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Old 03-22-2011, 04:36 PM   #101
Pitchwife
Wight of the Old Forest
 
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Join Date: Dec 2008
Location: Unattended on the railway station, in the litter at the dancehall
Posts: 3,145
Pitchwife is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Pitchwife is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Pitchwife is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Pitchwife is lost in the dark paths of Moria.
Coldan stood with his fist clenched, unwilling to apologize to anybody for defending his honour and his country's. He realized Harrenon and the young stranger had spared him a nasty brawl in which he would probably have got worsted, but it still irked his pride to give in and humble himself. It was the liveried man's eyes, fixed on him unwaveringly, that made him yield at last.

He drew a deep breath and turned to the veteran. "Let it not be said zat ve of Dorvinion hev no courtesy. I accept your apology for vat you said in error and beg your pardon for zose words I spoke in anger."

The whiteclad man nodded his approval. "Well said! You really must forgive my countryman's rudeness. We Men of Gondor, who long thought of ourselves as the last and only bulwark standing against the Shadow, should have learned by now that many other people fought their own fight against it no less valiantly, but some of our older folk still see an enemy in every man born east of Emyn Muil." He offered his hand to be shook. "I am Bergil son of Beregond, of Prince Faramir's White Company, and if I can do anything to make you feel more welcome in the City, I will do it gladly."

Coldan took his hand. "Zank you, sir, you're too kind. You hev done enough already." He felt Harrenon nudge him in the ribs none too gently and turned to his companion with a frown, but Harrenon was already addressing Bergil himself.

"Truly you have, sir, but if you're of the Steward's Guard, there's indeed a favour you could do us for which we would be very grateful, if you're willing. You see, my short-tempered friend Coldan here and I, Harrenon of Lossarnach, are members of The King's Players, and our troupe is putting up a play about the War of the Ring for the Cormare revels. Now it has come to our knowledge that some of our sources may have not been entirely reliable, and we don't want to offend any exalted persons that might be attending. If you could spare maybe half an hour, sir, and tell us what you know about the War and the lords and ladies involved in it?" Coldan had never heard such a long and eloquent speech off stage from him before.

Bergil smiled at them. "That I can, and will. I was too young then to fight myself, being but a boy of ten, but I was in the City during the Siege and afterwards, running errands for the healers up in the Houses when my Lord Faramir and my Lady Éowyn were treated there, and that perian, Meriadoc, who stood by my Lady in her fight against the Witch-King; I also got to know the other perian, Peregrin, quite well, and much that I did not witness myself I have since been told by my father, who heard it from the Steward. Let me just finish my dealings with the armourer first."

He collected the knife he had inspected earlier from its shelf. "This is an excellent hunting-knife, Master Angbor; it will make a lovely gift for my youngest nephew. What do you ask for it?"

"Castar and a tharni for you, sir", said the smith, obviously proud of his handiwork but also embarrassed by the scene his friend's rude behaviour had caused. Bergil handed him some coins, tucked the knife into his belt and turned back to the two actors.

"You are lucky - I am on leave, and they will not expect me at Uncle Iorlas's before nine bells. I know a decent tavern not far from here where we can sit down and discuss all you wish to know at leisure over some bread and cheese and a mug of ale or two - or a cup of wine for you, my good Dorwinian. Come!"
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