The White Horse Inn, Act III

[Alaksoron]

When they took a break, Eodwine said, "Korik you are as fine a flute player as ever I have heard! Where do you hail from? What news comes with you?"

"Oh, you might say I hail from many places. I am a nomad, traveling with the wind, never able to satisfy my wanderlust for strange places and people. I carry little news that you have probably not already heard. As for the flute, my uncle taught me to play. It is a fine instrument, when properly handled. And where did you learn to play the harp? Where are you from?"

[littlemanpoet]

"The harp has been in my family, passed from father to son for years beyond reckoning, so my father told me. He taught me as a child, and I took to it. I am from the Gap of Rohan, though I have not lived there since the War. These last few yearas I have been in the service of King Eomer, as messenger. Just yesterday I completed a circuit of the White Mountains. It took months!"

"What messages sent you so far? Or is that king's secret?"

"King's secret, yes, then Steward's, and Prince's. But the final message that sent me for afield, to Anfalas and Pinnath Gelin, was no secret. A landholder was summoned to Dol Amroth. Once I was that far west, it seemed ill to me to wend through all of Gondor and Anorien in a vast return trip, so I passed through the wilds in the west until the Gap of Rohan came in sight. But I did not tarry there."

Korik noticed the shadow that came over the messenger's face at mention of the Gap; Eodwine had been bright and eager and friendly in the rest of his telling.

"Something keeps you from your former home," Korik said.

"Aye. I lost my wife, son, and daughter at the hands of the Dunlendings while I was at the battle before the gates of the Morannon."

"That is ill. I am sorry."

"As am I," Eodwine nodded, and sighed. "So now I go where the king needs me, wandering myself, but happily according to the wishes of another. It is what I need, or there is no telling where I might find myself!" Eodwine grinned. "So where has the wind blown you of late?"

[Alaksoron]

"Where has the wind blown you of late?"

"Back and forth across the earth, Eodwine. Nearly everyplace you can think of, and some you cannot. I have even been to the home shores of Harad, once, a long time ago.

"I am in Rohan because I have heard the Rohirrim have excellent horses. I am an avid equestrian myself, and am purchasing many of the finest horses I can find. I may build a ranch and breed them.

"And what are your aspirations, Eodwine? Are you married?"

[littlemanpoet]

"Nay, I have no wife. I had one, whose memory I cherish. I wish for no other. As to my dreams for the road that lies ahead, I have none like yours. I love the lore of the War. Wherever I go I seek out the stories of all who are willing to share them, and I turn them into song if I can, or at least tell them to the loremasters in Edoras and Minas Tirith. But enough! Shall we make more music? And drink more ale?"

"Aye, let us do that."

Eodwine smiled and played along with Korik's tunes, nodding his head every time the ale came around again. Korik's questions had been fair, but they had stirred memories of a hearth and home that were gone forever. Ygirda lay beneath the ground, Eadbold and Ylena to her side. He knew the ground where they lay as if it were part of his skin. On his way back from Pinnath Gelin he had stopped at their mounds and planted new Evermind there. This day the sorrow grew beyond what it had been in recent months, and Eodwine did not know why. He sought the balm of drink to take away the sting.

They played all afternoon and into supper time, and after food, Eodwine felt his head swoon. He was sick. His head clearer, the ache of loss returned, all the worse for having been blotted out for a while. He returned to the Great room and picked up his lyre again. It was then that he remembered why the pain was stronger. It was on this day that he had crested the final rolling hill and saw not his beloved homestead, but a ruin. Eodwine ordered another ale.

[Alaksoron]

Korik cased his flute. There would be no more music tonight. Some of the men groaned, those who were not too drunk, but Korik just ignored them. He could tell Eodwine was troubled. He also felt a prickling between his shoulders he had come to realize meant imminent danger, an uncanny sixth sense he had developed as a Ranger in the borderlands of western Gondor. He carried the flute case to his room and slipped it under his bed. Something told him to lock the door on his way back out. He did.

When Korik reappeared downstairs there was a wide quiver full of arrows on his back beside a yew short bow slung over his shoulder. The bowstring was taut and waxed. His swordbelt was still around his waist, the scabbarded long sword on his left hip.

With a stiff-collared white cloak draped over his forearm he walked over to Eodwine and clapped him on the back. "How about taking a look at my horse now?" Korik himself had drank sparingly; Eodwine..... "Are you alright?"

[littlemanpoet]

"How about taking a look at my horse now?" Korik asked, then looked at Eodwine more closely. "Are you all right?"

"I am well enough. I have been sad today and only lately recall that it is the anniversary of my family's murder. That is why I have been drowning in drink." He rose, tilting off balance a little. "But I will come with you to the stables to check on Flithaf. I am sure the ostler here has done a fine job, but I would bid my steed goodnight."

Eodwine set down his lyre beside his satchel and walked next to Korik, who reached out an arm now and then to steady him as they made their way into the night. Korik passed into the stable ahead of him, and only then did Eodwine notice the quiver of arrows on his shoulder, and the sword at his belt.

"You are armed. Do you expect trouble in the stables? Or later tonight? The King's men have Edoras well guarded, though a sly thief or murderer could get through, no doubt. But all has been at peace lately."

Korik put his finger to his lips. Eodwine realized that he had been talking far too much, and closed his mouth. His head felt thick as soaked leather.

[Bêthberry]

OOC

A hearty welcome to Rohan goes out to new gamers who have demonstrated they can play or run games responsibly and successfully in The Shire.

The Perky Ent now joins the list of Rohan Game Managers. Perky did an especially good job of rallying the troups and covering for absent gamers in The Last Ride of the Heir for the entire duration of his game. Keep up that level of enthusiasm, Perky!

Responsible interactive gaming and good writing was demonstated in that game by astarielle, Eowyn Skywalker, and Hama of the Riddermark, who now join Rohan as Game Players. Congratulations to the three of you.

And some late summer additions come from Resettling the Lost Kingdom: Carrun, Lady Aerowen, and Osse demonstrated they can handle writing in Rohan well. Welcome!

Just a reminder: There are several gamers in The Shire who write well, with interesting characters and original ideas, but who have not stayed with a game or who posted so sporadically their absence caused great difficulties for the other gamers. Gaming in Rohan is more interactive, improvisational, and independent and so all members of a game must be reliable and knowledgable in how to keep a game going.