Eorling Mead Hall

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

He hoped he looked far less foolish than he felt. As he picked up pieces of his broken ego, he tried to think of words and was at a loss. No, he thought... I look exactly as foolish as I feel. His bright eyes beseeching and without the devilish gleam so often present, he spoke quietly, still balanced upon his knee. He had not yet stood when the lady had so calmly swept him from his mooring. All the better, he groaned inwardly, or I may have fallen and then what would she think of me? He was glad Saeryn hadn't witnessed this. He shuddered to think of the teasing he would receive if she'd been here.

"I wish to thank my sister for a deed she would prefer remain thankless. I've no idea how. I'd come to beg of you advice and in return, offer my service as your escort today as you explore what delights the fair has for you."

He tried fruitlessly to think of more words to say... something to impress the lady, or to sweep her off of her feet. He would have settled for a cool insult, even, yet nothing came forth. His full concentration was spent on the proper pronunciation of what had formerly been his rather large vocabulary.

[JennyHallu]

Lin saw that she had hurt the young man, and his quiet, deflated, honesty tore at her heartstrings. How to handle this? she wondered. Same way father told you to handle an Ambassador you wish to come to an agreement with, she realized with a mental *click* as several half-developed thoughts and lessons fell into place. Show him that he is honored, and that his desires may come to fulfilment more easily than he might think.

She turned to Degas a heartfelt, friendly, and loving smile, handing her basket to him cheerfully. "You would be most welcome, Lord," she said softly and feelingly. She paused, then continued in a more casual tone. "And I am sure that Garstan also shall feel better, knowing his daughter defended by so doughty a warrior. And as for your other request...haven't you seen the host of vendors flooding Lord Eodwine's crumbled hall these last few days? All sorts of treasures will be laid out today! If you would do something sweet for Saeryn, I will help you to choose some pretty gift, fit for a lady of her worth."

[Celuien]

Garstan watched the interaction between Linduial and Degas with the faintest hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. The lady's initial coldness was so obviously feigned, particularly considered in contrast to her quick transformation to smiles. Should there have been any doubt, the young gentleman's crestfallen appearance following her rejection was sign enough. The rules of flirting, it seemed, were the same everywhere.

The horse fair. Should he allow Lèoðern to go with them? Her shining face told him that she wanted to go. The precious sweet offered had won Degas the child's affections. Linduial had been her friend from day one: not a day had passed when they didn't wander the yard together, telling stories and playing games. Garstan was truly honored and thankful for her attention to his daughter. And he liked both Linduial and Degas. But would it be unwise to put Lèoðern under the charge of a pair with so many distractions to be found in each other? He thought there should be no difficulties: both of them appeared trustworthy, and had certainly been kind and attentive to Lèoðern. Still, how much attention could he expect for her while Linduial and Degas were off on some mutually evasive conversation?

He studied the edge of his chisel, wiping bits of stone-dust from its surface, while catching glimpses of Lèoðern's red curls below the metal. She was looking up at Linduial, chattering about horses and chocolates. She wanted to go. She should go.

Garstan spoke. "Indeed, Lady. It would be my pleasure to send Lèoðern to the fair with you. I am sure that it would make a pleasant day for the child. My thanks to you again for your attention to her." He smiled at Degas. "And to you, sir."

He hoped that he had made the right decision.

[littlemanpoet]

Æðel had come and had had a look at the boy, and asked for Hrethil. Eodwine had gone to the stable and sent Léof to Meduseld. Now it was time to break his fast. He made his way to the kitchen where he expected to find Kara. Instead he found the larders ransacked, and Kara missing. He wondered where she was. He picked up a half a loaf of brown bread and munched at it as he wandered over the grounds looking for Kara.

It was an hour later when he found her in the cellars, talking to Saeryn, who was on her knees scrubbing at the floor beneath the wine casks.

"Will you please stop and have a bite of breakfast?" Kara was saying.

"What's this?" Eodwine asked. Kara turned suddenly, her eyes wide, as though she had been caught misbehaving. Eodwine's brow flickered in confusion as to why she reacted so.

"I was just trying to get Saeryn here to leave off with all the scrubbing and come break her fast."

"Good of you, Kara. I'll see to Saeryn. Your kitchen seems to want looking after. Some hands have had a go at your larder."

Kara 'yes lorded' him and found her way up the stairs.

Eodwine watched Saeryn, who had not stopped with the scrubbing during his words with Kara.

"Saeryn, stop a moment."

[Firefoot]

Léof was glad for the chance to leave the Mead Hall for a bit and get out; for all the time he spent with the horses, he had little chance to ride, and Æthel had not been well-exercised. Remembering how Gárwine had needed to lend the healer his horse on the last occasion, Léof had saddled up Herefola as well; he did not think that Gárwine would mind. They started out at a brisk trot but were soon slowed to a walk as they became caught up in the fair traffic. For himself, Léof did not mind; this was a sight like he had never seen before. The fair was more than horse buying and games; vendors had come to sell their wares, hoping to take advantage of the crowd. Some sold food; others, jewelry; and all sorts of tings that Léof did not have the time to look at. Outside the city, a small oval had been marked out for horse racing, and this most of all caught Léof’s eye. “What do you think, girl?” he asked Æthel. “Maybe we should give it a try.” He knew full well that Æthel would not be the fastest horse, and if the track had been straight he probably would not have stood a chance. But a round track – on a couple of occasions a small round track similar to this one had been set up near his village for people to have a bit of sport out of their normal schedules, and Léof had quickly noticed how much the dynamics had changed. Rather than running in a straight line, the horses tended to bunch up on the inside because it would be shorter, and sometimes the fastest horse might be caught up in that sort of mess, and a slower horse might win. He might have a chance.

Æðel probably wouldn’t approve, said a little nagging voice in his head. Your foot still isn’t right. The voice annoyed him. Of course he would be fine; it was not as if he would be running on it. Stirrups? interrupted the voice. So what? A fierce desire came over him to just prove them all wrong. He was not a baby to be handled gently because he had been foolish enough to get his foot stepped on.

Besides – there would be some kind of reward money. And he needed money, to get his sister here. She would be able to stay at the Mead Hall, of course, but their father would come after her if he just took her away. Léof was not precisely sure how money would help, but he figured that it would, somehow. Buying his father off, perhaps, horrible as it sounded.

His mind returned to the matter at hand as he rode up at the healer’s place. Tying the horses in front, he went inside to find the healer Hrethel. “What can I do for you, lad?” he asked. Then he noticed Léof’s limp. “What did you do to your foot?”

“Oh, it’s not me,” Léof assured him. “Horse stepped on my foot a couple days ago, but I’m doing all right. I was sent from the Mead Hall – it seems we’re needing your services again.” By now Léof was leading him out to where he had tied the horses.

“What seems to be the problem this time?”

“It’s this boy that we found. He’s in pretty bad shape – has a gash on his forehead, among other things.”

“I see.” Then he noticed the two horses and gave Léof an inquiring look.

“I remembered that you didn’t have your own horse, so I brought a second,” he explained.

Hrethel chuckled as he mounted. “Are you folk all trying to tell me something?”

“Well, the horse fair is going on right now…” Léof grinned. The old healer just shook his head.

The ride back seemed quicker. Léof directed Hrethel to the hurt boy’s room and took Æthel and Herefola to the stables. He removed the tack of both, but left Æthel’s out since he would be needing it shortly. As he worked, he tried to think of any other duties he might need to do if he was to race Æthel. It occurred to him that Larswic might be intending to conduct his business here rather than taking his horses out: this would certainly be more convenient, although perhaps less conducive to business. And if so, it might be best for him to stick around for most of the day, only slipping out for a short while – especially if he was to keep an eye on him, as Eodwine had requested. Léof nodded to himself and went to find Larswic.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn set down her supplies and dried her hands as she sat back onto her feet, straightening and lengthening her spine. Turning slightly, she allowed her back to crack the stiffness out of itself. Balancing carefully on the balls of her feet, she rotated her shoulders and turned her head a few times before standing. She hit her head on a low ceiling beam, wincing, and sneezed suddenly at the onslaught of sweetly aged dust that showered her. It fell like weightless rain to coat the newly cleaned floor.

"Troubles?" she asked delicately as she tried to ignore the already swelling bump on the back of her head. Her eyes looked up the few inches to meet his, daring him to laugh, to comment.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine watched Saeryn try to mimic the lythe motions of a cat, only the bump her head on a low beam, sending dust raining all over the floor she had so meticulously scrubbed.

"Troubles?"

Eodwine smirked, but said no word about the ceiling beam and her head. He was aware of his hands hanging at his side, flexing slightly with a sudden scene that filled his mind in which is hands held his hostess close to him and his mouth was not busy with speaking.

"There's a fair today, and you're down here slaving. Why?"