The White Horse Inn, Act III

[The Perky Ent]

Erik entered the inn a broken man. After many years of traveling Rohan, he was left with nothing more than his remaining senses. Erik had roamed Rohan for many years, searching for, oddly enough, berries. As an apothecary, he would strive to find new ingredients for potions. After witnessing his father's tragic illness against the hands of a mysterious disease, Erik had thought of nothing but a potion to cure all ailments. Finding nothing but dust for three months, he continued to search for some source of produce. Finally, Erik had discovered a small patch of berries, containing golden triangular-shaped yield. He tested his berries on several of his cuts, and had completely healed him two days later. Convinced they had potential, he took the whole bush and set off for his village. On the way, raiders ambushed him. Acting like berserk dogs, they ravaged him until there was nothing left but Erik’s bare flesh. After ordering them to give him back the berries, the raiders cut his eyes, keeping them from ever seeing again.

After days of wandering in darkness, Erik found a safe village and made it his home for fourteen years. Erik was taken in like a stray dog from a caring family, which clothed him and fed him. After years of living in the village, he left for Edoras, searching for an apothecary job. Guided by his “adopted” son, he set off for Edoras. After days of riding, he finally reached his goal.
“At last! We are here. A thousand thanks, my friend. My the golden sun ever shine over your brow.” Eric said, as he carefully got off his horse and grabbed his cane, his portable guide. “’Tis nothing my friend. I wish, alas, that I could stay, but mother needs me back at home. We fear our shipment of clay will not come. We’ll need to get started on this year’s season early.” After embracing for a second, Erik carefully walked up the hill as his friend got back on his horse and rode away.

It took Erik roughly thirty minutes to find the inn, a five minutes walk. Finally reaching the door, he pushed it back, and smelt the aroma of warm ale and fresh bread. As he walked through the door, he was pushed over by a drunken man dancing around. Getting to his feet a lot better then the intoxicated one, Erik asked “Where can I find the owner of this fine establishment?” The man staggered for a minute, then pointed toward the innkeeper. Being blind, Erik angrily walked away and found what looked like a counter. As he sat, regaining his focus, a warm voice crept up on him from behind. “Hello stranger! Can I help you?”

[Memory of Trees]

Emerisse wouldn't have stood out in a crowd: dark hair and a smooth, heartshaped face are typical in Gondor, are accepted everywhere. Even in fair-haired Rohan, she could be passed over and unremembered like the fallen leaves in winter, one among a hundred thousand. Then why was it that people turned and stared as she passed? Perhaps it was the fierce glint in her blue eyes and the no-nonsense way she carried her sword. Perhaps it was simply the dark, boyish clothing or wind-blown hair. Or perhaps it was the deep pride that her father and grandfather had taught her shining from within that made heads turn. Either way, there was no getting round the fact that Risse was different.

She pulled Windfire to a halt before the building marked White Horse Inn. Leaning forward, Risse traced the gentle curve of the horse's glossy neck lovingly. "Enough, sweet ," she whispered, making Windfire's ears flick back towards her, "You've done your day's work. Go now and rest." Risse slid lightly to the hard-packed ground and took Windfire by the haltar. "C'mon now."

She left the horse with the stablemaster and whickering softly after her. Risse was exhausted and ravenous after the long ride across the mountains and plains that had brough her here. "I only hope," she pleaded, in a sort of prayer, "they have room. It's y cold out here!"

[Carrûn]

A sultry dusk was falling across the plains when the weathered stranger strode into view of the Inn. He came from the Far East this time, skirting through the brown lands from the Sea of Rhûn. Word had reached him that the one who he had simply called "the boy" had been traveling through those largely unknown regions. His reputation with both the pen and song had grown. Awyrgan found him, but the boy was now a man though his age should suggest otherwise. The impish sparkle in his eye had been replaced with a solemn stare and his songs and sketches were of innocence lost.

The man sighed. Why do the young pass so quickly into the old?. He could not help but feel a slight twinge of guilt. The boy was never his by name, but he had always felt a sense of responsibility since he found him curled in a butcher's wagon near Bree. The last time the two had met the child had playfully kicked him in the shins. Now there was a firm handshake in its place. Still, the past was already written and all one could do was move on. So Awyrgan had, just like he always did.

From a distance there was not much to notice about him. Shorter than many of his race, he walked with the stride of a man who could travel at a great pace but was content to lazily stroll. There was evidence of a former spring in his step but it had faded into a steady and persistent plod. His broad frame was covered almost completely in a black cloak that weather had slowly faded into a murky grey. The years had been hard on his face, and scars melded with wrinkles that should be years in the distance. He paused to tighten the laces on a boot and as he bent the gleam of dark, tightly bound chain mail was briefly visible.

As he walked through the darkening streets he hummed softly to himself in ominous tones. The tune had no meter or melody other than the steady, pained beating inside his chest. He chuckled softly as he thought of the tales and titles that followed and preceded him. Awyrgan, the lost Ranger. Unmatched tracker and teller of tales which you would not believe except for the man who was telling them. A swordsman who was just as content to stab his enemies in the back as he was to take them on in direct combat. Others it seems, know me better than I do myself he thought with a bit of irony. Dark, yellow-green eyes shone brightly from beneath his hood, both frightening and alluring as was the wizened smirk on his face. Reaching the door he paused and straightened his back. Well-worn bones and self-treated ligaments popped with solemn satisfaction. Knocking mud off his boots as almost an afterthought he opened the door and glided in with the evening breeze.

The scene that greeted him was a typical bustle of longtime patrons and newcomers. Avoiding the crowd he moved quickly to a corner by the fire. Undoubtedly some marked his movements, but many missed. Seating himself, he straightened his legs and retrieved his pipe. After working the stem over in his mouth for a time he lit it, and leaned back against the wall. Some of the smoke caught in his hood, and his eyes stung. Ignoring the involuntary tear he sat quietly and observed the proceedings.

[littlemanpoet]

Gudryn nearly knocked Eodwine off his feet with her frail frame. "Thank you," she whispered.

Falco's face broadened into a wide grin "I reckon this calls for a drink!"

Rash, rash, rash. He had never done anything so rash; and at the same time so right. Eodwine's heart swelled, and he returned Gudryn's embrace, kissing her forehead.

"And I thank you, my child," and he noted with pleasure how his name for her had become fact instead of merely friendly. "It has been too long since I had a family." He held her at arm's length, looking into her bashful, giddy, happy face. "Come! Let us eat and drink and give out the news." They began walking down the hall toward the Common room. "And call me Father," Eodwine threw in.

"And call me Uncle Falco!" The hobbit said. "Not that we're any relation, mind you, but we're brothers in battle and that counts for something."

"That it does!" Eodwine crowed. Heads turned as the three came loudly into the Common room, arm in arm. Eyebrows rose.

Just then the door flew open and two big, burly men shouldered in both at the same time, which was quite difficult seeing as they had to fight each other's bulk to manage it. It was, of course, Harreld and Garreth, who saw Eodwine and then Falco right away.

"Have we missed anything?" Garreth asked.

"What's for supper?" Harreld queried.

"Now there's a man after my own heart," Falco grinned at Harreld. "He has his priorities straight."

"We have news, my friends," Eodwine said, and invited the two blacksmiths to sit with them.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"I do not know even who I am..." Bethberry was filled with compassion as tears filled the girl's eyes. How was she to help this girl when she knew so little of her? Saeryn tensed, shifting to lay slightly curled on her side. Injuries are bad enough, she thought, but to not even know where they are from? Why... anything could have happened. Tears slid down her cheeks as Mereflod patted her back. An image appeared before Saeryn's eyes.

A small girl stood at the top of a hill, a little boy beside her with her hand clasped in his. Silently they had watched the storm move in, the tall clouds moving unhurriedly across the plains. The shadows had intrigued them, for whenever a cloud passed under the high sun, it left darkness in its path.

The wind played against their faces, caressing red into their cheeks, tugging loose locks of hair about them. The girl's hair was unbound, falling near to her waist, while the boy's was cut short, skimming his ears. Their features matched. Dressed alike, they would have been hard to tell apart. "It's coming!" she cried, delighted. With a happy laugh, the children tilted their faces to the sky, catching the first rain drops with their tongues.

"Children!" called a tender voice. "It is time to come in. The storm will be on us in a moment." Moving as slowly as would be tolerated, the brother and sister walked down the small path, returning to the warmth of the home at the base of the hill.

Saeryn blinked, wiping the tears away. What in the... she asked herself, trailing mentally into silence. "Bethberry... who... are you? If I cannot know who I am... at least I can know who cares so well for me."

[Bêthberry]

"You have refuge here in The White Horse Inn, young lady. You had visited here and left to do a family errand. Our noble heroes found you injured by your horse. We know not what happened." Bethberry continued to wipe the mud away from Saeryn's face as they talked.

"You, you, you know my name then?" The girl leaned back into the pillows, dizzy.

"You told us it is Saeryn, and so Saeryn we shall call you. I am the innkeeper here."

The young girl tried to mouth the name, but the word failed her as a lump came up in her throat.

"We will get the other young girl, Gudryn, to help your recovery as she says she has some skill also with healing. Perhaps she can get you talking so you recover your memory."

"she,she is here?"

"No, unfortunately the heroes have gathered her to a feast, but she will return. For now you are stuck with my poltices and pills."

Saeryn made a face.

"Tut! You won't heal if you don't take your medicine!" Bethberry deftly applied some ungent to the girl's bruises and cuts and tucked her into clean sheets.

"I'll find some clean clothes for you, while the twins clean your boots. Gudryn will bring them back to you, likely, if she will take on the task of helping me."

With that, Bethberry quietly left the room to seek the Great Hall. The aromas of Frodides' cooking were wafting through the inn and the sound of conversation was rising to meet her. Tragedy and violence and great harm, it seemed, did little to lessen certain appetites.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld and Garreth beamed at Eodwine. Garreth spoke first, as was his wont. "The both of you are lucky, I say! The one has a daughter at long last, the other a father for maybe the first time!"

"'Tis a trial time first," Eodwine hedged, though grinning. "I would not bind Gudryn to me too tightly against her will for the long run, so we shall see."

"Hah!" laughed Garreth. "I see it in the girl's eyes, Master Eodwine, as far as it goes with her, she has a father she'll never let go."

"And an uncle too," Falco reminded the others.

Harreld squinted at Falco skeptically. "You are related to him, Master Falco?" He eyed Eodwine dubiously. "I did not think it possible. How is it, Eodwine, that you haven't pointed ears?"

Falco stood up on his seat. "You big lout! Mine ears ain't as pointed as all that! And I'm only uncle in name, not in blood. For the girl's sake, you ninny!" He sat back down and took a swig from his pint of ale.

"Ninny, is it?" Harreld said in mock indignation. "'Too bad this stout costs a pretty coin, or you'd be wearing it, Master Falco."

"I am too quick for you, you lumbering chunk of big trouble. You'd only get my chair wet." Eodwine giggled in his cup. Gudryn watched the others bicker back and forth, her face alight and her eyes sparkling, but suddenly her face fell.

"I am so happy, my lords, and uncle, and father;" she paused and looked at Eodwine in a mix of amazement and joy and sweet warmth; "but I fear for each of you, for Rand will surely come and do his worst to you, and take me back with him."

"'Tis time to clean the rust off of our swords, Harreld," said Garreth meaningfully, then pulled on his double pint stout.

Harreld wiped the foam from his mustache and set down his own double stout with a thud. "Aye. Maybe this Rand is as big as a cave troll, but if the King has given his blessing to Master Eodwine, he can be counted on to give more aid. He has a good heart and is wise, and will uphold the right."

Garreth looked at Harreld, amazed. "I have never heard you string together so many words at once, save in cursing."

"I do not curse, ever!" Harreld protested. Garreth grinned and slapped Harreld on the shoulder. Then Harreld laughed uproariously with Garreth until they had both their noses buried deep again in their stouts, quaffing largely. Gudryn was mesmerized, watching their gullets rise and fall with their copious quaffing.

Finally, Garreth put his emptied mug down and asked, "What of the young lass whose father lies invalid at home? Has anyone heard from her? Or what of the Lady Saeryn and her brother?"

"I have not heard from the girl," Eodwine replied, "but Saeryn lies abed, injured. We found her not far from the inn, wounded in the head. She does not remember who she is."

"I would see her!" Garreth rose from his chair, ready to launch himself down the hallway toward the girl's room, when Bethberry came through the self same door.

"You shall do no such thing, blacksmith! The girl needs rest. Sit down and I'll see that you have some supper with that drink."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Silver clouds wisped their way across a bright moon as a young man gave a bored sigh. They should have reached the Inn hours ago, but then Odessa had seen something off in the distance and, as usual, insisted upon investigating. Now, as Faleron wanted nothing more than to be home in the White City with his beloved Maerlyn, or to at least be asleep in a warm bed with a high, crackling, and warm fire beside him... he was riding through Rohan upon a finicky mare, with an even more finicky 15-year-old beside him chattering happily. He hid a yawn, nodding occasionally when it seemed that the girl spoke directly to him. Mostly, she was content with his occasional nod and "mhm", but now she seemed to want an actual response.

"Are you listening, Faleron?" she asked, suddenly serious. His eyes were closing. He hoped he would not fall from his horse... Odessa would never let him live it down. He'd known her since she was born, becoming her brother in everything but blood when her own siblings died. He knew that if he fell, she would be certain to relive the moment before his betrothed. He could not wait to return to his pretty young love, but with Desi bringing stories with her, he thought he could dally awhile longer.

"Faleron, I asked if you knew the healing properties of evermind." He looked blankly at her. The stars reflected in the girl's honey brown eyes as they rode on lazily.

"Desi, I do not know a blasted thing about plants, nor do I care to learn. That's your dream, not mine." He regretted the words as soon as they emerged, seeing the hurt look in his charge's eyes. Tears welled as he tried to make it right. "Desi, I'm sorry. I did not mean for it to sound... I... I'm just exhausted, Desi. We've been travelling for weeks, from inn to inn, inquiring everywhere for a healer, a midwife, or even a lame begger whose great grandmother, once removed and twice forgotten, once knew the use of roses in spring-time!"

The pretty young girl looked at her brother with wide eyes. Once she saw that Faleron wasn't truly angry, she smiled her charming little smile at him and began chattering away again. He sank back into his waking dreams, picturing his joyful reunion with Maerlyn. He pictured her flushed cheeks, her blue eyes. Her waves of sandy colored hair. She was beautiful, and he hadn't seen her since they had left.

"Faleron, do you think there will be a healer here? I do so wish that I could heal... it would be just like King Aragorn in the stories." Faleron sighed as Odessa's voice took on a dreamy quality. If he could get her mind away from unobtainable men for a fraction of a second, the long trip would be worth it. It was his greatest desire to see Odessa happy and prosperous, so when she expressed interest in healing and herblore, he'd packed his saddlebags and rode off without question. Now, he regretted not taking a moment to pack cotten for his ears. Odessa's boy-crazy nature was enough to drive a man to drink.

"Faleron... Do you think there will be any handsome men at this inn? Aunt Ioreth says that I should never close my mind to the thought of a good husband." He groaned, closing his eyes. He put all of his faith in the fact that his mare was inclined to stay near Odessa's placid gelding. Finally, she yelled. "Faleron! That's it! It's The White Horse!"

He opened his eyes to see the lamp-lit sign swaying in the breeze. Finally, he thought. Please, Eru, let there be a healer?

Leaving their mounts with the stable-master, Faleron led Odessa into the Inn. Taking a deep breath and praying, he swung the door open, taking a moment to adjust to the light and noise. Odessa pushed past him as he tried to regain his reflexes in time to stop her. Most rudely, he thought, she cried out.

"Is there a healer in the house?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Faint voices penetrated the heavy fog that was Saeryn's thoughts. She struggled against the phantom enemies invading her vision. She could not escape. Saeryn trembled beneath her covers, shuddering.

"Gudryn, hold her hand. Let her know that she is safe." Saeryn's hand was taken by the girl and she calmed. Waking instantly, she remained still, eyes closed. A door opened smoothly, closing swiftly. A kind but firm voice spoke. "Eodwine, where did you find her?"

"Not far from here, Bethberry. Her horse stood guard. Falco's tending the mare."

"We must keep watch on her. Inn of Lost Lasses we seem indeed to be..."

Saeryn's eyes flicked open, glancing up at the worried faces looking down at her. A mist seemed to cloud them, keeping them from focusing. Her temples throbbing, Saeryn closed her eyes.

"Lass, you must open your eyes for a moment... can you hear me? Come now, it'll be all right..." Gentle fingers felt her head, checking for bruising. A particularly tender spot caused Saeryn's eyes to jet open, a cry passing her lips. As the girl looked at the Innkeeper, she whispered, afraid. "Who are you?"

[Memory of Trees]

Risse pushed forward through the inn door. She gave an involuntary sigh of relief as the warm air reached out to greet her, wrapping around her cloak and hair. I'll begin to thaw in a moment, she thought ruefully. No more cold for me!

The inn was crowded and dim after the white light of the outdoors. When her eyes had adjusted, Risse glanced around the room. Everything seemed right, in place and cheerful. "How lovely here," she murmured, eyes half closed. "I might even get used to Rohan after all." Images of the forests and mountains of her own country flashed across her mind, startlingly clear. A wave of homesickness swept over Risse. No. Don't think of that.

Risse was stirred from her reverie by a cold blast of air as the door opened once more. In a flurry of activity as a group of people entered, she glimpsed a , pale and limp; she heard the voices, low and concerned. Shadowing them, Risse waited until they had the laid out on the floor.

She reached out and touched the sleeve of a young woman bending over the 's still form. "Excuse me," Risse said softly. "But I have some skill at healing. Can I help?"

[littlemanpoet]

"Who are you?" Saeryn whispered fearfully, looking into Bêthberry's face. Gudryn's small hand went to her mouth, her eyes widening. Saeryn's eyes closed and she drifted into an uneasy slumber.

"Lost her memory? Not good," Eodwine said.

"Excuse me, but I have some skill at healing. Can I help?" A lass with dark hair and a smooth, heartshaped face, touched Saeryn's sleeve.

"Only with her bruise, unless you can bring her memory back," Eodwine replied. "Your offer is welcome, I deem. I am Eodwine of the Gap."

"I am Risse. Emerisse. Of Gondor."

Bêthberry said, "Your skills are welcome, Risse of Gondor. Eodwine, bring her to her room."

Eodwine picked her up and followed Bêthberry's lead, Risse of Gondor and Gudryn walking side by side behind Eodwine. When Saeryn had been laid abed, Bêthberry shooed Eodwine out of the room; Gudryn stayed close beside him.

"Lady Bêthberry, I would that you knew somewhat of what I have learned today regarding Gudryn's ruffian."

"My patience has been tried this day, waiting for you to come back and tell me what you have learned. Out with it, man of the Gap!"

Eodwine smiled at the rough speech that covered the look of deep concern on the Innkeeper's face. "This Rand is known by some of the scouts at Meduseld. He lives in the northeastern edge of Rohan, a leader of brigands by all accounts, nigh to the wold. He is a land holder there and is jealous of all his possessions. If any are taken from him, he brooks no quarter in chasing down the thief. I have it from these scouts that we can trust he is on his way to Edoras to retrieve Gudryn." At that, Eodwine put a protective hand around Gudryn's shoulder.

"No wonder the lass is staying so close to you."

"Aye," Eodwine nodded. "I hope Harreld and Garreth return soon. What have you heard of Hama? Has he returned? Do you expect him back?"

[Bêthberry]

Evening always brought greater activity to the Horse, and today was clearly no exception. Yet events were more serious and sombre than they had been for quite some time.

Bethberry had been talking with the blind man, Erik, whom she had calmly escorted to a table, discovering that he had returned to Edoras in hopes of finding work as an apothecary.

"An apothecary," she echoed, wondering if his skills and sense of smell and touch were developed enough to compensate for his blindness. "You might be needing to prove your abilities to those about, before they might trust you. But let us not worry about that now. You will be wanted some warm vittles in your stomach." With that, the Innkeeper had called upon Maercwen to take his order for dinner, but while she was calling to the young girl, a second stranger strode into the Horse, one far less social than the blind apothecary.

Bethberry watched as the wizened man sought out a quiet, warm corner and lit his pipe. She would have gone to him to converse, but her first thoughts had been for the shocking news of the return of Eodwine with Saeryn and Gudryn. Seeing that Saeryn was first taken to a warm room, and watched over by the other orphan warrior lass who had shown up at the door of the Horse, She had listened to Eodwine's news of the brigand Rand.

"I have heard nothing of Hama since this morning, Eodwine. Nor of Saeryn's twin. And have no knowledge of when they were to return. We seem to have come upon some dark deeds here. Please, will you return to the Great Hall, and wait for me? I would wish you to stay, at least until Frodides' husband and son can join us to discuss safety. "But first let me return to the girl. Given these events, I am loathe to leave her with a stranger, even one as willing to help as this young girl. Gudryn, will you wish to talk more with Eodwine?"

With those remarks, Bethberry re-entered Saeryn's room.

"Emerisse of Gondor, I thank you for your offer of help in attending to Saeryn, but I will now watch over her. I am, from old days, myself a healer and can perhaps do something for her. It might as well be best if those faces she had most recently seen were those nearest her."

With that request, Emerisse bowed and withdrew, returning to the Great Hall to seek out Eodwine for what great news he had brought. For her part, Bethberry checked over Saeryn's face, poking gently into bruises, lifting her eyelids to see for bleeding around the eyes, and then softly testing limbs for breaks and swellings. There were none. She then moved swiftly to the kitchen, whispering with Frodides, and bringing back with her the two youngest, who she wished to attend to Saeryn. At this time, what was needed was someone trustworthy who would keep her from falling into a deeper unconsciousness. And someone not frightful to the girl. What peril would the children suggest to an injured memory? None, Bethberry hoped.

The three of them gently roused Saeryn to sitting position, talking her into a dizzy consciousness. "Children," spoke Bethberry, "I charge you with a most important task, as important as any hero knew in our tales of eld."

Wide eyes stared at the Innkeeper clamourously and she hid a smile.

"You must keep Saeryn awake, but by quiet means. You must talk with her and get her to talk with you. She is conscious enough now to attend to you. Do not let her fall back into sleep. Should you hear any disturbances, one of you come to the Great Hall immediately and request Eodwine's presence. There are trolls about, but the fey people will watch over you as you keep your duty, so fear not."

With that, Bethberry slipped out of the room. She would soon join the group in the Great Hall, but for now she matters to attend to herself, and would be curious then to know what talk went round the Great Hall without her present.

~~~

OOC: I would like to remind everyone to read over the rules in The Golden Hall about character types and actitivities that are best suited to Rohan. Remember that the keynote to Tolkien's success in fantasy is plausibility and specific detail. The more specific, unique and original your character is, the better will be the events and activities you can join in as a character with something to offer. Citizens of Edoras can work in many ways, and still be able to visit The White Horse. It need not be limited to serving travellers only and there are many more roles than shieldmaiden that a young woman can play.

Bêthberry
Moderator for Rohan

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Her head pounding, Saeryn listened to the sounds of where she lay. The same gentle voice as before spoke. The door opened and closed softly once more. A delicate touch sent spasms of pain through her. Saeryn flinched, but did not resist the careful inspection. Footsteps grew fainter as the woman left again. On the other side of the wall, the wind picked up. Time? she wondered groggily. She felt the world slip slowly away.

The door opened once more and Bethberry, accompanied by two wide-eyed youngsters, returned. With the children's help, she shifted Saeryn upright.

"You must keep Saeryn awake," she told the children softly, "but by quiet means. You must talk with her and get her to talk with you. She is conscious enough now to attend to you. Do not let her fall back into sleep. Should you hear any disturbances, one of you come to the Great Hall immediately and request Eodwine's presence. There are trolls about, but the fey people will watch over you as you keep your duty, so fear not." Turning, Bethberry slid out of the room.

The children watched the girl, impressed. "Heros..." one whispered to the other in awe. Saeryn groaned as she tried to look about. Her eyes fell on her small companions. "Halflings?" she murmered to herself.

"Halflings?!" responded the older of the two. "No, lady... we are Rohirrim. You are too. Bethberry says we are to stay here with you."

Saeryn grimaced, cradling her face in her hands. "Why are you here?"

The younger one spoke. "Bethberry says there's trolls around." Startled, Saeryn made to move. The sudden motion sent a searing blast behind her eyes; she cried out and fell back against her pillows. Rolling to her side, she vomited over the edge of her bed.

[Memory of Trees]

"Emerisse of Gondor, I thank you for your offer of help in attending to Saeryn, but I will now watch over her. I am, from old days, myself a healer and can perhaps do something for her. It might as well be best if those faces she had most recently seen were those nearest her," the innkeep - Bethberry, the called her - said gently. Nodding, Risse bowed and withdrew to the Great Hall, where she was served dinner and weak ale.

But Risse found it hard to eat. Seeing the hurt and confusion in the young woman's face had stirred the healer in her, a part of herself Risse hadn't thought of in a long time. Again, the voice spoke sharply in her mind, No. Don't think of that. It was too long ago. Finding it easier to listen to the whispers in her head than face the memories, Risse tried to concentrate on the plate of steaming food before her.

As she ate, her attention strayed around the room, studying one stranger and then the next. As her eyes wandered, Risse's gaze was arrested by the old man sitting at the table next to hers. He was turned away from her, and seemed to be searching the floor for something. She watched him as he slowly turned, his fingers brushing every inch of the floor around him without success. As he turned, Risse met his eyes.

Deep, deep blue, the color of sea, the color of sky. Sightless, unfocused eyes of flaming indigo burned into her skull, pulling out the memories she had tried for so long to repress. They came unbidden, ly and painfully clear. So long. So long since I saw eyes that stopped me in my tracks. Blue eyes. Indigo.

The panic rose in her throat to find the memory as raw and fresh and painful as the day it had happened. You would think time would heal, she thought bitterly. Why can't I let go? She closed her eyes until the tears and the roaring in her ears receded.

Risse stood and faced the man, who was still searching the bare floorboards. Gently, she placed a smooth white hand on the old man's shoulder. "Can I help you, sir?" she asked Erik.

[Esgallhugwen]

Oh, he's going to get you good now!

A loathing voice sounded within Gudryn's head, she clenched her eyes shut.

Silence!

She pressed it violently until it fizzled and popped, hissing into nothingness. She opened her eyes to find Saeryn's hand clasped in hers, hoping that she had not been the cause of this mishap.

Gudryn along with Eodwine were shooed out of Saeryn's room after Eodwine related the news to the Innkeeper of Rand. She coughed and followed Eodwine to the Great Hall.

"What am I to do my Lord Eodwine if Rand finds me here?"

He looked down at her and put his arms on both her shoulders, "do not fret, the scouts now know he may show his face to find you, they will keep a look out and alert us of any comings and goings".

She cleared her throat as if to speak but only nodded her head, they walked over to an unoccupied table and ordered some drinks, Gudryn only wanted cider. She coughed a little bit amd took a sip of the hot drink.

Her thin arms set the drink down steadily, she was glad to be gaining her strength so quickly. "M'lord, thank you for your kindness as well as the kindness of your comrades, if there is anything at all that I can do to repay you and your friends, any errands that are in need of doing, I'll see that there done".