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Falco
Pushed himself too hard, was it? Sleeping death? Falco shuddered. That sounded like something out of the War of the Ring!
Saeryn spoke more brightly after young Javan put in his bit. It seemed the lad liked Eodwine well enough.
"Oh, don't you worry about my food! I was just paying my respects. After all, it's unnatural to both talk and eat at the same time, at least for sensible Hobbits! Not meaning to offend any Big People, mind you! But if I'm talking I'm not eating, and if I'm eating I'm paying full attention to my victuals! And so!"
With that, Falco set Léoðern back on her own two feet and laid into it again, letting them gawk all they liked.
But while he ate, he wondered about moving on to Minas Tirith. He stopped between mouthfuls, which was odd for even him.
"Say, have any of you a notion how long Eodwine is likely to last? I'd rather get to Minas Tirith with him still around, if you take my meaning. I'm not too keen on arriving just in time to watch a body-" his voice trailed off as Saeryn's eyes moistened and she put her hand to her mouth. "Um, that is, watch a body stay sick and not quite on the mend."
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