[Nogrod]

This last wording of Grimhorn started to ring some bells in Rían’s mind: “And speaking about how beornings are losing their own culture to foreign ways surely doesn't make one a hater of anything un-beorningish.” He started to have some flash-backs from his memories from the very early days of his life. Something he hadn’t remembered for a long time. He had prepared his pipe while Grimhorn was talking, and had just lit it when Grimhorn ended his ponderings. He took a long inhale of the smoke and leaned backwards again, thinking as mightily as he could. There were just too many thoughts going on simultaneously, one way and the other, to third and fourth way... He was baffled, and tried to ease the situation by taking a sip from his pint. But that was empty. He smiled uncomfortably, and suggested: “Maybe I’ll get us the next pints? I think my head needs some clearing now – and I think yours will too? And our discussion calls for continuing. I’ll go and get them, for I think it’s my turn now. You take this pipe for the time being, as a notion of trust and friendship.” With that he offered his lit pipe to Grimhorn, then rose, nodded, and took off from the table.

This is just madness! Should this be the night when I start to untrust my own father? The one that had always cared of me, who had taught me so much, who even sacrified himself for me? Oh, this is madness indeed! But still he couldn’t ward off the images of those strangers sitting with his father during the nights of his childhood, or those places and people they were sheltered by, when they were on the run at his teen-years...

At happenstance he popped into an eerily frozen Farael on his way to the serving-board. “Farael, how good to see you again! – although I also see, that you are not so happy in this moment.” He studied his just acquainted comrade with some suspicion. “What is it now? Where’s Naria? Or your friend I met when I came in here, I don’t remember his name... or these elven fellows? Or that rascal-lady I saw you with sometime ago” Rían poked Farael gently to the chest, and forced him to look at his eyes. “C’mon man. What’s the trouble?” As Farael still seemed quite absent, he continued:

“Well, as you see, I have a friend there – we have some kinship matters to talk over to”, he pointed to the huge read-haired giant someway to their right. Farael could not help but notice the Beorning puffing the pipe at the table. "I quess our talk is a talk of life and death, but if you insist, I could be ready to turn the subject-matter for a while. I’m getting us the next round of ale. So if you have nothing better to do, why don’t you join us?” With that, he patted Farael to the shoulder and waited for his answer.