[JennyHallu]

The hall, which had been feeling uncomfortably crowded in the last few days, cleared out quickly. Marenil could hear Kara puttering about in her kitchen, the rhythm of Garstan and his son working in the great Hall, and Aeðel, busily caring for the boy Thornden had found earlier, but everyone else seemed to have gone to the Fair. Marenil had no complaint--it had been hard, these last few days, to deal with his grief while surrounded and hemmed in by so many people.

And in his room...well, there was quiet, and peace...but too much space. Marenil could see only how comfortable Enna and he would have found that room, together, and now he felt he should move to more bachelor quarters. It was the work of only a few minutes to return his meager possessions to his small chest and moved them down the stairs, though he was thankful the young healer was preoccupied while he did it.

He moved everything into a small empty room near Garwine's, and looked over the narrow single bed and short dresser with satisfaction. No fancy chair, no fancy wardrobe...just what he needed, and no more. He put things away quickly: clothes folded in the dresser, his boots under the edge of the bed, his cloak hung over one of the peg hooks on the back of the door. His pillows he placed back against the wall, so the bed could be used as a couch during the day.

Pleased with the closeness of the little room, he walked outside into the courtyard, stretching, and settled himself into an old chair from the Great Hall he'd snuck out of storage and onto the lawn the day before. It was a good day for quiet pursuits, despite the human noise from the fair that reached even this far into the city. People rushed to and fro in the road before the Hall, and Marenil settled back to watch them, warm sunshine soon lulling him into a comfortable doze.

"Eh, what?" He shook himself awake at the touch of a hand on his shoulder. A youngish man wearing the sign of the White Horse stood before him uncertainly. "What's the matter, now? May I help you?"

"I was hoping you're the man I was looking for. Master Marenil, head of Farlen's household in Dol Amroth?"

"Aye, that'd be me."

"My name is Erkenbrand, of the house of the King. I am one of his messengers. I have a letter for you." The man handed Marenil a thick bulky missive, sealed with blue wax and Farlen's seal. Marenil took it and looked back up at the man.

"Erkenbrand, eh? Are you the one in all those stories from the War?"

The man laughed. "No! No, the Marshal I certainly am not, though I've met him. Surely you've noticed how great men seem to leave namesakes in their wake like lesser ones leave debts. You should see how many Lothwens, Gimlis and some such have sprung up in the past few years. Even saw a Gimliwen once." The man saluted Marenil with a smile and walked off with a firm brisk step Mar's stiff, old bones envied very much indeed.

He opened the letter with a vague sense of dread. It seemed nothing but bad news had been filling his letters lately, and he didn't much look forward to the next one. A quick scan showed him it was indeed from his lord, and that Linduial had spent far too much of her coin in getting the news of his ill-health to her father. He'd scold her for it later...his doings were hardly worth that much money or urgency--but his musings quieted as he read more closely.

Fifteen minutes later, Marenil lowered the letter with a sigh and stood up. Free...all oaths held filled many times over. The bulk had been from a new signet ring, this identical to the Lord's own, as sign and reward for his long service: Farlen had sent instructions to a merchant based here whom he dealt with often to give Marenil a sum of money upon presentation of that ring. His son was steward now, and doing a good job of it apparently. He was not needed at home, Enna was gone...what was he to do now?