Part Ninety-Five
Duma did not dress as if going to battle, or preparing for a feast, but since Lain had hinted the activity would be out in the Wood, away from the buildings, Duma thought it fair to bring weapons, as if on a hunt. He had hunted when he was very young, and a little since traveling with Dale, but Duma did not know much of Elven hunts, except what Beryl had told in stories. In Beryl's stories, Elves put on rather fancy clothes and their best weapons to go on a hunt, but then, apart from Sylvan Elves, they were said to do other things, like go to battle in brilliant gold armor, as if they had no care for stealth.
Loriol had said they would meet near the feasting pavilion and leave from there, so Duma walked past the other buildings, on his way from the east side of the settlement, where the burnt houses were. He saw the group gathered and noticed straight away that his horse was with them. He also saw there were four Dwarves with Greenleaf, Lain and Loriol, that there were some baskets and small casks at their feet, and that they had their weapons.
Greenleaf saw Duma looking to the horses and explained, "I meant to bring my horse, and Lain told me that you had one, so I sent for it."
Duma pet Snaga's neck. He did not have the saddle, but Snaga might let him ride bareback if he asked nicely. Even if the rather stubborn beast did not allow him to ride, Duma was glad to see the Men had not removed the braids from Snaga's mane. The paint had been brushed away in grooming, but it could be replaced.
Duma leaned in to his horse and asked if it would let him ride.
"That seems the way an Elf speaks to a horse."
Duma looked around Snaga's head to the Elf-Lord. "I purchased her from Beryl, and often she thinks she is still Beryl's horse. He trained her himself. She will not agree to carry me unless she thinks I am behaving properly."
"You seem familiar with Beryl."
"It seems all Elves are more familiar with each other than Men are with Men. Beryl was the one who taught me to comb and braid hair."
Lain laughed, for it seemed a flirtatious thing for one to speak of the teaching or learning of hair arrangement to an Elf.
"Duma, will your horse carry some of the supplies?" Loriol asked.
"Snaga will carry some." Duma took the baskets and straps that Loriol passed to him and lay them across his horse's back. The Lord's white horse took some lesser portion of the gear and the rest was to be carried by those walking, which did not seem a large burden for any one of them.
Greenleaf mounted his horse and then reached a hand down to pull the Dwarf who was his friend up onto the horse's back. Duma leapt to Snaga's back and offered Bari Son of Gib a ride, but the Dwarf declined, saying Dwarves did not ride horses.
They made their heading north through the settlement and crossed over the road to continue north northwest through the bare trees.
The Brothers Gib began singing a song to pass the time.
"There is a waterfall nearby," Duma said. He could hear the falling water distinct from the Great River to the west.
"Yes," Greenleaf agreed.
"It is one of the waters within the Wood," Lain said, "I was here last to fetch the little ones from hiding. Mannish Rangers used to hide here from the Dark Lord." He whispered the name of the enemy. "There is a secret cave behind the waterfall."
"It is not really very secret anymore, except perhaps to outsiders," Loriol explained.
They reached the waterfall shortly and the small river that ran from it west into the Great River. The land within present Borders of the Silver Wood was quite rugged and uneven in places and here there was a cliff face where the higher ground of the road and settlement further east gave way and lower elevations continued to the Great River's banks.
It was a small river and a small waterfall, when compared to those on the Great River, but it was enough to fill the immediate area with noise and to disguise the entrance to the water-worked cavern beyond the cliff side.
Those mounted dismounted and all took the supplies from the horses. The mounts were left untethered near the swift, narrow river and the party of eight carried the gear, but for a small portion Greenleaf piled aside, up into the cave behind the fall of water.
The Dwarves fell into conversation about the nature of the caverns and other caverns they had visited. Orcs knew as much about caves as Dwarves, or so all Orcs would insist, and Duma was able to follow their conversation, as Dwarves rarely used their own language outside their homes and strongholds, except perhaps to curse, insult or give battle cry.
"Pardon, Dwarf-Lord, but I do not have your name," Duma said. He had yet to be introduced to the Dwarf. The Elves most often called him 'the Dwarf', rather than by name, as if he was the only one, but Duma understood that certain company called Greenleaf 'The Elf' as if he was the only one. "Duma Yrchelen Mapleseed at your service. Always a pleasure to meet a Dwarf. I have learned much from Dwarves."
"You may call me Nari," the Dwarf grumbled.
Duma did not need to see the slight stiffening of Greenleaf's posture to know he knew the Dwarf by another name. Duma was not surprised. He actually knew some things of Dwarves. "Of course. That is one of your outside names. It is not the custom of Dwarves to give their true Dwarven names to any of other races. I had a name that only Orcs called me, but I no longer like to hear it; I am Duma now. Your custom seems agreeable. Elves in particular would find Dwarven names rather difficult to pronounce. 'Nari' has an Elven root, does it not? It means 'fire'. I have had lessons in Elven dialects. That seems a strong name for a Dwarf, as your people are well known for the fine works of your forges. My task in the Mines was to tend furnaces. I found many Dwarven tools and writings there, but I could not decipher much without Dwarves to speak to or references, except for the names of metals and gems. I know the names of metals and gems and some formations of stone in several languages."
"Is Duma not a surprising Orc?" Bari asked.
"To think he gave thanks for the many fine Dwarven things he had made use of," Robi added.
"Duma does not seem pronounced like an Orc name," Lord Nari said gruffly.
"Ay, no, it is not the name Orcs called me when I lived among them. It is the name my father, who is an Elf of the Vale, gave to me, though, the root is Dwarvish, 'Dûm', he thought the shift to 'Duma' would make it sounds better to Elves. It means…"
"I know what it means."
"I am told it means something like 'delving'."
"True," Nari agreed, "but it also means in Dwarvish, 'great work'."
Duma smiled, baring fangs. "Then it is a most excellent name my father gave me."
"Come, Nari," Greenleaf said, with playful emphasis on the name, "help us to build a fire and set out the food and drink. Lain is eager to get to target practice."
The Dwarf-Lord grumbled but lifted a cask and carried it away into the cavern a distance. The other three Dwarves crowded Duma then. "It seems a living cave, only these sections here have been greatly disturbed by Mannish occupation. We could restore such a place," Mori said.
"We are better at singing, but the Lord could do it with his Dwarves, easily." Duma understood that Greenleaf's companion was not specifically their Lord, but only a Lord among various Dwarven Lords. Bari continued, "This section would be difficult to restore, so perhaps some carving to give it more pleasant shape and make routes to further chambers easier. The places where the water yet falls should be carefully guarded. It is a nice little cave, not so grand as the Caverns we visited of Lord…Nari."
"I shall go to see them one day, it seems I may survive. I heard the council decided some land should be given to Orcs, though nothing more has been decided about it as to when or how or where."
"We have no news of that," Robi said.
"Duma, would you please help us here?" Lain called. He said then as Duma joined them, "There are truly interesting acoustics inside here."
"I think it is good to help," Duma said, "I was only listening to the Dwarves."
"That is very good," Loriol said, "but you can help us by bringing more wood from there." He gestured to a woodpile against a stone wall. "I will build the fire."
Duma carried the wood as asked. As the supplies were unpacked it became clear that enough food had been packed for several light meals, or a day's journey in peaceful time and that they had some casks and skins of ale and perhaps wine or liquor. Duma could tell some by the smell. It seemed the food was cooked and packed for travel, so they might only have need to heat it out of preference and not due to Elven dietary customs. The fire must be for warmth within the cave.
Loriol had it going in short time, and Duma for one felt comforted. He had several layers of clothing on against the winter air. Duma was inclined to build the fire so that it burned hotter, but he resisted the urge, being fairly certain it would insult Loriol and that they did not have need to melt objects.
"Let us have a meal then," Nari suggested. He already had filled a mug of ale and was drinking, but Duma thought ale was like water to Dwarves and they must seldom drink anything else.
"Oh, well, that seems a pleasant idea, but I wished to have one round of target practice before we are all competing with the Sun on our eyes and much drink in our belly. It seems fair I have one chance to look competent."
Greenleaf laughed. "You are a better archer than Lori. He only cares for swords."
"I am very skilled with swords," Loriol agreed, "We should have invited a Man along. They think any Elf is wondrously skilled with a bow. These Dwarves do not even try."
"Perhaps you would try your hand at throwing axes?" Nari said, and then aside to Greenleaf, "Your Wood Elf has given me new appreciation for your skills. I thought it must be all Elves were fine archers."
"Some drink and I might throw axes," Loriol said merrily.
Greenleaf smiled. "I knew all the time you were an exceptional Dwarf."
"All the time? You did not! I remember…!"
Greenleaf stood and left his friend ranting. "A round of target practice, then. Duma."
"Yes, Lord?"
"Bring your bow."
They went down from the cave and collected the gear Greenleaf had left. This was the target and distance markers. They walked a short way along the river and then Lord Greenleaf asked Lain to sight a straight line through trees for them. Lain pointed out a path that seemed suitable and toward the west and Greenleaf then counted paces as he walked the path, with Loriol coming behind and planting distance markers as his Lord directed.
The target itself was made of layers of various plant fibers and brightly painted with concentric, alternating black and white circles. Duma had seen similar targets for darts or arrows in Mannish settlements, but in those cases, the space within each circular band of color had been much wider. The Elves scored differently and with greater distinction of distance off target, which was the dark circle at the very center of the board.
As Greenleaf and Loriol finished with suspending the target between trees with rope, Lain explained the game, which many Elves, or at least those of the Wood or Sylvan folk, knew. The first round was the easiest, being at a closer distance and in fair conditions. In later rounds, various challenges were added to increase difficulty. The distance was increased and lighting changed over the course of the day to add glare and darkness and according to some variations of the rules, archers drank liquor to challenge their ability to compensate for the impaired balance and vision.
"We will try to distract you as much as possible." Lain said, and he then lowered his voice to a very soft whisper, "Lord Greenleaf is a very skilled archer, one of the best of our people, but if you make him angry, personally, he sometimes misses a shot, but he wants us to continue to challenge him, so that he can learn to control such emotions when he has need and improve his skill."
The Dwarves had set up a second target, which seemed a Dwarven variation of the game. The target did not have circles, but various rune-marked squares, as if to test not ability to always strike center, but to test the ability to strike a shifting target, or perhaps to read. Their target board was hung toward the south and at a shorter distance.
Loriol called then, "Come, bring the bows and arrows, we will start the first round close in."
"You will shoot twice in a round, once, and then again after the others have had a turn, so whether you go first or last you have a chance to see others shoot and match their score," Lain said.
Duma did not recall if he had seen Lain use a bow before, he was carrying two, as Loriol had not taken his with him before. That seemed typical of one who was not an archer but only practiced it as a sport. One whose life depended on bow and arrows would not so easily leave a bow behind.
Loriol's bow, when Lain passed it to him seemed typical of those crafted by Elves, or it was much alike to the one Duma now carried. He supposed that both had been crafted in the Green Wood, as Lenaduiniel had said Duma's bow had been. They were not what were called 'horse-bows', but they were just short enough that one who had skill could manage to fire one from the back of a horse. Greenleaf's bow was of a similar size, though it was more ornately carved and perhaps even strung with wire. Orcs sometimes fashioned crossbows with a string of wire, if they were well supplied or trained by a Wizard in such making, but common strings carried by Mannish archers would be sinew and those of Elves varied, including ones of spider silk and also plant fibers.
Lain carried the most different bow. It was a longbow, shorter than an Elf's height, but perhaps as tall as a Mannish youth. It seemed overly large for Lain, who was at roughly fifty years of age grown to full height, but gangly for an Elf, which would have translated to strange or clumsy looking if Men described him. Truthfully, Dale was quite thin, being young for an Elf, but he had a harder look from years of rough life in wilderness and among Orcs and often appeared in cloaks or coats which gave him a more threatening appearance.
"I sit a typical Elven bow, Lain?" Duma asked.
"My brother carries one also. I am told, longer bows are not favored by Elves, but are something we adapted for our use from Men that we traded with in the North, when we lived there still."
"You can hunt well enough with a shorter bow. Long bows are designed for piercing armor," Greenleaf said casually. "An Elf should be skilled enough to hit a chink in armor and have no need for piercing it, though I happen to think that bow does suit Lain. He is rather good with it."
"Not that I am, like, compensating for any shortcomings by carrying about such a long bow," Lain said.
"And he has not even had a drink yet," Loriol laughed.
Greenleaf turned and looked at Duma and then at Lain. Duma found his gaze uncomfortable, as if the Elf were studying him like a Wizard who wished to know how his organs worked. "I suppose we are in familiar company. Duma is half Vale Elf, is he not?" Greenleaf looked then to Loriol. "And you bathed with him."
"I-" Loriol started, and then fell silent and looked sidewise at Duma.
"You probably have reason to dislike Orcs," Duma said to Greenleaf, "but I am not going to spoil you or eat you, so just take your shot."
"You speak as if you would be capable of taking me!"
"My Elven is not very good. Perhaps I should have said I have not the intention of spoiling you or eating you, even if I had the ability, which is as yet unproven, as we have not tested strength or skill against each other." Duma put an arrow to his bow, aimed and released. "Try to understand, Elf flesh does not really taste good to Orcs, even if they will put one in a cook pot out of convenience or desperation. They only threaten to eat Elves as a demoralization tactic. And as for the other thing, if I were to do it, no Elf would complain, because I know how to make it feel good and rather dislike the sound of Elves screaming under torture. I am told such a sound sends me into rages, actually, though I barely remember such events. But my skill aside, I am no longer interested in practicing giving pleasure to anyone who is male, as I am married to Ugarit with customs and vows enough to satisfy the traditions of multiple races, and I should add, it is not so much a political union as it may seem."
Greenleaf looked like he was about to rant.
"If you just get upset, you will not match my shot." Duma looked at the target then. His arrow was dead center. Of course, this round was easy.
Greenleaf turned, quickly nocked an arrow and fired.
Duma smiled and licked a fang, though no one watched. "That was excellent. The head of yours slid right against the shaft of mine."
"You played this game before."
"No, but perhaps Dale has. Much of what he does seems like this game."
"When he is well again, perhaps I shall invite him on such an outing."
Tsuki stood outside the Elder's tent and felt a pull toward the west. It was slight and resistable, but Dale was thinking about him. He felt calculating. Dale was still healing, but he was often alert now and recently seemed to have thoughs to schemes and politics.
Tsuki had gleaned some details about the council in the Silver Wood from Dale and passed these along to Oromë and Tilion, but they often seemed to already know.
Tsuki had shared camp with the nomads often as a child, when he lived with his teacher. He had met this tribe before, but they could not recognize him now, except perhaps for the Shaman. Tsuki, his father and the god were all disguised as Rangers from the west. It felt strange to Tsuki to have the body of a Man and to not appear he was from an eastern people. The nomads would have treated him with less suspicion in his former body.
The Shaman had not named him, but Tsuki felt the aged man knew him. He had been the same that painted the eagle on Tsuki's back.
Orome had made himself the highest ranked Ranger and of a noble Mannish house, and had seen fit to dismiss Tsuki to tend to the horses. Oromë's steed was his own, but they other two had been summoned to them by some means Tsuki had not yet learned, though they were flesh and bone animals.
Oromë was asking the nomad Elder about the Rómendar. Tsuki knew this was one of the winter camps and the nomads had come this far south to make the camp only in the last month or so. They would remain south until spring and then travel north and then in summer, farther north, following migratory herds. Their people would trade with many that came to their camps, but most often with other related tribes, as they infrequently had dealings with other peoples or races.
Tsuki doubted they would say anything useful about the Rómendar. The Lost Host must have come west earlier in the year to establish their hiding places, and Tsuki thought they would have come by way of the Dark Lord's previous domain, as Setsugekka had possessed artifacts from that land and the Sea would have wanted many hands to help him search. Yet, Oromë had not taken them to the Freemen, who lived now in that land, but much farther east to the nomad camp.
The Shaman looked out from his tent again at Tsuki. This time, he came out, wearing his deer skins and approached Tsuki.
"Tsuki," he said, "you come with me."
He knew. The old man had used his name. Tsuki followed to his tent. The structure was like the others, made of hides and tusks lashed with rope and sinew. The shaman's tent had many talismans hanging within and had a sweet smoky smell about the interior. It was much as Tsuki remembered, a bed of furs and a horsehide drum and a shape like a round metal shield containing a small fire of brush and fagots of grass. There were woodlands within their wandered borders, but they carried only what was needed and large pieces of wood were more often carved into ceremonial objects than burned.
"You died, but you have not crossed over to the spirit world. But you are not a spirit that haunts the living in your former shape. I think you are not a skin changer as some Men may be. You are one who was never entirely a Man. This is also a form and shape that is yours by nature, but you are also in disguise Tsuki. I name you and know you. Show your true form."
"I am not one you have ability to summon and command, Shaman, but I have respect for you and I know you, so I will show you another form to put you at ease." Instantly he appeared nearly as he had when a Man, only flawless. He no longer kept his hair in a soldier's tied-back style and his clothing became loose white pants and a jacket made of white rabbit fur and his staff, swords and jewelry ceased appearing as other implements. If the Shaman looked, the blue eagle would be on Tsuki's back.
"Let me look at the staff."
Tsuki did not loose his hold on the staff, but tipped the top toward the old Man so he might look at it.
"And what else have you made?"
"A bow, some ceremonial objects of metal, clay and bone, some wooden figures and tools, a drum of larch and horsehide, iron pendants to find my way. They could not all survive my death, and so many are in another's keeping until I return."
"You learned of Wizardry?"
"And Witch Craft."
"I can teach you of the spirit world."
"I would like to speak with you, Shaman, but I am now able to spirit walk without potions. There are perhaps things a Man cannot best teach me." Understanding how he might walk outside the physical world on his own was something Oromë had taught Tsuki quite recently.
"One who travels with you is a very powerful spirit. Very old."
Tsuki did not agree or disagree. Revealing himself was one matter, betraying Oromë was another. Even so, he believed the Shaman had enough spiritual knowledge and power to recognize what Oromë was, even if he did not know specifically who he was.
"There is no wolf on this staff, but perhaps there should be."
"Yes, there should be. Wolves also serve," Tsuki agreed. "I have been without my carving tools."
"Use mine. We will talk."
It was the next day before Tilion came into the Shaman's tent to fetch Tsuki. He only said, "We are going now."
The archery practice accompanied by feasting and drinking had gone well and lasted into the middle of the night. The horses were led home, as even Duma and Greenleaf decided they would walk. This seemed wise, as they were supporting the other two Elves.
Lain was hanging on Duma and saying they were like cousins and how he admired Duma for having taken second place from him by such a wide margin in the later rounds.
Loriol was just as drunk.
The Dwarves seemed reasonably able to walk and find their way, as much as Dwarves could in a Wood, anyway, but they had stuck with ale. Loriol had started drinking ale and then had some Elvish liquor, though Lain had been shouting rhymes at him in warning. He was leaning heavily on the Elf-Lord and looked as if he might be sick.
"Will they be able to get to their beds all right?" Duma asked of Greenleaf and then spoke to Lain, quietly. "Will you go to your own house? If I came home to Ugarit as drunk as you are, she would draw knives on me. Maybe you could go to Loriol's bed and not disappoint your sister."
"She may be my brother's wife and female head of our hearth-share, but Gwende is not my mother. My mother was killed by Orcs, you know! I am glad that Dale avenged our people on Dumuzi's Clan! They were foul!"
"If he shouts any louder, we may have Orcs on us, as friendly as they pretend to be," Nari said.
"Quiet, Lain," Duma said, "We will see you to your bed." Not all the Orcs were pretending, but it was possible some were. Duma was certain many, including most of the Chieftains, did see the value in making alliances with other races, but there may be some Orcs who would still like to war on Elves. The great number of Orcs remaining in the Mines were a liability, as they had so little of the experiences Duma or Marduk had that taught the advantage in trade or allegiance. "They would not attack Lain, even if there are Orcs who would break treaty."
"They killed your Little One, and clearly could have avoided it, even if the first arrow was a misfire," Greenleaf said. "I have heard from the Chieftains in the council, and some show intelligence I would not have thought to find in Orc-kind, but I must have caution against the Orcs in general, Duma. I would be a poor leader to my Elven people if I did not."
Duma nodded and shifted Lain's weight careful to walk easier. Greenleaf seemed a particularly sappy drunk for one who had a temper. Duma would have expected him to become a brawler. It made him think that Greenleaf was a little like Dale in that he was one who was quite sensitive, even for an Elf, and most anger and hostility he showed was only to mask sadness or hurt. He had certainly become nicer to Duma the more he drank.
"We can put Loriol in Lain's bed," Duma said, "They can try to care for each other in the morning that way."
"Would your Ugarit really draw knives on you for coming home drunk?" Greenleaf asked. He had been shocked when Lain had pointed out the fresh wounds on Duma's arm earlier in the day. Duma had explained that he had been marked by a former Master among Orcs who had kept him as something like a slave and that because Orcs had no letters or their own and many dialects that interpretation of runes might differ from Clan to Clan and what had been read as 'N' could also be read as 'R' by an equally as likely system. Thus Duma had not objected to Ugarit carving the 'G' and 'T' runes above and below the old scar, to make her name. The alternative was to obscure the old rune with many cuts across it, as had been done several times to Dale, and Duma found that a pointless form of gathering scars.
It had seemed vaguely interesting to Greenleaf and for several rounds he had distracted Duma from his shots with many questions about Orc dialects and language. Dale was said to be well informed in such things, but Greenleaf had learned enough to understand that the main influences of any Orc Clan's speech were Goblin, which was a nearly original Orc language, largely based on a Northern Mannish dialect, Black Speech, which had been invented by the Dark Lords, and Common Speech, which was spoken by various races throughout the west. All Clans had slang which they added to the dialects they spoke, and in some Clans this was largely influenced by rhyming or repetition. The runes they used were those Elves of ancient times had used and which were also used by Dwarves. Orcs often did not write in the vowels for names or commonly used words, though they understood the use of such letters, and reserved the writing of them for written messages or instructions, where there was a need to be precise and it could not be afforded to assume the reader understood the context. Duma said that Orcs also developed sigils and pictograms for the names of breeds, Clans and Bands so that the name was not spelled out when written but recorded with a single symbol.
Greenleaf was over 500-years old and his people had often fought Orcs, but he had often assumed any strategy or weapons design they seemed to possess came from one who was controlling them. It was clear now that Orcs were much more crafty and intelligent then their enemies had known. He understood now why the Blue Wizards had targeted them especially, because the Orcs, without any more Wizards or corrupt Wizards, wishing to lead them, were themselves a great threat if they remained enemies.
The Wizard's plot had threatened other races along with the Orcs, and so Greenleaf agreed all involved had been right to stop them. Now, the matter at hand was the Orcs. He had voted to give them land mostly because he wanted them out of the stronghold of the mines and somewhere he could find them.
"Maybe I should check in on Dale. Ugarit cannot really blame me for being with the Chieftain, can she?"
Greenleaf and the Dwarves followed until they were in site of the guest houses and the Treeweavers' hearth-share. The Brothers Gib then went off to their house, while Greenleaf and Nari went toward the Elf-Lord's house. Duma was able to get Lain or Loriol up a ladder. He was not certain he could carry both, or if he would want to leave one below to carry the other.
Duma sent Lain up, hoping he might be able to climb the ladder to his own house in any state and put Loriol over his shoulder to climb. Loriol looked absolutely sick by the time they reached the platform above, so Duma turned him and pressed him over the railing so that the Elf sicked on the ground below. Lain ran off to use the leaves, as it were. Duma had lately seen the Elven tree house equivalent of a latrine or Wizard water closet. It was a small chamber with contraptions for absorbing and wicking away waste to some area below. It was not to be used by Orcs or Men, or anyone but Elves, as Elven metabolism produced remarkably pleasant waste compared to other races, though Duma had been told it was no so pleasant they wished to be near it, only in comparison to others.
Duma went to get a cup of water for Loriol. The house was unfamiliar and he made a little noise in searching for a cup and clean water, and found Alqua staring at him with a knife in hand through a gap in the curtain of her bed chamber. Duma was still until she closed the curtain, and then took the cup of water to Loriol.
"There is someone down there. I think…I think some people who should have found a more private place."
Duma looked down over the railing. He could see them, and hear them. He recognized Bau's face. Duma snarled in distaste. If Jareth and Bau wanted to get involved in breeding activity, he did not really care. The Elves would not object so long as it did not result in pits being left behind. It was only he felt they should have found somewhere more private, as Loriol said.
"I am sure they will not be long," Duma said, "Go to bed."
Duma saw that Loriol and Lain met each other and then went down the ladder. He let himself into the guest house. The door was not locked or barred in any way. Dale seemed to be asleep. Fei also, but Setsugekka was seated by the fire. "Is there trouble?" she asked.
"No."
"Would you care for tea?"
"Only if you can give me two cups to take with me. Ugarit will not want me away if all I do is have tea with a pretty girl. Visiting the Chieftain she may understand."
"We have several sets of cookware. I will fill a pot for you to take to share with her."
"Thank you. Tell Dale I was here. I will speak with him tomorrow, if he would like."
"I will tell Dale," Setsugekka promised.