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Scyrr stood, wordless, still at the same place when the rest of the Hall had raised their cups to the toast. He was completely taken aback by what had just happened. In the flash of a moment, everyone's interest in him suddenly ceased, nobody was watching him anymore. Even Athanar's men at the other table cheered merrily upon Eodwine's proposal.
"He may not be such a bad chap, after all, that Eodwine," Áforglaed evaluated, turning the empty cup in his hand. "Pretty funny, he is, I think. I thought he would be just some annoying old dotard."
"He's not even that old," Baldwic said.
"I know," Áforglaed replied. "But I mean - you know what I mean."
"No," said Baldwic. He cast a quick look over his shoulder. "But hey, look, I think we might want to take Scyrr back here. Or maybe to sleep, that might be safer. Look at him standing there."
"What?" said Áforglaed, distractedly, since he had been just getting his cup refilled, but Baldwic was already gone.
"Come, Scyrr," he approached the now gloomy-looking Rider, standing still on his unsteady feet near the entrance. "Let's go..."
Scyrr looked at him, frowning, but did not say anything. Baldwic took him by his shoulder and led him away.
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