Eorling Mead Hall

[Kath]

Pleased to have received a positive response to her idea from Eodwine, Kara headed back to the kitchen. People were already popping in and out. The day was shaping up to be a busy one and everybody had their own things to do before Court began, including Kara. She had almost forgotten that she was here only on a trial basis what with everything that had happened since she arrived, and she sincerely hoped Eodwine would keep her on.

But enough of that for now, she told herself, shaking her head to clear it. Whether she was cook or not after this session of Court she still had lunch to prepare. No point in letting people starve now. Realising she was beginning to think like Frodides spoke she smiled, and then remembered that her mentor was to decide her fate today as well. Before her accident Frodides had intended to leave once Kara had proven herself a worthy cook. In the past couple of weeks though, the woman had been speaking of what she would do once she was up and about again properly, and it had all centred around the Hall. Kara hoped this meant she had changed her mind about leaving, but dared not ask for fear it might sway Frodides to stay when she didn't truly wish to.

Having finished getting lunch ready so that it simply needed to be taken out to the tables Kara changed her apron for a clean one and turned to Frodides, who hopped off her stool, able to walk with nothing to aid her now, though she still retained a slight limp.

"Come on then girl, we're to find out how we'll be living our lives after today, and we can't know until we get there."

They reached the Hall a few minutes later and took their places, Frodides muttering quietly that they had set off too early as not everyone was here yet. Kara didn't share her sentiments. She'd never really been involved in anything like this before, and was keen to observe as much of it as she could.

[Nogrod]

They had come to Edoras because of the horse fair. There was always work for carpenters in fairs like this. Stigend had soon been enlisted to the workforce and had been building different stages, fencings, pens and the like for three long and laborous days with all the other hired hands. His wife Modtryth had made it to the workforce too – despite her outlook - preparing the canopies and serving as a general maid preparing food, taking care of the children and so on. Their 8-year old boy Cnebba had had the time of his life with so many other children around, running amok as their hired-hand parents had too much work to do to watch after them.

So Stigend was a carpenter, son of a carpenter. That’s the way it goes. Though he had rebelled against his family and the afore-laid career already in youth, enlisting to the local Men-of-Arms at the age of 16. But he never got used to the discipline of an armed militia or the hierarchical system involved. So he had returned and taken willfully to adopting his father’s trade. His second and the more serious rebel against his family concerned his marriage with Modtryth. “There will be no Dunleding blood in our family! Not a half-Dunleding, not fourth, not eighth, not any! You just realize that! And behave like a decent Rohanian! There are fine ladies to marry out there, and you come up with this Dunleding-monster!”, his father had bellowed to him, as he had told about his intentions to engage with Modtryth, a half-Dunleding.

They had tried to live in peace in their community as an odd pair for several years, raising their firstborn and getting some income from temporary carpentery and maiding. But it had been hard, sometimes unbearable because of the insults and the general scorn, not to mention the actual offences. When Modtryth’s mother accidentally died, they lost their last actual tie to the village they lived in and decided to hit the road. After that they had wandered around the countryside, taking a temporary post here and there. That kind of life had now lasted almost four years to date.

After the horse fair was over, and the workers were pulling down the constructions of the fair, Stigend was approached by one of the fair’s organizers, a man called Rumstan. His friend, a somewhat renowned Sir Byrthold needed a few handy carpenters to build an extention to his house as his stature was climbing up. Stigend was happy to have been picked from the lot, but also weary of having to serve yet another Lord or Sir or something. There was use for the money, but these “better people” just gave him the shivers. They were the ones who didn’t accept other kind of people and who despised ones like his son and wife. To his eyes, they seemed all to think that only strawhaired and blue-eyed people were humans to begin with. And only his sons piercing dark-brown eyes had led to contempt so many times already on different places they had lived in. Anyway, he accepted the offer because of the money involved – these “Sirs” could afford a nice pay if the work was well done.

By the time Stigend was working at Byrthold’s house, both he and Modtryth heard about the local Mead Hall being under renovation. “Think about it. That, if something, would be our chance to get a place - a good place actually - to stay and work in.”, Modtryth had remarked to him the day she had heard of the renovation. She had given him a sharp look and added: "For a bit longer while this time, maybe. You should really try to apply there."

“Those are those fancy folks living in a Mead Hall. You know them! I don’t think they will look at us too kindly there either. Remeber that Dunleding incident at the fair? What would they think of you, or Cnebba? You know the ways of these better people...”. Stigend hadn’t exactly tried to hide the poignancy of his words.

His wife had looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Nevertheless you should try to apply. You know I've managed with those lordly swines all my life. Funny, one could imagine you were the one with a Dunlending background" she had commented. As Stigend had opened his mouth to say something, she had continued: "As to Cnebba... You can't protect him from despise all his life. He has to learn to deal with it, as I have learned. And besides, not all rohirrim are like that. I believe they will treat our little darling well. If they don't, well, we'll deal with it... This is our chance. It is unlikely that we get another as good an opportunity very soon"

“But why not to try somewhere out of the sight of these pompous lords? Edoras is swarming with them! We should try and find a community to live in – not once again hiring ourselves to some lord who doesn’t care about us as humans but only as work provided!”, he tried to argue his wife for his case not to apply to the Mead Hall.

And this way they had gone to and fro with the discussion or argument, it depends on how you look at it. In the end Modtryth had gotten her will. She had managed also to force Stigend asking lord Byrthold for a letter of recommendation for him.

Sir Byrthold was a busy man and seemed somewhat annoyed by Stigend’s request for an audience. But then again, he had been happy with the effectiveness of these three carpenters his friend Rumstan had hired him, and the quality of the work had delighted him. So he allowed Stigend in. “A recommendation? What for, may I ask?” he had asked wryly from a bit trembling Stigend as he had come forwards with his cause. “For the Mead Hall you say... So you would like to work there?” Surely lord Eodwine had grown in stature, and it could be counted on Byrthold’s credit if he would in this way help Eodwine to get good workers enlisted. But Byrthold had also heard rumours about this man’s wife and child. Well, Eodwine is one of those stranger-lovers, he might even appreciate this. And if some of my friends come asking about my recommendation, I could always say, that I gave it to this decent Rohanian chap only – maybe I didn’t even know about his wife and the child..., Byrthold thought to himself and happily made his signature to a paper that was then to be filled by his clerk.

That evening Stigend and Modtryth embraced each other warmly the first time for a long time. Not that they were not getting along together, but there just hadn’t been that spark about them for a long time. Now everything looked somewhat promising. Although all was still open and Stigend had his doubts – as always. The next day could decide very much of their future.

But there is that court tomorrow... Will that high lord have time for our kind of people at all? I hope Modtryth is right in her hunch that this lord Eodwine is better than most of these lords and sirs. With these thoughts Stigend closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep.

[Thinlómien]

”Come on, Cnebba! We don’t have the whole day to waste! Your dad’s going to apply for a job to day and we’d better be there before noon. Hurry up now!” Modtryth shouted to her son who was examining a bug he had found from the roadside. Cnebba pulled a face at his mother and hastened to his parents’ side. Modtryth had lifted him to the wagon and took the reins of the horse. Her husband Stigend, who usually led the horse looked a bit surprised, but said nothing and began to walk beside the wagon. The boy immediately started questioning his father about bugs’ life. “What do they eat? Where do they sleep? What do they dream of? Why do they have shells?”

Modtryth was amused to watch the two strawheads very like in appearance, her husband and her son, side by side, the smaller one babbling all the time and the bigger one trying to answer the flood of questions a bit absent-mindedly. Stigend seemed a bit worried as he walked beside the wagon. Modtryth didn’t know if he was still agonising over how his family would be treated or whether he had moved on to agonising would he get the job or not. Modtryth, on the contrary, was confident. She knew her husband would get the place, especially since he had the recommendations from Lord Byrthold. Furthermore she knew that however arrogantly they would be treated, they could deal with it.

Prejudices. Modtryth herself had dealt with them all her life. Her dark brown hair, brown eyes and complexion that was darker than most of the Rohirrim’s had gathered ignorant, unfriendly, despising and even hostile glances wherever she had went in Rohan, her homeland. And all that only because she had happened to have a Dunlending mother.

As they passed by a crossing, Modtryth noticed a couple she had worked with in the Horse Fair. They were talking with a merchant, apparently negotiating about the price of a kettle they were about to buy. The woman noticed Modtryth and waved to her, smiling. Modtryth waved back and continued her way to the Mead Hall.

That couple, like so many other people before them, had first despised Modtryth and tried to avoid her, but in the end their prejudices had been won by Modtryth’s fluent rohirric – her mother tongue, her apparent friendly and humble bahaviour and her diligence. She was sure that if the people in Lord Eodwine’s Mead Hall would give her a chance, she would prove their possible prejudices wrong. It was not herself she was worried about.

It was little Cnebba, with his huge brown eyes and the ability to get involved in everything he should not that worried Modtryth. The boy had showed his tendency to get into trouble during the years. Furthermore, his curiosity and his endless hunger for knowledge could be able to make the things even worse.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Cnebba’s question. “Is it that big building over there?”
“Yes”, Stigend replied and thereby volunteered to be the target of the question flood.
“Why does it look broken?”
“It’s under renovation. That’s why we’re going there. We’re going to help to fix it.

As they reached the Mead Hall, they saw lots of people outside the building. “Why are they all here?” Cnebba asked. Modtryth and Stigend glanced at each other.
“Because Lord Eodwine is holding a court today, dear”, Modtryth said, taking the turn to answer.
“Why is he holding a court?”
Modtryth sighed. “That’s what lords do”, she said simply.
“The people need justice”, Stigend added. Modtryth catched a trace of sarcasm in his voice. Maybe he was referring to the Dunlending incident in the Fair.
“Why do they need justice?” Cnebba asked.
“So that criminals would be punished” Modtryth answered, at length. She felt a bit uncomfortable with the discussion so she decided to change the topic and turned to her husband: “Now we just need to find a place for our horse and our wagons.”
“Easier said than done”, said Stigend.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn's eyes locked with Eodwine's and the Hall around them disappeared. As she processed his request, she looked at him in wonder, her head slightly tilted, an uncertain half-smile adorning her lips. All eyes were on her as she considered his offer, yet for the first time in a rather long time, she was not uncomfortable with the attention. Though her noble status was not the secret she had once meant it to be, she had not cared to publicize the information. Now, standing in the midst of whispers with Eodwine silently and patiently waiting for a response, Saeryn was too preoccupied to care.

A Lady of the Hall? She had been content with the role of hostess, excited for once to have an opportunity to make a name for herself that was not based upon nobility or appearance, but ability and intellect instead. To be the Lady of the Hall... to be Eodwine's lady, at least in seeming?

Linduial had, upon first arrival, believed Eodwine and Saeryn to be wed. Saeryn had laughed and allowed the thought to relocate itself to memory to be reminisced upon, rather than something to be mulled upon. These days, Saeryn saw Eodwine in a more serious light than she had before Linduial had come, though she had ever been grateful to him. Her first true friend at the Horse, her sworn protector. Her confidante. Saeryn sought ways to pay Eodwine back for his kindnesses, finding solace for the chilling feeling of debts unpayable with long hours of work.

When Eodwine had approached her work ethic with confusion and an air of almost impatience for her reluctance to explain it, Saeryn had been left fully uncertain as to how now she could salve her own guilt-ridden consciousness. Friendship was not a loan, but a gift to be cherished. Oaths were not sworn to indebt those protected. Yet Saeryn felt unworthy and had tried, even as she celebrated Lèof's victory at the Fair, to think of a way to respond to Eodwine's generosity. Such thoughts had not left her even as the rescue of Linduial occurred. She had helped to tend Eodwine's home while he was away with as much care as she could give. She had tended to guests and children and household matters, always with the question of Eodwine's approval in her mind. Would he have done certain things such and such a way? What would he say upon his return? Could she feel, finally, as though she were a needed part of the world she lived in, rather than a silly young woman to be protected, humored, and, at best, talked to at late hours?

Now... now Eodwine had offered her a most wonderful way not only to belong, but to truly help him in a way that, perhaps, no other could.

She smiled now, looking down with a faint blush and curtsying low, glad to have chosen a gown for this day.

"My lord, I am honored accept your gracious offer."

[littlemanpoet]

Saeryn was taking a while to decide. It was only fair that Eodwine should give her the time she needed, seeing as he'd sprung this on her like a jester-in-the-box. It was no jest and she knew it. The crowd was whispering. Eodwine kept his eyes on Saeryn, not changing the hopeful but not too hopeful smile on his face.

She was taking a long time to decide, but her eyes did not leave his. She was thinking it through. Eodwine resisted the urge to shift his wait. Whispers skittered among the crowd like leaves on a swirling wind.

What if she said 'no'? He fought to maintain his hopeful expression. I would be crushed! He was stunned, but forced himself not to show it. Had she come to mean that much to him? How could it be, she less than half his age? 'Robbing the cradle', they would say, or worse. He had a following question in case she refused: Will you consent, then, to remain my guest and hostess, and ward under my sworn protection until fate takes you elsewhere?' He did not want her to leave, nor to feel as if she should.

Her face began to brighten. Eodwine's pulse raced. She began to smile. She opened her mouth and said 'yes', with a curtsy and words becoming of her station. Eodwine could not help the smile that broadened his face, but he kept himself otherwise in strict control; though he wanted to crush her to him. He bowed to her curtsy.

There were two bronze chains around his neck, one thick and one slim. The thick one had five keys on it, the slim had four. He doffed the slim chain and passed it over Saeryn's head, and draped it over her shoulders. She fingered the keys, which fell to her breastbone, and wore a contented smile.

"As Lady of the Eorling Mead Hall, Saeryn," Eodwine announced, "you have the keys to door, larder, safe, and cellar."

Eodwine turned then to Thornden and nodded in a prearranged sign. Thornden nodded back, then moved Eodwine's chair so that it took up the left half of the dais (as the audience viewed it). Thornden placed a second fur-lined chair next to it.

"As Lady of this Hall, Saeryn, you have authority over all matters of hearth and home, and you have my ear for counsel in all matters concerning my court."

"Is this a betrothal then!? (Ouch! don't hit me!)" shouted somebody from the crowd. The voice sounded familiar to Eodwine but he couldn't place it, nor could he see the speaker. He felt his face redden, and Saeryn's cheeks became pink also though she held her peace. No one else spoke, but every eye was on either Eodwine or Saeryn, waiting for his reply.

"If this were a betrothal, I would have said so," Eodwine said with a slight frown. "Call it an apprenticeship, for it fills a need of mine in this Hall, since I have no family - yet."

"Is it courting then!" asked the same speaker, who quickly followed with "stop hitting me, Harreld!" This time Eodwine saw the speaker. He should have known: it was Garreth the Smith. Eodwine allowed a half smile.

"Garreth, you ever were too loose with your tongue."

"And you, lord Eodwine, were ever saying half as much as you meant!"

Laughter. Eodwine joined in, and Saeryn smiled.

"So is this a-courting?" Garreth asked a second time.

Eodwine did not answer right away. He was generally a careful man, though bold when he chose to be. Something in him - maybe the prospect of Saeryn's youth so much a part of his life - broke back to ogre-may-care, and he decided to go with his gut.

"I will not say," Eodwine began slowly, "that it is not." The crowd erupted in a jumble of noiisy speculation. Eodwine looked to Saeryn, whose eyes had gone wide again. He half expected her to rip the chain of keys from her neck and angrily throw them at him. But she simply stared, open mouthed. He waited to see what she would do or say.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Degas had watched the events unfold before him in bafflement. He watched Saeryn's face, looking for the signs of the refusal that he almost hoped she would make. While he very much wanted his sister happy, and he could not deny that this arrangement was one very good for her, and he much liked Eodwine, he could not help but feel a burning sensation working its way from his stomach to his chest, trying to burst forth from him in a potentially violent way.

Is this a courtship? It had most certainly better not be. Forgetting immediately his guilt-stricken desire to avoid the presence of Eodwine, Degas worked his way to the front of the crowd, taking note of Linduial and Farahil, spotting the look of fascination upon Farahil's dark face and the look of excitement on Linduial's light one.

Saeryn deserved to be happy. She deserved a place befitting her station and her reputation must be preserved. Certainly this... this apprenticeship as Eodwine called it... would be an appropriate response to all concerns.

However a courtship... Saeryn was young, only just beginning to explore the world and all of its facets. A bird, only just discovering that her gilded cage had been left unlocked and she was free to fly through open skies. Degas thought of his sister's personality more and decided that she was more of a cat than a bird, but could not think of a better analogy. He left the thought behind and continued to fume as he stepped forward. Eodwine had lived long in the world already, had experienced far more than Saeryn. He was old enough to be their father! Saeryn deserved to be happy, but she deserved, in Degas's opinion, to be happy several years from now with a younger man.

He cast another glance toward Farahil before stepping clear of the crowd.

"Surely, Garreth," he spoke quietly, almost coldly, looking at Saeryn before locking eyes with Eodwine, standing to his full height - equal to Eodwine's, "this is no courtship. For if it were, I am sure an honorable man such as the lord of this Hall would have asked leave of the lady's brother."

[Formendacil]

Náin had a good vantage point, he thought, of the proceedings. He was near the front, where he shorter stature would allow him to see, nestled amongst a group of the Hall's retainers with whom he was somewhat familiar. He was thus able to hear clearly Degas' words

"Surely, Garreth, this is no courtship. For if it were, I am sure an honorable man such as the lord of this Hall would have asked leave of the lady's brother."

There was a provocative declaration if Náin had ever heard one. The noise in the hall rose immediately.

"And why is that?" Náin asked Garstan, who was one of those standing near. He did not bother to lower his voice. If anything, he raised it so that it might be heard among the crowd- and more than a few heads turned his way.

"It is the proper way," said Garstan, more quietly. "When wishing to court a lady, one ought to request the permission of her father."

"Degas is not Saeryn's father," pointed out Náin. "And is not Saeryn old enough to choose these things for herself? Among us Dwarves, we let our womenfolk decide- not their fathers, who are our brothers and comrades in arms."

"We are not among Dwarves," said Degas, loudly. "And as Garstan said, such is not the way among the Eorlingas. I am sure that Eodwine would do the honourable thing in this, as in every matter."

"So is your father, and Saeryn's, dead then?" asked Náin loudly, though someone behind him was trying to whisper that he should hush. "Or have you no other, elder brothers."

[littlemanpoet]

"I require order in my court," Eodwine declared through the growing roil of voices; he had not taken his eyes from Degas'. The young man did have a point, and almost - almost - Eodwine regretted his words, and thanked whatever beings watched over such things that for all the vim he had felt, he had chosen his words carefully. The Hall had quieted.

"I have said that the arrangement I have made with the Lady Saeryn before you all is an apprenticeship of a sort. This is so, regardless of what some may choose to think. I was asked if I am courting the Lady Saeryn. I answered that I will not say that I am not. Nor," Eodwine continued in a stronger voice, "will I say that I am; I leave the question open because, as Degas of the Folde said, it is not a matter solely of my choosing. If acourting comes of this, I would have his blessing, as well as any others of his family. And most certainly I will pursue no such endeavor unless the Lady Saeryn herself permits it, and that only after other critical matters have been dealt with, of which I will not speak now, for they are not for all ears.

"Degas, I ask you to heed my words and hold any further words for a later time when you and I can talk at length. What say you?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Degas reflected over Eodwine's request before answering.

He had travelled far upon Eodwine's orders to inform the lady Linduial's family that she was missing. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, as old Bilbo and Mithrandir had once said, or so the legends went. Flying from those who blamed him for her disappearance to those who would learn, from him, that it was his fault their youngest and beloved was kidnapped.

While Degas knew it was only fair for him to bear his own ill news, his thoughts and judgement were both clouded. Had Eodwine's decision been clouded with a desire to leave Saeryn unattended? Could a man with romantic interest treat a woman under his protection with an impartial eye? Degas pushed the thoughts from his mind to deal with the situation at hand. Surely Eodwine was far too honorable... and he had ridden to rescue Linduial... he had not even been at the Hall. Yet what had transpired between the pair while Degas's mind was caught up in his own romantic difficulties?

He looked to Linduial for a moment and glanced back to Eodwine when Farahil's eyes met his.

"I say that you speak wisely, Lord Eodwine. Not all matters of a Lord and Lady are meant to be judged within their court. My thoughts will remain my own for the remainder of these proceedings excepting the birth of a situation in which their publication becomes required. We shall have further words, I am sure, when the walls have fewer ears."

[Firefoot]

As Léof made his way to the hall, he realized something that made all thoughts of Æðel and his horse fly out of his mind: he should have told Eodwine something about his situation, or at least something about his sister. He intended to bring her here eventually, after all, and Léof began to feel that he had never been completely honest with Eodwine. Eodwine had never asked, and so Léof had never lied, but it still didn’t feel quite right. The story would have to come out eventually; why had he never thought to explain?

The answer came to him immediately: the opportunity had never really come. That first week he had been so concerned with adjusting himself and proving himself that the thought of actually talking to Eodwine had never really crossed his mind, and after that, half the hall had been gone in the search for Linduial. And now there was no time. Léof quailed at the thought of everyone hearing his tale; he wanted this to be between himself and those few he chose to tell or who ought to know. And Gárwine – how would it be for him to hear it like that that Léof had not only not told him the truth, but lied to him – or at least led him to believe something other than the truth?

You messed it up pretty well this time, he told himself as he took his place. And now he had no idea what he ought to do, or what he would do.

[Alcarillo]

The past three weeks, Gárwine had remained at the mead hall while the others had left to rescue Linduial. He was disappointed not to join them on their adventure, but Lord Eodwine's decision was sound: the mead hall needed a good guard to stand at watch while the lord was away. But still, Garwine couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and jealousy when Linduial's rescuers had triumphantly returned to the mead hall. But staying at the mead hall did let Gárwine watch Náin begin his work on Falco's statue. And Lys was recovering from his injuries. Manawyth had gotten himself into some sort of trouble with the law, as Gárwine had expected would eventually happen.

Gárwine woke up that morning with Eodwine's court on his mind. Today was the first day Lord Eodwine would hold his court, and people from all across the Middle Emnet would soon be arriving with their complaints and requests. Gárwine was most eager to see Manawyth's trial. The Dunlending had stolen a horse during the fair and had been caught by a Rider of the Mark. It's about time he was caught for something, Gárwine thought as he climbed out of bed, I knew Lord Eodwine had made a mistake letting him dwell here ever since I first laid eyes on the waelsman. Gárwine now started dressing in his finest clothes. The Dunlending will finally get what he's been asking for today.

Gárwine reached under his bed to retrieve his chain-mail and helm. It was of poor quality, but Gárwine threw a green cloak around his shoulders to hide his armor's imperfections. He buckled his sword belt and reached for his shield leaning against the wall. Gárwine examined it in his hands and frowned. The green paint on his shield was chipped and flaking. He would just have to deal with it. There was no time for him to go find green paint, wherever it might've been hidden in the mead hall.

He sighed and left his room, pulling his cloak around his arm to hide a particularly bare patch on the shield. It was no use, so he just let the cloak drop. What am I, one of the Queen's Men?

He entered the Great Hall and took his place. He stood where he wouldn't gain too many looks, but just enough to remind people that this Eorl had manpower should anything get out of hand. Gárwine could see through the open doors that people already had gathered in the courtyard, eager to get to the Eorl first. He craned his neck to see if Manawyth was in the crowd. What a sight it would be to see Manawyth bound and begging for mercy before Lord Eodwine's throne!

[Formendacil]

Náin had taken his breakfast in the partially finished new kitchen, as had quite a few members of the Mead Hall's household, for the Great Hall was abustle even at that early hour with preparations for the Court.

The Dwarven sculptor was still rather uncomfortable talking one on one with most human women, especially those he didn't know, but three weeks of living in Edoras had made being around humans, of both genders, fairly normal seeming. He rather missed Erebor, where he had been accounted one of the taller ones of his people, but even among the tall Rohirrim he wasn't a Dwarf easily pushed around.

So he ate his impressively large (though not QUITE so large as the Hobbit, Falco's) breakfast in silence, sitting in a corner of the kitchen and Kara and Frodides saw to the feeding of the household, and people came and went fetching and eating food. Following a leisurely after-breakfast drink, Náin departed for the Great Hall with just enough time to beat the start of the proceedings.

He quickly found himself a good spot to watch with several of the Hall's retainers- people he knew, at least somewhat. Náin was not the sort to go stand with strangers when friends were about.

"Excuse me," he pushed his way to the front, "too short to see over your overgrown heads." A smile or two from the Men, and he was there.

Lighting his pipe, Náin made himself comfortable. He was here for the spectacle, there was no doubt about that. Present as a matter of courtesy between the Kings of Rohan and Erebor, he had no position to maintain or acquire.

Falco's statue, he thought to himself, was definitely not going to be finished today.

[littlemanpoet]

All of Eodwine's household had gathered and found their places. He looked from one to the other, greeting each with a kind look, but a searching one as well. What were they thinking?

Garstan and his children smiled back openly. Garstan was now a friend as well as retainer, after the affair with Linduial. Eodwine had sworn to protect Garstan with his life, but it had been Garstan who had thrown himself in the way of an errant, or perhaps not so errant, dagger, and had taken the wound meant for Eodwine's heart, in his own arm. A good man, Garstan.

There was Léof. Eodwine smiled and greeted him silently. The boy gave him back a fitful smile that fled as quickly as it had come, as if he was fearful. Eodwine hoped that he did not fear for his role as ostler.

Saeryn smiled at him when their eyes met. He smiled quickly back. She was lovely as ever, calm and cool now, seeming happy with the return of her brother. He wondered how she would react to the words he planned for her this day.

Garwine looked stolid as ever, and greeted Eodwine with a respectful nod of his head. Garwine's eyes kept slipping outside to the courtyard. Eodwine followed his glance, and saw the two Meduseld guards between whom was held Manawyth, who had been recaptured after his foolish attempt to escape prison. He had been alone in a dungeon deep beneath Meduseld for two weeks now. Eodwine didn't want dungeons beneath his mead hall. But that was beside the point. He had never had a chance to properly question Manawyth, and wished that he had. He hoped things would not go ill.

Thornden, by his side, seemed a little nervous. Linduial, Farahil, and Marenil had come as well, to see no doubt how such things were done in Rohan. There was Æðelhild, hard to read these days. Eodwine missed that horse dealer and his son and nephew, and wondered what had become of them. Falco Boffin and Naín had managed to sit next to each other, and had seemed to fall into a rather buoyant friendship while Eodwine had been away. Just as well, and no doubt it had just as much to do with the ale cup and pipe as with that statue.

Eodwine nodded to Thornden, who nodded in turn to Garwine, who opened the doors. The crowd that had been waiting in the courtyard, came into the mead hall, filling the place quickly; Eodwine feared that maybe he had designed it big enough after all! The crowd was not silent. Folk talked with each other, gawking at the mead hall's interior, pointing and commenting about this and that. One thing that seemed to draw much attention was the old sign of the White Horse Inn that he had had mounted just below the rafters of the mead hall, off toward the eastern wall. He had wanted that kept, in order for one to honor Bethberry, for another because it was after all a white horse, and the symbol of Rohan was no bad thing. I really must give thought to an insignia for myself, Eodwine thought. He rose. The crowd quieted.

"Good morning to you all! Welcome to the Eorling Mead Hall. I am Eorl Eodwine of the Middle Emnet, and you have come to my first court-holding. I thank you for coming. What first just be done is that those who have sought places in my household will be told their fate after a month's trial.

"The first such one is Garwine."

Eodwine sat down.

"Garwine, come forward," said Thornden.

Garwine walked into the clearing before Eodwine's raised seat and nodded to his lord.

"Garwine, what think you of service to me? How have you fared?"

[Nogrod]

The crowds were milling about the Mead Hall. The proceedings had clearly started already as the main entrance was packed with people, all trying to get their peak inside. Stigend was wondering whether even Meduseld could have housed such a host of friends, relatives and wellwishers to anyone addressing their case in front of the Eorl – not to talk of all the traders and dealers who always appeared when a large enough gathering took place somewhere.

“Hey, you there! Move along, move along! We don’t have the whole day!”. A man called them from behind. Stigend turned to meet the caller. There was a a big wagon, pulled by two horses behind them, trying to make way towards the Mead Hall. Stigend greeted the driver by waving his hand and turned back to Modtryth.

“Ok, we are blocking the road and need to move. We’ll turn ourselves over there.”, Stigend said to her, pointing to their left. There were some small shrubberies on a grassy area that was not so crowded as the immediate surroundings of the main entrance.

“And you lad, you’ll stay right there where you are!”, he turned to Cnebba, pushing him gently but firmly back to the cart from where he was already on his way out of. “No tricks this time”, he added, smiling lightly to the boy. “But why can’t I go and play with the others?”, Cnebba protested. In return Stigend only patted his head, “You just wait...”, he said and took the reins. The man behind them with the wagon looked impatient enough and Stigend wanted no trouble now with anyone.

“Mummy, you let me go? Pleea-se, Mummy? I won’t go far.” Cnebba pleaded her mother in turn as his father seemed busy steering the horse amidst groups of people who had settled on the lawn, waiting for their familymembers or friends cases to be brought up in the court. “You heard your father dear”, Modryth answered him patiently. “And if your father gets work from here, you may play here everyday! Just wait now”, she said to her son, smiling openly and quickly glancing at her husband. Stigend had heard what she had said, but didn’t show any reaction to it.

“But that’s different, Mummy! It’s those other days then, they are not today!”, Cnebba tried to argue, but to no avail. “This is unfair”, he muttered.

Stigend reached a spot he thought good enough for waiting the whole long day for the proceedings to be over and halted the horse. Then he turned towards the sulking boy and raised him from the cart. Holding Cnebba high in the air he told him: “That the rich man has everything and the poor has nothing. That’s unfair. That a good man may die young and a bad man may live a long life. That’s unfair. There is nothing unfair in you not being allowed to get in trouble here with all these people.” With that he released his grip on Cnebba and let him fall, catching him just before his feet touched the ground. Even though Cnebba was already eight, this was still one of his favourites. “One more Daddy!”, Cnebba begged still laughing. And the laughter went up as he was hurled into the air again.

After two more throws and more laughter Stigend let Cnebba down and crouched to meet his eyes. “Do you see that big elm there?”, he said, pointing to a large elm some thirty yards away from them. “If you promise, you won’t go anywhere else, you may go and play in it”. Cnebba’s eyes shined from eagerness and Stigend really had to hold him firmly from the shoulders to make him listen the last thing he wanted to say: “And remember, if there is someone who teases you, you just come back. No scuffles, remember!”. As he loosend his hold Cnebba was already running towards the elm. “You promise!”, Stigend shouted after him. “Ye-ye!”, he answered, not even turning his head back as he ran.

“Now, whose the one again spoiling our son?”, Modryth asked prankingly. Stigend rolled his head and smiled back: “Well, less questions for a while. And this will be a long day anyhow.”

[Alcarillo]

Gárwine felt drops of sweat burst upon the back of his neck when he heard Eodwine call his name. He walked into the clearing in front of the Eorl's throne. Despite the heat inside, he unconsciously pulled his green cloak more snugly around him. He glanced at all the people surrounding him once, and then bowed his head to Lord Eodwine.

"Garwine, what think you of service to me?" said Eodwine from his kingly chair, "How have you fared?"

"I have fared well, my lord," Gárwine began, choosing his words carefully. He was off to a safe start. "I have a new home here at your mead hall. I thank you for the hospitality you have shown me and the others who have came here." He bowed gingerly.

"As to being a man-at-arms, I feel that I have fulfilled the post suffieciently. I have carefully watched the comings and goings of travelers, and made sure that no harm comes to this hall. And while you were absent from the hall, searching for the kidnapped Lady Linduial, I kept an especially watchful eye over this hall's visitors. There is nothing more important to me, my lord, than the safety of your hall during your absences."

He glanced up at Lord Eodwine for a moment, but couldn't make out what expression he wore in that brief instant. Gárwine turned his eyes back towards the floor.

"Every day during those three weeks I walked the hallways with my sword and spear," he continued. "Though there were few threats, I still guarded the hall diligently." Gárwine glanced again at Lord Eodwine. "Pray judge me fairly, lord," he muttered, awaiting what he would have to say.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine remembered when he had been in such a position as Gárwine was in, before him, now. He sympathized.

"Pray judge me fairly, lord."

Eodwine did not leave the poor fellow in suspense longer than a moment.

"Gárwine, you have been a good man at arms for my mead hall. I have no complaints. Far from it! You have served me well and diligently. So Marenil has told me. He is most grateful for your aid while I was away. If you will stay with me, I will call you my man for a year and a day, as custom dictates. As that custom further dictates, after that year and a day have come and gone, you and I will sit together and decide once and for all if you will be my man for life. Until then, you shall be my man at arms, and shall rank just below Thornden as more men at arms come to the Eorling Mead Hall. Will you be my man for a year and a day?"

Gárwine's eyes shone with his pleasure at the good review. "I will, lord! I am honored!"

Eodwine smiled. "The day I have devised an ensign for my standing as Eorl, you shall wear it. Stand down of your good will, Gárwine, and be pleased to return to your post."

"With pleasure, lord!" Gárwine bowed and sauntered spiritedly to his position at the Eorling Mead Hall door.

"Next," said Eodwine, I call Kara!"

[Kath]

Kara stepped forward, nervous but hopeful. Gárwine had received kind and encouraging words, she only hoped she had done well enough to be deserving of the same.

Eodwine repeated his question, asking her how she thought she had fared. Taking a moment to collect herself, Kara answered truthfully.

"At first my Lord I did not fare so well. The accident that caused Frodides' injury meant that I had no kitchen and no teacher. However, the kindness that was shown by you Lord in allowing Frodides to stay here even though she could not work, and by others in not minding when food was late or not as good as they are used to made me feel welcome, and I knew I was in a good place."

Kara paused to smile up at Eodwine, wanting him to know that she believed what she was saying.

"My cooking is much improved now, even Frodides said no one would know the difference if she were to leave tomorrow, and that is great praise! With a kitchen to work in again I can only hope it will improve further."

She stopped, unsure if she should say anything more. Over the last month she had noted that Eodwine was a man who preferred plain speech that came to the point when it was about something important, and Kara at least felt that this was important. Deciding against it she turned her eyes downward, awaiting his answer.