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After Coldan’s outburst, it seemed that things were going to turn ugly. The old veteran looked none to pleased for being insulted – although Harrenon admitted that he had been the one who started with the insults since no one liked being called an orc-friend. He got up and headed towards Coldan, taking an aggressive stance, his intentions quite clear. Harrenon tried to consider their solutions. They could have run, but that would have made things much worse. Therian and Branor had already caused some trouble in the city. If things continued like that, the Players might soon be forced to leave Minas Tirith for being a nuisance. Therefore Harrenon did the only thing he could think of, and stepped in front of Coldan to face the old veteran, his mind all the while telling him that he was a fool and that if the veteran decided he did not want to resolve the conflict peacefully, he would be the one to suffer first.
“I think you should wait,” Harrenon began, secretly congratulating himself on his acting abilities, because he managed to appear confident and firm while in reality he was ready to bolt. “See, I apologise for my friend here, but you must admit that being called an orc-friend and an Easterling out of the blue is not a very pleasant experience. I am sure you would not be too pleased yourself, Sir, if someone did that to you.”
“Why the blazes would someone say that to me?” the veteran retorted. “I’m a Gondorian, just like you, by the looks of it, although judging from the company you keep, I wouldn’t have said it.”
Harrenon felt Coldan stir impatiently behind him and muttered a desperate “Wait” under his breath. He turned again to the old soldier.
“He has explained to you that he is not what you think he is,” he pointed out.
“Aye, but he also called me a brutish oaf!” the soldier replied. “I who have been fighting to defend this city before you were even born. I’m not the one to suffer insults quietly.”
“No, I can see that,” Harrenon admitted. “But what if he were to apologise to you? Would that be enough?”
Harrenon knew Coldan would be far from happy with him after that, but it was the only thing he could think of. The soldier did not answer and then another voice sounded in the smithy.
“I think we should deal with this fairly,” spoke the young man who had been until then surveying the scene without saying anything. “Since you were both wrong, I think you should both apologise to each other. Yes, you too, soldier.”
“But…but, master Bergil, Sir…” the veteran spluttered indignantly.
“I said you too,” Bergil repeated more firmly. “And you first, since you started it.”
Under Bergil’s watchful eyes, the old soldier muttered a reluctant “I’m sorry.” Bergil now turned to Coldan looking at him expectantly. Harrenon cast his now surly companion an apologetic look, trying to get him to understand that there had been no other choice.
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