[Bêthberry]

OOC: Currently at the White Horse

It is midsummer, early morn on a glorious summer day in Edoras, Rohan. It is the 4th Age, year One (1432 by Shire Reckoning) and four years after the events of the War of the Ring. Éomer Éadig sits in the Golden Hall as King of the Mark, with his queen Lothíriel, whom he wed last year.

The current Innkeeper is a Rohan woman, Aylwen Dreamsong, who is currently away. Taking over for her temporarily is the previous Innkeeper and owner of the White Horse, Bethberry, a woman who was an Itinerant healer from The Old Forest, of illustrious parents if rumour holds true.

Cast of characters:

(Durelin_ Dureline and young son Loar

(Imladris) Goldwine the cat

(Kransha) Osric, old Rohirrim soldier
Sigurd, his nephew

(Nurumaiel): Leofan, stable master and his family
Frodides (the mother)
Liorning, her brother, a musician
Maercwen (seventeen-year-old lass)
Gomen (twelve-year-old lad)
Giefu (ten-year-old lad)
Mereflod (seven-year-old lass)
Deman (six-year-old lad)
Fierlan (six-year-old lad; twin to Deman)
Motan (four-year-old lass)
Middaeg (two-year-old lass)
Beorht (two-year-old lad; twin to Beorht)
Drihten (the bonny baby laddie)Leofan, stable master and his family

(Fordim Hedgethistle) Hearpwine, bard-in-training

(Snowdog) Hanasian, itinerant historian

(Memory of Trees) Arrya, an ill-tempered young woman, newly arrived

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Bethberry's post

Bethberry looked at the carefully written notes which Aylwen had left her. They were concise yet complete. In effect, they represented a small handbook on running an Inn and Aylwen's thoroughness brought a smile to Bethberry's face. She was satisfied, in an inexplicable way, to see how well the young woman had handled the many responsibilities and onerous tasks of running an Inn. This calmed her heart which so often these days seemed to find fault with those who had not known the sacrifices and sorrows of the struggle against the dark lord, and of how narrowly Rohan had come to being completely within his thrall?not that Aylwen was one of those. And now Bethberry was to be Innkeeper again, for a time, and not merely owner, as the young woman was called away to attend to urge concerns of her family. So be it. The Healer would once again be Innkeeper and try to maintain a pleasant, sociable face to the patrons. Be more patient, she told herself, with the youngsters such as Mae and Hearpwine and Gomen and Sigurd. Let them do their learning.

She checked over the list once again and went to the kitchen where she conferred with Frodides, who always seemed to have children underfoot but who yet seemed ably and calmly to provide the kind of food and drink which had brought the Horse great renown. Maybe not quite as tantalizing to the palates as the menus of old Froma, the Horse's cook in days long passed, who had his way with wines and ports and spices and fruits, but healthy and tasty nonetheless. Indeed, Frodides' cooking was fresh and flavourful, she knew herbs as well as Bethberry, and her soups were never a thin water but could put meat on bone. No patron ever left the Horse saying his belly was not satisfied, nor his body refreshed, with Frodides' fare. It was hearty fare, as hearty as her manner of raising her young.

Walking back to the Mead Hall, Bethberry immediately saw the young Mae approach the table with Hearpwine and Hanasian--approach somewhat needlessly, it seemed, for their table was full and they wanted naught.

What was that girl up to now? thought Bethberry rather uncharitably. She had not forgotten how the young girl had brought worry to her parents on the day of the Bards' Competition, nor of the perhaps unknowingly forward way she had danced with that young musician Hearpwine the night before here on the very boards of the Mead Hall.

Ai, him! He certainly thought well of himself, that one, yet he had taken gracefully to being passed over for the Competition and by all accounts had comported himself well in his efforts to develop his art. Bethberry had developed a habit of running memories through her mind these days while she attended to work.

Well, I shouldn't blame the girl. He played her a pretty tune and flashed many a handsome smile her way. Remember, Bethberry, Mae is young, said the healer to herself. Let her learn to hear the true tune and not the falsely pleasant.

Seeing the girl run off after whispering something to Gomen, who hovered near the table but hesitated to come forth, Bethberry herself approached the table, the only full table at the Horse this morn, and gently, hand on his shoulder, guided Gomen to join her. She enjoyed talking with Hanasian about the old days, comparing the tales he had heard with her memories of growing up in the Old Forest, and of the skirmishes between the trees and the hobbits long, long ago. And she felt some sympathy with Osric, too, worried about his nephew Sigurd, a worry he had let show on his face but had not yet divulged to her directly. Well, Bethberry, what likely tales can you draw forth from our travellers today if you would but give them a nod and courage to talk, she said to herself as she decided to join the table.

"Hail, stout-heated men. Have you room to entertain me this morn as my work is completed and I would hear what you have to tell of your summer's labour."

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