Karrlandren quit his sword forms smoothly.  One moment his body was moving through the complicated drills and rotes learned in his not so distant youth, and the next he was stepping to a nearby fence post to return his sword to itâ€™s sheath, realizing with a hint of chagrin that it was later into the morning then he had thought.  He had lost himself for a bit too long in his practices, letting his mind wander on unpleasant things as it was wont to do.<br/><br/>â€œDonâ€™t worry yourself, neighbor.  If you hadnâ€™t interrupted, I might well have been at it â€˜till noon or later.  Or at least until someone came along to shoo me out of their way.â€  He glanced at the open stable doors and the two young boys who earned a few coins mucking stalls and tending mounts.  They had been watching him for Gods knew how long already, wheelbarrows full of old hay ready to be carted off and dumped elsewhere.<br/><br/>He next stopped at a rain barrel beneath the eaves trough of the stable, splashing some of the night-chilled water on his face and shoulders, running fingers through his hair to help mat back the sweat slick mops.  â€œHave you learned anything as yet?  Of that Orc missive you acquired?â€<br/><br/>He turned to face Elandris finally, wringing callused hands together to help slough off skin scuffed and raw from his morning exercises, and to help loosen up his grip, hands stiff from the training.  He caught his breath quickly, his heart rate already slowing and returning to normal.