by Shawn Daysleeper and AelKennyr Rhiano
At the start of this trek down the Blue Mountains, Fafnir could barely keep pace with Nasi, and at day's end, his legs were cramping and spasming, the unused muscles protesting the exercise. Now, however, here in Mithlond, on the evenly cobbled and wide, clean streets, he matched the pace set by the Master Brewer easily. He hears the striking of his boots against the stones, and it is a steady clip-clop, clip-clop, but he also hears the voices of elves and humans selling their wares. The city is open and wide, clean and well kept. The smells are those of life, but the seedier smells that come with life crowded toe-to-toe; the smell of decaying meat or dyeing fabrics or the offal of animals are nowhere to be found.
He breathes in, expanding his chest and leans over to the Elder. "So, Elder, this tavern, it will have beds for us all? Will they charge us to stable our horse? I am so unfamiliar with this, Noble Elder. Please, forgive my ignorance." His tone is warm, respectful, soothing as the visage of the ocean they are nearing as they come to an intersection. A main thoroughfare lies stretched before them.
Adelsteinn walks with Fafnir, looking around at the way post signs, marking the streets and also looking at the buildings around them to make sure they are going in the correct direction to the Inn. As Fafnir asks him about beds and stable, he mentally calculates how much coin they brought from the treasury.
"There is a stable behind the inn, and the charge for the care of our pony is included in the price of the lodging. There are two types of beds here: there are cots and there are much better beds with storage chests. I will have to see what we can afford. I hope this Olwe comes as he plans, or we may have to resort to... entertainment.... for the inn somehow to provide the keeper with some coin for his ale so that we can stay longer."
Fafnir stops in mid-stride as they come up to the corner, his eyes widening at the last part of Adelsteinn's remark. "Entertainment?" he asks. "What, what sort of entertainment?"
"Entertainment," he explains, "to bring in customers. Keepers make more money on the ale they sell than the price of lodging. I suppose old Bavor could pluck a harp for us, if needed, and we could pitch in with the stable-work. But this is not an immediate worry, provided this Olwe comes soon."
Fafnir looks over at the other dwarf, looks at the careworn lines about his eyes, the downturn of his mouth. Adelsteinn has led them to Mitholond, and in all the time on the road, he made sure they had food before he himself ate. They had a place to sleep and rolled out their bedrolls before he did. He was up earlier than most of them most mornings, and most nights was the last to go to bed. He had not even bothered to change his clothing or trim his beard. Fafnir felt a shame creep into his heart for the anger that he felt when they left the settlement.
Reaching out, he places a hand on the other's arm. "Well, should it come to that, " He says, " I can sing a goodly tune, if someone can play, and if Nasi should take off his shirt, I am sure the coppers and gold coins will rain down upon us." He smiles and then turns the corner with the Elder, adding, "Adelsteinn, you remind me much of my father, Smith keep his axe sharp, and I brought some of my father's clothing with me. You are of a size with him, and I, "He ducks his head in a shy gesture. "Well, I would be honored to share his clothing with you. I don't think anyone has looked after you as you have looked after all of us."
Adelsteinn blushes a little. "I thank you and accept your offer of a change of clothes. I admit I was so busy securing Gamilfun's official belongings, I forgot about my own. For most of the journey I have managed alone, but a change of clothes would be handy as that would mean Eilif can then mend the ones I am wearing, which she has offered to do. I have had nothing to wear in the meantime."
Fafnir's ears prick as Adelsteinn speaks. "Securing Gamilfun's official belongings?" Isn't that what Fafnir himself did? Were they both light of finger in the crumbled ruins of their homestead? He stumbles a little, his toe catching on a rock that is beginning to work loose from the paved road and reaches out a hand to steady himself, grabbing the ledge of a open market stall. Elif mending his clothes. That was the act of a wife. His amber eyes regard the Master Brewer a little more shrewdly. A young, strong and keen of wit wife would eliminate the need for a tall and lanky dwarf to act as aide. Fafnir feels a hard pit in his stomach, but then his eyes turn to the cart before him, filled with food of all sorts, colors, and shapes. With a sharp intake of breath, without thought, Fafnir stretches out his hand and grasps one of the yellow crooked neck vegetables, marveling at its size. He turns his eyes back to Adelsteinn, never seeing the elven merchant close by or the lady who is a customer.
