Elendor
Ranol Speaks with Hilvar
Ranol is seeking some time alone and runs into Hilvar.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Erebor
Description: A quiet figure sits on the top step of the Eastern Stairs, a small trail of pipesmoke twisting it's way up to the clouds but dispersing in the wind long before reaching them. It's early morning, the gates not yet open, and the sun is just rising above the lands to the east and bathing the countryside in a red and golden blanket. Ranol is escaping everything and seeking some time to think and work through the problems that are bothering him. He's enjoy a small bit of the Old Toby he has left over from the Shire as well, hard to get here in the mountain and expensive.
The postern door opens and the figure of dwarf appears. Hilvar has the prosperous dress of a merchant taking his ease at home, fine wool cloak of Barazin colors: red edged in black worn over black breeches and a red tunic. Good black boots can be seen from under the cloak. His face has the flush of a drinker and he is red bearded.
He stops and stares out over the valley and then notices the figure on the steps. He looks away and then back again with a perplexed expression on his face but he keeps his silence.
Ranol turns to see who has come out of the mountain, more out of habit than anything else. He's not back on duty yet, though he has been checking in occasionally just to be sure things are running smoothly with the rest of the clan-karls. His brows lift in surprise when he regonizes Hildis's father. The huskarl stands and turns to address the dwarf with a short bow, "Good morning, Master Hilvar."
"Master Hilvar does not quite start with surprise but is plainly discomfited because no name in greeting comes readily to him. He bows without replying stalling for time. "Ahhh, a good day to you!""
"I am Ranol, son of Ranor. We met the other day. I was paying a visit to Hildis." The huskarl supplies smoothly, his pipe held at his side, valuable leaf slowly burning away into the morning air.
"Of course, of course. Training or something," he says a hand to held to his head. The merchant sniffs, a knowledgeble air about him and nods, "A nice bit of leaf you are smoking there."
"Aye, training. That's right, sir." Ranol lifts the pipe, a carved wooden piece that has some intricate design worked into it. "It's Old Toby, from the Shire, far to the west where the halflings live. Would you care for a pinch?"
Hilvar eyes him, liking the sir. He takes soft pouch out of the inner pocket of his clock and slips out an old ivory pipe carved in the shape of a dragon's head. "Well, if it isn't an imposition on you. Been too long since I had a pipeful of that weed. Hard to come by these days what with the trouble on the Bree...Trouble" he repeats examining Ranol's face more closely but he says no more and waits for his pinch.
Ranol clenches his own pipe in his teeth for a moment, working with one hand as he is, and pulls a leather pouch from an inside cloak pocket. It's perhaps half full, enough for at least half a dozen smokes. He hands it to the trader, then pulls the pipe from his mouth after taking a long draw. "I got it when we were on the caravan."
The trader takes the pouch and gives himself a generous bowlful and hands it back. "thank you, what do you have on you for a light?" While he waits, Hilvar appraises the dwarf. "Still recovering from that troll? I remember you now."
Ranol again clenches the stem of his own pipe in his teeth and takes a moment to tuck away the rest of his precious pipeweed. Then he pulls a match from another pocket and offers it over. When the entire complicated affair is complete, (at least he seems to be practiced at using one hand for these things), the huskarl is again holding his own pipe so that he can speak. "Yes, a few more days I think before I can be back to most of my duties.. a few weeks at least before I'll be able to return to the training floor. Probably longer." He gestures to the broken arm with a displeased expression.
"Breaks take time, they do. Never had one. My son on the other hand. I thought he would have to leave the stonecarvers and come back to me - he broke two fingers that badly," he puffs and watches the smoke with a pleased narrowing of his eyes.
"Too bad about the training," he say turning back to him from his survey of the valley.
"The troll sundered my shield, which is unfortunate, but if I had not had the shield I surely would have lost my arm." Ranol grows quiet then, thinking about the battle for a moment. "It's kind of you to allow Hildis to continue traveling. I know it means a lot to her.."
Hilvar takes the pipe out of his mouth after another good puff and regards Ranol with a frown. "Kind of me?" He shakes his head. "I'm no progressive. She wants it and her mother wants it and I would have no peace about it. My son takes no interest in trading. I'd rather she'd stay home and made herself a good match. Time will tell. And a good suitor will, too."
"Well.. either way, it has made her happy." Ranol responds quietly, keeping the observation short and to the point. The bit about the suitor has him thinking hard, his brow creased faintly as he turns his gaze away to watch the sun rise slowly in the sky.
"And gives me peace. She's a good daughter, dutiful in everyway but this traveling bug of hers." He lapses into silence drawing slowly on his pipe.
Ranol nods, remaining silent still as he finds himself uncertain of what to say. He's never been interested in a woman before, not seriously, and now the prospect is absolutely terrifying. He's not even certain that it's more than a strong desire for friendship but the fact that he even wants to explore other ideas was unexpected.
These thoughts keep Ranol's mind cluttered until finally he looks back to Hilvar, his face wary but serious. "Sir.. I would like to ask your daughter to have dinner with me one night.. with your permission." Battling orcs is easier than this. Definitely easier.
The trader rounds on him, takes the pipe out of his mouth to say something, puts it back and frowns hard and then removes it again, all the while eyeing him speculatively. "Bundazanul, if I have the right of it? I would have to know something of your family before I said yea or nay. And," he looks him up and down, "in the Thrain's guard weren't you? I will think on it and you can come and ask me another day. We did not court by going to dinner in my day. We visited at home with a chaperone.
"I am Huskarl for Thane Braldor, sir." Ranol clarifies, knowing the position will hold more weight. As for knowledge of his family, that's a more dicey subject and the Bundazanul is hesitant to touch on that. "Ask me what you would know and I will tell you." Honesty will kill him one of these days.
A large puff of smoke drifts before Hilvar's face and he frowns, "Not easily put off are you? Well then. What would you bring my Hilvar beyond a good meal and a risk to her reputation? I have heard nothing about your family's weaalth or positon."
"Master Hilvar.. I am only asking if I may take her to a dinner.." Ranol says carefully. "I would like to get to know her better before those kinds of discussions take place." And perhaps when he has a place to live other than shacking up at his uncle's house. Not that Balur's house isn't impressive, but Ranol would like to be on his own completely.
"You would do better as a diplomat than a guard," he scowls. "Have you asked her if she is interested? For she has said nothing to me."
Ranol looks surprised at that, "I only wish to be truthful. I have not asked her because I thought it would be proper to speak with you first, since something like this may make our friendship.. more. If she says no, then I will know." He lifts his uninjured shoulder faintly, "Though I hope she wouldn't."
Hilvar looks in his pipe and bends to knock out on a stone, "Fine. I will ask her what she wants. And I will send you word of what is decided."
"I.. " Ranol hits a block and there's little he can do to argue it. He nods after a moment, then gives Hilvar a bow. "Yes, Master Hilvar. Thank you. I am staying at the home of Balur, my uncle." The huskarl doesn't hang around to explain -that-.. and instead heads inside.
The postern door opens and the figure of dwarf appears. Hilvar has the prosperous dress of a merchant taking his ease at home, fine wool cloak of Barazin colors: red edged in black worn over black breeches and a red tunic. Good black boots can be seen from under the cloak. His face has the flush of a drinker and he is red bearded.
He stops and stares out over the valley and then notices the figure on the steps. He looks away and then back again with a perplexed expression on his face but he keeps his silence.
Ranol turns to see who has come out of the mountain, more out of habit than anything else. He's not back on duty yet, though he has been checking in occasionally just to be sure things are running smoothly with the rest of the clan-karls. His brows lift in surprise when he regonizes Hildis's father. The huskarl stands and turns to address the dwarf with a short bow, "Good morning, Master Hilvar."
"Master Hilvar does not quite start with surprise but is plainly discomfited because no name in greeting comes readily to him. He bows without replying stalling for time. "Ahhh, a good day to you!""
"I am Ranol, son of Ranor. We met the other day. I was paying a visit to Hildis." The huskarl supplies smoothly, his pipe held at his side, valuable leaf slowly burning away into the morning air.
"Of course, of course. Training or something," he says a hand to held to his head. The merchant sniffs, a knowledgeble air about him and nods, "A nice bit of leaf you are smoking there."
"Aye, training. That's right, sir." Ranol lifts the pipe, a carved wooden piece that has some intricate design worked into it. "It's Old Toby, from the Shire, far to the west where the halflings live. Would you care for a pinch?"
Hilvar eyes him, liking the sir. He takes soft pouch out of the inner pocket of his clock and slips out an old ivory pipe carved in the shape of a dragon's head. "Well, if it isn't an imposition on you. Been too long since I had a pipeful of that weed. Hard to come by these days what with the trouble on the Bree...Trouble" he repeats examining Ranol's face more closely but he says no more and waits for his pinch.
Ranol clenches his own pipe in his teeth for a moment, working with one hand as he is, and pulls a leather pouch from an inside cloak pocket. It's perhaps half full, enough for at least half a dozen smokes. He hands it to the trader, then pulls the pipe from his mouth after taking a long draw. "I got it when we were on the caravan."
The trader takes the pouch and gives himself a generous bowlful and hands it back. "thank you, what do you have on you for a light?" While he waits, Hilvar appraises the dwarf. "Still recovering from that troll? I remember you now."
Ranol again clenches the stem of his own pipe in his teeth and takes a moment to tuck away the rest of his precious pipeweed. Then he pulls a match from another pocket and offers it over. When the entire complicated affair is complete, (at least he seems to be practiced at using one hand for these things), the huskarl is again holding his own pipe so that he can speak. "Yes, a few more days I think before I can be back to most of my duties.. a few weeks at least before I'll be able to return to the training floor. Probably longer." He gestures to the broken arm with a displeased expression.
"Breaks take time, they do. Never had one. My son on the other hand. I thought he would have to leave the stonecarvers and come back to me - he broke two fingers that badly," he puffs and watches the smoke with a pleased narrowing of his eyes.
"Too bad about the training," he say turning back to him from his survey of the valley.
"The troll sundered my shield, which is unfortunate, but if I had not had the shield I surely would have lost my arm." Ranol grows quiet then, thinking about the battle for a moment. "It's kind of you to allow Hildis to continue traveling. I know it means a lot to her.."
Hilvar takes the pipe out of his mouth after another good puff and regards Ranol with a frown. "Kind of me?" He shakes his head. "I'm no progressive. She wants it and her mother wants it and I would have no peace about it. My son takes no interest in trading. I'd rather she'd stay home and made herself a good match. Time will tell. And a good suitor will, too."
"Well.. either way, it has made her happy." Ranol responds quietly, keeping the observation short and to the point. The bit about the suitor has him thinking hard, his brow creased faintly as he turns his gaze away to watch the sun rise slowly in the sky.
"And gives me peace. She's a good daughter, dutiful in everyway but this traveling bug of hers." He lapses into silence drawing slowly on his pipe.
Ranol nods, remaining silent still as he finds himself uncertain of what to say. He's never been interested in a woman before, not seriously, and now the prospect is absolutely terrifying. He's not even certain that it's more than a strong desire for friendship but the fact that he even wants to explore other ideas was unexpected.
These thoughts keep Ranol's mind cluttered until finally he looks back to Hilvar, his face wary but serious. "Sir.. I would like to ask your daughter to have dinner with me one night.. with your permission." Battling orcs is easier than this. Definitely easier.
The trader rounds on him, takes the pipe out of his mouth to say something, puts it back and frowns hard and then removes it again, all the while eyeing him speculatively. "Bundazanul, if I have the right of it? I would have to know something of your family before I said yea or nay. And," he looks him up and down, "in the Thrain's guard weren't you? I will think on it and you can come and ask me another day. We did not court by going to dinner in my day. We visited at home with a chaperone.
"I am Huskarl for Thane Braldor, sir." Ranol clarifies, knowing the position will hold more weight. As for knowledge of his family, that's a more dicey subject and the Bundazanul is hesitant to touch on that. "Ask me what you would know and I will tell you." Honesty will kill him one of these days.
A large puff of smoke drifts before Hilvar's face and he frowns, "Not easily put off are you? Well then. What would you bring my Hilvar beyond a good meal and a risk to her reputation? I have heard nothing about your family's weaalth or positon."
"Master Hilvar.. I am only asking if I may take her to a dinner.." Ranol says carefully. "I would like to get to know her better before those kinds of discussions take place." And perhaps when he has a place to live other than shacking up at his uncle's house. Not that Balur's house isn't impressive, but Ranol would like to be on his own completely.
"You would do better as a diplomat than a guard," he scowls. "Have you asked her if she is interested? For she has said nothing to me."
Ranol looks surprised at that, "I only wish to be truthful. I have not asked her because I thought it would be proper to speak with you first, since something like this may make our friendship.. more. If she says no, then I will know." He lifts his uninjured shoulder faintly, "Though I hope she wouldn't."
Hilvar looks in his pipe and bends to knock out on a stone, "Fine. I will ask her what she wants. And I will send you word of what is decided."
"I.. " Ranol hits a block and there's little he can do to argue it. He nods after a moment, then gives Hilvar a bow. "Yes, Master Hilvar. Thank you. I am staying at the home of Balur, my uncle." The huskarl doesn't hang around to explain -that-.. and instead heads inside.
Players: Ranol, Hilvar
Located in: Erebor
