Garanth scowled as she took him by the arm and led him back to the house. 
How did she always know what to do? 
Next to her he often felt like an illiterate child. Never knowing why not to do something until she explained it slowly and heavily pronouncing each word, or at least it felt like that. 
And when she did explain to him it then always seemed so obvious.
Shaking his head he smiled at her affectionately, silently marveling her beauty. 

Once he found Gron it seemed as if he had not shouted at all. He was eating his way through half a wheel of mature cheese and munching on a large apple all the while. When Garanth apologized Gron waved a hand and casually referred to it as love sickness.
Daruk had been injured least in the battle and was already looking back to normal, if a little tired.
His sandy blonde hair was tied back in a plait, and his beard was separated into six long braids. Each one about twice as thick as Garanth's thumb. 
He was garbed in simple breeches and a loose fitting top, the smell of alcohol plagued his breath. 
The others were nowhere to be seen, so Garanth could only assume they were being their normal reckless selves and exploring the local countryside.
Well...there was still Torkost, slumped miserably in bed, gazing at his leg, as if willing the infection to recede.
When Garanth tried to talk to him the old Dwarf gave him a glare that would have made Ves quake. So for Garanth it all but sent him flying out through the door.

After a while longer he felt too tired and pained to remain on his feet. But instead of returning to his bedchamber he instead made for Ves's study. If he was going to collapse anywhere he wanted it to be as close to her as possible. After all she made better bed company than Gron.