[Kransha]

Idruil sat forward, having trailed Arridan, Arriten, and Maen herself into the immodest dining room of the manor, in his comfortably arranged chair. As his eyes, half glazed over with a dose of weariness, sparkled more fervently as his face contorted into a sly and voracious grin. He hadn’t seen such a supply of food in a great while, and the site of the many brimming platters decked out on the table before him was quite a site to behold. He quickly slid his limp jaw back into place before it’s out of place position was notice and pulled back, arching his cricked neck and grinding a ovular index finger against his sore temple, which was, for an unknown reason, filled with a steady and painful drumbeat that thumped in rapid succession against the hollowed wall of his skull.

The glint in his gaze fading as the pain of a cranial ache became more apparent, Idruil looked up, his nostrils flaring several times as he imbibed the savory wafting plumes of fine odors emitted from the table’s luscious array. He looked quickly towards the master of the house and his son, then to Maen, who was speaking with them, and finally to Crystal Heart, who was descending to another seat with a most noble air, almost an aura surrounding her as it would a woman of power and the command of great respect. It was a look that Idruil, in the time he’d spent near her and Atharen, had not seen before and was thoroughly unfamiliar with. He gave her a pleasant nod of acknowledgment as she sat and turned back to his occupation of staring at his plate.

Soon enough, his gaze went up again, this time to see Atharen walking down the length of the stretching table, looking strangely cunning, like a fox who was about to do something particularly clever. It wasn’t, though, something particularly clever that Atharen did. Idruil couldn’t help but smile when he saw the concealed shock on the faces of his brethren, all save he and Roryn, when Atharen leaned down and gave Miss Heart a prompt but well-aimed kiss. Arriten and Arridan took it in stride, of course, since Atharen’s reason and acting was satisfying. Atharen sat and quickly engaged in an uncomfortable discourse with Arridan, which again elicited a scathing grin from Idruil. He’d never seen a ranger’s tricks, and he hadn’t expected theatrics and false pleasantries to fall into such a category. So far, Atharen’s façade was totally successful. Of course, Roryn and Idruil were the only ones who knew that the ranger’s affection towards Miss Heart was by no means a façade.

As the dinner continued, Idruil, becoming self-conscious at this point, noted the tense air surrounding Arriten and Arridan. They had shot more than enough suspicious glances at each other to pique Idruil’s curiosity and surely that of the others. Atharen continued with his calmed pleasantries in conversation, but the Lord and his son continued to seem as if they were hiding something, possibly a simple nervousness, but it seemed to be more. Already, most of those at the table had worked their way through most of the food, leaving only threadbare leftovers on each plate, all but a few. Finishing the last remnants of edible material on his plate, Idruil cautiously leaned over towards Maen.

“Lady Maen,” he said quietly, his conservative whispers overruled thankfully by Atharen, who raised his voice very slightly to conceal the words, “perhaps you and Lord Arriten should see to his lists in the cellar. Something is not right here.” Idruil had no intention of standing by while Maen was escorted, alone, into an unknown place without protection. He knew she could handle herself, but, as overly suspicious as the man of Minas Tirith was, he had already nurtured a great deal of suspicion for the two men sitting across from him. As he finished, he swiftly recoiled back to his own seat and turned to Arridan, heaping more flattery to augment what the ranger had said.

“Yes indeed, Arridan. What of your soldiering exploits? Are you as much the warrior as we were told or was all that we heard of you merely exaggeration?”