The Vineyard Tavern

[Nurumaiel]

When Bethberry had finished treating Andhun the two boys had wandered back to the table they had been previously seated at. Cynan looked about for Rochadan, for he would have to leave soon and he did not want to leave Andhun alone. The latter boy was studying the table with deep concentration though it was plain to see that his mind was focused upon something other than the table. Cynan slid his chair sideways so he was closer to his friend and he said, "Andhun, tell me what you're thinking of."

"I was thinking of how Bethberry treated me," said Andhun. "It was so interesting the way she made up the different medicines, and so soothing to my hurts." He paused a moment to collect his thoughts, and then he cast a gentle gaze to Cynan, smiling softly. "It must be very wonderful to have the ability to comfort people so."

"There are other ways to comfort them, Andhun," said Cynan. "I was watching you the whole time and you were not comforted not only by Bethberry's treatment of your wounds, but you were also comforted in spirit. Her kind and gracious manner filled you with a peace and joy I sense you have not known for a long while, and combined with her soothing treatment to your wounds I suspect you are a little overwhelmed with all the goodness of it."

"I am, rather," Andhun admitted, "and more than a little bewildered, for I have come to grow unaccustomed to such kind treatment."

They said nothing more for awhile, but sat in silence. Andhun contemplated with increasing wonder the kindness he had known at the hands of those at the Tavern, and Cynan was filled with gratitude that he had found this lad and had been able to lead him to these good people. Perhaps not far from this day someone older and more able than he himself would find him and help him and his family. But now he must look after his family himself, and he must tend to his mother. He turned to Andhun and took his good hand, holding it tightly. "I must return home now," he said. "My family will perhaps need me now. Rochadan will take good care of you, so you need not fear in my absence. Seek out also the young woman Miss Kellan with her dog Grimm. Both are kind. The girl Ærosylle, too, will befriend you. Goodbye for now, Andhun. I will return as often as I may."

"Goodbye, dear friend," said Andhun with strong feeling, and as his good hand was clutched tight in the hold of his friend, he clumsily and weakly raised his right arm and awkwardly in manner but not in feeling embraced Cynan. "You have saved me much pain and sorrow, and I can never repay you for it, but I will do all I may. When you return to visit, bring your family with you. I am sure they will be welcome."

"You are always welcome at my home," said Cynan, and his voice was thick, for he was moved at Andhun's display of friendship. "Goodbye." He hastily and self-consciously returned the embrace, though not without genuine fondness, and then he pulled himself gently from his friend's hold and hurried out the door. Andhun limped to the window and stood there waving, and Cynan turned with a wink and a returned wave before he went skipping down the lane. Andhun returned in a lonely fashion to his table.

[Esgallhugwen]

With Finian gone to fetch the wine and hot water, Thalinar picked up the tall brown coat rack and placed it by the fire taking off his wet cloak and hanging it to dry. He couldn't but grin picturing the face of the maiden Ædhral again, he would have never expected such, even though he was a raftsman from time to time when he wasn't wondering the entanglements of Mirkwood he usually tried to keep clear of Men.

But the Inn changed his view, after all it was run my a man though he is yet very young and all other staff that he had seen were of the like. He was shown kindness that he was unaccustomed to from their race, for they had treated him with no lack of contempt, perhaps he had just been in the presence of the wrong people who hold attitudes like that about everyone; Thalinar knew Elves did the same.

Thalinar shook his head, such unpleasant thoughts on such a sunny day should not be allowed, he laughed to himself and tried to straighten his hair out in front of the mirror by the bedside. Finian walked briskly back into the room after a few moments with basin and towels in hand, balancing the wine bottle as he set these things down on the table.

"Here you go, friend," he said, grinning.

He pulled out a corkscrew from his pocket and uncorked the wine taking up the fine crystal goblet and pouring the fragrant liquid with practiced skill.

"Much thanks Master Finian, I apologize for-"

Finian held up his hand to stop him, "theres no need to apologize for anything, a little puddle on the floor can easily be wiped up without incident, though Ædhral's crimson blushing is another story".

Thalinar nodded with a parted grin on his face, "if you need anything else Master Thalinar don't hesitate to fetch either myself or Ædhral" he winked and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The tall Elf sat on a wooden stool and pulled off his boots heavy with water. A small puddle poured out of each as he set them next to the fire place, he then untied his dark green tunic and hung it on the coat hanger followed by the light shirt he wore under it.

He picked up his travel bag and rumaged through it looking for soap and a sponge, which he found much to his relief. Thalinar sipped on his wine as he washed himself of mud and silt, lastly washing his hair with the fresh foaming soap.

Thalinar quickly wrapped a dry towel over himself when he heard knocking at the door, his hair dripping in his face he grabbed his comb and ran it through his glimmering golden hair.

Then he opened the door.

"Ye-" his words caught in his throat when he saw two wide eyes peering over the top of a pair of dry boots, they were the same eyes that grew wide before with blushing cheeks. His eyes couldn't help but widen in response.

"Oh, uh hello Lady Ædhral" he said awkwardly realizing he was only in a towel, it was only fitting that he started to blush.

[Nerindel]

Ædhral’s warm brown eyes widened in astonishment as their elven guest answered the door wrapped only in a towel, her cheeks burning she lowered her gaze and awkwardly thrust out her hands, “Uh, these are the clothes, master Finian asked me to find for you. I hope they fit, we don’t oft get eh, elven guests,” she flustered, still staring at the wood grain of the dusty floor.

“Thank you, I’m sure they will,” the elf answered, awkwardly taking the clothes in one hand as he tries to maintain his modesty by clutching the towel in place with the other.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Ædhral asked, praying that there was not so she could escape this embarrassing situation. Twice in one day and the same guest, no least could this day get any worse she thought bleakly, promising herself that if she got out of this situation she would spend the rest of the day hiding in the kitchen.

As she stared at the ground waiting his reply she wondered if he was just as eager to be out of this awkward situation as she was!

[Chathol-linn]

Many folk passed by the Vineyard Tavern on the main road. But if you approached it from the back, as Seregon did, you got a different view.

Seregon picked her way around the outbuildings, some under construction, so necessary for the running of an inn – a stable, sheds, privy, and so forth. She was hungry. She and her sisters had been tramping for days, sleeping rough, making for Laketown as it rebuilt itself. Now her sisters were waiting in a likely-looking field on the outskirts of the town while Seregon had a look around.

That apple tree looks good, Seregon thought. It is rare to see one spared by the dragon fire. I hope they don’t begrudge me a few apples. And Seregon began to climb the apple tree at the back of the inn. Whoever had lived here previously had taken good care of this tree, because its limbs were shapely with shiny healthy leaves and the fruit was already ripening. Seregon’s green breeches and tunic blended in so well that no one could have told there was a young woman halfway up the tree’s trunk. She stopped there to eat an apple.

I cannot pay for these, for that costs “money” and I have none, she thought. I can work, though, and I will work the better for having eaten some lunch. Maybe the innkeep will let me work for some food for my sisters, too. And maybe, just maybe, I can find the right person to ask about … But at that moment, in mid-bite, Seregon looked through a window into a bedchamber in the inn, and she nearly dropped her apple.

She saw the backside of a tall figure. He – for it was clearly a he – was partially wrapped in a towel and was scrambling to keep it about him while with the other hand he reached to take some garments from a blushing girl. Even through the window Seregon could see that her face was bright red. As Seregon watched, smiling, the tall figure lunged for the garments and in so doing, lost his struggle with the towel. The inn girl bent to pick up the clothes, the tall figure did so too, and Seregon saw them both knock heads and fall down in a heap.

Seregon laughed. “A merry old inn!” she said aloud. “I think I’ll try my luck!” She finished the apple, being sensible above all else, and headed for the inn’s front door.

Next thing the Vineyard’s patrons knew, there was a short slender woman standing in the doorway. She had a bowl-shaped head of black hair and a single braid behind her ear that was dancing as she waved. “Greetings!” she was saying. “Greetings!”

[Imladris]

Finian strode back to the common room, wondering where his sister was. Hopefully she was only having a conversation with the plates and not under the impression that she was a bird and had the capability to fly. He ran his fingers through his hair and wished that there was some way he could keep an eye on her...she was always scurrying about, skulking about when she became this happy. Why couldn't she be ina normal mood more often.

The door bounced open and a short slender woman shouted, "Greetings," waving her hand furiously in the air.

Finian blinked. Usually guests would just slip in with the shadows, or stump in, shaking of their weariness for a good pint of ale and a good bit of news. Finian could see the other guests' heads swivel in her direction.

Vaulting over the counter, Finian darted down the room, bowed, and said, "And what may I do for you?"

[Nurumaiel]

Andhun sat uneasily at his table, unsure of what he should do now that Cynan was gone. He thought he might seek out Rochadan, but he did not know the lay of the Tavern and did not want to risk being lost, just in case his master was still about. Instead he betook himself to the window to watch for Rochadan, and at the same time he watched those who passed by the Tavern, gazing studiously into the face of each. His attention was directed especially to the face of every little girl, trying to decide if she were his sister or not. He remembered her only vaguely, for he did not remember very much from before the fire. Yet he had those vague memories.

When the door opened and a short woman with black hair came in, calling her greetings, and she temporarily caught Andhun's attention. It was drawn away very soon, however, for another woman entered the room, silent and reserved, but with a quick, bright eye and a firm bearing about her. Andhun started and blinked several times, for this woman was almost the perfect image of his mother. Indeed she was the perfect image, save that she was still very young, certainly no older than one-and-twenty. She called out no merry greetings but merriness flowed from her, just as with his mother, who had always been a quiet one but with a presence of cheer and good will. This young woman had, like his mother had, dark hair that was between black and brown, and soft, shining blue eyes that looked here and there with warmth, as if bestowing good wishes to all they rested upon. Her step was quick and lively, and she moved with confidence and grace. Her face was lightly freckled from the sun, but they were also rosy from some recent exercise. As she cast her glance across the room, taking it all in for thoughtful consideration (for it was always what Andhun's mother had done), her eyes fell upon Andhun, and she contemplated his burns and scars, and a cheery smile flashed upon her face, and she winked at him before moving on.

He watched her with emotions swelling up in his heart, and he felt the heat of tears rushing to his eyes and he tried to drive them away. He felt an intense longing to see his mother again, and to put his arms about her neck and feel her gentle kiss upon his head, and to look up at her and say, "Mamma." Was it only a year since the fire, since he had lost his home and family? Since then he had felt a harsh kick in the place of a mother's loving embrace. The tears would not be held back, and so he let his head sink to the table so no one could see that he wept. If his mother were there she would take him and hold him and say, "Hush, my little darling, and don't cry. What have you to weep for, blessed as you are?"

A gentle hand ran through his hair, a tender arm went about his shoulders, and his head was pulled from the table and he was held close to someone. "Hush there, darling, hush," a soft voice said, and as he looked up in amazement his eyes met with eyes like his mother's. The young woman sat beside him, and with her apron she dried his tears, and then held out her hand to him, which was full of little sweets. "I do not know if it will be a comfort to you to eat them," she said, "but I do not doubt it would give you great pleasure to keep them with you and give them to whomsoever you choose." Andhun smiled at this, took the sweets, and put them in his pockets, and looked up at her once again. "Now," she said with no little degree of satisfaction, seeing that she had cheered him at least a little, "what was the cause of your grief?"

"I was just being foolish," he said, "and crying for my mother, who has been dead for some time now."

"Foolish?" The young woman with no little surprise. "It's never foolish, m'dear, to weep for your mother. Isn't she the one closest to the heart of every young boy? So don't be ashamed of that, or think yourself foolish, or any other such nonsense." She smiled in a bright way at him, and then spoke again, saying, "My name is Eacwen, and I will be staying at the Tavern for a little while at least. I do hope we can be friends."

"Certainly we may!" Andhun cried with strong feeling. "And I will introduce you to all those who have been kind to me at the Tavern so they may also be kind to you. My name is Andhun."

[Esgallhugwen]

Thalinar took the clothes that Ædhral had thrust at him, he ensured her that they would fit as he fumbled with his towel. She lowered her haze trying to hide her ever reddening cheeks.

He was about to apologize for yet another embarrassing situation when the clothes slipped from his grasp, he reached out for them as did the young maiden and their heads met with a smack and a hard landing on their behinds. Thalinar's luck held out and he was able to keep the towel in check, barely.

He steadied his gaze to Ædhral who was rubbing her sore head across from him, twice in one day and with the same girl, he wished to get out of this humiliating situation.

I should have stayed in the river.

He thought to himself coldly and stood up from the wooden floor, he clutched his towel tightening it around his waist and gave Ædhral his hand and pulled her up from the floor, he then stooped down and scooped up the dry clothes.

His head started to throb from the impact. "I must say that I am truly sorry, for both incidents, I had no intention to cause you harm or discomfort. Thank you again for the clothes it was very kind of you" he smiled weakly but warmly and closed the door to his room.

He sighed deeply and began to dress himself in the dry clothes, everything was a perfect fit. Thalinar was all too thankful for that, it would mean he could avoid another potentially uneasy situation that he would rather not have.

And if it could be helped he would try to stay in his room for as long as possible. He opened up the window and sat next to it with his goblet of wine in hand.