Áforglaed
Áforglaed realised he just elbowed somebody pretty hard and the person swore, even though he could not make out the word. "I mean, watch out!" the same voice said, and Áforglaed turned around to face a thin dark-haired older man, apparently one of those who arrived with the caravan.
"Uh, sorry," he said. "Here," he turned around, handing the pail over to the stranger. "Sorry 'bout that. I'm done washing."
"He is just not looking where he's walking," Hilderinc chimed in from behind.
"No I'm not!" Áforglaed turned his head. "Or, I mean, yes, I am looking, of course, I just did not see you," he faced the stranger again.
Behind him, Hilderinc shrugged and started walking towards the hall.
"Name's Áforglaed by the way," the young soldier offered his arm, then realised the other man's hands were still dirty, so he promptly withdrew it. "Hey," he suddenly observed, "you look quite Dunnish."
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