Eorling Mead Hall

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Degas rose later than he had meant. The revelry of Larswic's sons had kept him awake for longer than he was content with. He'd slipped out of doors in the wee hours to see what troubles they were causing themselves and, content that they were no harm to anything but perhaps their next day memory, he had let them be. Eodwine would care for their irresponsibility if it was required. Degas had simply intended to make certain that they were harmless in the short term. Still, if they chose to make such actions a tradition, he would have a word. Saeryn had spoken to him of equally interrupted sleep and Degas suspected that Lin's may have been restless as well. The lord's hall hosted children that needed their rest and the sick that needed nightly quiet, among many others.

He thought of this as he washed, finding clean clothing folded neatly and smelling of light spring breeze and something else he was uncertain of; when he did his own washing, if he could do it before she found it, it was clean, yet it did not have that light scent of something extra. Degas had no idea how Saeryn managed it, but she was simply good like that. No matter how often he tried to shut her from his room, she continued to silently slip in and take care of him. He smiled. His twin liked to pick up after him and see to it that he was content, and she would never accept his gratitude. A pert laugh and a tart comment would be all he would get for it, he knew. He would ask Lin, he thought, how best to thank his beloved sister.

He thought of Saeryn. She was tired. He could see it in her eyes, though he doubted any of the others noticed it. No, Eodwine, he corrected himself. Eodwine has seen it as well. Since the fall of the wall and the influx of so many guests, she had worked herself harder than Degas thought necessary. He could find her at times that she ought to be resting, on her knees, scrubbing the floor of an unused room. Perhaps he would have a word with Eodwine, though Saeryn would scold him to near death if she were to find out about it. He shook his head and pulled his damp coppery locks into a horsetail.

Securing a coin purse and a dagger to his belt, he checked himself over to see if he'd forgotten anything. Coal black boots clean and on; dark brown breeches tucked neatly into them; shirt buttoned and tucked in; belt cinched. He caught himself worrying over his appearance and pushed it out of his head. There were plenty of ladies, he told himself, that he could have if he wanted them. There was no reason to worry what this one thought of him. He shook his head and called himself hopeless and grinned for a second in knowledge of his own lack of seriousness of his past thought. Tell himself what he may, he knew that he took care in his appearance over the past few days for one lass in particular.

She had done everything to him but acknowledge his continued existence, except in circumstances wherein it would be impolite to remain silent. When Degas spoke to her, and he sought opportunites to do so, she seemed preoccupied. Degas had approached Saeryn to learn if the lass had a pair of warm arms waiting at home to pull her close upon reunion and Saeryn had laughed at him and left him in more confusion than he had already felt.

Pulling a pair of sweets from where, upon his neatly folded bed, he had left them, he opened his door and made his way toward the early noise of tired voices murmering communication. A lad was injured; Eodwine assured Degas that he was in the best of care and not to worry.

Degas followed the sound of a lovely light voice and found she for whom he searched. He smiled at her and she blushed. Kneeling to her level, Degas spoke to Lèoðern, and her father at the same moment.

"Have you yet had breakfast, m'lady Lèoðern?" Garstan nodded behind the little girl as she nodded wide-eyed. Degas proffered a piece of chocolate to her, balanced upon one knee. Her eyes widened, if possible, further. "Then please take this."

As her small white hand took the candy from his large, callused one, Degas bade Garstan good morning, asking of his health and his thoughts of the weather.

Carefully ignoring Linduial, Degas complimented Garstan for a job well done, admiring the tight fit of the stonework before him. Finally, carefully, Degas turned to Linduial, hiding the second piece of chocolate in his hand.

"Good day, my lady." he murmered, brushing her own hand with his lips. As he released it, he tucked the chocolate within it. "I heard mention that you planned to attend the festivities today. I've come to beg of you a favor..."

[JennyHallu]

Linduial mentally cursed her revealing blush. You've been working too hard at this to let him get to you that easily! she scolded herself, taking the moment he leaned over her hand to school her features into their proper disinterest. When she found herself the possessor of a rather sticky candy, she almost laughed in delight, but caught herself handily. Trying a little hard, wasn't he? Saeryn was right. Except...he surely doesn't think my heart is as easily won as Léoðern's, to be swayed by sweets and manners. But...he is such a dear. Lèoðern is completely charmed, and I as well. Mustn't show it!

She tucked the chocolate away into a handkerchief she pulled from her basket, smiling at Lèoðern's sticky happy face. "Thank you, Degas," she said smoothly, in the calm, friendly tone she used with strangers. "You remind me of my brothers; they always used to give me such things when I was a child."

Oh, Lin, that was mean, she told herself, laughing inwardly at the look on Degas' face. You'll have to try harder, my dear. I love watching you try... "I hope you don't mind if I save it. I don't like to eat such sweet things before a proper breakfast. And what favor might I do you? Please speak quickly, Lèoðern and I have much to do, if her father agrees she might accompany me today."

[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.