Eorling Mead Hall

[Folwren]

Thornden wandered quietly through the great hall after having breakfast. His eyes traced the wall and roof, the great fireplace in the center, and the new doorway in the wall leading into the corridor coming from the kitchen. Having made a complete round of the room, he went towards the place of construction.

Stigend and Garstan were beginning their day’s work and for a while, Thornden watched them in silence. Their work fascinated him in almost every stage. He knew next to nothing of the art of building or anything like and found it very interesting.

He had stood there nearly five minutes without moving so much as an inch when he heard a soft step near him. He drew in his breath and his eyes left Stigend’s work with the wood to shift to the person near him. It was Garstan’s son, Garmund.

“Good morning, Garmund!” Thornden said, smiling and taking a step towards him. The boy glanced up briefly.

“Good morning, sir,” he answered without stopping or slowing his walk.

Thornden bent his head a little to look more squarely into Garmund’s face. An expression of carefully contained anger or vexation dwelt on his face. Thornden laid his hand on Garmund’s shoulder. “Wait, lad,” he said softly, kneeling with one knee on the ground to bring himself more to the boy’s level. “Is anything the matter?”