Skorageirr, after having spent the night with some Icelandic merchants, makes his way into the tent. Will say, he tries to as right on the doorstep a lady bumps right into him. He utters something in the direction of "I am sorry" although he thinks it was not even is fault.

Oh… but isn't this the woman who shared his table the other night? He had no idea that she was so delicate, she only just reaches his chest and he is not exactly tall. Nice to see a familiar face around the place. He feels he should say something but – too late. She obviously did not notice who she ran into and just dashed off.

Well, he would look out for her. It was not so much fun being lonely, especially not with so much merriment going on everywhere….