Scarburg Meadhall

[Gwathagor]

Al this high talk was getting the better of Crabannan. Who did this rabble think they were? He slammed his axe into a stump.

"Justice?!" he exclaimed. "What would a mob of Rohirrim know of justice and fate and maturity? These are eastern words, scholars' words. I know you have fought there - but words overheard in a tavern 15 years ago do not make you a royal minister, Hilderinc! Let someone who has lived in Gondor speak of justice. Justice is not what the king commands, it is life. It is life and blood and breath to the people, that which need to keep them alive through good and ill! And these people need Eodwine - I can see it in their hearts and eyes. He understands them in a way that your Athanar never will! Leof may be young, but at least he has not been so tainted by your so-named maturity that he cannot see this."

Crabannan took a deep breath and jerked his axe free, swinging it back and forth idly.

"I've said more than I meant to. I am no kingmaker or man of learning, but I've traveled much and lived under many rulers, good and bad alike. Nor am I a stranger to your own people."

He began to chop again. Loudly.