(no subject)
In the world beyond the opened door there is firelight, and the sound of men's voices, but all of that is filtered through the flap of a makeshift tent. Hektor blinks a little, for the goddess has taken him by surprise again. "Well," he says, "this will do well enough; I have got to get this stuff fit for my uncle, anyway."
He bows to the Bar, fist on brow, and comes away with a rag and some pots. One contains beeswax, and the others similar stuff. He sits himself cross-legged by the fireplace with a clinking of metal on metal, and falls to working the dirt and worse away from a leather helm whose sides have been reinforced with the tusks of boars.
He bows to the Bar, fist on brow, and comes away with a rag and some pots. One contains beeswax, and the others similar stuff. He sits himself cross-legged by the fireplace with a clinking of metal on metal, and falls to working the dirt and worse away from a leather helm whose sides have been reinforced with the tusks of boars.