[Laiudanama]

Trystan thought fast, skimming through the options, but he was already so tired that it was almost like thinking through mud. The boy who stood in front of him looked at least a good few years younger than him, and was even slighter in build than him. His eyes flickered to the knife on the ground, which was almost within reach of his long legs, if he stretched to it – but then again, even if he couldn’t, he could overpower this boy, surely…

“Oh no you don’t!” The boy had seen Trystan’s eyes move towards the weapon and he kicked it quickly out of reach. Trys’ eyes narrowed, and he was about to rise, before pausing, frozen mid-motion and Leofric looked nervously to the side, nodding to another who was just out of Trystan’s line of vision, sprawled rather awkwardly on the floor as he was. Just my ruddy luck – not just one, but two of them… His heart sank, too, when he saw this next new stranger, and the thought of fighting flashed only briefly into his mind before disintegrating. Two stable-hands, nervous and probably less experienced in fighting than Trystan, he could have dealt with: but this young man was rather more sturdily built, broad across the shoulders and with obvious strength – besides which he was probably an inch or two taller than Trystan. He hesitated, trying to think of some plan of action, but before he could say anything, the younger lad spoke again.

“Here, you’re Gondorian, aren’t you?”

Panic seized Trystan. He tried to tell himself it was his accent, or his distinctive colouring, dark hair and grey eyes, but his mind was running away with itself. They’d heard about it, they must have done! He could imagine the line on the wanted poster: Gondorian criminal wanted for murder and robbery, young man likely on the run or in hiding… He tried to speak, but his tongue seemed to have dried up completely. The other man frowned, his arms folded across his chest, and seemed about to speak, but Trystan pulled himself together, determined to get the next word before they said anything else. “Why do you say that, friend?” he replied, trying to keep his tone light. Bother. Too jovial. He tried again. “I am indeed from Gondor – bit of travel never hurt anyone, right?”

“Not if they’re travelling purely for the sake of travel, no…” The older man spoke for the first time, slowly and deliberately, watching Trystan carefully with a look that made the boy feel like he was under examination – a feeling he usually associated with soldiers and guards. Now that really would be just his luck, seeing how the last few months had gone – to get miles from Dol Amroth and run straight into a soldier!

“And why else would I be travelling?” he replied, his voice carefully neutral. It wasn’t quite a challenge, but was coming close. He tried to relax slightly, but his sinking feeling was increasing as the man spoke, and what is more, he was looking more familiar by the second. “Your accent… You are from Dol Amroth?”

“Aye. And I take it from yours that it is from the same that you yourself hail from?”

Should have spoken less, Trys… He forced a smile. There was no point in denying it at this point. “I am – and a pleasant surprise it is indeed to run into a kinsman this far from home.” He was rewarded with a wary smile from the man, although his expression remained guarded, and although the younger lad had been watching the exchange with his head jerking from one to the other, as if watching a sport, he still looked utterly unconvinced. Shaking himself out of silence, he gestured towards the beautiful horse behind him, scowling down at Trystan. “Well, that may be all well and good, but may I ask what you’re doing in lying in a horse stall, miles from Dol Amroth, with your eye on one of the most beautiful horses this side Edoras? Like I say, you’d best be explaining yourself!”

Trystan was getting into his stride now, and instead of showing the panic inside, he allowed a smile to slip onto his face and looked away, nodding slightly. Looking back up at the boy, he grinned ruefully and put his hands up as if caught red handed. “Fair enough, sir, a good point – I can see how that might look. But I promise you: I have only just arrived, and was making my way around to the front of the Inn when I was distracted by this beautiful creature. I have a fondness for horses – although not, of course, in that way!” he added, grinning amiably. Just a little white lie: as one who had grown up all his life in a city, he didn’t know the slightest thing about horses, but it was about the closest he could get to the truth as possible, and at this stage, the truth was just about acceptable. But the charm worked, or at least melted the boy’s defences slightly, so Trystan decided to seal the blow by putting himself right out there, showing (oh, the irony) that he had nothing to hide. Wiping a hand quickly on his trousers, he held it out to both the boy and the older man, open to either. “My name is Trystan, sir, traveller and general no-good, I believe would fit the bill?”

His tone was relaxed, the last comment even slightly tongue in cheek, though his heart was beating furiously as the boy hesitated. After a second of silence, though, it was the boy who answered, smiling and grasping Trystan’s hand and pulling him to his feet, where he did indeed stand an inch or two taller than the boy. “And I’m Léofric, and this here is Farahil; I work as ostler here at Eorling Mead Hall – and anyone who likes horses is fine with me, I suppose. But…I don’t suppose this knife is yours, is it?” So the suspicion remained. Trystan didn’t even hesitate, allowing a puzzled expression to address his features as he tipped his head slightly to one side. “Why….why would I have a knife out in a stable?”

Léofric nodded slowly, digesting the reply and seeming to accept it. “Just thought I’d check, y’know. Although I can’t think why it is in here; must have been dropped by someone or other… Never mind, anyway, you looked like you could do with a good drink – you haven’t been travelling all night have you?” Léofric’s tone was now far friendlier, chatting to Trystan, but the thief doubted he was entirely taken in. And as he followed him out of the stables, he noted that the other man, Farahil, did not immediately follow. Instead, he could feel narrowed eyes watching him leave, as if he was familiar but couldn’t quite be placed, before Farahil too followed them.