Eorling Mead Hall

[Firefoot]

As Léof walked down the stable aisle, he paused at Æthel’s stall to watch her much contentedly at her morning meal. “At this rate,” he commented with a smile, “you are going to get fat.” He said it in jest, but there was a seed of truth to the words. She did not get enough exercise; few of the horses did. To this fact Léof was growing ever more aware, and while he tried to remedy it, there was little he could do. Walking the horses up and down the stable aisle could hardly be counted as exercise, but the only other alternative would be to either ride or walk the horses through the streets of Edoras. What the horses really needed was a paddock, however small, where they could be let out of their stalls for even just a little while each day – but Léof did not know how to give voice to this idea.

He figured he ought to, though, and sooner rather than later. Later that day, he decided, or sometime after Eodwine gets back from whatever it is he’s doing.

He couldn’t do anything about it now, though, so he turned away from the stall with a soft sigh and continued down the aisle. He had seen to the horses’ larders, and now he was ready for some breakfast of his own.

Hardly had he left the stables, however, when he saw Trystan and felt obliged to say good morning. Léof was almost surprised that he had stuck around this long; he had been so sure that horse theft had been the other’s goal, and that with that not being achieved he would have shortly left. But there had been no further such attempts, leading Léof to wonder if he had imagined the whole thing in the first place. What was more, the knife had remained on the stable shelf, an enigma whenever he took the time to think of it. So Léof’s naturally trusting personality had eventually taken over, and his smile was perfectly friendly as he said, “'Morning, Trystan. Had breakfast yet?”

[Formendacil]

"My thanks, Kara," said Náin, accepting the roll. Now that he had someone to talk to, he showed no signs of departing immediately, but appeared in a mood to chat, if not to be shiningly cheerful. Over the course of two months, he'd grown familiar enough with Kara not to get too flustered in her presence, and he enjoyed the company of Frodides, whose no-nonsense and authoritarian approach to running the kitchen appealed to him.

"I envy you," Náin told Kara, taking the roll. "Able to work at your craft every day, producing these things of beauty- doing something useful and praiseworthy. I chafe at the delay between projects to occupy me, and Garstan is a worthy mason who needs little in the way of assistance."

"It's hardly all fun and games feeding the Mead Hall," said Kara, working at doing just that, flitting around at various tasks while talking. "People never stop being hungry, you know."

"I do not know how it is for Men," said Náin, "but Dwarves, for the most part, would rather put their hands to steady labour that taxes them, even taxes them overmuch, than to sit idle day in and day out. We need things to occupy our hands and our minds."

"Surely not only work can do that," said Kara, pausing after wiping off a counter. "Surely you can occupy your hands and minds just as easily at work as at play."

"Under normal circumstances, yes," agreed Náin. "But I have had more play and less work than usual, and I prefer to be productive. And there is only so much in the way of play to occupy a strange Dwarf in this city. Even after two months, I'm still a stranger to most of the city and lands outside this Mead Hall. The people and places that would entertain a local such as yourself are unknowable to me- at least without a guide. And, it irks me to say, most of those around me are better occupied with work than I am."

"Well, I would envy you rather than pity you," said Kara. "You're willing to help bake and cook, as far as I'm concerned- though you'd have to do exactly as Frodides told you, lest you find yourself boiling with the vegetables."

"No fear there!" Náin held up his roll-filled hand. "I have no talent in the culinary arts. Merely a great appreciation and taste for the craft." He bit into the roll as a demonstration.

"And this, I might add," he continued, "is most definitely beyond my abilities."

[Folwren]

Garmund seemed to struggle inside himself for a moment after Thornden asked his question. A clear expression of anger passed over his face for a moment. His little jaw tightened and relaxed and his eyes darted away briefly. But then he looked back at Thornden and asked a question the man was not at all expecting.

“Do you have a sister?”

“Well, yes, I do actually,” Thornden said, smiling a little. “Three, in fact. You have one, too. . .” Garmund nodded shortly. “Has she been causing you trouble?” Thornden asked. He kept his face carefully straight, not allowing any of his amusement to show. Siblings’ quarrels were not uncommon, as he well knew, but he figured it would be easily sorted out.

[Kath]

Kara had wondered whether Náin would be willing to talk, but once he'd settled himself onto a stool he had opened up. He spoke of his troubles finding something worthwhile to do, especially since his true skill was not much called upon here. In fact, for all intents and purposes, the Dwarf was bored.

Smiling in delight at the compliment he gave her, Kara dropped another roll onto his plate in thanks.

"Frodides is a good teacher, if you did turn your mind to becoming a cook I'm sure she would be able to whip you into shape soon enough. But lack of material or opportunity shouldn't cause you to turn away from the craft you excel at."

Náin nodded in agreement, mouth full of roll, and then swallowed to reply.

"Yet what is there for me to do?"

"Maybe you just need to find some inspiration. You say you want to explore this place, but you need a guide. Well, I can offer myself if you will have me. Frodides is back to full strength now, and the Hall is not so busy at the moment. All the building work has people looking for simpler meals, so I think my dear mentor could spare me a few hours of the week. What do you think?"

[Formendacil]

"What do you think?"

Náin had little hesitation in responding. If someone was willing to occupy his mind during his doldrums, he'd not be the one complaining. It was an unexpected gesture, from the Dwarf's point of view, though.

"I would gladly have your company and assistance in seeing and exploring Edoras and the close countryside," replied Náin, "provided that Frodides is as agreeable as you say. I would not upset so fine a cook! Nor would I wish to face the men of this hall were I to do so!"

Kara laughed. If anyone in the Hall knew Frodides well, it was her.

"Don't worry," she told him. "I'm equally willing to let Frodides get the same rests on the days when I'm working. And when there's not enough work to satisfy two cooks, things can get tense."

"In that case then," said Náin, with a grand bow, "I accept your offer with a good will. But I would be sure that you are as willing as you say! Surely, there are other things you could be doing in your spare time. Any family? Or interests other than the cooking which occupies you? Or a perhaps a young man? I would not have you spend your time on me if there are others with a better claim."

[Kath]

Blushing Kara shook her head. It seemed Náin truly had become comfortable around her. A month ago he'd barely have looked at her, and now he was asking for intimate details. She was glad though, awkward silences were not something she was overly fond of.

"I am as willing as I say, for if I were not willing I would not say it. I have no demands but this Hall to claim my time. My family is too far away for a single days travel and I enjoy walking and talking, both of which we would be doing. As to a young man, well, I believe potential suitors would be hard put to impress Frodides, who has appointed herself my local guardian."

"Perhaps she simply wishes not to lose you? After all, such a friend would take up much of your time." Náin spoke steadily and there was no trace of a smile upon his face, but Kara was sure she could hear amusement in his voice. She flicked her cloth at him in a manner she had unconsciously picked up from Frodides and turned his comment back on him, wondering if his natural inclination to shyness would come out again.

"Well then, with all the time we will be spending together she won't be taking to you much these next few weeks."

[Celuien]

Garmund took a moment to think before answering Thornden's question. Looking back, there was nothing he could remember that had caused him trouble. It was Lèoðern's spending so much time with Cnebba which irked him.

"Well, no. She's not causing trouble. But she's with Cnebba so much now. It used to be that just the two of us played together. And now they're always playing games and...and"

You're out. Lèoðern's words returned to him, and his voice trailed off. That was just it. Garmund thought that he was always left out.

"Yes, my lad?" Thornden broke in, encouraging Garmund to continue.

"And it's like they don't want me around anymore." Annoyance and frustration rang clearly in Garmund's voice. "Lèoðern was my sister before Cnebba ever came here. Now it's almost as if he was her brother and I'm not. Why can't it be the way it was before?"

[littlemanpoet]

Falco passed into the kitchen and snitched a roll on is way through, his quiet feet almost escaping the notice of the cooks before he was through the door. "Rascal!" Frodides cried at his fleeing back. But before him were other words in a different tone.

"Why can't it be the way it was before?" It was young Garmund.

"Why can't what be?" Falco interrupted, as if the conversation was his by right to intervene into. Lucky for him he was a hobbit, for Garmund seemed to find it easy enough to talk to someone of his own height, even if he was an adult. Besides, he had already been out with it once, or so it seemed, so Falco was all ears as he made quick work of his snitched roll.

"My sis used to play with me. Now she always plays with Cnebba instead."

Falco knew what was up right away. Such things were not reserved for children; they happened among full growns as well, at least back in the Shire they did as much as not, and probably more than most places as far as he could tell.

"Tell you what," he said conspiratorially to both Garmund and Thornden as he lit up his pipe. "Why don't we have our own fun, us three? We can have so much fun they'll want to stop what they're doing and join in on ours! What do you think about that?"

[Celuien]

The unhappy look about Garmund was slowly overcome by a sly grin. Falco understood what was happening and seemed to know just how to fix the problem. They would show Cnebba and Lèoðern for leaving him out over the last few weeks.

"I think that's just right," Garmund replied. He smiled, both happy to have found allies and relishing the idea of evening the score with Cnebba. For it must have been Cnebba more than his sister. Lèoðern, for all her eager ways, was little more than a baby, and would never think to leave her brother. Cnebba, though, would learn a lesson for causing trouble between Garmund and his sister.

Falco was blowing smoke rings and rubbing his chin. Probably thinking up a plan, Garmund decided.

"What should we do?" he asked.

[Thinlómien]

"We can outfit him as a soldier with no eyebrows raised, not even his own, but I would like to see Trystan dressed as an upstanding young man even off duty. Would you help me to clothe him in such a way that we are not merely approaching him with words that we disapprove of his poverty?" lady Saeryn asked.
"I'm at your service, my lady", Modtryth answered politely, giving the younger woman a warm smile. "That ragamuffin - as you put it, my lady - certainly needs new clothing." It seemed that young men were like boys, always lacking proper, fitting or not worn out clothes.

For a while, they just walked in silence. Modtryth let her gaze follow a sparrow hopping in the ground. I am to put him in Garwine's charge, for the time at least, the Lady's words echoed in Modtryth's head.
"He is to become a soldier then, my lady?" she asked.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn smiled softly. She liked very much to speak with Modtryth, who spoke so shrewdly, yet without the words needed by so many to carry the same message. Is he to become a soldier?

"Eodwine wishes it to be so, for now. The direction, I think, will be good for Trystan in the short term." And the long term? No... what comes will come. Eodwine will see sense, I'm sure.

"Do you not think, then, that he will take to it?"

She laughed. "Do you see him following the orders of another for very long? He does what I ask of him because, I think, he sees that I do not ask unnecessary things, or things that I would not do myself, and because I am the Lady here, and he listens to what Eodwine asks, but you can see, I'm sure, that he does it with considerably less than a soldier's stoic assent. The theatrics make me smile, but how many soldiers have we seen that flirt so shamelessly with everyone from young Kara to even Frodides? No, do not answer me that... I've heard too many stories to even think of my example as serious. But do you see my meaning? Trystan will act the soldier, because it is what is asked of him, but he is no soldier at heart. Not from what of him I've seen."

[Formendacil]

"Well then, with all the time we will be spending together she won't be taking to you much these next few weeks."

The thought had not occured to Náin yet, but it did so now with aclarity: if he was to go spending a good deal of time in Kara's company- during her hours of leisure, at that- then who knew what tongues might set about awaggling. He was single, she was single. And his being a Dwarf, rather than serving to insulate them from any nasty rumours, would most likely aggravate them and add to the scandal.

Náin could feel his cheeks turning red hot. This is nonsense! he told himself. You're predicting scandal long before there is any. And it's not as if you were planning to be acting any way less than perfectly decorously. She's not even a Dwarf, after all! Besides, you've already accepted her offer.

Náin looked up, and saw Kara looking at him queerly. Did his face show his thoughts so transparently?

"That, er, really um... grieves me," said Náin, stumbling over his words, something he hadn't done in front of Kara in weeks. "I'd much rather remain in Frodides good cooks- books! Not cooks, books!"

Hands clenched firmly behind his back, where they wouldn't fidget or shake, Náin attempted to master his stammering speech.

"Well, if you are willing as you say, I shall be pleased to accept. When do you anticipate having a day to take off?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Degas found himself in a dark space and a small fire lit his strong features, bronzing his light skin and fading the few freckles, the remnants of his youth, into obscurity. The dancing light made his dark red hair show golden at times, darkest black at others. It was the bright of late morning out of doors, yet the shutters were closed and only sickly cracks of light fought their way through.

He sat back in an old wooden chair, feeling the carved knot work dig into his left shoulder. He shifted, spilling a little of his wine. He clenched his jaw a little and wiped his hand on his breeches. The small wooden goblet he held had been emptied a few times since he'd walked away from Fenrir.

"Boy, you'll want to stop this foolery."

Degas glared and his eyes burned hot with angry tears. The old man had greeted him silently, opening the door and stepping to the side, letting Degas come past him. He'd poured wine into his own cup and handed it to the young man now sitting, head in hands, in the chair his son had made him long before Degas was born. He'd silently poured more wine as the cup emptied, waiting.

And his first words to Degas were those. Degas felt his cheeks flush in shame.

"Faesten, how? What do I do?" The old man had not heard such desperation since the red head was barely into manhood, trying to find the will to leave a home in which he could not stay. He'd listened then, just as he did now, hearing everything that was not said.

"It would be a good beginning to set the cup down." Degas laughed hollowly, but he did it, looking into the shadows toward the aged voice.

He saw the heavy outline of a cloak. He hadn't been so frail the last time, had he? It had been several years... The fire was warm... or was it the wine? The old gravel of his voice was still strong, his hands were still calloused. But he seemed thinner.

"You've grown." the old man commented wryly, seeming, as always, to read Degas's mind.

"Were you always so small?"

"Watch your tone, boy. I'll lay you flat as I did so long ago when you thought to play Riders and Orcs with yourself as orc and my wife's fresh pies as plunder."

Degas laughed legitimately this time, though his tone remained distant.

"Faesten, he'll deny me my inheritance. You know as well as I that he has the means."

"Does it mean so much to you, money and land? I thought you were to be a travelling musician. I thought you were to wander happily, all your days, paying room and board with news and song from faraway lands. Has the romance left it? Have you felt the cold bite of wind alone on distant roads with no warmth in sight and no thought for comfort but far away dream?"

"She's a princess."

"A she. A princess. The queen's lady cousin?"

"You know too much."

"Old ears hear clearly when folks forget them."

"I cannot hope to woo her with no copper to my name. How can a man raise a family with no inheritance when all that he knows how to do, all that he's ever done, is no life for any lady, but most especially not one such as her.

Linduial, Linduial,
Your skin so Elven fair,
Linduial, Linduial,
With starlight in your hair,

You travel long, you travel far
Across so many lands
And with you, though you know it not,
My heart... 'tis in your hands..."

Faesten looked at Degas with pity, stepping forth from the shadows, placing an old, gnarled hand upon his shoulder. Degas placed his hand over it and wept for a time, and they were silent.

After a time, Faesten spoke again. "Degas, you have been as a son to me for many years. A choice is before you: will you make it?"

Degas met his friend's eyes levelly, and though his hands shook, and his voice with it, he spoke honestly. "I will not sacrifice my sister's love for my own. She will not return home by me. Though I should have nothing save my body, I would not ask her, nor even ever mention it, to return to Fenrir. I will bid my farewell to the lady in my dreams, the white lady of my heart, and I will play for her when she is wed to a better man, if she will consent to have me as her humble musician."

"You do what you think is right."

Degas looked startled. He stood now, swaying only slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean only that you can do only so many things before you must let things to the winds and hope the storm dies down quick, boy. Did you think, mayhap, that the lady may have a thought of her own on the matter? Did you think, mayhap, that you ought to share with your sister your thoughts? I doubt it much, but that is your own business. You have chosen, and it is a noble choice, but its rightness may only be seen in time."

"Faesten, I would have you tell me what to do. I cannot do it alone."

"No. You cannot."

[littlemanpoet]

"What should we do?" Garmund asked eagerly.

Falco puffed on his pipe, thinking a moment about the possibilities. He eyed Thornden briefly, who seemed to be about as eager to find out what Falco had in mind as was Garmund.

"Well, you see, Garmund, there's this old ruin just outside of Edoras proper that I'd like to go see again, and it's no good going to such places alone because who's there to share it with then? But if the three of us go, we can share our finds and keep safe into the bargain."

Garmund's eyes had been widening with eagerness. Any child loved ruins. Thornden's brow rose but he kept his peace for the moment.

"So what we need is to go find your pa and ask him if I can take you with Thornden and me, and we need a couple of mounts too. So I was thinking that Thornden could get Léof to ready the mounts while you and I, Garmund, go talk to your pa. What think you?"

[Celuien]

"What think you?"

"I think that I can't wait to go and see the ruins. Let's go and find my father now." Garmund started to the door, so excited that he forgot to mind his footing and nearly tripped over a low bench.

Falco's arm darted out to catch the boy by the arm. "Steady there, Garmund."

Garmund laughed and began to ask Falco question after question about the ruins. The change from sadness a few minutes before to eager good cheer was striking.

They soon found Garstan, already at work in the new kitchen. Garmund and Falco quickly outlined the plan to visit the ruins.

Garstan put down his tools. He noted his son's excited face with no small relief. Garmund's spirits had seemed low of late, though Garstan had been unable to find the cause of the trouble. Whatever the reason, this trip with Falco and Thornden looked to be a cure.

"Of course you may go," said Garstan. "I ask only one thing."

"What is that?"

"That you, Falco, and Thornden tell all of your tales from the day over supper tonight."

[littlemanpoet]

"You ask a Hobbit not to keep a tale of his own small doings of the day to himself?" laughed Falco. "Might as well tell a dog to dig or a horse to gallop or a cow to chew cud or-"

"I think Garstan takes your meaning," said Thornden, grinning.

"Ah yes, of course he does." Falco turned to Garmund. "Shall we go see how Thornden and Léof are doing in the stables?"

"Yes!" Garmund cried, and was off at a run toward the stables.

"Mind you keep him safe, Master Boffin," called Garstan to the Hobbit's receding back.

"Upon my honor, Master Garstan," he cried over his shoulder. "You may be sure of it!"

It was not long before Thornden's horse and Falco's pony were ready for riding. Thornden took Garmund up to sit before him, holding the reins, even, and soon they were trotting merrily through the eastern edges of Edoras, in the general direction of Gondor. Falco suggested to Garmund that the ruins lay near that great kingdom, and Garmund talked excitedly of how they were going all the way to Gondor to see the greatest ruins of them all, this very day. Falco did not correct him, but described the ruins in the most exaggerrated of terms. Thornden, who had seen the place, grinned and kept his laughter at the jest to himself.

[Nogrod]

Stigend dacided to straighten his back for a second before taking on the next log. Glancing around for the children he noticed that Garmund had disappeared. Lèoðern and Cnebba were playing together at the back of the going-to-be Alder court.

Both Stigend and Modtryth had noticed that some tensions had been building up between the children but they had always been too busy or not having an unforced situation to take that up with Cnebba. Maybe I should have a word with those two right now? I could do with a little break anyhow, Stigend thought and started walking towards the children, stretching the jammed muscles on his back as he went.

“So, who’s leading?” he addressed the two as he reached them and sat down to the ground beside Cnebba. Both kids looked to him, but before Cnebba had time to open his mouth, Lèoðern already answered: “I am! Cnebba only has two left!” With that she produced an irresistible smile. Stigend couldn’t but smile back to her. She really is charming little girl.

He took a look at his son and gripped him softly from the elbow. Aloud he said: “Don’t lose your concentration, Cnebba, or you lose the whole game”. Cnebba turned his face downwards and didn’t dare to look at his father but instead started ripping off some grass from between his legs. Stigend knew that Cnebba was fairly good in the game the children were playing. When they played it together, Stigend rarely had to fake a bad throw to keep the game even. Letting the girls win now aren’t we? So, he has seen me faking and uses the same method, I see.

As Cnebba avoided his eyes, he turned casually towards Lèoðern and asked her, like in passing: “Where’s Garmund? I thought I saw him a while ago here but I haven’t heard your dad come around to call for him.” Now it was Lèoðern's turn to start avoiding his eyes, picking hairs from her dress. There was clearly something wrong here.

Cnebba opened his mouth to help her: “Garmund lost the game and got angry for it! We don’t know where he went”.

Stigend looked at his son to the eye for a while until Cnebba ducked his gaze again. He took a bit firmer grip on his elbow and after a moment’s silence he said, looking at both of them in turns. “One should not take games that seriously”. Both children lifted their heads slowly and carefully to see what was to follow. “But was it just losing the game you played a while ago that made him angry?” He took again a bit tighter grip from Cnebba’s elbow and looked now straight into his eyes quite seriously: “Was it a fair game today?”

Cnebba tried to turn his head away but simultaneously Stigend let off from his elbow and grasped his chin with his hand. Slowly but firmly he turned Cnebba’s face to meet his own. “Have you been fair to Garmund? Answer me, Cnebba”.

“But we have such fun together!” Cnebba tried to answer, as a tear started forming in the corner of his eye. He wasn’t sure what was it exactly that he had done wrong this time although he had a faint idea of it. But what he knew for sure was, that if his father acted like that, then he was serious and he himself had done something wrong. Cnebba tried to escape the situation, but his father’s eyes were nailed on him and he couldn’t get away. So he just bursted to words.

“I mean... I mean Garmund is nice but he is so often working with Garstan and then we get great games going and then when Garmund comes back we need to explain him everything and still he doesn’t understand the game as we do and then we must correct him all the time and...” Cnebba had to draw a breath but Stigend didn’t let his eyes go.

“And Garmund’s adventures are always the same. Cnebba has funny new ideas that are nice!” Lèoðern put in, trying to help Cnebba.

Stigend glanced at Lèoðern and nodded slowly while thinking. Then he turned to Cnebba and asked calmly: “Answer me in earnest, Cnebba. How do you find Garmund’s ideas? Always the same or quite new and fun?”

“I’ve never heard many of the stories he tells while we play adventures”, Cnebba managed to mumble, his head down again as his father’s eyes had given him a chance to escape by looking the other way for a while.

“Alright you two. I understand what you mean and I hope you understand it too. But how do you think Garmund feels about this? It’s not his fault that he has to learn the trade. But when he comes from his duties you start to scorn him, right? How would that feel if it were you Lèoðern, or you Cnebba?”

“I’m sorry dad. I hadn’t thought it that way...” Cnebba said slowly, his voice trailing off a bit. As Stigend glanced to Lèoðern he thought he was seeing small tears in her eyes too.

“You should tell that to Garmund, and make an apology to him, I think. You know, it’s always easier to lose a friend than to gain one.” Stigend made a little pause, watching the two children fighting for courage to look at him and enduring the shame they had found in themselves. “And the sooner, the better, I say. You go and find Garmund and tell him you are sorry and make it a jolly reconciliation. And if all this is settled after the working-day is over, I’ll promise you a little game of adventure with me. Maybe I could talk Garstan over to join us, and Modtryth perhaps...” With that he noticed that both kids raised their heads and a flash of joy was to be read on their faces.

“Really dad? Mum would come too?” Cnebba asked. “My dad too? We all?” asked Lèoðern in turn.

“I quess it could be settled. But I can’t promise it.” Stigend answered them, smiling now heartily to them both. He rose up patting both gently to the shoulders as he rose. “But at least I will come with you and plan an adventure anyone of you will not forget!” With that he winked an eye to both of them and straightened himself up. “Now you two have something to do and I have also. I hope to see you all three in the evening as friends again!”

Stigend turned and started back towards his site. I must discuss this whole issue with Garstan, and with Modtryth. Maybe it’s time for Cnebba to start learning the trade too?

[littlemanpoet]

"I give you good greeting, Eomer King!" Eodwine bowed deeply.

"Greetings Eodwine, my new Eorl. I had hoped you would bring the Holbytlan with you, the one who claims to have saved your life, Master Folc- Folwi-"

"Master Falco Boffin."

"Ah! Those Shire names are passing strange!"

"He did as he claims, lord, and I did not think to bring him. Forgive me. He would have liked to come."

"Forgiven! Bring him next time. What brings you to Meduseld?"

"Fear that you would beggar yourself out of kindness to me, lord."

Eomer allowed a half grin as he eyed his Eorl. "I think I can guess what you will say next, but I wish to hear it from you."

"Lord, you have given me Edoras and land fifty miles long from north to south and fifty miles wide from west to east. All of it did pay tithe to the king. Now the tithe comes to me, and you get but a tithe of the tithe! You have cutt off your own wealth from your hand!"

"I keep the wealth from East and West in my own hand, Eodwine. You have a new weal from my hand that has not been done before among the Eorlingas. I am testing a new thing to see how it works, and you are my Woses Hog."

Eodwine blinked, tilted his head, and squinted from one eye. "So you are giving me your wealth to test me? Why? ....if I may be so bold?"

Eomer chuckled. "Not testing you, but a way of holding lands."

"What way is this?"

"It is to hold all one's lands in fief to local eorls, and to get tithes from all of them."

"But then you get only a tithe of a tithe and beggar yourself surely!"

"Yes and no. I do get a tithe of a tithe, and if the lands stay as they are it would be beggary to me. Tell me, Eodwine, how much of the Middle Emnet is farmed? And how much of it is fen, bog, marsh, unused, or horse pasture and paddock?"

"The numbers of our fold are not great for we have often been at war with Dunlending or orc, or even woses; much of the land that could be farmed is not."

"And much is pasturage for the steeds of the Eorlingas," said the king. "Some day our fold will learn that warring costs more than it gains, and that the land is enough to enrich us."

"Where has the king learned these new thoughts?" Eodwine ventured.

"From Elessar and Imrahil. And Lothiriel my wife."

Eodwine nodded. It was as he had thought. Marenil's newfangled ideas came back to mind, as things he would rather do without, and here was his king speaking of the very same thing. He swallowed and cleared his throat. "We are close to the land, lord."

"Close enough to turn fen, marsh, and paddock aplenty to cropland? I want you to understand these things so that you can see for yourself how they may be made to happen. I have land to give you so that you can put this to the test."

"Lord?"

"Sorn's land is forfeit to me because of his crime. I give it to you."

Eodwine was dumbfounded for a merest moment. "And I give it back to your forthwith, lord!"

"No, Eodwine, you shall not. Use the land. Move there with your household. That old inn is too cramped for the Eorl of the Middle Emnet, though you have done much with it already. Sorn's land will make a fine estate which, as it turns out, is in the very heart of the Middle Emnet, where you should be."

"But folk do not go there, lord."

"They will when you are there."

"Would you have me a day's ride away? Out of sight and mind to do as I please whether you like it or not?"

Eomer smiled. "Bold words. But I picked my first Eorl well. I trust you, for you are trustworthy."

"Are you commanding me?"

"I could. But I do not. Think on this. Return to me in a month and we will talk of it again. It is not something that must be done all in a rush. Now, is there anything else?"

"No, lord. You appear to have matters well in hand, far more than I credited you with, and much more well in hand than I."

Eomer laughed. "Ah, but I have means that you lack. Speaking of which, the queen wishes to speak with you when you leave my court."

"Oh? About what matter?"

"I know not, though I will learn soon enough, no doubt. There is another thing. Haleth!" The king's chief guard came forth holding a small pouch, which he gave to Eodwine. "Take it, Eodwine."

He opened it. Inside was a broad gold ring, etched around with galloping horses, nose to tail.

"In honor of your aid in winning back the queen's cousin."

"My thanks, lord. 'Tis doubtless a small fortune!"

"And well placed. Now tell me before you go, what is your ensign to be?"

"It is to bear a white horse, a white lyre, and a white alder tree on a green field, the horse to upper left, the lyre to upper right, and the alder tree beneath."

"You have made me curious. Tell me what these things mean."

The conversation whiled toward noon, and Eodwine had had a luncheon repast with the king before he went to see Lothiriel.

[Thinlómien]

"But do you see my meaning? Trystan will act the soldier, because it is what is asked of him, but he is no soldier at heart. Not from what of him I've seen."
"I'm sure you're right, my lady", Modtryth replied, though she was not so sure. She, however, did not question the decision, she trusted that lord Eodwine and lady Saeryn had better knowledge to make their decisions from than she had. Besides, it was not her place.

Things will manage, in one way or another, she told herself. That was, actually, a motto of hers.

"It seems that children are not here at the yard, my lady. I will have a look inside; are you still willing to accompany me, my lady, or do you have more pressing duties?"

[Kath]

Biting her tongue to keep from laughing had given Kara's face a strange expression she knew, but it was better than letting it out and causing any offence to Náin, who was stumbling over his words as though this was their first meeting again. She knew it had been cruel to suggest such thoughts to him, but the mischevious streak she had always retained had reared it's head.

Eventually the Dwarf managed to pull himself back together and got a full sentence out.

"Well, if you are willing as you say, I shall be pleased to accept. When do you anticipate having a day to take off?"

"I don't entirely know." Kara mused. She knew she was free to choose what time she had off, but within reason, and only if she wasn't needed for something important. "It might be wise to wait for Lord Eodwine to return as he may not be pleased to find a cook missing if he comes back with guests. Shall we say that if he returns alone and with no need for an extra cook we will go exploring the day after?"

[Folwren]

The horse trotted merrily along over the gold-tossing grass and Falco’s pony kept up a steady, loping canter just by their side. Thornden had his arm wrapped securely about young Garmund’s waist to keep him from bouncing too high. He wondered how the lad was getting on – surely such riding would get tiring – but Garmund didn’t seem to mind, and often he laughed with glee and excitement, and begged to go faster.

In half an hour they reached the place of the ruins. It was among the foothills of the mountains, small hills rolled about them. They reached the place by a rare-used path, overgrown with grass and weeds. Before them, the high, rocky back of a hill rose, and at it’s base, trees and bushes grew. Thornden and Falco brought their mounts to a stop. Thornden swung down from his horse and then reached up to help Garmund down. The boy nearly tumbled out of the saddle in his excitement. Scarcely had his feet safely touched the ground that he looked about him excitedly.

“Are we there? Where is it?”

Thornden laughed as he turned to his horse. “Oh, they’re here alright. Falco, if you like, you can take Garmund on. I’ll tend the horses and follow you.”

Falco seemed happy enough with this arrangement. He left his pony where he stood and beckoned Garmund to follow him as he turned towards the tangled mess of bushes and little, shrubby trees.

“There in here,” he called. Garmund ran to catch up.

Thornden smiled as he watched them go, disappearing into the brush, they were both so short. He chuckled and set to work unsaddling the horse. No knowing how long they’d be there. . .

When both of the animals were unsaddled and unbridled, left to wander and graze at will, Thornden turned to follow the hobbit and boy.

[Folwren]

At the same time that Thornden was wading through a bunch of bushes, a fair haired, merry looking young woman was riding up towards the entrance to Edoras. Near her rode another figure, a boy, scarcely thirteen summers, if that. They both looked eagerly forward at the city built upon the hill.

“Here we are, Javan!” she called brightly to her companion. Javan urged his horse forward to her side.

“Do you suppose he got your letter? And is expecting us?”

“Oh, yes, I’m quite sure of it,” Medreth responded, for Medreth it was, Thornden’s sister, and his youngest brother rode with her, too. “I sincerely hope he hasn’t forgotten,” she added after a moment’s pause. “If he has, I don’t know what I shall do.”

“Probably knock his head in,” Javan responded knowingly. “I hope he hasn’t forgotten, too.” He didn’t say why, but his eyes sparkled with anticipation. He hadn’t seen his brother for nearly a year and was quite looking forward to the meeting.

In a few minutes, they reached the gate of the city and passed through. Medreth stopped her horse and turned towards one of the guards standing there.

“Excuse me, but could you tell me where the Hall of Eorl Eodwine is? I understand it used to be the White Horse Inn?” Yes, the guard knew of it, and in a moment, Medreth had acquired directions to the place. She smiled and thanked him and she and her brother went on.

In little time at all they reached the mead hall. With a clatter of hooves against the stones, they came into the courtyard and rode to the stables. Medreth dismounted in one swift and easy movement. She took the mare’s reins in her hands as she looked about her with curiosity. Her bright blue eyes studied the building that must be the hall, now apparently busy being added onto. A tug on her rein reminded her of the task at hand.

“Javan,” she said absently without turning. “Will you find the ostler or somebody to take the horses?”

“Sure thing!” Javen replied. He slipped off the horse, pressed his reins into Medreth’s extra hand, and walked into the stables to find the ostler.

[Taralphiel]

The floorboards were cold and damp, and Lys shivered. It was not with discomfort that he looked at his feet pressed to the floor, but joy. Lys had made almost a full recovery since being brought into the Meal Hall. The gash on his head had healed, and only a small scar near on eyebrow remained. He had recovered enough to sit up in bed without his ribs giving out jutting pains, and all that was left for him to discover was the healing of his ankle.

Hrethel stood nearby, gently patting his hips. He smiled over at the boy, watching his nervous expression. He chuckled and cocked out his knobbly elbows, wriggling them and saying with a wink “I may not look strong, but I’ll give my best should ye fall! Now don’t be nervous, young Lys! Your ankle is strong and healed well! All that should remain is a limp and a pain, and I’m afraid both will linger given how poorly ye came to us…”

Lys took a last look up at Hrethel, before placing his hands firmly on the small mattress and pushing off. Pressing and straightening his knees, he felt a momentary panic before he found he was standing quite prefectly on his own. Hrethel had not moved to catch him, but stood and clapped, nodding and bending to peer at how Lys stood on his poor foot. Lys smiled, and began to take a few more steps, before his legs began to shudder, and he let out an involuntary wince. This would be the lingering pain, Lys thought quietly. It was manageable, and Lys was grateful for that. Turning carefully on that foot, he faced Hrethel and beamed.

“Thank you Hrethel! I have no means to repay you, save a deep wish in my heart to help you in any way I can. I hope I can be of service to you in some way…”

Hrethel gave Lys a gentle pat on the shoulder and and pointed to the door, holding out his arm for Lys to take. “For now, young man, you can walk with me and help me find Master Thornden! I am sure he will be happy to see you up and about. And as ye’ve told me no fewer than a handful of times, he owes you for a missed dinner outing!”

Lys bit his lip as Hrethel mentioned this ‘dinner outing’. True enough, Thornden had been unavoidably taken from his promise. That evening was hard on Thornden, and after all the nightmarish weeks Lady Linduial was captured, Lys could not hold blame to him very long. Still, his disappointment could not be contained. He had told Hrethel about how much he had wanted to be seen out of his room. Out and about with people that had only known him as the ‘sickly boy in Thornden’s care’…

This thought lead Lys into a cascade of others about the kind man that had rescued him. Thornden had sat along with him and cared for him quietly. Always listening when needed, always keeping Lys informed of all the events of outside. Rarely did Thornden asked questions that were hard for the boy, and this relieved him greatly. Since Thornden had found him broken and bundled in his fine quilt, Lys had not remembered any of his past, nor any more of the events that left him in that state. And now, a month or more later, Lys had now resigned himself to gladness. Whatever his mind hid from him, must be hidden for a reason.

The door creaked open, and Lys noticed the bustling of the regular worker’s about the Mead Hall. Lys smiled as the young lady that brought his meals briskly walked past. She slowed and grinned widely, nodding respectfully to Hrethel. Lys couldn’t help an overjoyed laugh as he turned from her, and headed in the direction of the hearth.

“All the Hall will marvel to see the young lad we’ve kept hidden up in his room. I say you looked like a broken boy’s toy when I first set my healing eye on you. Now, it does this old heart good to see such happiness on your face…”

Lys slowly pressed foot to floor, as he began to learn the sensation of walking again. But it took only a small time for him to get weary. Taking the young boy to sit on a small bench enough for them both, Herethel sat by Lys and patted his knees contentedly. “Aye, a fine day! We shall make a small trip of it, you and I. I cannot see Master Thornden about, but he shall return yet! For now, let us enjoy the sun!”

With that Hrethel began to give Lys a small tour of the Mead Hall, complete with an ending in the courtyard in the sun. This seemingly small trip took the two a fair while, and not for that reason of Lys alone. There were more complaints from the healer about sore bones than from his patient.

Lys sat in the sun and breathed in deep. It felt wonderful to have the full sun on his face and the smell of baked bread wafting into his senses. He felt freedom like he had never remembered it before. And for some reason, that did not lead him to despair. Strange comfort was all he could feel.

[littlemanpoet]

Falco led Garmund into the tangle of brush and trees. Vines crossed from tree to tree, making for a thick tangle that reached at least twice as high as Thornden's head. It was not easy going, even with the remains of a path. In point of fact, somewhat to Falco's mild suprise, the path seemed to be less overgrown than he expected.

"Ah! There. Have a look at that, Garmund!"

"It looks like a little bit like Náin," Garmund said.

It was true, after a fashion. It was a stump of grouted stone, or rather layer upon layer of old, old stone with the grouting slowly by slow age rotting and falling away.

"Or a little like an old giant's chipping molars and gums, only sideways," Falco said. "And there's more of it over that-a-way." Falco pointed.

Vine strewn and matted with moss, the dwarvish looking stone column before them grew into a wall of varying heights to their right. Garmund got his hands into the middle of it, touching the old stone, and looked back at Falco.

"How far in does it go?"

"Let's have a look. The path leads that way."

As they passed beyond the first wall, Garmund in the excited lead now, Falco thought that he caught something moving out of the corner of his eye, but a second look revealed nothing. Maybe Thornden's looking over that way and I caught but a glimpse of him. But that didn't seem right. Probably nothing. Falco shook off the jibblies and followed Garmund.

[littlemanpoet]

"Explain your arrangement with the Lady Saeryn, Eodwine." Lothiriel the queen was seated in a chair lined with soft furs. Waterbowls in which floated flower petals, lit beneath by candles, rested upon small wooden tables in each corner of the room, filling the air with the warm fragrance of mixed rose, lavender, and apple.

Eodwine was standing before her alone, her ladies in waiting having been dismissed. He was suddenly very ill at ease, having expected thanks for rescuing Linduial, only to be confronted with this.

"She is," he paused, "my apprentice in the mead hall, doing all the things a Lady has authority to do."

"All things?"

Further discomfited, Eodwine wondered what the queen was implying.

"I beg your pardon, lady, but I fail to take your meaning."

"The Lady of a mead hall such as yours, Eodwine, would be understood to have wifely duties to perform to her lord's satisfaction. Does Saeryn perform these as well?" She held him with her eyes, having caught him off-guard with both subtlety and directness at once.

"No! I would never-!"

Lothiriel raised a hand. "The girl has no parents. It is known that you have made of yourself her guardian, which certainly is becoming of a man of your station. But it is said, Eodwine, that you treat her in all ways, seen by others, as a man treats she who is his betrothed. Eodwine, you cannot have it both ways. Are you the girl's stand-in father, or lover? What are your intentions?"

The situation had not been put to him quite in this way before. Seen in this light, it was obvious to Eodwine that things could not remain as they were. The queen was right. He was 'riding two horses into battle at once', as the saying went among the Eorlingas; and he had been blind to it.

"My queen, I have been a fool. And you have been most wise and discreet in showing it to me so pointedly yet gently." Eodwine relaxed, no longer on his guard; he had not been aware that he had been defending a castle, as it were, but having his confession off his chest made him see it. Not only had he been on his guard with the queen, but before all his household; for though he had not allowed himself to see the quandary of his position quite in the light Lothiriel had rightly shown him, he had known it to be the case deep down in the places of his mind where he put things he preferred not to see.

Lothiriel nodded once. "Foolish you have been, but wise to see it now. Folk do talk, and what they say is not what should be heard of the Eorl, true or not. What does your heart tell you, Eodwine?"

Eodwine imagined Saeryn in his arms; her eyes, full of love, looking into his, then closing as she drew near for a kiss. His blood heated with desire. Then he imagined her huddled by the hearthfire, wrapped about in furs against the cold, himself seated beside her, holding her gently as she leaned on him, trusting him completely; for tears slid down her face in worry for her brother Degas. He felt his heart go out to her in care and affection, with the protectiveness of a father; and he knew in his heart of hearts that it was right and best.

"My heart tells me to father her until she finds a suitable husband."

Lothiriel studied him before saying, "I did not advise you one way or the other, for I knew not which way your heart would speak. You would not be the first man of four decades to take a bride who could be his daughter, and both happy with the marriage."

"Yes, I know 'tis done, but when I think of her need first, the father comes to the fore in me."

"What if she feels otherwise, my friend?"

Eodwine allowed a small smile. The queen had changed the air between them with a word, 'friend'. "I know not, lady. What she feels may change over time, and I would not have her bound to a mouldering husband that she ceases to love."

"Although-" Lothiriel smiled.

"Although," Eodwine replied with increasing ease, assuming a more spreadlegged stance, his hands clasping behind his back, "as you suggest lady, she may grow in love for an elderly husband as the years live on. But I doubt me that she knows her own heart in the matter. Lothiriel, queen, I will tell her all my thought and ask her mind."

"I think you must. Now, if she says that she would espouse you, Eodwine, she cannot remain at the mead hall; she must come here."

The queen's words had come like a thunderclap. Eodwine stood stock still. Again, the queen was right.

"It is as you say, my queen."

After he had taken his leave of the queen, he considered. What did he want, Saeryn as beloved betrothed at a distance or as foster-daughter nearby? He did not want her at a distance, that much was sure; so it seemed that it was best to have her as foster-daughter. But what would Saeryn want?

[Firefoot]

Before any conversation with Trystan could really be started, Thornden had come to the stables requesting horses saddled. Léof had smiled apologetically and left, and by the time he had finished Trystan was gone again. He shrugged to himself. It wasn’t as if there had been anything in particular that he had wanted to say.

His stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him that he had yet to see to his own breakfast, but once more he was interrupted as a lad walked into the stables; Léof placed him at about twelve or thirteen years. “Excuse me,” said the lad, “but are you the ostler here?”

“That I am,” Léof confirmed as he approached the lad. “I am called Léof. Can I help you?”

He nodded. “My sister and I have just arrived… she’s waiting with the horses outside.”

“Then let’s relieve her of that duty, shall we?” said Léof, letting the other lead the way. “Will you be staying long at the hall?” he asked.

The lad answered vaguely over his shoulder. “A while.”

Léof asked no more until they emerged into the sunlight where, just as the lad had said, a woman waited with two horses. “Good morning,” Léof said and repeated his introduction. “Neither the lord of the hall nor his almbudsman is around at the moment, I’m afraid,” he continued, “but if you’re hungry, I’m sure the cooks would be happy to find you a meal, and if you’ll be wanting rooms or aught else, the Lady Saeryn can help you.”

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"I would accompany you, Modtryth, but it appears that guests have arrived and neither the lord nor Thornden are on hand to welcome them." Saeryn smiled, tilting her head toward the stables where a woman now gave her reins to Leof. "If you are willing, I would love to share evening meal with you and your family. If you'll excuse me?"

Without waiting for a response, Saeryn found herself beside the new woman. She caught her attention easily and clasped her hand, introducing herself politely and with a friendly wave to Leof and Trystan, now both inside with the horses.

"We are pleased that you join us for a time. How may I assist you?"

[Folwren]

Medreth beamed a brilliant smile as Lèof came out and introduced himself. A right fine lad, she decided. She handed the reins over to him as he extended his hand to take them and stepped out of the way of the horses.

“If you’re hungry, I’m sure the cooks would be happy to find you a meal, and if you’ll be wanting rooms or aught else, the Lady Saeryn can help you.”

“Thank you, I don’t think we’ll either food nor room just now,” Medreth said. “But where could I find the Lady Saeryn that you mention? Is she the lady of the hall?”

“She’s coming here now, ma’am,” Lèof answered, nodding his head towards the hall. “She’ll take care of you.” He smiled and left, leading the horses into the stables. Medreth turned and saw the lady walking towards them, a small, welcoming smile on her face. She extended her hand as she approached.

“Welcome! I am Saeryn. We are pleased that you join us for a time. How may I assist you?”

“I am Medreth,” Medreth replied. “This is my youngest brother, Javan. We’ve come for a visit. My brother Thornden lives here. I wrote him a letter a few weeks ago, informing him of my coming. Is he around any place?”

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"I am afraid he's only recently gone, Medreth." Saeryn responded quietly. "He's off on an adventure with a halfling and a young boy, and may indeed miss lunch of all things, but with the bellies of a boy, a man, and a Falco Boffin, you can be sure they will return in time for dinner."

Saeryn smiled and hoped that Medreth would prove amiable. It seemed a certainty with the sorts of people that found themselves guests here, but the man and woman yesterday... Saeryn sighed at the memory. A lord and lady, visiting their Eorl. Their glances had been shrewd, sizing. They'd looked her top to toe, and Eodwine the same, and Saeryn had not missed the glances they'd shared. Tongues had been wagging in both the city and countryside, that was certain. But no, best not to think of it. Medreth was Thornden's sister, after all, and Javan his brother. Surely folk of the same stock as a good man such as Thornden would not be so... so wretched and assuming! Saeryn fumed and knew that nothing she could do could save her from gossips.

She'd briefly considered ways to protect Eodwine's honor, but her leaving was no such way, and nothing she could think of in staying would fix matters either. She sighed again before forcing her mind back to Medreth.

"I am sorry, my mind wanders. Please forgive me. Might I have the honor of finding you lodgings? Perhaps a meal? Breakfast is long over now, but Kara and Frodides will surely have something delicious on hand. Perhaps midday is even ready."

[JennyHallu]

The messenger was near home, looking forward to his own home and wife and bed, when he rode into the busy courtyard of the Mead Hall. Only a few hours' more riding, and he'd be there, impressing his wife with the handful of silver he'd earned her, all for dropping four letters and a small package off in the hands of an old man here. He grinned to himself. There was, of course, no need for his wife to ever hear quite how pretty the young noblewomen who'd entrusted him with the letters had been, and how earnestly she'd given her directions.

He glanced down at the carefully written labels on each little packet. The woman's handwriting was graceful and flowing, and while the shapes of the letters held no meaning for him, as he'd never learned to read or write, he recognized the hand as lovely. He wondered fleetingly if it was difficult to learn, but set the thought aside. A frivolity, that would be, for a man such as himself. He needed no more than the word of mouth, such as had brought him news of his grandson, born to his soldierly younger son, who'd stayed in Gondor after the War of the Ring, with the pretty little dark-haired lass who'd snared him. Himself, he preferred blondes, but the babe was fair and healthy and long-limbed, and Imrahil had welcomed the young man into his own guard, into a prestigious position training his new cavalry...he thought of how pleased his wife would be at the news.

Quickly he shook himself back into reality. He waved off the young man from the stables, who had given him a quick inquisitive glance as he led two steeds away, and cast his eyes about for the man the lady had described. Dark hair peppered with silver, grey eyes, a strong but wrinkled face...the hair alone was enough to identify the man. Almost all the others in the yard were fair, and no one else carried this man's age. He rode towards and dismounted before the older man.

"Are you Marenil of Dol Amroth?"

The man nodded, standing stiffly. "Aye, goodman, I am."

"I bear these letters, then, from the Lady Linduial, who bids you greetings." He reached into his saddle bag for the package, and stacked the sealed missives neatly in his large farmer's hands before handing them to Marenil.

"My thanks," the man said softly, taking the letters and flipping through them, reading the delicate script, smiling at whatever was written on the package. "For your trouble."

Marenil dug in a pocket and pressed two more silver coins into the man's hand. The farmer sensibly did not protest that the lady had already paid him, mounted, and was off before Marenil could offer him refreshment.

Four letters, hmm? For Degas, Saeryn, little Leodern, and himself, and the package for Leodern. "That my dear squirrel might write me secrets" he read again with a smile. Her old copybook, then. So she still meant to carry through on her promise. Good. He sat back down. The hall was loud and busy, and a little more delay on delivery wouldn't hurt anything.

[Folwren]

Gone! Medreth couldn’t help the look of surprise that sprang into her face. Her eyebrows shot up and her lips opened partially. But in a moment, when Saeryin sighed quietly, Medreth came back to herself. A slight blush rose to her cheeks as she sincerely hoped she hadn’t offended the young lady. But a swift glance told Medreth that Saeryin’s attention wasn’t on her at all and the sigh probably had not been connected with her sudden, obvious expression of displeasurable surprise.

“I’m sorry,” Saeryn said after a moment. Her eyes again came back up to meet Medreth’s. “My mind wanders. Please forgive me. Might I have the honor of finding you lodgings? Perhaps a meal? Breakfast is long over now, but Kara and Frodides will surely have something delicious on hand. Perhaps midday is even ready.”

Medreth smiled merrily. She took a liking to this girl, just a couple years younger than herself. “Don’t worry yourself!” she said brightly. “I’m sorry to hear they’re gone, and I hope they do return before dinner time - I don’t want to stay that late. But for now, I would be delighted to go inside. I’m not hungry now, thanks, but perhaps later, when the rest of you gather for the noon time meal.”

As Saeryn turned, Medreth fell into step with her. She gave a side long glance at Saeryn, her curiosity roused by this young woman. The boy who’d come for their horses had said ‘Lady Saeryn’. Medreth’s mind, quick to pick up on this sort of thing, instantly connected her with lord Eodwine. But somehow it was wrong. Eodwine, she had heard, was not a young man - he had fought in the wars some years ago. But Saeryn was scarcely twenty! Not that is mattered too much, Medreth decided in a side thought, but how odd. Were they indeed married? If not, were they intending to? If that were not even being considered, it gave Thornden a lovely chance. A secret smile played on Medreth’s lips and she turned her head and face away briefly. She just had to know. But she couldn’t be too obvious. A question about Saeryn and lord Eodwine surely would be considered an innocent one, considering their titles, and it appeared to be the best place to start.

“Medreth, wait a moment.” Javan’s voice broke into her thoughts before she could address Saeryn. “If you’re just going inside, could I stay out here and go in and talk to Lèof?”

“Lèof?” Medreth repeated.

“The ostler chap.”

“Oh, yes. Go ahead.” Javan turned and trotted to the stables, disappearing within. Medreth turned back towards Saeryn when he had gone. They walked forward. “The ostler - Lèof, I guess - told me you were the lady here. Are you married to lord Eodwine?”

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn froze in thought, not pausing at all in stride. Surely not another? Surely not again?

"No, madam, we are not wed. It is a common mistake. I am aware it may seem fairly confusing, but my position as lady of this hall is nothing more than an apprenticeship of sorts. The lord has sworn my protection and he gives me work befitting my station while I live within his home. It does not keep minds from wandering or tongues from wagging, but that is our arrangement nonetheless."

[Celuien]

Garmund pushed through the brush, too eagerly wrapped in exploring the ruins to note the ease with which the vines yielded to his feet. Had he gone but a few feet to either side of his path, he would have been tangled in a deep overgrowth, untouched by any creature save maybe the squirrels and birds, for uncounted years.

The easy path ended abruptly in a screen of branches that hung in thick clusters before Garmund's face. He paused for a moment, puzzled. Had an animal made the path he had followed, it shouldn't have ended so quickly, and certainly not with this screen, which almost seemed to have been carefully draped in vines.

Garmund's excitement would not be stayed. He doggedly tugged at the branches and made an opening just large enough to allow Falco and him to pass. Garmund stepped through, and gave a sudden cry.

A round clearing stretched in front of him with a jagged stone wall at its center, curving into the remnants of a circle. Where the missing stones had fallen from the wall, they made mounds of earth and stone near the wall's base. All were thickly overgrown with the same vines.

But the ruin was not the only cause of Garmund's start. He ran to the center of the circle and pointed at the ground, where the remains of a campfire shouldered.

"Master Falco!"

The hobbit came through the screen of branches.

"Well, lad? Do you like the ruin?"

"Look! Someone has been here."

[littlemanpoet]

Falco and Garmund heard a soft noise of movement off to their right. A very large man came around a corner of the wall. He was dark of hair and his beard was unkempt. His tunic and breeches were ragged and full of holes. He leaned from the waist to the left, with a great burden on his back, apparently a burlap sack, tied around his neck in what appeared to be overly thick thongs so that his hands were free; they held nothing. His feet were bare and very thickened.

"My place this," he said in a gravelly, apparently seldom used voice. "Who be you?"

[Folwren]

Thornden in the Ruins

Thornden forced his way through the entangled underbrush, following the hobbit and boy as best he could. Soon after entering the thick growth, he struck upon a sort of path. It was hardly visible, to be sure, for the long, thin trailers of bushes and vines draped across it. But none of the stalks grew there, allowing anyone to pass easily with the growth brushing away from his legs as he went. Thornden felt almost sure that the other two had come down this way. Glancing to either side of himself, he thought they couldn’t very well have gone any other way. The thorns and vines were thick and prickly and would have been impossible for either Falco or Garmund to get through.

Walking quickly, he soon came to the screen of ivy and vines that cut forward progress off. He glanced down and saw the place where they had been forced apart to allow his two small companions through. He bent to enlarge it some, at least a little to give him some chance of passing through, and he froze suddenly in his action to listen.

It was a voice. A low, rasping voice. “My place this,” it said. “Who be you?”

It came from beyond the screen of vines, and the leaves were too thick to see anything through. Thornden quickly pushed and pulled away at the leaves and sticks to make the entrance a little larger before he forced his way through, bent over double. He emerged on the other side in a brief moment, squeezed and scratched. He blinked and pulled a prickly twig away from his face and hair. Then he looked up and once more he stopped all movement completely.

The stranger stood in full sight across the round clearing. Between him and Thornden near the exact middle of the space, Garmund and Falco stood, both staring at the man. The man’s eyes were fixed on Thornden, and Thornden’s eyes were fixed on him. They were roughly the same height, but in a single glance Thornden saw that beneath the tattered clothing, the man was broad and muscular.

As their eyes locked for a moment, Thornden saw a look of fear, and anger, spring into the man’s eyes. It was a like a fox who had been long hunted and finally, when it thought it was safe, caught up to again. Thornden’s breath caught in his throat and he remained very, very still. Would the stranger become violent and try to attack? If he thought he was cornered and in danger, he might try to defend himself without asking questions first. Would he speak again and give Thornden a chance to make it clear that they meant no harm?

[Folwren]

Medreth

“An apprenticeship! What fun!” Medreth said, smiling from ear to ear and laughing. “Put’s you in a fine way of things, doesn’t it? And it helps lord Eodwine, I’m sure. I can see where most people go wrong on their assumptions,” she went on thoughtfully. “Many people have too much time and don’t spend enough of it thinking well of people. I’m afraid I’ve offended you.” She looked half worriedly at Saeryn. The slight flush of red on her cheeks did not escape Medreth’s notice. There was a short pause. They came to the hall and Saeryn led the way inside.

Medreth walked forward, looking around her with great interest. Saeryn went on ahead several paces before stopping and turning, waiting for Medreth’s attention to come back to her. ‘This all very awkward,’ Medreth said to herself as her eyes traced the room. ‘Thornden, how could you do such a thing? Run off for goodness knows why when you knew I was coming! What I am to do, or say, and who am I supposed to talk to?’ She finally looked back at Saeryn.

“I’m sorry to have come so unexpected and add some burden to you,” she said. “I’m sure you must be busy, but I told Thornden I was coming and I was expecting to see him, then you wouldn’t have had to worry about me at all! But now he’s gone.”

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Oh please, dear, do not worry. I am neither offended nor burdened by you." Saeryn smiled, hoping that it would alleviate Medreth's worry. "I have several duties to fulfill today, but none immediately pressing and nothing of a nature that they could not be done while visiting or helping guests, or in your case and that of your brother, giving your relation to Thornden and my immediate like of you, friends."

Saeryn smiled again, leading toward the kitchen. She'd had a thought pertaining to the garden and wanted to hear Kara's thoughts on the matter. And to introduce new guests to the cooks first was only prudent, she thought with a hidden grin.

"Would you care to accompany me today? Or would you prefer to make your own way?"

[Folwren]

Saeryn’s simple and open way of speech quickly put Medreth at her ease again. She quickly explained that Medreth would not get in the way of her duties. “Would you care to accompany me today?” she then asked, leading the way across the hall. “Or would you prefer to make your own way?”

“I should love to accompany you!” Medreth replied. “We’ve hardly met, but I’m sure we’ll get along capitally together. Besides, I’d feel embarrassed and awkward if I walked around alone,” Medreth admitted. “First, though, please allow me to put away this riding cloak someplace. I’m quite without need of it now and the day is already too warm for it.”

[littlemanpoet]

Falco saw that the moment Thornden appeared in the enclosure, the man's face changed. At first the man had seemed gruff but curious, and not threatening. Now his face changed into a mask of fear and rage. Fear was apparently the stronger, for the man backed away and reached out a hand to the wall to steady suddenly unbalanced legs.

As he disappeared behind the wall through the way that he had come, it sounded as if something alive was in the burlap bag, something wanting to escape.

Falco did not wait a moment, but ran far more quickly than his gerth would have seemed to allow, to the way the man had left. He looked back when he had peered around the wall.

"Come!" He waved the boy and the man to follow him.

[Thinlómien]

"Mum, have you seen Garmund?" Modtryth heard Cnebba's voice from the other side of the yard. Now who was looking for who...

The boy was looking at her with a rare serious expression. Lèoðern at his side was looking at least as grave. Modtryth let the food be - there was something more important now - and asked: "What is it now, dear?"

The children glanced at each other. "We are going to apologise to him." It was Lèoðern who answered. Modtryth nodded and then smiled at the children. She thought it was not a good idea to start intorregating them as they were already on their way to apologise. She knew she'd find out what had happened later.

"I have not seen him after breakfast time", Modtryth told the children. "But Garstan might know where he is. Let's go to him. And after the whole thing is solved, you'll get some lunch."

Normally Lèoðern and Cnebba would have run to the stoneshaper, but now they walked, setting their pace to Modtryth's. They heard Garstan working inside the new kitchen.

Stepping in, Modtryth greeted Garstan and then pushed the children forwards.
"Dad, have you seen Garmund?" Lèoðern asked.