Lanisen is on his way across the outer ward to the kennels, returning from the market in the early afternoon. He takes a bite of a hand-sized meat pie as he walks.
Freya strides into the castle market, looking up at the walls in some awe. “They sure build high fer not diggin’ holes.” She bumps into someone’s back, not paying attention. “Beggin’ yer pardon.”
Lanisen turns hastily and steps backward and away, his shoulders hunching up. He looks startled to see Freya, and is momentarily at a loss for words.
Megren comes skipping down the northern stair two steps at a time.
Freya chuckles, “Well, by t’ Lion! If ‘t isn’t a small bit o’ earth!” She backs up, herself, sizing Lanisen up. “Ye looken like ye saw a ghost, but ne’er a ghost did smell like Freya, iffen ye need t’ proof.”
Lanisen hesitates a little uncertainly, then ducks his head to her to cover it. “Hello, Mistress Freya,” he says politely. “I’m, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to step in your way.”
Megren stops in the doorway for a moment to survey the ward.
Freya assures him, “No offense taken, lad. It was me who up and bumped into ye. Say…” She gestures around. “How’d ye find yer way around anyway? Ye tall folks can see futher, I guess, but still quite a maze.” She shifts her satchel uncomfortably on her shoulder.
Lanisen rubs his elbow, his eyes flitting to the satchel. “You, you get used to it, I guess,” he answers. “Where– Are you lookin’ for someone, or tryin’ to get someplace?”
Megren’s eyes land on Lanisen and she grins, picking her way through the crowd toward him.
Freya pulls a letter from her satchel. “Ye got me. I’m out of m’ depth here, but I’ve got a letter fer t’ healer o’ Anvard. Says I come highly recommended and we can learn from each other. So, says I, I won’t learn iffen I don’t travel and t’ tall folks could learn a thing or two as well. So, I set out with permission and came here. But there’s no signposts, no way t’ know the way t’ the healers.”
Lanisen draws a breath at this, looking ill-at-ease, but he rallies. “The, the healers, Master Adrian, you’d be lookin’ for him, yeah?”
Megren calls as she nears them, “Lanisen!” she pulls up and her eyes shift to the dwarf. “Oh, who’s this?”
Freya squints at her letter’s address. “Might’ve been t’ name. It’s gone all squigly.” She nods politely to the red head as she raises her attention from the letter again. “I’m Freya from Carmichael. I dinnae suppose ye would be Master Adrian.”
Megren asks, “No, sorry; he spends a lot of time on the other side of the inner wall.” She glances at Lanisen. “Did you need someone to run a message to him?”
Lanisen says, “I think– um, yes, yes. I can, I can run it, if it’s–” He shakes his head slightly and says, “Sorry; Mistress Freya, this is Megren, squire to Sir Darrin.”
Megren dips her head to the Dwarf. “Nice to meet you.”
Lanisen says, looking toward the inner gate, “Oh, there’s– Mistress Freya, that’s Adrian there, the tall one. I can, I can introduce you if you like.”
Megren crosses her arms pleasantly. “That’s timing for you.”
Lanisen glances back at Megren, the look of somebody seeking reassurance, and escorts Freya to meet Adrian. “I can carry your bag, if you like,” he can be heard offering as they move away.
Megren, seeing the look, follows after with an air of ease.