Scarburg Meadhall

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc and Tyrdda's conversation was suddenly interrupted by Quin literally almost running into them from the kitchen.

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” he said. “I didn’t know you were out here. I mean, I didn’t know you both were out here talking. Did you know they’re dancing inside?”

Hilderinc turned towards the main door to the Hall. “Dancing?” he asked, surprised.

“You are saying the word as if you didn't know what it means,” Tyrdda said.

Hilderinc shook his head, for the second time lately a hint of a smile appearing on his face.

“I do, but I haven't danced much for... well, let's say, most of the places I have been staying in lately did not offer such kind of entertainment very often,” he said. “Like before I came to Athanar's service, I had served commander Wintearn at Wold, we were a company of thirty men – no women; and most of the time our home had been only a tent camp in the plains...”

He almost smiled again when he remembered at least one instance when the men had been dancing there: but it was the dance of the Riders, and on top of that, most of them had been drinking before; it was on a cold, winter night, not unlike today.

“Maybe we could go inside, then,” he said. “It is getting really cold out here, isn't it?” He turned to Tyrdda. “Shall we join the others?”

Hilderinc did not really mean it as an invitation to dance, but he did not think about how it might have sounded to Tyrdda – or Quin. He stood up, then looked at the young Rider.

“But what are you doing here, if they are dancing inside?” he nodded towards the Hall.