Eorling Mead Hall

[Taralphiel]

"I’m back!"

Lys was almost delighted to hear Lèof's voice. He knew very well Javan meant no harm in his questions. His condition could have been caused by a brave fall, or could even have a brave story of rescue by his Uncle to tell. But it was nothing so heroic on Lys' part, and nothing he liked to think about amongst kind company.

"Here, Lys, take one of these bowls before I drop it." Lys reached up and took the warm bowl, wincing just a little as the weight bore on his tender ribs. But neither of the boys saw him discomfort, and for that he was glad. Lys looked about as he slowly ate his meal, marvelling at how the Hall came alive for the midday meal. Lys picked out carefully all sort of interesting folk, and tried to match them to the stories that Thornden had told him. Lys then saw the figre of a tall man walk silently into the room. He at once knew this man was Manawyth. Trying to keep his gaze from looking too obvious, Lys looked and wondered why this man was so separated from all the rest gathering for his lunch. His appearance, true, was a bit different. But Lys could only look with childish wonder at the Dunlending. He seemed to be troubled, and Lys could not understand why.

Looking back at his meal, Lys began to think out loud about his friend.

"I wonder when Thornden will return? He did not say where he would be going today. I do not know how long you have been here, Javan. Perhaps you know?"