The knight’s smile creased around his eyes. “Thank you,” he said solemnly. Ordhan could go thankless for years--perhaps even for the rest of his life--and still go on with his self-given purpose, but even a hint of appreciation from those he hoped to protect was a cherished thing.
Neither her opinion nor her excuse seemed strange to him. Blood had been impressed upon him as too important a thing for as long as he could remember, though in unfortunate context, and experience had proved to him that one could never have too much help against Darkspawn. The thought of approaching his commander with a bartender’s dwarvish mother in tow was an amusing thought, though, even to the humorless knight. The other would not be amused. “It is true,” Ordhan answered. “I have never been to your peoples’ kingdom, but I have read of them and their battles, there. If not for them and the Grey Wardens, I am sure the surface would be overrun.”
The teller of stories proved a good listener, as well, falling silent the moment Ordhan began, undivided attention devoted despite the lack of elaboration. He may not have realized how much of his hesitation showed, but was secretly glad when he was not asked to tell much more. It was a dark memory. By the Maker’s grace neither he nor any other would find themselves in such a situation again.
“You are very kind,” he said to the compliment, the answering smile a bit sheepish. A change came over his posture when the dwarf brought the subject from war to music--slight, though noticeable if one had a close eye, with some of the formal stiffness in his shoulders fading and the crease between his brows vanishing. He rested one gloved wrist on the counter’s edge. “I do love music. I have no skill in it, myself,” he was quick to add. It took a moment’s thought to think of a favorite song--Maker help him, there were so many. “Perhaps Dane and the Werewolf. It is hard to say.” His hand opened, turning palm-up in a mild gesture of helplessness. She was a minstrel; surely she would understand such a difficult choice.
“There is. Many minstrels play in the taverns and in the houses of nobles; some simply in the market, as well, for coin.” Though it would not be fitting for a knight to waste the day away standing at street corners to listen, he had not been above idling near them as a guard. ...He hadn’t been above much of anything as a guard. “I am sure anyone would love to hear your music,” he finished, the compliment as earnest as anything.