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The bells started ringing for the ninth hour, and Amdír noted with mild alarm that they had not yet returned--indeed they were a few blocks away yet. Harrenon and Therian also noted the time, but Branor did not seem to grasp its significance.
"Do you think we can march at a faster pace?" asked Amdír, though Therian had already jerked Branor to move more speedily.
"We've already got the bad news that the play will need rewriting," he continued. "Let's not aggravate Brinn further by being later than need be."
"Bad newsh?" said Branor. "Rewriting the script is good! All Hail Elessaragorn Stridesalot, Spy-King of Arnor! Aldarion's going to love me!"
"So much for sobering him up," said Harrenon, even though Amdír thought they'd actually made progress since they left the Rohirric Unicorn. Branor's speech was hardly slurred anymore, though his walking was not yet steady.
As it turned out, they were only six minutes late when they finally reached the waggons... but Brinn already stood waiting.
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