[Laiudanama]

Trystan thanked Léofric, but he felt anything but thankful, sitting at the table the boy had led him to, torn as to do what to do, and feeling utterly trapped. He was inside the Inn now, true - but the morning was rather later than he had hoped to arrive at such a place, and was downright bustling with people moving too and fro about their daily business. By the commotion by the stables as they had left, and the general purposefulness of movement - aye, and indeed also by a fair amount of careful eavesdropping - Trystan gleaned that this Farahil character was leaving today. Well, at least that was some luck. Something about the man made Trystan uneasy: he would doubtless make an excellent ally, but he somehow doubted this was a man likely to be easily won over, and he was sure about one thing, that he would be a formidable enemy.

No. He didn't want to make enemies. He had just wanted to do what he always did: get in, grab a quick something to eat and maybe something to sell, and then lay low until it was dark so he could begin travelling again. But it had all been scuppered by that Léofric! He looked around quickly to find where the other had got to - and saw him talking to an authoritative looking figure, an elegantly dressed man standing with his arms folded in the doorway. The Lord Eodwine, would this be? He decidedly disliked the title assigned to this man: ‘Lord’s generally didn’t bode well for people like Trystan, and he could just imagine Léofric describing to his…his master?...the circumstances under which he had met Trystan. Well, my Lord, not to make him sound suspicious, but he was all crouched in one of the stables, a knife by his feet and a keen eye on this rather fine horse… Eodwine glanced around and Trystan looked quickly away, staring at his hands, his long fingers entwined around each other, although the main part of his right was covered with a dirty bandage.

‘Lords don’t like people like you’: and what exactly are ‘people like you’ Trystan? Thieves? Petty criminals? Or potential murderers?

Trystan felt the panic and fear rise in his throat once again, his mind snapping back to that gloomy house in Dol Amroth. It was an accident! It was never meant to turn out that way, he could swear it! Wrong place, wrong time, wrong bloody people to get involved with – way to go, Trys, this time you really messed up…

As a girl passed, he rose quickly, catching her by the arm, then quickly withdrawing his hand, not wanting her to get the wrong idea and call over this Lord figure. She was a pretty thing, possibly some kind of waitress or server, and of about his age, even in his panicked state Trystan couldn’t help but remark upon it in his mind, but there were other, more pressing matters to be thought of right now. “Ex…excuse me, ma’am,” he began, humbly – a little humbleness and charm never did any harm, especially with a pretty girl. “I…well, I was just wondering whether I could perhaps speak to the owner of this establishment, or…” he tailed off, his hand nervously straying to push hair away from a handsome, if probably rather dirty face, and hoped he didn’t look too foul. Glancing around, just to make sure no one else was within earshot, he decided to cut straight to the chase; leaning forward almost conspiratorially, he continued. “You see, I…well, I don’t actually have any payment with me, and, not liking to presume upon the kindness of your generous persons, I was wondering if there was some job or other that I could do or get, maybe just on a temporary basis, in exchange for a few nights of rest here?”

The girl hesitated, and Trystan saw he glance towards Eodwine. Drat: he had been hoping she would just give in and assign to him some easy gardening job or handy job, but apparently there would be no such luck. She came to a decision and looked back at Trys. “You’d best talk to Lord Eodwine, or Lady Saeryn, the Hostess, about that sort of thing. Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite,” she added with a slight smile; apparently some of Trystan’s worry had shown on his face. He had to be more careful about that – it was just tiredness, but he couldn’t let his mask slip, because the consequences of being found out really didn’t bear thinking about. Maybe later. First up, he’d indeed have a word with this Lord Eodwine – and no matter what he had said in his opening statement, the one thing he really didn’t want to do was blatantly draw the attention of any sort of nobility to himself. Unless, of course…

“Lady Saeryn, you say?” he replied thoughtfully, still watching Eodwine in the doorway carefully. “I shouldn’t like to disturb Lord Eodwine – may I ask where I may find this Hostess…?”