The White Horse Inn, Act III

[littlemanpoet]

The door opened before Bêthberry could say what was on her mind. They all turned and looked expectantly. It was Gudryn with Giedd. Giedd seemed stoic, but Gudryn looked crestfallen. They came no farther than the door. Eodwine rose and went to them.

"How do you fare, lady?"

"Well and not so well, Eodwine. I-" she paused and lost her composure. Eodwine saw naked fear, which passed into a mixture of regret and relief. "No, I cannot walk with you in this new path, for 'tis beyond my ken and well beyond my strength. You can do better than I."

"I think not," Eodwine answered softly, "but I accept your gracious answer, and wish you well."

"Gudryn," Giedd said, her hand in the small of the girl's back, "go to your father."

Gudryn looked up, battling tears, took a reluctant step, then sprang toward him and threw her arms around him. He held her close.

"Goodbye, and good health to you, Giedd."

She nodded and left.

"There will be others, sweet Gudryn," Eodwine soothed.

"Not like her!" she whined, rubbing the tears from her cheeks.

"No, not like her, but as good and as kind and maybe better fit to share the road we travel. Come, let's get you some food. Have you eaten tonight?"

Gudryn nodded. "But I want something sweet."

"That sounds good to me too."

They returned to the table where Bêthberry, Ruthven, Falco, and Saeryn waited, watching while trying to seem not to watch. Eodwine knew better; they were too quiet. He sat down, Gudryn taking the chair to his right.

"Well, that's over. Time to attend to good food and strong drink! And my daughter would like some sweets, and the plate Bêthberry brought out is empty." Eodwine eyed Falco mischievously. "Ready for a third supper?"

[Bêthberry]

"Well now," said the Innkeeper, "if we are to have second and thirds and tea stronger than stout, then we must ask for the pipes to go out. If you please." A nod and a raise eyebrow gave the inquiry to Falco and Ruthven.

Falco for his part was hard put to decide, having just managed to achieve the right smouldering embers which would put him ahead of Ruthven in the smoke ring contest. Yet his stomach made loud protest at the thought of missing any heart stews or flakey tarts or cheese bread and jam. He looked at Ruthven, puffing away strongly yet without obvious urgency.

Ruthven eyed Eodwine and the girl Gudryn, whose face was streaked with smuges telling of disappointment. She made one last, long, lingering trail of smoke, strangely like a leaf wafting in autumn air, except rising rather than falling, and then lay down her pipe. Quiet descended upon the table as all watched the embers slowly wink out. Gudryn held back a sob and buried her head on Eowdwine's shoulder.

The lass Æòelhild picked up her flute again and began a less melancoly song this time, a sprightly tune that began softly then built to a faster air. Ruthven took up wooden spoons on the table to accompany her and Falco found his feet keeping time with the floor. From the kitchen came a serving girl with a large pitcher of hot apple cider, the scent of cinnamon rising from it as if to banish the last faint odour of pipeweed. She poured a tankard and offerred it to Gudryn.

Bethberry looked at Eodwine. "I got the last round. Is this one yours?"

It appeared for an instant that he had not heard Bethberry, but then his eyes were drawn to hers.

"It's Falco's turn to treat us," he said quietly.

"Even so, will you not name a treat you would like?" she asked in return.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine thought a moment, and could think of no especial item that suited his fancy. "I'll hand your favor to Saeryn. Let her name what she would like, and I will try it, if you have it, sing noddy hey noddy all the day long." He winked at Bêthberry and stretched, glad that the press of the day's events were sliding from him.

But Gudryn looked up at him, hot cider in hand, looking mournful. He looked at her kindly.

"Gudryn, lass, fear not. 'Twas we two before, and if it remains so yet a while, we'll do well enough. If some likely lady comes our way and shows herself to be as well disposed to you as the lady Giedd, then I pray she'll be as well disposed to being titled and joining on a new adventure."

"Will we be going to Dunland soon, then, father?" asked Gudryn.

"Soon enough. The King gave me time to remain here yet a brief while." He turned to Saeryn. "So, pretty lass, what'll it be?"

[Nerindel]

As Æoelhild played her sprits rose, playing had always seemed to melt away her troubles and bring her joy a gift her father oft told her she had inherited from her mother. She wished she had known her mother but her fathers memories had always been enough to dispel such sorrows. He had truly loved her and spoke often of her kindness and beauty, always telling Æoel with a wink and a nod that a part of her had remained in his daughter, that she was her mothers final gift to him. As the tune finished and she lowered the flute given her by Ruthven when it was discover that she could play she found herself laughing merrily. Something she could not recall doing in such along time, forgetting completely her reason for choosing that particular tune until her eyes again fell on the young girl nestled against her fathers shoulder.

Her laughter stopped as she was reminded of her own father and how he would hold her thusly when she was upset , she could remember clearly the warmth and tenderness of his embrace and the rich aroma of the tobacco smoke that clung to his clothes. Her hand searched for the hilt of her fathers sword hoping to draw from it some of that same warmth and security, but then she remembered that she had hidden it in the room the innkeeper had assigned to her. So instead she reached for the tankard that had just been poured for her and lifting it to her lips she sipped at the warm sweet liquid within as she let her eyes idly study the faces around the table at which she now sat.

The Innkeeper, Ruthven and Saeryn, she had already been acquainted with, but the others, the young girl she had heard her father call Gudryn and indeed the father himself she did not know. But then there was the halfling! Oh yes she had heard of halflings in fact there was not a Gondorian who had not, but she had never actually met one and she soon found herself staring with mild curiosity at the strange little fellow seated across from her.

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Brokhelm held the door open with his right hand, letting Linnéa pass over the threshold before following her into the fire lit hall. His sister paused just inside the door, and for a moment the two stood side by side surveying the company assembled there, looking as much like two variations of one theme as a brother and sister might. One fair and well-formed, the other proved a rougher draft, with left hand hanging useless at his side and a face that bespoke a life spent on the plains. Rightly one would guess that Brokhelm was the elder, but on closer inspection the glimmer of sadness that visited Linnéa’s eyes would give one cause to be unsure.

The room was warm, heavily scented with pungent fragrance of apples and wood smoke, and the air felt closer still for the brisk wind that had blown down upon them from the mountain heights though out the day. Brokhelm stroked his beard, feeling the familiar tightness of his dry skin as he took in the mood of those gathered near the fire. “A merry tune, is it not, Linnéa?” He said hoping that his sister might welcome such diversion. Looking down at her he saw that the wind had caused a healthy bloom on her cheek, and it struck him that to the eyes of strangers she appeared pleasant to behold. “Still, let caution govern our speech, for not all men are as praiseworthy as Anwyl,” he warned.

“Or as well intentioned as you, Brokhelm,” she replied quickly. “Do not be fearful for me, I have grown accustomed to dealing with those who have with fair words and friendly ways sought to cheat us of our livelihood.” She took a deep breath, and moving a bit further, set down her small bundle on a bench against the wall.

“True enough,” Brokhelm said following her and picking up her belongings from off their narrow perch. “Soon you will have surpassed me in procuring a good price for our animals, but it is not of the horses I speak.”

“I know this, brother, and will give heed to your words, but let us not speak of such things now.”

A smile crept across Brokhelm’s face. “Very well, and in return I ask that you make the most of this luxury. While we are in an Inn we should not sit so close to the wall that we are mere inches from being without it. Come let us sit closer to the others, and perhaps we shall hear tell of sweet fields and sufficient rain.”

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn sat quietly, enjoying the beautifully light music coming from Æoelhild's flute. She had always loved music and had a special fondness for flutes. She listened with the ear of a noble lass trained from childhood and caught no errors nor no finger slips. She relaxed as she watch Æoel's fingers dance nimbly from note to note. When Eodwine asked her choice of treats, she did not respond, still caught in the tune. Her fingers mimicked the fading notes beneath the table on an imaginary flute, and she was loathe to lose the moment of tranquility. She wished she could play here and now... her favorite tune came to mind and played to her, now trilling spiritedly above the rafters like bird song at dawn, now low and soothing. She could hear the melody dancing as clearly as she could see the steps of the lads and lasses frolicking about to the rhythm tapped out lightly by her foot as she played on with a smile.

An unexpected entrance broke the moment and, looking slightly disappointed, Saeryn turned to Eodwine.

"I... my apoligies. What did you request of me? I was lost in thought..."

[littlemanpoet]

"Name a treat you would like," Eodwine answered Saeryn, casting a glance at the newcomers. He gently extricated himself from Gudryn's leaning grip, rose, and raised his tankard in greeting. "Hail and well met, soon-to-be-friends. I am Eodwine of the Gap, often to be found here. Please come join us. How are you called?"

That moment, the front door flew open with a bang, and in walked a pair of tall, strongly built blonde and bearded men.

"Good even all!" merrily shouted the one who walked in front. "The life of the party has arrived!"

"Ach, Garreth," said his seeming twin, "tone it down a notch."

Garreth either did not hear, or chose not to notice, for his eyes had grown large, taking in the comely new lass who with her companion was now approaching the table where the others sat.

"Ho now!" Garreth called. "An new eligible maiden has joined the company, it seems."

Garreth's companion rolled his eyes and made signs for all but Garreth to see that he considered himself not to be associated with the man.

Falco laughed. "Harreld, I fear you're stuck with him. Better you than me!"

"Our friendly bunch is growing!" said Eodwine. "Shall we not bring two tables together to accomodate everyone? Oh, and Saeryn, what about that treat?"