Eorling Mead Hall

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Indeed... weddings..." Saeryn looked down at her breeches and blouse and imagined a delicately fashioned gown and soft slippers. She grimaced. "Can you imagine? If I had stayed at home... I would be raising little ones already, no doubt. It's a rather terrifying thought."

Lin nodded, agreeing completely. Saeryn blushed suddenly, and Lin looked at her. She shook her head, repressing a silly grin. She remembered fondly the sweet stolen kisses in the shadows of the stables and held back a smile. He'd tended their horses for years unnoticed until one late afternoon, she'd seen him with new eyes. She'd known then that it could not end well... but she had thought herself in love. If no-one knew, than what would be the harm? Kisses and whispers in her ear...

She remembered how it had ended - so abruptly - and sobered. The smell of hay and the sound of rain on roof top as they stood hand in hand watching the sun set far beyond the clouds across the plains through cracks in the walls, the last desperate beams piercing through the rain to dance on their faces still lingered in her memory, and she remembered his eyes, so grey blue. She remembered his face when last she saw him, when he'd been sent away, and she remembered now how much she missed him. She would have married... she'd thought on it many times, always fruitlessly, and always sorrowfully. It could never happen; she knew that... she had known it then. If she hadn't been such a foolish girl... They always said that sixteen was the most foolish year...

Lin looked curiously at her, one eyebrow raised delicately.

"It's nothing." Saeryn lied. It was the past. Nothing had come of those stolen moments... that forbidden love she was not even certain had been real. He'd left and she'd stayed for years longer. But she still remembered how beautiful he'd made her feel. She longed for another man to treat her as an equal... to be her companion as much if not more than her love. But she'd done nothing then to compromise her reputation and she would not now. If she had nothing else, that remained.

[JennyHallu]

Linduial was young and innocent--but she had been trained in statecraft. She usuall knew when someone lied, but she also knew it was at the very least unpolite to point it out. If Saeryn didn't want to tell her about something, well, they'd only met that day. Her curiousity could wait.

She found a simple wooden quilt-rack in the hall where the rooms were, and snatched an especially warm-looking wrap, crying out in mock triumph. Saeryn grabbed another, and the two girls wrapped themselves up and paraded back down the hall toward the commons room. Linduial wrapped hers around her in a mock-bridal gown and processed down the hall, humming a march, then collapsed in a fit of girlish giggling against a wall. She had never really had a chance to have a friend her own age...

She looked down at herself, suddenly, still wrapped in her mock-cloak, and tried to imagine the bright-colored silks and and exotic linens her father had stored up for her against the day when she would wed. A strand of melancholy thought had twined itself around her, and she spoke before it occurred to her not to.

"I don't mind marrying, someday, and I'll marry someone as befits my House and standing; I've always understood that requirement--but I want it to be to someone that I love, not just some random lad whose father knows my father. Far too many men with sons know my father. But I've never had even a chance at a sweetheart. It's different here, things are so much less formal. At home we would never take our meals in the same room as folk such as are welcome as family here. Even Marenil is, well, a servant. My father's steward, and while his family is proud and old, it's...it's not the same. Here, he could be equal, or more near it. It is a strange difference, one I didn't expect."

Lin was babbling a little, but Saeryn merely sat against the wall beside her and--listened, just listened. Lin had never felt anything so wonderful as this tenuous freedom to tell a friend just what she felt. She hoped fleetingly that she wouldn't regret it in the morning.

"I don't want to marry until--I want to be kissed, and told I'm beautiful (I know it, but I still wouldn't mind being told,) and I want to hold hands with a man and take a walk, in the gloaming, with no one watching to make sure I follow all the rules. I want, for once, not to have a guardian, or if I must have one, for him to be blind and deaf, or willing to be for a little while. I want--" she paused, searching for a word that meant stars, and moonlight, and old ballads, and fairy tales, and impossibility.

"Have you ever been to the Citadel, in Minas Anor? From the Citadel at night, when the stars are out, there is a bench where you can watch the stars fall from behind the branches of the Tree, glimmering in the dark. You can see ghosts of the shadows of the mountains across the land, and there are stars on the ground, nestled campfires and homesteads to match the stars that fill the sky...I snuck out, while we were there, early in the morning, before daybreak. I watched the morning star, I watched the Moon set and the Sun rise...The feeling I had, while I set there, before one of the Queen's elven ladies found me...That's what I want. She knew it, too, just sat there with me until I was ready, said not a word...

"That's what I want. Freedom and the whole world in my eyes, before I return gladly to my tasks."

Lin stopped suddenly, surprised at herself. She had known that that morning on the Tower had affected her deeply, but she hadn't tried to put it into words until this moment. Saeryn beside her was nodding, slowly, as if she'd understood, and Lin was filled with a sense of quiet exultation. Perhaps...perhaps it was not too high a goal.

The two girls sat for a moment in silence, before Lin jumped up and wrapped herself back in the quilt, with a playful, childish light in her eyes. "I wish I had a cloak like the Fellowship had..." (for all their deeds had passed into legend) "I would hide behind rocks where no one could see me, then jump out as people walked by!" She laughed merrily, and led the way back into the common room, wondering anew if she would regret her honesty later.

[Firefoot]

Léof was greatly relieved and much more comfortable when feasting and high spirits took over the hall. He piled his plate high with the tasty-smelling food and looked around for someone to talk to or at least someplace to sit down. He considered joining Gárwine, the only one whom he really knew, but then he noticed that the serving girl – Æðelhild, he thought he had heard someone say – standing by herself. He watched her for a moment or two, wondering if he should wander over towards her. She seemed to be about his age and felt much more approachable than, say, the young noblewoman Linduial.

With his mind made up, Léof approached her with a light smile on his face. “I don't believe we have been properly introduced,” he said, “but you looked like you might like some company. My name is Léof.” He had already grown tired of using his full name. He did not dislike it but rather found it tiresome and rarely used it. Only his father had ever really called him Léofric.

She smiled and introduced herself in kind, but Léof thought he saw a trace of something else in her expression, though he could not think of a reason for it. Her only contact with him thus far had been when she poured his and Gárwine’s mead cups… had one of them said something to disturb her? The idea seemed strange, as they had only been discussing the Dunlending, nothing that should have impacted her. Yet what other reason for the look? Already Léof was confused, and they had barely said anything to each other.

But he did not feel quite comfortable trying to clear up this confusion right away – he didn’t know anything about her, and the question could be considered rude. And if it was anything big, as Léof suspected it might be, he doubted she would tell her problems to a virtual stranger. “So how long have you been working here?” he asked. “And what is it like?” He really was curious about this – especially about the people, with whom he had thus far had so little contact. The concerns of the day had been so largely constructed around the Dunlending and then Marenil, so that Léof had not really even considered what the ‘regular’ people around here might be like. He did not even know half their names, but perhaps Æðelhild would be able to tell him.

[littlemanpoet]

"Now I want to know," slobbered Garreth, "what became of Gob and Twiddle! That tale never got done, and I think it ought to get carried on!"

"Then say away," Eodwine retorted, "but swallow your food and wipe your mouth first so poor Æðelhild doesn't wear half your supper by the time you're done!"

Garreth grinned good naturedly. "I had that coming. And that scrumptious little morsel needs none of my food chunks to look the more winsome!" Garreth winked at the already blushing Æðelhild gamely, clearly thinking that he had laid a most cunning compliment upon her. Æðelhild giggled in embarrassment for the lout. Meanwhile his brother Harreld coughed loudly by way of stifling a mockish guffaw. "But about that tale. What say you, Master Falco Boffin?" With that, Garreth took another mustache soaking swig of ale.

In between puffs on his pipe and swallows of his ale, Falco eyed Garreth with a measuring glance. "You'd hear me tell the tale? Let's see then, the last we heard of them, they was-"

"Hold!" cried Eodwine. "It is not right that we should start in the middle of the tale with so many new folk who've never heard it. Are all who know somewhat of it sure it's worth the retelling?" Eodwine looked around and saw nods of heads from those who had had a part. "Good! Then let's spend this evening telling it over, as best we may from memory, and maybe better for having heard it once and adding somewhat to it! I'll begin."

"Do not forget," cried Saeryn, "the game we chose to play with the tale!"

"Indeed!" Eodwine replied with a smile. "The tale is passed from teller to teller as the whim takes us. Let us reckon for now that those who told the tale as far as we've heard it, say their part until we're caught up; and if part has been told by a guest who has traveled on, I will do my best to recall those words."

With that, Eodwine embarked on the tale of Gob and Twiddle, from the very beginning in which he told how they looked and acted. Then he told how old Bill Ferny had press ganged them into Sharkey's service. He continued with the tale of how Gob and Twiddle were marched right into Hobbiton where they smelled the awful mill of Ted Sandyman. At this point, Saeryn picked up the tale of Gob and Twiddle's plan which seemed to involve something called sherbet. She handed the tale back to Eodwine, who related that which had been told by one Brokhelm, about how there were whisperings of gold. Now Falco joined in, recounting how he had first met the two slackers.

Once Falco had finished his part, he called for more ale. Once Æðelhild had refilled his and others' cups from the ram's horn (which had required three refillings, so this gave everyone a bit of a break from tale-telling), Eodwine reminded her that it was her turn to have a pull at the yarn, for she had told the next part. She took a deep breath and related the incident of the shirriff's feather. Now Eodwine picked up the tale again, in which Gob and Twiddle told Falco their plan. Next, Falco demanded the right to tell old Ruthven's next thread of the yarn, in which Gob and Twiddle discussed the finer points of dressin' an' undressin'. Eodwine related Brokhelm's next bit, in which the prospect of baths entered into the plan. With some embarrassment, Eodwine came to the part of the tale in which he admitted not knowing what came next. Falco came to his rescue yet again with the an aside regarding Bill Ferny. Falco wrapped it up as far as it had got: "And them southern men were the worst."

"Now that's a dire way to stop!" Eodwine said ruefully, but then Bethberry's friend came and the next thing we knew, she was gone, then I was off to the King, and then I'm handed the whole of the Middle Emnet and this Mead Hall, and in all the muddle of it, the tale of Gob and Twiddle had been forgotten until now! And great thanks to Garreth for reminding us!" With that Eodwine stifled a large yawn. "All that tale telling has made me tired. It is late, for the sun's well past its setting, and there is much cleaning to do! Frodides will not be happy come morning with so many ale cups to wash first thing! Who will help me take the load off our cook?"

[JennyHallu]

Linduial heard Eodwine's offer to help with the dishes with a sense of mild shock. He was the lord of the hall, and he did the dishes with the others? She remembered telling Saeryn that the rules were more relaxed here, and let out a brief, but loud, chuckle. She had no idea.

Her laugh however, had turned heads toward her, and Eodwine was looking at her expectantly. Here's your chance, you silly girl, she thought. You know you need to speak to him in private.

"I suppose I could help," she answered him, with a winsome smile, and jumped up nervously to follow him to the kitchen. "I owe you more for your hospitality and care of Marenil than can be repaid with a few chores"

"But I have to confess," she added, once they were out of earshot of the rest. "I've never actually washed dishes before...and if I break something, remember I warned you in advance."

[Nerindel]

It had been an eventful day and as the others set about supper Æðelhild took a moment to step back and reflect, the tension surrounding their new bard seemed to have lifted, at least for the time being she thought seeing Garwine’s surreptitious gaze pass idly over the dunlending as he ate. Their guest Marenil, was now comfortable and resting after his ordeal, the Healer having left strict instructions for him to get plenty of rest and to refrain from any strenuous work or travel. He had then left in her care the herbs and instructions required for a weak tea that would help the old man regain his former strength . “Three times a day for about a week should suffice I think, but I will check up on him before that just to be sure,” he had told her. Then he took Eodwine quietly aside, she assumed to inform him of their guests condition but several times she felt their gaze pass over her making her feel uncomfortably nervous.

After that she pretty much kept out of the way, busying herself, with the tasks she had planned to do earlier and it wasn’t until near supper time that she reluctantly returned to the hall. But the merriment that she found as she entered held her much at ease. So much so that as Searyn and Eodwine began to dance she picked up her pipes and joined in the frivolity. But the bards tune turned then suddenly as he sang a sorrowful ballad, a strange choice she had thought, but beautifully sung none the less and though she understood not all the words in the bards strange dialect, the sorrow and loss within the notes of the song moved her, reminding her again of her own loss and sorrow.

It was then that she became aware of a voice cutting into her thoughts. It was the new Stable master, he was smiling as he offered his company and politely introduced himself, she smiled in return though the memory of the young mans conversation with Gàrwine still wavered nervously in her thoughts. “My name is Æðel,” she answered nervously.

“So how long have you been working here?” he asked. “And what is it like?” he seemed genuinely curious and Æðel relaxed a little as she followed his gaze towards where the others where seated.

“Not long,” she answered . “Barely a week if truth be told, it was the innkeeper of the old White Horse who gave me employment, but Lord Eodwine is a kind and honourable man and chose to continue my employment and for that I am most grateful!”

“I don’t know what I would have done if he had not,” she sighed not fully aware that she had spoke her thought aloud.

“But what of your family, couldn’t you return to them?” Leof asked with a hint of hesitation in his voice.
Then seeing her pained look, he thought maybe he had been to bold and tried to apologise. “I’m sorry I did not mean..”

But she stopped him then, “No no it’s ok,” she assured him. “My mother died when I was little so I never really knew her, I was raised by my Grandparents and my father in Minas Tirith. My grandmother had a weak heart and died three years past this fall, that’s how I knew that Hagehorn would help master Merenil.” she paused then for a moment then continued, “My grandfather and my father both served in Gondor’s army and I was placed in the tutelage of the healers in their absence, but after the victory at Morannon they never returned, so now it is just me.” She smiled weakly, deliberately leaving out any mention of her uncle and the tragic events of the night that had forced her leave her home.

“But anyway,” she suddenly smiled brightly, trying to deflect from the morose misfortunes of her family and sensing the beginnings of an uncomfortable silence. “if you really what to know what it’s like here, you have merely to sit awhile and see for yourself.”

She grinned then inviting him to join her at Eodwine’s table. “I’m sure Master Falco will entreat us to a tale or two if pressed,” she said pointing out the stout halfling who was now eagerly helping himself to seconds.

“Then there are the twins Garreth and Harreth local smiths who are friends of our lords and sup oft in the inn or hall as it is now to be known. Garreth can be quite encourageable at times,” she chuckled to herself, recalling the formers garish manner, “but his brother more than makes up for the subtlety his twin lacks, she assured him.

Leof nodded with interest, as he followed her to the table. They sat then for awhile enjoying both meal and company, while Æðel suitably introduced him to those he did not know, but all to soon the feast had ended and Eodwine called for help with the clearing up. To her surprise the young noble woman Linduial agreed to help Eodwine with the washing up, while Gurdyn and Searyn each took up brooms and began sweeping the hall floor, Æðel with the help of Kara and Leof carefully cleared the table taking empty dishes and mugs through to Eodwine and Linduial for washing, and though she thought it improper that they should be doing the work she did not say so.

“I should check on the horses before I turn in for the night,” Leof was telling her as they left the kitchens. She nodded her understanding, offering to help if she could. He smiled and nodded, saying that he may need some help refilling any empty buckets they found. Then lighting a small lamp they crossed the yard to the stables.

[Firefoot]

Thus far, his conversation with Æðel had piqued his curiosity further rather than lessened it. She had told him much of her family, yet Léof sensed that she was not telling him all of it. He would not pry, as he understood well the desire for concealment, but still he wondered. This did not stop him from enjoying her company greatly; they seemed to have much in common, and conversation came easier with her than it had with Gárwine, who had sometimes seemed worlds beyond his experience.

The stable was dark, lit only with the small lamp that they had brought from the hall. A few horses shifted in their stalls at their approach, but mostly the stable was quiet. Léof and Æðel moved down the aisle, collecting any empty buckets from the stalls to be filled from the trough. Now, perhaps, would be the right time to ask the original question that had been bothering him. He hoped that it would not be too pushy, as she had not seemed eager to talk about any events after the war.

“Earlier today,” began Léof hesitantly. “I noticed that when you were pouring my and Gárwine’s cups, you seemed rather disturbed. I hope it was not something that one of us said.”

But she only shook her head. “I had been reminded of something that would perhaps be best left alone,” Æðel responded finally.

For a moment, Léof did not say anything. She did not quite trust him yet, but he was not sure that he expected her to. She really knew very little about him. Perhaps… perhaps the best way to inspire trust would be to give it. And if her story was not common knowledge, if she had secrets too, then his story would not likely around to the others. But…

“Let me tell you a bit about myself,” said Léof. She cocked her head slightly, showing that she was listening, and Léof continued. “I have lived on my family’s farm in the West Emnet all my life, and I was mostly happy. But six years ago now my mother died, and after that, my father… changed. Sometimes he drank, and he was always hard on both me and my younger sister, finding fault in everything we did. I often escaped out to our small stables, just to be away from him and his fault-finding, and many nights I even slept out there. Finally, it was getting to a point where I couldn’t take much more, and I probably would have left had it not been for my sister. I started standing up to him more and more, and our last argument about two weeks ago ended in him throwing me out of the house. I took my horse, Æthel – interesting how alike to your name hers is – and without anywhere else to go, I decided to come here to Edoras in hopes of finding some work, not only to support myself, but also to hopefully bring my sister here eventually. She’s thirteen, now, and I don’t imagine that it will be very long before my father tries to get her married off. Enough people turned me down that I can’t tell you how glad I was to find that Eodwine needed workers here and was actually willing to take me on.” After the torrent of words, Léof’s rather abrupt stop seemed to echo in the quiet stable.

They walked a few steps in silence before Léof said, “I don’t expect you to tell me anything you don’t want to tell, though I won’t deny I’m curious.” He smiled sadly and shrugged slightly. “But I do understand something of hardship, and starting over. Sometimes you don’t want everyone to know. But… if you want to talk to anyone, you can trust me.”