Baldred leans foward, off of his wall. "Oh, but what then decides the worth of something that you can't slay with your sword, or that can't pick up a shield to fight with, such as talking, or a song? The worth is in what you say, and who you say it to. One could know a thousand superfluous words and spout hundreds of proverbs, but if there's nothing behind them then whats the point? One could jabber on for the longest time, but just adding more time gives no extra worth or meaning to it. And how do you know that you yourself was not one of the two I mentioned before, and that perhaps what I thought I knew about you is only confirmed by how you spoke up first? Or maybe not, how can you know? All that you can know is that I know, and that I know that you know that I know that you know that I know something that you don't suspect or realize yourself. But perhaps that last sentence made you begin to see why words can be a waste, especially on those who you know that will do nothing with them, or don't know who else might know what they don't know about what they do know, and how those who know what he doesn't needs to know what he does, but he doesn't know that either. Besides, why waste words on someone who might be dead by the next day, by your hand or anothers. Or maybe I only like talking to certain people, people who can keep up with not only knowing what I know, but knowing what they know that I don't know, which I need to know and they do know, and know that they should share what they know that I need to know with me, in case I know something myself that they need to know, which I know but they don't know, and thus what we don't know can become what we do know, and then we all know. Those people usually tend not to be people of your type or sort at all. Understand?" Baldred finishes with a quick gasp for air, before settling back into his lean, a crooked smile on his face.