It was late and the commons was almost empty. All of the guests had been served and left for home or to bed. Raefindan sat at table with a bowl of stew in one hand and a dark brown ale in the other. He placed both before him and heaved a sigh. He stretched his back once, and then set to. In moments half of both drink and stew were gone.
Mellonin came by with her own bowl of stew and a cup of clear liquid. "You've gained yourself an appetite!" She sat in the chair next to him.
"How could I not? I haven't worked that hard ever in my life." Raefindan met her eyes as she ate her stew. He could tell she what thought. "Yes, I know I'm soft by the standards of this place, but from where I come-" he lapsed into silence, staring a moment into his cup before returning his gaze to her. "- I think - I'm considered about average."
She swallowed. "How can that be? Who does your labor if all of you are soft as you?"
Raefindan frowned, perplexed. "I don't know!" He dipped his wooden spoon into his bowl of stew again, and lifted it to his mouth. "We don't have wooden spoons at table." He put the spoon in his mouth.
"What then?"
"Metal," he said, chewing.
"Metal? What is that?"
"A kind of ore from the ground. Like iron for swords, only made into spoons."
Mellonin looked at him in disbelief. "Is metal so common where you come from then?"
"Yes, I suppose so."
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