Elendor
Tombs and taverns
Frarin seeks out Ranol to say his farewells before leaving Erebor, and as they sup at the Dragon's Breath Tavern, they are joined by Gunnarr and Ranol's father.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Dragon's Breath Tavern
Game Date: September 3044
IC Time: Evening
Description:
Underhalls, Tower of Thorin I (Zinbar Thingstead)(#7592RtAU)
The Great Hall of the Zinbar clan, fully three hundred yards across, and perfectly circular in its layout. Fourty three small arches lead out of here, spaced evenly at twenty two yards apart. One is the main exit to the southwest, the rest are personal holdings. From far above light pours in, shining greenish upon the walls during the day, and then a light blue in the moonlight by some trick of the minerals of the smooth carven walls.
Contents:
Ranol
Obvious exits:
Southwest leads to Greathall of Thrain II.
Double Bronze Doors (North) leads to Thane Zinbar's Chambers.
Long Tunnel (East) leads to Clan Zinbar Gate.
[Ranol(#26812)] Anyone seeking out the Huskarl of Bundazanul will have a difficult time tracking him down. It's only a clan-karl that knows where Ranol son of Ranor has gone to the tombs of Clan Zinbar. Why he has gone there is unknown beyond 'seeing to some business', but it was a couple of hours ago that he was seen leaving the Bundazanul chambers.
It's deep within the dark tunnels of the mountain where Ranol's grandfather, Kurn, lays in rest.There are few lamps lighting the way, and one could walk right by Ranol if they were not looking for him, for he has no personal lantern that he carries and the nearest source of light is at least a dozen paces away. Resting against the wall are his shield and sword, forgotten for the moment.
He's standing alone, head bowed with one hand pressed against the end of the stone coffin that's tucked into a recession in the tunnel wall. The expression on the huskarl's face is one of deep personal grief, a level of emotional depth that Ranol rarely shares with others. It seems out of place on the face of the normally mild-mannered dwarf, even in a tomb.
Clenched in his free hand is what looks to be several pages of parchment with sharp creases where they were folded. On the stone tunnel floor near his feet lays the remains of an envelope. The wax seal is broken and the paper shows discoloration where fingers disturbed heavy dust that had settled in the two years it sat undisturbed.
[Frarin] Far down the tunnel there is the sound of heavy footsteps. It is quite some distance off yet, but in the stillness of the long corridor, the echoes are unmistakable the footsteps come with a noticeable rhythm, as of one limping. And soon there is the faint golden glow of an approaching lantern. The steps grow closer.
[Ranol(#26812)] While there isn't a terrible amount of traffic in the halls of the dead, Ranol isn't pulled from his personal grief by the sound of one approaching. His eyes are closed and he's completely wrapped in his own thoughts, all the stress and troubles in his life plain upon his face.
[Frarin] Closer come the footsteps and the glow of the lantern until at last the pale goldenness alights upon the standing figure of Ranol. This brings the steps to a halt and the lantern, held at waist level, is brought up. It casts shadow all about its bearer's face, the red tunic worn as red as blood in the odd lighting, but it is unmistakably Frarin son of Forli who stands before the huskarl. He is silent, face wooden as he stands still some way from Ranol, but he does clear his throat after a moment.
Ranol looks up at the sound, his blue eyes looking green in the yellow light of the lantern. "Frarin.." There's confusion at first, since he hadn't expected anyone to come find him here, least of all Frarin. Then his confusion is replaced in a flash of fear, "Is something wrong?!"
[Frarin] Frarin nods at Ranol, but with the huskarl's flash of fear, his brows knit together suddenly and he shakes his head, frowning. "What? No," he rumbles, speaking quietly so as to keep the echoes from bouncing too greatly in the long tunnel. "No, nothing wrong." At least with him, says his tone, for despite that declaration he is still looking at Ranol, that prying curiosity quite familiar for him playing across Frarin's expression. There is a hint of concern also.
Ranol calms, the sudden panic fading. He begins carefully folding up the letter in his hand, almost reverantly. "This is my grandfather's tomb." He explains in a quiet voice, then asks, "Why are you here? Are you visiting someone?" That would be quite the coincidence, since it's Zinbar's crypt and niether of them hail from the clan directly.
[Frarin] Frarin nods at Ranol's explanation, his eyes going to the tomb and then the letter that the huskarl folds up, but he says nothing about either as yet. "No," he says gruffly, shaking his head. "I came only seeking you out, I have no kin in Zinbar." Again Frarin glances at the tomb as he falls into silence, but abruptly his eyes catch something and he rumbles, faintly surprised, "He died while we were gone?"
[Ranol(#26812)] "Aye.. he was old. I suspected as much when the trip grew longer than anticipated." Ranol leans down to pick up the envelope, shaking it free of dust and tucking the letter back inside. As the moments pass he pushes away the stress and concerns, tucking his emotions away for later. "What do you need? I haven't seen you since we've gotten back. Are things well?"
[Frarin] Frarin is quiet as Ranol answers him, though he does frown and mutters, "I am sorry." At the huskarl's questions, however, Frarin's frown deepens and his lips press together. After a moment, he briefly lowers his eyes and shakes his head. "They could be better," he rumbles. There seems to be a great many thoughts behind those words, spoken low and slowly.
Straightening again, he clears his throat. "I am going away for a time, to the Iron Hills. An old friend of mine has been recently killed in a mining accident and left me the executor of his will. But I wished to give you my farewell before departing, and...to apologise as well, I think."
Ranol slowly folds the envelope in half and slides it into a pocket, listening carefully. "You have my condolences, for your friend." He says softly, frowning as well. Yet, when Frarin mentions an apology the huskarl seems confused again. "Apologize for what? Is Thari going with you? As good friends as we've become, I'm sure I can manage without her for a time.." He says with a small smile, trying to lighten the somber mood, despite the location and his own clinging grief.
[Frarin] Frarin's lips part very slightly, betraying a hint of surprise at Ranol's question, but then he shakes his head. "Thari? No, no I have asked Thari to stay here. Her family has been...less than warm with me and I thought it best for her to show them her continued loyalty to them as well. Though I am not sure what effect my leaving may have on her father Balur."
He purses his lips, unsure whether to explain the real reason for his apology now. Or at least unsure how to phrase his explanation. With a frown, he speaks, but there is a wariness in his tone. "Have you...spoken with your father of late?"
Ranol nods quietly, moving now to pick up his shield and swordbelt. "I'm sorry. Maybe I can go speak to my uncle.. " There is a hint of doubt in his voice since he knows how Balur can be. As he straps on the sword once more he give Frarin a wary glance. "My father?" There's a significant pause, then he answers with an edge to his voice. "We are not on speaking terms right now. Why?"
[Frarin] Frarin gives a gentle breath as if the need for the wariness in his tone were confirmed. He clears his throat, looking at Ranol with head tipped forward and brows lifted. "I met your father, Ranol, two days ago. He came to the home of my cousin Formin - my home also when I am at Erebor - or rather, he followed Thari there." There is an unpleasant pause as Frarin seems to grapple with how to continue in as politically correct a way as possible. "It was not a...cordial meeting."
[Ranol(#26812)] The silence of the tomb is is only broken by the sounds of Ranol's breathing for .. almost ten breaths. He blinks once or twice, his brow creased as he fights an internal struggle, then finally asks, "What happened?"
[Frarin] That is a very long silence, here deep in the stilled heart of Erebor, but Frarin stubbornly does not break it until Ranol responds. "Thari's visit was not strictly prohibited by her father," he rumbles, once the huskarl has spoken. "But I am sure Balur would not have approved. Be that as it may...when your--Ranor--" he abruptly switches to using Ranor's proper name, rather than naming him merely as Ranol's father "--insisted that he had a duty to return Thari to her father, well, rash words were exchanged. I, at least, did not feel anyone had the right to return Thari anywhere."
Another pregnant pause, with Frarin frowning now more deeply than before. He gives Ranol that same appraising look, head tipped forward. Oddly though, there is not the usual critical challenge in the silversmith's gaze. "Ranor...spoke...offensively in the end. I thought you would have heard of this incident by now." Another pause, then, "I struck him."
[Ranol(#26812)] Ranol runs a hand through his hair, listening with a troubled expression on his face that is a paler version of the stress he displayed earlier, when Frarin first approached. "You hit my father?" He asks, looking displeased. "What did he say to make you lose your temper in such a way?" The huskarl saw the bruise on Ranor's face, last evening, but didn't inquire about it then. Now he understands.
[Frarin] "Ranol," Frarin says gruffly, very slightly defensively, but only -very- slightly. "I know your father has not always done best by you, but he is still your father and I would prefer not to repeat his words. They concerned Thari and I did not feel any dwarf should be spoken of in such a manner, much less Thari. I will not apologise to Ranor, but he is your father and you are a friend, so I wished at least to apologise to you. I was not aware you had not even heard of the incident."
Ranol says, "Frarin. Please. Tell me what he said. I'm not judging your decision, but I want to understand the situation." Ranol's voice has a raw edge to it, the strain of keeping his own growing feelings in check. The huskarl looks as if his return home has brought anything but happiness.
[Frarin] The silversmith is silent a long time. Still frowning, he keeps his gaze level with Ranol's, a tumble of conflicting thoughts going on behind his eyes. He looks still reluctant to share the father's words with the son, but also as if he understands Ranol's desire to know and agrees with it. The latter feeling wins in the end. Very quietly, as if the emptiness of the tunnel might be eavesdropping, Frarin answers the huskarl. "He warned me against stealing tarts from Balur's kitchen."
Ranol draws in a slow breath, nodding slowly as he takes in the words. "Do you know why he was following Thari?" The huskarl seems calm, but there's an anger burning in his gaze now. They may not be on speaking terms now but that situation looks as if it may change very shortly.
[Frarin] Frarin is frowning unhappily, especially with that look in Ranol's eyes so clearly evident, even in the pale light of the lantern. "I do not know why he was following her. He said that he saw her entering the Barazin Thingstead. Our attachment, as I am increasingly learning, is being observed by not a few others. I don't doubt Ranor had heard of it and was...curious about her coming to Barazin."
Ranol turns his gaze away now, trying to collect his thoughts and keep the pot that's been boiling for days from bubbling over. He looks back towards the tomb of his grandfather, as if the lifeless stone will somehow give him an answer to his problems. "I'm sorry, Frarin. He had no business interfering. I'll speak with him." His tone is still calm, but that underlying edge hasn't faded, and when Ranol looks back at Frarin there's shame in his eyes. "The words he said.. I'm sure they were only intended to provoke you."
[Frarin] Frarin takes a very slow breath, face grim with sudden thoughts at Ranol's words. Provoke? Yes certainly, and for more than personal delight. But the silversmith does not say that. Indeed, although his expression might betray a great many feelings about Ranol's comment about provocation, Frarin makes no comment on that specifically.
"I was not looking for an apology, Ranol. It is not your responsibility, nor your shame. I wanted only to apologise to you, for losing my temper. Do not even speak with him on the subject, if it will only bring more strife between you - that was not my intention. What is done is done, and it was a matter between Ranor and myself."
Ranol quickly shakes his head. "Someone has to take responsibility for him. He's disrespecting himself and everyone around him over petty, vindictive.. If I stand by and do nothing, I will be throwing away three years of my life without a fight!" The huskarl grimaces as he realizes he just said more than he meant to. He lowers his voice again, "Don't apologize for defending Thari."
[Frarin] "I am not apologising for defending Thari," Frarin says firmly, quite decided in that. "Thus why I am apologising to you and not him." He quiet a moment longer, but it is not long before the silversmith says gruffly, "You would not be throwing aside three years of your life, even if you stand by and do nothing, cousin. These past three years may have started as a repayment of your father's debts, Ranol, but you know that is no longer the case. You are Huskarl of Bundazanul. Remember that."
[Ranol(#26812)] "Debts.. " Ranol laughs now, the nervous kind that holds no joy or amusement. "It was -a- debt.. but debts is an accurate word now." He runs his hands through his hair again, closing his eyes for a moment to calm his frazzled nerves. He takes a slow breath, glancing at the tomb again, stone cold and emotionless. "How is Thari? Is she upset?" Ranol sounds more at peace now, his aggravation easing as he focuses outside the immediate problem.
[Frarin] "Thari is fine," Frarin says gruffly, lips pursing. "She was more pleased with my defensiveness, I think, than upset at her uncle's words. She..." He breaks off, thoughtful, then sighs and shakes his head. "I would ask you to look after her while I am gone. I do not know yet if Balur will give his blessing, and that indecision may wear on her, especially with my absence."
[Ranol(#26812)] "Of course.. " Ranol says with a nod, "And I may go speak with my Uncle Balur." He says with a small furrow to his brows, "If I do I will lend what support I can, for the both of you." The huskarl glances around, noticing their location for conversation for what it is now, "Are you in a terrible hurry to depart, or do you have time to grab some dinner, cousin?"
[Frarin] Frarin nods appreciatively at Ranol's offer to speak with Balur, for once not immediately denying help from someone else in relation to his own affairs. "I will not deny that I would be grateful. Balur wants me to plead my own case, but...I am not overmuch fond of revealing my own affairs to others, or gloating about myself. Nor do I have any wish to treat this as a business deal, and myself as the best buyer." There is a tinge of bitterness at that, but then Frarin is nodding again. "Aye, I have not yet supped for the evening. I leave early tomorrow morning with my brother, and I have set everything in order for our departure already."
Ranol grins finally, the first show of good humor since the conversation began. "Ah, but that is the language of my uncle, and ... I'm sure he is only testing your resolve under such a guise. I'll answer his questions as honestly as I may, if he'll speak with me about it." The dwarf slings his shield to his back, then hesitates with another long look towards the tombs of his ancestors. "Could I have just a moment more, please? I'll catch up with you at the entrance."
[Frarin] Frarin nods silently without argument and lowers his lantern to his waist again. He turns and soon only the glow of his lantern and the thump of his limping walk drift back to Ranol. And before long, even that ceases. The stillness returns.
Ranol returns to stand at the tomb. It's the final resting place of the dwarf that was more a father to him than his own ever was, and maybe only now is he finally realizing that. It feels a betrayal, but did Ranor not betray everything his son did in return? The rift between them grows larger every day, but Ranol still harbors hope that they might find a way to reconcile some way or another. After a time he finally moves on to catch up to Frarin.
Dragon's Breath Tavern(#8227RtMU)
This is a large, rounded, brightly lit hall full of loud and boisterous dwarves. On each side of the main walkway are cushioned seats, tables of finely carved stone, games of skill to play and even some games to bet on. The cream colored walls add a soft accent to the room. The hall's most prominent feature is the bar, along the back wall, behind which a variety of jars, bottles, and casks are lined, guarded by the barkeeper during business hours. Above the bar hangs a sign that declares: "NORIN of Bundazanul, Proprietor" and beneath that, "Libations home-brewed, never imported!"
Contents:
Ranol
Hnikar(#24703XM)
Obvious exits:
Battered Copper Door (Out) leads to Trader's Way (Hall of Grar).
Back Door leads to Underhalls, Tower of Thorin I (Zinbar Thingstead).
[Frarin] It is already well into the evening and the Dragon's Breath Tavern is more than busy. Noise and more noise echoes all around the long, wide hall of booths and tables. A great many of the tavern's patrons are taking their supper still, but many have graduated to mugs of ale and beer and games of cards or darts or dice.
The battered copper door is pushed inward, gleaming in the bright light of the tavern. Frarin steps in, pulling at his beard looking down the long room. After a moment, he glances behind him to Ranol, then heads for a nearby empty table.
Ranol follows, and when he sees the crowd he begins to wish he had stopped home first to shuck off his armor and fighting gear. It's the sort of thing people notice and the least he wants right now is to be noticed. Still, other than a few glances and whispers that get lost in the noise, it's not as bad as the huskarl fears. He takes a seat, pulling some coins free in anticipation of ordering. "So, how long do you think you'll be gone?"
[Frarin] "I'm not sure," Frarin rumbles, taking a seat himself and rolling back the sleeves of his tunic. "I have not seen my friend Oril for six years at least. He had extensive holdings in the Farizhald mines of Emyn Engrin, but neither he nor his sister ever married, so he has no close family other than his sister, whom he was not on friendly terms with anyhow. It may be several months before I manage to wade through the extended family infighting and actually execute his will as he wished."
A server approaches, a thick dwarf lad with a bushel beard and stained smock. "What can I do yeh for, sirs?" he barks, looking from one to the other. Frarin frowns for a moment. "Sausages and mashed potatos for me, Hni. And a side of that baked apple. And a beer."
Smoke pours from Mt. Doom as the Dark One's evil sorcery lags the game.
The smoke clears as good triumphs and the database saves.
[Ranol(#26812)] "Sure.. that sounds good. The same." Ranol says, an easy date it seems. He sets the coin on the table for the server to sort out, then considers Frarin's time away. "Good luck with that. Hopefully you'll get it sorted out quicker than that."
Another dwarf walks into the busy tavern, one that they should both recognize quickly enough. His straw colored hair and beard maybe be different, but the blue eyes and facial features leave little doubt that there was no straying by Ranol's mother. His father is who he is, and the huskarl can't deny the obvious resemblance.
Ranor first looks towards the tables where games of cards and dice are being played, but he notices Frarin almost immediately. The woodcarver slowly smiles, a twisted thing that looks like he intends to make trouble for the silversmith. But, as he approaches the table Ranor recognizes his son and it fades fast, a dark frown replacing the mirth.
[Frarin] "That is my hope as well," Frarin sighs heavily, shaking his head. He looks tired, as if the previous few days of readying to travel again and various confrontations with Thari's family have left him weary. He nods after the server disappears into the crowd and looks about to speak again as he looks back to Ranol, but as he turns, his eyes skim over the unmistakable figure of Ranor.
The silversmith frowns deeply, very abruptly, and his expression quite quickly changes to a scowl at the sight of the old woodcarver's twisted grin. He straightens, the palms of his hands pressing against the edge of the table in a defensive gesture. There is no ignoring the old dwarf, now approaching the table, but Frarin does not continue speaking, to either father or son.
[Ranol(#26812)] Ranor reaches the table just as his son turns and spots him, and the older dwarf claps a hand down on the huskarl's shoulder. "Of course you're friends with the Barazin that's causing your uncle so much grief. I should have suspected as much, -son-." He speaks the term of relation with some hostility, giving Frarin first-hand evidence that things are far from well between the two.
Ranol narrows his brow, his anger from earlier returning. He had intended to confront his father, but not in public. "Father.. we're having dinner. What brings you to the tavern? I thought you would be at home."
Gunnarr arrives from the Trader's Way (Hall of Grar).
Gunnarr has arrived.
[Frarin] Frarin frowns deeply at Ranor and draws a slow, deep breath, still pressing his palms against the edge of the table. His lips tighten at Ranor's clearly provocative words, but the silversmith actually says nothing in response. Certainly he looks as if he would very much like to, but he is completely silent, letting Ranol address his father first.
[Ranol(#26812)] Ranor strokes a hand through his beard, the scowl only deepening at the seemingly innocent question. He shifts his attention to Frarin, completely ignoring his son, now. "Why so speechless, Master Frarin?" There's little respect in his tone. "No invitation to join you in your meal?" He glances between the two, the smile slowly returning as he sees how angry both are. "At least I can chalk one up to youth.. " He murmurs, smirking.
[Gunnarr(#24380)]
Gunnarr comes down the tunnal way with a visable limp on crutches, though obviously well recovered from his horrific injuries and will soon have no reminder of them besides scars. The dwarf is in very good spirits having finnally been able to get out and about for the first time in almost a month. He comes to the door of the tavern and pushes it open. Gunnarr immediatly sees three...no two familiar faces. The third looks very much like Ranol and is obviously a relative. Gunnarr walks up to the table beaming. "Greetings friends!" He bows and glances at them. "May I join you?"
[Frarin] "No," Frarin mutters in blunt reply to Ranor's mock-offense at not having been invited to join them. The silversmith straightens, tipping his head slightly to the side and giving Ranor a dry, irritated look. Then, at the old gambler's smirk about youth, Frarin fixes Ranor with a level stare and rumbles, "Better angry in youth than foolish in age."
And before even Ranor or Ranol can say something, Frarin's expression changes dramatically, almost pointedly so. "Gunnarr! On your feet at last?" the silversmith greets, waving the injured warder towards the table. "Join us, please, we were just about to have dinner, Ranol and I." Absolutely no mention is made of the blond dwarf so alike to Ranol standing before the table.
Ranol looks over as Gunnarr approaches, a grim expression on his face. He tries to follow Frarin's lead, forcing a smile and nod for the clan-karl. "Good to see you up and about, Gunnarr." The huskarl stands, gesturing towards the relative standing next to him. "This is my father, Ranor, son of Dwanor. Father, this is Gunnarr, one of our clan-karls." Ranol's voice is strained, but he's trying to keep the entire situation peaceful.
Ranor is glaring at Frarin, but at the introduction he turns to look over Gunnarr. "Another to shine Braldor's boots.. " He murmurs just loudly enough to drift to those around the table.
[Gunnarr(#24380)] Gunnarr returns Ranor's comment with a smirk and says, "Ahh, Ranor, your reputation precedes you!" He gives Ranor an elaborate bow and sits down, motioning for to the barmanm "My usual, Hnikar dear friend! And perhaps a stout. I am in a celebretory mood today!" He grins at Frarin and Ranol, ignoring Ranor. "How have things been recently. I've been out and havn't heard much gossip."
[Frarin] A sidelong glance is given Ranor as Frarin continues to wave Gunnarr towards the table, a scowl in fact, and the silversmith looks about to say something when Gunnarr gives Ranor a greeting of his own. This earns a smirk from Frarin in turn, looking at the table as he almost seems to stifle a snort. "Indeed it does," he murmurs, still smirking at the table, though he glances up at Gunnarr across from him.
"Master Ranor, I believe your table is over there," Frarin says, motioning vaguely for the gaming tables further along the long hall. He still looks amused. Then he looks pointedly back at Gunnarr. "I am leaving soon actually, cousin. For the Iron Hills. Some business needs attending to there, I am afraid. But you are looking better, at least. The healers have finally let you escape then?"
Ranol is having a hard time remaining cheerful as his father's insult and Gunnarr's slight carry to him. Frarin may recognize the familiar expression on his face beginning to leak back from their conversation earlier about Ranor, his stress beginning to show again. The huskarl can't bring himself to poke fun at his own father. He stands silent, jaw clenched tightly.
The woodcarver doesn't seem to be suffering a similar condition of silence. He looks at the two, blond brows drawing together. "My reputation? My reputation.. " Ranor shakes his head, glancing over towards his son. He reached to wrap his arm around the huskarl's shoulders, then announces with a smile, "Tonight I buy a round of ale for all, in honor of my son's promotion to Huskarl of Bundazanul!"
And everyone likes a free drink. Ranor smiles graciously as a cheer goes round, leaning in to whisper something in his son's ear. Ranol smiles, but it's forced. His hand is clenching and unclenching slowly into a fist.
[Gunnarr(#24380)]
"Grudgingly yes, but I think they are satisfied that my chest isn't going to split open spontaniously anytime soon." Gunnarr looks slightly suprised at Frarin's news. "Really, I hope that you will have a good trip then. I have never traveled to the Iron Hills myself. Do you have family there?" He grins at Ranor's call for a round. "Don't mind me master Ranor. I'm just a licker of our thane's boots afterall." He takes his free mead and sips it. Leaving his stout for now.
Gunnarr says, "Grudgingly yes, but I think they are satisfied that my chest isn't going to split open spontaniously anytime soon." Gunnarr looks slightly suprised at Frarin's news. "Really, I hope that you will have a good trip then. I have never been in the Iron Hills since I was a wee dwarf myself. Do you have family there?" He grins at Ranor's call for a round. "Don't mind me master Ranor. I'm just a licker of our thane's boots afterall." He takes his free mead and sips it. Leaving his stout for now.
[Frarin] Frarin's frown returns as he glances at Ranol, grim lines of concern etching their way into the silversmith's face. "Sit down, cousin," he directs at Ranol, an order of sorts, but with concern in the tone as well. The server returns with Frarin's beer, which he takes, but when Hnikar attempts to deposit a free ale before Frarin as well, the merchant sets a few coins on the tray. "I'll pay for my own, thank you," he rumbles.
He is still watching Ranol, still flicking glares at Ranor, but he turns back to Gunnarr and nods. "Aye, I've family there. In Clan Farizhald mostly. But I leave because of a friend's death, killed in a mining accident, and he has left me the executor of his will. I imagine you shall be returned to perfect health by the time I am back, as will I hopefully," he says, rubbing ruefully at his shoulder, the muscles there still torn and weak. Though not weak enough, Ranor may recall, to leave a mark.
[Gunnarr(#24380)] "I am sorry for your loss, Frarin. I hope you will be able to return quickly enough." He looks at Ranol and frowns at his friend's stiffness. He hopes he has not offended him terribly by his sarcastic return of Ranor's comments. He sips his mead and returns to his food with deliberatly focused intrest.
[Ranol(#26812)] Ranor is grinning, calling out to his friends over at one of the card tables now to hold a place for him. When he looks back he sneers at Frarin for a moment, then gives Gunnarr a smooth smile. "Perhaps now my reputation won't be so tarnished." He flourishes a dramatic bow, then claps Ranol on the back once before moving away towards the back of the room.
The huskarl doesn't seem to hear Frarin at first, but after a moment he sits. "I'm sorry, Frarin.. Gunn.. " He murmurs, then tries to catch up with the conversation. "You were talking about the Iron Hills? Did Thari mention we grew up together out there?" Surely she has, but he missed most of what was said between the other two at the table.
[Frarin] "Not likely," Frarin growls very quietly, lifting his chin to look very levelly Ranor, almost challenging. Whether Ranor hears or not though, who can say, for soon Frarin is looking back to Gunnarr and Ranol. "Thank you, Gunnarr," he murmurs, sipping from his beer. To Ranol, a very brief, terse, "Don't be" is gruffly ordered before Frarin continues.
"Thari? No, she hasn't, though I am not surprised, as such close relations. I have a great many relations and acquaintances in the Iron Hills, for I was there until I was seventy-three. It is always a pleasure to return. You should visit sometime as well, Gunnarr, if Braldor will give you leave."
[Gunnarr(#24380)] Gunnarr grins. Much more amicable now that the older dwarf is gone. "I probably shall, there are a few relations of mine still there that a barely know. My mother keeps in touch with them though. For now though I am eager to get some orientation for my clan-karl duties." He grins at Ranol at these last words. Confident that he will be 100 percent healthy in a mere couple of days.
[Frarin] "Ah yes," Frarin nods, sipping his beer again. "Looking forward to that? Braldor can be a strict dwarf." A pause and a slight smirk. "But perhaps that is only my experience." One of the servers returns bearing Frarin and Ranol's dinners and the loaded plates are set before the two of them. Frarin glances behind him towards the gaming tables, scowling. But then turns back towards the other two.
[Gunnarr(#24380)]
"Yeah, I should be on my toes. Sure beats doing absolutly nothing though." Gunnarr finnishes up his food and now turns his attention to his long awaited stout. He sips the beer and gives a small contented noise of satisfaction and sets his tankard down on the table. Savoring the moment as long as he can. He then looks towards Ranol, "I should be ready for full duties in a couple of days as soon as I can get rid of these crutches." He gives a withering glance at the wooden supportive device he has been using.
[Frarin] "Don't count on it," Frarim rumbles, digging into his mashed potatos and stirring a thick gravy into them. "Duties, mayhap, but full duties I doubt much. You are yet in your prime, cousin, I should not like to see you permanently crippled by straining that chest wound before it it properly healed." He glances again at Ranol, but begins to cut up his sausages as if the unpleasant disturbance of Ranor had never happened. "Are you going to continue your service with the Baruk Zirak, Gunnarr? Or does your service as a karl become full time?"
[Gunnarr(#24380)] Gunnarr nods at Frarin's cautioning sentiment. "I shall be careful, but there are several bits of knowledge and instruction that I have to complete before I can take up any phisical duties." He continues to answer Frarin's question, "I had my discharge from the Baruk Zirak as soon as we got back to the Moutain. Clan-Karl is a full time comintment. Besides, your loyalty is supposed to be completly devoted to the Thane and Huskarl if you are to be in the personal guard."
Ranol is listening quietly, his gaze unfocused as he picks at his food, a faint scowl on his face. The huskarl occasionally glances over towards where his father went to play cards, obviously not paying full attention.
[Ranol(#26812)] Eventually Ranol realizes how much his mind is wandering and he focuses on Gunnarr. "We can go over some things tomorrow, but most will have to wait until you are back on your feet completely. Usually we train every morning, then rotate shifts, as it was on the caravan. Other duties depend on what the thane has planned for that day."
[Gunnarr(#24380)]
Gunnarr nods, "Yeah, I figured that would be the routine." He gazes around the room custemarally and sips his stout enjoying the flavor.
[Frarin] Frarin looks completely uninterested in observing Ranor anymore, for he picks idly at his food, glancing up every now and again as Ranol discusses the clan-karl duties with Gunnarr. But whatever his outside demeanor, the silversmith's mind is at least preoccupied with Ranol's clearly distracted manner. "Ranol," Frarin grumbles almost boredly when silence falls between the three. He is still looking at his plate. "Put your mind at ease, lad. There was hardly a scene made at all, and I don't much care for what your father has to say to me. Enjoy your meal, won't you."
[Ranol(#26812)] "Don't worry.. like I said before, we'll have you working doubles soon enough, Gunnarr." Ranol says, then looks to Frarin. "I know. I'm sorry.. I'm not terribly good company." He presses his lips together for a moment, then touches upon a new subject. "I'm at a loss about what to do with Siv. Do either of you know anything about her?" Normally he's not open to discussing such things, but it's a way to get his mind off his father.
[Gunnarr(#24380)] "Gunnarr looks up from his beer, "I don't really no anything, sorry. She is well-off I believe, though perhaps not terribly popular. My advice, though I have little to no experience myself in this matter. Is to just find out what you can about her and determine whether you can stand her or not. Passion in any marriage doesn't last forever anyway so my parents tell me." He sips his drink again. "She isn't the only choice out there either."
[Frarin] "Siv?" Frarin says, frowning. He shrugs. "Only what I saw of her in these last few years, but I have not talked with her a great deal." He lifts his brows at Gunnarr, then looks back to Ranol. "Ah, so the rumours are true? I had heard that Siv was being rather forward with you." He falls quiet again, spearing a bit of sausage on his fork. Likely Ranol can guess Frarin's position on the matter, but in case he cannot, the ever critical silversmith offers it willingly.
"I would sooner marry Eirdis than Siv, I think, cousin. At least Eirdis views it as more than a business arrangement. Not that I suggest you marry either, of course. You are yet young, you need not consider marriage so soon."
Ranol grins at Gunnarr's advice, looking between them. "Well, I think her forward manner is mostly the pressure from her father. Surprisingly, we want very similar things. There's one matter we don't see eye to eye on, which is rather large, but.." He shrugs, "She came to me the other night, concerned about the fact that everyone she's talked to worries of love and affection before marriage." He smiles faintly. "At least there isn't any guessing with Siv. Eirdis? I don't know. She's not for me. I would take Siv over Eirdis. We have more in common." Is he actually talking about all of this?
[Gunnarr(#24380)]
Gunnarr's brows rise at Ranol's words, "Hrrm, Eirdis will be disapointed terribly. She will get over it though. You've become a hot item since being promoted ehh!" He slaps the table the evenings libations taking their effect at last. He jerks his head around to the inn owner, "Oui, some water for me, if you please. I need to make it back home in one piece!"
Ranol pages: Hah.. that would look so bad.. "Oh yeah, Braldor.. I'm gonna go live with the barazin you hate!"
[Frarin] Frarin snorts into his mug of beer as Gunnarr teases Ranol about his promotion. The mug thumps back to the table as the silversmith shakes his head. "You are truly considering it? Durin, I thought if you married at all, cousin, that it would not be quite so business-like. Hot item indeed. There is no reason to marry either if you have no desire to. We are long-lived, we dwarves, could you spend the next hundred and fifty years with Siv at your side, do you think?"
Ranol flushes, growing embarrassed now at their teasing. He's beginning to relax finally, his smiles coming more easily as the tension recedes. "No, I suppose not. She's got her sights on another, now. She asked my advice." He offers a shrug and a grin at that. "I don't even begin to know what I want in a wife... Someone that understands me, I suppose." Siv tends to look at him as if he's speaking another language half the time.
The huskarl looks at Gunnarr, "Eirdis.. she hinted, but nothing ever came of it. I'm sure she'll find someone else."
[Gunnarr(#24380)] "Hrm, and who else is the poor soul that Siv be eyeing?" asks Gunnarr, wide eyed. The water is brought to him and he sips it slowly but very eagerly. He is going to have a terrible headache come morning.
[Frarin] Frarin's brows lift at Ranol, dubious about the news of Siv's 'new sight', but he nods approvingly at the huskarl's assertion about wanting someone who understands him. The mug of beer is finished off and Frarin pushes it away, pulling the tankard of ale towards him next. He nods at Gunnarr, looking curiously, and with a mildly bemused expression, to Ranol.
Ranol grins, pausing for dramatic effect as he takes an overly slow drink of his beer. Finally he answers in a soft tone, "Thane Ovor." The huskarl isn't rushing through his drinks. He doesn't seem to be looking to get drunk, and occasionally glances around the room.
[Gunnarr(#24380)] Gunnarr falls out of his chair, the water he was drinking splashes all over the floor as the young warder gets a very dirty look from the bar owner a staff. "Thane Ovar!" he whispers so nobody else could here. "Really, I guess she decided she needed to move up a level."
[Frarin] "Thane Ovor?" Frarin repeats, his mouth actually falling open and his fork pausing mid air. His reaction is not quite so dramatic as Gunnarr's fall from his chair, but for the stony silversmith, his hanging jaw is more than enough to convey his shock. "Of -Zinbar-? By the Maker!" He has lowered his voice, but his whisper is just as urgent. Then he begins to chuckle, leaning back and shaking his head with a small smile.
"By the Maker, by the Maker indeed. Well, she does aim high. By Durin, but he must be almost 150 by now. That is quite a difference in age." A snort and Frarin smiles with another shake of his head. "Not that I can say much on that front."
[Ranol(#26812)] "Siv is of Zinbar as well. One of the big deal-breakers for me, apparantly, was that I refused to leave Bundazanul." Ranol shrugs, his tone easy-going now. "Yes, she does aim high, but you never know. Ovor hasn't married and I hear that he might be looking. He was interested enough when she was making her business proposals to me."
[Gunnarr(#24380)] Gunnarr gets up to his feet with great difficulty still muttering his amazment at the news he has just heard
[Gunnarr(#24380)] Giving an apologetic look at the bar tender, Gunnarr finds his crutches and remains standing by the table. "That is an interesting piece of gossip there. We shall see how things pan out."
[Ranol(#26812)] "Don't repeat this!.. " Ranol says in a hurry, still grinning. "Well, at least not all of it. I don't need Ovor angry with me again." His gaze drifts away as he notices his father preparing to leave, a hint of relief on his face.
[Gunnarr(#24380)] Gunnarr suddenly remember's some of Ranol's last speech. He stares at Ranol with his jaw open. "Leave Bundazanul?! What was she thinking? She must be totally bonkers. You can't leave Bundazanul! Your Huskarl by the Maker! Ovor probably wouldn't admit you on principle because of that alone." He stares, completly dumbfounded. "That woman is NUTS!" He emphasizes the last word with a sharp hiss.
[Frarin] "Proud, perhaps, and with a keen business sense," Frarin mutters, still shaking his head in disbelief as he mops up the last of his mashed potatos and downs them with a swig of ale. "Well, that is good for a Thane's wife, I suppose. I shall say not a word!" He chuckles to himself, still shaking his head. He glances up at the two, following Ranol's gaze. "Let him go, cousin."
He scowls in thought for a moment, then looks back to Gunnarr. "Leaving us so soon, Gunnarr? Still, I suppose it does grow late. And I leave at first light tomorrow. Perhaps you are the wiser, cousin."
Ranol pages: are you looking to wrap it up?
Ranol nods a quiet response to Frarin, making no move to go and stop his father. He simply watches, some of that pensiveness returning. At Frarin's words to Gunnarr he looks over at the clan-karl. "Would you like assistance, or do you think you can manage with the crutches?"
[Gunnarr(#24380)]
"Oh, I can manage them well enough, thank you. I must return home before a pass out completly." The dwarf makes a small bow and turns and heads out the door.
[Frarin] "Good night, Gunnarr," Frarin nods after the warder as he leans back and pushes his empty plate away from him. He is silent a moment, but twists to look around his chair towards the gaming tables. The glance is brief though, for then Frarin is looking back to Ranol. "It is something to be grateful at least that he is leaving so soon. Less to lose," he mutters, crossing his arms contentedly over his chest.
Ranol equally wishes Gunnarr a good evening, figuring it's still early enough in the evening that the dwarf can get aid from the many that are still moving through the mountain if the clan-karl overestimated his abilities with the crutches.
Ranor leaves without much regard for his son or the Barazin, only glancing their way once. He's smiling as he departs, but his son is not. Frarin's words do not encourage Ranol very much.
"It could mean he's already lost it all." The huskarl says in a soft voice, setting down his fork finally. His own meal is half-eaten but he has little appetite left. "I'm sorry that you've gotten roped into all of this. I truly am."
[Frarin] "Don't be," Frarin says off-handedly, still with that bored tone as he leans back. His head even leans against the booth behind him and his eyes close, arms still crossed. "I am sure Ranor believes he can cause a great deal of trouble for me, but do not trouble yourself over it. I am used to dealing with trouble. And - I do not seek to sound offensive - but I am not much worried by what Balur may think of what your father reports to him. As for his jibes--" here Frarin opens his eyes and actually gives a smirking half-smile "--well, I am well used to them. Nay, do not trouble yourself, cousin."
Ranol resists the urge to offer more apologies, and nods instead. "So things haven't gone well with my uncle, then? Do you mind if I ask what he's said? It might help me when I go speak with him." No longer an 'if' for now Ranol will definitely be paying Balur a visit. It's the least he can do to make ammends for the trouble his father has caused.
[Frarin] Frarin frowns, looking at the table rather than at Ranol. After a moment of silence, he shrugs. "I do not know if it has gone well or not. Balur is a difficult dwarf to read, I suppose that is why he has been so successful." For a second it almost sounds as if Frarin will say no more than that, but he unfolds one arm and takes a swig from his ale again, then recrosses his arms.
"He has asked me all of the basic questions a father is of course required to ask. Concerning my income, and my reputation, and my age. But I am not sure whether he yet considers my answers adequate. Certainly we two differ on our opinions of how Thari should be treated."
Again he lapses into silence, eyes closing again, then opening abruptly as he stares at the table. "And this afternoon he sent Nalur to bring me to a discreet meeting. To discuss certain rumours about Thari and I."
[Ranol(#26812)] "I wish I knew Thari's family better, but it has been so long since I've spent time with any of them outside of specific occasions." Ranol picks up his beer mug and sips slowly, thoughtful. "If he's making the efforts to be discreet, he must considering it. Otherwise he wouldn't bother with speaking to you at all, don't you think? He would simply make opposing remarks to any that he heard speaking of such things and be done with it." As it grows later, the room is finally beginning to empty out, and Ranol is lowering his voice to accomodate.
[Frarin] "Hmm," Frarin hums musingly, eyes closing again. "Maybe so. Though I doubt." Again his eyes open and he gives Ranol a sarcastic look. "I think rather he was concerned about Thari's reputation rather than my 'case', as he calls it." He leans forward, taking a swig of his ale, then lowering his voice. "Surprise surprise, it seems there is the rumour going about that Thari and I are in fact lovers. Yes, well, I imagine you can guess Balur's cordiality concerning that."
Ranol grins at the rumor, "That was bound to happen. What is his biggest argument against you? If it's financial concerns, the ring you gave her alone should be enough to illustrate your dedication to his satisfaction." The huskarl sets the mug down as the serving lad heads over, and he beckons the young dwarf close. "Ask the tender to draw up the full tab for Ranor, would you? Tell him I'll settle as much of it as I'm able tonight." He requests in a quiet voice.
[Frarin] Frarin purses his lips in thought, but shakes his head after a moment. "I do not know if she has shown him the ring, or mentioned it even. She guards it closely." A heavy sigh and the silversmith is sipping from his ale again. It is nearly finished. "I know he is not over-fond of my age. Thari has told me of another dwarf much her senior who tried to coax her into marriage when she was much younger. Perhaps Balur fears another such situation."
"Mostly though, I think he may not approve of my character. Thari has--" there is a bit of an unhappy frown at this "--related some of my actions is the past few years and he seemed grateful, but if he respects anything else of my character, he has not said as much. Perhaps he expects me to shower Thari in gifts and praise and treat her as a rare treasure." He pauses, actually giving a faint smile to himself. "She is - a rare treasure, I mean - but I will never treat her as such. She would not let me, I think." Frarin seems quite content indeed, perhaps the two drinks have loosened his tongue.
[Ranol(#26812)] "I will tell him of my opinion on it all, if he will hear me. You two belong together and I'll do my best." The server returns with a folded piece of parchment, and Ranol takes it, glancing at it briefly. He reaches for his coin purse, handing the entire thing over to the lad and turns his attention back to Frarin. "I will send word if I succeed or fail.. either way I suggest bringing back a lavish gift. A little showering to impress her father couldn't hurt." He grins, shrugging.
[Frarin] Frarin purses his lips, flicking his eyes at Ranol, but then lowering them to the table again. "I do not do things merely to impress others," he says after a moment. But his accompanying shrug might perhaps suggest that he has in fact taken Ranol's advice on board. And with that he drains the last of his ale and lifts himself heavily to his feet. He looks faintly sluggish.
"A letter or two would be appreciated though, aye, Ranol. I will be at the residence of my cousin Bardoln son of Belndor, of Clan Farizhald. I fear, though, that I leave behind a situation of growing proportions." He sighs heavily and shakes his head. "But that cannot be helped. The dead do not wait. Good night, Ranol, and good fortune to you in the coming months." With a shallow bow, he collects his things and limps for the battered copper doors.
And by the first light of dawn, Frarin son of Forli will be gone from Erebor altogether.
[Ranol(#26812)] "Safe travels, cousin.." The huskarl responds, then takes time to finish off his suddenly very expensive drink. He spends the rest of the evening thinking about what he'll say to Balur, an interesting challenge in itself.
Underhalls, Tower of Thorin I (Zinbar Thingstead)(#7592RtAU)
The Great Hall of the Zinbar clan, fully three hundred yards across, and perfectly circular in its layout. Fourty three small arches lead out of here, spaced evenly at twenty two yards apart. One is the main exit to the southwest, the rest are personal holdings. From far above light pours in, shining greenish upon the walls during the day, and then a light blue in the moonlight by some trick of the minerals of the smooth carven walls.
Contents:
Ranol
Obvious exits:
Southwest leads to Greathall of Thrain II.
Double Bronze Doors (North) leads to Thane Zinbar's Chambers.
Long Tunnel (East) leads to Clan Zinbar Gate.
[Ranol(#26812)] Anyone seeking out the Huskarl of Bundazanul will have a difficult time tracking him down. It's only a clan-karl that knows where Ranol son of Ranor has gone to the tombs of Clan Zinbar. Why he has gone there is unknown beyond 'seeing to some business', but it was a couple of hours ago that he was seen leaving the Bundazanul chambers.
It's deep within the dark tunnels of the mountain where Ranol's grandfather, Kurn, lays in rest.There are few lamps lighting the way, and one could walk right by Ranol if they were not looking for him, for he has no personal lantern that he carries and the nearest source of light is at least a dozen paces away. Resting against the wall are his shield and sword, forgotten for the moment.
He's standing alone, head bowed with one hand pressed against the end of the stone coffin that's tucked into a recession in the tunnel wall. The expression on the huskarl's face is one of deep personal grief, a level of emotional depth that Ranol rarely shares with others. It seems out of place on the face of the normally mild-mannered dwarf, even in a tomb.
Clenched in his free hand is what looks to be several pages of parchment with sharp creases where they were folded. On the stone tunnel floor near his feet lays the remains of an envelope. The wax seal is broken and the paper shows discoloration where fingers disturbed heavy dust that had settled in the two years it sat undisturbed.
[Frarin] Far down the tunnel there is the sound of heavy footsteps. It is quite some distance off yet, but in the stillness of the long corridor, the echoes are unmistakable the footsteps come with a noticeable rhythm, as of one limping. And soon there is the faint golden glow of an approaching lantern. The steps grow closer.
[Ranol(#26812)] While there isn't a terrible amount of traffic in the halls of the dead, Ranol isn't pulled from his personal grief by the sound of one approaching. His eyes are closed and he's completely wrapped in his own thoughts, all the stress and troubles in his life plain upon his face.
[Frarin] Closer come the footsteps and the glow of the lantern until at last the pale goldenness alights upon the standing figure of Ranol. This brings the steps to a halt and the lantern, held at waist level, is brought up. It casts shadow all about its bearer's face, the red tunic worn as red as blood in the odd lighting, but it is unmistakably Frarin son of Forli who stands before the huskarl. He is silent, face wooden as he stands still some way from Ranol, but he does clear his throat after a moment.
Ranol looks up at the sound, his blue eyes looking green in the yellow light of the lantern. "Frarin.." There's confusion at first, since he hadn't expected anyone to come find him here, least of all Frarin. Then his confusion is replaced in a flash of fear, "Is something wrong?!"
[Frarin] Frarin nods at Ranol, but with the huskarl's flash of fear, his brows knit together suddenly and he shakes his head, frowning. "What? No," he rumbles, speaking quietly so as to keep the echoes from bouncing too greatly in the long tunnel. "No, nothing wrong." At least with him, says his tone, for despite that declaration he is still looking at Ranol, that prying curiosity quite familiar for him playing across Frarin's expression. There is a hint of concern also.
Ranol calms, the sudden panic fading. He begins carefully folding up the letter in his hand, almost reverantly. "This is my grandfather's tomb." He explains in a quiet voice, then asks, "Why are you here? Are you visiting someone?" That would be quite the coincidence, since it's Zinbar's crypt and niether of them hail from the clan directly.
[Frarin] Frarin nods at Ranol's explanation, his eyes going to the tomb and then the letter that the huskarl folds up, but he says nothing about either as yet. "No," he says gruffly, shaking his head. "I came only seeking you out, I have no kin in Zinbar." Again Frarin glances at the tomb as he falls into silence, but abruptly his eyes catch something and he rumbles, faintly surprised, "He died while we were gone?"
[Ranol(#26812)] "Aye.. he was old. I suspected as much when the trip grew longer than anticipated." Ranol leans down to pick up the envelope, shaking it free of dust and tucking the letter back inside. As the moments pass he pushes away the stress and concerns, tucking his emotions away for later. "What do you need? I haven't seen you since we've gotten back. Are things well?"
[Frarin] Frarin is quiet as Ranol answers him, though he does frown and mutters, "I am sorry." At the huskarl's questions, however, Frarin's frown deepens and his lips press together. After a moment, he briefly lowers his eyes and shakes his head. "They could be better," he rumbles. There seems to be a great many thoughts behind those words, spoken low and slowly.
Straightening again, he clears his throat. "I am going away for a time, to the Iron Hills. An old friend of mine has been recently killed in a mining accident and left me the executor of his will. But I wished to give you my farewell before departing, and...to apologise as well, I think."
Ranol slowly folds the envelope in half and slides it into a pocket, listening carefully. "You have my condolences, for your friend." He says softly, frowning as well. Yet, when Frarin mentions an apology the huskarl seems confused again. "Apologize for what? Is Thari going with you? As good friends as we've become, I'm sure I can manage without her for a time.." He says with a small smile, trying to lighten the somber mood, despite the location and his own clinging grief.
[Frarin] Frarin's lips part very slightly, betraying a hint of surprise at Ranol's question, but then he shakes his head. "Thari? No, no I have asked Thari to stay here. Her family has been...less than warm with me and I thought it best for her to show them her continued loyalty to them as well. Though I am not sure what effect my leaving may have on her father Balur."
He purses his lips, unsure whether to explain the real reason for his apology now. Or at least unsure how to phrase his explanation. With a frown, he speaks, but there is a wariness in his tone. "Have you...spoken with your father of late?"
Ranol nods quietly, moving now to pick up his shield and swordbelt. "I'm sorry. Maybe I can go speak to my uncle.. " There is a hint of doubt in his voice since he knows how Balur can be. As he straps on the sword once more he give Frarin a wary glance. "My father?" There's a significant pause, then he answers with an edge to his voice. "We are not on speaking terms right now. Why?"
[Frarin] Frarin gives a gentle breath as if the need for the wariness in his tone were confirmed. He clears his throat, looking at Ranol with head tipped forward and brows lifted. "I met your father, Ranol, two days ago. He came to the home of my cousin Formin - my home also when I am at Erebor - or rather, he followed Thari there." There is an unpleasant pause as Frarin seems to grapple with how to continue in as politically correct a way as possible. "It was not a...cordial meeting."
[Ranol(#26812)] The silence of the tomb is is only broken by the sounds of Ranol's breathing for .. almost ten breaths. He blinks once or twice, his brow creased as he fights an internal struggle, then finally asks, "What happened?"
[Frarin] That is a very long silence, here deep in the stilled heart of Erebor, but Frarin stubbornly does not break it until Ranol responds. "Thari's visit was not strictly prohibited by her father," he rumbles, once the huskarl has spoken. "But I am sure Balur would not have approved. Be that as it may...when your--Ranor--" he abruptly switches to using Ranor's proper name, rather than naming him merely as Ranol's father "--insisted that he had a duty to return Thari to her father, well, rash words were exchanged. I, at least, did not feel anyone had the right to return Thari anywhere."
Another pregnant pause, with Frarin frowning now more deeply than before. He gives Ranol that same appraising look, head tipped forward. Oddly though, there is not the usual critical challenge in the silversmith's gaze. "Ranor...spoke...offensively in the end. I thought you would have heard of this incident by now." Another pause, then, "I struck him."
[Ranol(#26812)] Ranol runs a hand through his hair, listening with a troubled expression on his face that is a paler version of the stress he displayed earlier, when Frarin first approached. "You hit my father?" He asks, looking displeased. "What did he say to make you lose your temper in such a way?" The huskarl saw the bruise on Ranor's face, last evening, but didn't inquire about it then. Now he understands.
[Frarin] "Ranol," Frarin says gruffly, very slightly defensively, but only -very- slightly. "I know your father has not always done best by you, but he is still your father and I would prefer not to repeat his words. They concerned Thari and I did not feel any dwarf should be spoken of in such a manner, much less Thari. I will not apologise to Ranor, but he is your father and you are a friend, so I wished at least to apologise to you. I was not aware you had not even heard of the incident."
Ranol says, "Frarin. Please. Tell me what he said. I'm not judging your decision, but I want to understand the situation." Ranol's voice has a raw edge to it, the strain of keeping his own growing feelings in check. The huskarl looks as if his return home has brought anything but happiness.
[Frarin] The silversmith is silent a long time. Still frowning, he keeps his gaze level with Ranol's, a tumble of conflicting thoughts going on behind his eyes. He looks still reluctant to share the father's words with the son, but also as if he understands Ranol's desire to know and agrees with it. The latter feeling wins in the end. Very quietly, as if the emptiness of the tunnel might be eavesdropping, Frarin answers the huskarl. "He warned me against stealing tarts from Balur's kitchen."
Ranol draws in a slow breath, nodding slowly as he takes in the words. "Do you know why he was following Thari?" The huskarl seems calm, but there's an anger burning in his gaze now. They may not be on speaking terms now but that situation looks as if it may change very shortly.
[Frarin] Frarin is frowning unhappily, especially with that look in Ranol's eyes so clearly evident, even in the pale light of the lantern. "I do not know why he was following her. He said that he saw her entering the Barazin Thingstead. Our attachment, as I am increasingly learning, is being observed by not a few others. I don't doubt Ranor had heard of it and was...curious about her coming to Barazin."
Ranol turns his gaze away now, trying to collect his thoughts and keep the pot that's been boiling for days from bubbling over. He looks back towards the tomb of his grandfather, as if the lifeless stone will somehow give him an answer to his problems. "I'm sorry, Frarin. He had no business interfering. I'll speak with him." His tone is still calm, but that underlying edge hasn't faded, and when Ranol looks back at Frarin there's shame in his eyes. "The words he said.. I'm sure they were only intended to provoke you."
[Frarin] Frarin takes a very slow breath, face grim with sudden thoughts at Ranol's words. Provoke? Yes certainly, and for more than personal delight. But the silversmith does not say that. Indeed, although his expression might betray a great many feelings about Ranol's comment about provocation, Frarin makes no comment on that specifically.
"I was not looking for an apology, Ranol. It is not your responsibility, nor your shame. I wanted only to apologise to you, for losing my temper. Do not even speak with him on the subject, if it will only bring more strife between you - that was not my intention. What is done is done, and it was a matter between Ranor and myself."
Ranol quickly shakes his head. "Someone has to take responsibility for him. He's disrespecting himself and everyone around him over petty, vindictive.. If I stand by and do nothing, I will be throwing away three years of my life without a fight!" The huskarl grimaces as he realizes he just said more than he meant to. He lowers his voice again, "Don't apologize for defending Thari."
[Frarin] "I am not apologising for defending Thari," Frarin says firmly, quite decided in that. "Thus why I am apologising to you and not him." He quiet a moment longer, but it is not long before the silversmith says gruffly, "You would not be throwing aside three years of your life, even if you stand by and do nothing, cousin. These past three years may have started as a repayment of your father's debts, Ranol, but you know that is no longer the case. You are Huskarl of Bundazanul. Remember that."
[Ranol(#26812)] "Debts.. " Ranol laughs now, the nervous kind that holds no joy or amusement. "It was -a- debt.. but debts is an accurate word now." He runs his hands through his hair again, closing his eyes for a moment to calm his frazzled nerves. He takes a slow breath, glancing at the tomb again, stone cold and emotionless. "How is Thari? Is she upset?" Ranol sounds more at peace now, his aggravation easing as he focuses outside the immediate problem.
[Frarin] "Thari is fine," Frarin says gruffly, lips pursing. "She was more pleased with my defensiveness, I think, than upset at her uncle's words. She..." He breaks off, thoughtful, then sighs and shakes his head. "I would ask you to look after her while I am gone. I do not know yet if Balur will give his blessing, and that indecision may wear on her, especially with my absence."
[Ranol(#26812)] "Of course.. " Ranol says with a nod, "And I may go speak with my Uncle Balur." He says with a small furrow to his brows, "If I do I will lend what support I can, for the both of you." The huskarl glances around, noticing their location for conversation for what it is now, "Are you in a terrible hurry to depart, or do you have time to grab some dinner, cousin?"
[Frarin] Frarin nods appreciatively at Ranol's offer to speak with Balur, for once not immediately denying help from someone else in relation to his own affairs. "I will not deny that I would be grateful. Balur wants me to plead my own case, but...I am not overmuch fond of revealing my own affairs to others, or gloating about myself. Nor do I have any wish to treat this as a business deal, and myself as the best buyer." There is a tinge of bitterness at that, but then Frarin is nodding again. "Aye, I have not yet supped for the evening. I leave early tomorrow morning with my brother, and I have set everything in order for our departure already."
Ranol grins finally, the first show of good humor since the conversation began. "Ah, but that is the language of my uncle, and ... I'm sure he is only testing your resolve under such a guise. I'll answer his questions as honestly as I may, if he'll speak with me about it." The dwarf slings his shield to his back, then hesitates with another long look towards the tombs of his ancestors. "Could I have just a moment more, please? I'll catch up with you at the entrance."
[Frarin] Frarin nods silently without argument and lowers his lantern to his waist again. He turns and soon only the glow of his lantern and the thump of his limping walk drift back to Ranol. And before long, even that ceases. The stillness returns.
Ranol returns to stand at the tomb. It's the final resting place of the dwarf that was more a father to him than his own ever was, and maybe only now is he finally realizing that. It feels a betrayal, but did Ranor not betray everything his son did in return? The rift between them grows larger every day, but Ranol still harbors hope that they might find a way to reconcile some way or another. After a time he finally moves on to catch up to Frarin.
Dragon's Breath Tavern(#8227RtMU)
This is a large, rounded, brightly lit hall full of loud and boisterous dwarves. On each side of the main walkway are cushioned seats, tables of finely carved stone, games of skill to play and even some games to bet on. The cream colored walls add a soft accent to the room. The hall's most prominent feature is the bar, along the back wall, behind which a variety of jars, bottles, and casks are lined, guarded by the barkeeper during business hours. Above the bar hangs a sign that declares: "NORIN of Bundazanul, Proprietor" and beneath that, "Libations home-brewed, never imported!"
Contents:
Ranol
Hnikar(#24703XM)
Obvious exits:
Battered Copper Door (Out) leads to Trader's Way (Hall of Grar).
Back Door leads to Underhalls, Tower of Thorin I (Zinbar Thingstead).
[Frarin] It is already well into the evening and the Dragon's Breath Tavern is more than busy. Noise and more noise echoes all around the long, wide hall of booths and tables. A great many of the tavern's patrons are taking their supper still, but many have graduated to mugs of ale and beer and games of cards or darts or dice.
The battered copper door is pushed inward, gleaming in the bright light of the tavern. Frarin steps in, pulling at his beard looking down the long room. After a moment, he glances behind him to Ranol, then heads for a nearby empty table.
Ranol follows, and when he sees the crowd he begins to wish he had stopped home first to shuck off his armor and fighting gear. It's the sort of thing people notice and the least he wants right now is to be noticed. Still, other than a few glances and whispers that get lost in the noise, it's not as bad as the huskarl fears. He takes a seat, pulling some coins free in anticipation of ordering. "So, how long do you think you'll be gone?"
[Frarin] "I'm not sure," Frarin rumbles, taking a seat himself and rolling back the sleeves of his tunic. "I have not seen my friend Oril for six years at least. He had extensive holdings in the Farizhald mines of Emyn Engrin, but neither he nor his sister ever married, so he has no close family other than his sister, whom he was not on friendly terms with anyhow. It may be several months before I manage to wade through the extended family infighting and actually execute his will as he wished."
A server approaches, a thick dwarf lad with a bushel beard and stained smock. "What can I do yeh for, sirs?" he barks, looking from one to the other. Frarin frowns for a moment. "Sausages and mashed potatos for me, Hni. And a side of that baked apple. And a beer."
Smoke pours from Mt. Doom as the Dark One's evil sorcery lags the game.
The smoke clears as good triumphs and the database saves.
[Ranol(#26812)] "Sure.. that sounds good. The same." Ranol says, an easy date it seems. He sets the coin on the table for the server to sort out, then considers Frarin's time away. "Good luck with that. Hopefully you'll get it sorted out quicker than that."
Another dwarf walks into the busy tavern, one that they should both recognize quickly enough. His straw colored hair and beard maybe be different, but the blue eyes and facial features leave little doubt that there was no straying by Ranol's mother. His father is who he is, and the huskarl can't deny the obvious resemblance.
Ranor first looks towards the tables where games of cards and dice are being played, but he notices Frarin almost immediately. The woodcarver slowly smiles, a twisted thing that looks like he intends to make trouble for the silversmith. But, as he approaches the table Ranor recognizes his son and it fades fast, a dark frown replacing the mirth.
[Frarin] "That is my hope as well," Frarin sighs heavily, shaking his head. He looks tired, as if the previous few days of readying to travel again and various confrontations with Thari's family have left him weary. He nods after the server disappears into the crowd and looks about to speak again as he looks back to Ranol, but as he turns, his eyes skim over the unmistakable figure of Ranor.
The silversmith frowns deeply, very abruptly, and his expression quite quickly changes to a scowl at the sight of the old woodcarver's twisted grin. He straightens, the palms of his hands pressing against the edge of the table in a defensive gesture. There is no ignoring the old dwarf, now approaching the table, but Frarin does not continue speaking, to either father or son.
[Ranol(#26812)] Ranor reaches the table just as his son turns and spots him, and the older dwarf claps a hand down on the huskarl's shoulder. "Of course you're friends with the Barazin that's causing your uncle so much grief. I should have suspected as much, -son-." He speaks the term of relation with some hostility, giving Frarin first-hand evidence that things are far from well between the two.
Ranol narrows his brow, his anger from earlier returning. He had intended to confront his father, but not in public. "Father.. we're having dinner. What brings you to the tavern? I thought you would be at home."
Gunnarr arrives from the Trader's Way (Hall of Grar).
Gunnarr has arrived.
[Frarin] Frarin frowns deeply at Ranor and draws a slow, deep breath, still pressing his palms against the edge of the table. His lips tighten at Ranor's clearly provocative words, but the silversmith actually says nothing in response. Certainly he looks as if he would very much like to, but he is completely silent, letting Ranol address his father first.
[Ranol(#26812)] Ranor strokes a hand through his beard, the scowl only deepening at the seemingly innocent question. He shifts his attention to Frarin, completely ignoring his son, now. "Why so speechless, Master Frarin?" There's little respect in his tone. "No invitation to join you in your meal?" He glances between the two, the smile slowly returning as he sees how angry both are. "At least I can chalk one up to youth.. " He murmurs, smirking.
[Gunnarr(#24380)]
Gunnarr comes down the tunnal way with a visable limp on crutches, though obviously well recovered from his horrific injuries and will soon have no reminder of them besides scars. The dwarf is in very good spirits having finnally been able to get out and about for the first time in almost a month. He comes to the door of the tavern and pushes it open. Gunnarr immediatly sees three...no two familiar faces. The third looks very much like Ranol and is obviously a relative. Gunnarr walks up to the table beaming. "Greetings friends!" He bows and glances at them. "May I join you?"
[Frarin] "No," Frarin mutters in blunt reply to Ranor's mock-offense at not having been invited to join them. The silversmith straightens, tipping his head slightly to the side and giving Ranor a dry, irritated look. Then, at the old gambler's smirk about youth, Frarin fixes Ranor with a level stare and rumbles, "Better angry in youth than foolish in age."
And before even Ranor or Ranol can say something, Frarin's expression changes dramatically, almost pointedly so. "Gunnarr! On your feet at last?" the silversmith greets, waving the injured warder towards the table. "Join us, please, we were just about to have dinner, Ranol and I." Absolutely no mention is made of the blond dwarf so alike to Ranol standing before the table.
Ranol looks over as Gunnarr approaches, a grim expression on his face. He tries to follow Frarin's lead, forcing a smile and nod for the clan-karl. "Good to see you up and about, Gunnarr." The huskarl stands, gesturing towards the relative standing next to him. "This is my father, Ranor, son of Dwanor. Father, this is Gunnarr, one of our clan-karls." Ranol's voice is strained, but he's trying to keep the entire situation peaceful.
Ranor is glaring at Frarin, but at the introduction he turns to look over Gunnarr. "Another to shine Braldor's boots.. " He murmurs just loudly enough to drift to those around the table.
[Gunnarr(#24380)] Gunnarr returns Ranor's comment with a smirk and says, "Ahh, Ranor, your reputation precedes you!" He gives Ranor an elaborate bow and sits down, motioning for to the barmanm "My usual, Hnikar dear friend! And perhaps a stout. I am in a celebretory mood today!" He grins at Frarin and Ranol, ignoring Ranor. "How have things been recently. I've been out and havn't heard much gossip."
[Frarin] A sidelong glance is given Ranor as Frarin continues to wave Gunnarr towards the table, a scowl in fact, and the silversmith looks about to say something when Gunnarr gives Ranor a greeting of his own. This earns a smirk from Frarin in turn, looking at the table as he almost seems to stifle a snort. "Indeed it does," he murmurs, still smirking at the table, though he glances up at Gunnarr across from him.
"Master Ranor, I believe your table is over there," Frarin says, motioning vaguely for the gaming tables further along the long hall. He still looks amused. Then he looks pointedly back at Gunnarr. "I am leaving soon actually, cousin. For the Iron Hills. Some business needs attending to there, I am afraid. But you are looking better, at least. The healers have finally let you escape then?"
Ranol is having a hard time remaining cheerful as his father's insult and Gunnarr's slight carry to him. Frarin may recognize the familiar expression on his face beginning to leak back from their conversation earlier about Ranor, his stress beginning to show again. The huskarl can't bring himself to poke fun at his own father. He stands silent, jaw clenched tightly.
The woodcarver doesn't seem to be suffering a similar condition of silence. He looks at the two, blond brows drawing together. "My reputation? My reputation.. " Ranor shakes his head, glancing over towards his son. He reached to wrap his arm around the huskarl's shoulders, then announces with a smile, "Tonight I buy a round of ale for all, in honor of my son's promotion to Huskarl of Bundazanul!"
And everyone likes a free drink. Ranor smiles graciously as a cheer goes round, leaning in to whisper something in his son's ear. Ranol smiles, but it's forced. His hand is clenching and unclenching slowly into a fist.
[Gunnarr(#24380)]
"Grudgingly yes, but I think they are satisfied that my chest isn't going to split open spontaniously anytime soon." Gunnarr looks slightly suprised at Frarin's news. "Really, I hope that you will have a good trip then. I have never traveled to the Iron Hills myself. Do you have family there?" He grins at Ranor's call for a round. "Don't mind me master Ranor. I'm just a licker of our thane's boots afterall." He takes his free mead and sips it. Leaving his stout for now.
Gunnarr says, "Grudgingly yes, but I think they are satisfied that my chest isn't going to split open spontaniously anytime soon." Gunnarr looks slightly suprised at Frarin's news. "Really, I hope that you will have a good trip then. I have never been in the Iron Hills since I was a wee dwarf myself. Do you have family there?" He grins at Ranor's call for a round. "Don't mind me master Ranor. I'm just a licker of our thane's boots afterall." He takes his free mead and sips it. Leaving his stout for now.
[Frarin] Frarin's frown returns as he glances at Ranol, grim lines of concern etching their way into the silversmith's face. "Sit down, cousin," he directs at Ranol, an order of sorts, but with concern in the tone as well. The server returns with Frarin's beer, which he takes, but when Hnikar attempts to deposit a free ale before Frarin as well, the merchant sets a few coins on the tray. "I'll pay for my own, thank you," he rumbles.
He is still watching Ranol, still flicking glares at Ranor, but he turns back to Gunnarr and nods. "Aye, I've family there. In Clan Farizhald mostly. But I leave because of a friend's death, killed in a mining accident, and he has left me the executor of his will. I imagine you shall be returned to perfect health by the time I am back, as will I hopefully," he says, rubbing ruefully at his shoulder, the muscles there still torn and weak. Though not weak enough, Ranor may recall, to leave a mark.
[Gunnarr(#24380)] "I am sorry for your loss, Frarin. I hope you will be able to return quickly enough." He looks at Ranol and frowns at his friend's stiffness. He hopes he has not offended him terribly by his sarcastic return of Ranor's comments. He sips his mead and returns to his food with deliberatly focused intrest.
[Ranol(#26812)] Ranor is grinning, calling out to his friends over at one of the card tables now to hold a place for him. When he looks back he sneers at Frarin for a moment, then gives Gunnarr a smooth smile. "Perhaps now my reputation won't be so tarnished." He flourishes a dramatic bow, then claps Ranol on the back once before moving away towards the back of the room.
The huskarl doesn't seem to hear Frarin at first, but after a moment he sits. "I'm sorry, Frarin.. Gunn.. " He murmurs, then tries to catch up with the conversation. "You were talking about the Iron Hills? Did Thari mention we grew up together out there?" Surely she has, but he missed most of what was said between the other two at the table.
[Frarin] "Not likely," Frarin growls very quietly, lifting his chin to look very levelly Ranor, almost challenging. Whether Ranor hears or not though, who can say, for soon Frarin is looking back to Gunnarr and Ranol. "Thank you, Gunnarr," he murmurs, sipping from his beer. To Ranol, a very brief, terse, "Don't be" is gruffly ordered before Frarin continues.
"Thari? No, she hasn't, though I am not surprised, as such close relations. I have a great many relations and acquaintances in the Iron Hills, for I was there until I was seventy-three. It is always a pleasure to return. You should visit sometime as well, Gunnarr, if Braldor will give you leave."
[Gunnarr(#24380)] Gunnarr grins. Much more amicable now that the older dwarf is gone. "I probably shall, there are a few relations of mine still there that a barely know. My mother keeps in touch with them though. For now though I am eager to get some orientation for my clan-karl duties." He grins at Ranol at these last words. Confident that he will be 100 percent healthy in a mere couple of days.
[Frarin] "Ah yes," Frarin nods, sipping his beer again. "Looking forward to that? Braldor can be a strict dwarf." A pause and a slight smirk. "But perhaps that is only my experience." One of the servers returns bearing Frarin and Ranol's dinners and the loaded plates are set before the two of them. Frarin glances behind him towards the gaming tables, scowling. But then turns back towards the other two.
[Gunnarr(#24380)]
"Yeah, I should be on my toes. Sure beats doing absolutly nothing though." Gunnarr finnishes up his food and now turns his attention to his long awaited stout. He sips the beer and gives a small contented noise of satisfaction and sets his tankard down on the table. Savoring the moment as long as he can. He then looks towards Ranol, "I should be ready for full duties in a couple of days as soon as I can get rid of these crutches." He gives a withering glance at the wooden supportive device he has been using.
[Frarin] "Don't count on it," Frarim rumbles, digging into his mashed potatos and stirring a thick gravy into them. "Duties, mayhap, but full duties I doubt much. You are yet in your prime, cousin, I should not like to see you permanently crippled by straining that chest wound before it it properly healed." He glances again at Ranol, but begins to cut up his sausages as if the unpleasant disturbance of Ranor had never happened. "Are you going to continue your service with the Baruk Zirak, Gunnarr? Or does your service as a karl become full time?"
[Gunnarr(#24380)] Gunnarr nods at Frarin's cautioning sentiment. "I shall be careful, but there are several bits of knowledge and instruction that I have to complete before I can take up any phisical duties." He continues to answer Frarin's question, "I had my discharge from the Baruk Zirak as soon as we got back to the Moutain. Clan-Karl is a full time comintment. Besides, your loyalty is supposed to be completly devoted to the Thane and Huskarl if you are to be in the personal guard."
Ranol is listening quietly, his gaze unfocused as he picks at his food, a faint scowl on his face. The huskarl occasionally glances over towards where his father went to play cards, obviously not paying full attention.
[Ranol(#26812)] Eventually Ranol realizes how much his mind is wandering and he focuses on Gunnarr. "We can go over some things tomorrow, but most will have to wait until you are back on your feet completely. Usually we train every morning, then rotate shifts, as it was on the caravan. Other duties depend on what the thane has planned for that day."
[Gunnarr(#24380)]
Gunnarr nods, "Yeah, I figured that would be the routine." He gazes around the room custemarally and sips his stout enjoying the flavor.
[Frarin] Frarin looks completely uninterested in observing Ranor anymore, for he picks idly at his food, glancing up every now and again as Ranol discusses the clan-karl duties with Gunnarr. But whatever his outside demeanor, the silversmith's mind is at least preoccupied with Ranol's clearly distracted manner. "Ranol," Frarin grumbles almost boredly when silence falls between the three. He is still looking at his plate. "Put your mind at ease, lad. There was hardly a scene made at all, and I don't much care for what your father has to say to me. Enjoy your meal, won't you."
[Ranol(#26812)] "Don't worry.. like I said before, we'll have you working doubles soon enough, Gunnarr." Ranol says, then looks to Frarin. "I know. I'm sorry.. I'm not terribly good company." He presses his lips together for a moment, then touches upon a new subject. "I'm at a loss about what to do with Siv. Do either of you know anything about her?" Normally he's not open to discussing such things, but it's a way to get his mind off his father.
[Gunnarr(#24380)] "Gunnarr looks up from his beer, "I don't really no anything, sorry. She is well-off I believe, though perhaps not terribly popular. My advice, though I have little to no experience myself in this matter. Is to just find out what you can about her and determine whether you can stand her or not. Passion in any marriage doesn't last forever anyway so my parents tell me." He sips his drink again. "She isn't the only choice out there either."
[Frarin] "Siv?" Frarin says, frowning. He shrugs. "Only what I saw of her in these last few years, but I have not talked with her a great deal." He lifts his brows at Gunnarr, then looks back to Ranol. "Ah, so the rumours are true? I had heard that Siv was being rather forward with you." He falls quiet again, spearing a bit of sausage on his fork. Likely Ranol can guess Frarin's position on the matter, but in case he cannot, the ever critical silversmith offers it willingly.
"I would sooner marry Eirdis than Siv, I think, cousin. At least Eirdis views it as more than a business arrangement. Not that I suggest you marry either, of course. You are yet young, you need not consider marriage so soon."
Ranol grins at Gunnarr's advice, looking between them. "Well, I think her forward manner is mostly the pressure from her father. Surprisingly, we want very similar things. There's one matter we don't see eye to eye on, which is rather large, but.." He shrugs, "She came to me the other night, concerned about the fact that everyone she's talked to worries of love and affection before marriage." He smiles faintly. "At least there isn't any guessing with Siv. Eirdis? I don't know. She's not for me. I would take Siv over Eirdis. We have more in common." Is he actually talking about all of this?
[Gunnarr(#24380)]
Gunnarr's brows rise at Ranol's words, "Hrrm, Eirdis will be disapointed terribly. She will get over it though. You've become a hot item since being promoted ehh!" He slaps the table the evenings libations taking their effect at last. He jerks his head around to the inn owner, "Oui, some water for me, if you please. I need to make it back home in one piece!"
Ranol pages: Hah.. that would look so bad.. "Oh yeah, Braldor.. I'm gonna go live with the barazin you hate!"
[Frarin] Frarin snorts into his mug of beer as Gunnarr teases Ranol about his promotion. The mug thumps back to the table as the silversmith shakes his head. "You are truly considering it? Durin, I thought if you married at all, cousin, that it would not be quite so business-like. Hot item indeed. There is no reason to marry either if you have no desire to. We are long-lived, we dwarves, could you spend the next hundred and fifty years with Siv at your side, do you think?"
Ranol flushes, growing embarrassed now at their teasing. He's beginning to relax finally, his smiles coming more easily as the tension recedes. "No, I suppose not. She's got her sights on another, now. She asked my advice." He offers a shrug and a grin at that. "I don't even begin to know what I want in a wife... Someone that understands me, I suppose." Siv tends to look at him as if he's speaking another language half the time.
The huskarl looks at Gunnarr, "Eirdis.. she hinted, but nothing ever came of it. I'm sure she'll find someone else."
[Gunnarr(#24380)] "Hrm, and who else is the poor soul that Siv be eyeing?" asks Gunnarr, wide eyed. The water is brought to him and he sips it slowly but very eagerly. He is going to have a terrible headache come morning.
[Frarin] Frarin's brows lift at Ranol, dubious about the news of Siv's 'new sight', but he nods approvingly at the huskarl's assertion about wanting someone who understands him. The mug of beer is finished off and Frarin pushes it away, pulling the tankard of ale towards him next. He nods at Gunnarr, looking curiously, and with a mildly bemused expression, to Ranol.
Ranol grins, pausing for dramatic effect as he takes an overly slow drink of his beer. Finally he answers in a soft tone, "Thane Ovor." The huskarl isn't rushing through his drinks. He doesn't seem to be looking to get drunk, and occasionally glances around the room.
[Gunnarr(#24380)] Gunnarr falls out of his chair, the water he was drinking splashes all over the floor as the young warder gets a very dirty look from the bar owner a staff. "Thane Ovar!" he whispers so nobody else could here. "Really, I guess she decided she needed to move up a level."
[Frarin] "Thane Ovor?" Frarin repeats, his mouth actually falling open and his fork pausing mid air. His reaction is not quite so dramatic as Gunnarr's fall from his chair, but for the stony silversmith, his hanging jaw is more than enough to convey his shock. "Of -Zinbar-? By the Maker!" He has lowered his voice, but his whisper is just as urgent. Then he begins to chuckle, leaning back and shaking his head with a small smile.
"By the Maker, by the Maker indeed. Well, she does aim high. By Durin, but he must be almost 150 by now. That is quite a difference in age." A snort and Frarin smiles with another shake of his head. "Not that I can say much on that front."
[Ranol(#26812)] "Siv is of Zinbar as well. One of the big deal-breakers for me, apparantly, was that I refused to leave Bundazanul." Ranol shrugs, his tone easy-going now. "Yes, she does aim high, but you never know. Ovor hasn't married and I hear that he might be looking. He was interested enough when she was making her business proposals to me."
[Gunnarr(#24380)] Gunnarr gets up to his feet with great difficulty still muttering his amazment at the news he has just heard
[Gunnarr(#24380)] Giving an apologetic look at the bar tender, Gunnarr finds his crutches and remains standing by the table. "That is an interesting piece of gossip there. We shall see how things pan out."
[Ranol(#26812)] "Don't repeat this!.. " Ranol says in a hurry, still grinning. "Well, at least not all of it. I don't need Ovor angry with me again." His gaze drifts away as he notices his father preparing to leave, a hint of relief on his face.
[Gunnarr(#24380)] Gunnarr suddenly remember's some of Ranol's last speech. He stares at Ranol with his jaw open. "Leave Bundazanul?! What was she thinking? She must be totally bonkers. You can't leave Bundazanul! Your Huskarl by the Maker! Ovor probably wouldn't admit you on principle because of that alone." He stares, completly dumbfounded. "That woman is NUTS!" He emphasizes the last word with a sharp hiss.
[Frarin] "Proud, perhaps, and with a keen business sense," Frarin mutters, still shaking his head in disbelief as he mops up the last of his mashed potatos and downs them with a swig of ale. "Well, that is good for a Thane's wife, I suppose. I shall say not a word!" He chuckles to himself, still shaking his head. He glances up at the two, following Ranol's gaze. "Let him go, cousin."
He scowls in thought for a moment, then looks back to Gunnarr. "Leaving us so soon, Gunnarr? Still, I suppose it does grow late. And I leave at first light tomorrow. Perhaps you are the wiser, cousin."
Ranol pages: are you looking to wrap it up?
Ranol nods a quiet response to Frarin, making no move to go and stop his father. He simply watches, some of that pensiveness returning. At Frarin's words to Gunnarr he looks over at the clan-karl. "Would you like assistance, or do you think you can manage with the crutches?"
[Gunnarr(#24380)]
"Oh, I can manage them well enough, thank you. I must return home before a pass out completly." The dwarf makes a small bow and turns and heads out the door.
[Frarin] "Good night, Gunnarr," Frarin nods after the warder as he leans back and pushes his empty plate away from him. He is silent a moment, but twists to look around his chair towards the gaming tables. The glance is brief though, for then Frarin is looking back to Ranol. "It is something to be grateful at least that he is leaving so soon. Less to lose," he mutters, crossing his arms contentedly over his chest.
Ranol equally wishes Gunnarr a good evening, figuring it's still early enough in the evening that the dwarf can get aid from the many that are still moving through the mountain if the clan-karl overestimated his abilities with the crutches.
Ranor leaves without much regard for his son or the Barazin, only glancing their way once. He's smiling as he departs, but his son is not. Frarin's words do not encourage Ranol very much.
"It could mean he's already lost it all." The huskarl says in a soft voice, setting down his fork finally. His own meal is half-eaten but he has little appetite left. "I'm sorry that you've gotten roped into all of this. I truly am."
[Frarin] "Don't be," Frarin says off-handedly, still with that bored tone as he leans back. His head even leans against the booth behind him and his eyes close, arms still crossed. "I am sure Ranor believes he can cause a great deal of trouble for me, but do not trouble yourself over it. I am used to dealing with trouble. And - I do not seek to sound offensive - but I am not much worried by what Balur may think of what your father reports to him. As for his jibes--" here Frarin opens his eyes and actually gives a smirking half-smile "--well, I am well used to them. Nay, do not trouble yourself, cousin."
Ranol resists the urge to offer more apologies, and nods instead. "So things haven't gone well with my uncle, then? Do you mind if I ask what he's said? It might help me when I go speak with him." No longer an 'if' for now Ranol will definitely be paying Balur a visit. It's the least he can do to make ammends for the trouble his father has caused.
[Frarin] Frarin frowns, looking at the table rather than at Ranol. After a moment of silence, he shrugs. "I do not know if it has gone well or not. Balur is a difficult dwarf to read, I suppose that is why he has been so successful." For a second it almost sounds as if Frarin will say no more than that, but he unfolds one arm and takes a swig from his ale again, then recrosses his arms.
"He has asked me all of the basic questions a father is of course required to ask. Concerning my income, and my reputation, and my age. But I am not sure whether he yet considers my answers adequate. Certainly we two differ on our opinions of how Thari should be treated."
Again he lapses into silence, eyes closing again, then opening abruptly as he stares at the table. "And this afternoon he sent Nalur to bring me to a discreet meeting. To discuss certain rumours about Thari and I."
[Ranol(#26812)] "I wish I knew Thari's family better, but it has been so long since I've spent time with any of them outside of specific occasions." Ranol picks up his beer mug and sips slowly, thoughtful. "If he's making the efforts to be discreet, he must considering it. Otherwise he wouldn't bother with speaking to you at all, don't you think? He would simply make opposing remarks to any that he heard speaking of such things and be done with it." As it grows later, the room is finally beginning to empty out, and Ranol is lowering his voice to accomodate.
[Frarin] "Hmm," Frarin hums musingly, eyes closing again. "Maybe so. Though I doubt." Again his eyes open and he gives Ranol a sarcastic look. "I think rather he was concerned about Thari's reputation rather than my 'case', as he calls it." He leans forward, taking a swig of his ale, then lowering his voice. "Surprise surprise, it seems there is the rumour going about that Thari and I are in fact lovers. Yes, well, I imagine you can guess Balur's cordiality concerning that."
Ranol grins at the rumor, "That was bound to happen. What is his biggest argument against you? If it's financial concerns, the ring you gave her alone should be enough to illustrate your dedication to his satisfaction." The huskarl sets the mug down as the serving lad heads over, and he beckons the young dwarf close. "Ask the tender to draw up the full tab for Ranor, would you? Tell him I'll settle as much of it as I'm able tonight." He requests in a quiet voice.
[Frarin] Frarin purses his lips in thought, but shakes his head after a moment. "I do not know if she has shown him the ring, or mentioned it even. She guards it closely." A heavy sigh and the silversmith is sipping from his ale again. It is nearly finished. "I know he is not over-fond of my age. Thari has told me of another dwarf much her senior who tried to coax her into marriage when she was much younger. Perhaps Balur fears another such situation."
"Mostly though, I think he may not approve of my character. Thari has--" there is a bit of an unhappy frown at this "--related some of my actions is the past few years and he seemed grateful, but if he respects anything else of my character, he has not said as much. Perhaps he expects me to shower Thari in gifts and praise and treat her as a rare treasure." He pauses, actually giving a faint smile to himself. "She is - a rare treasure, I mean - but I will never treat her as such. She would not let me, I think." Frarin seems quite content indeed, perhaps the two drinks have loosened his tongue.
[Ranol(#26812)] "I will tell him of my opinion on it all, if he will hear me. You two belong together and I'll do my best." The server returns with a folded piece of parchment, and Ranol takes it, glancing at it briefly. He reaches for his coin purse, handing the entire thing over to the lad and turns his attention back to Frarin. "I will send word if I succeed or fail.. either way I suggest bringing back a lavish gift. A little showering to impress her father couldn't hurt." He grins, shrugging.
[Frarin] Frarin purses his lips, flicking his eyes at Ranol, but then lowering them to the table again. "I do not do things merely to impress others," he says after a moment. But his accompanying shrug might perhaps suggest that he has in fact taken Ranol's advice on board. And with that he drains the last of his ale and lifts himself heavily to his feet. He looks faintly sluggish.
"A letter or two would be appreciated though, aye, Ranol. I will be at the residence of my cousin Bardoln son of Belndor, of Clan Farizhald. I fear, though, that I leave behind a situation of growing proportions." He sighs heavily and shakes his head. "But that cannot be helped. The dead do not wait. Good night, Ranol, and good fortune to you in the coming months." With a shallow bow, he collects his things and limps for the battered copper doors.
And by the first light of dawn, Frarin son of Forli will be gone from Erebor altogether.
[Ranol(#26812)] "Safe travels, cousin.." The huskarl responds, then takes time to finish off his suddenly very expensive drink. He spends the rest of the evening thinking about what he'll say to Balur, an interesting challenge in itself.
Players: Ranol, Frarin, Gunnarr, Ranor
Located in: Erebor
