Eorling Mead Hall

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"If that be the why of it, set aside your washrag and bucket and come upstairs with me."

Eodwine looked at her in confused wonder, waiting for her answer, hoping it would reveal more of her hidden thought.

"That, I suppose, is some of it." She spoke slowly, gathering her thoughts, careful to let nothing slip. Men! She allowed herself to think it for a moment. They never understand that some actions are not based upon logic. She frowned at the thought and ignored it. She respected Eodwine far too much to label him so half-heartedly, and understood her own work too little to think about it too critically. She knew that logic was missing in one of those thoughts, but Eodwine seemed to require one of two things... a legitimate reason as to why she should be left working, or an accompaniment away from it. Perhaps, she thought, if she left off working for a time, he would leave off questions that she could not answer.

"What awaits me upstairs?" she added tiredly.

[Undómë]

Away -- Wistan's farm - Dunstede

Rose came round the corner of the hall, pushing the long fine veil of netting away from her face, letting it hang down her back. Her leather gloves were stuck in her belt and she’d taken the ties off from round the wrists of her long sleeved tunic. As well, she had loosed those from her ankles that tied the cuffs of her breeches securely to her boots. She learned long ago that bees were very good at finding an opportunity to sting whoever bothered them. She damped down the little smoker-can she carried and set it down for later use on one of the benches at the end of the hall.

Her cheeks were red from the recent confinement beneath the veil; her brow damp with sweat. She swiped at it with her forearm, pushing the stray hairs plastered there back from her face as she did so. Her hair she’d done up in a twist at the nape of her neck was now undone, and the long dark gold tresses cascaded down her back to her waist.

She heard voices, not too far away. Her mother’s . . . and one other she could not place. A man’s . . . Rose hurried down the length of the hall and found her mother with a look of puzzlement on her face, staring up at a young man. From what she could see, the fellow did not look menacing, but she didn’t like the fact that her mother was alone with him.

‘Sir!’ she called out to him, as she drew near the two.

Cwen’s face brightened at the sight of her daughter. ‘Well, here’s my Rose!’ she said smiling. ‘She’ll get this all sorted out for you.’ She grasped her daughter’s hand and patted it affectionately.

Rose listened as her mother explained how she’d thought this fellow was the one come for the yearling pig . . . but he wasn’t . . . he was someone else altogether . . . not that she knew his name . . . he hadn’t told her yet, or if he had she didn’t recall it . . . but it was something about Lord Eodwine . . . and who was that, dear? . . . and he was needing coin for something as was due but not really yet.

‘Perhaps our guest would like a little refreshment, mother-mine. Why don’t you go back to the hall and set some of the lemon-balm to brewing. And the new crock of honey we gathered yesterday. We will be in directly.’ She watched with a fond look on her face as her mother picked her way back to the hall. Then turning back to the stranger, Rose narrowed her eyes, looking at him in a considering way.

‘You have the advantage of me. I do not know your name, sir.’ She paused for a moment, her brow furrowing. ‘And from the new lord, too? Is that so?’ She held out her hand expectantly toward him. ‘Might I see your papers of authority to transact his business for him?’

[Lalwendë]

The lads had been left alone for a while as Larswic was dealing with one of his 'regulars', a fair haired man who wore a good, but plain cloak and who laughed heartily at Larswic's jokes. He was after buying one of Larswic's good ploughing horses, but of course, before the deal could be done, there was a lot of banter to be covered. The two men talked of horse races, other dealers and breeders and then got onto matters of tax and dues. The boys soon started yawning once the interesting talk about who was up to what had been covered and the men fell to discussing Eorls and what they demanded.

Larswic had sent them off, irritated by their loafing about while he talked. Wultheof went to find some more bread and water as his head was still sore and his mouth dry after the last night's ale. He took it into a quiet corner of the Mead Hall and after he had finished eating, dozed off for a while.

He woke up feeling a little better and wandered back towards the stables. His father was nowhere to be seen, and he guessed he might be out with his customer trotting the horse before completing the deal. But he could not see Leocsley anywhere, and wandered around the courtyard bellowing his name, squinting in the sunshine. His head was now not so sore, but he felt groggy after his nap and he was not in the mood to have to go searching for his cousin.

Finally he went around to the back of the stables where a patch of land was bounded by a fence; on the other side was one of the many wooden houses of Edoras. From the other side of the fence he could hear Leocsley's laughter, and the sound of a girl giggling. He stomped over to see what was going on, and found Leocsley aiming his bow at a crude target scratched into the wooden wall of a storehouse. A girl of their age, tall and fair haired, stood by watching him.

"Who's this then? Your fair maiden?" said Wultheof with a sneer. Leocsley spun round, with an arrow still ready in his hand. Wultheof ducked down again behind the fence. "Fool! Put that thing down!"

"I'm just showing her how to use a bow is all," said Leocsley, going red in the face. He liked the girl, she was funny, and he wanted to show her how good he was at this. It was important to him that even girls knew what a good archer he already was, though he didn't quite know why he cared if girls noticed his skills.

"Wait til I tell my father you've been slacking off and playing bows 'n' arrows with lasses!"

"Tell him what?" said the girl, sticking out her tongue at Wultheof. "That you've been snoring away all morning while your cousin has been practising with his bow?"

Wultheof was taken aback by the girl's words, and she stared at him until he felt uncomfortable and he turned away. He stomped back towards the Mead Hall, kicking a stone as he went. He hated how all the lasses seemed to like Leocsley and ignored him. "Still", he thought, "they're only stupid girls." At that moment his father reappeared, alone and without the horse. He had a wide smile on his face.

"A good deal there, my lad," he said. "That's a man you can do business with. he knows who has the best horses, and he doesn't shirk from paying what they are worth, neither. How's about I treat you lads to a look round the Horse Fair itself? Where's Leocsley?"

[Celuien]

Lèoðern sailed over the heads of the folk assembled at the Fair. It was so very, very delightful to be there. Just when she passed one marvel, yet another rose ahead. There had been a puppet show, and a juggler, and a man with a pony that could count just as nicely as you could imagine. And, best of all, another who piped the most lovely melodies on a little flute that shone silver in the sun.

It was in front of the musician that the little group now stood. Lèoðern was quiet. For once! Her tongue, truthfully, needed a rest. For she had gone on more swiftly than the Mearas could gallop all morning until the flute captured her attention and brought her to rapt silence, her two eyes round saucers in her face. She had never heard anything so beautiful.

The music stopped, and Lèoðern's hands flew together. She clapped and shouted, "Again, again!" But though the player smiled at her, the music did not resume, and the flute's owner walked into a nearby tent.

"Oh, Linduial!" Lèoðern gushed. "Wasn't it nice? Did you ever hear anything like it?"

Linduial smiled, for she had heard many more polished performances from the best musicians in the west of Middle-earth. In comparison, she could hear that the performace was flawed (how many times had a false note been struck, or had a long note cracked in mid-breath?) and the melody quaint. Hardly the stuff of an evening's entertainment in Dol Amroth. But here, in the soft morning, and with the eager little girl and the highly interesting Degas, she could agree that the performance was very nice indeed.

Lèoðern beamed her enthusiasm, and cheerfully announced that she would one day play as well as the man with the flute. Degas laughed cheerily and wished her the best of luck, saying he was certain that she would do beautifully at anything she chose to try.

Just then, a white horse went past. Lèoðern instantly wrenched about and slipped off Degas' shoulders to the ground, causing both Degas and Linduial to start in fear that she would join the Hall's growing list of injuries. But a quick laugh assured them that she was unharmed, and tugging at her friends' hands, she pulled them away after the horse.

[littlemanpoet]

"What awaits me upstairs?" asked Searyn in a tone that could only be named bored.

What in Middle Earth? Eodwine shook his head, more fuddled than before. What had gotten into her?

"The horse fair. The sun! A fresh spring day! Ow!" he flung his arms wide, smacking his knuckles against a post. He sucked his knuckles, not tasting blood at least.

She just watched him with that tired look, as if eager to get back to her drudgery. He sighed.

"Very well. If endless work is what you wish for now, maybe you will break free of such a humor by means of work." He shrugged.

Silently she bent and picked up her washrag and soaking it in the bucket yet again, sank again to her knees and began scrubbing. Eodwine watched for a pair of moments before he turned and started back up the stairs.

"A pity," he threw over his shoulder as he climbed. "I had hoped to tell you my dream last night." He reached the top step and let the door fall to behind him. He went to Kara and told her to bring down a bit of food and drink to Saeryn, who seemed not to want to face the light of day. He sighed and made his way into the sun himself, and began to walk to the horse fair.

[Alcarillo]

Gárwine dined on breakfast alone in his room, but kept the door open so he could be first to know of the injured boy's condition. He was probably attacked when traveling through the city at night, Gárwine thought, and once he was beaten senseless, robbed. And what with the likes of Larswic's sons loitering outside at night, Gárwine couldn't help but feel that the boy should've been a bit more prepared. But then again, he could be new to Edoras. And country life is very different than town life. He remembered his life in Wilfrid's tiny village: serene and safe, though at times very dull.

Gárwine returned to thinking about the wounded boy, and Larswic's sons. It was not impossible for them to have attacked the boy. They were near the same age, were they not? And the sons' midnight laughter could just as easily have been about freshly robbed coin as about a lewd joke.

That's ridiculous, Gárwine thought, chasing the suspicions out of his head. The product of an over-imaginative mind looking for adventure, as my Uncle always said. Garwine finished his breakfast, and as he exited his room he remembered the horse fair was today. Hurrying down the hall, past the room with the injured boy, he found Eodwine near the cellars. Eodwine quickly gave Gárwine leave to visit the fair, and Gárwine bounded out of the inn, glad to be able to take a walk around town.

Gárwine walked through the streets, taking in all the marvels of the crowds. Street musicians played their music right in the road. Riders led their fine horses through the streets to the fairgrounds and the racetrack. People were everywhere. The entire Mid-Emnet had arrived for the occasion.

Gárwine headed to the racetrack first, to see the racers and their horses before the races began. He fingered the few bronze coins in his pocket, but wisely decided not to spend them gambling, remembering how Thornden had warned him against even playing dice. It's too bad Léof's foot still hurts, he thought. He would've liked to race his horse today.

He ambled past the racers, both because of the natural flow of the crowd and because the wanted to see the colorful pavilions and stalls built beyond the racetrack. There he saw innumerable shops selling treasures from all over Middle-earth. Such trade had grown rapidly since the end of the War, when the roads were made safer for the merchants. With four pennies Gárwine bought a little dwarf knife, straight out of the North. The stall-keeper said the best knives were all made by the dwarves, and Gárwine could not resist buying one. He continued browsing through the attractions. There was a group of acrobats tumbling across the ground, and more musicians, and more stalls selling their wares, and men on stilts in fanciful costumes. Wonder upon wonder from all across Middle-earth, and all here at the horse-fair.

[Kath]

Having been running around on errands all morning Kara wasn't best pleased when Eodwine headed toward her, his mouth opening to issue another one. However, when she learnt that Saeryn was still refusing to leave off her work even for a bite to eat, she felt that this errand was particularly important. The girl obviously wanted to be left alone to work herself out of this mood, but she wasn't going to manage that if she was faint with hunger.

Kara headed back to the kitchen and noted that Eodwine had been right. A few rolls and some cheese were missing, as well as part of a loaf of bread. Shaking her head she mentally scolded the thieves, before realising that her absence most of the morning meant that anyone requiring a later breakfast than the one she had set out had no choice but to take what they needed. Thinking she ought perhaps to mention this to Eodwine, and suggest setting up a table that guests knew they were allowed to help themselves from, Kara collected a few small items, hoping that if the food was presented in a way that would make it easy to eat Saeryn would accept it. Some bread, cheese and slices of fruit were soon on a tray along with a cup of water and Kara headed back to the cellar.

As she reached the corridor she found Frodides hobbling down the stairs. The woman seemed to be in some pain still, but on catching sight of Kara she straightened up and removed any trace of a wince from her face.

"What are you doing!" Kara asked curiously. "Æðel said you were to stay in bed and off that leg for two more days yet."

"Bedrest doesn't suit me." Came the reply, more snappish than usual due to the pain being hidden. "I don't like to take boons from anyone and while I'm laid up like this I'm not working for my keep."

"Lord Eodwine said -"

"Never mind what he said my girl, it's me you'll be listening to, unless you really intend to give some poor soul yesterdays bread."

Following Frodides' eyes to the tray Kara saw that the bread she had picked up was indeed old, and very likely stale. Blushing she berated herself for being so distracted as not to notice and looked up, expecting to find disapproval in the old cook's eyes, but instead finding a quiet amusement.

"No one would have noticed so don't you worry. Just let me be of use. Help me along to the kitchen and I'll run through what we've got and make sure this doesn't happen again."

Kara still hesitated. Æðel knew what she was talking about, especially with these lessons she was having now, and it didn't seem right to go against what she said. On the other hand, Frodides would be happier with something to do, and it would mean there was always someone in the kitchen when Kara had to leave it. Finally agreeing she put the tray down on the stairs and helped the woman to her old haunt. Leaving her sat comfortably in a chair with her leg propped up on a stool and a stick in her hands that she might whack the knuckles of anyone trying to take anything, Kara headed back out again.

Carefully making her way down the cellar steps with the tray in her hands she found Saeryn still scrubbing away at the floor, seemingly the same patch she had been doing moments earlier.

"How long does one bit of floor take to clean?" She commented, intending it to be a joke, but from the look Saeryn gave her it didn't appear that she had taken it as such, and from the look she was giving the food it didn't look as though she was going to give much consideration to that either.

"I'm sorry if you don't wish to eat." Kara cut in before Saeryn could speak. "Lord Eodwine asked that I bring you something and it isn't much, just a little bit of food that will help you keep going if you intend to do this all day. Most of our guests have gone now and Frodides is watching the kitchen so I may take my mid-morning snack with you if you don't mind."

Gathering her skirts she sat down on the bottom step and placed the tray in between her and Saeryn. Taking a piece of bread from the tray she bit into it and then looked at Saeryn inquiringly, silently asking if she intended just to watch or to join her.

[Firefoot]

Léof rode through the streets slowly now, taking note of the vendors and their wares, watchful for something his sister might like. Sometimes he stopped for a bit to watch entertainers perform; there were all sorts, and at any other time Léof would have found them delightful. Now, however, he grew ever more conscious of the groups of people swirling around, talking, laughing, enjoying themselves. Léof began to feel lonely. He would enjoy the fair so much more if only he had someone he could enjoy it with – Gárwine or Æðel would usually have been his choice of companions, but now… They had shown no remorse for him, only given him “it’s for your own good.” None of this was his fault; it was not up to him to make amends, was it?

More than that, he for the first time since arriving at the Mead Hall felt the waves of homesickness. Well, not homesickness, precisely, since he did not miss the situation he had left. Yet he missed his small comforting stable and the small cozy house and the old and fading memories of happiness and love. Most of all, he missed his sister Cerwyn. She had been his only friendly company for years; he knew her better than anyone. Three years his junior she might be, but she would understand his plight like none of them did.

He tried to shake off his bitterness and self-pity and only had partial success. He finally chose a particular booth that was not terribly busy and stopped there, eyeing the fine gems that had been made into jewelry.

“Trying to find something for a sweetheart?” asked the man there with a smile. “I have several nice pieces.”

“Actually, no, sir,” said Léof. “For my sister.”

“Ah.” The man could not wholly hide his surprise.

Looking the table over, one necklace in particular caught his eye: a several-faceted dark green jewel that reflected the sunlight faintly, strung on a light silver chain. It was not fine in the way Linduial’s jewelry was, nor elegant as something he would expect Saeryn to wear, but to his eyes quite beautiful, and just the color of his Cerwyn’s eyes. “How much for that?” asked Léof, fearing that the price would be far too high for his small budget. The man confirmed his fear by naming a sum more than twice what Léof could pay.

“Well… what if you took out the silver chain?” asked Léof. That could be easily replaced by a thin leather strip. But the figure the man gave him was still too high. Regretfully, Léof shook his head. “I haven’t got the money, sir.”

“Well, what about this over here?” asked the man, holding up a similar but not so fine lighter green jewel. Léof shook his head again. The other one fit his sister so perfectly. “No, I think I’ll just have to try somewhere else.” With a mournful glance at the necklace, Léof prepared to mount Æthel again.

“Now hold on there, lad,” the man said. “How much is it that you’re short by?” Léof told him, and the man thought for a moment. “I’ll give it to you,” he decided. “Without the silver chain, but I can give you a leather string if you like. Those come inexpensively enough.”

Léof broke out into a grin. “Yes, sir, and thank you.”

“You’re welcome, lad. Now here you go.”

Léof accepted his package and placed it securely in his pocket. With his spirits improved, he decided to make his way back down to the racetrack; the races would be starting soon and he intended to watch some before his chance came.

[Folwren]

Away -- Wistan's Farm - Dunstede

Thornden, unlike Rose, caught no hidden motive in Cwen's and Mayda's questions. They had asked at once of their new Eorl - why not be curious of him as well? They would, after all, (and providing Eodwine thought he worked well as steward) be meeting him at least four times a year. He had often heard of the curiosity of women, and he should have thought that sometimes they had reasons for such curiosity, but he didn't.

"I have no wife," he said, smiling again at Cwen's quick assumption of another match that wasn't. "And no," he added in answer to Mayda's questions. "I am not promised to any woman." He chose to ignore her rather blatant remark to his looks. "Doubtless if my mother or sister had any say in the matter at all, I would have been married years ago, but I avoided their whims and plans." Cwen, Mayda, and Ardith all smiled as one and Thornden wondered at the glance they all sent to one another. He gave one questioning look towards Rose, but she was looking rather hard at her tea with a strange smile on her lips, and she didn't offer any help or explenation at all.

"Well, that's a pity," Cwen said, but not looking at all as though it were. "I had hoped that I might know your wife. But come, tell me, might we know your family?"

"Likely not, ma'am," Thornden answered truthfully. "My father is a a free holder in the first Emnet. He rode with King Theoden to Helm's Deep, and later to Gondor, and he returned wounded, but not dead, and he didn't leave the farm again. My sister is married, and she now lives still in the same Emnet, on different land. A little time before she was married, I went to Edoras. There I worked to become Guard at Meduseld, and there I was for the past year, until I went to Eodwine and asked for a chance to be his steward. So I am really the only one of my family who has ever lived in Edoras."

They politely asked him how many there were in his family and he answered that besides the addition of Medreth's husband there were six children, he being the oldest. There fell a short pause then at the end of which Thornden thought it not very unpolite to ask a question that had begun to tug at his mind for the past five minutes.

"I don't mean to be rude, and it is very pleasant here, to be sure, but how much longer, do you think, until goodman Wistan returns? There are still several places I must go before I can return. Will he be much longer, do you suppose? I understand that one of your sons was sent?" He looked at Mayda expectantly.

[Folwren]

Away - Winstan's Farm - Dunstede

‘You wouldn’t by any chance know how to go about it, would you? Be a shame to let a good farm like that lie fallow. Be no one to pay the rent . . .’ Thornden glanced at her quickly and smiled again. He and Eodwine had not discussed such matters. There had been no time.

'Oh, no, I don't know anything about it,' he answered. 'Nothing except that you'd have to tell Eorl Eodwine himself. I can tell you what I think the answers would be, though. A good field like that lying fallow doesn't do anyone any good. I will tell him that you and your family would put the land to good use and would like to gain possession of it. I do not doubt that he will be happy to give you that wish.'

He'd remember, later, when he talked to Eodwine and gave his report. It was such a boon that the Eorl had asked people to ask of him. Something he could grant and welcome.

They rode in silence for a little while, until the came to the crest of a small hill. Fields were spread below them, the plowed and upturned rows running evenly in one direction to meet another corner where they ran in another. Thornden and Rose halted their mounts and his eyes ran swiftly over the early green fields.

'Things seem to be going well for you as it is. Are you certain you'll need that other field?' He looked almost mischeviously at her. She merely laughed lightly and started her mare again, heading down the the gentle slope. He cast another glance around and began to follow her. He had seen riding towards them, on the dirt roadway between two fields, a group of horsemen.

'There they are,' Rose called back over her shoulder. Thornden urged Flithaf into a trot and came by Rose's side.

'Who's all there? Your brothers and father?'

[Folwren]

Away - Wistan's Farm - Dunstede

Thornden thought he knew very well what Rose's brothers were about and he allowed Flithaf to edge away without argument or trouble. He sent an amused glanced towards Rose as her two brother's rode between them. In another moment, the father and two other men joined them.

"Wistan, good sir," the farmer greeted him. "And you are. . .the Eorl's new steward. . .yes? Sorry, my grandson could not remember your name. How might my family be of service to the Eorl?"

Thornden nodded in greeting. "Thornden at your service," he said. "I have been sent for two reasons by the Eorl. I know not if you know that lord Eodwine has been newly appointed by the king. He came into his place not two weeks ago and since has been working on setting up his lordship and also rebuilding the Mead Hall. He has suddenly become too short on coin, due to an unnexpected accident-" most accidents were unnexpected but he neglected to make that point "-and I have been sent out to collect what is due for this first quarter. My second reason was to take any boon or wish that you would have carried to the Eorl to him that he may grant it, if it is in his power, or, if it is not, do all that he can to fulfil what you need.

"Your daughter, Rose," he continued at once with a nod towards her, "has been telling me of the field west of you. The holder of it has recently died, I understand, and you would like to gain possession of it. That is such a thing that I could bring before him, and he would be able give you a fair and good answer." He would have added 'quickly' to the end of his statement, but it occured to him that Eodwine had been extremely busy of late and may not be able to get all of his free holders' wishes immediately.

"If you have anything else you would like said to him, or something else, as well, that you would like to see changed or granted you, I will take it to him and tell him."

[Folwren]

A new day and a new start, Thornden thought. Good luck, anyway. He held a letter limply in his hand as he stood at the window, half dressed for the day. His face had an odd expression on it and had anyone been there to see it, they would probably have asked him what the trouble was.

He watched a bird distractedly as it flew about at almost eye level with him, chasing a bug. It darted about, turning at sharp, startling angles, and suddenly it made a snatch with its beak and flew off.

Thornden blinked and sighed and looked down at the paper in his hand.

My Dear Thornden, it read, You quite astonish me, brother. I’ve not seen or heard anything of your for months on end, even though two months ago I’m sure you got my letter I wrote about your nephew. I’m quite astonished, though I don’t see why I should be.

I did receive your short letter telling me about your employment at the new Eorl’s Hall there in Edoras, however, and you may be happy, though surprised, to hear that I didn’t write only to tell you how shocked and disapointed I am in you, but also to tell you that I am coming to do it in person. Expect me on the 22nd, hopefully a few hours before noon.

I will be coming with someone accompanying me, but I may need an escort on my return journey. You will be good enough to arrange something?

Yours, etc. . .

The letter had arrived two days ago and Thornden had nearly leaped out of his chair. Medreth – here? It wasn’t so much that Medreth would be a bad person to introduce. . .just not one who he hadn’t visited in months when he should have weeks and weeks ago. . .how was he going to receive her and what was she going to say?

Thanks goodness the Lady Linduial has left! he thought as he picked up his shirt. Still. . .Medreth might go so far as to ask about Saeryn or Kara. He winced visibly and scowled as he picked up a comb. Women and their infernal opinion that everyone should be married instantly upon their twentieth year! All the same, he must face it like a man, he decided, and looked at the bright side of things. He would see his nephew and maybe his youngest brother. That would be enjoyable. And it had been a long time since he’d seen Medreth. Perhaps she wouldn’t ask him too many questions and maybe, just maybe, she would accept his excuse of being far too busy to slip away earlier and visit her. . .

He tugged on his last boot with a decided jerk and went out.