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Ciro fancied that he saw Frór frown slightly as he asked him about his travels. Relax. I haven't made any mistake Ciro assured himself. Perhaps Frór's Dwarves had had difficulty with some travellers recently. Perhaps Frór did not want to believe everything Ciro said.
"Two years ago, or thereabouts" answered Ciro. "And, unfortunately, I did not seek the Dwarves; rather I was forced down that road. All the same, I could not have wished to find better folks. Your people took care of me in a difficult situation and I will remain forever grateful to them." Ciro smiled warmly at Frór. He had, at least, told the truth here. It was unnecessary to tell the Dwarf exactly why he had sought refuge in the East.
Ciro exchanged some words with Ibun regarding the merits of walking and of horses and ponies, raising some laughs with an old fable about a man who outraced a rider by slyly supplying his horse with dainties. The message no doubt appealed to the Dwarves and their fondness for a hard road underneath their feet. But then he turned to the promised tale of his trouble in Rohan. Ciro told how a band of three ruffians assailed him in a deep forest on the east-side of The Wold. He explained that they robbed him of a couple of possessions (nothing too valuable, as he travelled light) but that he managed to slay two of them ere he himself was slain; and that the third man ran off with the goods. The Dwarves seemed glad of Ciro's escape, but at the same time unsurprised that the lone traveller had run into such peril.
"My friends" Ciro said as he stood up, "I must leave you for a few moments. I must see if I can get myself clean, for I had forgotten momentarily just how ragged I appear to you. Excuse me for now."
He bowed to the Dwarves and went to fetch some assistance. As he walked he looked out the window and saw no movement. His talk with the Dwarves had eased his heart, but now his worry came back to him. He was, for now, still alone; the Southern Man was nowhere to be seen.
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