Elendor
Tea at the Home of Hilvar
Ranol pays a visit to Hildis in return, runs into problems when Odor escorts himself along.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Erebor
Description:
Greathall of Thorin Oakenshield (Barazin Thingstead)
Likely to be one of the most beautifully delved halls outside of Khazad-Dum, the Barazin clan's main hall has been designed by the most expert miners and artisans Erebor has. Azure arches leap from the corners of the hall, vaulting towards the ceiling at an ever lower angle until they meet, creating a star of blue crystal, which sheds light over the entire chamber. The floor shines in the light of the star as well as numerous crystal lamps hung around the walls. Reliefs are chiseled into nearly every surface here, depicting the very work it took to create such a masterpiece: dwarves, delving and bringing the art of stonework into these halls. Numerous small arches open along the walls, leading to personal quarters of clan members. A large, reddish arch to the stairs going up to the gate, and another just like it leads south into the mines.
This vast open hall of the Barazin is busy at all hours, for the masterworks of engineering have rendered there a crystal star that spreads is light both day and night. At this more sociable hour however, it is its busiest indeed. Barazin tradesman ply their wares, though these are the minority of the clan's considerable wealth, for iron and stone are purchased by the ton rather than the chunk. Clansmen meet by design and chance to talk and plan.
One such meeting is dawning today, as Odor moves off from a food cart with an iced bun, freshly baked that morning by beautiful women, or so the smoothly spoken salesman had claimed, held in his hand. Meander with no apparent purpose across the hall, he takes hearty bites of the sugary treat with murmurs of satisfaction.
Ranol really shouldn't be out, but it's been a few days and sitting around at home was becoming worse for his health. The huskarl is unarmed, but has his heavy blue cloak of Bundazanul color draped over his frame. Mostly hidden under his cloak and thick black beard his left arm is in a cast and sling, and the dwarven guard moves along slowly, almost gingerly through the crowded hall. His eyes are slowly skimming over the stalls and booths of traders, and he seems to be searching for someone.
Odor's not usually the most spatially aware of dwarves. It is perhaps his one failure as a warrior not having an excellent grasp of his surroundings. As such it is hardly surprising that engrossed in his food, he crosses behind a gaggle of younger beardlings shielding him from Ranol's line of sight and emerging beyond them behind the huskarl, walks straight into him several hundred pounds of dwarf cushioned only by the fact that he didn't have too much momentum worked up. "Ooof!" he complains, bun falling to the floor as the red-bearded Barazin's eyes widen in horror. "You steaming great pillock!" he barks loudly before he even realizes who it is.
Ranol is slammed into from behind, and stumbles with a hiss of pain, dropping to one knee as he loses his balance. He kneels motionless for a moment, his forehead creased. Slowly he stands again with his right hand pressed against his chest, turning to look and see who is insulting him even though they were the ones not looking where they were going. "Odor.. "
The bun is reclaimed with great haste, and turned over for examination as Odor rises. It is only when somebody uses his name that the dwarf cuts short the inspection of the sticky iced glazing and looks up with angry eyes. They promptly soften somewhat as he spies the face of a friend. "Oh, its you Ranol..." a hand makes an effort to brush the sticky bun clean but its not going to work sticky being as sticky does. This moment seems to be enough for Odor's mind to tick over the information his eyes can see, and his bushy 'brows rise up. "What happened to you?"
"Troll.. out on the path by the Mazarbul Gate." The huskarl explains, then gestures vaguely over his arm and chest, "Banged me up pretty well." Ranol studies Odor for a moment, then asks in an almost -too- casual tone of voice, "Odor, do you know where Hildis lives? She's the daughter of Hilvar."
"What?! Troll?!" Odor demands in a shock, looking at once both furious and utterly crestfallen "Why didn't anybody tell me...?" he asks in a mournful tone. He looks Ranol over then, a smirk curling to his lips. "Keeping all the fun to yourself, Ranol. Its very bad taste! Haha!" the short laugh booming out at full-lunged volume as Odor's head tips back and his bearded chin wags.
"Hilvar's daughter?" he asks, when this is finished. "What do you want to see her for?"
Ranol grins, shaking his head. "Aye, bad luck that you weren't around when it attacked. Don't worry, though, I didn't finish it off." He says with a smirk, "So perhaps you can hunt it down yet." The huskarl hesitates when Odor asks why, rubbing the back of his neck. "She was hurt by the troll as well, and I thought I might check in... See how she is doing. You know where she stays?"
"Aye, track it down I will!" Odor grins widely, for such pursuits are where his heart lies. If there is a subtext to Ranol's request Odor seems to have missed it and he inquires earnestly along the lines of the given reason. "What was she doing out by the Mazarbul Gate?" pausing a moment before furthering the line of question. "Or fighting trolls for that matter. Her father must be furious!"
"I really can't say about her father... So.. do you know? Where her home is?" The huskarl shifts with a trace of impatience, glancing around. After a moment he adds in explanation, "We were out for a walk, her, Thari, and I. The troll ambushed us."
The mention of being out for a walk brings a rise to one of Odor's brows, though his none too subtle peering is quickly ended when he mentions Thari being present also. "Ah..." he remarks, considering for a moment. Which, being Odor, is a long moment. "Don't imagine you're flavour of the month 'round there then." he murmurs, an absentminded hand lifting the bun to his mouth and taking a large bite, as he continues to quite literally chew over his thoughts, clarifying with a raise of the treat. "Thirty second rule." At even greater lengths, the Barazin nods. "Aye, she's none too far. Third tunnel past the butcher, second cavern...don't fancy your chances of getting inside alone though, being the reason she was out of her father's care."
"Wait.. what? Why wouldn't I be welcome?" Ranol asks, frowning as he glances around. "I don't know where the butcher is, would you mind showing me?" The huskarl is reaching up to rub his shoulder, still pained from the fall.
Ranol throws his short broadsword up into the air, watches it flip gracefully, then juts his hip out as the sword descends and it lands neatly into his scabbard.
"Well, if I were Hilvor..." Odor mumbles, continuing this train of thought before it departs the station for parts unknown. "...I’d consider that if she were at home, she'd not be in the path of marauding trolls." This is as close to insightful as Odor is known to get, and is itself unusual. "That, and Hilvar’s pretty well off. Be looking to marry her to a nice dwarf in the mining business I ought to think, family rates and all." he chuckles then, reaching a non-sticky hand to stroke his beard. "Aye, be best if I do that I think. Might just get you in the front door at least." he gestures with his bun in the direction that they might travel.
"Odor, I said nothing of ... any of that!" The huskarl hisses, shooting a glare at the Barazin, "I just wish to see how she is doing. We are friends, the three of us." Ranol is too distracted by Odor's connotations of his intentions to notice the mining jibe. He begins moving, his pace slow and careful. He says nothing more as he walks with Odor to the home of Hilvor.
"Eh?" Odor replies, not quite grasping this connection. Though it is made as they walk. "Oh! I didn't say you did...just that Hilvor might see bachelors taking his daughter for walks that way. Let me see to him though, he's got a mouth like an orc with toothache." the big bearded dwarf laughing out loud as they pass along the route he'd spoken of. It’s not so very long, just as he'd said, before they come to the home and a large hand reaches out, thudding forcefully against the heavy door.
Hildis answers the door a key perhaps to seeing the reduced circumstances that her family has fallen on: domestic help has been reduced. She stands in the threshold of a magnificent room carved friezes run the border between polished red walls and high ceilings. Great lanterns hang from elaborate circles on the ceiling, examples of the chandlers’ art of old, are dry and without light. Light comes from smaller humbler sconces set lower on the walls and they illuminate a few pieces of furniture, very clean but far from new. Three large doorways framed and carved lead to other rooms.
Surprise widens her green eyes as she looks from Odor to Ranol and back again. Disbelief and pleasure mix equally but she says a bit sharply, "What are *you* doing out of bed, Ranol?"
From the closest door a voice booms, "If that is Throjor tell him we will discuss the problem tomorrow!" The voice is imperious and edged with self-importance.
"Yes, father, I will," she answers with practiced patience.
She gives a quick smile to Odor, "Oh, hello Odor. How are you doing? You brought him here?" She looks at them both again, nearly stamps her foot to stop an onslaught of the "run-away-from-Ranol-shuffle" and manages a bow.
"Come in," she says at last with a shake of her head.
Ranol had no idea that Hildis's family was so well off, and he can't help but feel a mixture of awe and embarrassment. The latter being because he was worried that she might be intimidated by Thari's home. And then there's another small part of him that feels sudden dismay as he realizes that Odor has the right of things. Hildis is well out of his league.
He glances over at Odor, then back to Hildis and smiles. "I'm much better today. I thought I might come see how you're doing, return the favor. Odor was kind enough to show me to your home." He gives her a short bow, the movement still paining healing ribs, and steps inside.
"Hello Hilvor, its Odor!" the red-headed dwarf roars back in an even more boomy voice, going for volume rather than any sort of descriptive tone. "Kodor says hello!" mentioning his own father's name, one good to know if you like metal and stone, in the same lungful of breath. He quiets to a more sociable tone for short distances, though the dwarf remains quite loud to ordinary standards. "Doing fine thanks..." he answers, hands now devoid of buns which he'd finished along the way. Though a little white mark where sticky glazing has been wiped away can be found on the lower right edge of his tunic. "And you? What were you doing, eh? Fighting trolls..." his tone is not quite scolding, though his words are. The fact that he's grinning from ear to ear might go some way to explaining the why of it as he follows Ranol indoors.
"Please sit both of you," and she indicates the small group of chairs and padded bench before the small fire in the large, stone fireplace. She quickly walks to the doorway, "Father...." looks in with surprise then addresses them both, "Gone," she says baffled and somewhat relieved.
She walks back to them, "Ale for you both but I will have to scare up someone from the kitchen to bring it to us." She then faces Odor, "Yes, fighting trolls, you. Good practice for when I go out trading for my father's concern," she answers with firm, quiet good humor. "Were it not for Ranol though who held it off till the Thane's guards arrived, I would not be here to tell you about it or trade. He took the brunt of it."
She turns to Ranol and says in a soft baritone," I am glad that you are better." She opens her mouth to say more but stops.
Ranol moves to where the chairs are, glad to take a seat. Normally the huskarl is more formal and polite, but his arm is throbbing after Odor knocked him down. He can't help but gaze around at the decorative carvings and furnishings of the room. The conversation pulls his attention back, "Not well enough to work, yet... but soon I'm hoping. Odor is jealous that we did not invite him on our troll-hunt." He smirks.
Some might decline out of a desire not to impose. Especially given that someone from the kitchen must be scared up. But Odor is as Odor does, and when beer is in the offing, no trouble can be said to be too much trouble. He makes his way across to a chair, sizing up one that looks nice and comfy, and plunking himself down upon its cushions. "Aye. Very jealous...but I’ll have the better of both of you when I track the bugger down and use his hide for a cloak, his skill for a tankard." he looks then to Ranol. "You didn't chip it too badly did you?" it would seem that Odor does not consider this to be bravado in the least.
You paged Ranol with 'Oh, I like how this is developing. I had no idea the family would end up as semi-poor aristocrats of a sort but it fits with Barazin history.’
Real fondness for Odor warms Hildis's smile for him. "Odor needs ale and Ranol will give an account of just how many pieces of the troll were removed and remain for you to reduce into smaller pieces when you can, Odor," she stands before them both. The green stones she favors in her beard set off the Barazin red of her dress, skirt and bodice worked in black thread.
"I will be back in no time."
Good to her word, they barely have time to launch into the fine details of the troll encounter before she is back with another dwarf, an older woman with gray in her beard, carrying a tray laden with a pitcher of ale, goblets, bread and cheese. "Thank you Svanhild," she says as the woman lays the tray down.
"Good sirs," she gestures in invitation, 'help yourselves."
"No, not -too- badly. There was another warrior on the path, didn't get a chance to see if I knew him. He mashed its knee pretty well and I got some cuts in with my blade... but, the troll was still well enough when it fled the warders that were coming to meet it." Ranol is beginning to relax, glad that her father has disappeared. "Thari got roughed up pretty bad as well, but she'll be okay. The troll -did- sunder my shield. I'm disappointed in that, it was my grandfather's and I don't think I'll be able to repair it." He scowls, but it vanishes quickly when Hildis returns with food and drink. A nod of appreciation is given to both women but Ranol refrains from taking anything of the tray yet.
"Ah, this is good news!" Odor roars happily, his arms rising with fists closed in a gesture of exuberant triumph at the telling that the skull was, when last the troll was seen, undamaged. The tale of the shield brings a deep frown to his face however, and the fists uncurl though the arms remain raised. "This news is not so good...I like it not!" arms slowly dropping and shaking his head sadly. It is then that Hildis returns and the large dwarf reaches eagerly for a nice big frothy beer. "Tell me some other news..." he bids of them both.
"Go ahead, both of you!" she sits on a stool and slides it to the table and pours the ale into the goblets. "Come on! And did you mention toes in your account, Ranol?" She grins at Odor, his gruffness and loud voice are old and familiar to her. Her smile is shyer to Ranol and her eyes slide away from his only to return.
There is a great performance of bringing the mug of beer, held by both hands up to gesture in thanks to his host, before Odor sets it against his lips and drinks like...well, a dwarf. There is much glugging a little foam builds up around his beard before he's done and the mug lowered, the excess wiped away so as not to be too unsightly. "Aye lass!" another boisterous roar concurs with Ranol's suggestion, newly freed hands clapping before reaching to the platter again and claiming a large hunk of cheese. "Tell me a story and lets see how proud Ranol can be of his war wounds." the dwarf grinning across to the huskarl.
"You tell fine stories," she admonishes Ranol.
"I...well, I, it is my first battle story, you know?" shaking her head at the realization. "Ranol and the other dwarf whose name we don't know had charged the troll. Thari had too. That woman knows no boundaries. Brave as her ancestors. Well, the Huskarl had given it a good blow and received one, too. When I came to my senses, well, I had got so mad at him hurting them both, I jumped in and smashed his foot with Dragon Tooth. And broke his toe! He looked at me with those red eyes of his and I thought, 'So much for trading!' and he knocked me a good one on the shoulder with his axe. She moves her right shoulder gingerly.
"My news is that father did not finishing the braining that the troll had started. We are planning a trip, I think, to the east. What news from you, Odor?"
"Dragon Tooth?" Ranol asks softly, looks over at Hildis with quiet humor in his eyes. He's enjoying his mug at a slower pace, a new reserved manner to his drinking since he heard what Siv had been saying from Eirdis. Drinking problem indeed! Her news has the Bundazanul lifting his thick black brows, "Really? That's good news! It's just what you wanted, right Hildis?"
"Bugger all, lass" Odor replies forlornly, allowing the hunk of cheese to be the ointment for this hurt, as he takes a large bite and chews it thoughtfully. "East? To the Iron Hills?" he asks, pondering this thought not for long, since Ranol seems to have more to say on it. A hand rises to stroke his beard idly. "Well, as great Mahal is believed to have said." he grins then. "Love thy neighbor as thyself...unless he's an Easterling. In which case, kill the bastard!"
That raises a laugh from her, she tilts her head back, green jewels flashing in her beard, "Ah Odor, where *do* you get these sayings from?"
She looks at them both and then quickly glances at the doorway where her father had been, "Yes. I thought for a while it would take nothing short of Mahal's intervention. I cannot wait to be going and we will need a few Barazin with us," she nods meaningfully at Odor.
"It might be quite large. Which...is that dangerous Ranol if there are say, ten or more of us?"
Ranol is grinning as well, taking another longer drink of his ale. "A larger group will be safer, and the roads to the Iron Hills are well-traveled." He casts a glance to Odor, then looks back to Hildis, almost curious in nature. Maybe there are things going on that he doesn't know about.
"Do you know how soon you are leaving?" He asks next.
Glugging down the remainder of his beer, Odor peers within, dissatisfied that it is over and grins broadly back to Hildis. "From the mouth of Mahal, to the hand of Odor." he jibes with her. Aye, I’ll gladly guard your father's wares. If only to keep you..." he gestures with an empty mug. "Out of trouble. Perhaps we'll on to Dale?" this is asked on a hopeful note, a smile curling to the lips. "Drinking Dalemen under the table usually pays for extra provisions..."
A bit more demurely than Odor, Hildis wipes some froth from her moustache and fixes him with a smile, "Odor has always been on the lookout for us. Took care of my brother through a few scrapes so now he will keep *me* out of some. I just hope you don't find that troll to chip into smaller pieces on our trip and meet as many Dalesmen to drink under the table as you can. There may be some of your clan coming Ranol." she says this last with hope. "Thari may come."
"Thari may come but I don't know when we depart."
"Really? Thari? She didn't mention anything about it to me." Ranol seems surprised. "Though, I suppose she might want to go, in hopes of seeing Frarin." He adds with a smile. "It sounds like it will be enjoyable, and I wish you good fortune." His tone is very sincere.
"If you do encounter the troll, Odor, be sure to give it my proper sentiments on what it did to my shield. I wish I had caught the beast's name. Bah."
Odor may not be too quick, but he's subtle enough not to nervously laugh when he's accused of getting people 'out' of scraps. He just smiles and nods, eating his cheese. "Oh I’ll do more than that..." Odor lets out a loud boast. "When I find the thing, I’ll not only have its name, I’ll have it embroidered into the hide and carved in the skull!"
Her intentions are kindly with Odor and she laughs at his threat about the troll. "You just be careful, too."
"Perhaps more of your clan will travel, Ranol," hope burns in her glance. "As you said the larger the party, the safer. I had thought that small meant furtive and quick. And would she see Frarin? I mean, I am confused. I did not know it was common knowledge that they were to marry."
Ranol grins, nodding encouragement to Odor. The huskarl may not be quite as energetic as usual, but that can be attributed to his injured state, surely? He reaches to set his half-empty mug down and picks up a piece of bread to snack on, listening quietly.
When Hildis inquires of Bundazanul he lifts his right shoulder in a half-shrug. "I don't know, perhaps. I am not a trader and I do not follow their ways, I must admit." He presses his lips together when she speaks of his cousin and marriage. "No, it is not. Nothing is set yet, they are still waiting on her father's approval of the courtship."
Finding no beer forthcoming, and with the conversation turning to matters of courtship, love and marriage, Odor finishes the hunk of cheese and rubs his hands. Slapping his thighs, the large dwarf heaves himself out of his chair and looks to the doorway. "I must be off. Things to do, I only meant to bring Ranol here...and get him through the door." he remarks to the other male. "Come and see me some time soon, eh Hildis?"
"When mother bakes your favorite pudding, I will bring you some," Hildis says rising to escort him to the door. "Thank you for escorting him though he shouldn't be here," shoots him a frown.
Ranol pushes to stand, only wincing a trace in pain. He gives Odor a small bow. "Thank you, cousin. I hope you find the troll, though if you are not quick I may track him down myself." He says with a grin, and remains standing to watch Odor leave.
"A pleasure cousin...and that’s a promise I won't forget!" he laughs loudly as he's led to the door. "And if you heal quick enough cousin, I’ll let you come with me...but don't take too long. I don't want it getting away!" with another bellowing laugh, the Barazin is gone, though his voice carries back even as he walks back toward the great hall of the clan. "Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war!"
The Barazin daughter watches Odor out the door, fondness in the shake of her head as she closes it after him. She turns to look at Ranol, her eyes narrow as she seems to assess his health and mood.
"I did not mean to speak out of turn about Thari. I seem to making a habit of that," she says crossing back to her stool.
Ranol is sipping the ale again, having sat down once more to ease the weight of the sling from his neck. He shakes his head, smiling lightly, "You worry too much of it...” He says in a teasing tone, "The rumors being spread are far worse, so I do not think you can cause too much trouble." The huskarl lets out a slow sigh. "The situation is that her father hasn't given his blessing, and Thari and Frarin began the courtship before Frarin spoke with Balur, while we were on the trip. I have done what I can to speak of Frarin's honest intentions, but Balur hasn't yielded yet."
There's a knock on the door.
Outside, Siv shifts from foot to foot, happily whistling a tune to herself as she waits for the door to open.
A smile spreads under her beard, relief at his making light of what she had said and a quickening of interest as they seem to gain more confidence with one another. "Ah," she says when Balur is mentioned. "That is it."
Hildis looks up with surprise at the knock, "Another visitor. Except for ...well, I wonder who it could be." She goes to open and it is only her natural courtesy that keeps her mouth from opening in surprise at seeing the Zinbar trader. "Siv! Come in, please."
Ranol is relaxing again, smiling more easily now that they're alone. Alas, the peace lasts but moments before there's a new knocking at the door. He lifts his gaze to the ceiling, wondering if maybe this was all a bad idea. Then he hears Hildis's greeting and his blue eyes snap over to the doorway. Siv?! The huskarl smiles no longer, and reaches to set the mug down, standing.
"Oh good, Hildis!" Siv gushes. "I was hoping to see you, in fact. I've had a little discussion over the prices of your dyes and...." Siv stop, eyes widening in surprise as she steps into the room. "Oh...uh...Ranol...."
Standing between the two of them Hildis swivels, hands placed over her beard as she looks at Siv then Ranol. Bowing quickly she gestures her in, "Please. Do," she casts one anguished glance at Ranol when she sees his tension, "come in. I am so glad to hear that you have been considering our dyes."
"You don't have to leave," Siv says sharply. "I'm not contagious, you know. You won't catch sharp lying tongue disease from me. Nor will I start spreading nasty rumors about you." Her tone is heavy with sarcasm. "But, oh, I forget. You can't talk to me."
A thin lipped frown slips onto Hildis's face at Siv's tone. She looks long at her, perhaps there is some grudging admiration for just how frank the Zinbar trader is but she did not expect a confrontation in her house. Involuntarily she looks towards her father's study.
"Do you wish to talk to her Ranol?" she asks quietly.
Ranol draws in a slow breath, trying to keep calm as Siv lashes into him. He continues gazing at her in silence, his brow faintly narrowed with unspoken feelings. When Hildis speaks up he turns his head to look at her, his face softening. "I do not wish to bring discord into your home, and I have nothing .. " He hesitates, glancing at the Zinbar again, "I don't want to disrupt any dealings you may have."
"It's all right, Ranol," Siv replies, tone softening at that. "I've come to buy Hildis's dyes, not wreck her home with petty misunderstandings. I'll finish business here quickly and you can stay and continue your visit without having to talk to me."
Ranol looks back at Siv, his gaze hardening again, "Petty. Yes... perhaps it is but who brought it to this, Siv?" He demands in a low voice. He continues in exasperation, some of his frustration with the situation slipping out. "All you had to do was apologize but-." He catches himself as he realizes he's losing his self-control. When he looks back to Hildis he seems indecisive, clearly not wanting to leave but fearing creating drama. "Your trade is important.."
"Your peace of mind is important," Hildis retorts.
She holds up a conciliatory hand. "It is perhaps out of place but if there is no shouting," she raises a questioning eyebrow at Siv, "then perhaps it would be meet for you to talk. I am not adverse to it. And I want your trade, Siv as I want the comfort of my guests."
She glances silently at them both, her baritone voice quiet and firm, "You are welcome to stay, both of you or go as you see fit."
"I DON"T have anything to apologize for!!" Siv snaps, her hands balling into fists and her face going red. "I didn't say ANYTHING about Thari--get it?" She moves closer and closer to Ranol as she speaks. "NOTHING at all. Not one word about Thari......she seems to think that I did. I would like to know WHAT I said...! That she is in love with Frarin? That they fight a lot? That she should protect Frarin's honor by not having him go out late at night drinking? WHAT.......WHAT, Ranol, did I say about her that was so horrid as for her to march into the main hall and hit me? WHAT?"
Ranol walks over, his movements slow and measured. It's partially to help him keep his temper and partially because he's still very hurt from the fight with the troll. He keeps his voice soft, "First. She didn't hit you, she slapped you. Second, Thari is saying that you spread all the rumors about her and Frarin." He says, then adds, "And you told Thari that I have a -drinking- problem? Why would you say that?!" The last is an exasperated whisper.
Siv's raised voiced makes her glance at her father's study again. But only silence issues from there. She does not intervene only nods once as if in approbation at Ranol's calm in the face of Siv's storm.
Siv nearly spits with anger. "I did NOT spread any rumors about Thari and Frarin. In fact, I _TOLD_ Thari that I had heard vague rumors, and she thanked me for letting her know about it. And what I said to Thari about you was that your father has a drinking problem and I was worried about you being out drinking." She sneers. "And that it was a woman's job to watch out for her man's reputation. Is there something wrong with that?"
"Something wrong?!" Ranol almost loses his temper.. almost. He takes a moment to take a slow breath, the cracked ribs doing much to help him keep his head. When he finally speaks it's in a cold but measured voice. "Siv, that's none of your business. I do not have a drinking problem, my father does not have a drinking problem, and my reputation is none of -your- concern."
Hildis has elected to remain in the background limiting herself to occasional glances at her father's study. She watches with growing admiration on her face as Ranol keeps his temper despite Siv's tone. Once her eyebrows lift at the mention of a drinking problem her eye's sliding down and once again to her father's domain.
"I was talking to Thari at the time about husbands and reputation and business. And when I was considering marriage to you, then your reputation and drinking problem or potential for one _were_ my business. At the time." She snorts, turning on her heels and heading for the door. "We'll talk another time, Hildis."
Dawning comprehension widens Hildis's eyes, raises her eyebrows, her eyes dart from one to the other and she begins to redden deeply. She manages a nod to her, "We will talk. But now is not the time as you say. Please come again," she adds and then casts an angry look at Ranol.
"You were talking to Thari about those things in a -public- place, Siv. Others heard you and that's how rumors are spread! Maybe this business with Thari is a misunderstanding, but it was you that was heard talking and you can't pretend that didn't-" The huskarl blinks as something Siv said catches up to him. "I do -not- have a drinking problem!" He demands again, his voice getting harder but he continues to keep the volume low.
"Perhaps you two had better talk in private," Hildis looks at the room as if considering offering it to them. "But not here," she decides.
"I had thought...I had begun to trust you Ranol," she looks at him and for an instant her eyes hold disappointment and loss and then she gestures to the door.
Ranol can see that he isn't accomplishing much and is deeply regretting speaking with Siv at all. When Hildis speaks up he looks to her again, his gaze troubled.. but it's when she speaks of trust and looks so completely disappointed that the huskarl starts to panic. What's happening?? He looks over at Siv, then back to Hildis. "What do you mean? These things.. They're not true." His blue eyes shoot back to Siv, "I do not have problems drinking. You know that, Siv. I got drunk -one- night and .. it was with Odor. You can ask him!" The last is said as he looks back to Hildis, wondering why he's suddenly having his own credibility questioned.
"No need to talk in private, Hildis," Siv nods to her. "Though I apologize for bringing this into your quarters." She turns back to Ranol. "We had been talking about a marriage arrangement, Ranol, and seeing you drunk that night brought up fears I have of having a husband I can't rely on. Don't think your family is the only one with drinking problems.... And even if you don't have a problem, if you show up night after night after hours like that and get horribly drunk, well, folks will think you have a problem, whether or not it's true. Now, as you say, you may not have a problem and your father may not have a problem, but seeing you there brought it to mind for me. And Thari and I had a discussion about the role of women in protecting their man's reputation in a marriage. I think she even agreed with me."
Hildis also takes a deep breath, "You were discussing marriage with Siv, Ranol?"
Ranol listens and the troubled expression grows deeper. The dwarf slowly shakes his heads at Siv's words, feeling as it he's fighting a battle.. a battle that he's losing.
"Just.. stop. Please." His voice softens, his anger dissipating. "Siv, you're mistaken. You spoke of marriage and I was being polite.. maybe that was my mistake, but I don't think it ever would have worked out. I am interested in love and you're interested in.. other things. I'm sorry.. but this has to end. Stop telling people that we were going to arrange a marriage. Please."
"Fine, Ranol. Think of it how you'd like. I won't say anything else. But you have to admit that you _were_ interested there for a while," Siv snorts loudly. "But...you just go on fooling yourself." She shrugs. "As for the rest, I _will_ see my name cleared of this nonsense."
Hildis had held her breath during the last words between the two. She almost yawns from need for air and then she looks at Siv with a puzzled expression, "How is he fooling himself?"
"Siv, I considered the possibility. Yes. But I never took it beyond the first dinner, which was your idea. I even went to talk with Lord Ovor about how I didn't want to mislead you. If you don't believe me, ask him yourself." Ranol's words are soft and gentle, as if he's trying not to hurt her feelings with words that can do just that, if taken poorly.
"I have talked to him," Siv says stiffly. "He agreed we aren't right for each other. Which is why I let it be. But now this whole thing about my saying things about Thari...it's.. I can't stand by and let people say such things about me. The nerve!"
The Barazin daughter briefly considers Ranol, her face expressionless to all but the finest of readers and then looks at Siv. "Are you sure you are resolved to this, Siv? It would seem that Ranol is...resolved. I do not think he wishes you badly," she is silent a long moment.
"Could the matter not be settled directly with Thari when she is better? Gossip of all natures is an ill thing."
Ranol keeps his voice soft, but his words are firm and emphatic, "Siv.. That's not true. You haven't let it be. You brought it up in front of Lord Gimli. You brought it up just now. There was -no- marriage arrangement, I never even spoke with your father. Please.. stop saying that there was." He dares to glance at Hildis now, making a quiet apology, "I'm sorry that you're forced to listen to this."
Siv harrumphs. "There was a discussion. You can't deny that," she tells Ranol. And then to Hildis, "Thari won't even tell me what it is I allegedly said about her. She demands an apology but won't believe me when I say I would swear I've spread no lies about her."
Again Hildis speaks, her voice restrained, her expression carefully neutral. "There can be no doubt there were talks." She shoots Ranol a look. "And interest. But that is past according to Ranol."
It troubles me to hear that you are upset, Thari is upset. I wonder if I could speak to Thari about this?"
"I don't want to talk about this anymore, Siv. I'm not supposed to be speaking with you at all right now." Ranol sounds weary, rubbing the back of his neck again. This was supposed to be a peaceful visit to chat with Hildis and he hasn't gotten much chance for that today. He looks back to the Barazin, "I'm sorry. I really am. I'm going to go.. I didn't mean to get into this at all, least of all here.." The huskarl turns for the door now.
"Fine, Ranol," Siv retorts. "You never talked to me. We never argued. Stupid edict anyhow. This whole thing is stupid," she sighs. "Just _stupid._" Now _she_ turns, pushing past Ranol to try to get to the door first.
Ranol is just reaching for the door handle when Siv forces past him, her elbow catching him in the ribs. He hisses sharply as pain stabs through his side, stumbling a step and pressing his hand against the wall for support. He takes several slow breaths, his eyes closed as he finds that calm center in himself, trying to let his anger dissipate again.
"Siv, I wish you well in all of these matters. We will discuss the trade another day. But soon I hope," she says as Siv turns for the door.
"You have gotten me into nothing and I have learned something about you, Ranol." she says with an edge to her voice that disappears when he gasps.
Hildis unthinkingly reaches to support him. She stops herself and asks softly while his eyes are closed, "Will you not sit down, please? You are hurt." When he opens his eyes she opens her hands in an offer to help him to a chair.
"You're hurt?!" Siv says, gasping at Ranol. "I'm so sorry! Let me help you! What can I do for you?" She pauses, one foot nearly out the door already.
Ranol opens his eyes, looking between the two concerned ladies. "Er.. Yes. I'm hurt. And," The huskarl looks at Hildis, hesitating. Normally he would just leave and be done with it, but he's been surprising himself a lot lately around this Barazin. "I.. okay. I'll sit, if it's not an imposition." Trolls are so much easier to battle than the whims of women.
And the younger daughter of the Barazin clan fixes Siv with a smile, "I wish you a good day, Siv. And good trading and great resolve."
With gentle firmness Hildis holds the door open for her, "We will take care of him."
Siv hesitates a moment, then nods to Hildis. "All right. I know he'll be in good hands at least. Goodbye, Ranol. Thank you for being courteous enough to talk to me." She opens the door and leaves.
Ranol gives Siv a quiet nod, not smiling but he seems far less frustrated than he did earlier. He waits until the Zinbar is gone, then gives Hildis another expression filled with apology. "I'm so sorry. That was.. " He sighs, shaking his head. "Maybe I better just be on my way as well."
Siv leaves beneath an arch to the northwest, up to the Great Hall of Thain.
Siv has left.
"You will be on your way later. My mother has been visiting her sister who lives some distance from here and she will probably pass the night. My father," she gazes at his doorway and then sighs, "probably is drinking with some friends. So you may sit here at your peace and rest. Do you need something to drink?" she asks and offers him her arm to take him to a chair.
Ranol caves in, and lets her guide him back to a chair. He sits again with a bit of reluctance, but doesn't want to press the improperness of holding onto her arm. "So.. what did you learn?" He asks, looking up at her after shaking his head at the offer of a drink.
Were Ranol able to read her expression he might know that the weight on her arm is not unwanted. She releases it and stands looking down at him, "What you said about yourself: that you are often too kind and it leads to misunderstandings. And perhaps," she tilts her head considering him as she says this, "that you desired that misunderstanding for just a moment."
Ranol shakes his head, "No.. I said I was too polite. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, and I fear I may have led her on as a consequence. I had no interest in marrying her, not really. I thought about it, certainly, but.. " The huskarl frowns, his gaze wandering the room. "Besides the fact that Siv and I have extremely different views of family life and relationships, I have other obligations to consider before I can think about marriage."
After a moment he adds quickly, "To Braldor, I mean. My thane."
"And how do your views differ, Ranol?" she asks returning to her stool.
"My views? From hers? Siv looks at marriage as.. a duty to her family. All she cares about is having children and carrying on her family name. She wants the most 'suitable' husband.." The huskarl shakes his head. "I'd prefer someone that I can care about, and will care for me in return. Duty is important, but so is happiness, I think.."
"She shares my father's views, at least his views concerning me. He married well and my mother married for love and the wealthier of the two. Her dowry and marriage share is long gone," Hildis says bleakly.
Suddenly against the front door comes a loud bang, followed by the quieter sound of glass shattering. Then the sound of a lady's voice spitting out indelicate curses.
"Father," she rises in alarm saying and then stops to listen to the voices. She glances at Ranol with a perplexed frown, "Siv?"
"Oh.. I see. I hope they are happy together?" Ranol asks, trying to find a polite response without sounding phony. "My parents married for love. My grandfather told me that my father went to great lengths to win my mother's affections." He says with a faint smirk, but it passes quickly with the banging sound, his head snapping up and looking towards the door. His instinct as a guard is strong. "Maybe.. Want me to check?" He's already moving to stand again.
"Nay, nay, nay. We just got you settled down. So stay and let me. This is House Barazin." She goes to the door and opens it at a normal speed but ready to hide herself were anyone to launch more glass.
Ranol doesn't seem pleased by this, but he can't catch up her quickly enough. He ignores her denial and trails after her to the door, too concerned of potential trouble.
The door opens to the tableau of Thari standing among large shards of some sort of a broken glass object-- perhaps a platter? She is looking up at the ceiling with the air of one who has had just about enough of this world and its shenanigans.
She looks down a moment after the door opens, apologizing. "I'm /so/ sorry. I'm about to clean th-- Hildis?" she interrupts herself in surprise. Her eyes go beyond to Ranol, then shift from one to the other, mouth opening a little in plain shock.
Finally, now with the air of one gaining her bearings and her place in the world, says sternly to Ranol, "What are YOU doing out of bed?"
"Aye, Hildis," she raises an eyebrow. "You do know that this is clan Barazin? And I will call someone to clean."
She turns into the house and then turns back and with all the politeness in the world, ignoring her accident, her shock and her ordering her guest about in her house, cousin or no, asks, "Won't you come in?"
Ranol looks as surprised as Thari does when he recognizes who is on the other side of the door. He actually flushes, as if caught doing something wrong, then stammers, "I.. well.. I came to see how Hildis is doing. What are you doing here? Visiting Formin?" If she wasn't coming to visit the home of Hilvor (which seems the case) that's the only other reason Ranol can fathom Thari coming to Barazin.
"No, no, I'll clean up my own mess." Thari slowly eases herself to a crouch, her blue skirts bunching over some of the broken glass. Her left arm is no longer in a sling but she still clearly favors it as she slowly places shards into a sack she had been carrying.
"Of course I know this is Barazin's halls. Yes, I was visiting Formin-- saw this lovely thing being sold on the way-- He lives around the corner and a few corridors down. It's Frarin's home, too." And she snaps her lips shut, becoming abruptly silent, looking at the ground as she focuses on her task.
"Please come in," she says almost contritely. "You will hurt yourself. Did it slip from your fingers?" Hildis asks as Svanhilde appears at her side and looks at the broken glass then disappears to reappear in an instant with a dust pan and twig broom.
"Please let Svanhilde do it," she repeats.
Ranol backs into the room again, easing over to the chair again to sit down. He doesn't want Thari to chew him out, and he's still stupefied by the sheer dumb luck he's been having. Before he can even begin to see if he believes his own feelings, fate seems to be throwing everything else in the way first.
Thari picks up her skirts with one hand and follows after Ranol. "Yes, it slipped. I shouldn't have tried to carry such a thing but it was so lovely. You should just have seen how it was cut!" She is speaking to Hildis but watching Ranol as she approaches him.
Amusement sweeps over Hildis and she laughs a moment but she only says, "I will join you in a moment." She stays with Svanhilde giving her instructions and finishes by thanking her.
Coming back in she asks Thari, "What merchant did you buy it from? Was it one of a kind?
Svanhilde passes them with the dustpan full of the debris from her accident.
Ranol watches Thari carefully, a faint smile on his face as that keen intelligence touches his eyes, his mind calculating. The huskarl glances at Hildis, lifting his hand to pluck at the tip of his beard, still keeping quiet.
Thari gives a little affronted sound, then spends a moment with her back to Hildis in silence. The silent moment stretches-- are they speaking in Iglishmek?
Suddenly Thari turns and gives a bleak but distracted glance to Hildis. "I-- ah--" she is almost visibly gathering her thoughts. "I don't remember. I'm sorry." She starts moving toward the door. "I really can't stay. I have dinner plans with Formin and I need to talk to him. I'm sorry," she repeats.
The smile slips from Ranol's face as that silent moment stretches out, and suddenly he has an expression of deep apology on his face for his cousin. His hand drops to his side.
"I thought you said that you had bought it near...are you alright, Thari?" asks coming to face her.
"You are welcome to join us. Svanhilde is bringing tea."
And she does not refer to a cup of herbal water but a tea that would do a Halfling justice with cakes, sliced ham, golden butter, jams and bread. all of which Svanhilde carries in on a tray and sets down on the table near Ranol's chair.
"No, no, I can't stay, I really do need to see Frarin," Thari's hand moves in a dismissive gesture toward Hildis. "I'm sorry. Bit distracted. --Formin!" she abruptly corrects herself from her mistake a moment ago. "I need to see Formin. I haven't heard from Frarin in some time, not in weeks-- he always writes me. He's very good about it."
Thari touches her forehead and pauses a moment with her hand on the door. "I'm sorry. I'm not explaining very well, am I? Frarin is-- he.." she hesitates awkwardly. "Frarin Forli's son is-- well, I love him very much and he's gone and I'm worried. So I must see his cousin. Have a good tea."
And with that, she opens the door and exits, closing it behind her quickly.
"Enjoy the dinner, cousin." Ranol says, sounding almost.. meek? The huskarl looks over when the servant brings in the large setting for tea, his blue eyes widening even as the aroma makes his mouth water. Once Thari is gone, Ranol says in a soft voice, "She misses him greatly."
Hildis does not answer right away, she stands looking at the door. "I feel I did her a mis-service somehow. It was the glass breaking and Siv just having left. Oh! I hope the two of them don't meet."
She settles herself back on the stool arranging her skirt absently as she considers his words, "Does she? How did they meet?"
"You didn't.." Ranol says, shaking his head with a guilty expression crossing his face. "She was criticizing me for being out of bed..." He fesses, lifting his hand and signing a few letters to demonstrate. "She's worried about not having heard from Frarin. They met.. " The Bundazanul takes a moment to think, "Well, I can't say when they first met, but I think they first really became friends when they were both recovering from wounds after a battle, in Bree."
"Sign, eh? Well, we all use it," she smiles as one who has already committed the indiscretion of signing in a tight spot and not wanting to be found out.
"Ah, didn't she mention that the other day about Bree? Was that when she was caught by the troll?" she has an eager look like a child being told an enchanted tale.
"No, the troll was on our journey back from Bree." Ranol shows some relief when Hildis doesn't get offended at learning about the quick hidden conversation. "We had just finished repairing The Last Bridge, and were on our way through the Troll Shaws. Some of our food had been tainted and we were suffering from the poison when the trolls attacked. Thari got snatched by one. Frarin and I went after her."
"Rescued by her true love? Very romantic," she says gently and busies her hands with pouring the hot tea for them both, buttering a slice of bread for Ranol and heaping the plate with ham.
"Have some of the cake when you are ready, Svanhilde is a wonderful baker."
She chews on her own slice reflectively, swallows and says, "It must be terrible for her."
"Oh.. thank you.." Ranol says when given the food. He's finding his own thoughts nearly as distracted as Thari was upon her leaving. But he's thinking about Hildis and her rather rich household, and the fact that the deck is extremely stacked against him should he admit that he might actually like to pursue interest in her. "Yes. She's been miserable since he left. That's partly the reason I was suggesting that you two have things in common. She's lonely."
Hildis had just picked her tea up and puts it down with a smile, "Do I appear lonely? And do not mistake me, I like your cousin.
"You? No.. Not at all." Ranol answers quickly, then adds with a grin, "You have people constantly dropping by your home." He grows serious again, "You and Thari seem to get along well, so I thought that if you spent more time together, it might help distract her from her heartache. It was what I meant to ask you about that day before we were distracted by other things.."
"Well," she says taking a quick bite of ham. "I would spend time with her, gladly but it is not something you can force on a fellow dwarf. But were we too do more than be bashed by a troll together I would be glad of it. Is that what you meant to ask me?"
"Yes... that is all. I wasn't intending to force anything. I was just going to ask if you wanted to have lunch or something together." Ranol says, then adds quickly, "You and Thari, that is...”
A frown crosses her brow. "I am not Siv. We have had lunch together before and I thought nothing of it."
The tea is convenient and she concentrates on it for a spell. "Ah," a grins begins and widens, she looks down as if consulting with herself, "the hardships of being an available bachelor, eh?"
It occurs to him that they are enjoying a meal together now, and the huskarl really is enjoying himself now. He has the plate balanced on his lap so that he can use his good hand. "Siv... she's... She has a way of looking at things and seeing more than they are. I think her intentions are well meant... " he trails off, frowning.
Ranol glances up when she talks about his being a bachelor and his face begins to redden quite against his will. "No... I'm sure that's not it. I think it's the job. I never gained such attention prior to the promotion."
She considers him a moment, a smile jigging in her eyes, "Promotions have a way of marking one for attention...in everyone's eyes."
The smile subsides when she asks, leaning toward him, bread in one hand, "Have you considered that she likes you more than she would admit?"
"Yes... I have thought about that." Ranol admits, his face growing troubled. "I don't have any feelings for her, and... I don't think I could." He rubs his thumb along the edge of the plate, clearly having trouble with this conversation. "She originally approached the idea of marriage as little more than a business deal. And it was nothing more than a couple of conversations, and now she speaks as if we were engaged. It is... frustrating."
"I am sorry," she sighs. "Yet once again I spoke about things that do not concern me. But you have a way about you of inviting dwarves in, you know?" she adds with a rueful smile.
"You don't have to apologize. I would not speak of things if I did not wish to share them...” Ranol says quickly, then after a pause asks curiously, "I do?"
She laughs merrily once quickly, a tone as true as good tempered dwarf metal. "We seldom know how we appear. Not so important for one whose duty it is to protect his Thane. A diplomat needs to know how others see him, a trader benefits from it. Yes. It is your open air a dwarf is ready to trust someone like that."
"I did not realize that. I only try to be honest--to myself and others." Ranol takes a bite of the savory ham, quiet for a long moment. "What of yourself. You wish to be a trader, after your father's business?"
She answers with a quick nod, "We...my father's ventures have not gone so well of late." She presses her lips together, eyes averted as she reflects. "I would change our line. Buy less, use no credit, trade fairly and bring in the small luxuries we have been lacking - dyes and perfumes from the ones in Imladhris, some of the rare fine cloth from the south, perhaps one day ponies from the men of the south."
As an afterthought she adds, "You could do no better than that - being honest to yourself and others.
Ranol nods quietly, his blue eyes roaming the well-decorated room and glancing to the tray of fine foods when she mentions luxuries lacking. His focus goes back to the Barazin, "It sounds like a good plan. I know Thari wishes to continue her trade work."
Hildis catches his look, "We are in debt, Ranol," she says with embarrassment. "We have sold many of our heirlooms - that plate that Thari dropped... well, I think I know where it was sold from. I will. not. have. our. house fail," she finishes in low, determined voice and then sits back with a sigh.
"I would venture with Thari if she would have me. Business and trade ventures between houses is not unheard of, nor marriage. I wish her and Frarin well."
Ranol's blue eyes widen and he is unable to mask the surprise at her words. "I... never would have suspected...” He looks around again, taking in the detailing of the room. When he returns his gaze to her he asks carefully, "What do you mean of marriage? Is that something you're looking for right now?" He keeps the words casual, as if it's nothing more than continuing in a completely friends-only conversation.
"Traders can be good at masking what they do not want seen. Always rub horse’s teeth to see if the whiting comes off," she admonishes shaking her head with a crooked smile. "But not this trader...
She glances about the room, once towards her father's study and looks at him with a simple unguarded expression "Father would have me marry well to fix our fortunes. We do not see eye to eye on this. I will marry who I please and that one, I will love and respect.
She looks away a tiny smile lifting her moustache, "When that person comes then he comes but I do not sit in my home and wait for him."
Ranol nods slowly, focusing on finishing the last bit of food from his plate. "What of your brother? Is he older or younger? What interests does he pursue?" The huskarl glances at the study as well, wondering just what kind of dwarf her father is now. He's only met the man once and that was brief.
"Hiljor? Older," she answers sitting straighter and smiling, "I love him though he and father knock heads constantly. The worst is probably past now that he has finished his apprenticeship with the stone carvers. Father was furious at him, you know. Said that stone carving and moaning about our glorious past was over. He wanted him to take over the trading being the eldest and the son. But it won't happen now, I think."
"Do you have brothers and sisters?"
Ranol listens carefully, happy to let her talk as he moves the plate to the table, and then settles back into the chair. "I don't think there's anything wrong with carving...” He comments with a trace of a smile, his eyes hinting at some hidden amusement. The Bundazanul nods in answer to her question. "Both. A younger brother and sister."
"And?" she is notably happier not talking about marriage or their recent visitors. "What do they do?"
"My brother was working for a long time at shaping metal, and he's quite skilled at it, but he went on a trip to the Iron Hills as part of an apprenticeship, and to visit some old friends of our family and hasn't returned or written. I am not certain what his plans are now." Ranol is thoughtful for a moment, "My sister changes her mind every few years. I think she just wishes to find a good husband and focus on a family."
She nods, settled back on her stool, her plate finished and all the tension of the previous hours erased from her brow. "There are many of our dwarven women who think like her and I honor them. I hope she will be happy. Does your family worry about your brother? And you have not mentioned your father's trade...
"She will be happy... I am sure. She has a carefree way of looking at the world and doesn't let much bother her." Ranol explains, smiling fondly when thinking on his sister. "As for my brother? I worry, but I think it may be good for him to be away, studying elsewhere. He was under a lot of pressure when he was here."
The huskarl grows quiet, his brow creasing as he thinks upon his father. "My father is a woodcarver. We have not gotten along much of late."
A door slams. Heavy footsteps can be heard from the room that Hildis has glanced at throughout the day.
"HILDIS, SVANHILDE - MY SUPPER!" a voice bellows and then a slightly disheveled, flush faced dwarf stands in the doorway of Hilvar's study.
There is dead silence in which the older dwarf sways taking in the scene of his daughter talking to a strange male dwarf. Hildis has risen, the look of alarm quickly wiped from her face and replaced with a careful, neutral expression.
"Father, I will have her bring it to you and while you wait, let me introduce you to Ranol, son of Ranor of Bundazanul." She stands a moment and then heads for the kitchen with quick steps.
Ranol looks around sharply as the door slams while he reflexively reaches to rest his hand on the sword that he isn't wearing. The huskarl sorts out the situation quickly and stands as smoothly as he can with his injuries. He gives the trader a calm smile and bows. "Good evening, Master Trader." He says smoothly, straightening again after a moment. "We met once before, in the Great Hall."
The huskarl takes the time to study Hilvor in light of the new information that Hildis gave him, his gaze glancing over as she leaves the room before returning to the man quickly.
The older dwarf remains in the doorway and straightens as if remembering some of his forgotten dignity. He brushes down his beard, the same shade as Hildis's, unfaded but shot with silver.
"Uh, well, so we have. Not officially mind you." He narrows his eyes trying to look shrewd, "What brings you here?"
Ranol approaches the dwarf, trying to move as unhindered as he can, as if to avoid showing weakness to a potential rival. "I came to see how Hildis is recovering after the fight with the troll." He says, in honesty, and then adds, "We have become friends recently."
"Friends, eh?" he says over loudly. "Friends," he repeats eying him. Hah. Hildis only has friends among the best," he blusters.
Hildis followed by Svanhilde stand in the doorway. A stricken expression is on her face and she swallows. "Father," she says softly. "Your supper is ready."
Svanhilde knowing her business walks around her and sidles past Hilvar with the tray and into his study.
He ignores her and shortens the distance between himself and Ranol. "Only the best," he repeats. "So you're the one? The one who saved them?" Hilvor smells of many hours in the tavern, his beard is partly unbraided the fine vest he wears is stained.
"I was there in the fight, aye. I think it was the warders that scared the troll off, though." Ranol answers, keeping an even tone to his words. "Your daughter fought very well. Commendably." He adds, not looking to Hildis but instead keeping his gaze on Hilvor.
Hilvor staggers back a step to look at Hildis and waves a dismissive hand, "Did she? Well, Barazin were ever fighters. Even the women. Her mother would give me no peace till I let her go. Broke his toe, she did, though. A chip off the old block," he smile blearily and waves his hand again.
"Did Svanhilde bring that food yet, Hild?"
Hildis nearly drops her head in shame when he uses her child name in front of Ranol. She nods. "It is waiting for you - in your study," she says trying to not sound hopeful.
If her father's state of drunkenness fazes him, Ranol doesn't show it. The huskarl nods in agreement with the words, smiling easily. "Aye, Master Hilvor. I saw her make the strike, it was fierce. I only wish she hadn't gotten hurt by the beast." He carefully runs his fingers through his beard, "Do you think it might be okay with you if I taught her some things in training? Once I am healed myself, of course." He gestures to the broken arm he's sporting with good-natured suffering.
Her father jerks his head back and draws himself up to his full height. He is a bit shorter than many dwarves, and the new belly acquired as the family fortunes dwindled hangs over his belt. Thrusting his head forward, "You? Her brother was supposed to do that but HE is too busy to train his own sister."
He waves his hand and turns unsteadily, "Go ahead. Might keep her out of harm's way. Heh. Might break two toes next time." He lurches into his study leaving them in the room which is darkening as the fire dies down.
Hildis takes a few steps toward the fireplace but only stands watching the flames dwindle in silence.
Ranol nods, "Thank you." He watches Hilvor disappear into the other room once more. As a quiet takes over the room, the Bundazanul walks to the fire slowly, approaching Hildis carefully. "What's the matter?" He asks gently. "Should I not have said anything? I thought it might be better if your father approved of my training you... "
She shakes her head negatively without looking at him and then turns to him shame, relief at his matter of factness and weariness written on her face. "No, thank you. Thank you. It was well done."
She whispers, "I hope he remembers tomorrow."
"If he doesn't, I will speak to him again." The huskarl smiles easily, not seeming concerned at all. "It's supper time... I should probably be heading home before my mother worries. Thank you, Hildis.. for being understanding about the situation with Siv." He runs a hand through his hair, uncertainty on his face, "I hope it does not poorly affect your trade."
"Oh, Siv! I had completely forgotten. Trade will be fine," she waves her hand airily. "I...I am sorry that you should meet my father when he is in his cups. But it didn't go so badly."
Hildis begins to clear the remnants of their tea and stops to look back at him, "Siv is more a problem for you than for me, you know."
"Aye... But I would feel bad if I had negatively affected your business." Ranol then adds in a softer tone, smiling. "It is late in the afternoon and dwarves are prone to drinking." He grins, "As long as it's good khazad ale!" He crosses the room to the door, turning one last time to bow carefully, "Have a good evening, Hildis."
Standing by the table she returns his bow, an imperceptible smile under her moustache. "And you as well, Ranol."
Greathall of Thorin Oakenshield (Barazin Thingstead)
Likely to be one of the most beautifully delved halls outside of Khazad-Dum, the Barazin clan's main hall has been designed by the most expert miners and artisans Erebor has. Azure arches leap from the corners of the hall, vaulting towards the ceiling at an ever lower angle until they meet, creating a star of blue crystal, which sheds light over the entire chamber. The floor shines in the light of the star as well as numerous crystal lamps hung around the walls. Reliefs are chiseled into nearly every surface here, depicting the very work it took to create such a masterpiece: dwarves, delving and bringing the art of stonework into these halls. Numerous small arches open along the walls, leading to personal quarters of clan members. A large, reddish arch to the stairs going up to the gate, and another just like it leads south into the mines.
This vast open hall of the Barazin is busy at all hours, for the masterworks of engineering have rendered there a crystal star that spreads is light both day and night. At this more sociable hour however, it is its busiest indeed. Barazin tradesman ply their wares, though these are the minority of the clan's considerable wealth, for iron and stone are purchased by the ton rather than the chunk. Clansmen meet by design and chance to talk and plan.
One such meeting is dawning today, as Odor moves off from a food cart with an iced bun, freshly baked that morning by beautiful women, or so the smoothly spoken salesman had claimed, held in his hand. Meander with no apparent purpose across the hall, he takes hearty bites of the sugary treat with murmurs of satisfaction.
Ranol really shouldn't be out, but it's been a few days and sitting around at home was becoming worse for his health. The huskarl is unarmed, but has his heavy blue cloak of Bundazanul color draped over his frame. Mostly hidden under his cloak and thick black beard his left arm is in a cast and sling, and the dwarven guard moves along slowly, almost gingerly through the crowded hall. His eyes are slowly skimming over the stalls and booths of traders, and he seems to be searching for someone.
Odor's not usually the most spatially aware of dwarves. It is perhaps his one failure as a warrior not having an excellent grasp of his surroundings. As such it is hardly surprising that engrossed in his food, he crosses behind a gaggle of younger beardlings shielding him from Ranol's line of sight and emerging beyond them behind the huskarl, walks straight into him several hundred pounds of dwarf cushioned only by the fact that he didn't have too much momentum worked up. "Ooof!" he complains, bun falling to the floor as the red-bearded Barazin's eyes widen in horror. "You steaming great pillock!" he barks loudly before he even realizes who it is.
Ranol is slammed into from behind, and stumbles with a hiss of pain, dropping to one knee as he loses his balance. He kneels motionless for a moment, his forehead creased. Slowly he stands again with his right hand pressed against his chest, turning to look and see who is insulting him even though they were the ones not looking where they were going. "Odor.. "
The bun is reclaimed with great haste, and turned over for examination as Odor rises. It is only when somebody uses his name that the dwarf cuts short the inspection of the sticky iced glazing and looks up with angry eyes. They promptly soften somewhat as he spies the face of a friend. "Oh, its you Ranol..." a hand makes an effort to brush the sticky bun clean but its not going to work sticky being as sticky does. This moment seems to be enough for Odor's mind to tick over the information his eyes can see, and his bushy 'brows rise up. "What happened to you?"
"Troll.. out on the path by the Mazarbul Gate." The huskarl explains, then gestures vaguely over his arm and chest, "Banged me up pretty well." Ranol studies Odor for a moment, then asks in an almost -too- casual tone of voice, "Odor, do you know where Hildis lives? She's the daughter of Hilvar."
"What?! Troll?!" Odor demands in a shock, looking at once both furious and utterly crestfallen "Why didn't anybody tell me...?" he asks in a mournful tone. He looks Ranol over then, a smirk curling to his lips. "Keeping all the fun to yourself, Ranol. Its very bad taste! Haha!" the short laugh booming out at full-lunged volume as Odor's head tips back and his bearded chin wags.
"Hilvar's daughter?" he asks, when this is finished. "What do you want to see her for?"
Ranol grins, shaking his head. "Aye, bad luck that you weren't around when it attacked. Don't worry, though, I didn't finish it off." He says with a smirk, "So perhaps you can hunt it down yet." The huskarl hesitates when Odor asks why, rubbing the back of his neck. "She was hurt by the troll as well, and I thought I might check in... See how she is doing. You know where she stays?"
"Aye, track it down I will!" Odor grins widely, for such pursuits are where his heart lies. If there is a subtext to Ranol's request Odor seems to have missed it and he inquires earnestly along the lines of the given reason. "What was she doing out by the Mazarbul Gate?" pausing a moment before furthering the line of question. "Or fighting trolls for that matter. Her father must be furious!"
"I really can't say about her father... So.. do you know? Where her home is?" The huskarl shifts with a trace of impatience, glancing around. After a moment he adds in explanation, "We were out for a walk, her, Thari, and I. The troll ambushed us."
The mention of being out for a walk brings a rise to one of Odor's brows, though his none too subtle peering is quickly ended when he mentions Thari being present also. "Ah..." he remarks, considering for a moment. Which, being Odor, is a long moment. "Don't imagine you're flavour of the month 'round there then." he murmurs, an absentminded hand lifting the bun to his mouth and taking a large bite, as he continues to quite literally chew over his thoughts, clarifying with a raise of the treat. "Thirty second rule." At even greater lengths, the Barazin nods. "Aye, she's none too far. Third tunnel past the butcher, second cavern...don't fancy your chances of getting inside alone though, being the reason she was out of her father's care."
"Wait.. what? Why wouldn't I be welcome?" Ranol asks, frowning as he glances around. "I don't know where the butcher is, would you mind showing me?" The huskarl is reaching up to rub his shoulder, still pained from the fall.
Ranol throws his short broadsword up into the air, watches it flip gracefully, then juts his hip out as the sword descends and it lands neatly into his scabbard.
"Well, if I were Hilvor..." Odor mumbles, continuing this train of thought before it departs the station for parts unknown. "...I’d consider that if she were at home, she'd not be in the path of marauding trolls." This is as close to insightful as Odor is known to get, and is itself unusual. "That, and Hilvar’s pretty well off. Be looking to marry her to a nice dwarf in the mining business I ought to think, family rates and all." he chuckles then, reaching a non-sticky hand to stroke his beard. "Aye, be best if I do that I think. Might just get you in the front door at least." he gestures with his bun in the direction that they might travel.
"Odor, I said nothing of ... any of that!" The huskarl hisses, shooting a glare at the Barazin, "I just wish to see how she is doing. We are friends, the three of us." Ranol is too distracted by Odor's connotations of his intentions to notice the mining jibe. He begins moving, his pace slow and careful. He says nothing more as he walks with Odor to the home of Hilvor.
"Eh?" Odor replies, not quite grasping this connection. Though it is made as they walk. "Oh! I didn't say you did...just that Hilvor might see bachelors taking his daughter for walks that way. Let me see to him though, he's got a mouth like an orc with toothache." the big bearded dwarf laughing out loud as they pass along the route he'd spoken of. It’s not so very long, just as he'd said, before they come to the home and a large hand reaches out, thudding forcefully against the heavy door.
Hildis answers the door a key perhaps to seeing the reduced circumstances that her family has fallen on: domestic help has been reduced. She stands in the threshold of a magnificent room carved friezes run the border between polished red walls and high ceilings. Great lanterns hang from elaborate circles on the ceiling, examples of the chandlers’ art of old, are dry and without light. Light comes from smaller humbler sconces set lower on the walls and they illuminate a few pieces of furniture, very clean but far from new. Three large doorways framed and carved lead to other rooms.
Surprise widens her green eyes as she looks from Odor to Ranol and back again. Disbelief and pleasure mix equally but she says a bit sharply, "What are *you* doing out of bed, Ranol?"
From the closest door a voice booms, "If that is Throjor tell him we will discuss the problem tomorrow!" The voice is imperious and edged with self-importance.
"Yes, father, I will," she answers with practiced patience.
She gives a quick smile to Odor, "Oh, hello Odor. How are you doing? You brought him here?" She looks at them both again, nearly stamps her foot to stop an onslaught of the "run-away-from-Ranol-shuffle" and manages a bow.
"Come in," she says at last with a shake of her head.
Ranol had no idea that Hildis's family was so well off, and he can't help but feel a mixture of awe and embarrassment. The latter being because he was worried that she might be intimidated by Thari's home. And then there's another small part of him that feels sudden dismay as he realizes that Odor has the right of things. Hildis is well out of his league.
He glances over at Odor, then back to Hildis and smiles. "I'm much better today. I thought I might come see how you're doing, return the favor. Odor was kind enough to show me to your home." He gives her a short bow, the movement still paining healing ribs, and steps inside.
"Hello Hilvor, its Odor!" the red-headed dwarf roars back in an even more boomy voice, going for volume rather than any sort of descriptive tone. "Kodor says hello!" mentioning his own father's name, one good to know if you like metal and stone, in the same lungful of breath. He quiets to a more sociable tone for short distances, though the dwarf remains quite loud to ordinary standards. "Doing fine thanks..." he answers, hands now devoid of buns which he'd finished along the way. Though a little white mark where sticky glazing has been wiped away can be found on the lower right edge of his tunic. "And you? What were you doing, eh? Fighting trolls..." his tone is not quite scolding, though his words are. The fact that he's grinning from ear to ear might go some way to explaining the why of it as he follows Ranol indoors.
"Please sit both of you," and she indicates the small group of chairs and padded bench before the small fire in the large, stone fireplace. She quickly walks to the doorway, "Father...." looks in with surprise then addresses them both, "Gone," she says baffled and somewhat relieved.
She walks back to them, "Ale for you both but I will have to scare up someone from the kitchen to bring it to us." She then faces Odor, "Yes, fighting trolls, you. Good practice for when I go out trading for my father's concern," she answers with firm, quiet good humor. "Were it not for Ranol though who held it off till the Thane's guards arrived, I would not be here to tell you about it or trade. He took the brunt of it."
She turns to Ranol and says in a soft baritone," I am glad that you are better." She opens her mouth to say more but stops.
Ranol moves to where the chairs are, glad to take a seat. Normally the huskarl is more formal and polite, but his arm is throbbing after Odor knocked him down. He can't help but gaze around at the decorative carvings and furnishings of the room. The conversation pulls his attention back, "Not well enough to work, yet... but soon I'm hoping. Odor is jealous that we did not invite him on our troll-hunt." He smirks.
Some might decline out of a desire not to impose. Especially given that someone from the kitchen must be scared up. But Odor is as Odor does, and when beer is in the offing, no trouble can be said to be too much trouble. He makes his way across to a chair, sizing up one that looks nice and comfy, and plunking himself down upon its cushions. "Aye. Very jealous...but I’ll have the better of both of you when I track the bugger down and use his hide for a cloak, his skill for a tankard." he looks then to Ranol. "You didn't chip it too badly did you?" it would seem that Odor does not consider this to be bravado in the least.
You paged Ranol with 'Oh, I like how this is developing. I had no idea the family would end up as semi-poor aristocrats of a sort but it fits with Barazin history.’
Real fondness for Odor warms Hildis's smile for him. "Odor needs ale and Ranol will give an account of just how many pieces of the troll were removed and remain for you to reduce into smaller pieces when you can, Odor," she stands before them both. The green stones she favors in her beard set off the Barazin red of her dress, skirt and bodice worked in black thread.
"I will be back in no time."
Good to her word, they barely have time to launch into the fine details of the troll encounter before she is back with another dwarf, an older woman with gray in her beard, carrying a tray laden with a pitcher of ale, goblets, bread and cheese. "Thank you Svanhild," she says as the woman lays the tray down.
"Good sirs," she gestures in invitation, 'help yourselves."
"No, not -too- badly. There was another warrior on the path, didn't get a chance to see if I knew him. He mashed its knee pretty well and I got some cuts in with my blade... but, the troll was still well enough when it fled the warders that were coming to meet it." Ranol is beginning to relax, glad that her father has disappeared. "Thari got roughed up pretty bad as well, but she'll be okay. The troll -did- sunder my shield. I'm disappointed in that, it was my grandfather's and I don't think I'll be able to repair it." He scowls, but it vanishes quickly when Hildis returns with food and drink. A nod of appreciation is given to both women but Ranol refrains from taking anything of the tray yet.
"Ah, this is good news!" Odor roars happily, his arms rising with fists closed in a gesture of exuberant triumph at the telling that the skull was, when last the troll was seen, undamaged. The tale of the shield brings a deep frown to his face however, and the fists uncurl though the arms remain raised. "This news is not so good...I like it not!" arms slowly dropping and shaking his head sadly. It is then that Hildis returns and the large dwarf reaches eagerly for a nice big frothy beer. "Tell me some other news..." he bids of them both.
"Go ahead, both of you!" she sits on a stool and slides it to the table and pours the ale into the goblets. "Come on! And did you mention toes in your account, Ranol?" She grins at Odor, his gruffness and loud voice are old and familiar to her. Her smile is shyer to Ranol and her eyes slide away from his only to return.
There is a great performance of bringing the mug of beer, held by both hands up to gesture in thanks to his host, before Odor sets it against his lips and drinks like...well, a dwarf. There is much glugging a little foam builds up around his beard before he's done and the mug lowered, the excess wiped away so as not to be too unsightly. "Aye lass!" another boisterous roar concurs with Ranol's suggestion, newly freed hands clapping before reaching to the platter again and claiming a large hunk of cheese. "Tell me a story and lets see how proud Ranol can be of his war wounds." the dwarf grinning across to the huskarl.
"You tell fine stories," she admonishes Ranol.
"I...well, I, it is my first battle story, you know?" shaking her head at the realization. "Ranol and the other dwarf whose name we don't know had charged the troll. Thari had too. That woman knows no boundaries. Brave as her ancestors. Well, the Huskarl had given it a good blow and received one, too. When I came to my senses, well, I had got so mad at him hurting them both, I jumped in and smashed his foot with Dragon Tooth. And broke his toe! He looked at me with those red eyes of his and I thought, 'So much for trading!' and he knocked me a good one on the shoulder with his axe. She moves her right shoulder gingerly.
"My news is that father did not finishing the braining that the troll had started. We are planning a trip, I think, to the east. What news from you, Odor?"
"Dragon Tooth?" Ranol asks softly, looks over at Hildis with quiet humor in his eyes. He's enjoying his mug at a slower pace, a new reserved manner to his drinking since he heard what Siv had been saying from Eirdis. Drinking problem indeed! Her news has the Bundazanul lifting his thick black brows, "Really? That's good news! It's just what you wanted, right Hildis?"
"Bugger all, lass" Odor replies forlornly, allowing the hunk of cheese to be the ointment for this hurt, as he takes a large bite and chews it thoughtfully. "East? To the Iron Hills?" he asks, pondering this thought not for long, since Ranol seems to have more to say on it. A hand rises to stroke his beard idly. "Well, as great Mahal is believed to have said." he grins then. "Love thy neighbor as thyself...unless he's an Easterling. In which case, kill the bastard!"
That raises a laugh from her, she tilts her head back, green jewels flashing in her beard, "Ah Odor, where *do* you get these sayings from?"
She looks at them both and then quickly glances at the doorway where her father had been, "Yes. I thought for a while it would take nothing short of Mahal's intervention. I cannot wait to be going and we will need a few Barazin with us," she nods meaningfully at Odor.
"It might be quite large. Which...is that dangerous Ranol if there are say, ten or more of us?"
Ranol is grinning as well, taking another longer drink of his ale. "A larger group will be safer, and the roads to the Iron Hills are well-traveled." He casts a glance to Odor, then looks back to Hildis, almost curious in nature. Maybe there are things going on that he doesn't know about.
"Do you know how soon you are leaving?" He asks next.
Glugging down the remainder of his beer, Odor peers within, dissatisfied that it is over and grins broadly back to Hildis. "From the mouth of Mahal, to the hand of Odor." he jibes with her. Aye, I’ll gladly guard your father's wares. If only to keep you..." he gestures with an empty mug. "Out of trouble. Perhaps we'll on to Dale?" this is asked on a hopeful note, a smile curling to the lips. "Drinking Dalemen under the table usually pays for extra provisions..."
A bit more demurely than Odor, Hildis wipes some froth from her moustache and fixes him with a smile, "Odor has always been on the lookout for us. Took care of my brother through a few scrapes so now he will keep *me* out of some. I just hope you don't find that troll to chip into smaller pieces on our trip and meet as many Dalesmen to drink under the table as you can. There may be some of your clan coming Ranol." she says this last with hope. "Thari may come."
"Thari may come but I don't know when we depart."
"Really? Thari? She didn't mention anything about it to me." Ranol seems surprised. "Though, I suppose she might want to go, in hopes of seeing Frarin." He adds with a smile. "It sounds like it will be enjoyable, and I wish you good fortune." His tone is very sincere.
"If you do encounter the troll, Odor, be sure to give it my proper sentiments on what it did to my shield. I wish I had caught the beast's name. Bah."
Odor may not be too quick, but he's subtle enough not to nervously laugh when he's accused of getting people 'out' of scraps. He just smiles and nods, eating his cheese. "Oh I’ll do more than that..." Odor lets out a loud boast. "When I find the thing, I’ll not only have its name, I’ll have it embroidered into the hide and carved in the skull!"
Her intentions are kindly with Odor and she laughs at his threat about the troll. "You just be careful, too."
"Perhaps more of your clan will travel, Ranol," hope burns in her glance. "As you said the larger the party, the safer. I had thought that small meant furtive and quick. And would she see Frarin? I mean, I am confused. I did not know it was common knowledge that they were to marry."
Ranol grins, nodding encouragement to Odor. The huskarl may not be quite as energetic as usual, but that can be attributed to his injured state, surely? He reaches to set his half-empty mug down and picks up a piece of bread to snack on, listening quietly.
When Hildis inquires of Bundazanul he lifts his right shoulder in a half-shrug. "I don't know, perhaps. I am not a trader and I do not follow their ways, I must admit." He presses his lips together when she speaks of his cousin and marriage. "No, it is not. Nothing is set yet, they are still waiting on her father's approval of the courtship."
Finding no beer forthcoming, and with the conversation turning to matters of courtship, love and marriage, Odor finishes the hunk of cheese and rubs his hands. Slapping his thighs, the large dwarf heaves himself out of his chair and looks to the doorway. "I must be off. Things to do, I only meant to bring Ranol here...and get him through the door." he remarks to the other male. "Come and see me some time soon, eh Hildis?"
"When mother bakes your favorite pudding, I will bring you some," Hildis says rising to escort him to the door. "Thank you for escorting him though he shouldn't be here," shoots him a frown.
Ranol pushes to stand, only wincing a trace in pain. He gives Odor a small bow. "Thank you, cousin. I hope you find the troll, though if you are not quick I may track him down myself." He says with a grin, and remains standing to watch Odor leave.
"A pleasure cousin...and that’s a promise I won't forget!" he laughs loudly as he's led to the door. "And if you heal quick enough cousin, I’ll let you come with me...but don't take too long. I don't want it getting away!" with another bellowing laugh, the Barazin is gone, though his voice carries back even as he walks back toward the great hall of the clan. "Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war!"
The Barazin daughter watches Odor out the door, fondness in the shake of her head as she closes it after him. She turns to look at Ranol, her eyes narrow as she seems to assess his health and mood.
"I did not mean to speak out of turn about Thari. I seem to making a habit of that," she says crossing back to her stool.
Ranol is sipping the ale again, having sat down once more to ease the weight of the sling from his neck. He shakes his head, smiling lightly, "You worry too much of it...” He says in a teasing tone, "The rumors being spread are far worse, so I do not think you can cause too much trouble." The huskarl lets out a slow sigh. "The situation is that her father hasn't given his blessing, and Thari and Frarin began the courtship before Frarin spoke with Balur, while we were on the trip. I have done what I can to speak of Frarin's honest intentions, but Balur hasn't yielded yet."
There's a knock on the door.
Outside, Siv shifts from foot to foot, happily whistling a tune to herself as she waits for the door to open.
A smile spreads under her beard, relief at his making light of what she had said and a quickening of interest as they seem to gain more confidence with one another. "Ah," she says when Balur is mentioned. "That is it."
Hildis looks up with surprise at the knock, "Another visitor. Except for ...well, I wonder who it could be." She goes to open and it is only her natural courtesy that keeps her mouth from opening in surprise at seeing the Zinbar trader. "Siv! Come in, please."
Ranol is relaxing again, smiling more easily now that they're alone. Alas, the peace lasts but moments before there's a new knocking at the door. He lifts his gaze to the ceiling, wondering if maybe this was all a bad idea. Then he hears Hildis's greeting and his blue eyes snap over to the doorway. Siv?! The huskarl smiles no longer, and reaches to set the mug down, standing.
"Oh good, Hildis!" Siv gushes. "I was hoping to see you, in fact. I've had a little discussion over the prices of your dyes and...." Siv stop, eyes widening in surprise as she steps into the room. "Oh...uh...Ranol...."
Standing between the two of them Hildis swivels, hands placed over her beard as she looks at Siv then Ranol. Bowing quickly she gestures her in, "Please. Do," she casts one anguished glance at Ranol when she sees his tension, "come in. I am so glad to hear that you have been considering our dyes."
"You don't have to leave," Siv says sharply. "I'm not contagious, you know. You won't catch sharp lying tongue disease from me. Nor will I start spreading nasty rumors about you." Her tone is heavy with sarcasm. "But, oh, I forget. You can't talk to me."
A thin lipped frown slips onto Hildis's face at Siv's tone. She looks long at her, perhaps there is some grudging admiration for just how frank the Zinbar trader is but she did not expect a confrontation in her house. Involuntarily she looks towards her father's study.
"Do you wish to talk to her Ranol?" she asks quietly.
Ranol draws in a slow breath, trying to keep calm as Siv lashes into him. He continues gazing at her in silence, his brow faintly narrowed with unspoken feelings. When Hildis speaks up he turns his head to look at her, his face softening. "I do not wish to bring discord into your home, and I have nothing .. " He hesitates, glancing at the Zinbar again, "I don't want to disrupt any dealings you may have."
"It's all right, Ranol," Siv replies, tone softening at that. "I've come to buy Hildis's dyes, not wreck her home with petty misunderstandings. I'll finish business here quickly and you can stay and continue your visit without having to talk to me."
Ranol looks back at Siv, his gaze hardening again, "Petty. Yes... perhaps it is but who brought it to this, Siv?" He demands in a low voice. He continues in exasperation, some of his frustration with the situation slipping out. "All you had to do was apologize but-." He catches himself as he realizes he's losing his self-control. When he looks back to Hildis he seems indecisive, clearly not wanting to leave but fearing creating drama. "Your trade is important.."
"Your peace of mind is important," Hildis retorts.
She holds up a conciliatory hand. "It is perhaps out of place but if there is no shouting," she raises a questioning eyebrow at Siv, "then perhaps it would be meet for you to talk. I am not adverse to it. And I want your trade, Siv as I want the comfort of my guests."
She glances silently at them both, her baritone voice quiet and firm, "You are welcome to stay, both of you or go as you see fit."
"I DON"T have anything to apologize for!!" Siv snaps, her hands balling into fists and her face going red. "I didn't say ANYTHING about Thari--get it?" She moves closer and closer to Ranol as she speaks. "NOTHING at all. Not one word about Thari......she seems to think that I did. I would like to know WHAT I said...! That she is in love with Frarin? That they fight a lot? That she should protect Frarin's honor by not having him go out late at night drinking? WHAT.......WHAT, Ranol, did I say about her that was so horrid as for her to march into the main hall and hit me? WHAT?"
Ranol walks over, his movements slow and measured. It's partially to help him keep his temper and partially because he's still very hurt from the fight with the troll. He keeps his voice soft, "First. She didn't hit you, she slapped you. Second, Thari is saying that you spread all the rumors about her and Frarin." He says, then adds, "And you told Thari that I have a -drinking- problem? Why would you say that?!" The last is an exasperated whisper.
Siv's raised voiced makes her glance at her father's study again. But only silence issues from there. She does not intervene only nods once as if in approbation at Ranol's calm in the face of Siv's storm.
Siv nearly spits with anger. "I did NOT spread any rumors about Thari and Frarin. In fact, I _TOLD_ Thari that I had heard vague rumors, and she thanked me for letting her know about it. And what I said to Thari about you was that your father has a drinking problem and I was worried about you being out drinking." She sneers. "And that it was a woman's job to watch out for her man's reputation. Is there something wrong with that?"
"Something wrong?!" Ranol almost loses his temper.. almost. He takes a moment to take a slow breath, the cracked ribs doing much to help him keep his head. When he finally speaks it's in a cold but measured voice. "Siv, that's none of your business. I do not have a drinking problem, my father does not have a drinking problem, and my reputation is none of -your- concern."
Hildis has elected to remain in the background limiting herself to occasional glances at her father's study. She watches with growing admiration on her face as Ranol keeps his temper despite Siv's tone. Once her eyebrows lift at the mention of a drinking problem her eye's sliding down and once again to her father's domain.
"I was talking to Thari at the time about husbands and reputation and business. And when I was considering marriage to you, then your reputation and drinking problem or potential for one _were_ my business. At the time." She snorts, turning on her heels and heading for the door. "We'll talk another time, Hildis."
Dawning comprehension widens Hildis's eyes, raises her eyebrows, her eyes dart from one to the other and she begins to redden deeply. She manages a nod to her, "We will talk. But now is not the time as you say. Please come again," she adds and then casts an angry look at Ranol.
"You were talking to Thari about those things in a -public- place, Siv. Others heard you and that's how rumors are spread! Maybe this business with Thari is a misunderstanding, but it was you that was heard talking and you can't pretend that didn't-" The huskarl blinks as something Siv said catches up to him. "I do -not- have a drinking problem!" He demands again, his voice getting harder but he continues to keep the volume low.
"Perhaps you two had better talk in private," Hildis looks at the room as if considering offering it to them. "But not here," she decides.
"I had thought...I had begun to trust you Ranol," she looks at him and for an instant her eyes hold disappointment and loss and then she gestures to the door.
Ranol can see that he isn't accomplishing much and is deeply regretting speaking with Siv at all. When Hildis speaks up he looks to her again, his gaze troubled.. but it's when she speaks of trust and looks so completely disappointed that the huskarl starts to panic. What's happening?? He looks over at Siv, then back to Hildis. "What do you mean? These things.. They're not true." His blue eyes shoot back to Siv, "I do not have problems drinking. You know that, Siv. I got drunk -one- night and .. it was with Odor. You can ask him!" The last is said as he looks back to Hildis, wondering why he's suddenly having his own credibility questioned.
"No need to talk in private, Hildis," Siv nods to her. "Though I apologize for bringing this into your quarters." She turns back to Ranol. "We had been talking about a marriage arrangement, Ranol, and seeing you drunk that night brought up fears I have of having a husband I can't rely on. Don't think your family is the only one with drinking problems.... And even if you don't have a problem, if you show up night after night after hours like that and get horribly drunk, well, folks will think you have a problem, whether or not it's true. Now, as you say, you may not have a problem and your father may not have a problem, but seeing you there brought it to mind for me. And Thari and I had a discussion about the role of women in protecting their man's reputation in a marriage. I think she even agreed with me."
Hildis also takes a deep breath, "You were discussing marriage with Siv, Ranol?"
Ranol listens and the troubled expression grows deeper. The dwarf slowly shakes his heads at Siv's words, feeling as it he's fighting a battle.. a battle that he's losing.
"Just.. stop. Please." His voice softens, his anger dissipating. "Siv, you're mistaken. You spoke of marriage and I was being polite.. maybe that was my mistake, but I don't think it ever would have worked out. I am interested in love and you're interested in.. other things. I'm sorry.. but this has to end. Stop telling people that we were going to arrange a marriage. Please."
"Fine, Ranol. Think of it how you'd like. I won't say anything else. But you have to admit that you _were_ interested there for a while," Siv snorts loudly. "But...you just go on fooling yourself." She shrugs. "As for the rest, I _will_ see my name cleared of this nonsense."
Hildis had held her breath during the last words between the two. She almost yawns from need for air and then she looks at Siv with a puzzled expression, "How is he fooling himself?"
"Siv, I considered the possibility. Yes. But I never took it beyond the first dinner, which was your idea. I even went to talk with Lord Ovor about how I didn't want to mislead you. If you don't believe me, ask him yourself." Ranol's words are soft and gentle, as if he's trying not to hurt her feelings with words that can do just that, if taken poorly.
"I have talked to him," Siv says stiffly. "He agreed we aren't right for each other. Which is why I let it be. But now this whole thing about my saying things about Thari...it's.. I can't stand by and let people say such things about me. The nerve!"
The Barazin daughter briefly considers Ranol, her face expressionless to all but the finest of readers and then looks at Siv. "Are you sure you are resolved to this, Siv? It would seem that Ranol is...resolved. I do not think he wishes you badly," she is silent a long moment.
"Could the matter not be settled directly with Thari when she is better? Gossip of all natures is an ill thing."
Ranol keeps his voice soft, but his words are firm and emphatic, "Siv.. That's not true. You haven't let it be. You brought it up in front of Lord Gimli. You brought it up just now. There was -no- marriage arrangement, I never even spoke with your father. Please.. stop saying that there was." He dares to glance at Hildis now, making a quiet apology, "I'm sorry that you're forced to listen to this."
Siv harrumphs. "There was a discussion. You can't deny that," she tells Ranol. And then to Hildis, "Thari won't even tell me what it is I allegedly said about her. She demands an apology but won't believe me when I say I would swear I've spread no lies about her."
Again Hildis speaks, her voice restrained, her expression carefully neutral. "There can be no doubt there were talks." She shoots Ranol a look. "And interest. But that is past according to Ranol."
It troubles me to hear that you are upset, Thari is upset. I wonder if I could speak to Thari about this?"
"I don't want to talk about this anymore, Siv. I'm not supposed to be speaking with you at all right now." Ranol sounds weary, rubbing the back of his neck again. This was supposed to be a peaceful visit to chat with Hildis and he hasn't gotten much chance for that today. He looks back to the Barazin, "I'm sorry. I really am. I'm going to go.. I didn't mean to get into this at all, least of all here.." The huskarl turns for the door now.
"Fine, Ranol," Siv retorts. "You never talked to me. We never argued. Stupid edict anyhow. This whole thing is stupid," she sighs. "Just _stupid._" Now _she_ turns, pushing past Ranol to try to get to the door first.
Ranol is just reaching for the door handle when Siv forces past him, her elbow catching him in the ribs. He hisses sharply as pain stabs through his side, stumbling a step and pressing his hand against the wall for support. He takes several slow breaths, his eyes closed as he finds that calm center in himself, trying to let his anger dissipate again.
"Siv, I wish you well in all of these matters. We will discuss the trade another day. But soon I hope," she says as Siv turns for the door.
"You have gotten me into nothing and I have learned something about you, Ranol." she says with an edge to her voice that disappears when he gasps.
Hildis unthinkingly reaches to support him. She stops herself and asks softly while his eyes are closed, "Will you not sit down, please? You are hurt." When he opens his eyes she opens her hands in an offer to help him to a chair.
"You're hurt?!" Siv says, gasping at Ranol. "I'm so sorry! Let me help you! What can I do for you?" She pauses, one foot nearly out the door already.
Ranol opens his eyes, looking between the two concerned ladies. "Er.. Yes. I'm hurt. And," The huskarl looks at Hildis, hesitating. Normally he would just leave and be done with it, but he's been surprising himself a lot lately around this Barazin. "I.. okay. I'll sit, if it's not an imposition." Trolls are so much easier to battle than the whims of women.
And the younger daughter of the Barazin clan fixes Siv with a smile, "I wish you a good day, Siv. And good trading and great resolve."
With gentle firmness Hildis holds the door open for her, "We will take care of him."
Siv hesitates a moment, then nods to Hildis. "All right. I know he'll be in good hands at least. Goodbye, Ranol. Thank you for being courteous enough to talk to me." She opens the door and leaves.
Ranol gives Siv a quiet nod, not smiling but he seems far less frustrated than he did earlier. He waits until the Zinbar is gone, then gives Hildis another expression filled with apology. "I'm so sorry. That was.. " He sighs, shaking his head. "Maybe I better just be on my way as well."
Siv leaves beneath an arch to the northwest, up to the Great Hall of Thain.
Siv has left.
"You will be on your way later. My mother has been visiting her sister who lives some distance from here and she will probably pass the night. My father," she gazes at his doorway and then sighs, "probably is drinking with some friends. So you may sit here at your peace and rest. Do you need something to drink?" she asks and offers him her arm to take him to a chair.
Ranol caves in, and lets her guide him back to a chair. He sits again with a bit of reluctance, but doesn't want to press the improperness of holding onto her arm. "So.. what did you learn?" He asks, looking up at her after shaking his head at the offer of a drink.
Were Ranol able to read her expression he might know that the weight on her arm is not unwanted. She releases it and stands looking down at him, "What you said about yourself: that you are often too kind and it leads to misunderstandings. And perhaps," she tilts her head considering him as she says this, "that you desired that misunderstanding for just a moment."
Ranol shakes his head, "No.. I said I was too polite. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, and I fear I may have led her on as a consequence. I had no interest in marrying her, not really. I thought about it, certainly, but.. " The huskarl frowns, his gaze wandering the room. "Besides the fact that Siv and I have extremely different views of family life and relationships, I have other obligations to consider before I can think about marriage."
After a moment he adds quickly, "To Braldor, I mean. My thane."
"And how do your views differ, Ranol?" she asks returning to her stool.
"My views? From hers? Siv looks at marriage as.. a duty to her family. All she cares about is having children and carrying on her family name. She wants the most 'suitable' husband.." The huskarl shakes his head. "I'd prefer someone that I can care about, and will care for me in return. Duty is important, but so is happiness, I think.."
"She shares my father's views, at least his views concerning me. He married well and my mother married for love and the wealthier of the two. Her dowry and marriage share is long gone," Hildis says bleakly.
Suddenly against the front door comes a loud bang, followed by the quieter sound of glass shattering. Then the sound of a lady's voice spitting out indelicate curses.
"Father," she rises in alarm saying and then stops to listen to the voices. She glances at Ranol with a perplexed frown, "Siv?"
"Oh.. I see. I hope they are happy together?" Ranol asks, trying to find a polite response without sounding phony. "My parents married for love. My grandfather told me that my father went to great lengths to win my mother's affections." He says with a faint smirk, but it passes quickly with the banging sound, his head snapping up and looking towards the door. His instinct as a guard is strong. "Maybe.. Want me to check?" He's already moving to stand again.
"Nay, nay, nay. We just got you settled down. So stay and let me. This is House Barazin." She goes to the door and opens it at a normal speed but ready to hide herself were anyone to launch more glass.
Ranol doesn't seem pleased by this, but he can't catch up her quickly enough. He ignores her denial and trails after her to the door, too concerned of potential trouble.
The door opens to the tableau of Thari standing among large shards of some sort of a broken glass object-- perhaps a platter? She is looking up at the ceiling with the air of one who has had just about enough of this world and its shenanigans.
She looks down a moment after the door opens, apologizing. "I'm /so/ sorry. I'm about to clean th-- Hildis?" she interrupts herself in surprise. Her eyes go beyond to Ranol, then shift from one to the other, mouth opening a little in plain shock.
Finally, now with the air of one gaining her bearings and her place in the world, says sternly to Ranol, "What are YOU doing out of bed?"
"Aye, Hildis," she raises an eyebrow. "You do know that this is clan Barazin? And I will call someone to clean."
She turns into the house and then turns back and with all the politeness in the world, ignoring her accident, her shock and her ordering her guest about in her house, cousin or no, asks, "Won't you come in?"
Ranol looks as surprised as Thari does when he recognizes who is on the other side of the door. He actually flushes, as if caught doing something wrong, then stammers, "I.. well.. I came to see how Hildis is doing. What are you doing here? Visiting Formin?" If she wasn't coming to visit the home of Hilvor (which seems the case) that's the only other reason Ranol can fathom Thari coming to Barazin.
"No, no, I'll clean up my own mess." Thari slowly eases herself to a crouch, her blue skirts bunching over some of the broken glass. Her left arm is no longer in a sling but she still clearly favors it as she slowly places shards into a sack she had been carrying.
"Of course I know this is Barazin's halls. Yes, I was visiting Formin-- saw this lovely thing being sold on the way-- He lives around the corner and a few corridors down. It's Frarin's home, too." And she snaps her lips shut, becoming abruptly silent, looking at the ground as she focuses on her task.
"Please come in," she says almost contritely. "You will hurt yourself. Did it slip from your fingers?" Hildis asks as Svanhilde appears at her side and looks at the broken glass then disappears to reappear in an instant with a dust pan and twig broom.
"Please let Svanhilde do it," she repeats.
Ranol backs into the room again, easing over to the chair again to sit down. He doesn't want Thari to chew him out, and he's still stupefied by the sheer dumb luck he's been having. Before he can even begin to see if he believes his own feelings, fate seems to be throwing everything else in the way first.
Thari picks up her skirts with one hand and follows after Ranol. "Yes, it slipped. I shouldn't have tried to carry such a thing but it was so lovely. You should just have seen how it was cut!" She is speaking to Hildis but watching Ranol as she approaches him.
Amusement sweeps over Hildis and she laughs a moment but she only says, "I will join you in a moment." She stays with Svanhilde giving her instructions and finishes by thanking her.
Coming back in she asks Thari, "What merchant did you buy it from? Was it one of a kind?
Svanhilde passes them with the dustpan full of the debris from her accident.
Ranol watches Thari carefully, a faint smile on his face as that keen intelligence touches his eyes, his mind calculating. The huskarl glances at Hildis, lifting his hand to pluck at the tip of his beard, still keeping quiet.
Thari gives a little affronted sound, then spends a moment with her back to Hildis in silence. The silent moment stretches-- are they speaking in Iglishmek?
Suddenly Thari turns and gives a bleak but distracted glance to Hildis. "I-- ah--" she is almost visibly gathering her thoughts. "I don't remember. I'm sorry." She starts moving toward the door. "I really can't stay. I have dinner plans with Formin and I need to talk to him. I'm sorry," she repeats.
The smile slips from Ranol's face as that silent moment stretches out, and suddenly he has an expression of deep apology on his face for his cousin. His hand drops to his side.
"I thought you said that you had bought it near...are you alright, Thari?" asks coming to face her.
"You are welcome to join us. Svanhilde is bringing tea."
And she does not refer to a cup of herbal water but a tea that would do a Halfling justice with cakes, sliced ham, golden butter, jams and bread. all of which Svanhilde carries in on a tray and sets down on the table near Ranol's chair.
"No, no, I can't stay, I really do need to see Frarin," Thari's hand moves in a dismissive gesture toward Hildis. "I'm sorry. Bit distracted. --Formin!" she abruptly corrects herself from her mistake a moment ago. "I need to see Formin. I haven't heard from Frarin in some time, not in weeks-- he always writes me. He's very good about it."
Thari touches her forehead and pauses a moment with her hand on the door. "I'm sorry. I'm not explaining very well, am I? Frarin is-- he.." she hesitates awkwardly. "Frarin Forli's son is-- well, I love him very much and he's gone and I'm worried. So I must see his cousin. Have a good tea."
And with that, she opens the door and exits, closing it behind her quickly.
"Enjoy the dinner, cousin." Ranol says, sounding almost.. meek? The huskarl looks over when the servant brings in the large setting for tea, his blue eyes widening even as the aroma makes his mouth water. Once Thari is gone, Ranol says in a soft voice, "She misses him greatly."
Hildis does not answer right away, she stands looking at the door. "I feel I did her a mis-service somehow. It was the glass breaking and Siv just having left. Oh! I hope the two of them don't meet."
She settles herself back on the stool arranging her skirt absently as she considers his words, "Does she? How did they meet?"
"You didn't.." Ranol says, shaking his head with a guilty expression crossing his face. "She was criticizing me for being out of bed..." He fesses, lifting his hand and signing a few letters to demonstrate. "She's worried about not having heard from Frarin. They met.. " The Bundazanul takes a moment to think, "Well, I can't say when they first met, but I think they first really became friends when they were both recovering from wounds after a battle, in Bree."
"Sign, eh? Well, we all use it," she smiles as one who has already committed the indiscretion of signing in a tight spot and not wanting to be found out.
"Ah, didn't she mention that the other day about Bree? Was that when she was caught by the troll?" she has an eager look like a child being told an enchanted tale.
"No, the troll was on our journey back from Bree." Ranol shows some relief when Hildis doesn't get offended at learning about the quick hidden conversation. "We had just finished repairing The Last Bridge, and were on our way through the Troll Shaws. Some of our food had been tainted and we were suffering from the poison when the trolls attacked. Thari got snatched by one. Frarin and I went after her."
"Rescued by her true love? Very romantic," she says gently and busies her hands with pouring the hot tea for them both, buttering a slice of bread for Ranol and heaping the plate with ham.
"Have some of the cake when you are ready, Svanhilde is a wonderful baker."
She chews on her own slice reflectively, swallows and says, "It must be terrible for her."
"Oh.. thank you.." Ranol says when given the food. He's finding his own thoughts nearly as distracted as Thari was upon her leaving. But he's thinking about Hildis and her rather rich household, and the fact that the deck is extremely stacked against him should he admit that he might actually like to pursue interest in her. "Yes. She's been miserable since he left. That's partly the reason I was suggesting that you two have things in common. She's lonely."
Hildis had just picked her tea up and puts it down with a smile, "Do I appear lonely? And do not mistake me, I like your cousin.
"You? No.. Not at all." Ranol answers quickly, then adds with a grin, "You have people constantly dropping by your home." He grows serious again, "You and Thari seem to get along well, so I thought that if you spent more time together, it might help distract her from her heartache. It was what I meant to ask you about that day before we were distracted by other things.."
"Well," she says taking a quick bite of ham. "I would spend time with her, gladly but it is not something you can force on a fellow dwarf. But were we too do more than be bashed by a troll together I would be glad of it. Is that what you meant to ask me?"
"Yes... that is all. I wasn't intending to force anything. I was just going to ask if you wanted to have lunch or something together." Ranol says, then adds quickly, "You and Thari, that is...”
A frown crosses her brow. "I am not Siv. We have had lunch together before and I thought nothing of it."
The tea is convenient and she concentrates on it for a spell. "Ah," a grins begins and widens, she looks down as if consulting with herself, "the hardships of being an available bachelor, eh?"
It occurs to him that they are enjoying a meal together now, and the huskarl really is enjoying himself now. He has the plate balanced on his lap so that he can use his good hand. "Siv... she's... She has a way of looking at things and seeing more than they are. I think her intentions are well meant... " he trails off, frowning.
Ranol glances up when she talks about his being a bachelor and his face begins to redden quite against his will. "No... I'm sure that's not it. I think it's the job. I never gained such attention prior to the promotion."
She considers him a moment, a smile jigging in her eyes, "Promotions have a way of marking one for attention...in everyone's eyes."
The smile subsides when she asks, leaning toward him, bread in one hand, "Have you considered that she likes you more than she would admit?"
"Yes... I have thought about that." Ranol admits, his face growing troubled. "I don't have any feelings for her, and... I don't think I could." He rubs his thumb along the edge of the plate, clearly having trouble with this conversation. "She originally approached the idea of marriage as little more than a business deal. And it was nothing more than a couple of conversations, and now she speaks as if we were engaged. It is... frustrating."
"I am sorry," she sighs. "Yet once again I spoke about things that do not concern me. But you have a way about you of inviting dwarves in, you know?" she adds with a rueful smile.
"You don't have to apologize. I would not speak of things if I did not wish to share them...” Ranol says quickly, then after a pause asks curiously, "I do?"
She laughs merrily once quickly, a tone as true as good tempered dwarf metal. "We seldom know how we appear. Not so important for one whose duty it is to protect his Thane. A diplomat needs to know how others see him, a trader benefits from it. Yes. It is your open air a dwarf is ready to trust someone like that."
"I did not realize that. I only try to be honest--to myself and others." Ranol takes a bite of the savory ham, quiet for a long moment. "What of yourself. You wish to be a trader, after your father's business?"
She answers with a quick nod, "We...my father's ventures have not gone so well of late." She presses her lips together, eyes averted as she reflects. "I would change our line. Buy less, use no credit, trade fairly and bring in the small luxuries we have been lacking - dyes and perfumes from the ones in Imladhris, some of the rare fine cloth from the south, perhaps one day ponies from the men of the south."
As an afterthought she adds, "You could do no better than that - being honest to yourself and others.
Ranol nods quietly, his blue eyes roaming the well-decorated room and glancing to the tray of fine foods when she mentions luxuries lacking. His focus goes back to the Barazin, "It sounds like a good plan. I know Thari wishes to continue her trade work."
Hildis catches his look, "We are in debt, Ranol," she says with embarrassment. "We have sold many of our heirlooms - that plate that Thari dropped... well, I think I know where it was sold from. I will. not. have. our. house fail," she finishes in low, determined voice and then sits back with a sigh.
"I would venture with Thari if she would have me. Business and trade ventures between houses is not unheard of, nor marriage. I wish her and Frarin well."
Ranol's blue eyes widen and he is unable to mask the surprise at her words. "I... never would have suspected...” He looks around again, taking in the detailing of the room. When he returns his gaze to her he asks carefully, "What do you mean of marriage? Is that something you're looking for right now?" He keeps the words casual, as if it's nothing more than continuing in a completely friends-only conversation.
"Traders can be good at masking what they do not want seen. Always rub horse’s teeth to see if the whiting comes off," she admonishes shaking her head with a crooked smile. "But not this trader...
She glances about the room, once towards her father's study and looks at him with a simple unguarded expression "Father would have me marry well to fix our fortunes. We do not see eye to eye on this. I will marry who I please and that one, I will love and respect.
She looks away a tiny smile lifting her moustache, "When that person comes then he comes but I do not sit in my home and wait for him."
Ranol nods slowly, focusing on finishing the last bit of food from his plate. "What of your brother? Is he older or younger? What interests does he pursue?" The huskarl glances at the study as well, wondering just what kind of dwarf her father is now. He's only met the man once and that was brief.
"Hiljor? Older," she answers sitting straighter and smiling, "I love him though he and father knock heads constantly. The worst is probably past now that he has finished his apprenticeship with the stone carvers. Father was furious at him, you know. Said that stone carving and moaning about our glorious past was over. He wanted him to take over the trading being the eldest and the son. But it won't happen now, I think."
"Do you have brothers and sisters?"
Ranol listens carefully, happy to let her talk as he moves the plate to the table, and then settles back into the chair. "I don't think there's anything wrong with carving...” He comments with a trace of a smile, his eyes hinting at some hidden amusement. The Bundazanul nods in answer to her question. "Both. A younger brother and sister."
"And?" she is notably happier not talking about marriage or their recent visitors. "What do they do?"
"My brother was working for a long time at shaping metal, and he's quite skilled at it, but he went on a trip to the Iron Hills as part of an apprenticeship, and to visit some old friends of our family and hasn't returned or written. I am not certain what his plans are now." Ranol is thoughtful for a moment, "My sister changes her mind every few years. I think she just wishes to find a good husband and focus on a family."
She nods, settled back on her stool, her plate finished and all the tension of the previous hours erased from her brow. "There are many of our dwarven women who think like her and I honor them. I hope she will be happy. Does your family worry about your brother? And you have not mentioned your father's trade...
"She will be happy... I am sure. She has a carefree way of looking at the world and doesn't let much bother her." Ranol explains, smiling fondly when thinking on his sister. "As for my brother? I worry, but I think it may be good for him to be away, studying elsewhere. He was under a lot of pressure when he was here."
The huskarl grows quiet, his brow creasing as he thinks upon his father. "My father is a woodcarver. We have not gotten along much of late."
A door slams. Heavy footsteps can be heard from the room that Hildis has glanced at throughout the day.
"HILDIS, SVANHILDE - MY SUPPER!" a voice bellows and then a slightly disheveled, flush faced dwarf stands in the doorway of Hilvar's study.
There is dead silence in which the older dwarf sways taking in the scene of his daughter talking to a strange male dwarf. Hildis has risen, the look of alarm quickly wiped from her face and replaced with a careful, neutral expression.
"Father, I will have her bring it to you and while you wait, let me introduce you to Ranol, son of Ranor of Bundazanul." She stands a moment and then heads for the kitchen with quick steps.
Ranol looks around sharply as the door slams while he reflexively reaches to rest his hand on the sword that he isn't wearing. The huskarl sorts out the situation quickly and stands as smoothly as he can with his injuries. He gives the trader a calm smile and bows. "Good evening, Master Trader." He says smoothly, straightening again after a moment. "We met once before, in the Great Hall."
The huskarl takes the time to study Hilvor in light of the new information that Hildis gave him, his gaze glancing over as she leaves the room before returning to the man quickly.
The older dwarf remains in the doorway and straightens as if remembering some of his forgotten dignity. He brushes down his beard, the same shade as Hildis's, unfaded but shot with silver.
"Uh, well, so we have. Not officially mind you." He narrows his eyes trying to look shrewd, "What brings you here?"
Ranol approaches the dwarf, trying to move as unhindered as he can, as if to avoid showing weakness to a potential rival. "I came to see how Hildis is recovering after the fight with the troll." He says, in honesty, and then adds, "We have become friends recently."
"Friends, eh?" he says over loudly. "Friends," he repeats eying him. Hah. Hildis only has friends among the best," he blusters.
Hildis followed by Svanhilde stand in the doorway. A stricken expression is on her face and she swallows. "Father," she says softly. "Your supper is ready."
Svanhilde knowing her business walks around her and sidles past Hilvar with the tray and into his study.
He ignores her and shortens the distance between himself and Ranol. "Only the best," he repeats. "So you're the one? The one who saved them?" Hilvor smells of many hours in the tavern, his beard is partly unbraided the fine vest he wears is stained.
"I was there in the fight, aye. I think it was the warders that scared the troll off, though." Ranol answers, keeping an even tone to his words. "Your daughter fought very well. Commendably." He adds, not looking to Hildis but instead keeping his gaze on Hilvor.
Hilvor staggers back a step to look at Hildis and waves a dismissive hand, "Did she? Well, Barazin were ever fighters. Even the women. Her mother would give me no peace till I let her go. Broke his toe, she did, though. A chip off the old block," he smile blearily and waves his hand again.
"Did Svanhilde bring that food yet, Hild?"
Hildis nearly drops her head in shame when he uses her child name in front of Ranol. She nods. "It is waiting for you - in your study," she says trying to not sound hopeful.
If her father's state of drunkenness fazes him, Ranol doesn't show it. The huskarl nods in agreement with the words, smiling easily. "Aye, Master Hilvor. I saw her make the strike, it was fierce. I only wish she hadn't gotten hurt by the beast." He carefully runs his fingers through his beard, "Do you think it might be okay with you if I taught her some things in training? Once I am healed myself, of course." He gestures to the broken arm he's sporting with good-natured suffering.
Her father jerks his head back and draws himself up to his full height. He is a bit shorter than many dwarves, and the new belly acquired as the family fortunes dwindled hangs over his belt. Thrusting his head forward, "You? Her brother was supposed to do that but HE is too busy to train his own sister."
He waves his hand and turns unsteadily, "Go ahead. Might keep her out of harm's way. Heh. Might break two toes next time." He lurches into his study leaving them in the room which is darkening as the fire dies down.
Hildis takes a few steps toward the fireplace but only stands watching the flames dwindle in silence.
Ranol nods, "Thank you." He watches Hilvor disappear into the other room once more. As a quiet takes over the room, the Bundazanul walks to the fire slowly, approaching Hildis carefully. "What's the matter?" He asks gently. "Should I not have said anything? I thought it might be better if your father approved of my training you... "
She shakes her head negatively without looking at him and then turns to him shame, relief at his matter of factness and weariness written on her face. "No, thank you. Thank you. It was well done."
She whispers, "I hope he remembers tomorrow."
"If he doesn't, I will speak to him again." The huskarl smiles easily, not seeming concerned at all. "It's supper time... I should probably be heading home before my mother worries. Thank you, Hildis.. for being understanding about the situation with Siv." He runs a hand through his hair, uncertainty on his face, "I hope it does not poorly affect your trade."
"Oh, Siv! I had completely forgotten. Trade will be fine," she waves her hand airily. "I...I am sorry that you should meet my father when he is in his cups. But it didn't go so badly."
Hildis begins to clear the remnants of their tea and stops to look back at him, "Siv is more a problem for you than for me, you know."
"Aye... But I would feel bad if I had negatively affected your business." Ranol then adds in a softer tone, smiling. "It is late in the afternoon and dwarves are prone to drinking." He grins, "As long as it's good khazad ale!" He crosses the room to the door, turning one last time to bow carefully, "Have a good evening, Hildis."
Standing by the table she returns his bow, an imperceptible smile under her moustache. "And you as well, Ranol."
Players: Ranol, Odor, Hildis, Hilvar
Located in: Erebor
