Eorling Mead Hall

[Firefoot]

Léof had been content to let Gárwine do most of the talking as they ate; he was hungry, and the food tasted extraordinary. He found himself liking Gárwine, and Léof hoped that perhaps he had found a friend in this unfamiliar place. But this did not prevent his personal barriers from creeping up when Gárwine began inquiring about his own story.

"So, friend Léof, tell me what business brings you here to this inn. Are you a carpenter, perhaps?"

Léof shook his head and grinned at the thought of himself as a carpenter. "Oh, no. I am an ostler. Eodwine has given me one month here to prove myself.” This reminded him of Æthel, still tied to the post outside the inn. “In fact, my own horse is still waiting for me outside, so I have time for only a brief tale before I must see to her.” At this point one of the serving girls approached their table and sat down; she seemed not to want to interrupt their conversation, so Léof only smiled back at her before going on. Her presence did, however, change a few things: any of the really important bits of his story that he had been considering sharing were now edited out until he knew more about her.

“I lived a few days’ journey west of here; my father is a farmer. Farming is not what I wanted to do with my life; I preferred to work with the horses. So with my father’s blessing I left the farm and came here, hoping to find some kind of work.” This last statement was a gross misinterpretation of the true events; his father’s “blessing” had actually been an order to get out; the harsh words still rang in his ears. And too, his hope to find work had been more like sheer desperation, but neither of these two would be able to figure this out, he hoped.

This past shamed him, especially compared with Gárwine’s noble tale. Eventually, he might be able to tell them, but for now, he could not let word of his banishment from his father’s house hurt his chances at establishing some kind of life here. “Much simpler than your story, perhaps,” said Léof, sadly noting the irony of this statement: if only his tale really was so simple. “But I really must be tending to my horse – I will come back later, or you could come out with me now, if you prefer. I would not mind the company.”

[Nerindel]

Entering the old Common room Æðelhild nervously looked around. All the tables bar one had been pushed against the far wall, ready for the work needing done to turn the ample common room into a mead hall fit for the new Eorl of Middle Emnet. Lord Eodwine stood with a tall, broad shouldered man to his right shoulder as he addressed a rather anxious looking young girl and even as Æðelhild crossed the room to the table the young lass with a broad smile fixed in place passed behind her toward the kitchens.

The table itself was occupied by a thin lad who’s boyish features made him look no older than his fourteenth year, but to Æðelhild who knew that first appearances could be deceiving it meant nothing, For she herself looked no older than fifteen when infact she was well into her seventeenth year and fast approaching womanhood. Sitting next to the young lad was a slightly taller man with thick blonde rather dusty hair, in fact most of him was covered in dust, telling young Æðelhild that he must have travelled someway to get here.

So many new faces! she thought as she silently sat across from the young lad, her rich dark eyes surreptitiously taking in the shield and spear strapped to the other, the dusty man’s back… A guard perhaps or a warrior? She mused, again feeling the uneasiness of her past attempting to creep up on her. But defiantly and taking a bite of bread she swallowed both down.

Three days had passed and no-one saw her as anything but a hired hand, obviously news from Gondor either travelled very slowly or was long forgotten, after all a year had been and gone since that awful night and as far as she could tell no one was looking for her. Which was just as well for she had no intentions of returning, not now that everything and everyone that she had ever loved was gone.

She was awakened from her thoughts as Gurdyn again appeared and sat herself silently beside her, the two men where exchanging histories and she listened quietly as she ate, quite content for the moment to go unnoticed.

[Alcarillo]

“I lived a few days’ journey west of here; my father is a farmer. Farming is not what I wanted to do with my life; I preferred to work with the horses, though we had only a few. So with my father’s blessing I left the farm and came here, hoping to find some kind of work.”

A happy tale from what Gárwine heard, with not a single stain of death nor cruel uncles. And Léof still had a loving father and a comfortable home waiting for him should things take a turn for the worse. Gárwine's only home was with Uncle Wilfrid and his gambling and drinking, in that grim village at the feet of the mountains, so far from the wet fields by the Entwash where Gárwine grew up among his friends and family. And should Gárwine cause a grievous hurt to his Eorl, then he would be out on the streets as a beggar. No king, not even one who rode with Gárwine's father, would let Gárwine serve another Eorl if something terrible occurred and Eodwine cast him from his house.

Gárwine cast these troublesome thoughts from his mind. Why was there need to worry? He was surrounded by new friends and a limitless future here at the inn. And what could Gárwine do that would be so horrible as to cause him to be cast out by Eodwine? Nothing. But now Gárwine's mind worried. What about Wilfrid? He was surely combing the countryside at this very moment for his only farmhand and one of his horses. He could be asking everybody in Firienmarch, from the old hag in the forest to the rich merchant's infant son, about the wherebouts of Gárwine and Herefola. Surely someone had seen him ride out those few days ago at dusk along the Great West Road. What if Wilfrid tracked Gárwine down and appeared at the door tomorrow morning? His anger would be horrible, and he would spew dirty insults from his mouth like a Dunlending. What if Eodwine let Wilfrid take Gárwine back to Firienmarch? Would Léof or Gudryn or Saeryn come to his aid? Gárwine hoped so, but his mind was unsure. They were new friends, and their friendship had yet to be tested by time. He had met them all this very same morning.

“Much simpler than your story, perhaps, but I really must be tending to my horse – I will come back later, or you could come out with me now, if you prefer. I would not mind the company.”

Léof had spoken, and Gárwine looked up from his half-eaten dessert, which was a soft and fluffy slice of cake covered in sweet and oozing honey.

"Yes, I will come with you," Gárwine said, standing from his seat. He nodded to Gudryn and smiled. "Thank you for this meal, and to Saeryn. It was the perfect breakfast to end those long days of riding."

Léof said the same, and he and Gárwine walked away from the table and outside, where Edoras was now fully awake and the people walked and rode through the street about their errands. It was mid-morning, and the sun had risen into the pale blue sky. Across the street was Léof's horse, Æthel, a chestnut mare, and Gárwine could've mistaken her for Herefola had she been a somewhat darker chestnut color. She was tethered to the same post that Herefola had occupied before Saeryn had led her to the stables. Léof now untied her.

"This is Æthel," Léof said, rubbing his horse's neck. He reached into a pocket and removed a leaf of green vegetables, which he let her nibble upon. He began leading her toward the stables. "You rode here on a horse, too, no?"

"Yes. I call her Herefola. I'll show her to you when we get there."

[Kath]

Kara thanked Eodwine and hurried off to do as he'd requested. She hadn't got far however, before she realised that she didn't know where she was supposed to be going. The kitchens, he had told her, but where were they? She wandered round in the vague hope that eventually she would find the kitchens, but wasn't sure where she was allowed to go, and as some of the passages were blocked by bits of furniture she soon found herself back where she had started.

Not wanting to be seen as incompetent from the moment she arrived, Kara backed away into a corner, and looked around for people who might help her. As she looked though she saw Saeryn heading down a passageway that she hadn't noticed before. Quickly following her she soon found herself in a large, open kitchen, and smiled with relief.

Saeryn turned, saw her, and returned the smile.

"Hello again. Did Eodwine send you in here?"

"Yes. I'm to help a woman called Frodides with the cooking. Is she here?"

[Firefoot]

Léof nodded, not seeing a need to respond further to this. As they approached the stable and entered, Léof felt a sense of homecoming; stables everywhere were all pretty much the same: same scent of horses and hay, same sounds of horses shifting in their stalls. At home, their small stable had always seemed more like home to him than the house, and despite the obvious differences, this place felt familiar and comfortable. Whether because she felt the same way or because she could sense his emotions, Æthel nickered softly to him. That’s right, girl. We’ve found ourselves a home.

They started to pass a dark chestnut mare when Gárwine said, “And this is Herefola.” At this, Léof paused for a few moments to let the mare sniff his hand. He rubbed her muzzle while trying to get a look at her. He could not see well for the dim light of the stall, but she seemed to look quite similar to Æthel – even their white markings were in similar places. Pleased to have found something in common with his new friend, Æthel nudged him, reminding him who ought to be receiving his attention. “Herefola is a fine horse,” he said, before turning to his own horse. He unsaddled and unbridled her before finding a tack room a little ways down to put them in. The leather would need some care later, but for now he was more concerned about the horse.

He gave Æthel a quick but thorough brushing, for without proper equipment grooming was one of the things that had slipped in his journey here. Watching him, Gárwine asked, “Did you have many horses at home?”

Léof shook his head. “No, only a few: Æthel, here, who was primarily our riding horse, though I was the only one who really rode her, and three others, mostly used by my father to help with the farming. But for a long time, it’s mostly been my job to take care of them.” Some worry crossed Léof’s mind; he knew his father’s attention would not be as careful or caring as his had been, even if he did need them and could not easily afford another trained horse. “I hope they’re doing all right; my father wouldn’t mistreat them, but he’s not much of a horse person.” He owed more to those horses than to leave them; not only had they given him the work experience and an escape from the house, but there had also been times after his mother had died when his father had gotten so bad (sometimes drunk, as well) that those horses had kept him sane.

He brushed off the feelings; he could not do anything right now. He cleaned Æthel’s hooves – with a real metal pick, not just the makeshift tools he had been using – and was glad he had not ridden her earlier today: a piece of stone was still wedged up in her hoof. Satisfied that she would at least now be comfortable if not perfectly clean, he attended to her larder: fresh hay and a bucket of clean water that Gárwine was kind enough to get.

Now that he had a better idea of the stable, he had an idea of what needed to be done and thought it only fair to inform Gárwine. “I’d like to check on the other horses stabled here: how many of them there are, make sure they’re properly settled, you know. My saddle and bridle will have to be cleaned, and when Æthel’s done eating, I’d like to give her and any other horses that might need it a more thorough grooming – I do not know which of these horses have just arrived, or how well they were tended upon arrival. After that, I don't think anything will need to be done until the horses are fed and cared for tonight. It may take a while, and I’d perfectly understand if you had other things you needed to be doing…”