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“More of a stranger?” Scyld echoed, raising an eyebrow. He had not expected a personal attack, but was not flustered by it. He thought for a moment, looking Crabannan over. “I believe we arrived here at nearly the same time. I have lived here and worked here the same as you – why should I not care? More than that, I have lived in Rohan the whole of my life, while you, I gather, have moved around. By my reckoning, that makes me less of a stranger here than you.” He smiled at Crabannan in an attempt to remove any sting from his words, but privately he thought: I have lived nearly my whole life within five miles of the ground where I stand; no stranger am I to this place. Only to its people – and they are the true strangers.
“But you admit yourself a stranger here, though you have lived here longer than any of these soldiers,” Scyld continued with a gesture around at the others, “so I might turn the question back to you: why do you care so much?”
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