Trond sighs again, this time, one of relief escaping his lungs. He says nothing more though, a glassy look forms in his eyes, as he seems to be looking off in the distance into nowhere.
Yer ta give that man a heart attack me thought! the sword scolds. Ye've got rocks in yer head, me swear, girl. Ye'd do well ta listen ta yer friend's advice from time ta time, and this man be yer friend if'n he be anythin' else. He appreciates what ye all have done fer his town, and he has yer best interests in mind.
The sword grumbles a bit and adds, W'out proper guidance girl, yer liable to have brought us both before the Questioners. These types, they oppose all things o' an arcane nature. They think it a twisting o' the god's good graces. Now, like it or not that is what me mostly be now, and they would not take kindly ta ye if'n they saw me in yer possession, and knew me fer what I was. Ye'd be as bad in their eyes as that witch here in town that Ernest fellow hated so.