(Collab between me and @Drunkasaurusrex) Cole looked on as the inkeep returned, bearing food and drink for the Knight. The man of Gondor stood as proud and regal as ever, he had removed his polished armour, settling instead for plain clothes and a traveller's cloak, yet there was no mistaking him for a simple wanderer. A gruesome scar marred his otherwise pleasant face, something he had earned in the war with those dark-skinned people from the East, perhaps? Suddenly, Cole realised his silence might be taken as offensive, so he quickly spoke:
"Greetings, Master Baranor. Coleman Cutleaf, at your service." He said, extending a hand.
The Bree-lander had briefly considered using another name, but what use would that be? Eorl and Gweluon knew of his deception, there was little sense in trying to hide who he was from the rest of the group. And besides, he didn't think he could lie to this man and then go on eating as if nothing had happened.
The Swan Knight turned and shook Cole's hand with a slight smile.
"Well met, Master Cutleaf ... would you care to join me?"
In truth, the man's offer took Cole somewhat by surprise. It seemed strange that a man who was reckoned a lord in his own country would offer to break bread with someone he had only just met. Cole wondered if all Knights were as courteous, he'd certainly never had the chance to talk to someone with such a rank. Baranor's grip was firm, however, and his hands were calloused - the signs of an honest man, any Bree-lander knew that.
"Y-yes, thank you." Cole managed to mumble, taking a sip from his drink while pondering what topic he could even discuss with such a man. "Was, er...was your journey here a long one?" That was probably the worst question that came to mind, but it just so happened to be the only one that he could think of off the top of his head.
Cole couldn't help but notice another scar along the back of the Gondorian's hand as the man took a long pull from the horn cup that they apparently served ale in around these parts. Just how many marks from old injuries like that did the man have? And how many like him had not been able to survive a battle with just scars? Surely a man as good-natured and with as much gray in his hair as this Baranor must have made many friends in his life ... some of which must have fallen in battle.
That last thought was a sobering one and Cole looked up to see that Baranor had seen his gaze and was looking at him as though he'd guessed the Bree-lander's thoughts. He hurriedly looked away and tried not to flush as he started to stutter his way through an apology before the Swan Knight waved his hand.
"Pay it no mind, Master Cutleaf. Such a mark does tend to attract the eye, does it not?"
Cole nodded, still embarrassed, but the Gondorian looked more amused than anything else.
"As to how I got that one, the telling is not particularly exciting. Suffice to say that a young squire of Dol Amroth thought he could afford to not pay attention one day and a certain armsmaster showed him the error of his ways." The Knight grinned and suddenly looked many years younger.
"In answer to your question, though. My journey here was well, thank you ... and how was your's Master Cutleaf?"
"It...it was uneventful." He paused, trying to recall something interesting he could tell the Gondorian, but apart from stealing a horse from a group of wild-looking men nothing else came to mind.
That was certainly not something he was eager to share mere moments after they had met. "It's the first time I have journeyed so far from home, so I suppose I should count myself lucky I even got here."
He didn't know why he felt it necessary to share that information with the man, who had no reason of caring in the first place. However, what surprised Cole even more was the sadness in his own voice, did he really miss Bree that much?
That thought was quickly cast aside in favour of another - this time it was Cole's inquisitiveness that got the better of him. When he spoke again, it was in a more vibrant, excited voice. His hesitance and embarrassment seemed to have disappeared without a trace.
"I'm sorry, but I have never heard of Dol Amroth - is it one of Gondor's great cities? And what is a..." he tried to recall the word, "a squire? Is it like an apprentice? Oh and why does your helmet have wings?"
A concentrated effort of will from Cole was required to shut his mouth and stop the flow of questions, because he was likely to drown Baranor in them before the older man even had a chance to speak.
Yet, it seemed the Knight did not mind his questions. In fact, he looked as though he rather enjoyed a chance to converse.
"Well, you may wish to have yourself another drink, I will try to keep my answers short, but in order to satisfy your curiosity, I will have to indulge in some history ... should you be so inclined to listen to man prattle on about his youth."
Cole took a long pull and nodded his assent. This brew of the horselords was hardly comparable to the ale in the Prancing Pony or even that in Archet, but it was certainly drinkable and he had a feeling it was just the thing for long stories on a cold and rainy evening.
So, Cole leaned back in his seat in his seat and listened as the man told him of Dol Amroth and how it was one of many great cities in the realm of Gondor and that the winged helm he bore was something a Swan Knight earned upon completing his training, a reminder of the days when bright and terrible lords had sailed from the west to claim all they saw. Cole knew something of those events, bits and pieces gleaned from Appleby's scrolls, but he had never imagined that someone knew the tale in its entirety.
From there the talk turned to Baranor's youth and Cole learned that a squire was indeed something like an apprentice. Perhaps it was Cole's imagination, but it seemed as though there was a sadness in the Gondorian"s countenance when he spoke of his home. It passed too quickly for him to be certain, but Cole wondered what could happen that would make a man feel that way about the place he'd come from and that made him miss Bree even more.
What the Knight had told him seemed like something from a fireside legend and while Cole would have enjoyed such a tale in the past, he would have hardly lent it any credence. And yet, here was a man straight from the old tales, who would have been an elder by the standards of the Bree-lander's reckoning, even though he looked to be a hale man of early middle age. What he'd said of the wider world made Cole wonder if it wasn't too late to try and head home, where he belonged. He was no great lord like the man next to him, born and trained for great deeds, and evil times, what was he doing among such folk?
Perhaps that was why he hesitated when the man asked how he'd come to Aldburg. The Knight had been polite enough not to inquire about what happened earlier, with Cole being brought to the King under guard. The Bree-lander was sure that the Amrothian knew most of the story, but a part of him wanted to tell him everything, if only because he had someone to talk to in this strange land. After a moment, Cole told his new companion the tale in its entirety and the Gondorian sat and listened carefully, his face impassive.
"Well, I suppose you could have been more forthcoming with the guards, but that does not mean you should be ashamed. Your deed was well-meant, not many folk would have taken up such a challenge the way you have. I do feel that your role in this tale is not yet over, Master Cutleaf."
Cole was not sure how to respond to that, his mind seemed to be filled with equal parts dread and excitement at the Swan Knight's words and the certainty in the man's voice. So he settled for a polite nod and taking another long pull on his drink. Thankfully, the Gondorian seemed to understand what was going on and turned back to his meal, leaving Cole to ponder over what had happened in a comfortable sort of silence.
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