[littlemanpoet]

Faramund wanted to wipe that smirk off Athanar's face, especially because the man seemed bent on showing off his superior education. What was he showing off for? Faramund was an eorling through and through, unlike this over-learned Gondorian imitator. Best to deal with it directly.

"Forgive me, my lord," Faramund said. "I have not dealt with men who so make Gondor their second home, as you surely must. I am not sure what you mean by these words, in trist, prow seeding, dock you meant, and the rest. You are more learned than I, no doubt. Do you mean the ledger?"

"Aye, the ledger," Athanar replied.

Faramund called over Stedford and told him to fetch the ledger. What Athanar hoped to garner from that Faramund could not guess. No matter. For Eorlingas a man's word was his bond. The ledger held only lists of items received and still owed.

What was this man up to? Did he have notions of overturning Faramund's judgment? A bile of hatred built suddenly inside. But Faramund held it in check. Let his old piece of coal have his say here this day. Once gone, Faramund would do as he pleased.