Eorling Mead Hall

[Folwren]

“Javan!” Lèof called out as he and Lys approached. “Did that man give you his name? Lys wants to know.”

Javan tugged the knot tight and patted the horse’s neck. His fingers absently brushed at the brown hair, caked as it was with the dirt that had mixed the sweat and caked stiffly around the hairs. “No. He didn’t give me his name. All he said was, ‘Thank you, my lad,’” Javan dropped his voice to imitate the General’s. “And then he went in. Sorry, can’t help you with knowing who he is, Lys.” He smiled and reached for one of the stiff brushes that Lèof had just brought in. “He’s caked with old sweat and dust, Lèof,” Javan said, taking the brush to the travel worn horse.

“Guess who else we saw this morning,” Javan said with some importance to Lys. “It was before anyone else was up."

[Taralphiel]

"No. He didn't give me his name. All he said was, 'Thank you, my lad,'"

Lys grinned at Javan's impersonation, it was very good. His curiousity would have to wait. It was not so bad, Lay had always liked being in the stables. He had not the strength to keep up with the rigours of the work, but he considered Javan and Lèof the closest thing he had to real friends.

Lys idly scuffed the toe of his new boot around the hay a little. He looked up at the horse, and the careful attention Javan was giving him. Javan's comments were certainly correct. The horse looked as if journeys had been long and trying on him. But he also looked like he bore it with experience. Lys smiled and approached the beast shyly. Javan looked up and smiled.

"Guess who else we saw this morning. It was before anyone else was up."

Lys looked back up with a blink. He wondered at the people he had not seen this morning, and where they might go. A small list of faces built up in Lys' mind. But he could certainly put most down to being at work earlier, or out of bed later. Hardly one's off starting an adventure, as Lys immediately assumed must be what Javan had seen.

"Who was it Javan?" Lys asked excitedly.

[Folwren]

The dried dirt on the horse’s shoulder fell away from under Javan’s brush. It sprinkled down onto the floor in great sheets of brown dust. As he continued to brush, the coat shone back at him with a black, healthy sheen. He pushed the long, thick mane over the neck so he could brush beneath it.

“Who was it, Javan?” Lys asked at his side.

“Lord Eodwine, that’s who it was,” Javan said. “And also Falco and, oh, what’re their names? Lefun and Ritun, too! D’you want a brush to help groom him? Here, you can use this, I’ll get another.” He handed Lys his brush and moved back, allowing Lys to take his place. As he turned towards the bucket of brushes, he saw Lèof taking out the hoof pick.

“May I clean his feet?” Javan asked, his eyes lighting up. “Please, Lèof!”

Lèof shrugged and handed the pick to him. Javan took it with excitement. He had cleaned out a horse’s hooves once before, under the strict supervision of one of his older sisters. That had been some time ago, and though he remembered how to pick up the hoof, how to hold the pick, and which way to clean it out, he did not remember how important it was to approach a new horse carefully.

Lys stood at the animals shoulder, blocking his front hoof. Javan, not wanting to disturb Lys and ask him to move, went at once to the hind foot. His arm reaching out, twined about the leg, and without giving the horse a moment of warning, jerked his foot up.

The black horse snorted with disdain at such treatment. He hopped awkwardly on his second hind foot, and with practiced skill, he jerked up the hoof that Javan held, and then shot it out towards the boy. The horse’s leg shoved Javan away from him, harmlessly, and sent him tumbling down onto the dirt of the floor six feet away.

[Taralphiel]

Lys dropped his brush and ran to where Javan had taken his tumble. Despite his ankle, Lys offered Javan a hand to his feet. He smiled when Javan took it, and he helped him up.

"Are you hurt?" Lys asked quickly. Javan seemed unharmed save losing some pride to the quick-hoofed horse. Lys took up his brush again and brough it back to the horses coat. He turned his face away when Léof asked Javan if he'd ever cleaned a horse's hoof before. He kept his quiet a while, until the silence made him uncomfortable.

"Lefun and Ritun...they seem very mysterious to me.". Lys smoothed a hand across the beasts strong back and grinned at his second showing of his curiousity in one morning. "Have you spoken to them, Javan? I wish to, but I never seem to get the chance. I must be to slow!" Lys chuckled, and moved his brush methodically to the places that seemed to need it most.

"I also wonder about the man that Thornden says is being kept here. They say he stole a horse. His name is Manawyth. He is very skilled with music...I wonder how he came to be here..." Lys stopped his wondering when he saw Javan looking at him with a smile. Lys blushed.

"I have been held up in a cold room so long. I want to talk to people! Though, I am grateful for the room, as cold as it sometimes is. I wish I could repay Lord Eodwine for his kindness sooner. But I'll find a way soon. Thornden has promised me so."

[Firefoot]

It happened so fast that Léof almost missed it. Javan had jerked up the horse’s foot and within seconds he was on the ground. While Lys hurried to help Javan up, Léof went straight to the horse’s head to calm him. “Whoa, there, boy, easy now,” he murmured, catching the bridle in one hand and rubbing the horse’s cheek and neck with the other.

By the time the horse was calmed, Lys had returned to the stream of conversation and Javan was back up on his feet, eyeing the horse’s foot and looking ready for another go. “Hold on, Javan,” said Léof. “I need you to tell me honestly: have you ever cleaned out a horse’s feet before?”

“I know how; I’ve done it before!” said Javan, sounding both defensive and abashed. Under Léof’s steady gaze, however, he added, “Well, once.”

Léof sighed internally. “Fine,” he said. “You just have to be careful, alright? Horses are big animals, and you could easily have been hurt just now.” He hated to sound like he was lecturing, even if he was, a little bit. “Now let’s try this again. Walk up to the horse, put your hand on him, let him know you’re there. Then run your hand down to his foot and gently lift it up. Most horses will know what you want by then and let you pick up their feet. The key is not to surprise them.” He watched as Javan carried out the instructions and nodded at him. “Good.” Still keeping an eye on Javan, he walked around the horse to where he had dropped his own brush and began brushing where he could continue to watch Javan. He didn’t want Javan to feel like he didn’t trust him, but it was little mistakes like that which led to problems… he wiggled his toes in his boot – he knew.

A silence had settled over the stable since Léof’s ‘lesson.’ Léof spoke up, trying to ease the mood again. “Sorry, Lys. I hope I didn’t interrupt you.”

[Folwren]

Javan’s pride smarted painfully under Lèof’s words. The fact that Javan knew that Lèof was entirely right made it worse. The tumble had not hurt very badly. He thought he might be slightly bruised where the horse’s hoof hit him, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about it - it would only give Lèof more reason to scold. The accident embarrassed Javan to no end and he thought he’d never be able to lift his head again before Lèof and Lys.

He obeyed Lèof’s instructions mutely while the ostler told him step by step about how to lift a horse’s hoof. His face was bright red as he bent over his work. The other two said nothing and the silence among them was unnatural.

“Sorry, Lys. I hope I didn’t interrupt you,” Lèof said finally.

Javan dropped the hind foot and looked towards Lys. He hadn’t really been listening to what Lys had been saying. His mind had been stuck on his embarrassed pride. He remembered vaguely the flow of his words, and then his curiosity was peaked at once.

“Say, you and Thornden seem to mention each other a lot. I heard that he found you and brought you in, but what else ‘ave you done to get to know each other?”

[Mithalwen]

Elfthain Theodmundsson had wandered to the Mead Hall on the pretext of discovering if the rumours of General Hama's return were true. While as he was as curious as any twelve year old boy in the adventures of a hero, any excuse to escape his uncle's house unsupervised for a while would have been welcome.

It was not that he disliked his relatives. He was really very fond of his cousins and his uncle had made great efforts to fill the void left by his father's death, but at the moment no one had any time for him. He did not really expect them to with a new baby expected any moment - but he still didn't see why his mother could not have left him at home, at Upbourn while she came to Edoras to tend to his aunt. He missed the farm, and the horses, and the space. They had been in town only a day or so but already Elfthain felt stifled. So when the cook had told him the news it was an opportunity too good to be missed.

Elfthain was quite tall for his age and as the only son of a prosperous widow his clothes were of good quality and fitted him well - not for him the indignity of hand-me-downs or cast-offs. Since he had left the house without maternal supervision they were worn untidily and his his dark gold hair was as tousled as when it had parted from his pillow.

He had reached the stable yard in time to see Javan's mishap and if anyone had been looking at him they would have seen a mixture of amazement and amusement in his bright, blue eyes. How could anyone in the Mark get to about his own age and not be able pick up a horse's foot? he wondered, forgetting that not everyone had grown up on a farm and had learnt to ride as they learnt to walk. But before any thoughtlessly scornful comment could pass his lips he realised how much he would like the company of boys of about his own age and so it was a diffident lad that ventured across the yard. Anxious for acceptance, his words fell out in a tumble,

"Hello, I 'm Elfthain. Is it true that General Hama has come back alive? And would you like any help?"