05 12 2008 Soot shovels and flying tackles

Real time: Mon May 12 07:25:22 2008 Bree time: Mid Afternoon <16:16:06> on Sunday of Winter - January 1,1444 Moon Phase: Full Moon Breelands Weather The mid afternoon winter air is cold and dry around you. The murky sky is overcast and dreary. Parlour A cheery fire crackles in a stone hearth at the eastern end of this small parlour. A few low and comfortable chairs sit around the fire, covered with a light brown and green checked material. Standing in the centre of the room is a small table with a few chairs set around it, a crisp white cloth laid over the top of it. In the middle of the table rests a large silver handbell, set on a platter in between two tall candlesticks. Sunlight streams into the parlour from the long window on the northern wall of the parlour. Contents: Thari Keldean Obvious exits: Out Keldean is studiously shoveling ash out of the hearth (which is NOT cheery or crackling at the moment). The boy is covered in soot up to his elbows, with a bit of a darker cast to his face and hair as well from the messy task. There's a small metal bucket that the ash is carefully poured into, a lesson learned earlier when he made his job worse in another room by dumping the black dust. The resulting cloud that settled all over everything was a small disaster and the boy was not too happy about having to clean that mess up on top of his first task. [Frarin] The doorknob of the sole entrance to the parlour rattles in its socket before the door swings open a small ways to admit one of the inn's patrons. And, perhaps rather unfortunately for the lad cleaning the hearth, it is none other than Frarin the Dwarf. His eyes are down as he enters the room, focused on stuffing a thumbful of pipeweed into the bowl of a long pipe he holds. He wears neither cloak nor war hammer within the Pony itself, though there is a leather bag slung over one shoulder and a folded length of parchment stuck under an arm. The silver merchant is not humming or whistling or giving any other indication of coming to the parlour merely to enjoy the afternoon, but neither does he appear to be conducting a frustrated search anymore. He glances up absently as he closes the parlour door behind him with a foot, but his casual expression soon falls away as he spots Keldean. He does not look angry necessary, but taken off guard perhaps. His brows knit together and his lips part in surprise. Keldean twists his head back to see who's come into the parlour, his words already beginning to leave his lips, "I'm cleaning in here, you can't use-.. " His expression of annoyance that was born from the day assigned to clearing out ash quickly dissolves into one that's very near fear. Frarin. The dwarf is considered for a brief moment and then Kel's brown eyes are rapidly searching the room for another exit, his mind racing. [Frarin] Frarin presses his lips together and his teeth clench for a minute, but still he does not look angry. One boot thumps again against the door behind him, checking to make sure it is in fact shut, and the dwarf's eyes go also to the solitary parlour window. But he takes the folded parchment from beneath his arm and holds out both hands with palms outward towards Keldean, as if attempting not to scare a wild animal. "Ho whoa," he rumbles, not moving towards the youth. "Whoa, there's no need to be darting again, lad." Adelaide enters the small parlour from the hallway. Adelaide has arrived. Keldean very much resembles a trapped animal at the moment, his eyes wide with fear as he stares at Frarin, still kneeling in front of the hearth all covered in ash and grit. He subconsiously tightens his grip on the small shovel he's been using, white knuckles a sharp contrast to the black soot. The windows are all locked up for the winter, and he's not sure he could get one open before the dwarf got to him. He can't help but despair, wondering if anyone will find his bones after Frarin murders him and stuffs his body into the fireplace. He swallows, struck silent by his mental imagery. [Adelaide(#31844)] The door to the parlour opens a crack, the glint of old steel gleaming in the scant light. Adelaide steps into the room, a sword in her right hand. She narrows her eyes at the two figures, her lip curling menacingly. "Away from the lad, if'n y'please. Don't want to fight yer, whomever y'are, but I will if y'make me." Braldor enters the small parlour from the hallway. Braldor has arrived. [Frarin] "Now listen, lad," Frarin says, still holding up his hands to try and calm Keldean. He takes a step towards the youth. "I don't want to hurt you. And I don't want to interrogate you. Just calm down a moment, you don't need to running off again." Another step towards the lad as Frarin gently tucks his unlit pipe into his tunic breast. "I just want to clear some things up, hear? You've been hearing things and coming to the wrong--" The wrong what, though? Who knows, for at that moment a rather casually threatening voice comes from behind the dwarf. With knitted brows and a deep frown, Frarin glances over his shoulder and his eyes widen suddenly in disbelief. A woman with a sword? In Bree? "Whoa now," he says suddenly, turning away from Keldean towards the greater threat. He holds his hands up to the woman. "Easy there, lass. Easy now. Put that blade away, you've no idea what happening here." He takes a step back, still holding up his hands, though unwittingly coming closer to Keldean behind him. Keldean is frozen in place as Frarin advances on him, his mind still jumbled with all the different things he's heard, he's seen, and stories that all conflict with one another. The dwarf looks downright scary as he approaches, that low voice like the thunder just before the storm arrives. Adelaide enters and Kel spares a quick glance for the door. A sword?! Who has a sword here in Bree? Her words sound threatening, but not in his direction. When Frarin turns away Keldean slowly shifts to stand, his fingers still tight around the small iron shovel, his entire body tight as he feels the heavy tension in the air. Adelaide wrinkles her nose. "All I know's what this looks like, and until I'm satisfied that nobody was intended to be scared witless or harmed, I'll keep my sword, thankee very much." She straightens up to her full height, looking menacing. "Kel, come stand by me until we have this resolved, please." [Frarin] Menacing, well. Frarin too straightens to his full height, which admittedly is still a full foot shorter than the woman standing in the doorway. But he bristles at her, likely appearing rather menacing himself, even devoid of a weapon. He no longer holds his hands up innocently, but shakes a finger at Adelaide, brow furrowed. "And you draw blade on every suspicious person you meet, do you?" the dwarf growls. "Put it away, lass," he says, almost disdainfully, snorting angrily. "You are no better than this lad if you go around believing every rumour in this town. I am not going to hurt anyone, hear? Put that toy away before you hurt someone." [Keldean(#23332)] Stand by her? She murdered her husband! Justified or not, she's still a killer. She's holding a sword (something he's never actually seen outside of the antique category) and Keldean has a certain amount of self-preservation to consider. It suddenly dawns on the boy that he's trapped in a room with -two- murderers now. His hand trembles as fear tries to cripple him, but he doesn't drop the makeshift weapon. He knows he should be acting more a man and less a child, but all he can see are the angry expressions that the dwarves had yesterday and he begins slowly backing towards the window in the corner. [Braldor(#30149)] "What is this?", comes a voice from the door, commanding and grave. "I didn't know that breefolk threatened visitors with weapons... this is an outrage!" The issuer of such statements is no other than Braldor, Thane Bundazanul, and as richly clad as he usually is, he seems now a bit threatening. Dark eyes flash dangerously, and his brow is furrowed. "I would recommend ye put away that blade, missy, 'ere I call the Guard on ye", he adds, as he gazes at Adelaide with stony eyes. Adelaide deflates a bit, snarling as she sheathes her blade in the rawhide scabbard at her belt. "I'm no better than me well-dead husband if'n I were t'use it.. N'er intended to, anyhow." She mutters something in some foreign language under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest. "M'sorry I reacted th'way I did, wasn't called fer." [Frarin] At the sound of the Thane's commanding voice, Frarin noticeably tenses, eyes narrowing. But then Adelaide is sheathing her sword and the silver merchant drops his wary hands, glaring at the woman. "Seems I can't even roam the Pony without having a blade drawn at me," he grumbles, frowning sharply. "When will your folk learn to sift through false rumours, lass?" He fair growls the last, glancing at Braldor but saying nothing to the Thane for moment. Instead, Frarin takes the easing of tension to glance behind him towards Keldean and thus realises with a shock that the lad is edging towards the window. Exasperated, Frarin tosses his hands into the air and starts towards the youth once again. "Will you stay put, lad? You're like a bloody rabbit, you are. You've got things wrong and I'm getting blades pointed at me because of it." [Keldean(#23332)] It's a nightmare! Now that other dwarf thane is stomping into the room and Keldean is looking absolutely terrified. Maybe if Adelaide hadn't walked in with that sword drawn.. maybe if Kel wasn't feeling so horribly cornered, he would be calmer right now. Frarin approaches him in frustration, but the youth only sees the scowl and frightening dwarven visage bearing down on him. Without even thinking he locks his second hand onto the handle of the shovel and swings it at the dwarf while yelling, "Stay away from me!!" Adelaide has disconnected. [Braldor(#30149)] "Well, aplogies accepted, miss", comes braldor's reply, his voice now a bit softer... which is to say, the tone no longer can grind stones. As keldean moves to strike Frarin, the Thane gives a loud cry, and lunges forward, trying to catch the youth's arm before damage is done. [Frarin] Frarin is not so much angry as fed up as he comes towards Keldean. He is not even reaching for the youth's collar this time, merely attempting to calm him down and refrain from charging for the window. Alas, how miserably he fails. Lad though he may be, Keldean's work at the Pony - hauling wood, shovelling fire ashes - has not failed to give the teen some muscle. Add to this the fact that Frarin is thoroughly not expecting such a cornered-animal reaction from Keldean and the lad's swing strikes true. "Hoh!" Frarin cries in surprise, turning his head away from the lad and sticking out his left hand to protect himself. But Keldean is roughly the silver merchant's height and the squared corner of the shovel catches Frarin at the base of his neck. "What the hell do you think you're doing!" shouts Frarin, shocked and irritated as his hand goes to the shallow gash on his neck that stained his tunic collar. The merchant grabs at the shovel, trying to take it from Keldean. Keldean immediately lets go of the shovel as Frarin grabs for it, shocked at the sight of the blood welling at the dwarfs neck. His face goes white and he backs away. "I'm sorry. I'm -really- sorry!" He says, panic in his voice, the words shaky. He never meant to hurt the dwarf, he just wanted to get away from him. "Please don't kill me.. please.." The boy is obviously unsettled, and his brown eyes jet between the thane and Frarin rapidly. [Braldor(#30149)] At the sight of Frarin's blood, Braldor growls, a deep-throated, quite angry sound... and then the Thane does somethig that he hasn't done in quite some time. He takes a step or two more towards the young breeman, and then he lunges into a flying tackle! I tell you, if anyone from the NFL saw this tackle, Braldor would be signing a quite nice contract tomorrow! But alas!, there is nothing like the NFL or even football here in Middle Earth; yet the lunge is quite magnificent indeed. [Frarin] The deep gash bleeds quickly, welling between the fingers of Frarin's left hand as he holds the wound, but his free hand is successful is yanking the shovel away from Keldean, which he does so with an annoyed glare at the youth, gritting his teeth. Braldor's reaction, however, is rather unexpected, it would seem. Frarin opens his mouth as if to angrily scold the youth, even as he tosses the shovel to a corner of the parlour with a clang. But then the Thane is flying by - indeed, quite literally, for his feet are no longer on the ground, but streaming out magnificently behind him. Frarin gives a cry and lunges, but not for Keldean. Rather, the silver merchant dives for Braldor. It is nothing quite so spectacular as the Thane's flying tackle, for Frarin's feet stay quite firmly planted on the ground and his left hand still clutches his bleeding neck, but Frarin's nevertheless reaches for the back of Braldor's rich garb. There is little hope, granted, of catching the dwarf lord before he pins Keldean, but perhaps Frarin hopes to pull Braldor off the youth before too much damage is done. [Keldean(#23332)] Maybe a small part of him was convinced that Frarin really wasn't going to kill him. Braldor seems to have no such reservations. Keldean only manages a very unmanly shriek and throws his arms up defensively before the dwarf crashes into him. The boy is driven to the floor, his breath blasted out of his lungs under the weight and impact. Almost immediately the teen reacts defensively, futilely punching and clawing at the dwarf atop him in a reflexive attempt to get free. He's too worked up to feel any pain.. yet. [Braldor(#30149)] The Thane has managed, it seems, to knock down the young man, and he tries frantically to avoid the young man's punches and clawing. "Now ye be still, and no harm will come to ye, I swear!", he says, amid Keldean's punches and fingers. "Ye have made me cousin bleed, don't ye see? Be still now, and I shall let ye go... else I shall call for the guard!", he adds. Logfile from Elendor. "Oh for Durin's sake!" Frarin growls, grabbing the back of the Thane's tunic and hauling on Braldor in an attempt to pull him off the pinned Keldean. "Harm's already coming to him, my lord! Get off, the both of you stay your struggling!" Frarin drops his blood-stained left hand from his neck so as to both haul on Braldor and attempt to deflect Keldean's wild attacks. The wound had left now a dark stain in the merchant's collar, spreading downward from his collar bone. "It's my blood, for pity's sake, and hardly deep enough to attack the lad over! Stop!" [Keldean(#23332)] In his wild flailing Keldean's foot connects with the half-filled bucket from the hearth and a sudden cloud of ash fills the immediate area. The boy stops fighting and begins coughing, trying to twist free of Braldor's weight so he can at the very least sit up. Once again a situation has gotten wildly out of control, but Kel has suffered for it. He can feel pain as he coughs, possibly some bruised ribs from the tackle of the dwarf. [Braldor(#30149)] "Alright! Alright!", says Braldor, as he begins to stand... and then Keldean manages to send a cloud of ash to cover them all! The thane just starts couging after getting a mouthful, and he goes to a side of the room, where he can cough comfortably... if such a thing exists. [Frarin] Frarin sputters as Keldean's foot sends a black cloud spewing about the enclosed parlour and he releases Braldor so as to wave both hands in front of his face and clear the dirty mess from his vision. "By. The. Maker." Growling as he rubs the black soot from his eyes and face, Frarin coughs and wipes the dust from his tunic. As the air clears somewhat, he points an accusing finger at both Keldean and Braldor. "Let it be, the both of you. If this isn't attacking Breelanders, then I don't know what is. And you," he says, rounding on the lad and levelling his irritated gaze at him. "Attacking guests now, mm? Where do you come off swinging shovels at folks in the bloody Prancing Pony?" A hand is replaced over the gash and Frarin grimaces somewhat at the ash that has mixed with the wound. "I /said/ I wasn't going to harm you. Get that into your bloody head, lad. I am not a murder, have never been one, and will certainly not begin today, tempted though I may be!" Keldean coughs violently for a few moments, struggling to clear his lungs. Frarin's words sink in and Keldean has to look at the facts for what they are. The dwarf hasn't actually hurt him despite ample opportunity. The youth rubs his chest where an ache is beginning, his lean frame recovering from the crushing weight of Braldor landing on him. The boy slowly stands, blinking repeatedly to work some soot from his vision. "I think my ribs are broken.." He says in a weak voice. If that were truly the case he probably wouldn't be standing or breathing as well as he is. [Frarin] Frarin continues to wave his right hand in the air before him as the ash and soot settles. He unloops the leather bag about his shoulder and, diligently ignoring Keldean, throws it onto a nearby chair. With one hand he flips the bag open and begins rustling through it until he brings forth a square of cloth, usually used for padding his war hammer during spars. He pulls forth a second cloth, this one much longer and blotchy with old stains, as if repeatedly used as a bandage in the past. The square cloth is placed over the gash in his neck and the long strip used to tie it into place. As he works, Frarin glances at Keldean as the youth's aches and pains begin to set in. He gives an unsympathetic grunt. "Broken? Not likely, lad, else you'd not be standing. And tisn't like you don't deserve exactly what you got." But he frowns slightly less harshly as he ties off his own temporary bandage and begins to wipe his bloody left hand clean. "Go on then, sit down," he waves at a chair. "Or get you to the healers if you don't want a murderer dwarf looking at you and would rather explain how you've been hitting guests at the inn with soot shovels." Keldean moves slowly over to a chair and sits down, ash and soot sprinkling to the floor around him. It's all over, in his clothes, his hair, on the furniture and in the air.. What a mess. His fear is easing as he calms down, the pain considerably tempering his nerves. "I'm sorry.." He says again, brown eyes glancing up at the bloody wound he inflicted on the dwarf. "I.. I didn't mean to hurt you." [Frarin] The silver merchant fingers the makeshift bandage about his neck, then gives a grunt of apparent satisfaction. That done, he comes towards Keldean, not angrily or suddenly, but certainly without the careful attention to keeping the youth from spooking that he moved with before. His lips are a thin, unhappy line, but his brows at least part as he shakes his head. "You will likely never have to march to war, lad," Frarin says gruffly, kneeling in front of Keldean. "But any time you choose to wield something as a weapon, your foremost thought ought to be that it is a weapon and nothing else. And weapons are used solely for the purpose of inflicting harm. Remember it. Now come on, lift your arms, let's see what the Thane's managed to do to you." Keldean nods quietly, far more like the quiet, shy teen he was when Frarin first met him, before this whole mess began. He has an expression of guilt and misery on his face, still trying to figure out what possessed him to hit the dwarf with the shovel in the first place. Fear and panic are an unpleasant combination. He gingerly lifts his arms, not certain what Frarin is going to do but going along with what he's being told. If he tries to run again he might be in for another tackle. "I don't understand.. why are you so angry at the Thane?" He asks in a soft voice, barely above a whisper. [Frarin] As the teen raises his arms, Frarin does not even stop to explain what he is doing or ask Keldean's permission to do so. The dwarf's rough fingertips abruptly begin prodding the sides of Keldean's ribcage, fully aware of what pain they will likely cause. He is not gentle as he does so, but nor is he unduly harsh. Rather, it is the inspection of a experienced campaigner, but that of an experienced healer. "Go on, where's it hurt?" Frarin asks gruffly, though he glances over his shoulder at Braldor. "I am angry with the Thane with he tackled a human boy," he mutters beneath his breath, giving no further explanation, as if that were the extent of Frarin's feud with Braldor. [Braldor(#30149)] Braldor finishes couging after a long while. "Oh, ye're quite welcome, Master Frarin. I shall remember your graciousness to me when I tried to stop someone from attacking ye", he says, as he gazes at the Silver Merchant. "As my presence here is no longer required nor wanted", he adds, his voice acquiring a haughty tone, "I shall leave ye to attend yer matters." And with that the Thane Bundazanul turns on his heels and leaves whence he came, and soon the sound of his heavy footsteps is lost. Keldean doesn't buy that explanation, but he doesn't have time to argue as Frarin jabs painfully at ribs that are very sore from the unexpected strain of Braldor's impact. He hisses sharply several times, barely containing outcries as pain stabs through his chest. The boy is skinny under the loose clothes, any extra fat worked into lean muscle over the weeks of hard labor. He flinches sharply as one poke proves worse than the others, a reflex reaction. "Ow!" The thane leaving catches his attention, and he twists around to watch. Oh, you really made a mess Kel.. The dwarves may never forgive you. [Frarin] Frarin glances over his shoulder as Braldor leaves the room and the silver merchant makes some attempt at civility, casting a nod after the Thane. As he turns back to Keldean, however, he mutters to himself, though loud enough for the youth to hear. "Stop someone from attacking me. A /teenager/ attacking me." The words are grumbled disdainfully, but there is also a touch of pride in his voice as well. Then Keldean gives a cry of pain and Frarin nods, as if his suspicions had been confirmed. "You've got a bruised rib," he says, standing and rubbing his hands together. "A couple, I would say. Get up to the Healing House and have them bind your ribs. Tell them you fell or some such--" he gives Keldean a pointed look "--and I'll say the same for myself." Keldean listens quietly to Frarin's gripes, frowning. At the instructions to go to the Healing House the teen hesitates, lowering his arms slowly and tenatively feeling the injured area, his face tightening at the continued pain. "What will happen if I don't?" He asks, not sure why he's suddenly trusting the dwarf, but Frarin seems to know what he's talking about. [Frarin] "What happens if you don't?" Frarin repeats, giving Keldean a dark look as he shoves things back into his bag. "If you don't, then someone is going to find out that you swung a shovel at a dwarf. Now I'll grant you that we're not well thought of by many here in Bree - me least of all thanks to your recent revelations - but there's enough folk round here with sense enough to realise either what we dwarves have done this past summer for this town or take note of the fact that we at least pay good money to stay here. And those people won't be too happy to see some raggedy lad striking guests at the Pony." "Master Barliman or that hobbit Nob won't look favourably on you, that's for sure. And you'll be sent off home, which, given your recent accomodation at the inn, I'm willing to wager you'd rather not be. That's what will happen." Keldean stares at him in alarm, his mouth opening in surprise. "I meant.. if I don't go see a healer.." He explains, swallowing nervously. He lifts his arm to wipe his nose, black soot tickling his sinuses. "I'll tell people that I was wrong. Really, I will!" He adds, thinking he better try to appease Frarin before he's out on the street without a place to stay. The thought of going back home sends a painful shudder through him. His father will tan his hide if he goes home now. [Frarin] Frarin pauses as he repacks his bag, glancing up at Keldean as the youth clarifies. "Oh," he says simply with a short sigh. He flips the bag shut, but leaves it upon the chair, instead retrieving his pipe from his tunic. Giving a shrug, the silver merchant frowns. "I don't know. No lasting damage would come of it, but even a bruised rib can be painful for a few weeks. And more than one is doubly bad. You bind it to help with the pain, especially since I doubt your duties here at the inn will allow you time for rest, which is what the healers will inevitably prescribe." Keldean frowns, his gaze dropping to the floor. How can a bruise take weeks to heal? He pulls a leg up onto the chair, wrapping his arms around it carefully as he pulls his knee to his sore chest. "I don't want to go back home." He says softly as he imagines the anger on his father's face. The man is far from mean, but Keldean has never gotten along well with him. "Do you think the Thane will say anything?" [Frarin] Frarin eyes Keldean with a reproachful look, pressing his lips together and setting his hands on his hips. "I do not know," he answers the youth gruffly, crossing his arms across his chest now. "It is likely he will speak of it to others in our company, but not perhaps to Breelanders. There is already tension between the dwarves and the town, and I am not so sure he does not think your fear of me well placed." The last comment is more an internal thought spoken aloud, for Frarin shakes his head and does not elaborate. "Now, you're not running and I'm hardly attacking. Are you convinced yet that what you overheard, you misinterpreted?" Keldean is quiet, his eyes still studying the ash-coated floor. At least he's taking the time to seriously think it all over now. "I guess it makes more sense now. Is there really a treasure? Why are you always sneaking around with that other dwarf?" He can't stop the questions from rolling out. The teen's curiosity knows no limits. In the back of his mind that muttered comment about the Thane is set aside to ask about later. [Frarin] At long last, Frarin seems to relax somewhat. His brow slowly unfurrows and his shoulders fall back and, though he is far from smiling, his frown does at least lighten up some. He pulls a chair towards him and seats himself not far from Keldean. "Well then, there is hope for you yet," he says dryly. "Thari is my friend, lad. A very good friend and I do not keep many. And of those that I do keep, many have been lost in the past year. As for sneaking around, in all the tales you have heard about dwarves, have you heard nothing of our guarded nature? Simply because we do not wish to disclose our affairs willingly does not mean there is something ill afoot. Would you so easily reveal you reason for not wanting to go home, hm?" His drops his gaze for a brief moment, adding in a wooden voice, "And yes, there is a treasure." Nothing more is said on that front. Keldean says, "I don't know that many tales about dwarves.." He admits, chewing on his lip. The bruises on his ribs are aching now, a hot pain from the enflamed tissue around them. "I don't want to go home because my father will be really mad.. and he'll never let me leave again." He feels he owes Frarin something after all the trouble. It's such a simple reason, but it rings of truth more strongly than most of what the boy says. He fingers the fabric of his pantleg. "I don't want to be a farmer and that's all he ever planned for me."" [Frarin] Frarin falls silent at the teen's confession, tapping the the pipeweed still sitting in the bowl of his pipe. "And what do you want to be then, mm?" he says gruffly, concentrating on lighting a short stick from one of the lamps in the parlour. He brings the fresh flame to the bowl of his pipe and soon a lazy, sweet-scented smoke is drifting away from it. "There naught much beyond being a farmer in these parts, lad, unless you work at the Pony the rest of your life. And if you're scared of a couple of dwarves, the rest of the world isn't likely to please you much either." [Keldean(#23332)] "I'm not scared of the dwarves, and I -do- want to see the rest of the world. I mean, working here isn't so bad, but.. " He sighs, not able to express the desire he has to get out and do more than tend to firewood and hauling water. "I wanted to be a singer, and travel. I mean, you always hear tales from singers that travel around and see everything. It sounds fun, and exciting!" He rather suddenly shifts tracks, "Why are you worried that the Thane wants people to think badly of you?" [Frarin] The barest hint of a smile works its way into Frarin's face, present more in his eyes than anywhere as Keldean talks about becoming a travelling bard. The silver merchant rubs ruefully at the bandage on his neck, which already has a small stain coming through, and he absently takes a pull on his pipe. And as Keldean talks about the fun and excitement of the road, Frarin opens his mouth as if to comment on the lad's perception of the experience of travelling. He does get the chance to, however, for Keldean abruptly changes the subject, bringing afresh a suspicious scowl to Frarin's face. "Why do you say that?" he asks, pulling the stem of his pipe from his lips. "Those were not my words. Thane Braldor would not try to persuade others to think badly of me. Unless he thought badly of me himself." [Keldean(#23332)] "I.. you said.. that he might not disagree with my fear.. " That scowl has the teen on his guard again. He runs a hand through his hair nervously, ash sprinkling down softly to his shoulders and the floor. His hair looks a muddy brown now, the auburn shade almost completely masked by the soot and dirt collected in it. Abruptly, the boy sneezes from inhaled grit. He winces as the movement aggravates his sore ribs, pressing his hand against his chest again. [Frarin] "I did," Frarin says, nodding now with the stem of his pipe still in his lips. His scowl fades, though he drops his gaze, absently rubbing at the dried blood on his left hand as he continues. "And he might not. But that does not make your fear any better founded. The Thane knows me only slightly better than you do, and only then because of what he suspects of me, not what he has seen. I share my mind little more with my fellows than with you, lad." What the Thane suspects? What he has seen? It is unclear from the meandering nature of this explanation whether Frarin means for Keldean to understand it or not. Perhaps he does not, for certainly it is as guarded as all else the silver merchant has said. [Keldean(#23332)] "What.. does he suspect?" He's prying more, and it's with a carefulness to his tone instead of the accusations he made before in front of the mayor. Of course, that had all been driven by fear and fueled by Cordelia's encouragement. Today might have gone better had Adelaide not scared him so much with that sword. Keldean has a drastically narrow understanding of the world that's growing rapidly with each passing day. "I won't say anything, I swear it." He sounds sincere. [Frarin] Frarin's eyes narrow as he chews on the end of his pipe, but he does not scowl at Keldean, only shaking his head in response. "Nay, lad," he rumbles. "I do not seek to question your sincerity, but you can hardly blame me after the past week. And even were I fully assured of your silence on the matter, still I would not say. There are some things that you do not need to know and this is one of them. It is my business, not yours. The Thane only suspects badly of my honour and that has been enough for us to feud. I meant only that your outlandish theories have strained an already tense situation. That is all." Keldean nods in understanding, his leg slipping free to drop down to the floor again. "I have to clean this up.." He stands, face tightening as he rises but he takes the pain fairly well. He moves to pick up the bucket, and reaches for a hand brush that he was using to aid in cleaning out the hearth. "What can I do?" He asks as he moves over to the chairs, beginning to brush at the ash that's settled onto the brown and green fabric. "To make up for what I did, I mean.." If he can make peace with Frarin, the anger of everyone else might not be so difficult to bear. [Frarin] Frarin stands as Keldean begins to clean up the mess of ash and soot, and the dwarf attempts to brush off the fine dust from his tunic and trousers again. He gathers up his bag and slings it over a shoulder again, still clenching his pipe between his teeth. "Aye, I need to clean up as well. And see that this gets properly dressed," he says, indicating the rough bandage on his neck. He pauses at Keldean's offer, however, studying the youth with a keen gaze. "You made a mistake, Keldean lad," he rumbles. "A grave one, I will grant you, and one that others have taken up and run with, but a mistake nonetheless. You just be sure to think about things logically before you let your imagination run wild again, else someone is going to get hurt one day, with more than a shovel." He frowns. "But if you want something else to do, you make sure everyone who believes anything about my involvement in Norli's death is put right. Rumours don't die easily in this town, but you can sure enough try." Keldean stops brushing at the chair to listen, his face serious as he listens to the advice that Frarin is giving. It's unlikely that the boy will be running around for a while, or crawling through the snow eavesdropping. He does feel bad, and looking at it all now it seems a touch ridiculous that he thought such wild things. "I'm sorry. I'll tell everyone that I was wrong. I'll make sure Cordelia knows, too. She.. she doesn't seem very trusting of the dwarves." He's quiet, but adds in before Frarin can leave, "I'm sorry that you hurt your hip. I won't say anything about that either." Maybe all Keldean really needed was a firm hand to set him straight on things. Sometimes it only takes a shove in the right direction to get a teen back on track. Of course, he could also just be trying to win the dwarf over so that he can go with them in the spring. [Keldean(#23332)] Anyone that walks into the parlour will see a grand mess. There's a black film over half of the room from a bucket of ash that was kicked. Keldean is standing with a small handbrush near one of the plush chair, and the boy is equally coated in the soot, his face and arms stained, and his clothes and hair thick with the stuff. Cordelia enters the small parlour from the hallway. Cordelia has arrived. [Frarin] "You be wary of that Cordelia," Frarin says as he starts to move towards the door. "I didn't think much about her, but if Yule was any evidence, I'd wager she has a mean streak in her. Don't go getting into trouble just to correct folks. I can handle those who want to believe what they will. And steer clear of the dwarves until I get some things sorted out." With that, the silver merchant gives a sharp nod to Keldean and limps from the room, leaving only a trail of hazy blue-grey smoke and a shovel with a few specks of blood on one corner as evidence that he was ever there at all. Cordelia hears her name and hobbles on into the room as Frarin is heading out. She gives the dwarf a wide berth, though she asks, as she walks in, "What about me? Mean streak?" She's frowning and looking hurt. Keldean sighs in dismay as he looks around at the soot covered.. everything. He starts brushing at the chairs with a glum expression on his face. He pauses after a few swipes with the brush and takes a moment to vigorously shake the ash out of his hair, and attempts to beat it from his clothes. He's wincing in pain as he does so, obviously pained by some unseen injury. Cordelia's voice drifts in as Frarin is leaving and he looks up, a new wariness on his face. Well, Frarin did just say he could handle such things. Cordelia is limping and wincing at every step. "Keldean," she smiles on seeing the young man. And then her eyes go to the rest of the room, and she gasps. Loudly. Keldean cringes at her gasp, knowing how bad the mess must look.. especially since his task all day has been to shovel out the ash of the fireplaces. "Hello.. " He says quietly, brushing at the chair with little enthusiasm.Logfile from Elendor. Cordelia just stares, open-mouthed for more than a few moments before she manages, "What happened? And what happened to the dwarf?" she says, voice lower as she glances behind toward the door where Frarin just left. [Keldean(#23332)] "I accidently kicked over the bucket.. it went everywhere." He murmurs, scratching the back of his neck as he looks up at her. At the question of the dwarf his eyes wander to the doorway where Frarin just left. "Nothing.." He answers vaguely, and starts pulling the brush across the chair again. It isn't doing the best job as it's grinding as much ash into the fabric as it's knocking away. [Cordelia(#1394)] First Cordelia starts sneezing at the dust up in the air, then she starts coughing. "Keldean!" she cries, waving a hand in front of her face. "You'd best take those cushions outside and bang them out in the fresh air. All you'll accomplish here is to scatter more dust about. Here, I'll help!" With that the young woman takes a quick step forward to try to reach for a cushion, but her effort is brought up short when she yelps with a sharp "Ow!" then leans forward to rub her shin. "That boy has got a hard swing with that staff, you know?" she frowns. Her voice lowers again, "What did he say about me? Frarin, the dwarf. I heard something." Keldean moves forward on impulse to aid her, but slows his advance when she seems to have things under control. He's quiet for a moment, then answers her question in a reluctant tone, "He said to make sure that I told you that I was wrong about what I thought." The teen turns to pull off one of the cushions, but as he leans over he gasps from that hidden injury of his own. Seems everyone is a little banged up today. Cordelia frowns at that. "What happened to you? And wrong? So he's not the murderer." She smirks, then sighs, waving a hand dismissively. "Well, I guess I never really thought he was. But you seemed to think so...and..." She smiles. "I need to go finish peeling potatos. Can we talk later?" [Keldean(#23332)] "Nothing happened.. I'm fine." He answers quickly, and when she goes on about the potatoes he nods. "Yeah, sure. I have to clean this up before Hazel or Nob see.." Keldean doesn't really want to answer any questions and has new motivation to clean the ash up before Cordelia is done with -her- task.