[littlemanpoet]

Faramund regarded the earnest young man.

"Who are you? You were in the council moments ago. What is your name?"

"I am Thornden, Lord Athanar's steward."

Ah. Now he remembered him. He had stood against the three of them with that woman, the lady of Scarburg. And this steward had thrown him out! He raised himself up as high as his stature allowed, raised his chin, and looked down his nose at this steward of Scarburg.

"I take arms to defend what is mine, as do those with me." Then he leaned into Thornden, eyed him squarely, and raised his pointing finger into the young man's face. "Look here, even the king's law has limits. No man can walk on to another's land and act as if it's his own. Not Athanar, not Eomer. Tell your eorl that for me!"

He held Thornden with his eyes a moment longer, then stalked away. He knew he was in the right on this one. No doubts at all. He was determined to protect what was his from all comers, no matter who they were are claimed to be.