[Folwren]

“I should be unwilling to cause you any sort of annoyance and make you stop your work,” Raban told Harreld. “Let me find the boy, and he and I will begin making space while you work, and instruct us where to put things. Will that suffice?”

“No, I do not mind helping you clear a space,” Harreld replied. “In fact, I would insist that I do it with you. Go and find the boy, and when you have returned, I will have decided where we shall put you and how to begin cleaning the place.”

Raban nodded and turned to go without another word. He walked with his slow, uneven gait across the courtyard to the stables again. Although Javan had not been there when he first searched the place, he knew that he was supposed to be working there. The temporary distraction of greeting the newcomer was likely taken care of and out of the way, and he should be back at his work.

As soon as he entered the dimly lit and musty smelling place, he heard the scrape of the pitchfork against the stall floor. He slowly paced down the aisle to where the wheelbarrow stood. At quick, even intervals, a thick shower of shavings, straw, and manure came shooting out of the stall door and into the barrow.

Raban stopped just outside the stall door and beside the wheelbarrow. He looked in quietly and waited until Javan turned about to pitch the next load out. The boy gave a start, and his aim fell short.

“You frightened me!” Javan said. It would not have been so bad were it just anybody standing there, but the disfigured face in the half light looked even more grotesque than when he first saw him. “What do you need?”

“You and I are going to begin our long tutelage together today,” Raban said.

“Today?” Javan repeated. “But, Léof is gone and I have to work in the stables.”

“How many more stalls have you left?”

Javan glanced up and down aisle, counted mentally the stalls he had already done, the ones that did not need to be cleaned, and then answered with some chagrin. “Just three, maybe.”

“They can wait for this afternoon. Now, come with me and we will go to the smithy and see what needs to be done there. We should finish preparing our space by noontime, and once we are done in there, you may finish here.”

Javan frowned a little. “Very well. Let me finish this stall, then.”

“No,” Raban said firmly. “Harreld is waiting for us.” He turned about and walked towards the door. “Come along, young man, come along.”

Javan rolled his eyes, propped the pitchfork against the half filled wheelbarrow, and followed the old man to Harreld’s smithy.