Your home and hearth had always been comfortable, but it was onlt after seeing the Duergar’s clanhold to you begin to realize just how nice they were. Your families nobility and position had gauranteed you such.
As you open the wooden door and pass the polished stone walls and floor covered in hand woven rugs you hear the sound of a shawmey from somewhere further within. It must be your brother practicing, as you can hear the piny notes and off time melody. You smile in realization that no matter how much he would treasure being a chanter, he would likely be more pleased with simply performing in the various bars and taverns across the stead. That of course would be unacceptable by societal standards due his lineage, but it would certainly make him happy regardless.
The lanterns are lit and as you enter the main living area you can see your father sitting with a pair of spectacles going over some writing he had been doing. He never allowed you to read it, but you had always assumed it to be some great poem or dirge. He glances up at your arrival, his spectacles nearly falling from his nose, “There you are my dear, I was worried after the meeting that something had happened.” He puts down his writing equipment and comes over to you. “That was quite a performance earlier, though I think a few of the Thanes were a bit upset,” in a tone that suggested he did not fully approve. He disliked surprises and what you had done earlier had shaken him more then he liked to admit. He knew he held little sway at court and hated seeing his protege’ garner any disapproval from the council.
"You look upset?" he says as if sensing something was amiss. "Please sit and we'll talk, I'm sure it will be fine," in a reassuring manner as if he would fix whatever was wrong.