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Eodwine
It was a small room for two, very small for four to holding conference. Saeryn was standing on the other side of their bed, Rowenna to her right; both women were watching him, waiting for him to respond. Falco had propped himself against a wooden chest against the wall, fiddling with his pipe, casting his glance between the other three, apparently gauging each of them; he said nothing.
Eodwine suddenly felt exhausted. Maybe he had overdone it with Ginna and the smiths. He felt shaky again.
"I must sit down," he said simply. He lowered himself to the bed, trying not to turn his back to any of them. All three of them were now to his right and he had to turn his head to look at any of them. It felt like too much effort, so he let his gaze fall where it would, mainly upon the empty corner of the room between the door and Falco.
"Saeryn, done is done. Even if I wanted to be eorl - and I do not - the king's word is my bond. He commanded me and I gave him my word that I would do his will. So I am bound also by the bond of my word to both Eomer, and now to Athanar as well. 'Tis done. You may feel, of course, how you wish about it. Would you have me go back on my word?"
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