The White Horse Inn, Act III

[Alaksoron]

Korik reined in his gray stallion before the stately Inn. The sign above the door, swinging slightly in the breeze, read 'The White Horse'. A good name, he thought idly as he walked his horse toward the stables. A stableboy stepped forward to take the reins, but Korik waved him away. 'Storm would likely trample the scrawny creature' Korik thought wistfully.

Korik stalled the prancing stallion himself, after curtly informing a farrier and a stablegroom he would care for his own horse tonight. Strange, after riding hard nearly all day, Storm still seemed eager to run. Sometimes the gray's stamina really did astound him.

Gently Korik removed Storm's saddle, draping a fresh blanket over his back. Then he drew a smooth horse brush from his saddlebags and set to sheening Storm's glossy coat, paying careful attention to the contours of his body. A good horse, deep chested, with powerful hindlegs. Next Korik massaged around the stallion's forelocks and ankles like a true expert equestrian. Straightening, he stroked Storm's neck to calm him and fed him an apple, murmuring softly to him all the time.

Finally, Korik made his way to the inn, thinking how much he needed a washing himself. A good bath, an ale, and a warm bed. He opened the door.

The smell of food wafted from the kitchens and smacked him in the face, enticing his nose. His mouth very nearly watered. Perhaps he could add a meal to that short list. There was no manservant to take his cloak, so he just held on to it. Few gave the sword at his hip a second glance. He wore it well. It looked as if it belonged there.

He made his way to the apparent innkeeper, very obviously in charge. A very capable woman, it seemed. He introduced himself and emptied a small leather purse into her hand. Two dozen gold coins spilled into her palm, each as thick as your palm. Then he gave her her instructions. Warm water in a copper tub for a bath, with plenty of privacy. A room reserved for the night. A glass of ale and some roast chicken when he came down from his bath. With that, he took his bag to his room and went to bathe.

[Alaksoron]

Korik felt considerably refreshed after his bath. He drug a comb through his shoulder length hair and donned a black silk coat, buttoned to the throat and neatly pressed. Buckling his swordbelt over his coat, he went downstairs.

He had a seat at a corner table. Once he sat down, his dinner was promptly brought him. 'Still warm', he exulted wryly. He finished quickly, but he refrained from getting seconds. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he ordered another ale. That he drained at one gulp.

He strode to the innkeeper and smiled "Would you kindly allow me too play my flute in your Common Room?"

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aylwen smiled warmly to the newcomer, and the prospect of new entertainment pleased her. "You are quite welcome to play whatever you wish in this inn, sir. It would be refreshing to hear new music and the sounds of a flute." Aylwen replied, gesturing with a sweep of her right arm to the entire Common Room. Politely excusing herself with a silent nod she proceeded to remove his cleaned plate and his two emptied mugs.

Morning had long gone, and noon quickly passed into late afternoon. The shadows changed directions, lengthened, and stretched to fit the needs of the bright sunlight. Aylwen set the dirty dishes down in the kitchen, looking out on the horizon in the window for a moment before turning away and returning to the Common Room.

-

Waiting did not come easy for It. On several occasions It had to keep Its companions from moving in haste or becoming impatient. They would eat, and it would be very soon.

Shaggy hair covered a strong, muscular body. A nose perfect for smelling prey was set about constantly barred teeth. Eyes meant for seeing in the darkness of night twinkled in the swiftly fading light. When they could sense the coming of night, It took the first daring step over a rushing creek, and the first step towards the quaint Inn that housed so many patrons and innocents.

Darkness would fall, and then they would have their meal.

[littlemanpoet]

After Eodwine had made the acquaintances of elf, old man and young man, he excused himself for food and drink. How had the day already worn to noontime? Apparently, his report at Meduseld had taken longer than he had thought!

He was served porridge and good East Emnet Ale, and made quick work of both. Ready to ask for seconds, he noticed a young man come in from an inside door, from the guest rooms, which Eodwine knew from memory. The man sat down at a corner table and enjoyed his meal in silence. Eodwine let the man finish and was about to go and offer greeting when he he overheard the man's conversation with Aylwen.

The man's name was Korik and he could play the flute! The flute was a Gondorian musical instrument known mostly among the nobility, a rather fancy piece of equipment held to the side. Eodwine was more familiar with the wood pipe and other such countrified instruments, played out in front. He walked over to the man named Korik.

"I greet you, Korik. I am Master Eodwine of the Gap." Eodwine offered his hand.

Korik stood and amiably returned his hand and greeting.

"Pardon me for eavesdropping, but I overheard that you play the flute. I play the lyre. Perhaps we could match tune to tune at whiles this day."

[Alaksoron]

Korik smiled at Eodwine. "My wife also plays the lyre. The lyre and flute sound truly lovely in harmony." Still talking, he made his way to the front of the common room. Eodwine exscused himself to retrieve his lyre.

When he returned, Korik raised the flute to his lips and told Eodwine to just follow along. He embarked on a merry tune, and some of the men began to sing along. People from different nations sang it different ways, but the tune remained the same.

[littlemanpoet]

The music was good. Korik was a skilled player! Between the neverending supply of good ale (Eodwine was careful not to over do it - he could not have numb fingers!) and the music, he was having as good a day as any he could remember; save before the War when his family still lived. Rather than banishing the thought, he allowed it to remain with him, their memory adding a bittersweetness to the playing.

When they took a break, Eodwine said, "Korik you are as fine a flute player as ever I have heard! Where do you hail from? What news comes with you?"

[Alaksoron]

When they took a break, Eodwine said, "Korik you are as fine a flute player as ever I have heard! Where do you hail from? What news comes with you?"

"Oh, you might say I hail from many places. I am a nomad, traveling with the wind, never able to satisfy my wanderlust for strange places and people. I carry little news that you have probably not already heard. As for the flute, my uncle taught me to play. It is a fine instrument, when properly handled. And where did you learn to play the harp? Where are you from?"

[littlemanpoet]

"The harp has been in my family, passed from father to son for years beyond reckoning, so my father told me. He taught me as a child, and I took to it. I am from the Gap of Rohan, though I have not lived there since the War. These last few yearas I have been in the service of King Eomer, as messenger. Just yesterday I completed a circuit of the White Mountains. It took months!"

"What messages sent you so far? Or is that king's secret?"

"King's secret, yes, then Steward's, and Prince's. But the final message that sent me for afield, to Anfalas and Pinnath Gelin, was no secret. A landholder was summoned to Dol Amroth. Once I was that far west, it seemed ill to me to wend through all of Gondor and Anorien in a vast return trip, so I passed through the wilds in the west until the Gap of Rohan came in sight. But I did not tarry there."

Korik noticed the shadow that came over the messenger's face at mention of the Gap; Eodwine had been bright and eager and friendly in the rest of his telling.

"Something keeps you from your former home," Korik said.

"Aye. I lost my wife, son, and daughter at the hands of the Dunlendings while I was at the battle before the gates of the Morannon."

"That is ill. I am sorry."

"As am I," Eodwine nodded, and sighed. "So now I go where the king needs me, wandering myself, but happily according to the wishes of another. It is what I need, or there is no telling where I might find myself!" Eodwine grinned. "So where has the wind blown you of late?"

[Alaksoron]

"Where has the wind blown you of late?"

"Back and forth across the earth, Eodwine. Nearly everyplace you can think of, and some you cannot. I have even been to the home shores of Harad, once, a long time ago.

"I am in Rohan because I have heard the Rohirrim have excellent horses. I am an avid equestrian myself, and am purchasing many of the finest horses I can find. I may build a ranch and breed them.

"And what are your aspirations, Eodwine? Are you married?"

[littlemanpoet]

"Nay, I have no wife. I had one, whose memory I cherish. I wish for no other. As to my dreams for the road that lies ahead, I have none like yours. I love the lore of the War. Wherever I go I seek out the stories of all who are willing to share them, and I turn them into song if I can, or at least tell them to the loremasters in Edoras and Minas Tirith. But enough! Shall we make more music? And drink more ale?"

"Aye, let us do that."

Eodwine smiled and played along with Korik's tunes, nodding his head every time the ale came around again. Korik's questions had been fair, but they had stirred memories of a hearth and home that were gone forever. Ygirda lay beneath the ground, Eadbold and Ylena to her side. He knew the ground where they lay as if it were part of his skin. On his way back from Pinnath Gelin he had stopped at their mounds and planted new Evermind there. This day the sorrow grew beyond what it had been in recent months, and Eodwine did not know why. He sought the balm of drink to take away the sting.

They played all afternoon and into supper time, and after food, Eodwine felt his head swoon. He was sick. His head clearer, the ache of loss returned, all the worse for having been blotted out for a while. He returned to the Great room and picked up his lyre again. It was then that he remembered why the pain was stronger. It was on this day that he had crested the final rolling hill and saw not his beloved homestead, but a ruin. Eodwine ordered another ale.

[Alaksoron]

Korik cased his flute. There would be no more music tonight. Some of the men groaned, those who were not too drunk, but Korik just ignored them. He could tell Eodwine was troubled. He also felt a prickling between his shoulders he had come to realize meant imminent danger, an uncanny sixth sense he had developed as a Ranger in the borderlands of western Gondor. He carried the flute case to his room and slipped it under his bed. Something told him to lock the door on his way back out. He did.

When Korik reappeared downstairs there was a wide quiver full of arrows on his back beside a yew short bow slung over his shoulder. The bowstring was taut and waxed. His swordbelt was still around his waist, the scabbarded long sword on his left hip.

With a stiff-collared white cloak draped over his forearm he walked over to Eodwine and clapped him on the back. "How about taking a look at my horse now?" Korik himself had drank sparingly; Eodwine..... "Are you alright?"

[littlemanpoet]

"How about taking a look at my horse now?" Korik asked, then looked at Eodwine more closely. "Are you all right?"

"I am well enough. I have been sad today and only lately recall that it is the anniversary of my family's murder. That is why I have been drowning in drink." He rose, tilting off balance a little. "But I will come with you to the stables to check on Flithaf. I am sure the ostler here has done a fine job, but I would bid my steed goodnight."

Eodwine set down his lyre beside his satchel and walked next to Korik, who reached out an arm now and then to steady him as they made their way into the night. Korik passed into the stable ahead of him, and only then did Eodwine notice the quiver of arrows on his shoulder, and the sword at his belt.

"You are armed. Do you expect trouble in the stables? Or later tonight? The King's men have Edoras well guarded, though a sly thief or murderer could get through, no doubt. But all has been at peace lately."

Korik put his finger to his lips. Eodwine realized that he had been talking far too much, and closed his mouth. His head felt thick as soaked leather.

[Bêthberry]

OOC

A hearty welcome to Rohan goes out to new gamers who have demonstrated they can play or run games responsibly and successfully in The Shire.

The Perky Ent now joins the list of Rohan Game Managers. Perky did an especially good job of rallying the troups and covering for absent gamers in The Last Ride of the Heir for the entire duration of his game. Keep up that level of enthusiasm, Perky!

Responsible interactive gaming and good writing was demonstated in that game by astarielle, Eowyn Skywalker, and Hama of the Riddermark, who now join Rohan as Game Players. Congratulations to the three of you.

And some late summer additions come from Resettling the Lost Kingdom: Carrun, Lady Aerowen, and Osse demonstrated they can handle writing in Rohan well. Welcome!

Just a reminder: There are several gamers in The Shire who write well, with interesting characters and original ideas, but who have not stayed with a game or who posted so sporadically their absence caused great difficulties for the other gamers. Gaming in Rohan is more interactive, improvisational, and independent and so all members of a game must be reliable and knowledgable in how to keep a game going.

[The Perky Ent]

OOC:

Thank you very much Bêthberry! I thank you for bestowing with the great priviliage of owning an RPG in Rohan. I promise not to abuse my power :D Now, I'm gonna start doing what I said I've always done! I'm gonna make an RPG and make Rohan less, if you'll pardon the saying, "dead"! Well, I'm off to write!


Perky

[The Perky Ent]

As Eric road up the hill, he finally saw at long last what he'd been wanting to see for the last ten years. The way the light cascaded on the fair city was poetry, and as luck would have it, Eric was, in fact, a poet. For the last ten years, Eric had wondered through the many mysteries that Minas Tirith hid, but in the end, he could not want anything more but to see him home. Taking a last look at the land behind him, Eric summoned his horse over the hill to Edoras. It was beautiful.

Getting off his horse right before the fair city, Eric took out a pad and a quill, and began to write.

The people fresh, the stone runs deep,
yet after ten years I can't help but weep
for there is a missing piece to it all
but it's not an item, a brick or ball
A freshness is missing from the colossus


Eric paused for a minute, trying to discover an ending. Then, after giving up, he took his quill back in his hand, and wrote

and without it, Rohan is dead

Eric sighed, but then grabbed the reigns of his horse, and marched into Edoras. Of the several fine Inns, there was only one that drawed so much customers. Eric quickly infered it was the best, and walked in. The White Horse, it was called. Stepping through the doors, Eric took a seet and waited for someone to serve him.

[The Perky Ent]

Well, I might as well find a room." Eric said, getting up and looking for a owner. Finding nobody, Eric began to wander around the establishment, which was rich in architecture. The detailing in the tables, walls, ceilings, and chairs was amazing. "Only in Rohan" muttered Eric, as he past by several merry customers of the Inn. After about five minutes of wandering, Eric came at last to someone that could help him. "A new face! And who might you be?" said the cherry woman. "Uh...Eric. Hey, do you happen to know who runs this place? I need a room and I need to find the," the woman laughed hartily, because saying, "The Innkeeper? Why, you want Aylwen! Aylwen Dreamsong! She's the one who runs the place. Got it from me, you know. Pleased to meet you, Eric! You can call me Bêthberry. I used to run the place. Are you new around here?" the woman called Bêthberry said, her smile shining like a star.

"No, I'm not. Well, I'm new here, but not to Edoras. I finally came home. It feels great! The air is so fresh!" Eric said, gazing at Bêthbery. Looking at her, he saw something. Something that reminded him of someone, a long time ago. "Well, welcome back! Aylwen! We have a new customer! His name is Eric, and he'd like a room!" A woman came from out of the crowd to meet him. "Hello there. You want a room? Sure, I can get you a room! Come with me" Aylwen said, drawing Eric to another part of the Inn. Eric still didn't remember what it was about Bêthberry, but he knew he wouldn't leave until he found out.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Aylwen began to lead the new patron through the halls of the White Horse, taking the man called Eric to the front of the Inn. Taking a sharp turn Aylwen lead him up the stairwell to the rooms on the upper levels. When they had gotten to the top of the stairs the Innkeeper turned down the hallway of the second floor, stopping in front of the third door on the right. She opened the door for Eric, gesturing with a gentle sweep of her arm for him to enter the room. He took a step into the room, and Aylwen winced when he just so happened to step on a squeaky floorboard.

"Is the room to your liking, Master Eric?" Aylwen asked, hoping that he might ignore the occasional squeal of a floorboard. He surveyed the room, his hand rubbing his chin for a moment before shaking his head in approval. Aylwen smiled when he nodded his acceptance. "Meals will always be available, and if you have any other needs or wishes, just call for me or ask one of the maids..."

The Innkeeper paused for a moment, thinking about this new arrival.

"Master Eric? Do you know how long you might be staying in Edoras?"

[The Perky Ent]

"Until the end of my days, God willing! After ten years of being homesick, I can't bear to do it to myself again! No, I'm here for good. Well, maybe not in this room for good. I'll find a home...eventualy, but for now" Eric said, sitting on his bed, and putting his things down on the floor, which gave a loud squeak. "Ah yes! Stay as long as you want! That room isn't reserved for anyone. No one, that is, but you. Well, if you don't mind, I'll be off!" And Aylwen walked down the stairs back into the fray. Changing his shirt, Eric gave a sigh, and lay on his bed.

After a breif nap, Eric woke up and picked up his quill. He always recorded his dreams. He never knew when he'd forget them, and each was intricate and detailed.

Fire, fire, everywhere.
Not a place to stand.
Stop, drop, and roll.
Nothing works.
Burn.

"Well that was a strange one" Eric said, staring at his dream again, and laughing for quite a while. After washing his face, Eric went down to the lower levels, and ordered some bread. He needed food, but even more, he needed a friend.

[astarielle]

Lianda wandered through the streets not caring where she was going for the weight of all the worries she had carried all her life had finally be lifted from her tired shoulders, for she was home. Familiar smells wafted along the dark streets reminding her of her childhood. She saw herself running through the alley ways chasing after her friends and hiding in doorways waiting to be found. How much had changed since those brief days. Since the fateful day when her parent's had died, things were never the same. Her life had become full of worry and hardship, gone were the days of freedom. But Lianda had survived, she was here after all, back in the Edoras where some brief but happy memories remained.

In the cool hours before dawn she had entered the city with the dew still on the grass. She waited by the gates for what seemed like hours mustering her thoughts and recollections priming herself to face her fears. But she need not have been worried, some how by returning to her home city, the grief that had followed her for all these years disappeared leaving Lianda with a sense of fufillment. Even after all the troubles and challenges she had faced since leaving, none was so great as returning here.

Retracing the steps she knew so very well, she found herself standing by the door of the White Horse Inn. She could hear muffled voices and laughter eminating from the inn. The sign was creaking in the wind and the warm light called her in.

She scanned the faces for anyone she may recognise, knowing full well that she wouldn't. Quietly she made her way to bar and sat down, overcome with a sense of happiness and joy.

[The Perky Ent]

After Eric's seventh serving of bread, he began to feel very bloated. Though he had travelled long distance, and exercised much, he was still very overweight. Eric's thought on the matter was "One more won't kill me, and if it does, I'm going to a place where it won't! What's the harm!" This attitude was often people's opinion of him, which gave him very weird nicknames. Some even went so far as to call him Eric of the Shire, due to his hobbitish behavior of eating. Some thought he had more than one stomach. Eric truly was an interesting person.

After taking a moment to digest the massive amount of carbohydrates going into his body, Eric became parched, and got up for the bar. "Alright!" Eric said, as he placed his hands on the table and put pressure on them. "Off the table, in three, two, one!" and using a false strength. Even if no one was looking, Eric often acted as if he was viewed by an audience at all times, his table routine being one of his most frequent acts. Walking over to the bar, he ordered a fine ale, and began to drink. Joining the bread, the ale gave Eric a soothing feeling, as it to became digested. Just then, Eric heard the door open. The woman went to the bar, ordered a drink, and sat down. Eric had the impression that she too was a person comming home.

"Excuse me miss" Eric said, looking at the woman. "Are you new here?" The woman seemed a little shocked at the question, but then answered "Yes, well, I'm comming back home" At once Eric showed off a great smile. "Me too! Just got here! Great place! It's good to be back. I was in Minas Tirith. Where have you been?"

[astarielle]

After entering the Inn Lianda mae her way to the bar and ordered and ale. To her surprise a man, whom she hadn't noticed before, came up beside her and ordered a drink.

"Excuse me miss" the man said, looking at the her. "Are you new here?" Lianda was a little shocked and was thrown from her thoughts back into present times.

"Yes, well, I'm comming back home" The man smiled at her, (which Lianda had to admit was rather appealing).

"Me too! Just got here! Great place! It's good to be back. I was in Minas Tirith. Where have you been?"

"Where haven't I been would be a more apt question i believe!" said Lianda after the preivous shock of being asked a question. "I've wandered far and wide but my heart remainded here, so here i return." Liana thought for a while before continuing; "To be exact i've been as far north as Bree and as far east as Osgiliath since i left this far city many mooons ago. Yet now i return, and i see nothing much has changed. The smells are the same...." she took a gulp of her ale, "....and the ale is the same if i do recall correctly." Lianda laughed and drank some more.

She ordered another two ales, one for herself and another for her acquaintance. "So what brings you here then?"

[The Perky Ent]

"You know, Gondor is a great place, but nothing is as good as Rohan. I come back because nothing beats home. I'm back, at last. Now, I'm at peace. No more worries." Eric said, closing his eyes. Picturing Minas Tirith, and then a boat, he saw himself sailing from the white city to Edoras. And then, after taking a breath, Eric passed out, his body motionless on the bar. "No! What's happening!" "What's going on?" "Who did this" everyone was screaming, but Eric couldn't hear any of it. He was at peace. Eric knew he wasn't dying, but he knew he'd never been alive again. But, if he was home, it didn't matter.

Later, everyone had found that Eric had had a tragic heart disease, which had been eating up his body. Although he was never technically pronounced dead, his body was set in a small bed on the outskirts of Edoras. After several days of bedrest, Eric died. It was very poignant to see someone like him die, but, life went on. Though he would be remember for quite some time, he would eventually be forgotten. He would pass away.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine came back from the stables, leaving Korik behind. He had given Flithaf a good rub down, and his head felt less addled with ale. Though not altogether. He felt quite satisfied with a good day of food and music and ale, but wanted one more before going down for the night. He stepped up to the bar and discovered two new patrons, a woman and a man, making light conversation.

He ordered one for himself, and while watching the other two, saw the man pass out. Eodwine almost fell over in sympathy, but regained his balance and knelt down beside the prone man.

"I was just talking to him!" cried the woman. "Is he dead?"

Eodwine put his ear to the man's chest, and could hear his labored breathing.

"No, he lives. But he needs a healer. Aylwen! Bêthberry! Man down!"

Aylwen came quickest, having just taken Eodwine's order for ale, and sent the cook's help off at a run to get help.

Before long, the healer came and had the man placed on his bed in the front room. Eodwine found himself dismissed. The woman followed him out of the room.

"I could use that ale!" Eodwine said.

"As could I!" the woman said.

"I didn't catch your name."

"I am Lianda."

"Well met, Lianda."

[astarielle]

Lianda felt a sense of calm, listening to Eric tell her about Gondor but that calmness sonn ended as he slumped onto the bar knocking over his pint glass. She was stunned and could not think what to do. Thankfully she didn't need to as someone came and knelt beside him. It took a while for any words to form in her mouth. "I was just talking to him! Is he dead?" she managed to blurt out after what seemed to be an age. The kneeling man checked he was breathing and, much to Lianda's relief ,announced that he lived. A herbalist came and went, and soon enough the Inn returned to its peaceful serenity from whence it was torn by a man and his ale.

After making sure Eric was in sfae hands Lianda followed Eodwine back to the bar where she ordered two more ales. Lianda introduced herself while taking a long gulp of the much needed ale.

"Nothing ever goes to plan does it?" she asked Eodwine who seemed perplexed by the question.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I came in here expected a nice relaxing and quiet drink only for it to turn into one of the most stressful situations I've experianced in a while," Lianda said " And as for Eric, i don't think he intended that to happen", she continued.

"I'm sure he didn't!" replied Eodwine with a hint of humour in his voice

Lianda smiled and drank some more.

[littlemanpoet]

Lianda was a little blurry to Eodwine's vision, but fair enough he was sure. He barely stopped himself from asking her right off if she was wed. Funny how loose one's tongue - and brain - could get with too much ale.

So she wished for more surety in life. She had a good enough sense of humor, at least. She had said wistfully that nothing ever goes to plan. She seemed to like her drink as well as he did, too.

Stop, my friend, before you get yourself in trouble.

It was a bad sign..... the part of him was talking to him that he usually did not need.

I'll be fine, he told himself.

Eodwine introduced himself to Lianna, then realized, as her grin spread, that he had already done so. He apologized heartily and said, "So, Lianna, what other plans of yours have gone awry?"

[Bêthberry]

A familiar brown and white falcon flies into the Tavern, with a scroll in his beak, which he drops near the Innkeeper's desk before flying out into the kitchen, where he sneaks a piece of raw meat left lying on the cutting board, and then flies swiftly out an open window before he can be caught.

The scroll is dutifully tacked up on the board for all to see:

All hail New Writers of the Mark!

Here ye all Rohirrim! You are bid welcome to Rohan as Game Players Arry, CaptainofDespair, and Firefoot who have successfully played to conclusion their first game in The Shire Well done!

And please congratulate Fordim Hedgethistle on his full status as Game Founder in Rohan. He is already itching to get a sequel to Land of Darkness going here in Rohan so watch for it.

The Perky Ent and Imladris are also preparing some entertainments for your gaming enjoyment. Coming some day soon to a thread near you.

Bêthberry,

[astarielle]

After being woken from a train of deep thought by a falcon flying in, Lianda realised she was meant to be answering a question. "Sorry, what did you say" she said hurridly and feeling rather embarassed.

Eodwine chuckled to himself, "I asked what other plans of yours have gone wrong"

"Ohhh, sorry, I went of into my own little world then. Well, when i was little i did intend to be a princess and live in a pink castle, but that obviouly hasn't worked out!"

They both laughed and after regaining her composure Lianda continued, "I planned to stay here forever, unless a chance to marry a prince came along of course, and live a trouble free life and marry a handsome man, nonef which has come to pass. Not saying they never will mind!"

She took a sip of her ale which mysteriously, in her opinion, had become less full than the last time she looked. She shrugged her shoulders and thought nothing of it, pints always have a habit of doing that when you least expect it.

[littlemanpoet]

"When I was a lad I dreamed of being a great warrior, a captain in the army of Prince Theodred." He shook his head. "I did not make captain, for which I am forever grateful to the rulers of fate, for then I would have been killed along with him early in the War." He shrugged and shook his head. "But enough somber talk! Do you like music? Or do you sing?"

"I would not boast of it, but I know a few tunes. Why? Do you play?"

"A harp! Which I handle almost as well as my ale!" Eodwine grinned and took a draught, half of which he spilled down his chin and neck, staining his shirt.

"Better, I hope!"

Eodwine wiped his mouth and chin on his sleeve, suddenly serious. "Forgive me, my head is addled. I am not given to such slovenliness. Would you hear my harp?"

[astarielle]

"I am of the opinion that this room needs a little livening up, wouldn't you agree?" Lianda asked cheerfully as the inn had become rather lifeless since the commotion with Eric.

"I'd have to agree with you on that one!" said Eodwine standing up and from, to Lianda, apparently nowhere revealing his harp. "Any requests, my lady?" He said coming over all gentlemanly, quite the contrary to what the ale was telling him to do, as ale has a habit of doing when you have drunk a fair amount.

Quite confidently Lianda replied "Surprise me, just as long as you make it a nice surprise, I don't care much for bad surprises but i do like surprises generally." Lianda was quite shocked she managed to string more than four words together, use more than monosyllabic words and not make it sound disjointed because of the ale, although she did admit there were a few too many 'surprises'. However, stopping herself thinking even more and therefore run the risk of confusing herself even more so, she took another swig of ale and left it at that.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine carefully set down his ale mug, and it still almost spilled, his hand was so clumsy, and he wondered how he could manage the harp's strings.

"I call this 'Heather'." His sang his simple song, his voice high and clear, and was surprised that his fingers seemed to know their way despite his muddled senses.

"Summer's heather warm and sweet,
Sun of Arda lights thee bright,
Lifted heads all do me greet,
Lilt thy voice in song so light.

"Fair in Autumn, heather small,
Faintly do I hear thee call;
Feel thee how thy blossoms fall?
Fail not during winter's pall.

"Lowly heather hid from sight,
Lay in shielding snowy white,
Safe from winter's shiv'ring bite,
Silent bide till warm spring bright.

"Field of heather growing green,
Filled with scent of rain in spring,
Washed with colors cool and clean,
Whispered words I hear thee sing.

"Sing! For winter fell has ended,
Call of heather comes once more!
Spring has come and wrong is mended!
Chilling death shall be no more!"

"That is my song, my surprise. I hope you liked it," said Eodwine, a tilted smile on his face.

[astarielle]

Currently at The White Horse Inn

It is late evening and a crowd has gathered. There is music and fellowship but melancoly as well as, fueled by sad memories of loss.

The old warrier Osric will seek a chair in the Great Hall, where the bards Eodwine and Korik compare notes on songs and tinker with their instruments. Maercwen helps her mother in the Kitchen while her younger siblings dance to the music with children's obliviousness to the memories of adults. A new comer, Lianda, joins the song while the nightwatchman Osric makes his rounds. Aylwen the Innkeeper is hidden away for the moment, doing an audit of the Inn's books for the day. They will soon be joined by the former Innkeeper, Bethberry

~~~~~
astarielle's post:

For a long time Lianda remained silent, musing over the words of Eodwine's song. She felt transported into a forest of green were shafts of shimmering light filtered throught the treetops, casting mosiacs on the floor of heather. Birds sung in the trees above, their voices rising and falling in time with the lilting of the harp. The breeze drifted into the grove, the leaves protesting all the way. The leaves turned a golden brown, shimmering in the light before gracefully falling to the ground; creating a carpet of gold. It wasn't long until the sweet voices faded to be replaced by the falling of snow, the bear branches offering little protection. Yet the heather, hardened by the years, clung stronly to the ground until the last of the snow had fallen and Lianda felt the warm sun on her back once more.

The fire was warm on her back as she awoke from her vision. People were talking and the dim light cast shadows on the ground. "That is my song, my surprise. I hope you liked it," said Eodwine, a tilted smile on his face. It was few seconds later that Lianda realised that someone was talking to her.

"Liking it is more of an understatement than ever," Lianda smiled, the warmth of happiness surrounding her, "for that I owe you a drink."

[Umwë]

The song that came from Eodwine made Umwë paralyzed. He sat, practically staring at Eodwine with and his eyes were filled with amusement. He felt how the happy atmosphere in the room rose to a level far beyond that he had ever felt, even back in his happy days in the golden forests of Lórien.

The song ended and Umwë smiled to Eodwine and he bowed towards him with honor and respect. He saw how Eodwine sat down again beside a woman again and they began talking again.

The hot midsommer air came flowing to Umwë and he really enjoyed his stay at the Inn. He sighed deeply of enjoyment and noticed how much people talked all around him and everybody seemed to have a good time.

Maybe I should take the initiative and join them, he thought and glanced over his shoulder at Eodwine and the woman beside him. He felt lonely and at this point when he was so happy and was in such a good mood, a bit of company wouldn't be wrong.

He sat and felt how he started to sweat. He was shy and didn't want to interrupt them both. He swallowed and stood up, but tottered a bit. He took a deep breathe and started walk towards them.

Here it goes, he thought, and when he stood in front of Eodwine and the woman he felt how he blushed.

"I-I..." he started. Oh no, come on Umwë, don't be so shy! "I would l-like to j-join you, if you don't mind?" he said and looked at them both. "By the way, my name is Umwë" he added and bowed quickly. He stood picking on his nails while awaited their reply.

[Nurumaiel]

The words of the song drifted into the kitchen where Maercwen still sat. She straightened in her chair, and then she stood. Slowly she went to the door, and she looked into the common room at the singer. Her eyes dimmed with tears, and she withdrew. The song made her think of the recently-departed Hearpwine, and also of her uncle Liornung. A sad little smile flitted across her face. She could imagine her uncle there, listening to the first verse of the song and then, with his skill, beginning to play it with his fiddle, adding harmonies of both low and high natures. She could not hope to see him again until spring, unless he desired to spend the winter within the warmth of the Inn. She would hope for that.

Within the common room, Deman and Fierlan, the twins of six years, stood, their faces bored and idle, but their eyes brightened at the song. Deman cast a scornful look at Mereflod and little Motan, who had begun to dance and laugh softly. They always danced when someone sang, even if the song were slow and sad. They spent their whole lives dancing, so it seemed. They stopped to eat occasionally, and to sleep, it was true, but mostly they danced, unless they were picking little flowers from their garden. Deman gave them one more look of scorn, and then he went with his twin to the stable.

When the song ended, little Motan gazed with wide eyes at the one who had performed. "Misser Hearpwine 'ooks odd," she said to her sister.

"That's not Hearpwine," said Mereflod, with a little titter. "That's someone else."

"No," little Motan insisted. "'E sings, just 'ike Misser Hearpwine, and 'e 'as a harp, too."

"Hearpwine isn't the only one who plays a harp," said Mereflod. "I tell you, Motan, that is someone else."

"Mayee," said Motan, "but 'e usn't pay the harp as 'ood as Misser Hearpwine."

"Maybe not," said Mereflod, "but neither does our uncle."

"Oh," said Motan, tossing her hair airily, "but no one plays the diddle as 'ood as Uncle 'Iornung."

"No," said Mereflod, "but Hearpwine doesn't play the fiddle very well, either."

They seemed to sense then that their conversation was just a little bit senseless, though at the same time they were unaware of the fact, and they left the building to make sure their garden was all right.

[littlemanpoet]

Lianda smiled. "For that I owe you a drink."

Eodwine raised a hand. "You owe me no such thing! If I have another, I think I will drift off to sleep where I sit!"

Lianda laughed. A man was walking toward them. No, he was an Elf. Eodwine tried to make himself become more sober. He was in awe of Elves. He was friendly with a few, but he felt as if he watched them from a great distance - - below - - even if he sat right next to one.

"I-I..." the Elf seemed to be a little wary. "I would l-like to j-join you, if you don't mind?" He looked at them both. "By the way, my name is Umwë." He bowed quickly, and awaited their reply.

Eodwine stood. "Well met, Umwë. I am Eodwine."

"I am Lianda."

"She is a seeker of pleasant surprises!" Eodwine added helpfully.

"Master Eodwine! If you please, I would speak for myself."

"Most sorry I am for that unpleasant surprise." He turned to Umwë. "I hope my little ditty did not disturb you."

Umwë shook his head, and seemed a little more at ease. "Oh, n-no! I found it q-quite delightful!"

"Thank you very much! Would you like to share a drink with us?"

"But you just turned down my offer!" Lianda protested.

Eodwine nodded. "And so I did, for I did not want to be an offensive lout in your presence by falling asleep and snoring before you! But with our new friend, Umwë here, there is a chance that I may remain awake long enough for my weary legs to find their way to my rooms."

"You are saying that I am boring," Lianda said through narrowed eyes, winking at Umwë, who watched the minor row with increasing fascination.

"Oh, no! I am saying that I would become lost in the contemplation of your beauty, and contemplation always puts me to sleep!"

Umwë allowed a grin to spread on his lips, as counterpoint to the half smile on the face of Lianda, whose hands had found her lips.

Eodwine was sure as the moon that he needed to change the topic right quick before he got into real trouble. "Server! Three ales as soon as you can! The best you have!"

[Kransha]

As songs were sung, and words spoken, and acquaintances made in the White Horse Inn of Edoras, Sigurd son of Sigmund thought on his fate in the inn, and his newest assignment, the duties of which were still enigmatic to him.

The youth contemplated now, for many long moments as he began to pace aimlessly throughout the inn. He wondered now which of the two, Aylwen or Bethberry, had guessed his true motivation for seeking the post of night watchman. It was not a job he had desired so much, nor was it one that seemed to be catered to his talents in any ways. He had ulterior motives and other ideas of how his nights might be spent. True, he would not betray Aylwen’s trust, or Bethberry’s proposition, but he could not help it if he strayed from their watchful gaze just a bit. He was but a lad, after all, and young men should have the independence to follow their own devices (though his uncle had often told him otherwise). It was a good feeling, the one that stirred somewhat foolishly inside him: he was hot with lively vigor, and sought to leap about as a sudden revelation overwhelmed him. He was free of the rigorous coils of his uncle, to some degree, the bound with new ones that had not yet been fully clarified. Aimless, but merrier, he wandered, as a gentle song wafted into his ears as gentle spring mists after a night of rain.

From Osric, Sigurd had some freedom now, and this gave him a great comfort. He had been taught by many tutors in his life, all provided for by the funds Osric collected, and the dug wealth found in his elaborate warrior’s pension. Many had been stifled, conservative, and drawling, but a chosen few had been brisk, relaxed, and even enjoyable to be around. Both Aylwen and Bethberry seemed as if they were the latter, when categorized, which raised Sigurd’s expectations even further. Aylwen could not be a great deal older than himself, for she still looked to be a fair maid (Sigurd dared not ask her age forthwith, fearing that he might pry too far). Maercwen was, to be sure, younger, and fairer of face, but Sigurd did not wish to let himself get distracted before he had an objective to be distracted from, Smiling inward and out, Sigurd turned back toward the Common Room, chuckling gratuitously as the twins, Motan and Mereflod, pranced nimbly past him and out of the inn, probably to engage in some willy-nilly horticultural activities.

Not far from Sigurd, his uncle sat in the same old chair, which creaked in protest beneath the metallic bulk of the armor clad elder. Osric heard the song as well, the verse that Sigurd had heard. It was Eodwine’s. Osric lay back in his chair, scratching idly at the nested innards of his grayish beard, worming several wrinkled but strong fingers through the hairy muddle. He then put his warm palm to his brow and, with his stilled digits, massaged his temples as the rhythm of the poetic song rung in his ears, musical and sunny, a beam of light in his cobweb-encrusted head. He, like several others, was reminded fleetingly of his passed friend Hearpwine, who now frequented another court, in another land, and sung his songs for another patron, whose patronage was of far more value than Osric’s. Osric thought briefly on that, pondering the difference of status, and his memories of a powerful vision when he stood beneath the gilded rafters of Meduseld itself, gazing upon the heralds of the next generation, and withered emissaries of his own. The site of the last Rohirrim viziers and counselors, lingering like gathered dust in the Golden Hall, would’ve depressed him then, had he not been awed by the sights and sounds.

Curiously, though, Elves in general did not strike any great emotion into the aged Rohirrim. He did remember his awe, the maddening desire to learn and to hear of Elven-kind that had coursed through him after he heard Hearpwine speak and sing of the Golden Wood, and the Lady, the enchantress who dwelled there. If there was any Elf who held a meaning deeper than face or voice, it was Galadriel, who Osric had never met, nor seen, nor heard, nor even spoken of often. And yet, all that he heard captivated him. He could only imagine what she looked like. Perhaps she bore the same youthful prowess of the Lady Éowyn, combined with that regal, powerful air of Morwen Steelsheen, the grandmother of that same woman, who now sat on the wooded throne in Ithilien, a forest land - like, indeed, the Golden Wood itself – which seemed so very distant, in both geography and in spirit, from the rolling plains, grassy, green, and unstained by the barrenness of other lands, of the Riddermark. The old Rohirrim’s brow furrowed at these thoughts, as a painful weight was loaded again onto him. Sighing deeply, he eased himself forward, resting his arms on the stiff table, and peered forward, his eyes dimming as his mind drifted to thoughts of Elves, Woods, and White Ships.

[Umwë]

Lianda gave Eodwine a gloomy look and sat with a sullen expression on her face.

Umwë smiled a bit embarassed and sat down with Eodwine. Eodwine’s and Lianda’s little argue fortunately didn’t go so far, Eodwine interrupted it by ordering three ales for them.

“I don’t want to cause any trouble.” Umwë said and looked down in the wooden table.

“Don’t worry” Eodwine said and pounded him heartily in the back. “Now let us all enjoy the finest ale they can offer.”

Lianda nodded now, and seemed a lot more happy. Umwë smiled to her and took a sip the ale that the server had been coming with. It tasted delicious, he had never had any ale tasted like this.

“By Eru! This ale is the best I’ve ever tasted!” Umwë exclaimed with a quick laugther. He felt how his good mood came back, and he didn’t feel shy anymore.

“How long have you been around here?” Umwë suddenly asked and his head turned from Eodwine to Lianda constantly.

This is what living is for, he thought and felt relieved that Lianda didn’t seem so angry anymore. At least he thought so. Eodwine seemed to be in a good mood to as he swung his ale and sang a silly song that Umwë almost could understand.

[astarielle]

Lianda was laughing so hard inside she struggled to keep from falling off her stool onto the floor in a very unlady-like manner. Their little 'argument' amused her some what, probably more so than it should have done. Now joined by Umwë, Lianda tried her best not to let the ale have its way with her.

The mood in the Inn was somewhat more jovial and the sounds of conversation grew louder and the familiar clink of ale mugs more frequent.

“How long have you been around here?” Umwë suddenly asked and his head turned from Eodwine to Lianda constantly.

"Here in the Inn, or Edoras?" Lianda tried to recollect how long she had actually been in the Inn and exactly how many mugs of ale she had drunk, it had to be a lot of mugs as she could not get an answer to either. Lianda shrugged and had some more ale, prehaps that would enlighten her. "I can answer neither exactly as this fine ale has clouded my judgement, but i've been in Edoras less than a day.......i think...." Lianda continued.

Eodwine had obviously not heard the question as he was srepeating the same line to his ditty over and over again changing one or two words at a time. He had seemingly forgotten the next phrase, or was that just the ale showing through?

"May I ask you the same question? I'm pretty sure you'd be able to answer with a little more certainty!" asked Lianda smiling.

[littlemanpoet]

"I was just thinking of the moon," Eodwine said to his two drinking partners, and it has put me in mind of a song. I heard it from a fellow soldier, who insists that he had it from a halfling of the north. Quite an odd song really, and my memory may fail me. I goes like this."

"There is an inn, a merry ol' inn
'neath an ol' gray hill,
An' there they brew an ale so frothy
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one nigh' to have a swill.

"The ostler has a booted cat
that sings and combs its hair;
And up and down he squeaks and howls,
Now meowing high, now purring low,
now pawing at the chair."

"Tha' part never did make sensssse to meep!" Eodwine murmured out of the side of his mouth to Lianda, but ended on a hiccup.

"The lan'lord keeps a little hog
tha' 's mighty fond of artichokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
He cocks his ear at all the jests
and grunts until he smokes."

"A silly song, really. Who ever heard of a 'og smoking because of jokes? Or is it grunts until he chokes? Or sings to all the folks? Or snorts until he chokes?" Eodwine shrugged his shoulders and quaffed his ale.

Lianda was talking to Umwë, smiling. "May I ask you the same question? I'm pretty sure you'd be able to answer with a little more certainty!"

"Wha' ques'ion?" Eodwine asked.

"H-how long have you b-been here?" Umwë supplied.

"Jus' t'day! I came in wi' the dawn from the Gap of Rohan. An' you, Umdilay?"

"Umwë," the Elf corrected politely.

"Ssssorry."

[Alaksoron]

Korik came in from the stables and heard Eodwine's attempt at song, who was now quite drunk. Nevertheless, the song transported Korik to a time long past, when he had watched a hobbit singing that very song while standing atop a table at the Prancing Pony, in Bree. Korik made his way slowly to where Eodwine was sitting and sat down beside his friend, humming the tune to himself. It was quite a sight, the white-cloaked Elf beside the half-drunk man. Korik raise his lovely voice and sang the song, and everyone nearby stopped to hear the beautiful sound.

There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old gray hill,
and there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays afive-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he runs his bow,
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.

The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes.

They also keep a horned cow
as proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green.

And O! the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
and these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons.

The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
a dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced,
and the little dog chased his tail.

The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and then rolled beneath his chair;
and there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air.

Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
'The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun'll be rising soon!'

So the cat on his fiddle played hey-didle-diddle,
a jig that would rouse the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
'It's after three!" He said.

They rolled the Man slowly up the hill,
and bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon.

Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor.

With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke!
the cow jumped over the Moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon.

The round moon rolled behind the hill
as the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed!

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine quieted and listened to Korik sing. His head seemed to clear, and he listened with delight. When Korik finished, Eodwine joined the others in applause.

"Well sung, Korik, my friend!" Eodwine said. "And your words were much better than what I learned. Thanks for that! We must have it again!"

"Not this minute, Master Eodwine. Singing has made me thirsty, and I have not had as much to drink as you. So I would have one of these ales that are supposed to be the best in the land."

[Umwë]

"Wha' ques'ion?" Eodwine asked.

"H-how long have you b-been here?" Umwë supplied.

"Jus' t'day! I came in wi' the dawn from the Gap of Rohan. An' you, Umdilay?"

"Umwë," the Elf corrected politely.

"Ssssorry."

"No problem." Umwë said and bowed. He took another gulp of his ale. Eodwine seemed fuzzy and quite drunk. Umwë glanced at Eodwine's ale. I wonder how many he has been drinking today, he thought and his gaze turned to a person, who he believed was a man, that entered and sat down beside them.

Suddenly he started to sing, and Umwë sat as he was enchanted by the song. His eyes became glassy and he drew a deep sigh.

There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old gray hill,
and there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays afive-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he runs his bow,
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.

The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes.

They also keep a horned cow
as proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green.

And O! the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
and these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons.

The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
a dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced,
and the little dog chased his tail.

The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and then rolled beneath his chair;
and there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air.

Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
'The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun'll be rising soon!'

So the cat on his fiddle played hey-didle-diddle,
a jig that would rouse the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
'It's after three!" He said.

They rolled the Man slowly up the hill,
and bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon.

Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor.

With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke!
the cow jumped over the Moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon.

The round moon rolled behind the hill
as the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed!

"Bravo!" Umwë exclaimed and clapped his hands. He felt even more joy now and the ale tasted really good.

"I am Umwë" Umwë said to the man and bowed with a smile.

"Korik is my name!" Korik replied with a smile.

"The song was beautiful! It reminds of the glorious days I have been spending in Lórien." Umwë said.

"It glads me that you enjoyed it." Korik said softly.

All the happy memories came back to Umwë. and for once, it wasn't sadness that he felt when he got reminded of Lórien. He actually felt happy and thankful for all the good days.

"By the way Eodwine. I came this morning, so not even a day have I spent here yet. But I look forward at a long and happy stay, as my company so far has been most pleasant!" He grinned to them all and raised his mug of ale and said with a smile "Cheers for all the happy moments life has to offer!"

"Cheers!" the others said in agreement and raised their mugs of ale.

Umwë now turned to the new person that had joined them, Korik. "So you have just arrived, friend Korik?" Umwë asked and awaited his reply.

[Bêthberry]

Light from lanterns and candles and fireplaces flickered out from the latticed windows of The White Horse and illuminated patches of the ground almost in time to the music that emanated from the Horse. Cheers and voices and laughter competed with the sounds of flute and harp as well. Bethberry could almost imagine the sign of the Horse swaying in time with the entertainment. She could not see any sign of the nightwatchman she and Aylwen had hired, but for the time being she satisfied herself with the thought that Osric could well be making his rounds on the other side of the Inn. She stabled her horse quickly and quietly, the ostler himself likely having dinner with his family or seeing the bairns to bed.

Lifting the heavy iron latch, Bethberry swung the front door open and stepped inside, her eyes temporarily blinded by the light and her senses overcome by the heady aromas and warm air of the inn. No one had as yet caught sight of her, so she quietly strode in, leaving her bags near the front desk, by her old room which now was Aywlen's room. Maercwen caught sight of her and nearly called aloud, but Bethberry, with a grin, but her finger to her lips and cautioned silence. She gave the girl a hug and whispered to her that it was good to be back and then walked calmly into the Great Hall with a tankard in her hand.

"What's this covering of the same song over and over?" she asked with mock sterness, as she caught the eye of new bards. The older children ran to her, crying out her name and jumping up on her nearly as if she was a tree to climb.

"Hold your horse, Deman and Fierlan," she laughed as she gave each a tight hug and a ruffling of their hair. "It's a good thing I at least am still steady on my feet."

Osric the old warrior harrumped at this and attempted to rise to welcome her whereas Lianda, Umwë, Eodwine and Korik seemed to reel around each other and stared at her blinkingly. It could not be denied that the sound of a belch or two punctuated the welcome.

[littlemanpoet]

"'Tis time I got these sodden legs into a bed. I think that they will not prop me up long enough to find my rooms."

As if to prove himself right, Eodwine rose from his stool and immediately slid to the floor, bumping his ale cup on the counter, its contents sloshing out and giving him a much needed shower, albeit of a too sticky liquid for proper cleansing.

"Ah me, maybe I should just sleep here."

"Nonsense," Korik said. "Umwë, please give me a hand with Master Eodwine."

"I bid you all a good night, my friends, and may the morrow find you in fine fettle and good spirits under a shining sun."

Korik and Umwë each took Eodwine by an arm, and hobbled him to his rooms. When they came back Korik said that the poor man was snoring between them before they laid him down.

[Bêthberry]

OOC

Writers of the Mark, please take a look at Fordim Hedgethistle's new game, Shadow of the West (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?t=11345).

It is a game of intrigue set in the Second Age and exploring the creation of the Nazgul.

Come join the fun!

Bethberry

[Bêthberry]

It was a chilly and grey day, the sky full of scudding clouds that looked blue with cold. The ground was crisp and frozen, even now, in mid-afternoon. Edoras was settling into an early winter.

The White Horse Inn creaked and groaned as its timbers rocked to the wind and the shutters bumbled up against the window frames. Mid-afternoon was always quiet at the Inn, for its patrons and guests were usually all busy completing their daily chores and tasks, but today especially people seemed to have chosen to stay indoors and not risk the inclement weather. For now the Horse was empty save for the staff.

Both fireplaces were lit, casting wide heat into the Great Hall and the smaller room, the word hoard. Candles and lanterns were not yet lit, although the darkening sky suggested they soon would be. Instead of summer flowers, the scent of pine and cedar boughs wafted through the main floor, followed by the rich aromas of stews and fresh breads in the kitchen. The only colour in the assorted bouquets came from the brilliant red stalks of sumach flowers and the intense red of hyerpicum and holly berries and rosehips.

The Innkeeper walked down the main stairwell into the main hall, having checked that all rooms were cleaned and had fires prepared should guests wish a warm room that night. She stopped by her desk near the huge oak front doors, checked her quill pens and sharpened some. She peeked quickly into the kitchen, but wished not to disturb the staff, so she did not stay to talk. Wrapping her old somewhat worn brown shawl around her shoulders, she picked up a book and carried it to the book hoard, where she curled up in a chair by the fire.

Would she nod off as the warmth spread through her bones or would she stay alert as the sounds of patrons soon came to be heard? Time would tell...

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

As she rode in sight of the Inn, Saeryn sighed quietly. The damp wind picked its way about the young woman as her hood fought in vain to stay put. Tendrils of auburn hair escaped their pins to dance before her tired eyes. Impatiently she brushed them aside and rode on, her usually feisty mare as exhausted as Saeryn herself.

"Almost, Dawndancer, just some further..." she crooned to her companion. At the sound of her mistress's voice, the mare perked up. Food and drink awaited them both; the finest in Rohan by all accounts. Saeryn allowed herself to melt away into dreams of hearty stews and mugs of something hot and spiced before dismounting and leading her horse to the stables.

With a generous tip to the stablehands as well as a final caress of her horse, Saeryn entered the Inn. Finding the room deserted, but for a drowsy face near the fire, she made her way over, leaving the threshold behind. "Madam," she spoke tiredly, "Could you please help me? I would be forever in your debt if you could help me find a room for the night, a hot bath, and something generally nourishing for me to eat." Saeryn pulled off her travel-stained cloak, revealing equally functional breeches and a man's shirt beneath. It is good, she thought, to have finally made it to The White Horse.

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry had been drawn out of her revery by the tread of light feet upon the long pine planks of the Horse's flooring. And what to her surprise did she see but a young woman, travel-weary but most sensible, asking for warmth of room and food. Her large cloak was muddied and spoke of many days of travel. I wonder what brings her here, thought Bethberry to herself.

"Welcome, stranger. I am the Innkeeper, Bethberry, so you've made your request to the right person. I can indeed offer you a cosy room with bath and a feather bed if you want more than a straw mattress and a dinner that will warm you where the water won't reach. I've just seen to the rooms and know we have logs prepared; a fire can be lit at a time of your choosing, now or after you have eaten."

"I'll eat first, if I may," the woman replied, without giving her name.

"As you wish," replied the older woman, somewhat intrigued that the younger had withheld her name. "Do you have any particular preferences or shall I simply ask the cook to prepare a tray of hot ragout and steaming vegetables, with hearty tart to finish it off?"

"That will do. And do you have hot cider?"

"Now, would we be a respectable Inn if we didn't?" retorted Bethberry, but with a gleem in her eye.

"Somehow I doubted The White Horse would have a limited choice of beverage or food."

"Did you now? And how pray tell do you know of the Horse?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"How I know of The Horse, you ask? Apart from rumours, (how I hope they are right!), of the legendary hospitality... my brother Fenrir stopped here some years back as he was passing through on his way to--" she suddenly broke off, her face flushing. "He stopped and gave a glowing recommendation." she finished rather lamely.

I cannot believe I almost told a complete stranger about Fenrir! Saeryn silently berated herself. I never even told Degas about that adventure... What the Innkeeper would think if she knew of that. I'll tell you what she would think, Saeri, she would think "Let's just ship this girl right back out the door!". Be. More. Careful.

Bethberry watched in fascination as the mysterious woman fell silent. First this woman, not long out of girlhood, had appeared, alone but for a horse, in the middle of the afternoon, on a day that any sane soul would stay indoors. She had then began to answer a simple question, only to stop dead when she uttered the name 'Fenrir'. Just who is this girl? wondered Bethberry.

"Strange chap, my brother." Saeryn added unblushingly as she sipped her cider a few moments later. "Red hair... rather quiet." She trailed into silence as she began her meal, blowing carefully on each well-seasoned spoonful of stew before placing it in her mouth.

On his way to where, I wonder, thought the Innkeeper. And I still don't know her name or her business... Not, of course, that I must know everything, Bethberry quickly corrected herself with a grin.

Finishing her ragout, Saeryn arose at last, weary legs soon to give out beneath her. Wrinkles creased her brown breeches. Her hairpins had long since lost their battle, leaving the mass of loosely curled tresses to cascade down her back. "My room?" she asked.

"Ah, yes." smiled Bethberry. Beckoning, she led Saeryn away from the tables and through another door. "This way, m'dear. We'll get you fixed right up. Would you like to be awoken in the morning? Perhaps a breakfast brought to your room? Will you be staying long?" she added, perhaps as an afterthought, as she unfastened the heavy lock on an altogether heavier wooden door near the end of the hall.

"I thank you, but I shall simply invade the kitchens when I awaken." Saeryn answered with an impish gleam in her eye. "As for the length of my visit... I had hoped to stay for some time... I plan to journey north come spring, and I had counted on remaining in this area until then; that will not be a problem, I hope?"

[littlemanpoet]

Loud voices could be heard through the front door of the inn.

"Now don't be thinking that your long legs are going to take you beyond the reach of my voice that easily, Master Big Trouble of the Gap!"

"I would not think it possible that I could be so easily rid of you, Master Falco!"

The door opened. A tall, blonde Rohirrim walked in, followed by one of the Holbitla, who had a pipe in his mouth, which did not keep him from saying aplenty. The Holbitlan looked around as they walked in.

"Is this the best you've got, Master Eodwine? Why, seven out of ten inns in the Shire would put this place to shame for warmth and comfort! Where is everybody?"

"I know not. But it is warm enough compared to outside, and soon enough we shall have bellies full of hot food and good beer."

"Ah! That's more like it! But all the tables and chairs are too high!"

"I am sorry, Master Falco, but the Holbitla pass this way seldom enough that Rohan does not cater to the odd chance that one might appear any day of the week."

"You must quiet calling me a whole bit, see, or I'll give you something to curl your tongue around. I'm a Hobbit, not a whole bit!"

Though the halfling's words were sharp, his tone was playful, and Master Eodwine grinned. "Hobbit it is then. Would you like me to lift you into a chair, my friendly unfriend?"

"Keep your oversized hands off of me! I'll scramble up myself before I'll let some Big Trouble handle me like one of their toddlers! Ah well. If I have to stand on this chair, then I must."

"Perhaps we can convince the barkeep to find a few tomes for you to sit on."

Eodwine and Falco waited for service, having noticed that the only two other people in the great room were busy in conversation. Eodwine knew one of them for the innkeeper, Bêtheberry, but the other he did not know. He intended to greet them both as soon as they finished their talk.

[Bêthberry]

There had been a problem with the chimney in the room which Bethberry had shown Saeryn. Perhaps the wood was damp, or the wind particularly strong blowing down the flue, but at first neither Aedre the maid nor Bethberry had been able to get the fire roaring. Each had taken turns stoking and poking the fire and each in turn became wreathed with the aroma of wood smoke. It was not an unpleasant smell, but the air did become thick. Saeryn was beginning to wonder if this really was the fabled White Horse Inn, but, finally, with much use of tinder and the bellows, the fire caught. Bethberry opened the shutters slightly to allow the sooty air to waft out, taken in violent gusts by the early winter wind, and so soon the room was returned to a respectable level of clean air. Bethberry threw in a handful of herbs and soon their aroma replaced that of cinders.

"Well now," she said to her guest. "Are you sure you will want to stay? Such an ornery fire might prove troublesome."

Saeryn laughed and coughed a bit to clear her throat of the final bit of smokey ash and assured Bethberry she would stay and so the Innkeeper left Aerdre with the responsibility of preparing the hot water for the bath. This was one bath that would not inspire a song unless it be an ironic one.

With that, Bethberry returned to the Great Hall, anxious as the closer she approached to the Great Hall, the louder could voices be heard. Indeed, The Horse had new guests! Well, not new. She knew one of them as an old acquaintance but the other, well. Clearly she was going to have to do something to make him more comfortable with the Horse.

"Eodwine, greetings on a blustery day! And you have brought company I see."

"Uncomfortable company, Madam," retorted the smaller one, standing tall in the chair with a haughty regard.

"Oh, yes, I see. You do appear to have the wrong aspect of your anatomy upon the chair."

Eodwine gave a chortle and Bethberry called for Maercwen to bring some ale, cheese and bread for the guests.

"Are you having a fling abusing guests?" retorted the halfling.

"I bet your pardon?" queried Bethberry.

"You appear to have just returned from burning that nice young girl at the stake." The halfling fluttered his hand towards Bethberry's hair, which indeed still did carry the aroma of smoke and ash.

Bethberry choked back a noise something between a chortle, grin and gasp. Perhaps she still had some dust or ash caught in her throat.

"No, I was able to sacrifice an oak instead," retorted the Innkeeper with mock seriousness.

"Master Falco, I must remind you to keep a civil tongue in your cheek," interjected Eodwine.

"My tongue is firmly where it belongs, thank you very much. But the other parts of me are not."

"Allow me, then," said Bethberry with a flourish, skipping quickly off to the Word Hoard and returning with several stuffed pillows, "to relieve you. We certainly don't intend to make it a habit to give hobbits standing orders."

Falco snorted his clear sense of impropriety in the matter but accepted the pillows without much futher loss to his dignity.

"Eodwine, what else would you and your friend like to order? Some hot food?" queried Bethberry, deciding that the best way to placate the hobbit was to put food in his belly, quickly.

[littlemanpoet]

"I shall leave that to you, Bethberry. I am sure you know best," said Eodwine.

"Master Eodwine, I'd think you were running for mayor!" said Falco. "Make a choice unless saying you've been here before was a fib to get me through the doors!"

"Nay, 'twas no fib my unfriendly friend. Bethberry herself can tell you I have been this way before."

"Aye, 'tis so," said Bethberry. "I would not go so far as to say he's a regular, but he's been through a time or two."

"There you have it, Master Falco!" Eodwine gestured broadly.

"Not a regular, eh? What ha' you been up to afore I rescued you from that mud hole?"

Eodwine's eyes went wide and his head came back in disbelief. "You rescued me? Not so! 'Twas I who rescued you!"

"Have it your way! What are we ordering, longshanks?"

"What is the best tonight, Bethberry?" Eodwine queried.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

With a final assurance to the maid, Aedre, of her satisfaction, Saeryn was allowed to close the door to her newest home. Tears of mirth lit her eyes as they rested on the dancing fire.

Piling her smoky clothing and boots neatly on the floor, Saeryn climbed into her bath, savouring the feel of the hot water on her skin. Several times she dozed until she finally, clean and content, gave up on soaking and redressed with the idea of a post dinner snack.

Her clean clothes flattered Saeryn as her others had not. As she padded back to the Great Hall, the black breeches, equally functional, but of better make than the brown, worked with her soft crimson tunic to hug the girl's slender figure. Her long, damp tresses were currently held the unwilling hostages of a well-meaning braid.

Her exhausted body ordering her to bed, Searyn walked in the opposite direction of her room. Seeing two men beside Bethberry, Saeryn made to sneak away, not desiring to interrupt, but the Innkeeper beckoned her forward.

"I hope your bath suited you? I fear I must plead forgetfulness, m'dear, but what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't.... I am called Saeryn."

[Bêthberry]

OOC

Open a new keg! We have some new members of Rohan to celebrate.

Congratulations are due to Nuranar for founding and running the very successful game Wilderness, Weathertop, and Wild Things with the always-able Envinyatar. Welcome to full status in Rohan as Game Player and Game Founder, Nuranar!

From the same game we welcome Primrose Bolger and Saurreg as Game Players to Rohan. Good characterisations, cooperative work, and good ability to move the action forward, both you!

I also ought to commend current Rohan Gamers Envinyatar, Esgalhugwen, Fordim, Kransha, and Meneltarmacil for good work in this game as well.

I particularly enjoyed the very creative naming of characters in this game. Names can sometimes be difficult to create, but every one of the characters in this game was superbly named.

Come join some festivities at either of Rohan's glorious Inns!

Bêthberry,
Moderator for Rohan

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine rose. "Hail and well met, Saeryn. I am Eodwine of the Gap, one of King Eomer's messengers." He looked down at the still sitting Falco, then back to Saeryn. My friend here would rise from his table also, but his is the unhappy lot of being a Holbitla with legs too short to stand up on."

"Unhappy lot! Legs too short!" Falco stood on his pillows. "You're an overgrown dandy with a tongue so silver it gives you a bad after taste! At my expense no less!" He turned to the maiden and bowed. Master Falco Boffin of the Shire at your service, my fair lass. Won't you join us? We'd love to share board with you, soon as we get some vittles and beer for our empty stomachs." He glanced meaningfully at Bêthberry.

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry peered over at Master Falco's tankard. It was none too full.

"It would seem you already have a leg up on the one item," she observed with every effort at a straight face.

"Aye, and not a short one either," replied Eodwine, with just as straight a face.

"Well, the long and the short of it is," interjected Saeryn. " that some throats need a clear rinse to remove any smokey particles that might have lodged therein."

Bethberry coughed at this. And then coughed again.

"May I be of service?" inquired Eodwine. He leaned over the table and with aplomb and a flourish produced a napkin with which he began to rub a sooty black mark off the Innkeeper's cheek.

"Well I say, there's a cheeky rub," observed Master Falco. "You intend to work for your dinner, do you?"

Whereupon the Innkeeper coughed harder, this time with a laugh to cover the event, as she took up the napkin herself.

"It's all a matter of timing," replied Master Eodwine with an arched frown at the halfling.

"Time I called Maercwen out here to tend to your dinner." replied the Innkeeper, attempting to restore some dignity to the occasion.

"Master Eodwine and Master Falco, and Mistress Saeryn, what say you to these comestibles and potables?

"Leek and chicken pie, in cream sauce."
"Rabbit ragout with raisins and neeps."
"Braised mushrooms with onions and wine."
"Rohan pudding with beef drippings."
"Black rye bread to be dipped in oil."

"Oh, I say yes," replied Folco, somewhat glassy eyed at the thought.

"Very well then. Frodides will prepare that for tomorrow's dinner."

An appreciable loss of enthusiasm seemed voiced on the air as three people attempted to hide their frustrated appetites by swalowing air.

"Tonight it shall be bean and spinach soup, with stuffed salmon and corn pudding, followed by apple cobbler. I believe that is what Frodides has prepared."

"And I suppose you will serve that with coffee," murmered a disgruntled Falco.

"Only if you insist. The Big Folk are free to have dark stout or lager," intoned the Innkeeper. "Or perhaps you would prefer carrot juice?"

Certain faces turned livid with this while others broke out into broad grins.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Masters Falco and Eodwine, I am honored to join you, but I must warn: I have already dined on a sumptuous meal under the watchful eye of the Innkeeper. However... I would be ingratiated to you once again, Bethberry, if you could provide me with another flagon of cider? Spirits tend to leave me rather ill."

Saeryn sunk into the beginnings of a curtsy before remembering that her only gown was packed away in her bags. She stumbled before catching herself and sweeping into a dramatic bow. She grinned, unabashed, at the two males in front of her. She hesitated to think 'men', even to herself, for fear of accidentally insulting her new holbytla companion. Her desire for bed had completely evaporated at these friendly faces.

An expression of youthful curiousity played in the light against Saeryn's eyes. A hobbit? Here in Rohan?

"Master Folco, if you'll allow for a girl's curiosity, how came you to Rohan? I must admit to surprise... I have never before seen a halfling." At least not in these parts. Saeryn added silently. Stop thinking of that! She reminded herself. The past is the past.

[littlemanpoet]

Falco grinned with delight.

"Oh no, now you have done it," said Eodwine, "asking Falco for a story. We'll be here all night."

Falco scowled at him. "You, my lanky lout, have no appreciation for a good story, even when you're in it!"

Saeryn couldn't help a grin of amusement spreading on her face, and covering her mouth with her hand, made as if to cough.

"Oh no," Eodwine rolled his eyes, "not that one."

"Of course, that one! It's the one that answers the lady Saeryn's question!"

Eodwine raised a hand in mock surrender and sighed hugely. "All right, all right. Just let me drown my wits first."

"Your wits have been drownded since before I ever met you," Falco retorted. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes! In answer to your question, lady Saeryn-" the hobbit stopped to take a long pull from his ale, and then took a deep breath.

"Here we go again," Eodwine mumbled.

"I saved this poor wretch's life."

"Oh! Did you!" Saeryn exclaimed.

"That he did," Eodwine said. "And he will never let me forget it. I have heard him tell the tale more times than I can count."

"It's a good tale!" Falco insisted.

"And grows with each telling," Eodwine commented into his mug.

"It does no such thing! Now, before my ungrateful cohort interrupts yet again, it all began one fair summer day back in the Shire...."

[littlemanpoet]

"...and the foul villain turned out to be none other than the Mouth of Sauron, trying to set himself up as a new dark lord in the north, if you will believe me."

"She'll believe you all right," Eodwine said over the last bits of his third helping of apple cobbler. "Quite good this repast!"

"So there we were in the farthest reaches of the Hills of Evendim (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/showthread.php?t=5614), and this poor lout was tied down to the fiend's altar, and there I was, sneaking on my quiet Hobbit feet, knife in hand, and I leapt over the altar and fell upon the fiend from above!"

"You did no such thing," Eodwine smirked.

"Now don't go messing up the tale," Falco scolded.

"I needn't try, you do quite well on your own." Eodwine brought his fourth mug of ale to his lips to hide his grin.

"Don't listen to him, Lady Saeryn," Falco said, he's just sour grapes that he had to be rescued instead of the other way abouts. So long story short-"

"As if that were possible any longer," Eodwine interrupted.

"Long story short," Falco enunciated broadly, staring narrowly at Eodwine, I cut down the fiend, then cut the Big Lout loose. He proceeded to trip into the fiend as he tried to get off the altar, and knocked him into the evil spirit the fiend had trapped, and both flew into the east together, never to bother the West again."

"At least as far as we know," Eodwine commented.

"Master Eodwine! Do not scare the young lady!"

"I am sure she is quite in a state of abject terror from the frightening way you relate the tale."

"Speak Common, you Big Lout! I can't understand you when you throw all those Elvish borrowings in! Too much schooling! Nothing's worse for a body, I say."

"And what of you, Saeryn?" asked Eodwine, "What tales have you to share tonight?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Not quite managing to hide her smile behind ivory fingers, Saeryn giggled.

"Abject terror indeed!" she murmered laughingly. "A tale, you ask for... let me rummage through the corridors of my mind and see if I can dig up a good one."

Saeryn's pretty face disappeared behind her mug. "Ah yes..." she began, setting her drink on the table with a light clink. "Not so very long ago, there was an incredibly beautiful young lady, who looked not unlike me." Here she gave a conspiritorial wink to her companions. "She went on many adventures with her eldest brother, although he was rarely informed of her presence, him having a rather over-protective constitution toward her... On the last such adventure, they both got into all sorts of mischief, with the end result of several tavern bans, a badly ripped pair of breeches, and a very angry hobbit."

At those words, Falco leaned forward, intent. At the very first, Eodwine had sat back in his chair so as not to be unnecessarily burdened with the effort of sitting up when he could be instead listening to a good yarn.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Looking thoughtfully at her audience, Saeryn contemplated fiction. To tell the whole truth, or to tell slightly less than it? Ah... they can guess for themselves.

"And so, my friends, the girl's brother set out one night into the fiery red dusk in search of a good time. Not wishing to stay home and... dare I say it... clean... the girl set off at a quiet trot some distance behind him. Dressed in greys and greens, she and her brown mare faded into the high grasses. He never once suspected what trouble they would cause."

Time passed as Saeryn spun out her tale. The food was temporarily forgotten as she told of their arrival to the tavern and subsequent challenge at the door. By then, the girl's brother had discovered and regretfully accepted her presence.

"A challenge!?" cried out Falco jumping to his feet. "They dared challenge a lady? Her brother solved the problem, I hope." he said with indignation on the girl's behalf.

"Sit, Master Halfling, and let the lady finish her tale, or did you want to finish it for her?" Falco sat grudgingly, shooting Eodwine a look that would kill.

"And so then, if you'll believe it," Saeryn laughed, "They pulled their instruments from beneath their cloaks and outplayed every musician in the tavern!"

"They didn't..."

[littlemanpoet]

"They didn't!" Eodwine said.

"Well they should!" Falco retorted. "A perfect way to set up the tale. I'm wanting to know how playing better than anybody else gets you banned from a tavern, though."

"Mind you, Lady Saeryn," Eodwine interrupted conspiratorially but too loudly for the hobbit to miss, "Master Falco's a lawman. He'll suspect greater foul play than just playing better than everybody else."

"That's lawhobbit, if you please!" Falco retorted, then turned to Saeryn. "But I'm only a shirriff of the Shire." His chest puffed out noticeably, despite his humble words. "But I admit I'm curious about your crime, if that's what it was. Say away, and I'll ask you to forgive Master Eodwine's rude interruption seeing as he hasn't the sense to ask hisself."

"I beg your-!" Eodwine began, and stopped short, his eyes narrowing and a grin spreading. "Tut tut! You almost had it out of me, but I'll not beg your pardon for anything, Master Falco, at least not until I'm properly thanked for saving your hairy feet from that mud hole west of here. But since that's as like to happen as you telling a story straight and true, we might as well ask the fair lady Saeryn for the rest of her tale."

"Windbag," Falco declaimed, waiting intently for the young maid to continue.

"Twisty tongue," Eodwine returned out of the side of his mouth, nodding to Saeryn, who opened her mouth to continue her tale.

"Overgrown lummox," Falco said.

"Half sized showoff."

"Enough, you two!" Saeryn laughed, having tried thrice to restart her tale. "Take a draught of your ale to keep your mouths busy so I can finish my story!"

"Right you are, lady" they said as one, and lifted their ale cups.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Banned, Master Falco, because three of the outplayed were the Owner, his wife, and their son! You see, the challenge was this: the presense of a lady was frowned upon mightily in this tavern... fools that they were... and so in order to get in, the girl had to prove her worth. First she proved her riding skills in a race with the owner's boy... winning so very easily on her spritely little mare. That horse's feet danced like raindrops on a stone walkway."

Saeryn paused again for another swallow of her drink.

"Then, if you don't mind my saying, the girl and her brother beat the Owner and his wife in a dancing competition! Oh, but to see her feet flutter... and her brother; what a trick it had been for her to calm his outrage at the challenges. But the next tavern was another hour's ride away!"

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry's sides hurt and she had to wipe her eyes dry. She couldn't remember when she had laughed so hard. In fact, she couldn't stop laughing.

"T-t-twisty tongue," she blurted out, between bouts of laughter. "H-h-h-h-halfsized s-s-s-showoff." She laughed so hard her chair was creaking and she nearly rolled off one side.

Her laughter wasn't infectious, however, for it had intruded upon Saeryn's story. And it mightily offended Master Falco, who had no desire to hear "Halfsize" reiterated. Eodwine was himself insensed that someone else had the audacity to take over his words. Both of them nearly sputtered calumnations upon the Innkeeper.

"Oh dear," giggled the Innkeeper, trying hard to gain control of a sombre demeanour, but failing completely. This time she nearly tipped into the table. "Whoops," she chortled. "Ahem," she coughed.

"My good lady, be so kind"--a sputter of suppressed mirth here--"as to repeat your story. I am afraid I missed almost all of it." Bethberry cleared her throat and pulled her tunic down, sitting up straight in her chair. "What sort of dance was it, you say?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"That was the beauty of it, Mistress Bethberry; it was no set dance!" said Saeryn as she demonstrated the feat. With her thick braid twisting through the air behind her like a snake, Saeryn twirled about the room happily. "With feet flying this way and that, barely treading the floor, we flew about the room. I am not sure how precisely we won that competition, as neither--"

"We?" quietly interrupted Eodwine. "I thought this story was about a girl and her brother."

Colliding loudly with a table, Saeryn turned a vivid shade of crimson and sputtered. "I... uh... Well it um..."

"Do I detect some underhanded covering up of the truth?!" cried Falco with an amused smile.

"Now you wait just one moment, Master Falco!" cried Saeryn, only half offended. "The story is about a girl and her brother, but that girl just happens to be me, and the brother happens to be my own."

"No need for raised voices." interceded Bethberry. "It's a lovely story. Please continue..."

"Well anyhow... Fenrir and I beat the tavern-goers at their own game... I assure you, they did not much like that, nor the idea that I should be allowed to stay. I assure you, I never would have tolerated the race or the dance-off had I not been in the mood for the games."

"Of course not."

"And so then the men of the place decided that fairly or not, I was not to stay in that building. The oafs impolitely asked that I remain outside while Fenrir had a drink to celebrate his victory, which, I might add, was mine!"

"He did not agree to it!?"

"He did indeed. For all that I love my brother dearly, he is a fool. And so I slapped him across the face."

"Good for you! Three cheers for the Lady Saeryn! Hip hip--"

"Be silent, half-pint, and let the lady finish."

"Half-pint! Why you--"

"Gentlemen."

Saeryn offered no attempt to cover the smile that now broadly adorned her face. Her amusement was evident in the lilt in her voice.

[Nurumaiel]

Gomen lingered about the table where the tales were being told, listening with wide eyes, full to the brim with wonder and excitement. His heart, keen to feel adventure and song, beat quicker, and he drew nearer and nearer to the table, hoping to catch the words better. The tale-telling company seemed such a jolly one, and he supposed they were all friends. Maybe Bethberry, too, was very familiar with these people. He rather wished he could make friends with them, too. He took another step closer, and he was almost to the table.

"Gomen, dearie!" came the call from the kitchen, and he sprang away, trying not to laugh at himself. He was like a little moth, drawn to the candle, except his heart and mind were caught by the story-telling. Of course he should have been quite awkward in their company, knowing none of them but Bethberry. He preferred more than anything to just sit near a table and listen, but he did not like to partake in the conversation, unless it was with his Uncle Liornung or Hearpwine.

Frodides was in the kitchen, where she usually was, and while she looked older, she was just as beautiful. That fleeting beauty of youth was gone, true, but it was replaced with the beauty that comes to a woman's face when she devotes her life to the little people, that special beauty can only be seen in a mother. Many strands of grey were in the golden hair tied at her neck, and there were lines of care on her face, but also lines of laughter and joy, and her eyes shone with maternal fondness as she looked at her eldest son.

"Gomen, love, go to the stable and tell your father to come in soon, for dinner is almost ready, and it is growing dark."

"Yes, Mamma," said Gomen, and out he went, into that fine evening air of the summer. Deman and Fierlan were just outside the stable, playing with their make-believe swords, and when they heard dinner was almost ready, they gave cries of delight and pattered away on their little feet, anxious not to miss anything. Mereflod and Motan were in the garden, picking a few flowers and kissing the rest. Gomen paused to listen to them for a moment, for their sweet little minds had decided that they were the mother flowers and those dwelling in the garden were their children, and they were tucking them into bed. Gomen thought it was beautiful, and wondered if it could ever be put into verse.

Leofan apparently knew that dinnertime was drawing nigh, for he was just finishing up his work, and he called upon Gomen's assistance. In silence they gave the horses their second feed of the day and prepared things for the night, but when they were finished Leofan did not leave. Rather, he put his shoulder to one of the walls and leaned against it, thoughtfully looking at his son. And after a pause, he spoke, saying: "You're a very good help in the stable, son. It is very fine for a man growing old to have a little assistance so he will not break his back."

"It was naught by my pleasure," said Gomen.

Leofan was silent for a moment more, but before he spoke again he sighed a little. "You're quite interested in the trade of your uncle, aren't you? Music and singing, and story-telling?"

"Yes," said Gomen, with a little nod of assent.

"I thought as much." He sighed again, and folded his arms. "I've been trying to work it out in my mind. I don't want to hinder you in doing what you will, saving that it is not a wrong choice of life, but I do need help in the stable. I'm getting older, and it becomes harder to work. I don't want to fail Bethberry and Aylwen in my task, but I can't do it alone."

Gomen bowed his head and said, very lowly, "You know I'll help you, Father."

"Yes, I do know," said Leofan, "but that doesn't mean I want you to. I don't want you to if it will make trouble for you, but I do need you to. So, listen, this is what I've thought of: you will stay and help me in the stable, but at the same time you will learn what you need to know to become a minstrel. Your uncle will be back for the winter, I think. He says he needs some place to stay while the weather is cold and ill for travelling about. He'd be more than happy to instruct you, I think, and at the same time you can help me with my work. I think you will learn better if you have to do something not particularly pleasing to you, and when you are at last on the path of life you have chosen it will seem sweeter because of what you had to do for it. It will strengthen you in selflessness too, and when you are old you can recall how you made your training to be a minstrel something very worthwhile, because you gave up some of your pleasures of it to help your aged father and your family."

What Gomen was thinking could not be said, but his eyes were twinkling when he looked up again. "You aren't so old yet, Papa," he said. "But I'll break my back if it will spare yours."

"Good lad that you are," said Leofan, and together they went from the stable. Motan was in her father's arms in a moment, saying: "Ah you done 'orkin' in the sta'le, Papa?"

"Yes, darling, so come back to the Inn and have dinner with me," said Leofan, and he kissed her bonny gold hair.

[littlemanpoet]

"Gentlemen."

Eodwine caught the amusement in the lady Saeryn's voice, evident also in her twinkling eye. Ah, if only he were young again. Like that boy who had stepped closer and closer to their table as the three of them talked. Eodwine had smiled at the boy, and had been getting ready to speak to him when he had been called away. Ah, to be a boy again, with all the dreams and joys still lying ahead of you. Sorrow was all in the future. He sighed and turned his thought to the present.

"Lady," Eodwine bowed, "we dishonor you with our bickering. Forgive us."

"I am curious," Falco Boffin said to Eodwine, standing on his chair to get a better look at the lady's garb, "is it common for Rohirric women to wear breeches?" He spoke a little too loudly and was overheard by Saeryn, who colored slightly.

"Fairly," Eodwine said. "Rohirric women who ride horses wear them. And our shieldmaidens do as well. The Lady Eowyn is somewhat responsible for it, I daresay."

"What? How's that?" Falco asked.

"Have you not heard the tale of how the Lady Eowyn defeated the Dark Lord's Lieutenant during the War?"

"Yes, I heard it, from the Master of Buckland hisself, who had a part in the deed too, I ask you to remember. But women's wearing of breeches started with that?"

"I do not think so, but it gained acceptance at court and in town; that much I can say."

"I for one am glad of it," Saeryn announced with enthusiasm.

"I am curious about another thing," Eodwine said. "Your brother is not with you. What has become of him?"

[Bêthberry]

Despite her tears of laugher, Bethberry caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She watched Gomen return to the kitchen to answer his mother's call and wished she had seen his stealthy, quiet approach rather than his departure, for she would have introduced him to the table. He was an old enough lad to begin to be able to converse with the patrons of the Inn and she knew he harboured wishes for learning how to develope storey himself.

But Saeryn's demonstration of the shahallion-like dance fired her interest, as did the confession of who the story referred to. Every storey tells a life, as she recalled an old staying, although who's life is not always clear.

"A brother and a sister do not always get along so well," Bethberry observed, hoping to prod Saeryn to tell more about the fate of the brother.

Saeryn, catching her breath from the wild dance, nodded her head with an agreement to continue, but before she could, a voice hailed everyone from the door.

"Bethberry, it's a chill day out. Have you got any hot cider for old bone?" It was Ruthven, the rag lady, come to visit a friend. Without waiting upon an answer, she hobbled as fast as those old bones would allow her into the Great Hall, where she took a seat beside the Innkeeper. "Have you been riding a broom, mistress? There's the scent of cinder about you." Yet her eyes sparkled as she spoke and she nodded towards the young woman, the tail end of whose dance she had just witnessed.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Where is Fenrir? Why do I travel alone? How the bloody well do I answer that question? Saeryn trembled.

"I travel alone, Masters, for lack of suitable companion. My parents were killed when I was young, and my siblings have all parted ways. The last that I knew, my twin brother Degas was in Gondor, performing ballads for the King." Eodwine studied the girl... a twin? And what was that look in her eye... perhaps fond memories.

"Caelwyn, my sister, was travelling toward the Shire on personal business." Vengeance, she thought. "And as for Fenrir... I haven't the slightest, nor do I care where the fool ends up. I have not seen him in a year."

"Beg pardon, Lady Saeryn. I meant no--"

"Do not beg of me, Master Eodwine, for my pardon is hard to come by, and you have yet to need it. I miss Degas and Caeli dearly, but to be done with Fenrir is no sad loss. However, you make appease me," she said, spirits high again, "with another tale of your own. Or perhaps Bethberry has one?"

[Esgallhugwen]

Though the first of winter is a welcomed reprieve from field work, it is a burden to a sore traveler. Especially for a young wounded one.

How long have I been walking?

A voice rattled in the young woman's head, she squinted her eyes against the chill wind and looked down at her feet that were barely covered by her tattered skirt, no shoes the rattled thought spoke, no, not for a long time.

A horrible cough breached her lips as she staggered forward on numb feet, falling to her knees small pebbles and rocks bit into her frozen skin. She cursed hoarsely under her breath and picked herself up, almost falling again.

Her body was riddled with bruises, old and new, scratches and scrapes, old and new, and a few scares. But nothing marred her face save for a cut on her lip and smears of dirt. The cold seemed to be eating away at her and the grey rag that was once called a cloak provided no comfort.

But still she clung to her frail consciousness despite the numb sinking feeling that was swimming before her. She could feel the cooling blood trickling down her legs, hot tears burned her frosted cheeks and her teeth began to chatter visciously inside her skull.

How long have I been walking?

She followed the road upward knowing not where it led, knowing little other then that she would probably die in the street and be covered up by the impending snow. Another cough racked her body and she held back the urge to vomit.

Turning a corner a sign caught her vague attention.

The White Horse Inn

She would have laughed had she the strength, she clambered up the steps with aching toes, and attempted to push back the door. No she couldn't, as if someone had pushed it against her, she had no strength to open a simple door.

You can stop now Gudryn, he won't find you.

Darkness overwhelmed her and she hit the door with a muffled thump before falling to the ground. He won't find you.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine was about to start his tale of the "Bumptious Barkeep of Belfalas" when he heard a thump at the door. He looked but no one came through. It sounded like someone had dropped a sack at the steps.

"What do you suppose that was?" he asked the others.

They offered various guesses, but something niggled at Eodwine, and though he was on his third stiff one - he had lost count - he felt sobred somehow, enough anyway to have an ill feeling about the noise. He got up, went to the door, and opened it. Lying on the front step was a waif of a girl, her hair bedraggled, cuts and bruises all over her limbs, blood clotting on her legs, bare of feet, and her cloak not worth calling one.

"Falco! Bethberry!"

Falco knew that tone. It was no joke. He hastened to Eodwine's side and saw the girl. "Bring 'er inside!" he said.

Eodwine lifted the girl in his arms. She felt as light as a bird, and seemed as broken as one too.

Bethberry saw his burden. "Bring her to the hearth! I'll get some water to heat and some blankets. Saeryn, can you help, please?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Oh... oh dear. Saeryn thought, for a moment afraid. Her lapse of calm retreated as quickly as Bethberry's request had come.

"I shall get the water, Bethberry." Saeryn ran to the kitchen.

"Please," she asked Aedre, whom she met in the doorway. "I need warm water and some soft clothes, as well as a warm blanket. Wait...," she stopped the maid. "Just the water and cloth... bring it to Bethberry quickly."

Turning quickly on her heel, Saeryn sprinted to her room. This, she thought, is why every woman needs a sturdy pair of breeches. Picture me trying to run this in a gown!

Reaching her rooms, Saeryn pushed open the door. Grabbing the quilts from her own bed, as well as her own worn, but warm, cloak, the young woman returned quickly to her companions.

Handing the pile of blankets to Falco, Saeryn turned to Bethberry. "What else can I do?"

[Bêthberry]

Upon Saeryn's request for a story, Bethberry had become lost in reminiscence, thinking of the little lost soul who had earnestly planted apple pips in the east garden. Who had once knocked at The White Horse's door late, late one night. Madi had been his name. Madi Codex. Her hand went to the amber ball he had given her, which she kept in her pocket. She could still hear his impatient thudding at the door now...

Until Ruthwen shook her out of her waking dream. They were all ascurry now, briinging warm water and warm blankets to the aid of this other lost soul.

"Eodwine, my thanks, for bringing her in. And to you Falco also." A voice of solemn timbre acknowledged their help even though Bethberry's eyes were on the young woman.

"For now, Saeryn, I ask that you help Frodides in the kitchen to prepare some warm broth. And ask Aedre to light a fire, a strong fire, in the small guest room beside the kitchen. It will prove doubly warm for her when we are able to move her. If you will take accept my taking up your offer of help."

Saeryn nodded with relief that there was yet more she could do.

"The floor is cold. Eodwine, Falco, Ruthven, help drag a long table here, upon which she can lay." With only a minimal amount of confusion and some correction of direction no doubt due to the third tankard that had been imbibed, the three brought forth a table, upon which the blankets and Saeryn's cloak were laid and wrapped lightly around the young lass.

The Healer looked over her bruised and battered body. The cuts and scrapes would need washing and the blanched feet and fingers light swaddling. It would not do to wrap them too tightly, for circulation must be brought back to them. Over the swaddlings the old woman Ruthven chafted the cold feet gently with her boney, crooked hands, her fingers shaking but slightly with a tremour of age. The heroes of the moment, Eodwine and Falco, each took a small hand and held it to bring back colour and warmth. Bethberry turned to address the lass.

"Is your stomach ailing? Any pains there? I cannot give you broth if you are hurt inside. "

A wan face turned away from the fire towards the Innkeeper. The bedraggled head weakly shook an answer of "No."

"Then let us warm you here first, and feed you, and I shall attend to your hurts once we can see the blood colour your cheeks again, from the inside where it belongs."

"There's a story here," whispered Falco, but loudly enough for all to hear. Eodwine raised his eyes impatiently at the halfling.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine raised his eyes impatiently at the halfling. The girl coughed in racking gasps. Ruthven wiped the tears and dirt from the girl's face, then looked closely at the cut on her lip.

"Did someone strike you, child?" Ruthven asked. The girl did not reply, but fresh tears leaked from her eyes and fell into her ears.

And worse, Eodwine thought. Blood had streaked down her legs, poorly veiled by her tattered skirt. Eodwine tasted bile at the back of his throat. He tapped Falco on the shoulder and motioned him to the far corner of the common room. Falco looked up into his serious face expectantly.

"Some dastard has done grievous ill to the girl," Eodwine growled.

"Aye," said Falco, squinting, his mouth working. "What think you?"

"To avenge her."

Falco nodded, as if he had known precisely what was in Eodwine's mind. "First we must know if she can speak-" Eodwine remembered seeing that she had a tongue when she coughed. "-and if she can, will she speak of that?"

"We shall persuade her with kindness," Eodwine said resolutely.

"And if that fails us?"

"We must make sure that it does not." He held Falco's eyes as he walked around him and returned to the table on which the girl lay.

Falco watched Eodwine. He had seen the Rohirric man like this once before, far in the north of the hills of Evendim. A fire was in his eyes. "I could do for a smoke about now," Falco mumbled to himself, and reached into his vest pocket for his pipe and weed as he returned to their new vigil.

[Esgallhugwen]

"No stop, please" Gudryn begged tugging on the man's sleeve, he spun striking her in the jaw a studded ring on his finger cutting her lip. "It's so difficult disciplining a stubborn child, your worse then that god awful horse" he turned to pick up an oaken staff smiling grimly as he struck her again and again.

She dared not call out least he hit her harder, she swallowed her sobs and her eyes welled up with hot tears. She had had enough, enough of the beatings because she was proud and kind, but now her mind was broken and her body sore.

Gudryn wondered if she would die on the floor under this heathen.

Her eyes lazily opened to the sight of a fire blazing in the hearth, everything seemed so pure when you thought you were going to die, even the bone eating cold had a calm to it. Her brown eyes were caught in the light of the fire reflecting the golden hue.

Voices drifted around her and silhouetted bodies stood by her bringing the warmth to her chilled limbs. Then one of the voices spoke directly to her driving her attention away from the fire.

"Is your stomach ailing? Any pains there? I cannot give you broth if you are hurt inside. "

She closed her eyes for awhile trying to sum up the strength to shake her head. She kept thinking no, no ,no but her head wouldn't move, finally she managed weakly to turn her head side to side.

The young woman was hungry and couldn't remember the last time she had eaten, but broth would do for now least solid food cause her to be sick.

"Then let us warm you here first, and feed you, and I shall attend to your hurts once we can see the blood colour your cheeks again, from the inside where it belongs."

She smiled weakly because she could not nod her head, someone whispered loudly, her heart was pounding in her ears and she couldn't hear him, but one of the others, a tall man, raised his eyes impatiently towards the voice.

A fit of coughing escaped from the girl leaving her gasping for air. A kind faced woman looked down on the girl wiping her face clean of dirt and tears, her face came closer and looked at her lip.

"Did someone strike you, child?" the woman asked. Gudryn did not reply, but fresh tears leaked from her eyes and fell into her ears. She turned her face back towards the warm fire.

Her knees began to throb and the pebbles that were still stuck in her skin twinged her nerves sharply. She clenched her teeth and concentrated on the fire dancing on the logs, she loved the way it twirled around the wood, licking the stone and crackling gently.

Two of the figures returned to her side, the shorter one which she could not see very well lit up a pipe telling his whereabouts. She closed her eyes again and tried to breath smoothly and evenly.

A soft scent wafted to her nostrils, she groaned slightly as they helped her sit up on the table. The broth had arrived and Gudryn couldn't help but lick her chapped lips.

"Drink it slowly now, it is hot and we wouldn't want you to choke", she took the bowl and sipped it, the broth stopped her chills and warmed her belly. She coughed up a little dribble then wiped it away.

"Thank you" she said sleepily setting the bowl in her lap.

[littlemanpoet]

"Thank you," the girl murmured just as Eodwine returned to her makeshift bedside.

Ruthven took the bowl from the girl's lap. "This belongs down her throat, not staining her shift," she said sideways to Eodwine.

"What think you?" Eodwine asked her.

"'Tis hard to know much. She has been beaten, that is sure. And she has either been left to starve in some cold, cold empty roofless hovel, or she has been wandering with no help for a few days."

"Good then that she strayed by this inn's front door," Eodwine said.

"Aye."

"Do you have her name?"

"Nay."

Eodwine took a step closer. The girl might be sleeping, but he had to try. "Maiden? Do you sleep?" Her eyes fluttered open but stared at the raftered ceiling. "I am Eodwine. What is your name?" She looked at him then, and he looked upon her as kindly as he knew how. "You are safe now. We shall not let any dastard harm you again. What are you called?"

[Esgallhugwen]

"I cannot stay"

"Of course not dear, he is a cruel ruffian, you should leave before he makes it so that you cannot anymore"

She looked up at the woman who was said to be very old. She did not look it, her skin still had the glow of youth and her hair though pure snowy white glowed gold in the sunrise.

Gudryn remembered her braiding a wreath of blue and white flowers, the green steams so intricately and tightly woven by the skilled hands of this elder.

She loved this woman as a child would a parent, so gentle yet so wise with her years. A good friend to have at any time, good or bad.

"Where have you been?" the heartless voice inquired, her reply was an innocent, "nowhere". He seemed to ignore her answer, "you were with that witch again weren't you?" he spat.

She prepared herself for what would come now.

"Maiden? Do you sleep?" Gudryn's eyes fluttered open but stared at the raftered ceiling. "I am Eodwine. What is your name?" She looked at him then, and he looked upon her as kindly as he knew how. "You are safe now. We shall not let any dastard harm you again. What are you called?"

As she looked at him her lips trembled, "Gudryn, m'Lord, I am called Gudryn".
She looked around in puzzlement and fear still half in the nightmare but she could see Eodwine clearly.

"M' Lord?" she asked as he smiled down upon her, "will you truly keep me safe? I fear he will go looking for me to get revenge for my fleeing", she clutched at the quilt around her, trying vainly to find some comfort within it.

Eodwine's hand reached out to comfort her but she flinched and recoiled from the gesture with a whimper. "You are safe here", he reassured her before she allowed him to take her hand.

She squeezed his hand as hard as her strength could allow, wiping her face of tears in the warm blanket. "I hope so, I'm afraid" she sobbed.

[littlemanpoet]

"You are safe here."

"I hope so. "I'm afraid!" The girl called Gudryn sobbed and squeezed Eodwine's hand with all the strength she could, but her grip was to him frail as a maple leaf clinging to its branch in November. Gudryn. 'Twas a good Rohirric name. No maiden of the Rohirrim should be treated so.

"Fear not," he answered. "I am a messenger of King Éomer himself. I followed him into battle in the War and survived. Doubt not that I can keep some besotted cur from harming you." She looked up at him gratefully. Trust was in her eyes. Good.

"Whoever this rascal is," said Falco through his pipe, "he's beyond the law if we was in the Shire."

"'Tis so here as well, my friend," Eodwine said, watching the girl, "'tis so here as well." For a long time Gudryn held his hand tightly, and he stood there calm and sure, despite the growing pain in his back form his slouch. At last she fell asleep and her grip loosened. Eodwine slid his hand from hers and pulled himself straight up, stretching.

"'Tis time to get the girl to a proper bed," said Ruthven.

Eodwine lifted her, her sleep undisturbed, and brought her to the room Bethberry had prepared. When they had laid her to rest, Eodwine suggested that they all share a watch, for they knew not who the ruffian was, and he might come for the girl in the night if he learned where she was.

"Who will split the night's watch with me?" Eodwine asked.

"Don't think you're going to take all the heroism to youself, Master Eodwine," Falco said, puffing on his pipe, "not while I'm here to show you up!"

"Very well! We shall split the watch in two unless any others wish to join our vigil."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"I shall help, if no-one minds." added Saeryn softly. I cannot let this girl remain afraid... not the way I was for so very long...

"You are more than welcome, m'lady."

"In that case, good sirs, if you will excuse me for a moment?" Without waiting for an answer, Saeryn turned on her heel and disappeared into her own room. Seeing her belongings where she left them, her saddlebags yet unpacked, she lifted them to the bed. Opening a pocket, Saeryn removed a pair of knives, razor-sharp and ebony hilted. She strapped them to her ankles, pulling her boots over them. Turning to her pile of soiled clothing, Saeryn set aside her old tunic and strapped the short sword beneath it to her belt.

She returned to the girl's room, not meeting the mens' eyes. Loosening her sword, Saeryn stationed herself by the door looked up at Eodwine. His face revealed his wonder... could this wisp of a girl truly wield this blade? She smiled, her teeth flashing in a humorless grin. He doubted no longer.

"Just in case, Master Eodwine. Just in case."

[littlemanpoet]

"Indeed, lady Saeryn, indeed." He smiled and nodded approvingly, standing in the doorway. "You will take first watch then."

Faldo was puffing at his pipe at Eodwine's side. "She puts me in mind of Lumiel and Eswen; and Lyra, may her soul rest in peace."

"Who are they?" asked Saeryn. "Or were they?"

"Elven swordmaidens who guarded our backs in the hills of Evendim," Falco replied as his smoke rings grew, floating into Gudryn's room.

"Their prowess was great," Eodwine said. "Lyra was not least among them, but perished in the attack on the fiend's fortress. She is greatly missed."

"I would have liked to know her," Saeryn said.

"You may meet the other two. Who can say?" Eodwine turned to Falco. "What is the time?"

"I have it at midnight. Seems we'd do best to split the night into three hours apiece. And since I hold my ale better'n you, Master Eodwine, let's have it that the Lady wakes me up and I wake you, eh?"

"Hah! Hold your ale better than I? You keep yourself so soaked, you never dry out!"

"Nonsense! Lady, I shall sleep nearest the door so all you need do is knock, and I'll come running."

[Bêthberry]

Having arranged certain events and made notifications, the Innkeeper arrived at the doorway, not without some coughing and sputtering herself at all the smoke the two brave lads had been producing. Ruthven was at her side.

"Gentlemen and heroes," Bethberry began, " I thank you for your help in carrying the unfortunate lass to this room, but now I will ask that as gentlemen you take your leave from the lady's chamber. She will be watched by womenfolk, by Saeryn here, Ruthven, and myself. "

Falco took umbrage at this remark, the moreso perhaps because of the drink he had imbibed. "I am a halfling of the finest fibre. I mean to do justice to honour and..."

His words were interrupted by Eodwine, himself not too steady on his feet, as his back was still aching from holding his crouch over the girl's makeshift bed as she fell asleep. It had not been a particularly commodious position for his stomach, either, and he several times felt the need to take deep swallows of breath in order to steady that organ. Yet his heart and tongue needed no steadying.

"We know what fibre you have in you. It was a right fine meal you ate. But this calls for a guard of stamina and strength, not one who can offer but half-measures."

"Why, you old sot you!" retaliated the hobbit. "As if a messanger has the fighting skills of a warrior! It takes a bit more to carry a sword than a letter, and much more than to carry your ale."

So quarrelsome were the two becoming that unnoticed their pipeweed went out and the air cleared.

"You shall wake the lass at this rate, if you keep it up," intoned the Innkeeper. "Gentlemen, the White Horse Inn is locked and bolted and guarded by means which many have heard not of. I ask you to take to your rooms, and get a good night's sleep. We will have need of your wit and skill and adventurous spirits on the morrow, but for now let women do their work." She looked sternly at the two as if she would brook no argument.

"Saeryn," said Bethberry, turning to the young woman, if you would take the first watch, and Ruthven here will sleep on a side cot. You can wake her to take the later shift."

"Do that, lass, and trust to me," replied the old woman. "I know when to call for your help should it be needed. I promise to wake you from your cot at the first sign we might need your sword."

The three woman formed a formidable presence, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of Eodwine and Falco, who were beginning to see doubly if not triply the merit in Bethberry's words. They bowed courteously and withdrew.

Bethberry turned to the women. "The falcon Wyrd will be perched aloft. At any sign of unruly approach he will come to you and to me, to warn. Other measures are afoot as well. Trust to us."

"Aye, aye, I know your ways, Bethberry," lightly cajoled Ruthven. "We shall be fine unless those two lads decide to make such adventurous deeds as to announce the presence of the lass here."

"They mean well," spoke up Bethberry. "They are simply rather fond of adventures."

[Bêthberry]

OOC

Another round of Shire games successfully concluded means new Rohirrim. Writers of the Mark, please welcome to your ranks the following distingushed gamers.

With full status as Game Manager and Game Player, CaptainofDespair and Regin Hardhammer. Very fine and nimble work managing your games and the players! Well done both of you.

And our newest Rohirrim, new to the saddle but who should settle in admirably: Game Players Boromir88 and Lalwendë.

I invite the four of you to join us at The White Horse for a pint to two in celebration.

Bêthberry
Moderator for Rohan

[Esgallhugwen]

The grass tickled her toes as she sat in the shade of a large tree. Gudryn tried not to fall asleep case the fox came to nibble her toes, this fox was rather fearless when it came to Gudryn and rather nosy too.

And this day it came right up to her swishing his pompous tail around like he were a king. He sat on his haunces and looked at her expectantly.

"You're becoming quite the smart little thing aren't you?" she asked tossing him half a sugar cookie, "too bad I cannot teach you any tricks, you see I will be leaving soon, far away from that place over yonder" she pointed to a hut with black smoke billowing out of the chimmney.

"I pray he doesn't catch me before I leave", she turned to the little fox and smiled, "not to worry, I've told the elder Lady all about you, she won't miss a day giving you your cookie".

She patted the fox on the head, "I have things to do before I go", she stood up and walked briskly down the hill towards the ruffians stable. With one swift motion she opened the door and sent the horses flying out to there freedom.

With all the commotion Gudryn was able to sneak back inside and into her room.

"Tonight is the night" she mumbled in her sleep curling tighter into her blankets.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Tonight is the night" the girl murmered. Saeryn sank further into herself, concentrating on everything and nothing, all to once. The girl shifted on the bed, pulling her blankets closer. A board creaked in the hall. Supremely unconcerned, Saeryn nevertheless drew a dagger and quietly woke Ruthven.

"There is someone outside the door, madam, and I hear a faint hawk call from afar. I do not know if this is important, but I thought it best to wake you."

Leaving Ruthven to attend to matters, Saeryn knelt beside the sleeping girl. Poor thing, she thought. When Eodwine and Falco go to avenge this, I hope they will allow me a part in the adventure.

[littlemanpoet]

The messenger of Rohirrim was sprawled over the bed, having passed out before he could get under the covers.

The second bed was too big for hobbits, and Falco had decided on the cushioned seat next the wall instead. It was the size of a couch in his ma's hole back in Waymoot. He was now snoring loudly and dreaming of a crow smoking a pipe, blowing smoke birds that flapped their wings before they were blown athither by the breeze. The crow looked at him and said caw!

Falco opened his eyes. Master Eodwine was snoring as loud as any crow. No wonder. He turned on his side and was soon asleep again.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama rode his horse slowly up the path to the White Horse...so many memories of this place, so many good, so many bad...he remembered many years ago meeting Sandrina Lightheart here, and as her sworn protector destroying her older brothers. He sighed, he took no great joy from killing other humans, even enemies...they had families, doubtless, and many tears would be shed over them. Hama had no such family now, he knew, he had lost them years ago while he was off fighting at Pelennor. They were gone now, commited to the earth and dust. The closest thing he had to family was Adu, and she was a few hours behind him. He mused about Crystal. She was beautiful, yes, intelligent, yes, the sort of woman that a man would dream of, but no...Hama could never...it wouldn't work...

Tethering his horse to the pole outside he walked into the inn, slowly pushing the doors aside. Water dripped from his hair, forming a small pool at his feet. Heads turned, they saw the General's insignia and the Rohirrim there recognised him. Hama Haukrsonn, successor of the notorious Dorian Heart. He was known to be friendly, humane, and approachable, but nobody approached him...

Hama walked over to the counter and placed a gold coin on the table. "Ale," was all that he managed to say, and annoyingly it came out as a low growl rather than a pleasant request. He saw the children dancing, and a small lump came to his throat. Years ago they would have been his children, if only...he forced himself to stop thinking about it, but this caused a grimace to pass across his features. The barmaid set his ale on the counter and he took it, walking slowly to an empty table and sat, staring into his drink. He murmured under his breath in Rohirric, " They have passed, like rain on the mountains." Before raising the tankard to his lips and draining the entire pint. He let his hand fall forward, and the tankard clanged loudly as it collided with the table...

[Bêthberry]

"Eh, eh, what?" mumbled the old bag lady as Saeryn shook Ruthven awake. "There's a noise outside. Trouble I fear."

The old woman rolled over, her grey hair whisping over her eyes and her body protesting the movement. She had heard nothing, but then the ears of the young are more inclined to want to do things than the more sage ears of the elder. She sat up, took a deep breathe, and then tumbled out of the cot. Or would have had not the younger girl caught her.

yes, Ruthven could clearly hear the falcon now, but he was far away, not at the window. Still, it would not do to ignore matters. She pulled on her boots, wrapped a heavy shawl around her, and ventured out the door, with Saeryn bolting it behind her.

Her eyes accustomed to the dark, she saw that the hall was empty. Marching to the door of the proud heroes of this adventure, she listened at it. Rhythmic snoring was all she heard, punctuated by one or two other bodily noises no doubt arising from the quantity of brew imbibed. Ruthven's attention was drawn away, however, by the sound of a scuffle outside. She turned and quickly made her way downstairs, to knock on Bethbery's door, and then to follow the sound.

Out the back door, beyond the kitchen she found Wyrd, his wings fluttering him up and down, as if he would beat a large, dark creature at the mound of compost. Ruthen jumped back, afraid of herself being attacked. She bumped in Bethberry, who had hurriedly risen to answer the knock upon the door. The older woman shrieked.

"It's just me," replied Bethberry.

"And it's just a bear, come for the garbage."

"When did the bears start coming down out oif the mountains into Edoras?" asked Ruthven.

"When their food was overhunted and depleted. People have ignored the warnings from the Golden Hall, but warnings do little to fill empty bellies."

Bethberry whistled lightly, and the falcon let off his attack upon the burly creature, who pawed and snorted her way through the pilings of vegetable peel and bone. Yet once she was satisfied, she rolled off, a large piece of some offal in her mouth, Towards the apple trees, she walked, where two darker shapes , little ones, awaited her.

Ruthven cackled with a mischievous grin. "She's left a trail. Come, let us rearrange it a bit, so we can give our heroes something to ferret out. "

Bethberry looked at her good friend. "You joker. What shall the two do if they discover your trickery?"

"Oh, we shall laugh. Over a pint," she grinned.

"Well, it is your tale. Set it up as you like, and let the two enjoy the sport." Checking that no other sound or creature, fell or fair, was around the Inn, Bethberry left Ruthven to her devices.

~~~

Rain woke the inhabitants of the Inn later that morning, once the sun rose.. Bethberry had seen that the fires were well stoked and the kitchen readied for a day of business when she saw the soldier arrive and order his ale. A strange drink for so early in the morn. That one might bear watching, she decided, despite his uniform.

"An empty belly in the morn needs more than ale, General," the Innkeeper said as she approched him. .


Meanwhile, Ruthven awoke and went to rouse the sleeping Eodwine and Falco. She had to knock several times at their door, louder and louder each time.

"Get off with ye," yelled a voice at her, not too terribly hospitable.

"A fine how-do-you-do is this," retorted the woman. "We've had strange visitors last night, the Inn was under attack, and now we have rough looking men sitting in the great hall drinking at this hour and you cannot rise to the situation."

"Eh, what's this? "called out Eodwin.

"There's tracks outside, as well as we can make out, from the rain. And gouges at the door of the back, near the kitchen. Someone tried to break in. Wyrd alerted us but you were lost in your sleep. Come out now, and see to the girl's protection."

Whereupon Ruthven retreated to the kitchen herself, to bring a tray up to the girl and Saeryn, for a private breakfast. It was a hearty breakfast she prepared, for the girl at least would be hungry and likely able now to take more food.

[littlemanpoet]

"There's tracks outside, as well as we can make out, from the rain. And gouges at the door of the back, near the kitchen. Someone tried to break in. Wyrd alerted us but you were lost in your sleep. Come out now, and see to the girl's protection."

Eodwine balanced himself, still sitting, on the side of his bed, the covers a mess beneath him. "Ow. That woman could talk loud enough to wake the dead."

"Quiet down, you noisy Rohirrim." Falco fiddled in his pockets for his pipe and Southfarthing.

"Let's see to the girl's protection then."

"Before breakfast? It ain't right."

"No grumbling now. We slept through the watches and noises." Eodwine forced himself to his feet, trying hard to keep his feet beneath him, not to mention his stomach from heaving. He moaned as he stumbled to the door.

"And a ruffian of some sort in the Common Room, no less."

"Ow. 'Tis too early for ruffians." Eodwine opened the door.

"They don't know a good time from a bad time, nor good from bad for that matter," Falco mused. "Well, it's good times in the Shire since we were rid of 'em, and that's saying something!"

"Keep it down!" Eodwine held his hands over his ears as he passed through the door and went down the hallway. "Where is everybody?"

"Surely enough that old lady Ruthven called for us, there's no mistaking that one's grating wheeze."

"Careful now, one mustn't speak uncharitably of the elderly."

"Oh, I don't mean nowise by it, just it's too early to be all business. Before breakfast even! Watch it, that ruffian's bound to be around the corner."

Eodwine peered around the doorpost. His eyes went wide. "That's no ruffian!" He started into the room. "Hama! You old battler! What brings you here? How long has it been?"

"Hama?" Falco said to himself. "The name makes me hungry. I could do with some ham and eggs."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn looked up from her tailor's seat on the floor by the bed when the heavy door swung open. Her sword lay unsheathed across her knees. Ruthven and Bethberry entered, the old woman with a tray of food and Bethberry with an admonishing look.

"My dear lady Saeryn, you will please tell me you were not awake all night! And you only just arrived yourself, and still exhausted from the trip. Off to bed with you before I encourage our heros out in the Great Hall to convince you."

Fixing her face stubbornly, Saeryn rose to her feat with an effort. "I'll have you know, Madam Innkeeper, that I am just-- I am just--" Saeryn yawned widely. "I am perfectly fine and awake."

With a cackle, the old woman spoke to her companion. "I told you, Bethberry. She's too much spirit to let someone else work when she can save them from the horrible torment of sharing labour." Ruthven winked at Saeryn, who utterly missed the sarcasm, and left the room.

------------

"Entirely too long, Eodwine, old friend. Let us sit and eat. Your half-sized friend has put me in longing of a hearty breakfast."

"Half-sized! Why I beg your--" Falco sputtered. "In the Shire I am known to be uncommonly tall, I thank you very much."

"Pity... have pity for the brutal headache last night's story telling has left me with, friends."

Ruthven interrupted with a stamp of her foot. "Gentlemen, whilst you chinwag, we've an innocent girl in the other room in need of your assistance."

"She's awake! Perhaps she--"

"Awake indeed, you old fool, the poor girl's been up all night whilst you shirked your duties for the excuse of too much ale."

"I--"

"You can fix it now by helping us get the lady Saeryn to bed. And her only just come from a journey herself..."

----------------

Saeryn turned toward the door once again when it opened, this time admitting Ruthven and three men. He looks familiar thought Saeryn sleepily. Her feet were near to giving out beneath her.

[Esgallhugwen]

Gudryn's eyes opened lazily with her grumbling stomach, a shrill panic ran down her back.

Where am I?

She lied perfectly still under her blankets trying to gain her bearings. Blinking the tears out of her eyes she looked around the room.

She couldn't recognise a thing, and it was strangely comforting to her. Her memories drifted back and she smiled poking her head out from under the quilt.

A few familiar voices were talking, followed by the sound of shuffling feet out of the door as she opened her brown eyes fully. More footsteps. She sat up in bed and saw an elderly woman with a tray in her hands.

Gudryn's stomach growled incessantly, she could smell food and it smelled very tasty, too tasty even for the word tasty. The elder seemed kindly but more weathered then the one she had known, before she left the ruffian.

She rubbed the sleep and tears from her eyes when she was greeted by the warm friendly face.

"Hello dear, care for some breakfast?"

"Why, yes I do", was her reply and she took the tray in her lap gladly, for a time forgetting how sore and stiff her body was. She began to shovel the food into her mouth with no sign of stopping.

"Careful now, we wouldn't want your stomach to turn all that good food back up now would we?

She shook her head and began to eat more slowly. Most of the people walked out and left Gudryn to her breakfast.

Gudryn was nearly done when three men walked in with the older lady, one of them looked like a child at first glance. She took a second look and he gave her a wink.

Her lips quirked into a smile, she wondered who the other man was, he looked rough around the edges.

[littlemanpoet]

"Awake indeed, you old fool," said Ruthven, "the poor girl's been up all night whilst you shirked your duties for the excuse of too much ale."

"I--" Hama stammered.

"You can fix it now by helping us get the lady Saeryn to bed. And her only just come from a journey herself..."

Ruthven turned on her heels, expecting immediate obedience. Hama, Eodwine, and Falco exchanged glances, and followed.

Eodwine said out of the side of his mouth, "The women of Edoras, crone, lady, and lass, are an unruly lot, are they not?" Hama cracked a smile.

Ruthven spun. "I heard that! Unruly, you say? And exactly who'd take ruling from the likes of you, pray tell?" She fixed Eodwine with a menacing glare.

Eodwine put his hands up in a gesture of warding ... a blow ... and said, "Did I say that aloud? Forgive me! I thought the words had not passed my lips!"

Hama guffawed. Eodwine fixed him with a betrayed look.

"Enough out of you," Ruthven scolded. "You're lucky I don't take you by the ear and make you swab the kitchen floor! Now follow meek."

Falco took up the rear, puffing on his pipe, quite glad to be hidden from sight by the two big lummoxes.

They came to Gudyrn's room. Eodwine and Hama would have had abject hat in hand had they hats. Falco moved around them. The girl stared at him a moment. He gave her a wink and a smile around the pipe in his lips. She smiled back and her eyes drifted to the man called Hama.

[littlemanpoet]

"How did you sleep, Miss Gudryn?" asked Eodwine. The lass looked at him briefly, then turned her staring attention back to Hama, who seemed every bit the slap-handed schoolboy under Ruthven's severe tutelage.

"Shush now," Ruthven scolded. "Let the poor girl eat."

Eodwine looked balefully at the old woman ... after she had taken her eyes off him and was watching the girl.

Falco chuckled and took his pipe out of his mouth. "It was you, Mizzuz Ruthven, as ordered us in here. What for if not to talk to the girl?"

"Don't you sass at me, you ... "

"You what? . . . Mizzuz?" Falco threw back at her, giving a wink to Saeryn, who sat on the far side of Gudryn's bed, nibbling on the last bites of her breakfast. It made Falco all the hungrier and irascible, not having had his first yet.

Ruthven had been about to say something about runts, but thought better of it when the hobbit's brow started to get thunderous. She knew Men well enough, but her edeecation on Hobbits was a might bit sketchy. Best to turn the manners just a bit to tweed with 'im.

"I was saying don't you sass at me, for I brought you in here so you could see the lass was well. And now 'tis time you saw after the prowlers last night."

Falco closed one eye and watched her suspiciously.

Eodwine spoke up. "The lady did speak of strange visitors last night."

"Ah yes," puffed Falco. "The Inn under attack."

"Tracks outside," Eodwine continued.

"Gouges at the door of the back ... where?" Falco looked questioningly to Ruthven.

"Near the kitchen, I told you," said Ruthven. "Someone tried to break in."

"Very well," said Eodwine. "Let us have a look at all these signs, the sooner accomplished, we can break our fast."

"And show Lady Saeryn to her bed while you're at it! She's been up all night, unlike you lalligags, and needs some rest."

Falco eyed Ruthven for having it both ways, as it were, but with a puff of his pipe, let it go. He turned to Saeryn. "Lady?" Saeryn got up without a word and took up the rear behind Falco and Hama, who followed Eodwine's long striding heels down the hall.

Ruthven's last imprication followed them down the hall. "Men! Always thinkin' on their stomachs!"

Falco wondered briefly about the giggling laughs that had followed the imprication, but thought no more of it. Best get this little bit of shirriffing done so as to get to first breakfast the sooner. Musn't let second breakfast run into lunch! No, that would never do.

They stopped off at Saeryn's room and saw her in with a please and a thank you, and a goodnight-even-though-it's-morning, and continued on their way.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Peering down the hall, Saeryn padded quickly but silently to the kitchen. Leave me out of the action she thought... Not bleedin' likely. The men-folk had come into the girl's room and without a yay or nay, escorted Saeryn, please and thank you, to her room where she was to "Sleep herself out, there's a lass, and have no worry over the girl." The men-folk would take care of it all. Well not if I have anything to say of it. See them have an adventure without me!

Begging a hot drink off a sleepy maid, Saeryn splashed her face with cold water, shivering excitedly as she returned to full consciousness. Retreating to her room, Saeryn changed into battle-friendly clothes. It would not do to ruin my best breeches, or to risk tearing this tunic. She pulled a pair of brown leggings from her bags and matched it with a thigh-length tunic of moss green. A light leather vest covered her, and her belt she slung across her hips, hooking her sword and dagger to it. Saeryn left her boots off. No good to draw unwanted attention... "Now miss, it's back to bed with you" without a word of "Can you help?". Well I certainly can.

Unfastening her hair tie, Saeryn pulled her braid loose with her fingers, tightly rebraiding and coiling her auburn locks. A few tendrils framed her face, unwilling to stay back. Even tired, Saeryn was beautiful. She slid the door open a bit, glancing down the hall. The men had nearly reached the end.

Quietly, Saeryn followed, boots in hand, her stockinged feet making no more noise then the smallest of cats. As the men walked through the doorway, Hama glanced behind. Saeryn swore as his hand lightly tapped Eodwine's shoulder.

"Miss, you should--"

Gesturing hurriedly for silence, Saeryn ran to the group. "Please sirs, if Bethberry and Ruthven knew I was up they would fuss so."

"Yes m'lady Saeryn, and for good reason. Ye should be resting."

I'll give you a rest. she thought impatiently. "M'lord Eodwine, you do not understand. With your permission or without, I am going to follow you. I'd much prefer your blessing, but I do not need it. I will not be cosseted like a small child. I am coming." Seeing her resolve, Eodwine gave in. Falco, about to speak, was silenced by a hand on the shoulder and an almost imperceptible head shake by Hama. Saeryn smiled her gratitude as the company turned and continued on its mission. Falco and Eodwine leading, Saeryn fell behind with Hama. She looked up at him.

"You were not in the Hall last night, nor did anyone make mention of you." she commented softly. "You are a friend, I presume, or Eodwine would not have you privy to these happenings, but... who are you?"

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama raised an eyebrow, this was what happened when you didn't hang around after you got made a general. He murmered softly into Saeryn's ear,

"Miss, Eodwine and I fought many battles together. We both fought at Helm's Deep, both fought at Pelennor Fields and both at the Black Gate itself. It's a wonder we're both still alive. After the war, I came home with Eodwine, to find that both our families had been burnt and destroyed by the dunlendings in our absence. I lost a mother, a father, a wife, two sons and a daughter. I fled, in grief, to the Shire, where I met the daughter of general Dorian Heart, we soon received news of Dorian Hearts death, and I rode back here to Edoras. Eomer bestowed upon me Dorian's place as general of the West Fold, and you don't know who I am?"

Saeryn blushed, she was amazed that he could talk about his family's deaths so dispassionately, but she assumed that it was simply Rohan stoicism.

"I...didn't know..." she managed to say quietly,

"I know, lass." Said Hama, patting her shoulder gently...

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

The general patted Saeryn's shoulder gently, almost condescendingly. She looked up at him. He'd lost his family in a worse way than Saeryn had. How brave he had been, fighting to protect his family, only to return with them lost. My own family is simply... strewn.

"I am so sorry, m'lord. Had I known--" she whispered.

"But you didn't, and so you need beg no pardon." Hama's hand found her's and squeezed it gently, releasing quickly. "No harm, no foul, m'dear."

"Aha!" cried Falco. "The ruffians have been here!" They had reached the doors. About the handles were rough scratches, as though gouged with a dagger. The earth before the doors was pounded flat.

[peral]

Her footfalls were light and were barely heard, even in the relatively empty Common Room. It was still early she considered, probably why there weren't many people sitting at the tables eating. It was rare that she found an opportunity to come to the inn and have a breakfast alone with her thoughts. With an ailing father who was unable to do most things for herself, most people would call her thoughtless and uncaring to leave him so she could pamper herself with a breakfast that she hadn't cooked for herself. However, he had assured her that he had been feeling find that morning and that she should go out and treat herself to an already cooked meal. She had had her doubts and misgivings about leaving him alone, but the prospect of an hour or two of freedom was too tempting and beautiful for her to have turned down. So, now here she was, in the White Horse Inn for the first time in about half a year.

As she sat down she called for some ham and eggs. It was unbelievable to her that someone actually heard her, for she was usually very soft-spoken and hated to raise her voice even to call for some much-needed sustenance. When the breakfast was finally set down before her, she dug into it with such enthusiasm and vigour that even the two huge men sitting beside her - who had ignored her until then - stared at her with great amazement and slight bewilderment. However, the food was so delicious to her lips that even the stares didn't stop her from digging into the breakfast and eating it with relish. But even as she leant over her food, the necklace around her neck slipped out from underneath her dress. On the sparkling blue surface of the pendant was engraved a name in the most stunning silver - Ayeth.

[littlemanpoet]

"Ayeth? Is that your name, lass?" asked one of the two big men at the girl's table. "What be you a doing out alone?"

The girl chewed and swallowed her mouthful before answering in a quiet voice. "My pa bade me go and break my fast with a meal cooked by other hands."

"Ah, is that the way of it?" Said the second one. "And who's your pa?"

"I am sorry, sirs," she said meekly, "but may I know your names?"

"Harreld, you lout," said the first man. "You don't go asking about others' folks before you give your own name."

"I haven't heard you give yours yet, Garreth!"

Garreth turned to the girl. "Well, there you have it, lass. I am called Garreth, and this here is Harreld. We are brothers and we are smiths here in town. Perhaps you've heard of us?" Ayeth shook her head, and noticed for the first time that they were a rather burnished pair of men. "No? Ah well, no matter. So who's your pa?"

[peral]

"So who's your pa?"

Ayeth had been startled by that question. Not many people asked that, did they? Or was it just that she was unused to social interaction especially with men?

"Hlothere Hwaindere, but he is old now although in his youth he used to be part of King Éomer's éored. He was a great fighter, until that day on the Pelennor Fields," here she looked up into the faces of the two men. "He fell and was among the ones gathered and thought to be dead. It was lucky that someone actually realised that his heart was still beating." She could feel a familiar wetness forming in her eyes. "I was lucky that he was found. My mother died in childbirth, he was all I had remaining."

She looked down at the table having completely lost her appetite in these reminiscences. She hated herself for having no control over her emotions. This was years ago yet she still felt the pain and fear of almost having lost a father. She hoped she wouldn't lose all composure and break down in front of these two men and tried to prevent this from happening by suddenly becoming completely engrossed in pushing the food still on her plate into a little heap in the centre.

[littlemanpoet]

The twins, Harreld and Garreth, glanced at each other with softening eyes, and raised blonde eyebrows at each other. Burly they were, but kindly. Thirty-five years together had made it so they knew each other's minds before a word passed their lips.

"There there, lassie," said Garreth, the more quick to speech. "The two of us were at Pelennor too, but with Théoden's eored, may he sleep in peace. Many a good man was lost that day, and many lost a leg or an eye. 'Tis the weregild of those who live on with all their parts in place to see to the wellbeing of those not so lucky."

"Aye," Harreld said, "'tis no bad thing to mourn those we've lost."

"Ayeth!" Garreth put in, "Why that is a pretty name." He pushed her plate back closer to her again. "How did you come by it?"

"But don't let us keep you from breaking your fast!" Harreld said. "We can wait."

[Nurumaiel]

"Now," said Frodides, observing the rather dirty tabletops, the empty shelves wherein should have sat clean plates, and the dusty and mussy floor. Baby Drihten was crawling across that floor, his cheeks flushed and his eyes bright, pursuing a spider eagerly. Mereflod and Motan were tying bunches of flowers together with long stems of grass. Deman and Fierlan were sitting with their arms about each other and quarreling. Middaeg and Beorht, the second pair of twins, were exchanging the words they had just learned that day, delighting that they could speak. Giefu had his head against the wall and was looking dreamy, no doubt imagining great adventures with himself as the hero. Maercwen and Gomen were in earnest conversation about music. Frodides felt her heart swell up and quicken its beat with a fierce pain of pride and love.

"Maercwen, Gomen," she said, "will you help me get the children out of the kitchen?" So saying, she lifted Drihten from off the floor, where he was bitterly weeping because the spider had crept into a crack in the wall.

Maercwen and Gomen, never ceasing in their conversation, hustled their younger brothers and sisters away. They had all finished their breakfast, and Frodides didn't like to have the children in the kitchen just after a meal. She needed some space to sweep and scrub. She went to the kitchen door with them, and gave Leofan a parting kiss as he went out to work in the stables. Then she stood and watched as the group of children paraded through the Common Room, talking and laughing and, for Motan's part, singing.

"Oh," said Frodides, with a flush coming to her cheek, "I love my family."

[peral]

For some reason, the thought that she was talking to two others that had also been present that fateful day upon the Pelennor seemed to comfort Ayeth somewhat. To care for my father, she thought, that is what I'm here for, he needs me just as much as I need him.

"My name? Ah, twas my mother's last wish to have me named after her grandmother." Her fingers began playing with the necklace around her neck. "This was my great-grandmother's. My father could hardly refuse my mother that, so that is how I received my name." Her she paused, thinking, "I am proud of my name although it is hardly a common one for a girl of Rohan to have." She looked absent-mindedly down at her food once more. "What about you two?" She laughed, "Here I am telling you all these things and I barely know anything about you both. You can start with telling me who your parents are."

[littlemanpoet]

"Ho!" laughed Garreth. "You've some spice in you, eh?" Our pa's Ambleth of Edoras and our ma's his wife, to be sure, and her name's Hilde. They live at our home, you see, for we take care of them now. They're not so young anymore."

"Leastways they both have their legs under 'em," said Harreld.

"More's the pity, always gettin' underfoot in the shop, the old man!" said Garreth.

Harreld waved a reproachful finger at his brother. "Now don't go talking that way about those who brought you into the world."

Garreth grinned and winked. "Trying to look the better of us for the wee lass, are you?"

"Ho! You think I'm a-courting! Ha!" Harreld lifted his big mug of tea and drank deeply, hiding his reddening face.

Ayeth snickered behind her little hand.

"Courting, aye." But Garreth was shaking his head. "You would think we could find us some lasses as wanted to be rich as smith's wives, but somehow we drive 'em off. Maybe they think they're expected to marry the both of us! Ha! That would be too much of a good thing." He peered at Ayeth. "How old are you, lass?"

[Esgallhugwen]

Gudryn

Strange visitors last night?

The Inn under attack?

Tracks outside, gouges at the door of the Kitchen?

The pain in her limbs came back with a vengence, even old wounds and scars seemed to burn, depression and horror struck her in the face like a torch being forced into water.

She looked to the corner to keep her eyes from welling up again, her teeth clenched and unclenched, she drove her canines into the tip of her tongue only enough to concentrate on the sting.

His name came screeching back into her head.

Rand

If he had come he would crush them all. He was a large man, much larger then Eodwine was tall. With such a husky muscular build he would tower over the people who said they would protect her.

He was like a bear in human form and he would rend these people limb from limb in his rage, he had nearly killed Gudryn more then once. No, Rand didn't take kindly to his possesions being taken away, especially when they were given to someone else.

But she was no longer anyone's, not Rand's most of all. He of course would never see it that way once he caught a glimpse of Eodwine.

I must warn him!

She stood shakingly, her bruised knees throbbing, she picked a loosened pebble from her knee and sneering at it, started to make her way to the door.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

At the back door they had broken their group, their attentions wandering to those things that brought a memory in their wake. Remembering the iron shoes of orcs and the stamping feet of the Dunlendings, Hama and Eodwine focused on the trampled earth before the doors. Too many marks for a decent tracking... A bewildered Falco examined the door.

"Now these kinds of marks... what kind of slip-shod, half-trained, molly-coddled fools would carry a blade dulled enough to gouge like these?" asked the hobbit. P'raps t'was sharp at the first, but dulled with the scraping? he thought to himself.

Further away, Saeryn walked, half bent, examining the ground. Was that blood? She saw the end of something, half buried in the dirt. Removing her belt knife, Saeryn pulled the dirt away with the tip.

"What in the world?" she asked herself quietly. Hearing the question, Hama walked over, carefully sidestepping any tracks. He knelt beside her and pulled the thing from the gound.

"Well I..." he laughed aloud. "Come, Eodwine, we have found the culprit!"

Spinning on his heel, Eodwine half ran to the two. Falco turn and sauntered over. Saeryn began to giggle helplessly. Eodwine looked at the more or less crescent shape Hama held in his palm. With a glance for permission, Saeryn took the claw from him, showing the other two.

"Friends, your unwanted visitor was but a bear." Hama laughed. "P'raps two, but look towards the rubbish, and at the claw marks in the door. An attack indeed."

Eodwine's face paled before flushing. "That... that woman!" he cried. "Taking advantage of our good will to... to... to play a prank and make us look the fool. 'Tis like... 'tis as good as crying wolf and... why that old crone... an' before breakfast as well!"

"Ah Eodwine, we see where your heart lies. Come, let us eat and make merry. We've been played the fools and must now think of a suitable vengeance. I smelled a berry concoction on my way in... P'raps 'tis not too late." Leading his friend by the arm, Hama led the way to the Great Hall.

[Bêthberry]

Looking out the back window, but hidden behind the curtain, Ruthven watched the intrepid heroes search the tracks and marks on the door. She was able to stifle an outright guffaw, but her shoulders shook, and her sides, and her belly. She hadn't had sucha good laught in some time.

She observed that 'twas the lass Saeryn who solved the puzzle. "A sharp lass," she said to herself. One who will give Eodwine and Falco a good run for their shenanigans. But it was time to look occupied and otherwise very busy. It wouldn't do to be seen watching the hand play out. Ruthven withdrew to the Great Hall, where the morning's activities could be subjected to any number and manner of discussion.

Meanwhile, Bethberry had been quietly observing the other young lass, this one truly a young lass, timorously enter the Horse. She sat quietly, but gave away her nervousness by fingering a necklace whick was far too fancy to be shown in the likes of an Inn, however good that Inn's reputation might be. She walked over to the girl in time to overhear the twins, Garreth and Harreld. Harmless enough they were, yet perhaps the girl could use a steadying hand of the Innkeeper in keeping these two at bay?

'Now my fine lads, what's this to be asking a lady her age?"

"It is a perfectly innocent question, Innkeeper," retorted Harreld.

"Nay, it is not so," replied Bethberry.

"It was, it was!" seconded Garreth. "As Pa is our witness."

"Now don't be going to invoke your Pa as a witness, for his roving eye and merry cheeks were legend here in his day."

The young girl looked up at Bethberry, eyes wide, her hand dropping the necklace back to remain hidden int he folds of her shawl.

"Why, they were flirting with me!" she said.

"Well, there's flirting and then there's chatting. And then there's the proper decorum to a place like The White Horse, where a young girl can come to enjoy some company without being sounded out as if the very machinations of a matchmaker were involved."

The girl gasped. "Oh, they weren't!" she began.

"Nothing at all of the sort," sputtered Harreld.

'Not our doing," chimed in Garreth.

"I see," intoned Bethberry. "Well, let's let the lass enjoy her breakfast afore she needs to fend you two off."

"Breakfast," called out Ruthven. 'I'm hungry and I smell taters and 'shrooms and berry cakes on the grill. Must an old lady be up all night watching for villien and not be fed come the morrow?"

With those words the old bag lady slid into a seat beside the young lass "I've no qualms about telling my age. Shall you ask it, Harreld?" she said with a twinkle in her eye. Bethhberry merely laughed aloud and turned towards the commotion that was arising from the back. It appeared that Eowdwin and Falco were approaching, with Saeryn at their side.

"And who is minding our other lass," asked Bethberry. "We should be called the Inn of the Lost Lasses, I am thinking."

[littlemanpoet]

"Lasses lost or not, women, crones, you're all a great danger to an honest man!" cried Eodwine, but turned to Saeryn. "Present company excepted, of course!"

"And for how long?" Saeryn retorted, grinning.

"Ah me! And a lady up at Bywater in the Shire told me I have a silver tongue! I cannot win a point or a wager, let alone a free breakfast here in my home town's best inn!"

The four of them sat down at the table just over from Ruthven, Garreth, Harreld, and another young lass whose eyes seemed large with taking in all that was going on about her. "I am hungrier than ever and ready to race that old Ruthven to the bottom of my plate, and then some!"

"Aye!" put in Falco. "'Tis past time for first breakfast!"

"How is the young lass?" Hama asked.

"Why, there she is at the door!" Falco announced, his eyes wide.

[Esgallhugwen]

Gudyrn

She poked her auburn head out the door to check that the coast was clear. Gudryn was about to make her move when she heard a passerby mumbling about how the damage had been only a bear.

Only a bear?

A small amount of comfort went into her, oh thank The One!, but still she looked about to catch a glimpse of her rescuers, namely Eodwine and the small one. Gudryn had heard of his kind before, Hobytla, yes that had to be it, she had heard tales from the Lady Elder of how four of the little people had saved Middle-Earth.

Surely he couldn't be one of them?, Gudryn laughed to herself, what a naive thought she was older to know better. She shook her freckled face and looked in the opposite direction, the Inn was becomg busy and she didn't do well in a crowd.

"Why, there she is at the door!" Falco announced, his eyes wide.

She backed into the room and gave him a wide eyed look of fear, she tensed and began to shake. Eodwine yet again leaving behind a well deserved breakfast walked over to her with a reassuring smile.

"Come, Lady Gudryn. There's no need to fret, I'll walk you to the table if you like", Gudryn looked up at him. "I....there is something important that I must tell you".

He looked at her intently, "what is it lass?".

Her eyes watered up again, "Rand" she spoke in a hushed whisper as if saying it any louder would bring him forth through the door with his blood spattered staff. "What if he comes looking for me? I was horrified to hear of the intruder, how glad I was when it turned out to be only a bear".

He smiled at her, "whether bear or no I promised to protect you". She nodded, "then I will go with you to the table".

[peral]

Ayeth laughed. The two men in front of her were getting berated for something she was sure they weren't even thinking. And what was it any of her business whether they were flirting or not? She didn't even know what flirting was, the silly fool that she was. It was now plain to everyone around that she was innocent and somewhat naive and the thought of this made her blush.

"No, not at all, there's no problem. I'm 17, though small for my age." She smiled at the looks on Harreld and Garreth's faces.

She knew she was small and that many said that the lack of exercise and fresh air while she had tended her father had gone and stunted her growth. But she didn't mind being small, quite the contrary. All the women of Rohan seemed so strong-minded and iron-willed, she liked being different in a way. Surely there were men out there who wanted a wife who was dependent on them no matter what, instead of a woman that were always so independent. She hoped that that fact would play in her favour when it came time for her to wed. She shuddered inwardsly, marriage, it seemed such a curse to be born female and not be able to remain single and independent. But while she still tended her father, she was sure that she would remain unattached. She had seen women - both happy and sad - who were married. She hoped that when she was wed she would have a husband who loved her and cherished her for who she was.

She looked up and noticed that Harreld and Garreth were still gaping - most likely because of the shock of her revealing her age - and she giggled quietly to herself as she took another bite of her breakfast, the flavour suddenly returning to it and becoming delicious once more to her tongue.

[littlemanpoet]

The twins stared at the girl, Ayeth, in surprise.

Just then, the hobbit at the next table said, "Why there she is now!" All eyes turned to the door, and the taller of the two Rohirric men got up and went to the girl standing in doorway. She seemed to be quite scared, but the man reassured her and brought her to the table he shared with the others.

Garreth, as usual, found his tongue first.

"You're full grown then." She nodded pleasantly while she chewed her food with obvious relish. The two men looked meaningfully at each other, which did not go unnoticed by Bethberry.

"See there now? The two of you are sizing up this lass for marriage. Admit it, now!"

"Let's not be hasty, innkeeper," Garreth said. "There''s no harm in asking questions, so long as it's done proper like-"

"-and the answerer doesn't mind being asked," finished Harreld.

"You don't mind being asked, do you, miss?" Garreth said, leaning his head out so that Bethberry could have chopped him a good one like splitting wood if she wanted to. Apparently she was not of a mind to.

Ayeth swallowed a bite of food. "Oh, I don't mind. You two are nice."

Garreth sat back in his chair, grinning at Bethberry in triumph. "There, you see? We're nice."

"She likes us," Harreld added for good measure.

Garreth leaned over the table again. "You could use a little flesh on those wee bones of yours, miss, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Now that is quite enough," Bethberry announced. "Any more talk like that and I'll have you thrown out and your bills due."

The twins looked at Bethberry in sudden trepidation; those who overheard her dire warning could not be sure whether the two were more fearful of being thrown out or their bills due.

"We mean no harm, Missuz Bethberry, ma'am," Harreld said. "It's just that, well-"

"Harreld!" said Garreth. "Not another word."

Harreld waved Garreth off. "Ma'am," he said to Bethberry, "our home and smithy gets only darker with the passing years, you see, and our ma and pa are aging and we've not found ourselves any fair lassies willing to be taken home, if you take my meaning. So really, we're only asking."

"Aye, ma'am," chimed in Garreth. "There's no harm in asking. What does the lassie think?"

"Aye, miss Ayeth, what think you?" asked Harreld. The two men, one hobbit, and two young ladies at the next table couldn't help leaning over, harking to what the girl might say.

[peral]

Ayeth blushed at the sudden attention that she was receiving. And she was stunned by what the men in front of her were saying.

"You mean," she stuttered, "you're saying what I think you're saying?"

At the nods she became even more flustered and skittish. She was confused, afraid, angry and happy all at once. Confused at the implication, afraid of what would happen should she say yes, angry at their forwardness and yet happy that they took such an interest in her. Blushing even more and fidgeting she was barely able to look at Bêthberry in the eye.

"B-but, there are two of you," she managed to stammer out lamely.

This hadn't seemed to have struck the two brothers as they suddenly seemed to notice each other for the first time.

"Why, so there are..." mused Garreth.

Ayeth was pleased with herself for having avoided the question for a little while. At least, until Harreld and Garreth got past this slight problem.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Come Miss Gudryn, a bit of tea will make the world seem less wrong." Saeryn pressed the cup into the girls weak hands, looking into her eyes.

"Aye, and some to-mah-toes, sausages, and a bit of nice bacon is always the cure back in the Shire," interjected Falco.

"Quiet wee one, and let the girl sit. She's only just risen and ye'd be stuffing her like a roast chicken." Falco growled, grinning at Eodwine's friendly slur, before turning back to the girls. "A bit of tea will fix you up nice, Miss."

"Aye, miss Ayeth, what think you?" a man's voice from the table next came across to Saeryn's ears. She could tell that Eodwine had heard, and Hama, and Falco's attention was diverted from the bacon with a sharp elbow to the shoulder. The group leaned, almost imperceptibly to hear the rest.

Saeryn laughed aloud when the girl, Ayeth, she remembered, directed the mens' attention to the fact that she was but one, while they were two. Leaning over, Saeryn whispered just loudly enough to be heard by everyone, including the ever watchful Innkeeper, to the girl. "Have ye ever noticed, miss, that when ye least expect it, yon brawny adventurous sorts arrive? Methinks it might be planned a'purpose." The girl giggled helplessly while the twins blushed. Hama and Eodwine hid their amusement behind hands barely big enough to cover their smiles. Falco had returned to his breakfast, but was smiling into his drink. "If my friends here don't mind, you are all welcome to join us."

[littlemanpoet]

"B-but, there are two of you," Ayeth stammered.

"Why, so there are..." mused Garreth. The twins eyed each other, brows lowering.

Suddenly one of the lasses at the next table laughed aloud. Leaning over, she whispered loudly Ayeth. "Have ye ever noticed, miss, that when ye least expect it, yon brawny adventurous sorts arrive? Methinks it might be planned a'purpose."

Ayeth giggled helplessly while the twins blushed.

The young woman said, "If my friends here don't mind, you are all welcome to join us."

"Aye," Garreth said, breaking into a grin, "we'll join you." He glanced at Ayeth. "That is, if the lass wishes it." Ayeth nodded, picking up her plate. "It's decided then."

"Keep these two in hand, then, will you, Saeryn?" said Bêthberry, who winked, and made off to the kitchen.

"Mind you, Harreld," Garreth said as they came over, "it was I as spoke to the lassie first."

Harreld rolled his eyes as he took a seat between Eodwine and Saeryn. "Very well, brother. Seems there's an uncommonly plentiful supply of young lassies to keep us company this morning."

Saeryn aimed the three prongs of her fork at Harreld meaningfully. "Now don't ye be getting any silly ideas about me!"

Wide eyed, Harreld raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. The two men and the hobbit chuckled merrily.

Garreth saw to Ayeth's seating, next to the waifish girl, and sat between Ayeth and the hobbit. "Now then! Let us have some introductions! Seems we're all new faces to each other! A most happy omen, that!"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Introductions, eh?" Eodwine leaned back thoughtfully. "Well, I'm Eodwine, this fella is Hama, and my friend here is Falco. These lovely lasses are the ladies Gudryn and Saeryn."

"Why Eodwine, you scoundrel," interjected Saeryn with a wide grin and a wink, "You make me sound like some noble lady fit for naught but needle-work and looking pretty."

The twins' eyes grew. Harreld regained his flirtatiousness, leaning slightly towards Saeryn. "Well miss, you don't strike me as the type fit for just needle-work, although yer a mighty pretty lady and I'd venture you look it no matter what you're doing."

Saeryn's cheeks flushed, a wisp of hair coming loose from it's braid to fall into her eyes. She pushed it aside laughing. "Pretty is as pretty does, as my mother..." she trailed off, looking suddenly sorrowful.

[littlemanpoet]

"Why so sad, Lady Saeryn?" Eodwine asked.

She frowned, then brightened quickly. "I think it is not my turn for tale telling, so that will have to wait. Who has yet to offer a story?"

"I would hear more of Gudryn's tale, if she feels strengthend enough," Falco said, puffing on his pipe.

"One thing she has said," Eodwine put in, "if I may share it, miss?" Gudryn nodded once. "There is a ruffian who bears the name, Rand, and he has used the girl ill. She has run from him and has sought the safety of this inn."

"I - I fear this inn is not enough safety against him, sirs," the girl said softly. "He is bigger than all of you.... and ... I fear for you if he comes here."

The men sat up straighter in their chairs. "Who is this scoundrel?" Garreth asked.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

After successfully foisting the attention onto someone else, Saeryn's own was diverted to Gudryn. "Why Lady... please don't be afraid. With all of these swords to guard you, as well as the Inns security (which I am assured is quite good), I am sure it will all turn out."

"Well said, Lady Saeryn!" cried Harreld.

Flatly denying her heritage, They don't need to know..., Saeryn replied. "I'm no lady, Master Harreld... just a lass out for a bit of an adventure." I've always been a good liar... let us hope that they don't see through this...

[peral]

Ayeth's eyes narrowed as Saeryn denied being of noble birth. Although she was willing enough to trust this girl, something at the back of her mind kept at her.

She's lying, it said, floating around screaming in her mind.

What is it any of my business if she is? argued Ayeth.

Liars cannot be trusted, the voice hissed back.

Ayeth pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind and turned her attention back to Gudryn.

"Aye, I do not believe there is cause for worry. I'm sure there are enough men here who would aid us, should the need arise," she assured Gudryn, placing her small hand of her arm.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

At Saeryn's denial, she heard a sharp intake of breath. She glanced over in time to see Ayeth's eyes narrow in suspicion. Oh Eru above, she knows. Hiding her fear, Saeryn schooled her face to an expression of innocence. Hama watched the silent transaction with latent interest. "Ah yes, a story. Eodwine, was it not your turn last night?" Saeryn asked. "Perhaps a yarn would lighten the mood..." Looking towards Ayeth, Saeryn spoke to the girl. "Miss Ayeth, would you accompany me to my room for a moment? I've a bag of sweets that these men-folk might enjoy." Hiding her apprehension, Ayeth rose beside Saeryn.

Eodwine watched with curiosity as they walked away, heads together, talking almost silently. Seeing that Saeryn wished for privacy, he immediately dove into a story. "Ah, so a story," he though aloud, stroking his chin for emphasis. "Ah, yes.. T'was naught but a few monthes past as I was walking down a bubbling brook..."

His voice faded as the young women left the room. Whispering urgently, Saeryn leaned close to Ayeth. "Miss, I can see in your eyes that you do not trust me, or if you do, you do not believe me. In attempt to make this not so, you must hear the truth, but please, for the sake of us all, do not repeat what I say. Yes, Miss Ayeth, I am of noble birth. I am hiding it for the safety of everyone that I meet, and if those men find out, than so much the worse."

"You mean to imply they would do you harm?" Ayeth asked, eyes wide.

"Not at all, m'lady. I mean to insinuate that if they knew just why I arrived at this Inn yesterday, exhausted, rain-soaked, and afraid, than they would set out immediately on an adventure to fix the ills that sent me here." Quickly Saeryn continued, still whispering. "For all that we have all just met, I trust these men with my life. But I do not trust their chivalry... it is too much of them for them to ignore it through my will alone. That is why they cannot know my history. Please, Ayeth, do not tell?"

Saeryn looked beseechingly into the other girl's eyes. Ayeth looked back, seeing no longer a liar, but a young women, barely a year older than herself, afraid. What, Ayeth thought, could have driven such a strong-minded woman from her home and title?

[peral]

Ayeth laid her small hand upon Saeryn's arm comfortingly.

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me," she assured the girl.

She looked into the other girl's eyes and she saw fear. She, Ayeth, knew what fear was, but it was a different kind of fear mirrored in Saeryn's eyes. It was a fear of death. Ayeth had only known the fear of losing someone and being left alone, but this was different. This was a fear that Ayeth prayed she would never have to experience herself.

"If ever you need a friend," she whispered, "I'll be there for you." Why was she saying this to a girl she had met less than an hour hence? Giving her loyalty and friendship to a person she hardly knew. She, Ayeth, wasn't strong, hardly able to protect herself let alone another person, so what had possessed her to say that? Yet she thought the glimpsed a shadow of gratefulness in Saeryn's eyes and she felt better once more.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"I'll be there for you."

It echoed in Saeryn's head as a drip of water in the deepest caverns of the mountains. When had the lady ever had a true friend? The closest that came was Saeryn's twin brother Degas; the only member of her family she had contact with. When Saeryn's noble parents had died, her brother Fenrir, as hot-headed as he was large, tried to keep the four siblings together. His gruff affection was nothing compared to their parents adoration. Caelwyn, some five years older than the twins, had bolted three years back, leaving the broken family in despair and dishonour. Fenrir had decided that it was the interaction with "the common sort", as he called them, that had driven Caeli away. Henceforth, Saeryn and Degas were strictly banned from contact with any below their stations. Dressed in gowns with handmaidens and a seemingly unending parade of suitors, the once happy Saeryn began to hate the world. Degas, always her confidante, watched her grow paler, sicker... Eventually, seeing that his beloved twin would never flourish kept inside a gilded cage, he sent her away. She had travelled since, ever dreading the day that Fenrir found her; dreading the day she was forced again into gowns and dancing. What the lady Eowyn's fame had done for other noble ladies, Saeryn was excluded from. Fenrir was a conservative of the most stubborn variety.

"I'll be there for you." A sincere voice; an honest girl. The men in the hall cared for Saeryn's personal happiness as her former guardians never had. They knew almost nothing about her, but they would rush to her aid at the earliest sign of trouble. A single tear fell from Saeryn's eye, rolling slowly down her pale cheek. Clasping Ayeth's hand, Saeryn finally whispered a reply. "You've no idea what your offer means, friend, nor how much it is appreciated. I am in your debt. If there is anything..." She let the offer trail off, but by Ayeth's face, could tell it was understood.

Wiping her eye with the back of her hand, Saeryn composed herself. "Now before those menfolk come looking, let us get something sweet to appease their patience." She winked at Ayeth and began to pull myriad items from her bags.

[Esgallhugwen]

Gudryn

Lady Ruthven had given Gudryn a brush that morning to comb out her tangles, she was thankful for now she did not seem so petty in front of these strangers.

A shawl was draped around her to cover up her rags, the women still couldn't find anything that fitted her properly, especially with her long legs and thin build. Everyone was chatting away happily while she remained still and quiet trying to take it all in.

"I would hear more of Gudryn's tale, if she feels strengthend enough," Falco said, puffing on his pipe.

"One thing she has said," Eodwine put in, "if I may share it, miss?" Gudryn nodded once, her auburn hair cast down around her freckled face. "There is a ruffian who bears the name, Rand, and he has used the girl ill. She has run from him and has sought the safety of this inn."

"I - I fear this inn is not enough safety against him, sirs," the girl said softly raising her head slightly. "He is bigger than all of you.... and ... I fear for you if he comes here."

The men sat up straighter in their chairs. "Who is this scoundrel?" Garreth asked.

Gudryn looked to the one twin with momentary apprehension, but she saw the sincerity in his eyes. "Sirs, I must confess to you that I have no memory of my parents for it has more than likely been beaten out of me, whether they died or abandoned me I will never know. And that is how Rand came by me, though I know not why he took me in", she sighed and a shudder went up her back as she tried to suppress a cough.

"Why Lady... please don't be afraid. With all of these swords to guard you, as well as the Inns security (which I am assured is quite good), I am sure it will all turn out."

She smiled at Saeryn despite her uncertainty, their words are noble but his rage stronger and if he finds me here....

"Well said, Lady Saeryn!" cried Harreld as the others nodded in agreement, "I'm no lady, Master Harreld... just a lass out for a bit of an adventure." Gudryn noticed the behaviour of the younger girl and of Saeryn but said nothing as they walked out of the room, she stayed with the men.

It was decided that because the day was still young and Gudryn was not yet strong enough that dark tales should be saved till later. So Eodwine spoke up th break the silence.

"Ah, so a story," he though aloud, stroking his chin for emphasis. "Ah, yes.. T'was naught but a few months past, I was walking down a bubbling brook...".

[littlemanpoet]

"Ah, yes.. T'was naught but a few months past, I was walking down a bubbling brook... well, not walking, but trotting, for I was on horse. So there I was, in the foothills of Lebennin .... well, not a few months past, but just a couple weeks ago, as a matter of fact...."

Eodwine paused and looked from face to face a moment to gauge their interest; they were still listening with due patience.

"The brook moved quickly down the steep hill I trotted down ... well, it wasn't really Lebennin, come to think of it, but somewhat west of the Gap of Rohan, truth be told. At any rate, there I was, meandering along with the stream, when out jumped a .... well, nothing really jumped out, exactly, but the wind did pick up and blew a stick in front of Flithaf's nose and started him, and he shivered."

Eodwine stopped. Falco was puffing on his pipe, watching Eodwine with raised brows, looking none too trusting for some reason.

"Well, shivered isn't the right way to put it, not really."

Eodwine picked up his rather heavy looking cup of drink, which he wished had more hop in it, and took a sip, peeking over the brim at his listeners. Harreld was drumming his fingers on the table, a longsuffering expression on his face.

"He bucked me clean off."

"That's more like it," Falco said around his pipe.

"I fell head first into a puddle. Well, not-"

"Oh no you don't!" Garreth said. "You said puddle, so a puddle it is!"

"Well, so be it then," Eodwine smirked. "I fell head first into a two foot deep puddle."

"No puddle can be two foot deep," Garreth protested. "That has to be a .... um, what would you call it?" He looked to Harreld.

"Do not ask me! You were the one said it had to be a puddle!"

"Well, how wide was it?" Hama asked. "Five foot about?"

"Nay," said Falco. "Big enough to hold him toe to curls, and then some."

"Trough, then." offered Garreth.

"Pond," Harreld raised the ante.

"Muck hole," Hama grinned.

"Hog wallow," Falco grinned.

"Nothing of the kind!" Eodwine protested.

"It would have been had any hogs been there."

"And they were not, so no more about hogs. Pool it was, or pondlet, if you must."

"Pondlet it is," said Garreth, and he was ayed around the table.

Eodwine took the moment to wink at Gudryn, whose eyes bounced back from speaker to speaker trying to keep up with the badinage. She smiled back at him.

"Anyway, so there I was in the pondlet, and this halfling happened by at just that moment, and threw me a rope, as if I needed it."

"You was half drownded." Falco insisted.

"Nothing of the kind. I stayed put so you could feel useful."

"Nonsense!"

The two girls, Saeryn and Ayeth, walked back in the room, curious expressions on their faces over what they had missed.

[Bêthberry]

Ruthven cackled gruffly and the manner of her laughter surprised the young girl Gudryn.

"Heh," the old woman said, "Ye'd best never call me lady, as around these parts the rag dealer don't warrant much respect, unless it is to scrabble up some spare cash in a deal with her. But I thank 'e for your regard and won't hold it against ye."

The girls were aghast. What! Would the title of Lady carry something disrespectful? Of poor repute? Ruthven caught the nature of their thoughts in their faces.

"'Tis not all who hanker after the manner of ladyships, young lasses. Why, there's much howdy doing and sweeping things under the table to being a lady. And much putting on airs and fine manners that don't do justice to some of the more honourable folks who don't pretend." Ruthven nodded and pulled out a corncob pipe, tapping it against the table and knocking the dead ash out onto her emptied plate.

"W-wh-why, isn't it the finest thing to be a lady?" Ayeth asked.

Saeryn spoke up, perhaps a tad too quickly for her own interests in keeping her story a secret. "There's limits and lost opportunity to being a lady."

The twins stared at her for this comment while Eodwine calmly raised his eyebrow as a way of marking his interest. Falco was so surprised that he let his pipe go out.

"They's full of what you might say is mucky pride, a watered down thing from the real one, perhaps like the muck which yon Falco saved Eodwine from. My apologies, lads, I dinna mean to interrupt your story. Go on wi' it."

Behind everyone's shoulder the Innkeeper appeared, her feet having moved with the calm, quiet grace she was known for. "Aye indeed, there's ladies and then there's ladies. You can ask Ruthven for her stories of some later, but for now I wish to hear the conclusion of sorts which I'm sure Eodwine has for us." She took a seat beside the twins with a slight nod.

Ruthven, having tamped down some tobbacy in her pipe, had calmly lit it, blowing small puffs of smoke over the table, and then offerred to relight Falco's dead embers. The lasses would have stared at her, for they had never seen a woman smoke before, but they were too polite and embarassed now over what fine manners might or might not be, to say anything.

"We've three now who've missed the fabulous tale of the pondlet or the hollow and the miraculous aid and marvellous rise of the noble Messenger, Ayeth, Saeryn and Bethberry," she intoned between puffs, " Eodwine, bring them up to date on your tale. "

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Berating herself silently, Saeryn grinned widely at the group. "Ruthven has it exactly. Have ye never had to serve under an infuriating lord or lady whose only importance is what they seem to believe they deserve?"

"Aye," added Hama. "You'd be surprised at how many high-rankers don't have the constitution for the job."

"Indeed... being of high rank is a job and a half... from what I've heard." Saeryn blushed faintly. The group looked at her curiously, but as she continued to make no move to speak, they politely pretended not to notice the girl's curious reactions to the mentions of nobility. "You cannot simply live the life without paying the price... nobles ought be spending time with commoners to learn what they really need, as opposed to taxing them to pay for a silken dress."

"I'll drink to that!" came a cheerful voice from the door. The table's occupants glanced over to the unfamiliar face. A handsome man of medium height, his broad shoulders carried a sense of inborn power that tended to make impressionable young girls swoon. A light dusting of freckles covered his flushed cheeks. The young man's hazel eyes swept the room, coming to rest upon the only occupant trying valiantly to pretend he was not there.

Ruthven cackled to herself, seeing Saeryn's discomfort. "Ay, m'girl, now there be another handsome young lad. Shall I claim him, or would ye like him yerself?"

Forcing herself to meet the young man's eyes, identical to her own down to the most insignificant fleck, Saeryn's face went dead white. Struggling from the bench, she fled the Great Hall, barely managing to keep the contents of her stomach where they belonged.

"Saeryn!" he called, much alarmed. Trying to follow, he was stopped as the men of the table stood, blocking his way.

Eodwine stepped forward, anger and worry lining his face. "I do not know who you are, or what your business is, but ye've obviously upset the girl, and ye'd better not be thinking of following."

The man made to move around him, intent on going to Saeryn. The twins stepped forward, flanking him. Eodwine spoke quietly. "Do not even try."

[littlemanpoet]

The youth looked Eodwine over with a somewhat haughtier look than expected.

"Who is it that suggests threats against one of the Helmingas?"

Eodwine raised a brow. "We have only your word of that. Your garb, gear, and actions say you are not of such noble lineage."

"Even so, I am." The youth looked Eodwine up and down. "You have not yet answered my question. Who are you?"

"He talks like one of such lineage," Garreth said, "I'll give 'im that."

The youth flicked Garreth a glance and stood, feet well apart, facing Eodwine.

"Very well. I am Eodwine of the Gap, messenger of King Eomer. The girl you chased is a friend of mine. You still must name yourself and answer for your rashness before I show you the respect due your claim."

The youth lifted his chin so he could look down his nose at the taller Rohirrim. "I am Dégas of the Folde, and you stand between me and my twin sister."

"What!" Eodwine in surprise.

Falco strolled in front of Eodwine and looked up at Dégas, measuringly, as he puffed on his pipe. With a disgusted grimace, Dégas waved at the smoke assaulting his nostrils.

Falco took the pipe from his mouth and said, "You still haven't proved nothing but that you can make big claims. Show us who you are and maybe we'll be kind, and then only if the lady Saeryn says so. What say you?"

"Aye," Harreld grated. "What say you to that?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Dégas looked daggers at the men in front of him. He had travelled many miles from Minas Tirith in search of his twin. There was news she had to hear, and only from he would it be received. With the most incredible amount of luck, the young man had found her by chance, walking into an Inn in time to hear her voice. Glaring at Eodwine, he reached for his sword.

"Ah lad, you'd not be wanting to take on us all would ye?" Eodwine warned him.

"Bite your tongue man. You asked for proof, I give it freely, though for what reason my noble sister should be accounted your friend I may never know." Dégas drew his blade, flipping it deftly and handing it to Eodwine hilt first. "You have my blade. If you look to the hilt, you will notice, if you are truly my lady sister's friend, that hers is of identical make. You will also please to notice, sir, that you are now armed and I am not. Would one desiring to inflict harm pass over his only weapon of defense so freely?"

Stepping from behind, Ruthven grabbed the sword from Eodwine's hands, running knarled fingers along the flat, running ancient eyes along it's length. "'Tis the same all right, as I well saw last night." Dégas' eyes widened. He had helped his sister escape their brother... for her to come to be in an Inn at a table with people she barely knew? Where was her sense of propriety? He knew of her love of the common man, but he had always thought of it more as a theoretical love.

"Do I have your trust?" he asked shortly.

"No." Dégas' eyes flashed with impatient anger. Eodwine continued. "Lad, for all that you look like the lady, why would she run from her twin, if that be what you really are?"

"Sirs, ladies," he bowed. "It is of the utmost importance that I see my sister. If you refuse to allow me to see my own kin... I beg you to bring her to me."

[Bêthberry]

"Gentleman and good people all," intoned a voice clear with dignity and command, though not with noble hauteur. It was the Innkeeper. Bethberry stepped forward.

Dégas, if you will, please respect the rules of this Inn. It is a noble Inn with the longest and finest history in Edoras. You prove yourself honourable by passing on your sword, but do not think you can march in here and make demands upon the patrons. Or on myself."

"Who are you, woman?" asked the young man.

Eodwine's eyes flashed at the insolence and the twins rose in anger, sputtering, and Falco, why, he harummpffed in his best manner.

Bethberry raised her hand to her friends and looked the young man squarely in the face.

"Who am I indeed. It is a good question. One that many here could not answer. Yet they judge me and accept me on my manners and behaviour to them, and not by my history. I bid you show us similar courtesy."

"I beg your pardon, Madam. Where is the Innkeeper?" replied the boy, stung but not giving way his ground of self assurance.

"Where is she indeed," Bethberry remarked with a smile. "Perhaps you will sit down and show your good intentions by being a good patron of this inn. Order some ale or mead or warm drink, even a plate to fill your belly, and make the efforts of the staff here worthwhile. Give them your coin that they may go home this evening with reward for their labours. And perhaps then you will find a friendlier response to your concerns."

At which point Ruthven caught Bethberry's eye, nodded, and then wispered to Ayeth and Gudryn, "Let Saeryn know that she is not forced to make an appearance unless she wishes it under the auspices of the Innkeeper."

[Nurumaiel]

Frodides heard the raised voices and paused in her work, a little frown flickering over her face. For some time she had been listening to the faint sound of talk and laughter, and this change was abrupt, and unpleasant. Though she had no doubt that Bethberry would handle the situation well, Frodides was thankful that the children were all out of doors, and not hanging about the Common Room. That is, all but Maercwen, who had returned to help her mother with the cleaning.

"Maercwen, m'dear," said Frodides, "set down your work and go see what is amiss in the Common Room. Perhaps Bethberry will want some assistance, even if it is merely to bring a plate of food for some new guest."

Maercwen dried her hands and left, pausing a moment at the kitchen door to survey the Common Room. There seemed nothing very wrong. There were several men and girls, and they showed no attitude of trouble, save that their faces were rather dark. Bethberry stood among them, with the attitude of firmness and courtesy that was so common in her. Maercwen could not help but reflect on the previous day, when the twins had been fighting. She had spoken sharply to them to make them stop. They had stopped, but, observing the little scene before her, Maercwen wondered if would not have been better to speak to them with firmness, yet also with kindness as well.

She approached Bethberry and murmured low in her ear: "Miss Bethberry, my mother heard the raised voices, and she wonders if there is anything we might to do assist you."

[Bêthberry]

Ayeth and Gudryn had risen swiftly and followed after Saeryn, with not a little movement from Dégas towards them, but Garreth and Harreld held firm in his path, each somewhat anxious to outdo the other in terms of firmness of resolve, particularly as the girls' eyes, and there was some needling of elbows which ended only with Falco’s grunt of satisfaction when his pipe was relit. He seemed to place great stock in the power of pipeweed smoke to defeat this surly twin enemy of the young lady Saeryn.

However, Maercwen's good manners drew more than just the attention of Bethberry. The courtesy of her deportment and her civil manner brought a calmness into the Great Hall.

"This might be a fair time to share some drink and bread. Perhaps you can ask our new arrival, the young man Dégas, if he wishes to order anything. He must be thirsty after his hard ride and long searching.”

Dégas took a step back as he surmised that this woman standing before him was actually the Innkeeper. For some time he was tongue-tied in amazement. How could it be, he thought, that a decorous, respectable looking woman would be so brazen these days, as to submit to such a common occupation. He feared even more for his sister then, brought into such boon companionship. But what was he to say? He cleared his throat and stood erect.

“Madam, you see that I am unacquainted with certain parts of Edoras and persons of the community who do not appear before the Golden Hall and finer parts of the city. You must allow me to make amends for my discourtesy in not understanding your standards of deportment. While I myself am not inclined to partake of drink in this establishment, allow me to buy a round of ale for all present.” He bowed stiffly.

“Cor, what a bl…” began Falco.

“Oh, young gentleman, you are rudely mistaken if you think that we are low folk here,’ spoke up Maercwen, quite incensed by the high airs of the lad. “Some of us have attended musical performances at the Hall, and the court bard did stay with us and the Lady Eowyn herself has graced our fine hall.” She spoke with more firmness in her eyes than she had the day previously when speaking to Garreth and Harreld, but she could not stand to see such denigration of the Horse.

“No wonder the lass ran from you,” intoned Eodwine.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn stumbled into her room, frightened tears staining her cheeks. Gudryn and Ayeth followed swiftly. With a light knock, they opened her door, calling softly, to find Saeryn seated on the floor in the corner, arms wrapped bracingly around her knees. Her face was the color of milk. The girl stared past them, lost in a distant memory.

"Saeryn..." Ayeth knelt beside her, touching her hand lightly. Saeryn started back to reality, glancing at the girls.

"I... where is he?" she asked weakly.

"The young man is with our protecters... with your friends. Mistress Bethberry bids you to worry not... you need not see him and if you should desire too, you have her guardianship."

Saeryn went silent, her breath a mere whisper in the air. She glanced toward the door. "Will you stand beside me?"

"You need not even ask."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Put in his place, although gently, Dégas looked humbly at the Innkeeper. "Mistress, I offer the most profound--"

Eodwine butted in with a grin. "Profundity is not the way to go lad... speak politely, but in real terms that real people would use. You've been amongst the self-important for too long."

His pride damaged slightly, Dégas bowed a little to Eodwine. "Sirs, ladies... Mistress Innkeeper. I am sorry. I was... I acted the fool. I beg your pardon..."

Bethberry smiled. "Now that was not so hard. Would you like a drink lad, and we can sort this mess out a bit?"

"Aye, but nothing stronger than some hot cider, if you have it."

"Now what sort of Inn would we be with no hot cider?" Bethberry sent Maercwen to the kitchen with a discreet tip of her head and a wink. Taking the young man by the elbow, with a surprised look from him, Bethberry led him to a table and sat him down. Placing herself across from him, she paused for a moment before asking gently, "Now lad, what business so brings you to The White Horse, and why, if twin she be, did the lady Saeryn run as though seeing a ghost?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Standing firmly, Saeryn walked slowly to her door. Gudryn and Ayeth followed, sharing a look. With almost forced movement, Saeryn opened the door and stepped back into the hall. Glancing back, she walked, head high, down the hallway and to the Great Hall from whence she came.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dégas felt younger than he had in years. In all his time in King Aragorn's Court, he had never felt smaller and more inexperienced. He glanced across the table into the Innkeeper's eyes, finding there pity and understanding. Finding the courage to speak, he answered truthfully. "Mistress, I cannot tell you what business brings me here, for to learn of it from one other than myself, I think would cause great harm to my sister. Why she should run... I can guess only that she thought I have come to bring her home." Feeling the presence of the twins behind him, Dégas pointedly ignored them. Falco, seeing the situation quite competently managed, hurrumphed in his best manner, returning his full attention to his food and pipe.

"And why, young sir," It was here that Maercwen returned with the cider, pressing it gently into Dégas' hands. He received it with a smile and a whispered thank you. "And why would the lady fear returning home?"

"That is a story for her to tell, if she will. I will not reveal it, if she has not." Dégas sipped his drink, savouring the rich flavour. "I do not know that she fears the return, so much as hates the very thought. She has so much freedom here, as I have..." he paused, glancing at each face. "As I have noticed."

"And why lad, should we harbor you here, when you made every effort to get your way perforce, rather than simply speaking as a civilized man, as you are now doing?"

"Why indeed." Falco grunted.

Dégas looked down into his well-dressed lap, feeling, at this moment, worse than ever. "Mistress... I came here as a hot-headed lordling, full of praise, but, as I think on it, probably deserving of little of it. I shall take you, dear lady, as you are to me, if you will forget my ill-thought actions and take me for me. I come but to see my sister, and I heeded little else in that search. I am sorry." Bethberry, seeing now the soft-spoken cheerful lad that had entered the Inn, relented. "If she consents--" She broke off, glancing to the door. There stood Saeryn, bearing herself differently than she had before. She seemed to have grown as Dégas had become smaller. Filling the door, the girl paused before proudly and calmly walking forward.

Dégas looked up from his seat, rising to meet his twin. She stopped a horse's length away, looking her brother top to toe before meeting his eyes. "Dégas, why do you come here?"

Glancing, respectfully now, at the group men around him, and the two young women flanking Saeryn, Dégas bowed yet again. "Sister dear, perhaps a private word..." He allowed the question to hang in the air.

"Whatever word you choose to speak, you may say it in front of my friends and protectors. I have known them scarce long, but hold them each in high esteem and with much affection. They shall know what you have come to say."

"Saeryn..." his eyes begged. "Saeryn, Caeli is dead. I had word from the north. She was taken on the road by a band of outlaws. You know her mind as well as I... the fight ended swiftly, with her bested. Word tells that she repaid her own loss greatly before she fell." A silent tear slid down his cheek. Silence filled the air and Saeryn processed the knowledge that her only sister was dead. Her family, scattered before, was dying almost before her eyes. Saeryn's composure broke. She ran to her twin, arms and heart outstretched, and they embraced. Quiet tears stained her cheeks as the other members of the group tried tactfully to pretend they were not there, aware of their intrusion upon this private moment of grief.

[peral]

Ayeth desperately attempted to choke back her own tears. She figured that this Caeli that was being spoken about was one of Saeryn's kindred. Staring down at the floor she thought about her own family. There were almost none left now, her father....her father! She had almost certainly tarried here in this inn far too long. Time had seemed to fly past like leaves borne on the wind and the worst things that could have happened to her father flashed through her mind. No, she promised, he will...he cannot die, not now.

She looked up at Saeryn and her brother who were in tears. It seemed such an awkward time to bring up such a seemingly unimportant subject, but it had to be done.

"Uh..." she began quietly. Harreld and Garreth gave her a questioning look. "I really should be getting back to my father now. I've been gone too long..."

[Esgallhugwen]

Gudryn

Gudryn watched somewhat helplessly at the events that unfolded before her.

You are an ill wretch! Covered in filthy rags, blood, scars and bruises!

And in such royal company she knew nothing of how to behave and so she lowered her head trying to make herself inconspicuous. The depth of tortured sorrow within her rich brown eyes collected into hot tears.

She brushed them away quickly with her shawl remaining behind the others. Death seemed to follow her, hatred grew within her, she wished Rand were dead, no longer haunting her mind and threatening her very life if he came to this place.

Gudryn prayed he wouldn't find her, but her hope was smouldering. Was she waiting for him, was she waiting to die?

[peral]

Ayeth saw the tears well up in Gudryn's eyes though she tried so desperately to hide them. Suddenly she felt a pang of remorse, she couldn't just leave now, it would be seen as running away from a situation and she knew she'd never live it down if she did so now. Although she said nothing, she stayed nonetheless and she hoped that noone would ask any difficult questions about it.

She placed her hand on Gudryn's arm. The girl looked up at her and Ayeth could see the grief and desperation in her eyes.

"Don't worry," she whispered. "I'm sure it is safe here. And even if..." here she trailed off seeing the look in Gudryn's eyes. The girl was willing her to stop and stop she did because of what she knew could happen to her had she continued.

[littlemanpoet]

The news that faced Saeryn was dreadful. The man of Eomer and the hobbit were saddened for her, and the boy Dégas, and expressed their sorrow at her loss.

Eodwine said, "Lady Saeryn, though I am most curious, you need not tell us a thing about your family, not until and unless you are quite ready." He turned to Maercwen. "Mayhap we could have that cider that the good lad has offered up, and thereby quench some small bit of sorrow in shared drink and company."

Maercwen nodded and scurried off to the kitchen.

Soon drinks were had all around, and Eodwine for his part was grateful that it was cider instead of anything stronger. Once they had quaffed and taken what solace could be had from their shared company, Eodwine stood and said, "Long has Master Falco Boffin been waiting to be shown the Great Hall of Meduseld, where I must go to report. It is time for me to take him there. I offer to take Gudryn under my protection, with the aid of Harreld and Garreth, if they desire, as far as the King's hall, where I will ask what may be known of this Rand fellow. Maybe we can get to the bottom of this. And while we are busy with it, I shall see that Gudryn is provided with seemly clothing for a young Rohirric lass. Then maybe we can all meet again here toward evening and learn what we may. Maybe the Lady Bethberry would have Gudryn accompanied by another lass to keep her at ease? And what say you, Gudryn?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Drying her tears over a pint, Saeryn's cheeks remained faded. Would every place she thought to call home become a place of horror? She could not remain at the Inn for now, whither she returned or no.

"Eodwine, friend, I am willing to be companion to Gudryn, if she and you will have me. I seem to have business that must be swiftly dealt with. Would you have me join you?"

Dégas made to lay his hand over his sister's, drawing back at the last. She glanced at his still red eyes. "Dégas, I must go, and please... you mustn't try to stop me. I realize now that I cannot forever run from my home. No place again shall home be called if I fear reprisal for my prior actions. Will you," and here Saeryn spread her arms wide, "Or all or any of you, join me to the Folde? I go there from Meduseld." Turning to Bethberry, Saeryn spoke again. "Mistress, if I might but reserve the room you have given me? I plan to ride light, and with me are extra belongings that my mare need not bear."

[Boromir88]

Alrik was a tall man, with jet black hair down, to his shoulders. He had the appearance, as well as the build, of one of them mountain men from Gondor. He also walked with a clear limp, but no one knew why. Most figured he was injured in the previous wars, but some said his left leg was longer than his right.

Alrik strode into the Inn, immediately catching the attention of the others in the hall. There was a long, silent pause. He continued to hobble towards the counter, his feet echoing each step he took, breaking the silence. He noticed he was being watched and attempted to not draw so much attention. He reached into his worn, ragged pants, and pulled out a piece of paper; which he quickly stuffed back into his pocket. He turned away from the other inn members, and faced the wall behind the counter; hoping to get served soon, so he could be off soon.

[peral]

Ayeth nodded slowly.

"Aye, tis what would be best for us, at least, that's what I believe," she quickly added.

She was grateful for this suggestion. It gave her a chance to return home to her father without seeming to be running away from a situation. Her father...again images of what could possibly have occurred to him over the past hours flashed through her mind's eye again.

With a small bob to Harreld and Garreth and nods to Eodwine and Falco, she made as to leave. But before she did, she touched Saeryn's arm and looked at the girl reassuringly. As she reached the door, she looked back once, remembering what the inn was like, for she was sure it would be some time before she would be seeing it again.

[Esgallhugwen]

Gudryn

People. Strangers. Heros.

For once in her life Gudryn found herself in bewildering company, people who, without the slightest wink of an eye would go forward and right the wrongs of people they hardly knew. Without the faintest flinch would swear oaths to protect them.

Gudryn's face hardened, and she nodded her head. For once she was sure of what she must do.

"I will go with you to Meduseld, and have Saeryn by my side as well, if she wishes it so"

Eodwine and Saeryn nodded, she smiled meakly back and wrapped the shawl tighter around herself. She waved goodbye to Ayeth as she headed out the door back to her father.

To have a Father, to take care of in old age.

Gudryn looked past the people to the far wall, a trickling of images went through her and she looked away.

"Are Harreld and Garreth to accompany us?"

[Bêthberry]

A voice cried out to Ayeth ere she walked out of the heavy oak doors. It was Frodides, the cook. 'Don't you be leaving empty-handed with a father to attend to. Here, take this pot of warm soup and share it with him."

Ayeth stood open-mouthed, unsure of how to accept--or whether to accept--this generosity.

"Don't stand on ceremony. It is a small enough thing. And you can always be tellling your father that you must return the pot to me, so we will be expecting to see you back again, young miss. And give my regards to your Da. He knows me."

Ayeth's face brightened considerably at the easy, kind manner of the woman. Oh that she still had her own mother, as sweet and thoughtful as this woman! She would have hugged Frodides had her shyness not held her back.

"I thankee, Mistress Frodides, with all my heart. I will indeed return your pot, and likely with my Da's good wishes." With that, Ayeth sprang out the door, to return with a more satisfied heart to her father.

And in the Great Hall, plans were being laid.

"Now what would Eodwine be knowin' about clothes for fine Rohirrim lasses?" asked Ruthven mischievously, hoping to lessen some of the sombre mood. "Lass, if the Innkeeper here won't have some clothes left behind by a guest who had more finery than coin, then the Edoras rag lady will."

"Indeed, Gudryn," intoned Bethberry. "Come, check out the back closet with Ruthven to see what we have, before you go to see what stock of clothes she has in her own establishment. You'd be surprised at what clothes the ladies part with when they have need of coin."

"Lad, I am sorry your ill news meant initially an ill welcome, and Saeryn, I am most sorry for your loss. A room will be yours, if you consider leaving some of your possessions behind as a promise of return."

At this point, a stranger strode into the Horse and Bethberry saw she would need to attend to another patron.

"Eodwine, you are all most welcome back this evening to discuss what matters to attend to. And to taste what delicacies Frodides will have prepared." With a wink and a grin at Falco and the twins, the Innkeeper moved on to address the stranger.

He was a grim-looking man, untidy with travels perhaps. Bethberry wondered if his sullen mood reflected a chip on his shoulder, developed in tandem with the ungainly hobble of his walk. She approached him warily but with the usual Innkeeper's welcome for all patrons and wondered what need he had to view the paper which he pushed so quickly back into his pocket. She was, however, too discrete to ask openly about it.

"Stranger, the Innkeeper welcomes you to The White Horse. You arrive early and you see we have had a busy morn with much communal discussion. Yet our kitchen is open to you. Is it light fare you wish, or a substantial meal? Or do you seek some advice or merely directions to our town?"

[Witch_Queen]

Adu rode up to the inn. She hadn't gazed upon the marvels of the White Horse in a long time. Her horse let out a whiny to show approval of the journey. Adu was glad to be back home and amongst people she knew. "Hama should be inside some wheres Count." The horse seemed to nodded his head showing that he understood her. She dismounted her horse and led him into the stables where she knew he would be happy back with some of his old comrads.

Adu turned and began walking to the front door of the inn when she thought she saw something out of the corner of her right eye. She turned around to see what she thought was General Dorian. "But it can't be your dead." The figure had an evil look on its face. Shaking its head the figure took off running towards Adu. Quickly Adu turned her head away only to realize that the figure was never there. "Why does the figments of my past tend to haunt me so?" Finally she decided it best to go inside the building.

Opening the door Adu saw many faces she had never seen before and only a few that she recognized. Looking around she saw no sign of Hama. "Well I guess he's hiding from me. Oh well." Adu walked to the corner to an empty table. "I guess I'll wait until he arrives." Her blue eyes scanned the rest of the people. Now that she thought of it, none of them looked familar to her well except Bethberry. Then again Adu spent very little time in the inn while she was in Rohan.

She pulled the hood of her cloak off of her head only to cause her black hair to fall around her shoulders. Adu had left her sword with Count and didn't feel as if she would need something like that in a place where she could see no trouble. "Now where could Hama be?"

[littlemanpoet]

Gudryn gave her assent to Bethberry and Ruthven's offer of the pick of what clothing lay around the Inn.

While Eodwine waited, he took note of the dark haired man with the limp, whom Bethberry served while Ruthven saw to Gudryn. Eodwine walked over to the man while Falco settled down near the hearth, smoking his pipe, as usual.

"Good day and well met." Eodwine offered his hand. The man turned, looked at him askance a moment, hesitated another moment, and then raised his hand to Eodwine's, who shook the other's as if nothing odd had occurred. "I am Eodwine of the Gap, messenger of King Eomer."

"Alrik," the man responded.

"You seem somewhat familiar to me, Alrik. Of course, I travel much for the King of Rohan, and may have seen you anywhere from Pelargir to Bree! Or was it the war?" Eodwine glanced at the man's leg, for he had seen his limp. "Do I perhaps know you from the war? I was with the muster of Rohan to Pelennor, and then at the Gates of the Morannon with King Elessar. Were you also in one of those battles?"

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama was leaning on the bar, mumbling, with an ale in one hand and a pipe in the other. He barely looked up when the inn door opened. When Eodwine said that Alrik looked familiar, and that he had maybe been in one of the wars, Hama spoke quietly, but hoarsely, "It is a known thing that few warriors take great joy in disscussing previous battles, even victories...the horrors that a man sees linger for the rest of his life, and talking about them only accentuates them."

Eodwine looked up at Hama. "Sorry, Hama, I forgot what-", Hama interjected "Never mind, Eodwine, what is past is past, and thinking about it cannot change it."

[Witch_Queen]

Adu sat in the corner looking around at the people in the inn. She looked down at the floor noticing every bit of dust that had collected in the corner beside her. Hearing the sound of a very familar voice Adu looked up and immediately realized that one of the men setting at the bar was Hama. For some reason the men setting beside Hama looked familar yet like strangers to her. Adu sat by herself trying to decide when it was best to talk with Hama.

She couldn't wait any longer. She stood up pulling the hood of her cloak back over her hair. She began walking towards the bar. She placed her hands over Hama's eyes and began to talk. "I knew I would find you here somewhere. You of all people should know you cannot hide from me." Adu couldn't keep a strait face anymore. She pulled her hands from his eyes and removed the hood of her cloak. Once again her hair fell around her shoulders before she was able to catch it and place the black hair behind her. "Do you mind if I join the two of you?" Adu stood there waiting for a word from one of the three men.

[Boromir88]

Alrik lifted his head up, after the innkeeper greeted him, "just put on some eggs for me....Oh, and a cup of tea." The inkeeper nodded and walked away; Alrik got a funny feeling in his stomach. He sat for a while, with his head down on the table. Then another man approached.

"Good day and well met. I am Eodwine of the Gap, messenger of King Eomer." Alrik looked up, he hadn't intended on attracting this much attention. He simply wanted to deliver the message his father gave him. He was to find Fastrod and give him the message. At first Alrik acted like he was just going to ignore the man, then he decided it was best not to, "Alrik," he replied.

"You seem somewhat familiar to me, Alrik. Of course, I travel much for the King of Rohan, and may have seen you anywhere from Pelargir to Bree! Or was it the war?" Eodwine asked. "Do I perhaps know you from the war? I was with the muster of Rohan to Pelennor, and then at the Gates of the Morannon with King Elessar. Were you also in one of those battles?"

Alrik began to move nervously in his seat. He barely knew the man, but yet he wanted to know about his past? Alrik replied irritably, in attempts that the man would leave, "I served under Forlong from Lossarnach. I'm sorry, but you don't look familiar." There was an awkward pause, which was what Alrik was intending. Then lo and behold! comes another man! Alrik was beginning to get quite irritated by all these people. They whispered something between the two of them, clearly it wasn't ment for Alrik's ears, so he didn't pay any attention.

He was about to move down a couple seats, when a woman approached. She began to talk merrily, not with Eodwine, but with the other. Obviously they hadn't seen eachother for a while, and were pleased to have met again. Alrik heard her say "the two of them," and figured he wasn't one of the two, so he began to walk down towards the end. He sat down, away from the commotion and chatting. He began to look frustrated. Where was his food? He had only ordered some eggs.

[Nurumaiel]

"Maercwen, whatever are you doing?" Frodides put her hands on her hips and gazed firmly at the young lassie, who had been sitting by the window and staring out dreamily. "There's a poor man out there who ordered some eggs, quite a few minutes ago. No doubt he's wondering where they've got to."

Maercwen stood, and hastened to the eggs, casting repentant glances towards her mother. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, her tone telling that she was also humiliated. "I was just thinking... what do you think Hearpwine is doing now? And Uncle Liornung? The recent commotion made me recall the days when the Common Room resounded with their music."

"Well, my dear," said Frodides, with a little teasing, tender smile, "I hope when they come again you don't leave their eggs to grow cool, and their stomachs to grow empty. Off with you now."

With the plate of eggs in one hand and the cup of tea in the other, Maercwen took herself out to the Common Room, and drew in a long breath, as if she had just stepped out into the fresh air. She did not mind working in the kitchen with her mother, but she missed the days when, as a little girl, she could sit in the Common Room all the day, if she pleased, and listen to the songs and tales of far-off lands. Now she was only briefly out of the kitchen, to pass a plate to some traveller, or pursue the baby laddie.

She spotted the man sitting in a quieter part of the room. She paused for the briefest moment to survey him, and try to guess what she could from his appearance. She could not hear what tales he might have to tell, but she would be able to see him. He was clearly not from Rohan, and his dark hair led her to guess that he was from Gondor. His clothes were worn and ragged. Perhaps it was from travelling, or perhaps he...

But the poor man's eggs!

Maercwen abruptly broke off her thoughts and hastened to him, hoping that her cheeks were not blushing to testify to her forgetfulness, and fearing that it was otherwise. Yet she had spent many years in the Inn, and did not lose her calm because a plate of eggs had taken some time.

Setting the eggs and tea before him, she spoke in her most courteous, official manner, saying: "Your eggs and tea, sir, and my apologies for the delay."

[littlemanpoet]

"Do you mind if I join the two of you?" asked the new woman. Alrik walked away, clearly wishing to be left alone.

"I would not mind at all," Eodwine said, "except that duty calls me. Forgive me hasty leaving, but I must away to Meduseld." With that he bowed to the man and woman, and joined Falco, Gudryn, and Saeryn; they were ready to go. Harreld and Garreth offered to come along with them as far as their paths led the same way, and Eodwine welcomed their company. Ayeth also joined them, happy to have company as far as she had to go. With that, the party left the Inn, those promising who were able, to return for the evening meal, with any news they might have to share.

[Bêthberry]

I must be getting away as well," spoke up Ruthven, taking a good hard look at the unsocialable man.

"You'd best get used to friendly folk around here, mister. For a man who puts people off, why, he's just more likely to bring 'em on. Some types just can't resist the challenge, you see, of turning people 'round." Alrik stared almost angrily at the old woman but instead of retaliating with a rude outburst, he slightly grinned, shrugged his shoulders, and dug into his eggs.

Ruthven cackled a little to herself and nodded to new woman, who seemed so eager to catch Hama's attention. Silently to herself she wondered what kind of day her friend Bethberry would have.

She caught the Innkeeper busy at her desk, reading over small piles of paper and marking items in a ledge, her hand neatly, with great deliberation, writing in a large leather-bound book. Sometimes, Ruthven thought, her friend sought out that ledger as a way to avoid too much of the chitchat of life in an Inn.

"You'll have a full house today, I warrant," said the grey-haired woman to the Innkeeper.

"That I will, I think. Will you be back at dinner?"

"I shall. I don't think I want to miss Eodwine's enterprising ways with that solemn stranger there."

'If he stays the day. He hasn't said much yet," replied the Innkeeper, watching him from a distance and wondering what journey brought him hither. "But I wonder if Hama has his hands full." Bethberry nodded ever so slightly in the direction of Adu.

Ruthven grinned. "You'll have tales to tell me this evening." With that, she was off, her old cloak wrapped loosely around her and her old feet treading a slow shuffle on the worn wooden floor.

[Boromir88]

"I don't care about meeting anyone." Alrik muttered under his breath, but somehow he got the impression that the inkeeper heard him. "I'm not staying long anyway." Alrik hungrily dug into his eggs and finished them quickly. Then he sat quietly sipping his tea.

Where is he? He's supposed to be here. Durn him, if he makes me wait..I'll...Alrik stuck his hand in the same pocket he stuffed the paper in. "He better get here." he grunted. Alrik waved over the inkeeper and asked her to bring him some more tea. "Hold up," he shouted, "are there any rooms available? I get the feeling I'm going to need to stay the night." The lady continued to study him, and appeared to be debating whether she wanted Alrik as a guest or not. "Well...are there any rooms or not?" he said impatiently. He was beginning to get fed up with the people around here.

[Esgallhugwen]

Luck at last!

Finally some suitable cloths worth walking around in. Ruthven had helped her shovel through the piles and hangers picking out this and that, that would be most suitable for Gudryn.

She couldn't believe some of the things these women left behind. Rich colours everywhere, it was difficult to choose between the blue breeches and the long dark green skirt.

She chose the skirt and a black blouse with silver horses running up the sleeves. In fact the sleeves were long enough that they ended just before her fingertips, but she liked it that way, it covered up her bruises.

Gudryn was silently happy that there were boots inside the closet as well, her luck held out as they fit perfectly.

She blushed profusely as Ruthven told her how pretty she looked, the old lady giggled and sent her on her way back to Eodwine and the other men. But before she reached them Ruthven rushed up to her, "wouldn't want ye to be getting cold out there again, take this".

She held out a fine cloak that had been hidden far behind the other clothes, it was soft to the touch and Gudryn knew it was meant for someone of higher rank then herself.

The young girl took it with many thanks and began to walk back to the group draping it around her shoulders, clasping it together with the fine silver pin it came with.

She met the others at the door and soon with their goodbyes and promises to return for dinner they set out for Meduseld.

~~~~

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry was exasperated by the ways of this strange, morose man. She had not expected him to be so picky about his room, but he was. That in itself increased her suspicion of him, although she did try to remind herself not to be too critical simply because he appeared to be a loner.

First she had chosen a room on the main floor, thinking that with his lame leg and limp he would not want to climb stairs. That room had not satisfied Alrik. He found fault with the blustery wind coming through a loose pane of glass in the window. He found fault with it being too far away from the main hall. The second room she showed him lacked a fireplace, being close to the huge chimney from the kitchen, that did not satisfy him either. The third room had its own fireplace and its window had been newly chinked to keep out the cold. Yet for nigh on to half an hour they had haggled over the price. Bethberry was ready to wish she had never agreed to show him a room, but something about the way he kept checking the paper in his pocket made her think that perhaps they had best keep a watch on him.

The rest of the morning she took up with balancing the ledger and talking with Frodides about the market order. That woman was a marvel, running the kitchen so well, with always fresh food and enough to satisfy many tastes. Then the light rain ruined the laundry and Bethberry had spent a good part of the afternoon helping the chambermaids carry linens and sheets upstairs and down from the spare linen closet. She had, in fact, been surprised late in the afternoon when she came upon Alrik just standing on the landing to his floor. What he had beendoing she could not imagine, and so at first chance she had spoken with Frodides' husband about him. Their second oldest boy was to keep an eye out on this strange man.

Finally, as afternoon wore on into early evening and supper time approached, Bethberry sat down by the fire in the Great Hall, a pot of tea in front of her, her eyes watching the street out the far window, to see if any strangers walked past the Horse. She waited for Ruthven to return, and became impatient wondering what tales Eowdwine and Falco would bring back from the Golden Hall.

[littlemanpoet]

Saeryn had accompanied Eodwine, Falco, and Gudryn as far as Meduseld, then excused herself to run some errands. The three bid her good erranding and went into the King's hall.

They were received as befits a messenger of the king and his friends, and King Eomer was most pleased, as it turned out, to meet one of the Holbytla. Falco Boffin acquitted himself well, especially as he knew Master Meriadoc personally, and some of the Brandybuck relation into the bargain.

The King even proved willing to hear the small matter concerning Gudryn, who was so shy Eodwine thought she might sink into the floor. Eomer had no new errands for Eodwine, commissioning him to see to the matter of Gudryn and this Rand he had spoken of.

Eodwine sought out members of the Hall guards and those who had the care of the roads and byways of Edoras and learned what he could of this ruffian, Rand.

Soon the sun had bent toward evening and it was time to be back to the White Horse for the planned meeting with the others who could make it back. Not a hundred strides shy of the Inn, they came across a horse standing guard over someone lying in the road. It was Saeryn, guarded by her mare! Eodwine lifted her and Falco inspected her face and head with his keener eyes in the fading light.

"Is she-" Gudryn whimpered.

"She lives but does not waken," Falco said. "Looks as if she's taken a fall."

"Let us hope that is the worst of it," Eodwine replied as he picked her up. "Falco, will you see to the mare?"

"I will. You see to the girl then."

Eodwine looked back and saw Gudryn folding and unfolding her hands, looking in all directions, fear growing in her widening eyes.

"Come, lass. The quicker we are in the White Horse, the safer you shall be. Walk beside me and mind the Lady Saeryn's head, will you?"

Gudryn nodded and came up beside Eodwine, laying her hand under Saeryn's head in the crook of Eodwine's arm. She seemed relieved at having something to do besides worry.

The sun had not set when Eodwine and Gudryn entered the Inn; Falco moved on to the stables.

[The Perky Ent]

Erik entered the inn a broken man. After many years of traveling Rohan, he was left with nothing more than his remaining senses. Erik had roamed Rohan for many years, searching for, oddly enough, berries. As an apothecary, he would strive to find new ingredients for potions. After witnessing his father's tragic illness against the hands of a mysterious disease, Erik had thought of nothing but a potion to cure all ailments. Finding nothing but dust for three months, he continued to search for some source of produce. Finally, Erik had discovered a small patch of berries, containing golden triangular-shaped yield. He tested his berries on several of his cuts, and had completely healed him two days later. Convinced they had potential, he took the whole bush and set off for his village. On the way, raiders ambushed him. Acting like berserk dogs, they ravaged him until there was nothing left but Erik’s bare flesh. After ordering them to give him back the berries, the raiders cut his eyes, keeping them from ever seeing again.

After days of wandering in darkness, Erik found a safe village and made it his home for fourteen years. Erik was taken in like a stray dog from a caring family, which clothed him and fed him. After years of living in the village, he left for Edoras, searching for an apothecary job. Guided by his “adopted” son, he set off for Edoras. After days of riding, he finally reached his goal.
“At last! We are here. A thousand thanks, my friend. My the golden sun ever shine over your brow.” Eric said, as he carefully got off his horse and grabbed his cane, his portable guide. “’Tis nothing my friend. I wish, alas, that I could stay, but mother needs me back at home. We fear our shipment of clay will not come. We’ll need to get started on this year’s season early.” After embracing for a second, Erik carefully walked up the hill as his friend got back on his horse and rode away.

It took Erik roughly thirty minutes to find the inn, a five minutes walk. Finally reaching the door, he pushed it back, and smelt the aroma of warm ale and fresh bread. As he walked through the door, he was pushed over by a drunken man dancing around. Getting to his feet a lot better then the intoxicated one, Erik asked “Where can I find the owner of this fine establishment?” The man staggered for a minute, then pointed toward the innkeeper. Being blind, Erik angrily walked away and found what looked like a counter. As he sat, regaining his focus, a warm voice crept up on him from behind. “Hello stranger! Can I help you?”

[Memory of Trees]

Emerisse wouldn't have stood out in a crowd: dark hair and a smooth, heartshaped face are typical in Gondor, are accepted everywhere. Even in fair-haired Rohan, she could be passed over and unremembered like the fallen leaves in winter, one among a hundred thousand. Then why was it that people turned and stared as she passed? Perhaps it was the fierce glint in her blue eyes and the no-nonsense way she carried her sword. Perhaps it was simply the dark, boyish clothing or wind-blown hair. Or perhaps it was the deep pride that her father and grandfather had taught her shining from within that made heads turn. Either way, there was no getting round the fact that Risse was different.

She pulled Windfire to a halt before the building marked White Horse Inn. Leaning forward, Risse traced the gentle curve of the horse's glossy neck lovingly. "Enough, sweet ," she whispered, making Windfire's ears flick back towards her, "You've done your day's work. Go now and rest." Risse slid lightly to the hard-packed ground and took Windfire by the haltar. "C'mon now."

She left the horse with the stablemaster and whickering softly after her. Risse was exhausted and ravenous after the long ride across the mountains and plains that had brough her here. "I only hope," she pleaded, in a sort of prayer, "they have room. It's y cold out here!"

[Carrûn]

A sultry dusk was falling across the plains when the weathered stranger strode into view of the Inn. He came from the Far East this time, skirting through the brown lands from the Sea of Rhûn. Word had reached him that the one who he had simply called "the boy" had been traveling through those largely unknown regions. His reputation with both the pen and song had grown. Awyrgan found him, but the boy was now a man though his age should suggest otherwise. The impish sparkle in his eye had been replaced with a solemn stare and his songs and sketches were of innocence lost.

The man sighed. Why do the young pass so quickly into the old?. He could not help but feel a slight twinge of guilt. The boy was never his by name, but he had always felt a sense of responsibility since he found him curled in a butcher's wagon near Bree. The last time the two had met the child had playfully kicked him in the shins. Now there was a firm handshake in its place. Still, the past was already written and all one could do was move on. So Awyrgan had, just like he always did.

From a distance there was not much to notice about him. Shorter than many of his race, he walked with the stride of a man who could travel at a great pace but was content to lazily stroll. There was evidence of a former spring in his step but it had faded into a steady and persistent plod. His broad frame was covered almost completely in a black cloak that weather had slowly faded into a murky grey. The years had been hard on his face, and scars melded with wrinkles that should be years in the distance. He paused to tighten the laces on a boot and as he bent the gleam of dark, tightly bound chain mail was briefly visible.

As he walked through the darkening streets he hummed softly to himself in ominous tones. The tune had no meter or melody other than the steady, pained beating inside his chest. He chuckled softly as he thought of the tales and titles that followed and preceded him. Awyrgan, the lost Ranger. Unmatched tracker and teller of tales which you would not believe except for the man who was telling them. A swordsman who was just as content to stab his enemies in the back as he was to take them on in direct combat. Others it seems, know me better than I do myself he thought with a bit of irony. Dark, yellow-green eyes shone brightly from beneath his hood, both frightening and alluring as was the wizened smirk on his face. Reaching the door he paused and straightened his back. Well-worn bones and self-treated ligaments popped with solemn satisfaction. Knocking mud off his boots as almost an afterthought he opened the door and glided in with the evening breeze.

The scene that greeted him was a typical bustle of longtime patrons and newcomers. Avoiding the crowd he moved quickly to a corner by the fire. Undoubtedly some marked his movements, but many missed. Seating himself, he straightened his legs and retrieved his pipe. After working the stem over in his mouth for a time he lit it, and leaned back against the wall. Some of the smoke caught in his hood, and his eyes stung. Ignoring the involuntary tear he sat quietly and observed the proceedings.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Faint voices penetrated the heavy fog that was Saeryn's thoughts. She struggled against the phantom enemies invading her vision. She could not escape. Saeryn trembled beneath her covers, shuddering.

"Gudryn, hold her hand. Let her know that she is safe." Saeryn's hand was taken by the girl and she calmed. Waking instantly, she remained still, eyes closed. A door opened smoothly, closing swiftly. A kind but firm voice spoke. "Eodwine, where did you find her?"

"Not far from here, Bethberry. Her horse stood guard. Falco's tending the mare."

"We must keep watch on her. Inn of Lost Lasses we seem indeed to be..."

Saeryn's eyes flicked open, glancing up at the worried faces looking down at her. A mist seemed to cloud them, keeping them from focusing. Her temples throbbing, Saeryn closed her eyes.

"Lass, you must open your eyes for a moment... can you hear me? Come now, it'll be all right..." Gentle fingers felt her head, checking for bruising. A particularly tender spot caused Saeryn's eyes to jet open, a cry passing her lips. As the girl looked at the Innkeeper, she whispered, afraid. "Who are you?"

[Memory of Trees]

Risse pushed forward through the inn door. She gave an involuntary sigh of relief as the warm air reached out to greet her, wrapping around her cloak and hair. I'll begin to thaw in a moment, she thought ruefully. No more cold for me!

The inn was crowded and dim after the white light of the outdoors. When her eyes had adjusted, Risse glanced around the room. Everything seemed right, in place and cheerful. "How lovely here," she murmured, eyes half closed. "I might even get used to Rohan after all." Images of the forests and mountains of her own country flashed across her mind, startlingly clear. A wave of homesickness swept over Risse. No. Don't think of that.

Risse was stirred from her reverie by a cold blast of air as the door opened once more. In a flurry of activity as a group of people entered, she glimpsed a , pale and limp; she heard the voices, low and concerned. Shadowing them, Risse waited until they had the laid out on the floor.

She reached out and touched the sleeve of a young woman bending over the 's still form. "Excuse me," Risse said softly. "But I have some skill at healing. Can I help?"

[littlemanpoet]

"Who are you?" Saeryn whispered fearfully, looking into Bêthberry's face. Gudryn's small hand went to her mouth, her eyes widening. Saeryn's eyes closed and she drifted into an uneasy slumber.

"Lost her memory? Not good," Eodwine said.

"Excuse me, but I have some skill at healing. Can I help?" A lass with dark hair and a smooth, heartshaped face, touched Saeryn's sleeve.

"Only with her bruise, unless you can bring her memory back," Eodwine replied. "Your offer is welcome, I deem. I am Eodwine of the Gap."

"I am Risse. Emerisse. Of Gondor."

Bêthberry said, "Your skills are welcome, Risse of Gondor. Eodwine, bring her to her room."

Eodwine picked her up and followed Bêthberry's lead, Risse of Gondor and Gudryn walking side by side behind Eodwine. When Saeryn had been laid abed, Bêthberry shooed Eodwine out of the room; Gudryn stayed close beside him.

"Lady Bêthberry, I would that you knew somewhat of what I have learned today regarding Gudryn's ruffian."

"My patience has been tried this day, waiting for you to come back and tell me what you have learned. Out with it, man of the Gap!"

Eodwine smiled at the rough speech that covered the look of deep concern on the Innkeeper's face. "This Rand is known by some of the scouts at Meduseld. He lives in the northeastern edge of Rohan, a leader of brigands by all accounts, nigh to the wold. He is a land holder there and is jealous of all his possessions. If any are taken from him, he brooks no quarter in chasing down the thief. I have it from these scouts that we can trust he is on his way to Edoras to retrieve Gudryn." At that, Eodwine put a protective hand around Gudryn's shoulder.

"No wonder the lass is staying so close to you."

"Aye," Eodwine nodded. "I hope Harreld and Garreth return soon. What have you heard of Hama? Has he returned? Do you expect him back?"

[Bêthberry]

Evening always brought greater activity to the Horse, and today was clearly no exception. Yet events were more serious and sombre than they had been for quite some time.

Bethberry had been talking with the blind man, Erik, whom she had calmly escorted to a table, discovering that he had returned to Edoras in hopes of finding work as an apothecary.

"An apothecary," she echoed, wondering if his skills and sense of smell and touch were developed enough to compensate for his blindness. "You might be needing to prove your abilities to those about, before they might trust you. But let us not worry about that now. You will be wanted some warm vittles in your stomach." With that, the Innkeeper had called upon Maercwen to take his order for dinner, but while she was calling to the young girl, a second stranger strode into the Horse, one far less social than the blind apothecary.

Bethberry watched as the wizened man sought out a quiet, warm corner and lit his pipe. She would have gone to him to converse, but her first thoughts had been for the shocking news of the return of Eodwine with Saeryn and Gudryn. Seeing that Saeryn was first taken to a warm room, and watched over by the other orphan warrior lass who had shown up at the door of the Horse, She had listened to Eodwine's news of the brigand Rand.

"I have heard nothing of Hama since this morning, Eodwine. Nor of Saeryn's twin. And have no knowledge of when they were to return. We seem to have come upon some dark deeds here. Please, will you return to the Great Hall, and wait for me? I would wish you to stay, at least until Frodides' husband and son can join us to discuss safety. "But first let me return to the girl. Given these events, I am loathe to leave her with a stranger, even one as willing to help as this young girl. Gudryn, will you wish to talk more with Eodwine?"

With those remarks, Bethberry re-entered Saeryn's room.

"Emerisse of Gondor, I thank you for your offer of help in attending to Saeryn, but I will now watch over her. I am, from old days, myself a healer and can perhaps do something for her. It might as well be best if those faces she had most recently seen were those nearest her."

With that request, Emerisse bowed and withdrew, returning to the Great Hall to seek out Eodwine for what great news he had brought. For her part, Bethberry checked over Saeryn's face, poking gently into bruises, lifting her eyelids to see for bleeding around the eyes, and then softly testing limbs for breaks and swellings. There were none. She then moved swiftly to the kitchen, whispering with Frodides, and bringing back with her the two youngest, who she wished to attend to Saeryn. At this time, what was needed was someone trustworthy who would keep her from falling into a deeper unconsciousness. And someone not frightful to the girl. What peril would the children suggest to an injured memory? None, Bethberry hoped.

The three of them gently roused Saeryn to sitting position, talking her into a dizzy consciousness. "Children," spoke Bethberry, "I charge you with a most important task, as important as any hero knew in our tales of eld."

Wide eyes stared at the Innkeeper clamourously and she hid a smile.

"You must keep Saeryn awake, but by quiet means. You must talk with her and get her to talk with you. She is conscious enough now to attend to you. Do not let her fall back into sleep. Should you hear any disturbances, one of you come to the Great Hall immediately and request Eodwine's presence. There are trolls about, but the fey people will watch over you as you keep your duty, so fear not."

With that, Bethberry slipped out of the room. She would soon join the group in the Great Hall, but for now she matters to attend to herself, and would be curious then to know what talk went round the Great Hall without her present.

~~~

OOC: I would like to remind everyone to read over the rules in The Golden Hall about character types and actitivities that are best suited to Rohan. Remember that the keynote to Tolkien's success in fantasy is plausibility and specific detail. The more specific, unique and original your character is, the better will be the events and activities you can join in as a character with something to offer. Citizens of Edoras can work in many ways, and still be able to visit The White Horse. It need not be limited to serving travellers only and there are many more roles than shieldmaiden that a young woman can play.

Bêthberry
Moderator for Rohan

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Her head pounding, Saeryn listened to the sounds of where she lay. The same gentle voice as before spoke. The door opened and closed softly once more. A delicate touch sent spasms of pain through her. Saeryn flinched, but did not resist the careful inspection. Footsteps grew fainter as the woman left again. On the other side of the wall, the wind picked up. Time? she wondered groggily. She felt the world slip slowly away.

The door opened once more and Bethberry, accompanied by two wide-eyed youngsters, returned. With the children's help, she shifted Saeryn upright.

"You must keep Saeryn awake," she told the children softly, "but by quiet means. You must talk with her and get her to talk with you. She is conscious enough now to attend to you. Do not let her fall back into sleep. Should you hear any disturbances, one of you come to the Great Hall immediately and request Eodwine's presence. There are trolls about, but the fey people will watch over you as you keep your duty, so fear not." Turning, Bethberry slid out of the room.

The children watched the girl, impressed. "Heros..." one whispered to the other in awe. Saeryn groaned as she tried to look about. Her eyes fell on her small companions. "Halflings?" she murmered to herself.

"Halflings?!" responded the older of the two. "No, lady... we are Rohirrim. You are too. Bethberry says we are to stay here with you."

Saeryn grimaced, cradling her face in her hands. "Why are you here?"

The younger one spoke. "Bethberry says there's trolls around." Startled, Saeryn made to move. The sudden motion sent a searing blast behind her eyes; she cried out and fell back against her pillows. Rolling to her side, she vomited over the edge of her bed.

[Memory of Trees]

"Emerisse of Gondor, I thank you for your offer of help in attending to Saeryn, but I will now watch over her. I am, from old days, myself a healer and can perhaps do something for her. It might as well be best if those faces she had most recently seen were those nearest her," the innkeep - Bethberry, the called her - said gently. Nodding, Risse bowed and withdrew to the Great Hall, where she was served dinner and weak ale.

But Risse found it hard to eat. Seeing the hurt and confusion in the young woman's face had stirred the healer in her, a part of herself Risse hadn't thought of in a long time. Again, the voice spoke sharply in her mind, No. Don't think of that. It was too long ago. Finding it easier to listen to the whispers in her head than face the memories, Risse tried to concentrate on the plate of steaming food before her.

As she ate, her attention strayed around the room, studying one stranger and then the next. As her eyes wandered, Risse's gaze was arrested by the old man sitting at the table next to hers. He was turned away from her, and seemed to be searching the floor for something. She watched him as he slowly turned, his fingers brushing every inch of the floor around him without success. As he turned, Risse met his eyes.

Deep, deep blue, the color of sea, the color of sky. Sightless, unfocused eyes of flaming indigo burned into her skull, pulling out the memories she had tried for so long to repress. They came unbidden, ly and painfully clear. So long. So long since I saw eyes that stopped me in my tracks. Blue eyes. Indigo.

The panic rose in her throat to find the memory as raw and fresh and painful as the day it had happened. You would think time would heal, she thought bitterly. Why can't I let go? She closed her eyes until the tears and the roaring in her ears receded.

Risse stood and faced the man, who was still searching the bare floorboards. Gently, she placed a smooth white hand on the old man's shoulder. "Can I help you, sir?" she asked Erik.

[Esgallhugwen]

Oh, he's going to get you good now!

A loathing voice sounded within Gudryn's head, she clenched her eyes shut.

Silence!

She pressed it violently until it fizzled and popped, hissing into nothingness. She opened her eyes to find Saeryn's hand clasped in hers, hoping that she had not been the cause of this mishap.

Gudryn along with Eodwine were shooed out of Saeryn's room after Eodwine related the news to the Innkeeper of Rand. She coughed and followed Eodwine to the Great Hall.

"What am I to do my Lord Eodwine if Rand finds me here?"

He looked down at her and put his arms on both her shoulders, "do not fret, the scouts now know he may show his face to find you, they will keep a look out and alert us of any comings and goings".

She cleared her throat as if to speak but only nodded her head, they walked over to an unoccupied table and ordered some drinks, Gudryn only wanted cider. She coughed a little bit amd took a sip of the hot drink.

Her thin arms set the drink down steadily, she was glad to be gaining her strength so quickly. "M'lord, thank you for your kindness as well as the kindness of your comrades, if there is anything at all that I can do to repay you and your friends, any errands that are in need of doing, I'll see that there done".

[Bêthberry]

Limping a bit on a sore hip and stopping to catch her breath, Ruthven trundled up to the Horse, catching first a glimpse of Falco in the stables.

"Halfling, what be ye doing here? Are ye thinking of helping to train the horses in steeplechase, seeing as your head's about as high as a decent hurdle?" There was a wry wrinkling around her eyes, but her face itself carried narry a grin.

The hobbit bristled as best he could as he pulled himself up to his tallest height.

"Madam," said he, with a solemness that befitted the seriousness of the situation, "it appears you are unacquainted with the ferocious attack on the Lady Saeryn and the worrisome news of ruffians in the neighbourhood and the even more foreboding news that Edoras herself may shortly be under attack from roving bands of briggands." He paused to let the full import of his words sink in to the woman's head.

Ruthven looked at him aghast. "What, has the lass been hurt?"

"I am caring for her mare right now on her behalf as you might have plainly seen had you not been so eager to crack a joke at my noble race's stature." It cannot be said that Folco did not just huff at little at saying this.

"Where is she? Has she been brought to the Horse?" Ruthven did not avail herself of the opportunity to apologise, for all joking was lost with the news of Saeryn's assault.

"Aye, and there's a right passel of strangers there now. We're none of us too safe. But Master Eodwine and I have matters well in hand."

Ruthven stopped herself. The hobbit's last line would, in happier times, have inspired a further round of teasing or at least an earthy insinutation or two, but she thought she'd best allow the little man his self-importance while she went to seek Bethberry.

"Well, I'm not helping chattering here with the likes of you. Are ye finished your work and will ye join me now at the Horse? We'd likely best be rousing the entire community if what ye say is true."

[Nurumaiel]

Motan watched Saeryn with the look of disgust ill-concealed on her face, but Mereflod, giving a gallant little smile, went and patted the young woman on the back until, with a cough and a gasp, she sank back on her pillow. Then Mereflod got down on her hands and knees and began to clean up the mess on the floor, with hardly a blink. She was aware of the importance of the task her mother and Mistress Bethberry had appointed to her, and she was resolved to do her task as well as her mother herself.

"Don't be 'fraid of the trolls," said Motan softly, recovering from her disgust and laying a little hand on Saeryn's arm. "My papa will never let 'em get you. 'E's very big and strong, and 'e's not 'fraid of the trolls. 'E'll make 'is big stallion bite the troll, so 'e will!"

She grasped the blankets and carefully pulled herself on the bed and sat there, looking down at Saeryn with wide eyes. She continued to stare for some time, and then, when Mereflod finished her unpleasant task and came around to the other side of the bed, Motan looked up at her older sister and murmured in a rather loud undertone: "I think this girl been bitten by a mad dog." And then she turned to Saeryn with a very wise face. "There are mad dogs about, and when they bite you they make you get mad, too. They make you very sick."

"Hush, Motan!" said Mereflod. "She hasn't been bitten by a mad dog. She's just sick. And if she had been bitten by a mad dog, you wouldn't tell her all the bad things that would happen to her. That wouldn't keep her quiet, and Mistress Bethberry wants us to keep her quiet."

"Oh," said Motan, and she looked at Saeryn with mournful eyes. "You haven't been bitten by a mad dog?" she inquired dolefully.

"Do you like music?" Mereflod questioned, casting her sister a slightly annoyed look. "I like music. My sister Maercwen knew a man called Hearpwine, and he played a harp and sang. And my uncle Liornung knows how to play the fiddle so beautifully, and he knows the most beautiful songs. My brother Gomen wants to learn how to play music and sing, too. And I think - " and here she lowered her voice to a whisper of conspiracy " - that Maercwen was in love with Hearpwine."

Motan put her hands over her mouth and giggled.

"Mamma says that she wasn't," Mereflod went on, forgetting to whisper, "but that they were just good friends. But I think Mamma was wrong. Maercwen was very sad when Hearpwine left and they were always singing and laughing and talking together. Once they went out of the Inn to go to a singing contest and when they left they were holding hands!"

Though Mereflod and Motan had discussed this in secret with many giggles in the past, that did not keep Motan from gasping with wide, horrified eyes at this truly sinister secret.

"But," said Mereflod, lowering her voice again, "don't tell Mamma I said that." She put her hand in her face and struggled to stifle giggles for some time, and at last she had composed herself, her eyes once again earnest. "Do you like music, Miss Saeryn?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Do you like music, Miss Saeryn?" The question came from the small girl who had unflinchingly cleaned Saeryn's mess. Saeryn looked toward her, eyes focusing on a point an arm's length or so in front of her face. A bitter taste left by the bile filled Saeryn's mouth. As she coughed, the girl brought her some water and helped her to hold it steady.

Music... she thought, taking a deep breath. A faint melody wove through her mind, catching her thoughts and taking her to another world.

A tall man, dark but with a brilliant smile, held a small child aloft. As he sang, the notes slipped from his tongue with ease of practice and grace of talent. He spun the pretty red-headed child through the air, singing her her favorite song. The little girl giggled as the man held her close and whispered, "Little one, not a thing in the world could take you from me."

Mereflod and Motan watched as their charge slipped away. Her eyes remained open, staring well past the contents of the room. The young woman closed her eyes and hummed a few notes. Mereflod called to her.

"Mistress Saeryn, can you hear me? I asked, do you like music."

Saeryn's attention came slowly back to the children. "Music..." she whispered with an out-going breath. She spoke softly, leaning into her pillows. "I..." She trailed off, looking confused.

Seeing her charge's discomfort, Mereflod came to the rescue. "Never mind music. Do you like horses? My papa's got a big stallion that he likes a lot. Do you have a horse?"

Grimacing with pain, Saeryn closed her eyes. She felt sick. Her breath came heavy with each new throb. She could hear her heart beating in her ears. Motan, exasperated, spoke softly to her sister. "Doesn't she know anything?"

[Nurumaiel]

"Hush, now, Motan!" said Mereflod. "I'm sure Miss Saeryn knows many things, but... she's sick right now and can't answer all our questions. Remember that Mistress Bethberry sent us here to watch out after her, not so she will have to answer any questions we put to her."

Mereflod, secretly, was also disappointed about Saeryn's silence, for she had hoped to hear many interesting stories about different people and places, and at any other time she, like Motan, would have been exasperated. But at the moment her feeling of duty lay heavily on her mind, and she kept before her in her mind the ultimate goal... to have Mistress Bethberry kiss her and thank her for all her help. And Mistress Bethberry would do no such thing if they made Miss Saeryn even worse.

"I think," said Motan, in another loud whisper, "that Miss Saeryn is getting sicker."

Mereflod saw that it was true. Miss Saeryn was lacking all colour, and her eyes, when they were open, looked very strange. Her hands were clenched at her sides and her body was slightly contorted, as if she were twisted with pain. Mereflod clambered up onto the bed and sat alongside Motan, and the two of them stared at the young woman for a little while, Motan in a rather awed horror, and Mereflod in deep thought. At last the latter moved up the bed until she was sitting by Saeryn's head, and she began to run her hand gently through the ill girl's hair, remembering how her mother often did the same to her.

Motan, apparently inspired by Mereflod's gentle touch, picked up one of Saeryn's hands and began to pat it, singing in a wee soft voice, high pitched and rather out of tune, but all the more dear for that.

"Hush, my little dearie-o,
fret not in thy sleep.
In thine eye a tear-i-o,
and thou should not weep.
Hush, hush, my own little dear,
hush, hush, for I am here."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn tried desperately to keep hold on reality. As the vibrant colors of her room swirled softly into shades of undefined grey, she strove to keep sight of the two little girls who watched over her. Their shimmering blonde hair turned dull as Saeryn's vision clouded. She felt weak. As her body trembled faintly, Saeryn thanked the Valar that she was not standing, or she would have fallen. She grasped her blankets, sweating. As Mereflod's eyes, the last glimpse Saeryn caught before everything went black, turned panicky, Saeryn whispered. "I... can't see.." She went limp.

Mereflod cried out, heedless of the rule of silence. "Motan, get Master Eodwine!" As her younger sister pelted through the door, Mereflod held Saeryn's hands in her own much smaller ones. "Help is on its way," she crooned, much as her mother did for her when she was ill. "Motan went for help..."

--------------------------------

Eodwine sat with Gudryn at his side. Across the wide table stood Ruthven, a demanding look on her face. Falco stood beside her, as the Innkeeper walked toward them.

"Thrown from her horse, no doubt." thought Eodwine aloud. "But why alone? Where was that scoundrel of a brother I left her in the protection of?"

Ruthven spoke hastily. "Who waits beside the girl? A head wound, you say, and that oughtn't be left alone." Bethberry spoke.

"I know as well as you, Ruthven, that bruised heads should not be unaccompanied. I have left her with Mereflod and Motan. They will alert us if any change shows. What most worries me is not the bruise... that will heal. Her memory, however... she does not recognize us."

Eodwine fell into silence, pondering. He had not much liked the lady's twin, but Saeryn had insisted that family was family, and their business must be dealt with in a timely fashion. He had been loathe to part with the girl, leaving her in the company of the prideful young man, but she had assured him she would return within days. She had been so sure that all would go well and swiftly. "Swiftly," he muttered, "but not at all well."

"What do you mean?" asked Gudryn softly. Eodwine explained his last conversation with the Lady Saeryn. Gudryn trembled. "You do not think that Degas would harm her?"

"I do not know, but she lays now unremembering, and her brother is nowhere to be found. But conclusions should not be drawn lightly..." Eodwine trailed off once again.

[Nurumaiel]

Motan ran on her pattering little feet as fast as she could go, and made straight for the kitchen, wear she flung herself into her mother's skirts and breathed hard for a moment. Frodides looked down in some surprise, but said nothing until she recalled, with a start, that Motan was one of the children Bethberry had sent to watch over a sick girl. She pulled the girl away from her skirts and looked down into the round little face.

"Oh, Mamma, I'm so tirsty," said Motan, in a little gasping voice. "I 'ad to run so 'ard and now I 'ave to go find Mistress Bethberry and tell her someting but I can 'ardly talk 'cause I ran so 'ard to you. Mamma, can I 'ave a glass of water?"

"Did something happen to the girl?" Frodides demanded.

"She's very sick," said Motan, shaking her head solemnly. "I tink she fainted, Mamma."

"Run and tell Bethberry, then, lassie, don't stand here talking to me!" Frodides cried.

"But, Mamma, I'm so tirsty!" Motan wailed, putting her hands to her throat.

"Now, look here," said Frodides, putting a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Go tell Mistress Bethberry right away, and when you've done that you can come back, and I'll have a beautiful glass of cool water waiting for you. But you must hurry."

Motan exaggerated her breathing so she sounded as if she were dying of thirst and exhaustion, but she turned and hurried from the kitchen to the Common Room, where Bethberry sat talking with some other guests. Motan flung herself into Bethberry's skirts much the same way she had done with her mother, and looked up with tragic eyes.

"Mistress... Bethberry," she said, loudly panting between each word, "Mereflod.... wants me... to come... tell... you... Miss.... Saeryn.... fainted!... I tink she fainted."

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine rose from his chair and excused himself, asking for Gudryn to come with him. Bêthberry began to protest, but Eodwine said with a will that he would go see the girl.

"You're not excusing yourself from me,' Falco yelled at Eodwine's receding back as he hopped off his chair and gave chase, his pipe puffing smoke so that, if there had been any in that time and place, those who looked on would have said the hobbit looked like a little steam engine. But there weren't any such things in that time and place, so nobody thought it; but it looked like it anyway.

By the time Falco got to the door of Saeryn's room, Eodwine was sitting on the edge of the bed as Gudryn looked on; a little girl looked up at Eodwine with big eyes sand said,

"She is very ill."

Falco approached the bed. Saeryn looked very, very pale. "The girl could use some compotes or something."

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry had caught the dramatic little Moton in her arms as the youngster delivered her message.

"What's this, lass, you're almost ready to tumble me over, so eager are you to advise me of your message!"

Moton had gulped and put on the widest eyes.

"It is very terrible. She's very sick. She emptied her stomach all over ta floor and now she's white like Katy Goblin in the stories."

Bethberry had supressed a smile, for this news was serious, despite the dramatics of the rendition.

"Here, lass, stay with Ruthven if you will, and have a glass of cider for all your trouble, or ask your Ma for some water. Eodwine..."

But he would have none of her reminders about his place. All raced upstairs to the girl's room, a pack of rabbits looking steadier and more organised than this group.

"Falco, you might be thinking of your stomach all the time, but if she is vomitting, I doubt adding more fuel to the combustion will help."

There they were, arranged around the poor girl's bed, Mereflod by her head on the right, Eodwine on the left, Falco at the foot of her bed, and Bethberry on the right by her hand.

"And did she speak at all?"

Mereflod spoke up proudly, recalling all the little bits of detail and information, and even the nature of the contents which the poor girl threw upon the floor and the smells.

"Yes, yes, and thankful we are for yours and Moton's great skill at tidying up. But has she said anything?"

"I tink she said she couldn't see."

"She couldn't see?" repeated the Innkeeper.

Eodwine broke forth. "Oh worse, and worse! The villain! I shall seek him out and demand justice!"

"Let us determine if we can what the girl has gone through, first," counselled Bethberry. "Let us not be too hasty in our deductions."

Falco moaned! "Hasty! Hasty! What is there not to know! She's lying there dying I say! And not even a last supper will you allow her!"

The Innkeeper sighed. "They are most curious, her symptoms. Vomiting indeed is likely with a head wound, which would impair memory, but blindness too? Let us see if we can rouse the lass." With those words, the Innkeeper dipped a cloth in the basin of water that fortuitously had been placed on the table by Saeryn's bed some posts ago and began gently to wipe the girl's face, her brow, her cheeks, her jaw, her mouth, around her ears, and under her chin, refreshing the cloth every now and then. Saeryn moaned as if being brought out of a deep sleep rather than in pain.

"Saeryn, lass, speak to us. Shake off this enchantment and help us understand how hurt you are. Will there be any end of your injuries? We do not wish to see you lurch from worse to worse to ever more serious."

Bethberry would have preferred not to be so firm, but if her healer's skills were to be of any value, she would have to know just where to start.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

It was raining. The gentle drops wet Saeryn's upturned face. She opened her eyes, blinking at the light and the faces. There were no clouds. What she had temporarily taken for wind was the breathing of a small man. A damp cloth washed her cheeks. A small hand ran its fingers through her hair gently.

"Saeryn, lass, speak to us." Saeryn looked up, wondering. This woman... she had seen her before... and not only at this time... but who was she? "Shake off this enchantment and help us understand how hurt you are. Will there be any end of your injuries? We do not wish to see you lurch from worse to worse to ever more serious."

Saeryn looked from face to face. She spoke hesitantly, but not from pain. She tried to remember why she lay here with such a skull-splitting headache. "I... was dizzy. The world... it seemed to spin away. I thought it was night... I could see and then it turned... the colors went away."

Eodwine spoke up. "She fainted, I shouldn't wonder. Perhaps she moved too fast. Or perhaps that knock on her head gave her a bit of a problem again. She was under when I found her, after all."

Saeryn looked at the man. Who was he? He looked so familiar... like a childhood friend long unseen. Bethberry spoke again. "Saeryn, look at me, dear. Saeryn, can you tell me where it hurts?"

Saeryn shifted, struggling against the veil that clouded her thoughts. It hurt all over! What was this woman asking for? She had fallen... yes! That was it... she could remember the feeling... the incredible rush of air as the ground flew toward her. She could remember her hand... her hand had hurt... it had been caught in something when she fell. She looked down. Her left hand was swollen, slightly bruised. She tried to bend her fingers... it hurt. The room waited in silence. Saeryn silently inspected every limb. She could feel everything. She bent her toes. Her legs were fine. She bent her thoughts on her torso. Her ribs ached. Her chest felt tight, as though she had been kicked. Her shoulder hurt. Yes, she had fallen all right. She could feel air stinging a large scrape on her shoulder... her shirt must have ripped. Her head... that was where it hurt most. A dull ache punctuated every thought. She could feel a throb in her temple each time her heart beat.

"It... I think... I fell... somewhere." A sigh of relief came from Bethberry. "My hand... it hurts. And my chest. And my head... it hurts."

Bethberry looked around, weighing her choices. The girl had been found by her horse. It sounded as though she had suffered a good tossing. She needed to check for more wounds. "Lads, out with you."

"What!?" cried Falco. Saeryn grimaced at the noice. Bethberry spoke patiently.

"The girl hurts. I need to check her for broken bones and that is particularly difficult to do with her laying before us in breeches, boots, shirt, tunic and belt. Out with you, so we can get her more comfortable now that she is awake."

Hurrumphing all the way, Eodwine and Falco left the room to wait outside the door. Carefully, Bethberry removed Saeryn dirt-stained tunic. She instructed Mereflod to pull off her boots. Unlacing Saeryn's torn white shirt, Bethberry marveled at the spreading purple bruise on her left side. Delicately feeling for breaks, Bethberry inspected each rib. Two left Saeryn wincing. "Not broken, lucky for you, m'dear. Bruised though. Small wonder they hurt." She spoke as she would to a younger girl. "And your shoulder... You've torn that up nicely. Come now, we'll need to get that cleaned out or risk infection."

Mereflod watched in awe as Bethberry calmly cleaned and bandaged Saeryn's wounds, talking her through each new prod. Saeryn stared stoically at the ceiling through it all, occasionally speaking. Suddenly she turned her head to face the Innkeeper.

"Bethberry... your name is Bethberry. But... why am I here?"

[Bêthberry]

"You are here, my dear, because two noble fellows found you wounded, hurt and unconscious under your horse. They could not leave you lying where you were; their conscious would not allow it." As Bethberry spoke, she continued to clean and bandage the wounds, swaddling them with soft linens.

Saeryn grimaced slightly as the healer moved her limbs and then grunted in reply to the statement. She had not really meant why was she here, but something more metaphysical. Not what had created her current condition, but what was she doing there in the first place.

Saeryn lay quietly for a bit, listening to the quiet movements of Bethberry's hands and the children's occasional murmers. Behind the door, they could hear humming and hawing from our two heroes. And from the Great Hall rose sounds of laughter, the clinking of cups, the rattling of cutlery, the bustle of evening dinner.

The Saeryn rose up slightly and asked her question again, rephrased this time.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"M'lady... I remember the fall. I could see the ground rushing toward me. But I remember nothing else." Saeryn looked around the room, trying to take everything in through blurry eyes. Her vision was not yet as clear as was normal. She looked down at her dirty black breeches. Her whole left side was caked with mud. Her white shirt was speckled with dirt and blood. She imagined her face was not much better, save where Bethberry had wiped it clean. She wiggled her fingers, grimacing at the tenderness.

"I remember the fall... but there my mind hits a wall. There is nothing before it. What is this place, Bethberry? Why am I here? Why do I know you?" She winced as her sore ribs told her in no uncertain terms to lay back down. Following their impolite command, she relaxed against the extra pillows Bethberry thoughtfully placed behind her. A tear coming to her eye, Saeryn spoke again, bitterly. "I do not know even who I am..."

[Esgallhugwen]

Gudryn could not help but be upset with herself, she could not mend tattered memories or ailing hearts. Her own heart felt empty and cold while her memories were bitter and haunted, she could do nothing to help anybody.

There was a void in her darker then pitch, she could see no hope for light. Gudryn was an empty shell, she breathed and walked but not much else was in her, she knew this now.

After years of being pushed aside, belted and beaten, she had become invisible a life spent in forfeit for servitude to others. Gudryn had known no other path, fear and loathing had kept her going.

What would sustain her now?

Love and trust were as foreign to her as flowers in winter. Her reaction to them was stilted and uncertain and as much as she wanted to know and feel these things the void pulled her further into shadow.

She had followed Eodwine and Falco out of Saeryn's room they hummed and hawed to one another trying to catch snatches of conversation from behind the closed door, strangers sidled past casting an odd or welcoming glance at the forlorn girl, she licked a dry corner of her lip. She had to speak to him.

"My Lord", she called to get Eodwine's attention, he turned to her and she quickly knelt on one knee. Eodwine's mouth parted in question as she began to speak.

"My Lord, you and your comrades have done much for me although you put your life in danger, perhaps the goodness of your heart drives you to good deeds. So I ask again if I can serve you in any way, set me to a task and I shall see it done to the best of my abilities" Her voice bore no emotion as if she spoke from far away.

Falco's pipe hung from his open mouth in surprise, Eodwine stepped forward and lifted Gudryn to her feet a look of bewilderment masking his face. "Why, why would you make such an oath?"

Gudryn looked up to him, "because you have shown me something unknown to me and through your mercy and kindness I have been found wanting. Please Lord Eodwine I know of no other way to repay you", her voice cracked with raw emotion, "please, there is nothing for me here but to serve others!"

I have no other path, all ways seem barred to me.

[littlemanpoet]

Gudryn looked up to Eodwine. "Because you have shown me something unknown to me and through your mercy and kindness I have been found wanting. Please Lord Eodwine I know of no other way to repay you." Her voice cracked with raw emotion. "Please, there is nothing for me here but to serve others!"

Eodwine looked upon Gudryn with pity. He glanced once at Falco, whose brows were raised high; his serious demeanor gave him a comical look; Eodwine smiled. Then he returned his gaze to Gudryn. If this was how she thought, her life until now must have been very dreary and loveless. Eodwine's heart melted.

"Gudryn, I am no lord, just a servant of the king." Her brow furrowed briefly, but she seemed to quickly school herself from showing such sign of her own hidden thought, and her face went blank except for the pleading in her eyes. Eodwine sighed. "Nor can I take you as a servant."

Gudryn's face fell and her large eyes filled with tears.

"Such a thing is not in me," Eodwine continued. "Gudryn, look at me and listen." Her eyes met his and her sorrowful face was plain to see. "Gudryn, child, I used to have a wife and a son and a daughter. We were happy. Then the war came. I left my wife and children and we won the war. But when I returned, I found my home in ruins and my wife and children murdered. Since then I have had no family. I have ridden for the king on endless errands, wandering near and far to escape from the loss of my home and family. I have had no family since, and have sought no wife, for none can replace she whom I loved." He stopped and shook his head ruefully. "I am mad to say what I will say next, but it is in me to say it."

"Lord?" Gudryn asked.

"Gudryn, child," Eodwine said in a voice of mild reproval, "do not call me lord. There is another thing you may call me though. Maybe it is time for me to have a family again. If .... if you will be my adopted daughter, you may call me father."

Gudryn gasped suddenly and her eyes went wide, her hand flying to her mouth.

"Yes, Gudryn, child, I am being rash, but I do not unsay it. Think on it, for it means that you must travel with me on all my errands. And maybe we need to take time to try this thing, if you wish to, and see how well it works. What think you, Gudryn?"

[Esgallhugwen]

These emotional peaks and dives left Gudryn's heart pounding within her chest like a war drum. She was ready to pick up her skirts and fly out of the Inn back into the wild.

But then Eodwine spilled his heart out to her, and she stood dumbstruck for a while her heart pounding within her till it began to ache. She choked back her salty tears and nodded her head at his request to consider this new path.

A Father!

More then she could have ever hoped for in her life, a chance to live a life, a loved girl's life!

She took her hand from her mouth and a small genuine smile played on her lips, she wiped the tears away slightly blushing at the thought of so many people who might be looking at her.

"Yes, I think we should try, I'd love to see the world, I'd love to be your adopted daughter"

Eodwine smiled at her, blushing despite himself. "And don't worry, I know how to ride a horse" she smiled and had an overwhelming urge to hug him.

She gave in and nearly knocked Eodwine off his feet with her frail frame, "thank you" she whispered.

Falco's face broadened into a wide grin "I reckon this calls for a drink!"

[littlemanpoet]

Gudryn nearly knocked Eodwine off his feet with her frail frame. "Thank you," she whispered.

Falco's face broadened into a wide grin "I reckon this calls for a drink!"

Rash, rash, rash. He had never done anything so rash; and at the same time so right. Eodwine's heart swelled, and he returned Gudryn's embrace, kissing her forehead.

"And I thank you, my child," and he noted with pleasure how his name for her had become fact instead of merely friendly. "It has been too long since I had a family." He held her at arm's length, looking into her bashful, giddy, happy face. "Come! Let us eat and drink and give out the news." They began walking down the hall toward the Common room. "And call me Father," Eodwine threw in.

"And call me Uncle Falco!" The hobbit said. "Not that we're any relation, mind you, but we're brothers in battle and that counts for something."

"That it does!" Eodwine crowed. Heads turned as the three came loudly into the Common room, arm in arm. Eyebrows rose.

Just then the door flew open and two big, burly men shouldered in both at the same time, which was quite difficult seeing as they had to fight each other's bulk to manage it. It was, of course, Harreld and Garreth, who saw Eodwine and then Falco right away.

"Have we missed anything?" Garreth asked.

"What's for supper?" Harreld queried.

"Now there's a man after my own heart," Falco grinned at Harreld. "He has his priorities straight."

"We have news, my friends," Eodwine said, and invited the two blacksmiths to sit with them.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"I do not know even who I am..." Bethberry was filled with compassion as tears filled the girl's eyes. How was she to help this girl when she knew so little of her? Saeryn tensed, shifting to lay slightly curled on her side. Injuries are bad enough, she thought, but to not even know where they are from? Why... anything could have happened. Tears slid down her cheeks as Mereflod patted her back. An image appeared before Saeryn's eyes.

A small girl stood at the top of a hill, a little boy beside her with her hand clasped in his. Silently they had watched the storm move in, the tall clouds moving unhurriedly across the plains. The shadows had intrigued them, for whenever a cloud passed under the high sun, it left darkness in its path.

The wind played against their faces, caressing red into their cheeks, tugging loose locks of hair about them. The girl's hair was unbound, falling near to her waist, while the boy's was cut short, skimming his ears. Their features matched. Dressed alike, they would have been hard to tell apart. "It's coming!" she cried, delighted. With a happy laugh, the children tilted their faces to the sky, catching the first rain drops with their tongues.

"Children!" called a tender voice. "It is time to come in. The storm will be on us in a moment." Moving as slowly as would be tolerated, the brother and sister walked down the small path, returning to the warmth of the home at the base of the hill.

Saeryn blinked, wiping the tears away. What in the... she asked herself, trailing mentally into silence. "Bethberry... who... are you? If I cannot know who I am... at least I can know who cares so well for me."

[Bêthberry]

"You have refuge here in The White Horse Inn, young lady. You had visited here and left to do a family errand. Our noble heroes found you injured by your horse. We know not what happened." Bethberry continued to wipe the mud away from Saeryn's face as they talked.

"You, you, you know my name then?" The girl leaned back into the pillows, dizzy.

"You told us it is Saeryn, and so Saeryn we shall call you. I am the innkeeper here."

The young girl tried to mouth the name, but the word failed her as a lump came up in her throat.

"We will get the other young girl, Gudryn, to help your recovery as she says she has some skill also with healing. Perhaps she can get you talking so you recover your memory."

"she,she is here?"

"No, unfortunately the heroes have gathered her to a feast, but she will return. For now you are stuck with my poltices and pills."

Saeryn made a face.

"Tut! You won't heal if you don't take your medicine!" Bethberry deftly applied some ungent to the girl's bruises and cuts and tucked her into clean sheets.

"I'll find some clean clothes for you, while the twins clean your boots. Gudryn will bring them back to you, likely, if she will take on the task of helping me."

With that, Bethberry quietly left the room to seek the Great Hall. The aromas of Frodides' cooking were wafting through the inn and the sound of conversation was rising to meet her. Tragedy and violence and great harm, it seemed, did little to lessen certain appetites.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld and Garreth beamed at Eodwine. Garreth spoke first, as was his wont. "The both of you are lucky, I say! The one has a daughter at long last, the other a father for maybe the first time!"

"'Tis a trial time first," Eodwine hedged, though grinning. "I would not bind Gudryn to me too tightly against her will for the long run, so we shall see."

"Hah!" laughed Garreth. "I see it in the girl's eyes, Master Eodwine, as far as it goes with her, she has a father she'll never let go."

"And an uncle too," Falco reminded the others.

Harreld squinted at Falco skeptically. "You are related to him, Master Falco?" He eyed Eodwine dubiously. "I did not think it possible. How is it, Eodwine, that you haven't pointed ears?"

Falco stood up on his seat. "You big lout! Mine ears ain't as pointed as all that! And I'm only uncle in name, not in blood. For the girl's sake, you ninny!" He sat back down and took a swig from his pint of ale.

"Ninny, is it?" Harreld said in mock indignation. "'Too bad this stout costs a pretty coin, or you'd be wearing it, Master Falco."

"I am too quick for you, you lumbering chunk of big trouble. You'd only get my chair wet." Eodwine giggled in his cup. Gudryn watched the others bicker back and forth, her face alight and her eyes sparkling, but suddenly her face fell.

"I am so happy, my lords, and uncle, and father;" she paused and looked at Eodwine in a mix of amazement and joy and sweet warmth; "but I fear for each of you, for Rand will surely come and do his worst to you, and take me back with him."

"'Tis time to clean the rust off of our swords, Harreld," said Garreth meaningfully, then pulled on his double pint stout.

Harreld wiped the foam from his mustache and set down his own double stout with a thud. "Aye. Maybe this Rand is as big as a cave troll, but if the King has given his blessing to Master Eodwine, he can be counted on to give more aid. He has a good heart and is wise, and will uphold the right."

Garreth looked at Harreld, amazed. "I have never heard you string together so many words at once, save in cursing."

"I do not curse, ever!" Harreld protested. Garreth grinned and slapped Harreld on the shoulder. Then Harreld laughed uproariously with Garreth until they had both their noses buried deep again in their stouts, quaffing largely. Gudryn was mesmerized, watching their gullets rise and fall with their copious quaffing.

Finally, Garreth put his emptied mug down and asked, "What of the young lass whose father lies invalid at home? Has anyone heard from her? Or what of the Lady Saeryn and her brother?"

"I have not heard from the girl," Eodwine replied, "but Saeryn lies abed, injured. We found her not far from the inn, wounded in the head. She does not remember who she is."

"I would see her!" Garreth rose from his chair, ready to launch himself down the hallway toward the girl's room, when Bethberry came through the self same door.

"You shall do no such thing, blacksmith! The girl needs rest. Sit down and I'll see that you have some supper with that drink."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Silver clouds wisped their way across a bright moon as a young man gave a bored sigh. They should have reached the Inn hours ago, but then Odessa had seen something off in the distance and, as usual, insisted upon investigating. Now, as Faleron wanted nothing more than to be home in the White City with his beloved Maerlyn, or to at least be asleep in a warm bed with a high, crackling, and warm fire beside him... he was riding through Rohan upon a finicky mare, with an even more finicky 15-year-old beside him chattering happily. He hid a yawn, nodding occasionally when it seemed that the girl spoke directly to him. Mostly, she was content with his occasional nod and "mhm", but now she seemed to want an actual response.

"Are you listening, Faleron?" she asked, suddenly serious. His eyes were closing. He hoped he would not fall from his horse... Odessa would never let him live it down. He'd known her since she was born, becoming her brother in everything but blood when her own siblings died. He knew that if he fell, she would be certain to relive the moment before his betrothed. He could not wait to return to his pretty young love, but with Desi bringing stories with her, he thought he could dally awhile longer.

"Faleron, I asked if you knew the healing properties of evermind." He looked blankly at her. The stars reflected in the girl's honey brown eyes as they rode on lazily.

"Desi, I do not know a blasted thing about plants, nor do I care to learn. That's your dream, not mine." He regretted the words as soon as they emerged, seeing the hurt look in his charge's eyes. Tears welled as he tried to make it right. "Desi, I'm sorry. I did not mean for it to sound... I... I'm just exhausted, Desi. We've been travelling for weeks, from inn to inn, inquiring everywhere for a healer, a midwife, or even a lame begger whose great grandmother, once removed and twice forgotten, once knew the use of roses in spring-time!"

The pretty young girl looked at her brother with wide eyes. Once she saw that Faleron wasn't truly angry, she smiled her charming little smile at him and began chattering away again. He sank back into his waking dreams, picturing his joyful reunion with Maerlyn. He pictured her flushed cheeks, her blue eyes. Her waves of sandy colored hair. She was beautiful, and he hadn't seen her since they had left.

"Faleron, do you think there will be a healer here? I do so wish that I could heal... it would be just like King Aragorn in the stories." Faleron sighed as Odessa's voice took on a dreamy quality. If he could get her mind away from unobtainable men for a fraction of a second, the long trip would be worth it. It was his greatest desire to see Odessa happy and prosperous, so when she expressed interest in healing and herblore, he'd packed his saddlebags and rode off without question. Now, he regretted not taking a moment to pack cotten for his ears. Odessa's boy-crazy nature was enough to drive a man to drink.

"Faleron... Do you think there will be any handsome men at this inn? Aunt Ioreth says that I should never close my mind to the thought of a good husband." He groaned, closing his eyes. He put all of his faith in the fact that his mare was inclined to stay near Odessa's placid gelding. Finally, she yelled. "Faleron! That's it! It's The White Horse!"

He opened his eyes to see the lamp-lit sign swaying in the breeze. Finally, he thought. Please, Eru, let there be a healer?

Leaving their mounts with the stable-master, Faleron led Odessa into the Inn. Taking a deep breath and praying, he swung the door open, taking a moment to adjust to the light and noise. Odessa pushed past him as he tried to regain his reflexes in time to stop her. Most rudely, he thought, she cried out.

"Is there a healer in the house?"

[Bêthberry]

Despite the worries of the day, Ruthven lost not a moment in cackling at the brave words of the great would-be heroes, Harreld and Garreth, Falco and Eodwine. She laughed so hard that Gudryn gave her the strangest look, for the old woman had not seemed to take fear and concern at her mention of Rand, but had doubled the intensity of her laughter.

"Sooth, Gudryn, you are a clever wench. You know how to wind these lads up."

"What, I? Pray tell what do you mean?" inquired the lass indignitly.

Luckly all were saved from Harreld's and Falco's rising to the defense of the dear newly adopted lass by Garreth's question about Saeryn and the sudden arrival of the Innkeeper, sailing through the same door as he was meaning to exit. Not for the first time was Bethberry thankful she had got rid of the swinging door.

"A meal we must have! Let Frodides prepare stews and ragouts and pies and pastries enough to ward against the imbibing of any amount of ale!" Garreth sputtered but she shoved another tankard in his hand and foam slopped against him, provoking a lonely cry from him at the loss of even a small amount of the golden brew.

"Gudryn, who was it who claimed some skill in healing? Was it you or the other lass? It would appear we shall be busy tonight."

Ruthven interjected, "Of the many means of memory loss, some might be less objectionable than others. And more treatable."

Bethberry looked with some exasperation at her friend. "At a time like this, do we need a comedienne?

"Am I the party to whom you are addressing?" replied Ruthven, her eyes twinkling as she took a sip herself from her tankard.

Bethberry thought it best to ignore her friend in this state and turned to Gudryn. "Lass, can you take time out from celebrating your recent discovery of family to take some clothes to Saeryn?"

Four noble young lads immediately stood up and volunteered in the place of Gudryn, but this only caused Ruthven to hoot and hollar louder and slap her thighs.

At this point, a voice could be heard crying from the front door: "Is there a healer in the house?"

Ruthven could not contain herself. She yelled back, "Nobody here but us chickens." She collapsed in a pile of giddy laughter while black clouds of indignation swept over the twins' faces.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Nobody here but us chickens!" cried the old woman merrily. Odessa looked blankly around before turning to Faleron.

"Faleron..." she whispered. "I don't see any chickens."

At that, he burst out laughing, pulling his companion into a tight hug. "You know that I love you, right Desi?" Confused she assented. He released her as two identical men came over and fought to be the first to bow. As one bowed rather stiffly, and without much bend, the other jabbed him in the stomach.

"Waddaya call that, Garreth? Not a bow, that's for sure. Why ye didn't even bend right!"

Flushing with not particularly hurt pride, Harrold responded. "Quiet you uncultured dolt! That there's an Entish Bow, and a pretty young lass as this deserves one! Is there a problem, m'lady? We've healers a'plenty, although you may not," he shot a glance at the still giggling Ruthven, "want her."

As Odessa eyed the two curiously, Faleron cried out in relief. "'A'plenty', you say? Did you hear that, Desi! They've healers!" He pulled her close and began a bright jig, tugging her until she laughed with him.

Bethberry stepped forward, concerned. "I am a healer. Tell me child, is there a patient to be seen?"

"A patient?" She looked confused again. "Nooo... I just want to learn to heal. Faleron says it's a good idea, and King Elessar is a healer, and Aunt Ioreth speaks most highly of him."

"Highly and at great length," muttered Faleron. Odessa glared at him, prodding the floor blindly with her foot before successfully stamping on his. She continued happily.

"Like I was saying, Faleron..." she glared at him before turning a sweet pout on the Innkeeper. "Aunt Ioreth says she could teach me, but that it would be better to travel. So here I am. Can anybody teach me? I only have a few days before Faleron decides to go back to his looooover." She stuck her tongue out as he elbowed her in the side.

[Esgallhugwen]

Gudryn stared in awe at the people about her, never before had she been in such company as this. She was beginning to feel whole, it made her both terrified and too happy to care surrounded by merry smiles and open hearts.

Not to mention the loose mouths of ones who have drunk too much ale, she thought with a flicker of mirth and shock as Ruthven addressed her as a wench, though clever at that.

But still her stomach turned when the laughter died on the air and the slightest hint of silence crept in, only to her relief was it replaced with more heart felt laughter.

Rand. The seething voice hissed in her ear. You know he's getting closer, you know by the pain in your stomach, each time he's kicked you and beaten you to the ground.

Another roar of laughter as Falco stands upon his seat.

Truly they wont stand long against him, and soon you'll be back at his side. Of course more the likely bleeding at his feet once he's had his way with you.

A wave of nausea slithered up her throat, her stomach convulsed, but she swallowed down hard, her eyes beginning to water.

No. Not now. Not after I've seen this light, this hope. Not after I've found a Father, to call me daughter and love me and above all protect me.

Her hand went to her stomach whilst the other clutched at the seat, her finger nails digging into the wood grain. Bethberry was asking her about healing.

Yes. Now is the time. Back to the shadows with you now, back to the hate. He'll find you, nothing will stop him, not your adopted Father or his comrades, and certainly not your will to live this life.

A tear threatened to leave her eye, and her heart began to pound menacingly within her chest. Is he really close?

The Inn door swung open abruptly, and Gudryn jumped, about to stifle a scream. "Is there a healer in the house?" A young girl, younger then Gudryn called out above the din.

She began to converse with Bethberry about the art of healing with a man standing at her side, he, thank Eru looked nothing like Rand. Gudryn wondered where they hailed from, they looked wealthy and had the same air about them as Saeryn did.

"Father?", Gudryn touched Eodwine's shoulder tentatively and he answered with a smile, "I wish to go see Lady Saeryn now", he nodded and she stood making her way to Saeryn's room.

She knocked on the door first, when there was no reply she entered. The woman on the bed looked like Saeryn, but something different was in her eyes.

"Who are you?" she asked with a hint of apprehension.

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry stood for some time peering at the newcomers, this lad Faleron and the lass Odessa. Like all pampered and wealthy youth, they were shallow and headstrong, somewhat thoughtless and giddy in their immaturity. Now wonder Ioreth had sent them on a journey rather than sit them down in her House of Healing.

"It's healing you want, you're sure now? No other talent or skill or occupation?" Bethberry made a solemn face, one more suited to the depths of profound metaphysics than that of romantic enthusiasm.

"Oh yes," replied Odessa with nary a glance to the Innkeeper's face. "I mean, it is so interesting, gathering all those sweet smelling herbs and flowers and making lovely oils."

"It is a time-consuming occupation, and one which requires a steady head and good memory and patience."

"yes, yes, but it must be so much fun to gather all the things you need."

"Nettles, do you know how to gather nettles? And deadly nightshade? and foxglove and monkshood? So the sting and the poisons affect you not?"

"er, no," replied the lass. "But she is very eager to learn," interjected the boy. She thinks it is preferable to being cooped up all day in a small room."

Bethberry gave in to a silent reflection upon the woman Ioreth, who she knew well. She believed she was beginning to understand the true nature of the matter.

"There are indeed many aspects of the art. And much to learn about the frailties and disabilities and humble qualities of the human body. And yet you are keen? So keen you can learn it all in four days?" Bethberry kept her face at a grave demeanour, full of solemn earnestness.

Odessa nodded yes to every thing, several times over. The Innkeeper turned to the boy.

"And what are you to do while your sister takes up the art of healing? Will you become her apprentice, working at her side?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. I did promise to watch over her." He elbowed her back and gave a distained grimace at her tongue.

"Very well then. I can put you to your first lesson immediately."

"Immediately? No time to eat after a long journey?" questioned the girl.

"yes, some things cannot wait."

"In the back kitchen there hangs some long overalls. Frodides will show you where they are and help you put them on if you require help."

The girl's eyes widened with excitement.

"This is the first step, but one of the most important steps, in ensuring that the healer's herbs and plants grow strong and well."

The boy nodded, a little less enthusiastically than his sister, but still with cheerfulness.

"There is a pile of compost at the back. It must be turned, over and over, to ensure that the slops and vegetable matter decays properly. And, even more important, it must be mixed with nightsoil. Not a large proportion of nightsoil, for too much will risk the spread of illnesses and disease. But you must mix in with fork and shovel the nightsoil, at the proportion of one part nightsoil to nine parts compost. And turn it over and over, to get a good mix in. If you can smell the nightsoil when you are finished, you haven't mixed it thoroughly enough. "

"N-n-nightsoil?" asked Odessa. "What pray tell is that?"

The Innkeeper looked hard at the girl. And then at her brother.

"You get it from the bedpans that the maids have collected from all the rooms. They throw it in a heap at the back of the yard, and it must be dug under. That will be your job, Faleron, after you have carted the right amount to the compost for your sister to add to the heep. Nightsoil is the secret runes of the healer's art, for it tells us many things about the health of humans. Better than reading entrails."

Bethberry stood with nary a smile on her face, but a solemn mask as if she were initiating the two into some arcane secret society.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld snickered into his hand while Garreth grinned and said, "Hear that? Old Bethberry's pulling one over on the lad and lass."

"Shush, you two," said Eodwine, smiling into his mug, "let her have her fun. It looks like they need a lesson and why not the innkeeper be the one to give it to her?"

"Better her than that rag lady Ruthven," Falco murmured, then quaffed loudly from his pint of bitter.

"How can you drink that stuff, Master Falco?" Garreth said. "It would make my tongue lame."

"There'd be no hurt in that," Falco shot back, "seeing as you're so loose with it otherwise."

"And you ain't with yours?" Garreth said, frowning a little.

"Men! Men!" Eodwine waved his free hand to calm the rising ire at the table. "Maybe there is no lassy here for you to impress with your high flown courtesy, but be sure you all could stand to practice it while they're gone."

Harreld gave Eodwine a searing look. "Sounds to me as if the sword is telling the hammer how to smelt."

"No such thing," Eodwine replied. "Friendly advice, that's all."

Eodwine tipped up his mug of golden brown and said no more. Being a father had already changed his thought. He felt protective. He'd already started to, just from seeing Gudryn's weak condition when she had first arrived; but now he was calling himself her adoptive father, and it changed things. In a way it was like stepping out of his riding clothes into something more fitting for around the house. It fit comfortably, more so than he had expected or hoped. Maybe more changes were in order. Maybe it was time to slow down his pace, stop playing King's Messenger, and settle down to something else, be it farming or horse care or even guardship at Meduseld, if there were openings. There were not as many as just after the War, when many who had died in battle needed replacement. Still, he was experienced, and leaders were not as easy to come by as raw recruits. Eodwine sipped his drink again, considering. It would be foolish to make a quick, rash decision twice in one day. There was time before he needed to make such a decision. He sipped again.

And a new thought arose. If his adoption of Gudryn held firm over time, yes, the lass was old enough to be able to make do with just a father; on the other hand, he could see how she could blossom under the care of a mother. No. He did not want to marry again. Maybe a grandmother then. Well, a grandmother was well enough, but there were things only mothers bring to daughters. Maybe he could find an adoptive mother for the lass; it did not mean that he must marry the woman.

"What're you thinking about, so suddenly all quiet?" Falco asked.

"Oh, being a father."

Falco's brow rose. He put down his pint of bitter and lit his pipe, watching Eodwine and considering.

"You need a wife, if you're a father now!" Garreld said.

Eodwine frowned. "Keep your mind to your smelting pit, Garreth Smith. The raising of the lass is my concern, as long as she'll have me as father."

Garreth frowned, but Harreld's eyes closed half way and a grin spread across his face. He whispered something into Garreth's ear; Garreth's expression began to match Harreld''s, and he said, "So who are you thinking about making her mother?"

"Your company is becoming less welcome by the second," Eodwine retorted. He looked over his shoulder. "I wonder what's keeping the lass?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

As the Innkeeper spoke, Faleron became less and less enthused. Quite the opposite of his companion.

"Faleron, do you hear? She'll really teach me to be a healer!" Reading his foster sister's face, Faleron sighed. For as flighty and young as she was, he could tell that she really did want to learn. Even if she had only come by the profession because of her infatuation for the king. Much like she had come by the idea of becoming a rider from her infatuation of that young lord from Rohan who played the flute so well. He sighed again.

"Odessa, lass," he spoke, feeling his money in his pocket. "I think I've left my purse in my saddlebags. Would you go get it for me?"

She looked at him with a cute pout. "Do I have to? Bethberry wants me to go shovel compost."

He held back a smile and a grimace both to once as he shooed her out the door. "Please, Desi. It's important." As she skipped happily back to the stables, Faleron turned to the Innkeeper.

"M'lady," he bowed. "I know what you must be thinking. Spoiled brats from The White City, the both of us. And... chances are you're right, and we've not given you much to go on to think otherwise. But m'lady, I love the girl as my sister, and I can see it in her eyes that this is something that she truly wishes to do, as much as she'll complain when she realizes what you have in store for her." He shared a grin with the woman. "Her aunt knows her as well as any, and would teach her herself, but..." He paused, not sure if he should continue. "Well, m'lady, Ioreth brought up your name and requested, saving your presence, that I should bring Odessa to you, by the longest road. Her thoughts were that if, after you're through with her, beggin' your pardon, Odessa still wants to heal, that her intentions are true."

He pulled his purse from his pockets. "I am prepared to pay a great deal for your tutelage. Although I hadn't exactly planned on... well... joining in." He looked down at his finely woven shirt and breeches. "Perhaps, I ought to change into something more appropriate for your lessons?" Yet again, he sighed. What in the world has she gotten me into now?

[Bêthberry]

"And just what might be so wrong with the rag lady giving lessons here, you half pint of mainly beer?" demanded Ruthven of the halfling.

"Why, what lessons might you be sharin' save the drivin' of a hard bargain?" he retorted with passion as he wiped foam from his upper lip and struck a particularly cantankerous pose.

"The only thing hard about my bargains might be the ground with which your posterioria might be coming face to face," rejoined Ruthven.

"Oh, now you're becoming a knockabout," Falco tittered.

"I'd knock you down if you weren't already so wobbly and about to fall down," sallied the old woman, getting into the spirit of the argument.

"Ruthven! Falco! What time do I have for the likes of you two getting into a bragging match, what with brigands on the lose, ill patrons needing care, orphans come begging for jobs, fatherhood become a popular act, and the general run of the Inn?" With these words of admonision, Bethberry turned back to the earnest young lad.

"So Ioreth thought to pass on the labour to me, did she?"

"Aye, she did, but with the sincerest intent and greatest respect. She knows of your ways with errant lasses, for she heard one minstrel tell of you one night in a song, of how you tried to dissuade a lass in her love for him, when she wasn't even aware 'twas love."

Bethberry laughed at this. "What, has that minstrel Hearpwine been fabling us into tales for the merriment of the White City?"

"You know of him, Innkeeper?"

'Aye, we are well acquainted with him here, aren't we lads and lasses?" With that remark Bethberry smiled teasingly at Maercwen, who blushed furiously and flounced off to the kitchen.

"But, let us return to the difficulty at hand, young man. What on earth can a lass expect to learn in four days? If she is indeed that flighty, she shall need a steadying hand to settle her down, for apprenticing to a healer is a long process, and I've hardly the time for it now, with running the Horse."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"She is flighty, m'lady, but she settles under a firm hand, and she is stubborn as a Dwarf, in her own way. She's decided that this is her dream, and so she will stick with it, if not just to show she can." He glanced around, smelling the late dinner. "Either way, m'am, we do wish for a pair of rooms, adjacent if you have them, and a meal. If that isn't too much?" He looked straight into Bethberry's eyes, pleading. She took pity on him and led him by the elbow to the growing group at the nearby table.

"Eodwine, would you kindly take pity on this poor boy and allow for his company? I must see to these rooms." Smiling, she left, pausing to leave word in the kitchen of another two stomachs to fill.

Faleron looked at the group nervously. "Um... Hello." He said politely. "Would you mind if my sister and I join you?"

[littlemanpoet]

"Eodwine, would you kindly take pity on this poor boy and allow for his company? I must see to these rooms."

"Of course!" he replied. "While you're going that way, could you check on Gudryn if you please? And see how Saeryn is faring?"

Bethberry raised a brow and gave him a meaningful look. "Playing the father to the hilt already? Fear not! I shall see how they fare, as I was about to do that anyway!" She flounced off in high dudgeon.

Harreld and Garreth sniggered in their stouts at Eodwine. "She gave you as good as she gives!" Garreth said.

"Um... Hello," said the new lad. "Would you mind if my sister and I join you?"

"Not at all!" said Falco. "Drinks around the table!"

"Do you not think this here boy's a bit young for a pint?" Harreld asked, peering at the boy doubtfully from underneath one of his hands, which he held floating palm-down over his stout, as if trying to see if the boy stood taller than a pint or not.

The boy didn't notice, for his eyes were glued to the hobbit.

"What's your name again?" Garreth asked.

The boy looked at him in surprise. "Faleron, sir!"

"Never seen a hobbit before?" Falco asked, and stood on his chair. "Well, have yourself a look, then, all three feet and six inches of me!"

"Someone tell that little hobnob to sit down!" cried Ruthven from her table. "Standing on chairs! I never!"

"Sit down yourself!" Falco roared, and sat back down.

"I am, you little varmint, but your ale soused wits are too addled to notice!"

Maercwen brought a tray bearing food and a pint for the boy. "Now now, Lady Ruthven, your tongue is a little bit too loosened as well. Please keep it down a bit."

"You go and cook, and leave the talkin' to me, Maercwen! And keep that Hearpwine off your mind!" Maercwen blushed deeply and scurried back to the kitchen. Harreld and Garreth were sniggering into each other's shoulders by this time. Eodwine took out his pipe and lit it, blowing poor imitations of smoke rings. "No lack of entertainment this night," he commented. "So, Faleron, tell us about yourself, and we'll all take a turn. Maybe my new daughter will be back by the time we've finished our tales."

[Esgallhugwen]

"Who are you?" she asked with a hint of apprehension.

"I am Gudryn, Lady Saeryn, and we've only had the rare chance to meet before your accident", Gudryn sat next to Saeryn, "I've brought you some fresh clothes and another blanket in case you get cold, it is most strange but Bethberry the healer thinks I may be able to help you with your memories".

Saeryn looked up at the girl, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "But we know so little about one another, it may prove difficult", Saeryn looked back down at the ground. Gudryn caught her change in temperment and she stood up to face her.

"I wouldn't worry, I will help you if you like, anything you need ask for me and I'll come straight away"

At this they heard a knock on the door which caused Gudryn to start depsite herself. Bethberry entered in a flurry of skirts, "Eodwine, your father", she looked kindly upon Gudryn, "is asking for you my dear, he also wishes to know how Lady Saeryn is faring"

The healer walked to the far end of the room to retrieve some books piled neatly on an fine oak table, one volume in particular caught Gudryn's eye. In silver pen was scrawled Herblore and the book though bound in fine leather looked exaustingly heavy.

"A new girl here wishes to learn the art of healing" Bethberry answered as if reading her thoughts and turned back around exiting the room. The young lass smiled "If you'd like you can get dressed into these fresh clothes and meet me at the table with my Father, it may be good for you to be among friendly faces with food and refreshing drink in front of you".

Searyn looked at her questioningly "I'll let you think it over", she smiled again and left Saeryn to her own thoughts. She returned to her adoptive Father's side with a new face seated at the table.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Watching the retreating back of she who called herself Gudryn, Saeryn sat up with a wince and looked at the pile of clothing. From this angle, should could not tell what they were, but, she thought, I do like the color. She smiled, pushing back her covers daintily. It would not do to muss the fine bandage-work Bethberry has done on my hand. Slowly, to avoid unnecessary pangs, Saeryn slid her legs out and pivited on her hip, sliding carefully into a seated position with her unshod feet on the floor. She paused, holding her aching head in her hands. For a pretty room, this certainly does feel like a cage. Perhaps Gudryn is right... perhaps once familiar faces will help.

Reaching to the clothes on the table beside her, Saeryn shook out the pretty crimson fabric. A gown, she noticed. She glanced down at her breeches in slight surprise. Why in the world am I wearing men's garb? She thought, although she found no upset with the notion. Pulling off her soiled breeches and unlacing her blouse, Saeryn found a bowl with a soft cloth and some water. Carefully avoiding the bandanges, she cleaned herself slowly, finding every dirt mark and spot of dried blood. Feeling refreshed and ready for adventure, she pulled on the gown. How did they find one to fit so perfectly? she wondered, unaware that it had come from her own bags. Tying the long ribbon that hugged the soft cloth to her waist, Saeryn tried to catch a glimpse of herself in the window. Cringing at the foolish contortion of her aching ribs, she told herself that vanity was wrong anyhow. Leaving the soft slippers on her bed, she walked to the door with a tender limp. Her feet held no injury, but still, it hurt to walk.

As she made her way down the hall, Saeryn took in her views of everything. She walked carefully to avoid splinters. A picture came to her of a small girl playing.

In her left hand was a well-worn stuffed horse. In her right was a doll. She sang tunelessly but sweetly as the two traversed merrily through a world that only she could see. Loud song interrupted her play, making her turn quickly on her bare feet. She cried out, feeling a small splinter enter into the soft part of her toe. She ran softly to the door, seeing it open before her. "Mama," she cried. "I've a spwinter in my toe. Mama it hurts vewy much." Tears ran down her cheeks as the most beautiful woman she had ever seen swept her into her arms.

------------------------

The common room had fallen silent as the soft sounds of unshod running feet met their ears. A communal breath was drawn as the door flew open, revealing Saeryn with her long curls falling beyond her shoulders and her skirts swishing beneath her. Unseeing eyes released silent tears as she stood alone in the doorway.

[littlemanpoet]

Gudryn returned from the hallway and sat down next to Eodwine. He smiled to her and winked.

"You look well and happy." She nodded and smiled back at him. "How is Saeryn?"

Gudryn frowned. "Her memory has not returned." Then her face cleared. "But she is better."

Eodwine nodded. "That is good."

Falco was turning around in his chair, peering at the kitchen door. "What is keeping that Maercwen? I would have another ale! And food!"

"I will go see, if you like, Master Falco," Gudryn offered.

Falco turned to her and his face opened in a big smile. "Uncle Falco to you."

She grinned and flushed. "I will go see, Uncle Falco."

"Thank you very much, niece Gudryn!" He stood on his chair again and bowed deeply. Gudryn giggled as she rose and heard "A seat's for sitting, not standing and bowing on, you preening hobbit!" from Ruthven.

"Haven't you drowned your wits in your ale yet, Ruthven of the rags?" Falco cried.

"I'll rag you!"

Gudryn opened the door to the kitchen, her words lost in the bustle within.

Just then the hall doorway opened. Falco let a retort to Ruthven stall on his lips as his jaw dropped and he stared. Eodwine lifted a brow and followed his gaze. Harreld and Garreth stared dumbly, mouths hanging open, mustaches and beards stained brown with stout. Eodwine rose and faced Lady Saeryn. Gudryn, her message delivered, turned and saw the lass and the attention she was receiving. The reaction of the men caused her to see Saeryn with new eyes; a small half smile came to Gudryn's lips. Saeryn was beautiful, though hampered by bandages and a limp. Eodwine found his voice first.

"'Tis good to see you up and about, Saeryn. Come sit with us."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"'Tis good to see you up and about, Saeryn. Come sit with us."

The words snapped Saeryn out of her short-lived reverie as quickly as would a slap. She looked around, wondering how she had managed to reach the common room so quickly when, last she knew, she had just been standing outside her own door. Attributing it (correctly, as it were) to her head being bruised, she shrugged off the lapse of awareness and met the eyes of Eodwine.

Perhaps I should not be in mixed company so soon... but maybe... maybe they will know who I am. She walked forward flinching a little but hiding it well. Her posture was as excellent as could be expected, and those at the table who knew of her lineage smiled to themselves at her noble bearing. She settled herself, spreading her skirts automatically around her, between Gudryn and Eodwine. Another pounding headache was springing to life behind her eyes, but she chose to ignore it.

The table looked at her, seeming to expect something. Turning a pretty shade of crimson, Saeryn looked down at her hands, cradled gently in her lap, and waited for someone to rescue her.

[littlemanpoet]

"How are you feeling, Saeryn?" Eodwine asked.

"Eazup on the <urp> poor lass, Master Eodwine!" said Garreth. "Do you not she that s-she is just g-gaining her <ulp> bearings?"

Eodwine clicked his tongue. "Right you are, Garreth. So! Let us put her, and the lad Faleron the more at ease by telling a bit about ourselves. How about you, Garreth? Your tongue seems to be mostly untied."

Garreth looked at Eodwine through stout addled eyes, vainly seeking an insult in his words. "I am nod s-sure I like your <ulp> tone."

Harreld copped him one across the head. "You've gone an' addled your wits tryin' to drink as much as me," he said. "He's saying your tongue's loosened by your drink."

"Oh!" Garreth grinned stupidly. "That's well enough then." Then he scowled at Harreld. "I'll th-thank you nod to go clipping me or I'll <urp> hammer you!"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Eodwine said. "Garreth, start us out!"

"Right," said the more loquacious of the twins. "Me, I'm looging for a wife (gulp)." He eyed Saeryn meaningfully, and slightly cross-eyed. "If you know what I mean. Someone margeable - ah - marriger - ah - marriagerble - ah - a lass willing to wed."

Harreld clipped him again. "You dunderhead."

Garreth turned on him ferociouly. "That does it! Call me a Dunlending, will you! Well doesn't that make you a fool, seeing as you're my twin!"

"Dunderhead, you ninny, not Dunlending."

"I never done no lending that I haven't returned! Er, no borrowing that I haven't lent! Er, no lending that I didn't-" Garreth stopped in confusion and stared into his mostly empty ale cup, then raised it. "More ale! More ale!"

"Poor sot," murmured Harreld to the rest of them. "He never could hold his ale as well as me." He winked to Saeryn, dark stout dripping from his beard and onto his tunic.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Upon re-entering, Odessa searched the room for Faleron with tear-bright eyes. Finding him, she ran to him, falling to her knees beside him.

"Oh Faleron, I searched and I searched, and it wasn't there! I can't find it, Faleron."

Wiping her tears with a gentle finger, Faleron looked into Odessa's eyes as he very subtly let his purse slip from his fingers onto the floor, or more accurately, onto Garreth's foot.

"Aye! <urp> Waz this?" Garreth cried out, reaching down under the table. "Some'un's lost 'is purse-- OW!" he yelled, coming up from under the table and nailing his head on it as it passed. "That table wa'n't there before!"

Saeryn looked at the man and wondered what he was like sober... Presumably not as clumsy. She smiled, covering a large yawn with her hand. Faleron carefully pasted a look of surprise on his face as his eyes landed on his "lost" purse.

"That's mine!" he cried. "Look, Desi, it's not lost after all. I must've dropped it by mistake."

"Ye sure it's yers?" Garreth asked with a sidelong glance that only the stout-addled can master. "I don' know ya, but ya look like it might be yers." He seemed to think for a moment before handing it over. "You just don't be spendin' it on no purty ladies late at night, laddie." he added sagely.

"Pretty ladies?" Odessa asked, confused. "How could you spend it on Maerlyn when we're days away from her, Faleron? And surely she's asleep by now."

A deep blush stained Faleron's innocent cheeks as he hastily changed the subject. "Speaking of sleep, lass, it's bed time and past for the both of us. We've been travelling long enough that a warm bed sounds like heaven right now."

"Ay, <urp> I thought I warned ya about them warm beds!" Garreth shouted, jumping to his feet and staring about a foot to the left of Faleron's face.

"Aye, m'lord, and of course you did. You told me that I should beware a warm bed because... uh... cold air is better for sleep and uh... digestion. I'll bear that in mind, and won't you too, Desi?"

"What? I mean... of course. Faleron, I didn't know cold air helped digestion... I should keep that in mind if I'm to heal."

Saeryn tried her best not to burst out laughing. For one thing, she knew it would hurt. For quite another, she thought it was sweet, seeing this young man trying so valiantly to keep the girl, Desi, her name was, innocent. Garreth was staring, much confused, into his drink as Faleron led Odessa toward the beckoning Bethberry.

Garreth looked up, glancing at each person around the table with the look of a man having a revelation. "Cold air <urp> aids degestion?" he asked.

[Esgallhugwen]

"I'm glad you've decided to come and sit with us Saeryn", Gudryn said happily, "and what a beautiful gown, such a lovely shade of crimson too". Saeryn and Gudryn exchanged smiles.

As the introductions began it was nearly becoming difficult for the young lass to keep herself from laughing, but somehow she managed though her face at times blushed from the supressed giggling. "I assure you Lady Saeryn that the twins Harreld and Garreth are much better behaved when they've sobered up, though their fancy towards the Fairer gender I fear will never relent!"

She giggled along with Saeryn, but they had been too loud and Garreth despite having asked a question turned his attention to their mirth. "Eh, what's 'ish <urp> now? What are ye lassies gaggling <urp> giggling 'ere aboot?

The girls pursed their lips together tightly to stop the laughter from exploding in the hall. "We just think it's a shame that you havn't yet found a fair Lady for the both of you" Gudryn replied with a hint of innocence.

"Don't be silly, we'd be wantin' two diff'rent women 'or da both of ush <urp> it'd be no sense 'aving jus da one" Garreth said matter-of-factly drowning his already damp beard in a fresh mug.

Harreld's hand was threatingly close to clapping his brother in the head again but instead he said, "I think you've had your fair share for tonight brother, perhaps it's best to go sleep it off as best you can". Garreth pushed on Harreld to steady himself to his feet.

"Per'aps ye be right", he shambled along the hall nearly toppling over another patron and as he reached the stairs was wondering if he should open his window to cool his room for better digestion. "Well, who shall be next to tell their tale?" Eodwine asked trying to get the girls to stop laughing at Garreth's indulgence.

[littlemanpoet]

"First off," said Harreld, eyeing the hallway with spleen, "I'd like to know what Garreth thinks he's doing going down the boarding hall when he knows he has a home and bed of his own not a five minute walk away."

"I dare say he might not be able to make it that far tonight," offered Falco.

"Then I'll make sure he works an extra hour on the morrow to pay for his extra bed!" Harreld's frown slowly turned to a grin with his thought. "And then I can sneak down here while he's busy, and do some courting!" He eyed Saeryn meaningfully, his smile broadening in what he apparently took to be a dashing look, but with the stout drooled down his chin and beard, made him look like a boy with dirt from the back yard all over his face.

"So treat us to a tale, Harreld!" Eodwine said.

Harreld's eyes popped open. "Me! I'm not the tale teller. That's Garreth."

"Since he is unable," Eodwine remarked, "the task falls to you. Come!" he gestured disarmingly, "tell us how you came to be a blacksmith, if nothing else."

Harreld opened his mouth stupidly, and was about to hem and haw when the Inn door crashed open and one of the guard of the Golden Hall came running to their table.

"Eodwine! News! The man they call Rand is camped just outside of Edoras. We would not let him pass without word from the King; 'twas the only thing to hold him at bay!"

[Bêthberry]

All thoughts of a first lesson in the healing arts were dashed for the time being with the sudden arrival of the messenger from the Golden Hall. Bethberry nodded to Odessa and Faleron to return to the Mead Hall for the present. As for the vainglorious Garreth, Bethberry grabbed the collar of his tunic and somewhat firmly redirected his unsteady steps towards his twin.

"Whoa there, Mishtrish Merrygoround, I am desirous of becoming acquainted with the softer parts of the Horse's linen establishment." Garreth giggled as he contempled his sense of humour. "Hick. Mishtrish Merrygoberry." He giggled again and a supremely idiotic grin took over his face.

"Let me show you the quality of our kitchen linen, Garreth." With that the Innkeeper walked the sodden lad into the kitchen. Frodides looked up from her work, gave Bethberry a knowing nod, and pointed to the large wooden basin beside a barrel of water.

Without ceremony, Bethberry doused Garreth's head into the barrel of water, then lifted it up. He sputtered and blew some of the water off his face. After he had caught his breath, Bethberry dumped his head again into the barrel, then up again, then down. After several bouts of this bracing close encounter of a liquid kind he had not forseen, Garreth seemed somewhat more sobre. Frodides threw him a towel to dry his face.

"Make yourself presentable and ready, Hero, and return to the Mead Hall, for this night you may do real battle."

"Frodides, I need Leofan's and Gomen's help. Can you go to the stables immediately and ask them to close all the shutters on the main floor? Make sure particularly that they are bolted from the inside. Then, can you and Maercwen close the shutters in the rooms on the second floor? I will return to assist you once I have more news from the Guard of the Golden Hall."

"Trouble Mistress Bethberry?"

"It would seem so. Apparently the guards at the gate are holding back this Rand fellow. And he seems none too eager to observe their demand."

"I'm off immediately to Leofan."

"Ask him, please, to join me once the windows are barred." She turned to leave, and then turned back to Frodides. "Best to lock the barrels of ale too. And maybe brew prodigous amounts of coffee and tea. People always wondered why I brought in those strange beans. Now they will know."

With that, Bethberry hurried off to the Mead Hall herself, for more news from this Guard and some quiet conference with Eodwine.

[Nurumaiel]

Gomen leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing rather heavily. His father noticed him and smiled in a kindly manner, saying nothing. Gomen had worked hard the past few days, and if he felt the need to pause for a few moments for a rest, it was well and good... and let him do more than that, too.

"Sit down, lad," said Leofan. "There is not much work to be done at this time, and so you ought to save your strength for when it is needed."

The boy hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should deny his weariness and continue his work, but he saw a look of firmness begin creeping into his father's face, so he sat down. Leofan put his back to one of the stall door and gazed in an absent manner at the ground.

Gomen was quite aware of how hard he had been working, and he thought of what he had gained from it. It gave him a feeling of satisfaction to work hard beside his father for the day, and go to bed knowing that all his duties had been fulfilled, that his parents and Mistress Bethberry would not have as much to worry themselves about. Yet there was still an echo of music in his heart, and he wondered sorrowfully if it would be his lot in life to toil in the stable, when he would rather join his uncle Liornung on the road to sing the days away, or to sit and listen to the songs of the winds and waters.

The stable door opened, and both looked up, expecting to see Maercwen, or one of the other children. A smile broke out on Leofan's face when he saw that it was Frodides, and he went to her and kissed her cheek, faded and rather wrinkled, but to him as fair and smooth as it had been when he had first dared to kiss it. "Fair lady, you honour us with your presence," he said, but his teasing smile quickly faded when he saw the look on her face. "How grave you look, Frodides!" he said. "What is wrong?"

"I couldn't say for certain," she replied, "for I've been in the kitchen most of the day and have not heard much of outside news. But it is enough to know that Bethberry wishes all the shutters closed and bolted. And though she did not mention it, perhaps you might want to make the stable safe, as well. Maercwen and I will be on the second floor bolting the shutters."

"We'll do so right away," said Leofan, his face as serious as his wife's. "Gomen, I'll attend to the stables, and you run to the Inn and find all your brothers and sisters. Hustle them to our room and tell them not to leave. I will join you shortly to close the shutters." He began to move away, but then turned back, and kissed Frodides once again. "And don't be frightened," he said.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Hooded and cloaked, the man walked with a pronounced limp and a seemingly drunken swagger. His shoulders slumped, matching his posture, and giving lie to his alert eyes. In the shadows of the late night none saw his passing as he made his way swiftly, leaving no mark upon the soft earth. He had left his exhausted mount a mile or so away to rest as he trekked the last leg of his journey on foot. Why, he thought, do the shortest trips feel like an Age?

He walked as fast as he could with his adopted gate. Passing a small house, a pair of gleaming eyes met him. Kneeling, he appeased the hungry dog with a piece of dried meat. Tail wagging, the mutt disappeared from his sight. He continued, reaching the inn. Lights glowed through the closed shutters of many windows. He made his way to the door, glancing paranoically behind him. Lifting the handle, he pushed. Glaring at the unmoving door, he whispered curses at those who bar doors against the night. Swift as wind and light as moonlight he had traveled after the encounters, opting for secrecy. It used to be simpler that way, he told himself. Now, his need for anonymity battled with his need for haste.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled his bruised fists and pounded on the doors. Screaming against the pain, he cried for admittance. Silently begging forgiveness of those asleep, he continued to beat on the heavy doors. Quiet tears ran down his pale cheeks and into his scruffy, unshaved beard, as freshly scabbed cuts broke open upon his assault. "You must admit me!" he screamed. His hood fell back to reveal mussed auburn hair that nearly covered a long, purpling bruise. "Please!" Degas screamed. "You must open the doors!"

[littlemanpoet]

"Someone is banging on the door!" cried Falco. "Ready your sword, Eodwine!"

Falco approached the door with a purpose, Eodwine following, sword drawn.

"Do not forget me!" Harreld cried, running after them with a slightly tipsy swagger.

"Nor me!" roared Garreth, wet and dripping from his head halfway down his chest.

"What weapons have you?" Eodwine asked over his shoulder.

The twins stopped and looked at their hands and about their persons: no weapon in sight. Garreth grabbed a stout chair.

"Nay, Garreth! Look to the hearth!" Harreld ran there and grabbed a stout poker and a shovel, handing the latter to his brother. "There! Now any ruffian will have four armed men to deal with." Garreth nodded and the two ran to the door where Falco and Eodwine waited.

Gudryn and Saeryn stood behind the table the six of them had been sitting at, their eyes wide and their slim hands gripping the tops of the chairs before them.

"Open the door, Master Falco," Eodwine ordered, standing before the door, Garreth on his left, Harreld on his right. Falco Boffin pulled back the lock and swung the door open all at once. A hooded figure fell sprawling before them. They were all standing over him in a moment, weapons raised.

"Name yourself!" Falco yelled.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

It would be the halfling, Degas thought with an ironic grin as he made to push himself off the floor with his still bleeding hands. A severly sharp point met the back of his neck, releasing pressure as he fell back to the floor in surprise.

"It is I, Degas of the Folde!" he spoke into the ground, all traces of adopted pose aside, all traces of arrogance gone. "I had... somewhat expected a warmer welcome."

---------------------------------

Looking at his companions, and back toward Saeryn, Eodwine motioned for the men to keep their weapons raised. "You may rise," he said, "but make no sudden move."

Degas sat up to see previously friendly faces leveling weapons at his chest. Shocked, he raised his bloody hands in disbelief. All eyes were on him as he stepped forward.

"Eru be praised," he murmered, making toward Saeryn. "You made it back, dear sister."

"Take no further steps!" cried Garreth somewhat heroically, wielding his shovel. "I'll shovel yer bleedin' head in if you come near to the ladies!"

"Garreth!" reprimanded Eodwine, his sword never moving. "We do not know a single thing for sure." But he did not move to stop the twins from blocking Saeryn from her brother's view.

-----------------------------------------

Saeryn had watched the entire display with amazement, jumping slightly when the man fell to the floor. After he rose, her eyes strayed not to his face, but to the bloody hand prints at his feet. Feeling a small hand rest on hers, she looked into the eyes of Gudryn, smiling slightly. "This man..." she whispered. "Is he your brother?"

[Esgallhugwen]

It had been a long day and it was about to become an even longer night, Rand was coming and they would all pay dearly for it. What have I led these people into? she questioned herself sadly, glancing from face to face as they rushed to see preparations made before the brigands arrival.

She searched the closet where she had found her beautiful clothes, perhaps they had left something else behind, something that could be used, she rummaged under the clothes and something pricked her finger, "ouch!", she grumbled under her breath and pulled the nippy object out.

A small dagger, as if meant for a child's play sword was now held within her hand, and the maker wasn't stingy on the craftsmanship. Two interwined horses reared upwards along the hilt with their silver heads merging out as the guard.

She had no time to admire it's make further, a dreadful pounding came at the door. She jumped and bolted back towards Saeryn moving their chairs backwards in order to hide behind the back rests.

A bloodied man was allowed entry, what a sorry sight, this was not Rand, but the sight of him only made Gudryn more tense. Is he close? My gut tells me he nears.

The twins were soon upon him and would have no better killed him were it not for Eodwine and his cautious manner. Yet, somehow through his ragged appearance he looked familiar...

Gudryn poked her head over the chair "What has happened? Wha..what has happened to you m'Lord?" she asked hesitantly taking pity if he had faced the wrath of Rand and yet wonder and awe that he had survived.

Gudryn turned to Saeryn as she asked in a whisper, "This man... is he your brother?", Gudryn's face slackened with a frown and she gave Saeryn's hand a little squeeze, "No, not mine Lady Saeryn, but yours, your twin brother."

She tried to smile reassuringly, placing the small dagger in her lap. "We had no idea what had happened to him when we found that you had fallen, I'm glad to see he is alive, he could be another piece to your puzzle, can you remember anything?".

[Estelyn Telcontar]

A ghastly apparition entered the Inn - well, it must have entered, since it was definitely inside, but no one had seen how. Strangely, the door had remained closed. It wafted over to one of the tables and dropped a parchment onto it. Then it disappeared again, leaving only a faint wisp of pink haze and a trace of light, flowery perfume in the air.

The guests who were seated at the table stirred from their temporary immobility, thankful that the possible danger had passed. The bravest of them lifted the parchment to the light and read:

The Barrow-Wight invites you to his barrow to celebrate the Barrow-Downs' fifth birthday!

Please come as the ghost of your real life identity - we won't see you completely, only as much or as little as you want to show us. You may describe the real life clothes you are wearing; if you wish, wear a name tag that shows part of your real name. (For safety reasons, please do not reveal your full name here!) Bring your favorite real life foods and drinks; describe the journey you made from your home (again, no full address, please); bring a present for the Wight; entertain us with your real life talent(s) of poetry, music, art, etc. - in short, imagine that this is a Barrow-Downs convention and you finally get to actually meet all of your online friends!

Location: the Wight’s Barrow, temporarily located on the Novices and Newcomers forum

Time: beginning Sunday, May 1, 2005, early in the morning

Food, drinks and entertainment to be provided by all who take part.

Five years is too short a time to post among such excellent and admirable members, but it’s a long life for an internet community! Let’s celebrate the occasion with much joy and merry-making – and with sincere gratitude to The Barrow-Wight, our esteemed founder!

There was a sudden buzz of conversation as the guests pondered the significance of this strange invitation. What was the meaning of "real life"? They could only hope that someone would know...

[Bêthberry]

While Gomen and Leofan were closing the shuttered windows, the Innkeeper and old Ruthven had been making a different kind of round of the White Horse. Early that morn, the two had, at sunrise and before others had woken, made a silent labour in the raised beds of the herb garden at the back of the kitchen. There, inside the wattle fences of the garden squares, the two had picked the herbs best known for their inherent powers against conspiracies of evil doers and invisible fell spirits. The two women had faced west to begin their toil, and then, still facing west, had picked carefully some plants with their fingers and others with silver blades, and some others with iron blades, reciting at times to themselves small verses and chants to appease the spirits of the plants and ensure support in their efforts. They then had braided and wound and tied masterwort and apple pips with birch bark and blackberry vines, making amulets for ensuring safety.

What had Ruthven and Bethberry been about on their rounds? They had tied an amulet and hung it with red wool over over window of the Inn. Over every door they had placed a wreath of ash and blackberry vine. Yet the loud voice crying at the front door, and the creaking of the hinges as Eodwine opened the door, and the cries of the twins' voices had called Bethberry back from her labour.

There, at the entrance, she saw a bloodied Degas appealing to a ring of pointed steel, aimed at him, and the girls hiding behind chairs.

"Eodwine, Falco, stay your weapons. Garreth, Harreld, give way your guard. This is Saeryn's brother, Degas, and he as wounded perhaps as she."

All stood back at the tone of the Innkeeper's words, for although a woman she had a manner of command in her voice which merited listening to.

"Eodwine, close and bar the door again." Leofan and Frodides appeared from the kitchen.

"I thank you for your prompt efforts, Leofan, and Gomen's also. Frodides, I will ask you to brew a large batch of betony tea, for there are wounds to heal and courage to wind up. And add some ranarrweed and white berries to both our milk and ale. Maercwen, will you strew some vervain around the Mead Hall, for let us take comfort from its soothing aroma and courage from our actions." Then the Innkeeper turned to the girls.

"Gudryn, you must have heard and indeed fear the return of this brigand Rand. Here, let me tie around you a small protection." Gudryn come out from behind her chair, looking back at Saeryn questioningly, and submitted to the tying of a cream-coloured linen scarf around her neck. It fell softly, its gentle touch soothing to her skin and calming her. She still felt fear, but no longer frightful incapacity and her stomach settled.

Then, taking Saeryn's hand, Bethberry returned to Degas, remarking upon their similarity of feature.

"This lady has lost her memory, Degas of the Folde, perhaps in the same encounter which bloodied you, perhaps not. Strange matters are afoot, from many directions. Come, sit down and let me check your wounds--Ruthven, a basin of water, please, and you know what poultices--and perhaps you can tell us a tale that this lady cannot." She watched Saeryn carefully as the girl looked closely at Degas.

"Falco, will you keep watch with Garreth and Harreld while Eodwine listens here with me to this tale?"

"Aye," replied Ruthven, "and while I'm at that, I shall bring out the eye of newt and lumpwort root."

"Hush, Ruthven, walls have ears. Let them not know all our potions."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Degas looked his thanks at the innkeeper, wiping his bloody hands on his pant legs. He stumbled to a table, sitting hard.

"May I have some water?" he asked, just as a cup was passed to him. "If Saeryn is hurt, friends, I know not how or when. I saw her last a mile or less from the edge of the city. She had considered her decision to see our brother and rode back, wanting more to stay here than to risk being unable to return. I rode on to settle the business and personal ends of our sister's death." He sighed, eyes over-bright.

Bethberry prodded him gently, mentally marking every bruise. A long one covered his forehead, looking worse than it was. His hands she bound softly as she wiped a trickle of blood from his eyebrow. His nose looked slightly off kilter and proved to be broken, although not too badly. Deftly, she shifted the cartilage back where it should have been and handed him a glass of brandy to quench the pain.

Eodwine prodded for further telling. "So you've no idea what happened to Saeryn? If no, than what is the story of your own wounds?"

Degas made to spit at the floor in distaste, but stopped himself. "My wounds... Two fights." he said with disdain. "The first... a personal matter. There is no need for your fear in that category, but that is why my nose needed fixing, and that was where my knuckles split." With a laugh, he informed them that the other guy looked worse. Nobody laughed in return.

"You said two fights, sir," interrupted Saeryn. "What are the names of your opponents?"

Degas looked in wonder at his twin who did not know his face. "M'lady," he said softly, "I have Fenrir of the Folde to thank for my first encounter. If you remember, he bade me ne'er return. He was unhappy that I saw fit to do so, and unhappier yet that you did not ride with me. The name of my attacker alludes me. Time for formal introductions was brushed slightly aside when he struck me from behind. The lovely purple across my brow is thanks to the rock I hit with the" here he interjected a number of colorful words that the ladies gasped at, "on my back."

Bethberry, finished with her work, looked at Degas. He looked very colorful, but was not hurt too badly. His worst injury was his hands. He would be unable to wield a weapon for some time, with the gauze wrapped about them.

"M'lord, you must tell us what happened. We care not so much for the fight itself... that telling can be heard later, but where is the man with whom you fought? How were the guards unaware of this adventure?"

Degas looked at her and took a drink. "We fought outside the city walls. I was in a hurry... I wanted to find Saeryn. She mustn't stay here. Fenrir is... unhappy. He wants her home to take up her rightful place as a lady of the Folde. He is coming. With him unconcious... I left. I rode hard and fast to get here first. The dolt never did care for riding to the degree that Saeri and I did. He won't reach here until dawn at the soonest. But the second man... we were outside the city. No doubt that no man heard the scuffle. I do not know where he was. I presume he thought that I was trouble. I did not see his belongings in the dark. I tripped over them, and upon standing, he helped me fall a few more times. I lay in an falsely unconcious state. Pride... pride doesn't matter as long as the ladies are safe. He left, and I ran for the city. Nobody saw me enter. We must get the ladies to safety."

[Bêthberry]

Of course, not all the denizens of The White Horse fell upon the telling of this tale. For some, newly arrived, the hectic pace and sudden intrustion of fear, derring-do and fisticuffs, raised dire warnings. Odessa looked at her brother Faleron. This was what Ioreth had sent her here to learn! Healing! Healing! The sacred arts of care and nurture and the secret powers of plants against the wicked of this world. Odessa could not believe her apprenticeship had arrived so quickly. Moving away from the scene of the most recent arrival and action, she whispered to her brother.

"Faleron, I overheard them! I know what I can do! Come, come, Aunt Ioreth will be so pleased with us!"

Faleron for his part was loathe to remove himself from this tale of knuckle-busting and he frowned upon his sister's insistence, shaking his head and nodding his wish to remain. She refused to allow him that satisfaction, pulling upon his sleeve, and drawing him away, out towards the kitchen, stopping on the way to speak with Frodides, and then curtseying their withdrawal, moving quickly out the back door while the faithful cook's back was turned as she answered a call from Ruthven.

At the back, Odessa quickly sought the herb garden. She had often observed her Aunt Ioreth in the early morn in her herbarium and watched her actions. Odessa decided now to imitate those actions. Faleron protested but meekly, remembering the injunction laid upon him, and submitted to his sister's impetuous plans.

The two sought out the raised beds of the herb garden, the wattle fences of which could hide them if they slunk down amid the herbs and plants and shrubs. The sun had set, but what was that to such neophytes? No one had told them that the healing herbs must be harvested at sunrise, under oath of silence, and facing west, where shone the beams of the rising sun. Instead, the last flickering rays of the sunset skimmed their heads and pointed to the perfidious east.

Nor did either child really know the rituals of harvesting herbs. Neither bore silver blade nor iron blade and instead wacked and cut and slashed whatever plant Odessa could remember hearing about. Thus did they raise the ire of the natural world against the protections which Bethberry and Ruthven had called upon. The mort myre fungi in particular protested against their rough feet and the mandrake cried when stepped upon. The snape grass blew back and forth in the wind and whistled a silent news unheard by the two earnest but unfortunate youth.

"There," pronounced Odessa, as she tied into a bruised bundle a bunch of monkshood and snapdragon, wrapping it with nettle instead of blackberry vine. "We have made more amulets to ward off evil. Bethberry will be pleased with us!" Faleron was not so sure, for it had been he who had cut the stinging nettles, at the edge of the herb garden, and he had paid for his efforts. Angry red welts were appearing on his hands and arms.

The two snuck back into the kitchen, removed the small sliver of a knife which they had used to prop open the door, and, skirting around the room, made their way out towards the main hall unobserved. Where Bethberry and Ruthven had hung an amulet, they hung their own amulet, using hemp instead of red wool. Little did they imagine what their efforts could lead to.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine, Falco, Harreld and Garreth seemed oddly quiet for the moment. In sooth, they seemed to be frankly soulless, their eyes glazed and their mouths drooping; which was not entirely out of character for Harreld and Garreth, but it made Eodwine and Falco look positively ridiculous. In point of fact, it seemed that a certain etherish party had pulled their souls from their bodies and was being used by some infastidious subcreator elsewhere for his dubious purposes. As long as Bethberry and others could handle being in two places at once, however, there was little to worry about.

At one point, the word, "cerebriations" slipped from Eodwine's lips.

Others gave him a quizzical stare, then shrugged, and went back to the business of being in an adventure at The White Horse.

At another point, "limerickalickalickal" slipped from Falco's mouth. Now this was getting a bit suspicious, but what was one to do? Perhaps it was best to wait out the etheric party before the four LMPish characters were called upon for more than an astounding belch. And so the evening continued for the nonce.

[Esgallhugwen]

Gudryn looked at the four heroes with a questioning glance, their sudden odd behaviour startled her. Whatever possesed them or dispossesed them, for their eyes were dull but they still breathed though with strange words flowing from their lips, she hoped it would pass before Rand came to claim her.

"What is happening to them?" Gudryn asked, looking around as if to find the answer, which to her dissapointment she could not find.

"Something strange is afoot", Bethberry noted and wisked herself away towards her Herbarium and apothacary to the answer that she seeked. And still the heroes stood their, most Gudryn noted with a hint of disgust had drool collecting on the sides of their gaping mouths.

She could not tell if the others were being affected for they were mulling about in their own business, she seemed to be immune thanks to the cream coloured linen scarf imbued with Bethberry's art. She sat back down in the chair when a loud bang was heard at the door.

She flinched as it came again more insistant this time, the door creaking under the pressure of the unknown force. The third time was followed by the grinding rasp of a hateful voice, "Gudryn!", it roared checking the door again with it's body.

"Gudryn, I know ye be in t'ere sweety, come out so as to not make me hurt any of 'em other ones", there was a pause before the voice hissed, "come out me little child, let me see your pretty face".

The four heroes miraculously snapped out of the spell that had trapped them with eccentric words, and so they came face to face with the aggressor. The door swung open with a sharp snap, gusts of cold wind chilling all to the bone entered the room as the tall immense form stood in the doorway.

He was hooded and cloaked, everyone stood their gaurd waiting. Gudryn could sense something was wrong but was yet unable to place it.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Desi, leave. Now." Faleron spoke. His tone left no room for debate. "Odessa, OUT!" he roared. Staring daggers at him, Odessa ran from the room, not stopping until she had reached her room and blocked the door. She had never before heard that tone in her brother's voice, and it scared her.

Back in the common room, Faleron covertly drew his knives, joining the heroes. Degas backed away, weaponless because of his bandaged hands. He took the hand of each lady, Saeryn and Gudryn, and drew them close. "No fears, ladies," he whispered hoarsely. Saeryn was terrified... if she had ever been in such a situation, her current state of mind did not allow her to know. They waited, the three, behind a table, with Degas for protection as the four heroes... five now... blocked them from view of the loud and frightening stranger. They waited silently for the next move.

[Bêthberry]

Ruthven shook her head. She had thought the door was closed, lock, stock and barrel as the old saying went. Mayhap it wasn't locked after they let in the lad Degas. Fine bunch of heroes they turn out to be. Nonetheless, she moved covertly, taking something out of her pocket and surruptitiously shaking it into one of the tankards in front of her. Then she coughed and wheezed a bit.

The old rag lady rose from her table, wobbly with her stiff bones and creaky joints. Her tankard she held high in her hand. Another tankard appeared in her other hand. She appeared to be tipsier than she really was, which made her appear harmless.

"The Innkeeper is unavailable at this moment. May I take it upon myself to welcome you to our humble Inn. I am Ruthven, the rag lady and secondhand dealer of Edoras. A tankard on the house, if you will?" Ruthven took a gulp from her tankard, leaving foam in a small dribble around her upper lip. She offerred the other tankard to the hooded man.

He stared at her. At least, it appeared he stared at her, given his face was covered by his hood.

"I'm lookin' fer a wee lassie wot's mine," he stated.

"Ye must be tired from all yer searchin. Here, have an ale."

"You silly old bag. Tink 'ye I'll be wanting an ale when the girl's right there in front o' me?" He walked over to Ruthven and knocked the tankard out of her hand, spilling the precious dark brew over his hand, his sleeve, his side.

Ruthven jumped back, out of his way and out of the way of the ale. Twas a great loss, to tamper with such delectable drink as that, but she had had no choice. Now she moved further away from him, making him think she had simply wanted him to drink. Little did the cloaked marauder know she had hoped to spill the ale on him and let Bethberry's potion take its course.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Degas could not understand why the five men were not acting upon this brigand, but it was of no importance. The fact was, this man... this Rand... was here, and he was moving toward the ladies. Unacceptable, he thought, straightening to a height which, suprisingly to himself, matched that of his former attacker. The other man, however, weighed quite a bit more than the lanky youth.

Degas stepped forward, his face set. "Sir, you make demands for that which is no item that you may possess. I highly recommend rephrasing to ask the lady if she desires your company, and should that fail, which I have a strong suspicion it will, given your apparent sensitivity, I recommend even more putting your back to us and taking a long trip far from here."

The young man was almost amazed at his own audacity, but after his rocky past with the near stranger that had beaten him bloody, he was surprised to find that he didn't give a purple pea what anybody thought of his rudeness.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine momentarily smirked at Degas' fine string of words. He raised his sword.

"If you be Rand," Eodwine said, "we know what manner of man you be. You are not welcome here, outlaw. Leave before it goes badly for you. We will not let you have the lass Gudryn, upon our lives."

"Aye," said Falco, raising a short sword none of the others had seen until now.

Harreld and Garreth said nothing, but moved around one to each side of the man Rand, there weapons raised. This Rand was a big man, bigger than the two smiths, but not bigger than both combined.

Rand eyed them each darkly in turn, his huge meaty hands opening and closing as if ready to rip and tear.

"A guard told us of your coming before you broke the door and entered, and he is off to the Golden Hall for more guards. They will be on their way. You will soon be face with large numbers and taken captive to the king's judgement. One last time we say to you," Eodwine raised his voice, "leave before you give new cause for judgement. Now!"

[Esgallhugwen]

"A guard told us of your coming before you broke the door and entered, and he is off to the Golden Hall for more guards. They will be on their way. You will soon be face with large numbers and taken captive to the king's judgement. One last time we say to you," Eodwine raised his voice, "leave before you give new cause for judgement. Now!"

The shady figure of Rand paused for a moment, then he laughed, a cruel terrible thick laugh that would peel the meat from bones if it could. "So's thats howya want it then, eh? Seems there ain't much a stuffed in that there head but straw, eh blondie?"

He stepped forward as the heroes raised what weapons they had to counter any impending blows. "What's mine is mine as tey say".

"I'm not yours any more Rand!", a small but fierce voice spoke out above his chortling.

"There now, you've gone and done it in now, I was a gonna be taking yer back all nice and sweet like, but seems as things are gonin' now I'm gonna have to use some force after all".

He pulled a stained staff out from under his cloak, Gudryn cringed, stained with her own blood, the memories came wailing and clawing back like winter wind against a bolted door. "Seeing as I'm not too fond of talking and you're doing most of it", Rand raised the staff ready to strike Eodwine in the head.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

As the blood-stained staff rose, Saeryn's fear rose with it. She could not understand what this man was doing, ruining her first bit of comfortable belonging. Pure rage replaced her nerves, fizzing through every vein and causing a stream of curses she'd forgotten she knew to run through her head. For a moment, the image of a straw-haired hostler, ruddy cheeked and handsome, ran through her head. She saw a pretty red haired teenage girl throw her arms about his neck and kiss his cheek. Resolving to think about the image later, Saeryn of the Folde did perhaps the stupidest thing of her life: she broke away from the firm hold of her brother and leapt upon the man, Rand.

"No!" she screamed, flying for him.

It was pure surprise more than anything that stopped him. Assuredly it had not been her weight as her slender frame could not have weighed all that much over a hundred pounds. With a swift gesture, Rand slammed the girl away from him and into Degas, looking blankly at her. The room went dead silent as she stood clutching her still tender ribs and breathing heavily. She breathlessly muttered a curse, murmering to her brother. "That really hurt." she whispered as she stared foggily up at the man, waiting to see if her rashness and anger had just gotten her killed.

[littlemanpoet]

[edit: reworked]

Rand tossed the wiry frame of Saeryn back at Degas as if she was no more than a rag doll.

"Now that's scorched it!" Garreth bellowed.

In the time it took him to speak his wrath and raise his poker, Eodwine rushed in and raised his sword. Rand raised his bloody staff to parry Eodwine's blow, and did; but the man of the Eorling was a seasoned warrior, and his skill gave power to his sword, and Rand's staff broke in two.

Garreth charged the ruffian, as did his twin brother from the opposite side of Rand wordlessly. Harreld and Garreth were big men, easily as tall as Rand, and no mean specimens as blacksmiths went, and their weight combined was more than Rand's; but they did not reckon that a man so big could move so quickly. He ducked and their blows that had been intended for his head, careemed into each other's weapons with a clang. However, both twins were good wrestlers, having had each other to practice on often and recently, and their free hands laid strong holds on the rascal; Harreld grabbed a tuft of Rand's hair whilst Garreth had him round the neck.

Eodwine stood back a moment while Harreld and Garreth grappled Rand; he sheathed his sword and then dove, tackling Rand by both legs, receiving a forceful boot in his middle for his efforts.

Falco, standing on a table top, held a mug in his throwing hand, watching the four wrestle, waiting and watching for an opening. He wound up, ready to wing the mug. It was hard to find what he wanted in the mess of limbs flailing and heads rising and lowering. He saw his opening and let loose his mug, arrow-quick, which caught the ruffian right between the eyes.

[bilbo_baggins]

Oin Stealthanvil crept into the Inn just in time to see the scuffle ensue. How interestingly vague the action seemed to be, even though it was so real. Good thing that ruffian was knocked out, or that fight could have soured.

Sitting in a corner, he gathered his cloak about his sturdy frame. It was so hard to sit right in chairs made for humans.

It had been a long time since he had been here, and it still seemed like just a few weeks ago. He wondered if the Innkeeper still remembered him. Ah, she and that Ruthven were wonderful with memories. He couldn't place names on all of the people here. Amazing.

He went and got a small cup of mead, to soothe his throat. It was wonderful to be back.

[littlemanpoet]

Rand went down like a tree and lay still, except for his breathing.

"Good shot, Master Falco!" said Eodwine, wiping his brow, kneeling by the very sizable legs of Rand.

"Ruin of a good mug," Falco replied darkly, and hopped down from the table.

Garreth and Harreld blew out sighs of relief, and Garreth said, "He's a big 'un, no wager."

Before one could say 'I thought he was out', Rand reached up and grabbed Harreld's and Garreth's heads and smacked them together. The twins' eyes went up into their heads and they slumped overtop of the ruffian. With a bellow he pushed them aside and got to his feet, sending Eodwine stumbling back toward Falco, who caught him from catching his head against the table.

"Gudryn, welp, cmere!"

With a quick thanks to Falco, Eodwine jumped to his feet, drew his sword and raised it toward Rand. Now there was fire in the eyes of the Eorlinga.

"Gudryn has claimed me as father. To get her you must win through me, beast."

[Bêthberry]

Ruthven barely had time to see a familiar face saunter in and grab a mug of mead from the shelf outside the kitchen--for who was taking orders at a time like this?--before she watched, stunned, as this Rand fellow threw off the assault. He was a big 'un and it would take more than her potion to bring him down.

She called out to Eodwine, "'Ware, Messenger. Watch him, as very soon he will start to show certain effects from mybrand of fighting."

The twins, a pile of arms and legs all akimbo, looked over at Ruthven with disgust and surprise mingled on their faces, a guffaw ready to echo 'round the hall despite their close encounter with the floor. Degas held Saeryn and both looked with undisguised perplexion upon the rag lady. Gudryn quavered with fear and confusion. Eodwine, much miffed with the intrusion upon his heroic stance, yelled out, "By ogre and boggart, what do you mean, woman? Are ye daft?"

Ruthven chuckled and pointed back towards the brigand.

A huge whelt was forming on his forehead where Falco had landed the blow, and a cut, small but bleeding freely, had been opened. Rand had tried to lift his hand and sleeve to wipe away the blood from his eyes and found his arm was not obeying his command. Instead, it hung at his side, stiff. Not even his fingers could he move or bend, and he began to stagger over to the one side. With his other, unaffected hand, he lifted his arm to inspect the hand. But he misjudged the paralysis and instead swatted his own face with his stiff hand, wiping the fingers all the same in the bleeding wound. He dropped his useless arm and roared even louder, as if sound could be a weapon.

"There's monkshood for you," quietly remarked Ruthven. "And if there's any of that ale left on your hand, you've just rubbed it into the wound. But watch him, Eodwine, for he will be unbalanced now and his movements hard to predict."

Eodwine looked over at Ruthven with a nod. "Remind me to offer to do some weeding for you later, in thanks."

"'Tis Bethberry's garden, not mine. You can thank her. Now, carry on, Eorlingas."

[bilbo_baggins]

Oin got up from his corner and helped the man Eodwine carry the twitching Rand over to a bench by the door, where they could take care of him later.

"What is your name, lad?" Oin asked the man of Rohan. "And what was this lump of garbage after?"

"Oh, he was just making trouble," he replied, "and my name's Eodwine. Yours, master Dwarf?"

"Oin. I am working with my distant cousin, Gimli, in the Glittering Caves. He sent me here on an errand to the King."

"I see."

----

Oin was very glad that he had seen the old lady, (Ruthy, wasn't it? or Ruthen?) and hoped that he would have a good time in Edoras.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn clung to Degas as she caught her breath, watching helplessly as the brigand fell to the floor. She stifled a cry when he reached up but breathed a sigh of relief when the old woman's words proved true. As Eodwine and the newcomer moved Rand's nearly stationary form out of the way, none too carefully, she observed, she calmed.

Degas held his sister close, marvelling that she should not know his face. He looked into eyes matching his own and kept her within his grasp as the fight died before them. His bandaged hands trembled as his rage grew at his own inability to protect the woman-folk. When all was safe, or as safe as could be, he led his twin to an empty seat and sat her down, kneeling before her.

"My lady," he said patiently, "do you know my face?" She shook her head, clutching her aching ribs. In all the fuss, her bandages had come loose. They would need rebinding before she turned in for the night. "Lady Saeryn, I am your brother, Degas of the Folde. Our brother Fenrir rules the land. Our sister..." he stopped, looking around helplessly. Saeryn looked at him in complete disbelief.

"Sir, I do not know what tale you tell, but it is certainly not one of mine. I am no more a lady of the Mark than I am a dancing bear."

Degas' eyes grew wet as he looked around for aid. Most of the group tried valiantly to pretend they could not hear the painful exchange. None knew if the lady would ever regain her memory, but certainly right now she could not be pressed. It would never do for her to deny her history as it was obvious she would.

[Andorilien Amon]

Sitting down in the Inn that truly looked so comfortable, Nolin Silverfist glanced around to see what was what. He was here on an errand of another sort than those who would traverse here. Catching runaways was truly a difficult task.

Finding an undrunk mug of beer, Nolin slowly sipped and began to search the Inn for the one he had to find.

After a few sweeps, where he found nothing but a drunken vagabond on some chairs by the door, and a tearful couple trying to work some sort of painful business out, he decided that he didn't need to hurry. Time will tell with all things, as his father Thranu would say.

He sat down on a bench to wait.

[Bêthberry]

The Innkeeper came running into the Mead Hall, breathless from her efforts to secure the other areas of the White Horse. What she found in the great room was cause for mixed feelings.

It was a tableaux of sorts. In the foreground at centre stage stood Eodwine and the brigand Rand, Eodwine still with his hand on his sword and the brigand frozen in a pose of fury, anger, and unbelief. Garreth and Harreld lay spread at their feet, a sort of carpet defense. To the left, a tender aside of brother and sister. Tears were not enough here to help Saeryn recover her memory. Behind Eodwine stood Gudryn, her hands spread forth as if to grab hold of the man who had sworn to protect her. In her eyes was a wild panic, as if she would flee if she could only find the courage to force her feet to move.

The background told a different tale. There was Ruthven, watching Rand with a certain smug satisfaction spread over her face. She seemed to be watching a dwarf who had walked away from Eodwine and taken a back seat to the adventure. Bethberry thought the dwarf looked familiar but she couldn't be sure as she always found dwarven beards confoundedly like camoflauge. Once or twice she had even mistaken a female for a male dwarf, but that was another story long ago. Then there was a complete stranger sipping beer on the bench. Who are these people to help themselves to the Horse's tipple? she asked herself.

Each person seemed to hold the pose long enough for her to survey the scene and then a sudden bustle of conversation broke forth.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine

Eodwine let go of Rand and turned around, finding Gudryn right behind him looking for all the world like she was ready to run.

"You are safe, Gudryn, as I promised. I will not leave you. Are you well?"

Gudryn's wide eyes took Eodwine in, as if she was desperate to believe his promise. Finally, she nodded once, blinking. "Yes, I am well."

Eodwine put away his sword and gathered her in his arms.

Falco

Falco moved to Harreld and Garreth. "Up, you two louts! Someone must bring word to the guard."

Garreth coughed and rubbed his forehead. "Then get yourself to them. Ow! I have a headache."

Harreld eyed his twin brother. "Your head's too hard, Garreth."

"Me! It's you as always has been the hard headed one!"

Falco threw up his hands. "Useless!" He turned to Eodwine. "Master Eodwine, I go to the guards of the Golden Hall!"

Eodwine nodded, rocking Gudryn in his arms, toussling her hair, something new in his eyes the hobbit had not seen before. As Falco dashed out the front door to the Common Room, he gave brief thought to what it was, and decided that the Eorlinga had been counting time for many years, at loose ends, as it were, and had finally discovered something - someone - worth tying down the tent-ropes for. Maybe even laying new foundations. It was something worth thinking about. For himself, Falco wanted a wife before a daughter, let Eodwine do it the other way around if he liked.

[Bêthberry]

'Ware!' cried out Ruthven. She was the only one still watching Rand.

He had lumbered up and was swaying but had reached out and grabbed Eodwine's sword with his one free hand while Eodwine was holding Gudryn.

Pitching and yawing wildly the brigand looked like a ship tossed up and down by a wild wind atop rolling waves. He didn't seem to know where he was aiming his swings, but swing the sword and his arm he nevertheless did. A lock of Gudryn's hair was sliced and fell to the floor, but miraculously her neck went unscathed. Was a battle still to be played out?

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Hearing Ruthven cry out, Degas swiftly pivoted away from Saeryn, rising in one fluid motion. As a lock of Gudryn's hair hit the floor, he was running. This man had a lot to answer for in Degas' book, and it seemed that the time for reckoning had come.

The ladies cried out, but Degas paid them no heed. He was not worried... the man had gotten a jump on him once, but that was only because he had been preoccupied and less than wary. Now, Degas' teenage years caught up with him. Thin though he was, Degas' was strong. In a wrestling match, he would be toast, but with an enemy that was cocky, careless, and even better, encumbered by a healer's potion, the long hours of sparring with the brother that Degas so longed to beat paid off. Fenrir has insisted that Degas be proficient at hand fighting as well as with a sword, so although the young man would have much preferred a comfortable chair by a warm fire with no company but his harp and some music, he sparred. Now, after so many years of forced training by his overly-cautious, overly-cynical, overly-everything older brother, Degas attacked the man that stood as a danger to everyone present.

Encumbered by his bandaged hands, Degas went for a swift kick instead of a punch. His foot shot out like lightening, coming in contact with the area just below Rand's ribs. The man hit the floor before he realized what had happened. By no means unconcious, Rand made to rise, but the potion made him slow. Degas picked the fallen sword off the floor and pointed it's razor sharp tip to the man's throat.

Breathing heavy, he spoke. "You have entered unbidden, attacked unprovoked, and brought danger to all present. I will not kill you without provocation... it is not my right. It is no man's right..." he murmered, more to himself than anyone. He spoke louder. "If you force me, you will die."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

A swift messenger trotted up to the doors of the inn, leaving his steed to rest there a moment. His errand would not take enough time to bother with stabling, although, come to think of it, his horse could use a drink.

The young man strode through the door, trying to take in everything at once. Apparently he'd missed something big, since a slender youth was holding a very sharp looking sword to the neck of a large and not very nice looking man. He looked around for Bethberry and spotted her immediately. He'd seen her before, although she was unaware. He walked to her, handing her a small and neatly address letter.

"Ma'am, I've been sent to make sure that one Odessa of Minas Tirith receives this letter. Word has it that she's here?"

"Word travles fast, young man, and apparently accurately in this case. I shall see that she receives it."

"Actually... I have orders to deliver it personally." He blushed. "I'm sorry." he added, seeing the slightly impatient look on her face. Of course he wasn't particularly sorry. Bethberry consented, beckoning Faleron to her.

"Faleron, this lad has a letter to be delivered personally to Odessa. Would you be kind enough to see that she gets it?"

--------------------

Odessa had been listening with all her might to the distant sounds of the fight. When her door opened, she jumped to her feet. Seeing the possibly too-familiar face of the messenger, she threw her arms around his neck and almost managed to kiss him. A pointed cough drew her attention to her brother as her cheeks flushed. She stuttered, trying to explain why she would be greeting someone she wasn't supposed to know so exhuberantly, but gave up when she saw that, as long as it didn't happen again, Faleron didn't care.

She opened the letter, reading carefully:

Dearest niece,
I've only just found out that I need
your help at home. There's been an
accidental stabbing (the poor lad's eyes
will never be the same... actually, he'll
never be able to see again, but that's not
the point now, is it?) and even the King
couldn't heal him, not that I would be so
pretentious as to ask the King for a
favor, seeing as how he's the King and
I'm not, but you know that darling, and
I just wanted you to know that you can
finish your studies when you get home,
but that I need you here.
-Ioreth

Odessa looked at Faleron with concern.

"I'm afraid we'll have to go home," he said. "We'll leave first thing in the morning. Pack your bags... I'll go inform the innkeeper. We'll leave early... chances are, nobody will see us go."

[bilbo_baggins]

Amused and slightly embarrased that such outbursts as these happened in the Inn, Oin contemplated the scene. Things had sure changed since he had been here last. Ruffians didn't just walk into Inns back then and after all, hadn't all slimy, good-for-nothings run away after the end of the War? Oh, well, this man Rand had some accounting by the looks of the sharp blade at his neck.

And that strange dwarf that came in and then left suddenly. How funny that he should get a mug of beer when he obviously wasn't known here, judging by the look in the Innkeeper's eye.

And the Innkeeper had come in. She never did have a rest, did she? Always some gruff piece of scum to reprimand and throw out, or some person to collect payment from, or a distraught friend to talk to. However did she manage.

And then a harried-looking messenger came in. Gondorian by the look about him and his build. He said something to the keeper, and then dissappeared down a hall with another man.

Things did pick up so, didn't they? As Oin stroked his long, smooth plaited beard, he began to feel it was time to talk to some old friends here.

[Bêthberry]

"Enough, enough," spoke the Innkeeper, as Degas kicked the brigand and stood over him threateningly. "The guards from the Golden Hall will arrive any minute and to the justice of Edoras must your complaint be taken, Rand."

The man scowled at her and muttered deep oaths under his breath.

"If you have a wrong to be avenged, if you have been tricked and deceived, if you have lost what is rightfully yours, then rather than resort to bullying threats, you must take your case to be ajudicated. But you must give me your word that you will forego all violent means of regress here. We are an inn, where people meet to rest their weary, tired feet and restore their sense of goodness in the day. We are not a tawdry ring for fisticuffs and smackdowns."

Rand glared at her. Had he been well enough, he might have considered spitting in her face.

They were interrupted by a knock, nay, two knocks upon the door. The first was for the guards from the Golden Hall, who surveyed the surroundings and immediately fell to, cuffing Rand and battering his head. Bethberry spoke up against them.

"The man has erred in bringing hostility to the Inn, but do not repeat his offense."

The guards looked with some wonderment at the Innkeeper.

"Treat him civilly, for he will not come to understand his error if you yourselves succumb to the same means of control and persuasion."

"Innkeeper, little do you know..." began one of the guards.

"I know more than you credit me with. Take him by all means and be wary of him. He does not recognise any right but his own might. Yet still he might be made to see the error of his ways if we all show him better ways." Bethberry looked upon the guards with a stern, forbidding glare that broke through their petty shields of authority.

They trundled the brigand off, with gentler hands than they might otherwise have. Hidden behind the door was Falco, not much taller than the serviceberry shrub by the door. He stood there pulling his tunic down and nodding 'here, here' after the guards, but he went unseen by the Innkeeper. Bethberry turned to the second messenger.

"Odessa, Faleron, be off with you to Minas Tirith. And listen to your aunt Ioreth next time before you run off on a cockamanie adventure."

Spying Eowdwine with Guthryn, Bethberry sank down in a chair beside Ruthven and the dwarf Oin. Not a beer did she crave, but a pot of tea, and some fresh berries with biscuits and cream. Something to lighten the mood, hers no less than that of the others.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine released Gudryn from his embrace and kissing her forehead once more, smiled at her.

"Shall we sit with Bêthberry and the others?"

Gudryn nodded. They went over to the table and took two empty seats. Eodwine passed his hand through his blonde locks, then rested his chin on his elbow, eyeing Bêthberry.

"I am still trying to figure out how my sword got from inside my sheath, to lying on the floor, but no matter." He winked and grinned. Bêthberry kept a straight face, waiting for more she somehow expected to come from Eodwine.

Falco pulled up a chair and sat at table. "Mistress Innkeeper," he said, "you are a lady of vast resources. What was it that caused the ruffian to lose his limbs?"

"Some things must remain secrets, Master Boffin, or they could not be brought to bear another day." She turned to Eodwine. "There is something else on your mind, Master Eodwine."

"Aye, that there is." He took his chin off his hand and looked at Gudryn. "You see, I have a daughter and I need a wife."

Falco looked at Eodwine out of the corner of his eye, and then askance at Bêthberry. "You're not about to propose, are you?"

Eodwine's eyes widened. "Propose! Well, I am going to make a proposal, but not of the kind you are apparently thinking of!"

Harreld and Garreth had finally picked themselves up off the floor and gained their balance. They had been listening to the exchange.

"Out with it, Master Eodwine!" Garreth said loudly. "Are you all of a sudden putting yourself in competition with me?"

Harreld hit Garreth open handed across the pate. "Don't you mean in competition with both of us?"

"You're no threat, little brother," Garreth intoned.

"No threat! I ought to..."

"Boys! Boys!" cried Ruthven. "Pipe down and let the man have his say!"

"For once I agree with you," Falco said, looking to Eodwine and thus avoiding the scathing glare of the rag lady.

"Well, Bêthberry, I was wondering if you could help me find a wife."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Feeling freshly full of guilt from a light, but nevertheless effective, scolding from Bethberry, Degas sheathed his temper in the same motion as with the sword. Handing it with thanks to Eodwine, he caught the most recent bit of conversation... Eodwine after a wife. Still breathing heavily, he rasped a tease.

"Well, I know I've not been here long, but I think you and Ruthven might make quite the pair."

"Quite the pair indeed!" choked Falco, spraying his drink.

"I hate to interrupt," he said with a frown, "but I'm afraid we are not out of the action just yet... My brother is on his way to bring our sister home, and she has yet to realize that I am even her twin. He will take her with no words against it, for he will simply see it as her being obstenent, and I fear for him... she is small, but knows many things, if not her own family." He looked sadly to her, pleading to his companions silently for help.

[littlemanpoet]

Garreth spoke up. "It's true, Saeryn lass. You're his sister. Twin, even."

Harreld nodded. "That's the long and short of it."

Saeryn looked from one to the other of the twin smith brothers in confusion.

"At least," said Falco, licking the foam off his lips from his spewed ale, "that's what you told us afore he got here."

Saeryn looked to Eodwine as if for verification. He nodded. "So you told us." Then he turned to Degas. "And thank you for the suggestion of Ruthven, Degas." He smiled wryly. "But I fear she is too young and flighty for me."

Falco laughed. But the group waited for Saeryn's response to the verification of the group.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn looked from face to face with a softly nervous look of confusion.

"I..." Her eyes clouded lightly as she glanced into a world invisible to her friends.

The young man before her took her by the arm and they ran together through the tall grass, laughing softly and stealing looks behind them. The only sounds were the light breeze through the fields and of birds singing their praise of the afternoon sun. A pair of horses came into view, rich brown coats glimmering in the light. They stopped and he helped her mount, bareback, onto a fiesty mare. The horse quieted immediately and the lanky youth mounted his own gelding. Immediately they took off across the plains screeching their enjoyment. The wind buffeted their locks, strewing pieces of shining auburn hair across their matching hazel eyes.

"You'll never win, Degas!" she cried, glancing behind her. They reached the end and dismounted at the same time, gasping for breath.

"I let you win." he stated with a laugh, knowing that his twin would always beat him in races.

"Of course you did, brother... of course." She winked as she took her mare by the reins and guided her back to the stables.

The group watched with concern as her attention shifted away from them. Slowly, a look of dawning comprehension crossed her face as she blinked once... twice... and her eyes met her brother's.

"Degas...?" He nodded once, a nervous smile flickering at the corners of his lips. She paused, uncertain, before a flood of memories knocked her unconscious to the floor.

"What in the-" Degas cried out in a series of colorful curses. "But she knew me! What just...?" He trailed off helpless, as he knelt beside Saeryn. Her eyes flickered open and rested on his face.

"Degas!" she cried, as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

--------------------------

A few tear-filled moments later found the siblings seated close upon a bench at the table where he had found her so few nights before.

"Saeryn... Fenrir is coming. He wants you home."

She looked at Degas blankly. "Who is Fenrir?"

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry's side was sore. Not greatly aching, just sore. First, from laughing hard, but inside, where few could see how much she laughed. And, second, from a mighty poking of the elbow of Ruthven over this issue of finding Eodwine a wife.

Yet their demeanour was polite, caring, respectful, as the Saeryn and Degas worked through their patter of loss and recovery. Once the tears had flown and the embraces wound their way, the two felt able to address Eodwine's question, but not without giddy faces pointed at Falco. For his part, the halfling could not quite figure out where the merriment ensuded, for he was not one to jest lightly with the ladies, although, if asked, he would be hard put to acknowledge Ruthven as a lady.

"You ask me if I could help you find a wife, Eodwine, and well you might, for most folk here in Edoras work the matter the other way round, starting first with the wife and then following up with the daughter."

Now a man of the court and society such as Eodwine could never rightly be said to blush, but there was a pinish tinge around Eodwine' s cheeks that made a rare appearance. Was the woman admonishing him, he wondered? He gave her a blank stare as if to ignore her comment.

"Mayhap you know not of some of the rites of the common folk here, Master Eodwine," intoned Ruthven.

"I will ask you kindly to refrain from any rough or coarse insinuations, Mistress Rag-Lady," he retorted, putting a high tone of pique in his voice and allowing himself just a bit to look down his nose at her.

Ruthven guffawed and Falco hit his tooth upon the edge of his mug, his hand was shaking so hard with merriment. He rubbed it hard, with his hand, feeling it to see if it was cracked.

'Oh, we've ways and means of courting that the high folks of the Meduseld might not know of," continued the old woman. "We don't just hop into these arrangements handily like some think, after the manner of The White Lady and her Prince."

"Hush, Ruthven," cautioned Bethberry. "Let us not prejudge Eodwine." She turned to look a the man.

"What business do you think a healer or Innkeeper might have with matchmaking, Master Eodwine? Is it a potion you desire? Or a midnight ritual to prepare yourself for the proceedings? Or lessons in the gentle arts of persuasion and attention?"

At this point it could not be denied that the corners of her mouth were turned up in full grin, yet her face was full of a sombre seriousness. It there were all these matches to be made, why, she might have to put a different shingle out beside that of the Horse.

[Esgallhugwen]

Her face was absolutely blanched from all the emotion, which was uncommon considering the amount of blood that usually rushes to ones face in such predicaments. Gudryn wasn't prone to faint, but a wife for Eodwine? A mother? Had she truly been blessed by the Valar?

She sat with her hands in her lap, the small Rohirric dagger tied about her waist with a thin leather belt. She smiled, thoroughly pleased with the events unfolding before her rich brown eyes.

All but one. Saeryn was recovering but the issue of Fenrir and the way in which he was bound to take her back would not do at all.

Gudryn's small voice piped up though the conversation was already leading elsewhere, "we must convince Fenrir of what has happened to you Saeryn, we must". The crowd looked at her and she blushed having drawn such attention to her self.

[littlemanpoet]

"Saeryn," said Degas, "Fenrir is coming. He wants you home."

She looked at Degas blankly. "Who is Fenrir?"

Degas gave her a look of exasperation, but sighed and kept his calm. He proceeded in a quiet voice to try to explain to her who Fenrir was.

Bethberry answererd Eodwine on the other side of the table, suggesting that he had gone about building a family backward. Ruthven couldn't resist some rogueish ribbing, which the traitorious Falco thoroughly enjoyed at Eodwine's expense. Bethberry spoke up again.

"What business do you think a healer or Innkeeper might have with matchmaking, Master Eodwine? Is it a potion you desire? Or a midnight ritual to prepare yourself for the proceedings? Or lessons in the gentle arts of persuasion and attention?" Her mouth was grinning, but Eodwine, imagining that he could not see her mouth, saw that she was serious in the eye.

He opened his mouth to come to his own defense when Gudryn, who sat between Eodwine and Saeryn, and had been tracking both conversations, spoke up. "We must convince Fenrir of what has happened to you Saeryn, we must".

All eyes turned to her and she blushed deeply. "Then we shall do our best to tell him the story of what has passed here," Eodwine said, looking at her seriously.

She looked up at him gratefully, but still seemed embarassed. He reached around her shoulder and drew her to him in a fatherly one-handed embrace. She sank her head into his shoulder. He turned then to face Bethberry.

"My thought was that an Innkeeper knows the folk of Edoras as well as anyone, and better than most. I had no thought for potions or rituals or arts. I seek a woman who can love my daughter and me and would be willing to make of the three of us a new family, given time for proper courting. As for the ways of the Golden Hall of Meduseld, you forget that most of my time is spent on a horse on the road, and whereas I can speak with the haughtiness of the high born on a whim, it is by no means what I am. I was a farmer before I was the King's errand boy." He grinned. "So do you know of any lady that would be willing or even feign interest in a wifeless father?" He looked again at Gudryn with a warm smile.

[Bêthberry]

For all her brash, rough humour, Ruthven knew when to cease a line of joking and let quiet contemplation work its way into the conversation. She turned away from Bethberry and Eodwine and towards Falco.

*Cracked your tooth have you on your mug?" she inquired. "Let's take a look at ye."

Without much ado, she picked him up and placed him on a high stool and without granting so much as a by your leave to his sputterings, she pulled down on his jaw and lifted his lips to look at the tooth.

"Tisn't cracked, nor even chipped. Likely just gave it a jolt to wake up your jaw bone, lad." For all her forward nature, she meant her actions kindly, and listened to what Falco had to say.

A hush had fallen over the crowd as Degas strove to acquaint Saeryn with Fenrir and her family. All were too polite to enquire why the man must take her back, yet everyone was eager, as is the manner of people in small communities, to know why he was bound to take her back, and how he would accept a lady with no memory of him.

Bethberry took advantage of the diversion which placed the young people in the centre of attention and turned her attention back to Eodwine. His reply to her had justly met her earlier comments and those of Ruthven. The man deserved a thoughtful reply.

"We have not had a wedding here in Edoras since the first rush of marriages after the War of the Ring. Too few of our men returned and many a lass has looked to a life of penury and diminished expectations without a husband and confidante and bread earner. "

Bethberry watched as Eodwine nodded, silently, and Gudryn's face grew sombre.

"What kind of husband do you think you would make, Eodwine, that a woman would take a shine to you? And what might you look for?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

For the life of her, Saeryn could not understand her brother's insistance of another sibling. Her memories of their childhood had flashed back, knocking her senseless to the floor, and yet this Fenrir that he spoke of... she remembered nothing.

She strove with the thought, clutching the hand of her twin, until her head ached. Her wounds still hurt, and she was tired.

"Degas, if you insist that we've a brother named Fenrir, than I will believe you." she sighed, exasperated. Degas did not look much better. He brushed his locks out of his eyes with his bandaged hands. Suddenly a look of concern fell across his brow and he looked at his sister. Her bandages still peeked from beneath her gown, and her face held a small nearly concealed frown.

"Mistresses, I hate to interrupt... but my sister... she is still injured, and she is still exhausted. The day has been long. Will someone help me get her to a warm bed?"

[littlemanpoet]

Bethberry regarded Eodwine with a penetrating gaze. "What kind of husband do you think you would make, Eodwine, that a woman would take a shine to you? And what might you look for?"

Eodwine opened his mouth in reply when Degas spoke up.

"Mistresses, I hate to interrupt... but my sister... she is still injured, and she is still exhausted. The day has been long. Will someone help me get her to a warm bed?"

Bethberry called Maercwen from the kitchen. Once Bethberry saw that Saeryn's need was seen to, she turned back to Eodwine.

He looked at her gravely. "I would make the same as I made before, with fifteen years' additional wisdom to aid me. Remembrance of the family I lost will make me hold a new family dear. My loyalty is unquestioned by all who know me. Other than that, you have seen for yourself through our recent adventures what kind of man I am. As to what I might look for, firstly a woman who would be a good mother to Gudryn. Other than that..." Now a small grin played on his lips "...I would wish that such a one be not much older than I, and be not too hard to look at, if you take my meaning." He grew serious again. "But what I look for most is someone who could give her heart to the both of us and expect no less in return."

[Bêthberry]

The departure of Saeryn and Degas with Maercwyn brought a bustling commotion to the Greath Hall, so that people turned away from the central event towards their beer, their dinners, the thankfully calm conclusion of their day. The twins enthusiastically attacked their plates of pastries and ragouts and vegetables while Falco kept his eye on his companion Eodwine. He had not expected the Rohirrim man to accept the adoption of Gudryn, but stranger things had happened in his life. Still, Falco chuckled to himself, for he foresaw some lively adventures in the near future.

Gudryn's blushing concern for herself disappeared as she watched Saeryn leave, so she was neither prepared nor expecting the Innkeeper's question to her.

"Gudryn, you have had a tumultuous day and no doubt your head and your heart are spinning with events almost unbelievable."

The girl turned back to Bethberry shyly and nodded, her hand still holding Eodwine's arm.

"What say you to this idea of Eodwine's, that he supplies not only father but mother for you as well? It is a mighty step, to step into the lives of strangers. Girls don't usually pick their maws and paws as easily as they choose new frocks."

"Frocks," interjected Ruthven, munching on a thick slice of grain bread slathered with butter. "Gives me an idea, Bette."

"Well it might, Ruthven, but let's let Gudryn give us a few leads. Yet don't feel rushed to answer now, dear. The day has been long and much too rushed to recommend sudden decisions. Shall we all finish dinner and like Saeryn and Degas seek our repose, that tomorrow we may consider with fresh mind and heart Eodwine's idea?"

~~~

And so the day finally wound down as the sun set, with tongues wagging slower and slower and people by one and two drifting off for the night. Ruthven bid the twins goodnight and Falco, nodded to Eodwine, and gave Bethberry a parting hug.

For her part, the Innkeeper lit the taper inside a lantern and made the rounds of the doors and windows on the main floor, ensuring all were barred and locked, and then withdrew to her room for rest. She was tired, nay , even wearied by the day's events and hoped for a good, long sleep.

~~~

Alas, she could not sleep, not for the longest time, that is. Her feet ached and her arms and gave her little peace. Yet sleep finally came and the sun did rise again.

It rose not with any particular portent. It was neither bright and cheerful, cloudless with a piercing blue, nor overcast and dark, with a foreboding sense, but was a mixed sky with whisps of cloud disappated into the blue sky to wash it out, without diminishing the sun's rays. It was a morn like any other morn and so did not seem to hold any special meaning for the day it announced. It was, in short, a most unlikely beginning for the story of heart's desire.

[Esgallhugwen]

Gudryn rubbed the sleep from her eyes and bolted out of bed, realizing in terror that something was wrong. But wait. Her heart slowed as she relaxed knowing she was now in a safe place free from the harm of Rand whom was locked away.

She pulled back the curtains to the sunrise, she loved every one she could remember. Though this one wasn't a dazzling display of hue, it had it's own special beauty that could not be denied.

Gudryn sighed thinking all the while about the decision that lay ahead of her, A father, and now perhaps a mother too? But would she still be able to travel the lands of Middle Earth? As pleasant as it might be she wished not to be about the house all day tending to chores. She wished to see lands that would be new to her eyes, and for all her love of Rohan she longed for the experiences that riding across the land would bring her. To Gondor and the Shire and perhaps the fading realms of the Elves before they were truly gone.

She sighed and watched the sun crest over the horizon, "a new day, full of purpose and choices that must be seen to"

She tip toed across the wooden floor in her bare feet to Eodwine's room, and knocked gently on the door. No answer. She knocked again. Still no answer.

Gudryn opened the door to find her Father sprawled out on the bed, "Father?", he barely stirred. Gudryn stepped closer and tapped Eodwine on the nose, his face scrunched up and he turned over in his bed.

"If you want to wake him you'll have to try alot harder than that", a familiar voice huffed behind her, she spun around to find Falco. "Watch and learn", Falco leaped onto the bed and began to shout.

"Up and about big trouble, you can't be lazing about when the day's upon us" he jumped up and down causing Eodwine to bounce along with him. Next thing a white blur clocked the rascally Hobbit sending him backwards and a triumphant laugh follows.

Gudryn's eyes widened as she tried to settle them down, "hush now others are still sleeping", "and I would have been to if it weren't for pint sized trouble over there".

Falco puffed up his chest and was about to retort when Gudryn cupped her hand over his mouth resulting in a muffled grumbling protest of inaudibility.

"Father, a mother would be more then I could ever wish for, but I still want to travel with you and learn of all the realms in this world. And perhaps if the mother does not mind to travel, we can all go together", Falco stopped his bantering and gazed up at the young lass, Eodwine silenced his laughing, contemplating her words.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn rose early, stiff and weary. As she prepared for a new day, she allowed her mind to wander.

Finding a small mirror in her bags, she examined her face. Though there was no bruising, she could feel where she got knocked on the head by her fall. Her forehead was well and truly bruised, with no color to show for it. She grimaced, remembering her childhood. Not a soul ever took her seriously when she had a hurt, save Degas, because she could never prove the pain with bright shades of blue and purple.

She washed up quickly and dressed, pulling a pair of worn breeches of indistinguishable color on and belting them tight. Over top, and untucked, she opted for a loose white blouse she had lifted from her twin's bags. True to his penchant for frivolty, it's sleeves billowed in a most dramatic way. Unable to work her shoulder to it's full capacity, she left her locks unbraided and sighed over the ringlets she could already see gently framing her face. Perhaps she would ask Gudryn to plait her hair later.

Ignoring her shoes, Saeryn opened her door and went in search for a cup of tea and a friendly face that would not try to helpfully send her back to bed, or wait on her.

"I wonder what this day will bring." she murmered softly as she padded to the kitchen.

[littlemanpoet]

"Father," said Gudryn, her hand over the hobbit's mouth, "a mother would be more than I could ever wish for, but I still want to travel with you and learn of all the realms in this world. And perhaps if the mother does not mind to travel, we can all go together."

Eodwine watched his foster daughter. Her face was bright with the hope she spoke of, but her eyes pleaded. Something was afoot in Gudryn's mind to cause her to come say such serious things bright and early in the morning. At was as if she could read his mind, for he had thought of settling down now that this makeshift family was bringing itself together around him, with his willingness, granted, but almost it seemed to him that some other will was at work to bring him to this point; a good will, if there was one. But of Gudryn, he brought himself back to thinking.

"You wish for me to keep my place as King's Messenger, and take you with me to see Middle Earth?"

Falco reached up and took Gudryn's hand from his mouth. "You may unhand me, lass, I'll not keep you from your words with your new pa any longer. 'Tis time for first breakfast!" With that, he was out the door and down the hall.

Eodwine sat up and swung his legs out to the floor; he had not changed from his garb of the previous night. He gestured to Gudryn to sit by him. She walked over and sat next to him, kicking her feet in the air as if she was treading water.

"Is that what you wish, my daughter?" Eodwine prompted. She nodded, looking up at him with big hopeful eyes. He smiled, but sighed sadly. "I'll have to give some thought to that. You see," he took one of her hands in his two, "it might be that I could buy a horse and train you to ride and come with me on my errands. Indeed, it might be a great adventure for the both of us. But if you are to have a mother also, it looks to my mind's eye that things change, for then we would be a party of three and move slower than the King needs. So maybe 'tis a choice between a mother and my role with the King. I do not know for certain. Which would you rather have, Gudryn?"

[Bêthberry]

OOC Announcement

We have some new faces in Rohan and a new Game Manager.

Welcome Encaitare and Kitanna to Rohan as Game Players. Both of you created intriguing hobbit characters and provided solid character development throughout 'Sailing Away."

Firefoot did a tremendous job managing 'Sailing Away' under frustrating situations. The game was as interesting for its character interaction as for the adventure itself. Well conceived, well planned, well played. Firefoot is very deserving of her status as full Rohan Game Player and Game Manager.

A mug of ale (or mead or your other preference) awaits you at The White Horse. Come sail down the Isen and join us here, Firefoot, Encaitare, and Kitanna!

Bêthberry,
Moderator for Rohan

[VanimaEdhel]

The whistle of the teakettle brought Giedd out of her meditative work. She started and as she did so, felt the sharp needle pierce her finger. She started again with a tiny shriek of pain. Finally, index finger in her mouth, she rose and poured herself tea. The beverage was placed on the table untouched, however, and Giedd went back to make the final touches on the apron.

Only when that final immaculate white apron was finished and folded neatly on the pile of aprons and frocks did Giedd allow herself to drink the tea. As she put down her cup, she examined the small hole the needle had made in her finger, contemplating it and verifying its existence. Even after these few years, Giedd still often found herself with such “wounds.” If she could, Giedd would have given up such work long ago, devoting her life to caring for the children of the town instead. This did not pay for food, however, so Giedd had to supplement her income with sewing for the town. The pile she was currently working on was to go to the White Horse Inn this very morning.

Looking at the risen sun, Giedd sighed and rose, placing her tea in the sink. She would wash prepare breakfast when she returned from her delivery. Hefting the pile of clothing, Giedd made her way to the door. Shifting the pile to one arm, she flailed slightly with her right hand to open her door. Leaning on the portal, she pushed her way out into the street, then closed the entrance to her tiny house.

Waving to the occasional mother and child, Giedd made her way up the street towards the White Horse Inn. When she arrived, a few patrons were already scattered around the Inn, enjoying tea or breakfast.

“Excuse me?” Giedd interrupted a serving girl. The girl, carrying a full tray, gave Giedd a pleading look. “Do you know where I could find Mistress Bêthberry?”

“Might be in the back,” the girl grunted, shifting the weight of the tray uncomfortably. After a pause, “Is there anything else, Miss?”

“No, no, thank you,” Giedd said. She saw the girl deflate with a relieved sigh, then scurry off to rid herself of the load.

Giedd wandered back towards the kitchens, nodding to the occasional acquaintance. Eventually, after checking with a few other harried-looking girls, Giedd found Bêthberry.

“Mistress Bêthberry? I have your aprons and frocks,” Giedd finally deposited the pile on a table, glad to be rid of the burden. She never rested well until a job was finished.

“Giedd,” Bethberry acknowledged warmly. “As always punctual with the delivery too. Now what do I owe you for these?”

After Giedd and Bêthberry settled the matter of payment and Giedd felt the comforting weight of the coins in her pocket – she was now assured of dinner for at least a few nights more – she and Bêthberry discussed more pleasurable things.

“I must confess, Giedd,” Bêthberry said, “That Ruthven and I were just thinking of your name last night.”

Giedd remained silent, trying to indicate elaboration from Bêthberry would be well-received. However, Bêthberry did not seem entirely prepared to relate the context. Giedd’s stomach gave a small rumble, pushing curiosity from her mind.

“Do you suppose, Mistress, that I could trouble your staff with one more breakfast? I was going to eat when I returned home, but I confess that it would be far preferable to eat here.”

“Be all means, Giedd, be our guest,” Bêthberry said. Giedd left Bêthberry to her work, wandering back to the bustle of the tavern. A few more patrons had woken, though there were still plenty of tables available for Giedd to choose from. She chose a table by the side of the room – not in the corner, but at the perfect angle to view all of the other diners and employees from afar. Giedd ordered coffee – though she already had enjoyed her tea at home – and a hearty breakfast.

Running through her list of chores for the day, Giedd realized that she had time to dawdle at the Inn. The girl serving her did not seem to be in a hurry to push her out, so, after she had eaten her breakfast, Giedd sat drinking her coffee and watching the fascinating visitors that always seemed to frequent the White Horse Inn.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine was quiet, his mind still churning from Gudryn's answer to his question as to what kind of life she hoped for with him as her father. He was not ready to divulge the information to anyone yet, however. They ate breakfast together, Gudryn silently waiting for him to think over her reply. Falco was taking a morning stroll through the town.

Garreth and Harreld, the twin blacksmiths, joined Eodwine and Gudryn at their breakfast table. They were trading their usual barbs and double-wit-backs (no such thing as entendrés here) when a woman walked through the Great Room door carrying a stack of cloth.

Garreth and Harreld did not bother to be discreet, but watched her eagerly as she walked through to the kitchen, then back out into the Great Room again, to sit at a table in the corner with a mug of some strong smelling, dark steaming brew that she sipped at daintily.

"Who's that?" Garreth asked Ruthven, who sat at a nearby table.

"What's it to you what 'er name is?" Ruthven the rag lady challenged.

Garreth frowned. "You know well enough. I - um -" Garreth glanced at Eodwine, who watched him with growing amusement. "Eodwine here has declared he's seeking a wife."

"Oh come now, brother!" Harreld cuffed him on the shoulder. "Admit you're looking for your own hopes."

Garreth turned on his brother. "Admit it yourself first and maybe I will!" Harreld threw up his hands in a gesture of peace, and warding off a potential blow. Garreth turned back to Ruthven. "So what's her name?"

"Ask 'er yerself, you bumpkin."

Garreth went all red in the face. "Well," he stammered, "I'd prefer to be introduced."

"Maybe I'll go introduce you to her," Eodwine said, smiling. He stood up, as if ready to do the deed.

Garreth looked at him, startled. "You mean you're just going to walk over and introduce yourself?"

"Well, yes. To ask her name for the sake of my friends."

Garreth raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Well, while you're at it, how about asking her to join us?"

"I can do that," Eodwine said. "But what has suddenly made you the bashful one?"

"I'm not bashing nobody," Garreth said. "What are you talking about?"

Eodwine chuckled. "I'll go make the invitation." With that, he walked over to the table of the cloth woman.

[VanimaEdhel]

Giedd looked up from her coffee just in time to see a tall, fair man of some forty or so years approaching her table. An alarm rang in the back of her mind – she was about to find herself in a social situation unprepared. If only she had received some warning, then she could have asked one of the girls of the identity and nature of the man. She may have even been able to secure Bêthberry or Ruthven to be present with her. Well, in any event, it was too late now – the situation approached her as an inevitable chore. Best to make the most of it and, as her mother always said, “lift your skirts and make the jump.”

“Hello,” Giedd said quite loudly before she could control herself. People around her gave her an odd look and the man appeared nonplussed for a moment or two. He quickly regained his composure, though, far more adept at meeting people than she, while Giedd flushed, part of her wishing she could now just sink through the floor. The other half of her, however, was intrigued by this man and what interest he took in her.

“M’lady,” he said, “I couldn’t help but notice you’re sitting alone here. I wondered if you would be in want of company?”

“Your company?” Giedd asked, starting off shakily, but consciously changing her tone to a more hospitable one by the time she finished the last word. At least, she hoped it came across in that light.

“Well, my friends’ company – and yes, my company as well; if, of course, it pleases you.”

“All right,” Giedd said automatically, without thinking. She could have kicked herself. What possessed her to accept the invitation? For all she knew, she could be agreeing to dine with criminals. But this man did not look like a criminal. But then again, what did criminals look like? They did not all wear dark cloaks and hide in corners, waiting for unsuspecting parties. But no, this man did not look like a pickpocket – and there was a girl at the table he came from. He would not be with a child if he did not have good intentions.

“I am Eodwine,” the man said, extending his hand as Giedd rose, having made up her mind.

“Giedd,” she said, holding out her right hand, and then realizing she still carried the coffee in that hand. She put the cup down and held out her hand again. Eodwine had begun to laugh lightly. For some reason, this put Giedd better at ease. She smiled too and shook his hand. Once their hands broke apart, she took her cup back and followed Eodwine over to his table.

Giedd’s nerves began to overtake her again as she drew nearer to the table. However, she kept her eyes on the young girl when Eodwine introduced her to the other three members at the table – Garreth and Harreld, twins, and the Gudryn, the girl.

“Pleased to meet you,” Giedd said, keeping her eyes on Gudryn and not noticing the fairly intent gaze of Garreth. Giedd took a seat next to Eodwine, and looked around briefly. She noticed Ruthven at the next table. Giedd tried to wave to the woman, hoping to catch her attention and invite her to join the table, but Ruthven seemed to have either become deaf momentarily or was intent on some defect in her dress that Giedd could not see.

So, Giedd assessed her situation, finding herself among four strangers, and yet not feeling entirely uncomfortable. The twins appeared to have the spirit and talk of four in themselves, supplying for conversation even when Giedd could not. But there was something odd about Eodwine – something Giedd could not put her finger on; and still no one had told her the place of Gudryn amidst the four. So finally, when there was a momentary lull in the antics of the twins, Giedd voiced her question. She asked Gudryn, though any would have done, merely because she found it far easier to speak to the child than any of the men around her.

“Gudryn,” she began, “I am curious: what brings you in the company of three grown men? If it is not impolite for me to ask, that is – it is merely curiosity that sparks the question.” Giedd did not ask where Gudryn’s mother was, for fear she may already know the answer, but hoped that the story would also supply explanation for that query as well.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn had finished her morning meal in a quiet corner in the kitchen, mostly undisturbed but for a small cat that had pranced its way over to share with her. Once finished, she picked up her now barely warm cup of tea and made her way to the great hall, wondering if anyone has yet risen. She smiled when she saw the twins, Eodwine, and Gudryn, and frowned curiously at the new arrival.

Making her way to them, she slid comfortably and silently into the seat next to Gudryn, smiling at the girl. She had missed the question, but from the look of expectation on the stranger woman's face, she knew that a story may or may not be forthcoming. With this lot, she grinned, t'was most likely on it's way and simply looking for the right words to properly be told.

[Bêthberry]

In stacking the aprons and pinafores away in the large linen closet off the kitchen, Bethberry noticed tiny stains on them. She peered closer. Tiny drops of blood with a smear or two.

"Hmm," Bethberry thought to herself. "Giedd is still pricking herself with her needle." The Innkeeper sighed. She pulled the batch of new clothes out of the closet and dumped them in the laundry bin. She did miss the work of the seamstress Estelyn but she knew that Giedd needed the money. Perhaps her strategy of waiting and hoping that the woman would become more adept was not going to work. Bethberry disliked the thought of mentioning the problem to Giedd but she realised finally that she would have to. Wondering if the woman was still at the Horse, Bethberry sought the Great Hall, picking up a steaming mug of coffee on her way.

There, what did she spy! Why, if luck or fate would have it, there was Eodwine introducing himself to the very woman she had thought of when he sought her advice about a wife. But what a titter was about their table! Garreth and Harreld were puffing and huffing and turning a dozen shades of blush and rising from their chairs and bowing and knocking heads and laughing in that nervous kind of way. Eodwine was escorting Giedd to their table, with Gudryn shyly hanging her head. What a way to start the affair!

Bethberry greeted the table cheerily. "The sun rises warmly on our endeavours today. Good morn, Eodwine. How is the family today?" With that comment, she smiled warmly at Gudryn. "And our twin hereos, are they prepared to find their fate and lady loves?" The twins glared at her and so Bethberry decided a strategic retreat was called for. With a nod and smile, she took a seat beside Ruthven, whose eyes were brimming with wicked humour even at this early hour, and waited for Eodwine to reply. Or anyone, really. It was the kind of morning when the best laid plans went stray.

[Esgallhugwen]

"Is that what you wish, my daughter?" Eodwine prompted. She nodded, looking up at him with big hopeful eyes. He smiled, but sighed sadly. "I'll have to give some thought to that. You see," he took one of her hands in his two, "it might be that I could buy a horse and train you to ride and come with me on my errands. Indeed, it might be a great adventure for the both of us. But if you are to have a mother also, it looks to my mind's eye that things change, for then we would be a party of three and move slower than the King needs. So maybe 'tis a choice between a mother and my role with the King. I do not know for certain. Which would you rather have, Gudryn?"

She pondered for a moment, uncertain to what her choice would lead to.

"I think for now," she paused biting the bottom of her lip, "for now perhaps it may be best for it to be just the two of us, we shouldn't move to quickly with these big decisions, a loving wife for you and a mother for me is a mighty step for both of us to take, and we still have so much to learn from one another", she looked up at her father and smiled at him in wonder. Eodwine's adopted daughter could not help but be in awe of her Father's kindness and strength.

"Is that your choice then?" he asked kindly smiling back. Gudryn nodded and replied, "but don't be dissauded from looking for a love you may find it in the most strangest of places".

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*

A curious woman came back with Eodwine after they had shared a few words with one another. She seated herself close to Gudryn and asked.

“Gudryn,” she began, “I am curious: what brings you in the company of three grown men? If it is not impolite for me to ask, that is – it is merely curiosity that sparks the question.” Giedd did not ask where Gudryn’s mother was, for fear she may already know the answer, but hoped that the story would also supply explanation for that query as well.

Gudryn frowned slightly then gave a small smile to reassure the woman that nothing was entirely wrong. "I came to this place under tragic circumstances I will admit, but the kindness of strangers showed me that not all hope was lost. That is how Eodwine became my father for I know not what happened to my birth parents, and yet I feel the worst has come to them."

Gudryn began to unfold the full story of what had occured recently at the Inn, with many a shout of triumph at the outcasting of Rand. She sipped at her tea and smiled sheepishly at the woman.

[littlemanpoet]

"I came to this place," said Gudryn to the Lady Giedd, "under tragic circumstances I will admit, but the kindness of strangers showed me that not all hope was lost. That is how Eodwine became my father for I know not what happened to my birth parents, and yet I feel the worst has come to them."

While Gudryn continued to relate the things that had happened over the last few days, Eodwine narrowed his eyes and gave thought. Gudryn had said far less than she might have about her past. Could it be that she chose to forget it, choosing instead to think only on that which was happening now? He could not blame her if it was so. Still, his curiosity was now awakened. What had happened to her parents? Had Rand killed them? Likely enough. Or had they sold her to him out of the duress of penury? That seemed less likely, but not impossible. Had she been born in the same village as Rand, or had she been born elsewhere and taken to his village?

Eodwine sighed. What did it matter? Did such questions need answers? He was not sure. She seemed to be recovering well from her wounds; at least, the outward wounds to her body, and she seemed to be eating well, though she was still not much more than skin and bone, a starvling waif. And she was so sweet natured! That was what had melted his heart. Somehow, despite all she had endured, their was a wholesomeness to her. It was as if she was a diamond, and not all the mud and abuse Rand could put to it, could touch it.

Eodwine shook his head slightly. No. Surely she was made of softer stuff than the hardest stone short of mithril. It might not be seen now, but days would come when the wounds on the inside, those of thought and heart, revealed themselves. Let them come, he thought. I will care for her when she is in such throes as surely as I would defend her with sword against rogues.

Gudryn looked up at him, smiling, her big eyes searching for sign of his care. He returned her smile and laid his free hand upon her head, brushing back a stray strand of hair.

Garreth and Harreld had been carrying on, exaggerrating their own part in the fight against Rand while Falco demonstrated his excellent marksmanship with a bun sailing right into the hearthfire, at which Bêthberry gave out a vehement protest against the waste of good food.

Eodwine cast a single glance at the Lady Giedd during all this commotion, at which time she happened to be looking directly at him. He smiled and raised his cup, and she smiled back, then looked away, occupied seemingly with the antics of Garreth, who seemed incapable of speaking in a normal tone of voice, let alone whispering. Eodwine sipped from his mug.

[Bêthberry]

Ruthven had been cackling gleefullyand whispering things in Bethberry's ear when the bun went sailing past their heads right into the fire. Bethberry turned to find the miscreant who had lobbed the foodstuff, but Falco was seated head down, deep in his breakfast dish, with his mouth stuffed full of Herreld's bun. Garreth was pointing vociferously towards Falco in a heroic manner, as if to object to this monumental disruption of courtesy and good manners. Unfortunately, his arm knocked Herreld, who was busy remonstrating with the halfling, pulling on Falco's arm as if to regain his breakfast. Being knocked half over, Herreld pulled too hard, too fast, and Falco's arm went flinging out across the table, knocking Eodwine's mug from his hands and spilling its contents out onto Giedd's lap.

Bethberry sat there quietly, her face a mask of composure, seeing the truth of her concern for good manners borne out by the antics of the ragamuffins in her midst.