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When Náin awoke at his usual early hour, he found himself rather more disinclined than usual to get out of bed. His body responded sluggishly as he forced it through the motions of getting up, and he was chagrined to discover that he was not among the first to make it to the kitchen that morning.
After mumbling a grumpier than usual 'Good Morning' to Frodides and Kara, he brought his breakfast to the hall, and noted to himself that clearly late-night tempers and chiselling were not beneficial to one's body.
Thinking over the past night did little to improve his mood, since he recalled his late hour decision to apologize to Saeryn, Degas, and Eodwine. In the morning light was no less ashamed of himself than he had been under the moon the night before.
Swallowing the last of his breakfast, Náin shoved himself to his feet, and headed off to find Degas. He knew the young man was already awake, having head (together with half the Hall's population, it would seem) the strains of his song coming down to breakfast.
Steeling his iron Dwarven courage, Náin headed in the direction of the courtyard and his now-finished statue, only to find himself blocking the way of Saeryn and a young man of similar age as they were about to enter.
"Excuse us, Náin," said Saeryn, blushing ever so slightly- perhaps remembering the last occassion on which she had seen the Dwarf. "We were just going in to breakfast. Trystan, this is one of the guests of the Hall, Náin son of Narin of Erebor. Náin, this is Trystan, of Dol Amroth."
Náin nodded, a bit tongue-tied himself. "Err... excuse me," he said, not really wanting to apologise in front of a stranger. "I've got to rush away- need to meet someone."
"At this hour?" Saeryn looked surprised. Náin, though friendly with most, wasn't known to be closely associated with anyone. "It's still quite early. Who can you possibly want to see so soon?"
"Well... er... ah... that would be Degas," said Náin, stumbling over his words, realizing precisely how awkward this was getting.
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