Jigano found himself caught by surprise at the sudden turn towards bashfulness in the old curmudgeon. It was the very act of hiding his face inadvertently behind his hands that drew the lorekeeper's attention, and he let a small frown tug at his mouth at how poorly they looked. The man may have been a master of his craft, but the years had not been kind to him. The price of creating such beauty was a high one, and Jigano's mind immediately went to Isla, wondering if the medic could help. But--
"Firewood?" he repeated slowly, making sure he understood the thick accent correctly. "Mastersmith, I would be glad to do that for you." All his running about the woods in fox form had given him a fine knowledge of a number of fallen trees, in fact, that would do nicely. He could do it himself, or trade songs and stories for other, stronger folks to bring him wood for the old man. But that wouldn't help his fingers, or the swelling likely in his other joints. No wonder he was so abrupt with people. If he was in constant pain all the time, Jigano knew he'd be no less snappish.
"I'll start tomorrow," he promised, mind already whirring with ideas. He'd start tonight at the Rathskeller, letting the folk there know that he was looking for tips and payment in firewood for awhile. It would take a day or two to start to accumulate like that, but it would free him up for an idea that was tickling his thoughts. He'd read about herbs in a labyrinth, with incredible properties. Perhaps they were just a myth but... then again, perhaps not.
With a bow of respect for the old man, the bard turned and walked out to set his plans into motion.
"Firewood?" he repeated slowly, making sure he understood the thick accent correctly. "Mastersmith, I would be glad to do that for you." All his running about the woods in fox form had given him a fine knowledge of a number of fallen trees, in fact, that would do nicely. He could do it himself, or trade songs and stories for other, stronger folks to bring him wood for the old man. But that wouldn't help his fingers, or the swelling likely in his other joints. No wonder he was so abrupt with people. If he was in constant pain all the time, Jigano knew he'd be no less snappish.
"I'll start tomorrow," he promised, mind already whirring with ideas. He'd start tonight at the Rathskeller, letting the folk there know that he was looking for tips and payment in firewood for awhile. It would take a day or two to start to accumulate like that, but it would free him up for an idea that was tickling his thoughts. He'd read about herbs in a labyrinth, with incredible properties. Perhaps they were just a myth but... then again, perhaps not.
With a bow of respect for the old man, the bard turned and walked out to set his plans into motion.
