The White Horse Inn, Act II [Archive] - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Child of the 7th Age

06-16-2003, 02:58 PM

Child came trudging along the road, with a pack slung haphazardly over one arm and a harp, his only possession he really valued, gently nestled in the other. One more hill and a bend in the road, and the White Horse should come into view.

Now a man in the prime of his strength, he'd turned his back on Rohan some fifteen years before and swore that he'd never return. In that space of time, he'd traipsed from one end of Arda to the other, meeting people and seeing places that others could only dream of. He'd walked the streets of Minas Tirth and the ancient bowers of Fangorn, spoken with strange folk who called themselves 'kuduk', and even been a guest at Lord Elrond's table where he'd learned much about Elven music. Of late, he'd travelled south and east, as far away as Rhun and Harad. Here, he'd learned the art of staying silent, keeping his opinions to himself if he wanted to survive to see another day.

Wherever he went, his harp and flute earned him enough of a living that he could survive. He had actually done more than simply survive. For he had a small bag of gold and siver tucked away neatly in the top of his boot. Perhaps, he'd find a little place to call his own and settle down on the outskirts of town. Maybe open a school where the young lads of Edoras could learn the tales of their heroic ancestors and memorize a few letters and numbers.

Yet, if he was truly honest with himself, that was only part of the reason he'd chosen to return. Even as a youngster, he'd been able to sense when something important was going to happen in his small world that would shake up all the established ways.

His recent travels had been no different. Wherever he'd gone, Bard had sensed the shadow extending its tenacious grip on the land and, even more, over the minds of those who dwelled there. What was behind it, or why it had come, he had no idea. But something had whispered in his ear that Rohan itself might be endangered. Perhaps it was time for him to set aside his angry words and return home to see if he couldn't help in some way.

These last words brought a wry smile to his lips. How his childhood companions would have chuckled! It was clear to Child that skill in arms would soon be needed to defend the cause of goodness. Yet he was the least likely person in all of Arda to be of any use as a soldier. His one leg was shorter than the other, which caused him to walk with a decided limp. He had no trouble getting around on foot, but his gait was extremely awkward. Even more, Child had seen the look of pity in his father's face when he'd tried to match his brothers with a sword or dagger. It was not an experience he cared to relive.

Most of all, there was the inner wound that still rankled. His own family had been members of the lesser nobility, descended from a long line of warriors. When all his brothers came of age, their father had presented them with one of the magnificent stallions of Rohan. Perhaps not as long-lived or fleet-footed as the mearas that were reserved for the King's family, but wonderful steeds who could easily pull on a man's heartstrings.

Despite Child's extraordinarily gentle way with horses and the fact that he could manage a mount as well as his peers, there'd been no gift for him. For what man beside a warrior would need a horse so swift and strong? Sometimes at night, on distant shores, he'd dreamed of the horses he'd left behind in Rohan. Strangely enough, images of these steeds crept into his mind even more frequently than the beautiful young women whom he'd also left behind. Child had a nagging feeling that, until he managed to find some freedom from the pull of that lost dream, he'd never be able to appreciate any woman, no matter how lovely or kind.

With these jumbled thoughts plaguing at his mind, he soon found himself on the doorstep of the White Horse, wondering if he'd made a big mistake in even coming.

[ June 16, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Aylwen Dreamsong

06-16-2003, 06:59 PM

Aylwen smiled as her song finished, the last tune lingering on the air. She stood, dusting herself off and gazing past the horizon. The new sun had risen, and everything was alive with the dawn as the day began.

The message from Bêthberry to come and help in the White Horse as Assistant Innkeeper was greatly appreciated by Aylwen, who had become rather bored with the typical life in Minas Tirith. Besides, Aylwen had not seen Bêthberry in a long while, and it was high time she visited the Innkeeper. There was even to be a celebration for Aylwen and…well, someone called Child, who were newcomers to the Rohan team.

Aylwen was just about to go inside and talk to Bêthberry about duties for the new day when just around the bend came a figure towards the inn. It was a man, limping slightly, with a harp cradled in one arm! Aylwen grinned, and cheerily greeted the stranger in the only way she could think of in such early hours: singing.

The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you will find him;
His father's sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him;

"Land of Song!" cried the warrior bard,
"Though' all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

The Minstrel fell but the foeman's steel
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he loved never spoke again,
For he tore its chords asunder;

And said, "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and bravery!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!”

The Minstrel Boy will return we pray
When we hear the news, we all will cheer it,
The minstrel boy will return one day,
Torn perhaps in body, not in spirit.

Then may he play on his harp in peace,
In a world such as Eru intended,
For all the bitterness of man must cease,
And ev'ry battle must be ended.

Aylwen did not wait to gain a reply from the man, and quickly ran into the inn through the kitchen garden door past many different herbs. The moment she entered she was slammed by the wonderful smell of breakfast sausage, spices, and many other things Aylwen could not identify. Soon after the scents had settled in Aylwen’s senses, the brash, clanging sounds of pots and pans followed. The Gondorian woman soon found Bêthberry amidst all the chaos talking with Froma, the head cook. Aylwen strode over to join the Innkeeper and the cook.

“Care for me to help with anything?” were the first words to come out of Aylwen’s mouth, for she was quite anxious to start her job as assistant. “If anyone is still sleeping I could easily wake them up. Then again, they probably wouldn’t like that. I could help take care of the deliveries for the party.”

Aylwen had quickly dismissed the notion of waking up any of the residents of the Inn using her panpipes. The set she was holding had only seven pipe-flutes connected, but they worked all the same. The smallest pipe carried a tiny, delicate sound when blown, and was gentle and sweet to the ears. The second flute was quite the opposite with its brash sound striking few harmonious chords. Aylwen rarely used that pipe unless it was by itself. The third bell was pure of tone and had clarity ringing in its voice that stirred the imagination. Aylwen loved the fourth pipe best, for she enjoyed its musical tone and cheerful melody. The fifth flute seemed to enjoy the sound of its own voice, and it was difficult for Aylwen to carefully blow over that pipe. The sixth bell was strong and powerful, its tone was deep and thick. Last but not least, the seventh flute on the panpipe set was sorrowful and somber with a voice lower than any of the others.

“Oh yes!” Aylwen added quickly, “there was a man coming up to the Inn! Should I go see to him?”

[ June 22, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

Estelyn Telcontar

06-17-2003, 06:33 AM

Bêthberry had just set down her cup of coffee when she felt a touch on her left shoulder. Her head wheeled around, but no one was there. A soft laugh to her right caused her to sigh in mock exasperation. “Must you frighten me like that so early in the morning?”

The corners of Annawyn’s eyes crinkled. “I thought you could use some fun to start off a busy day like this!” she retorted. “I’m glad to see you’re taking the time for a good breakfast. I have brought you something in hopes that you would exchange it for a cup of your delicious tea.” She laid a basket of small wild strawberries on the table.

“Oh, how wonderful!” The Innkeeper beckoned to one of the maids, who hurried off to fetch a cup of tea, knowing the wishes of the frequent guest. “I hadn’t expected to see you here personally today,” she said inquiringly. “Is everything all right with the old and new banners?”

“Yes, of course,” the seamstress answered. “Two of the girls will be bringing them later. The younger apprentices did the sewing; the older ones were still busy with dresses that were to be finished, and the work was really beneath their dignity, you know. But I couldn’t resist adding a few of my own touches. If you can take the time, have a look at the embroidery before they are hung up out of reach.”

“I will,” Bêthberry promised, “and thank you for helping me out! Now, have I told you who is coming to the party?”

Annawyn sipped her tea and listened, smiling at the excitement and energy her friend exuded.

elven maiden Earwen

06-17-2003, 02:51 PM

The door swung open. The banners had arrived. Two young girls apprentices of Annawyn brought them.

“Hello girls. You could set the boxes right here” Bêthberry said as she pointed to an open space.

“Thank you” Ravenna a young girl with long raven hair pulled back into a messy bun, said politely as Mellaith and her set the large brown boxes down.

“Is it all right if we stay and help put up the banners?” Mellaith asked.

“Very well,” Bêthberry said."As long as Annawyn doesn't need you," she added.

“Thank you” Ravenna said.

Soon they were pulling out the banners. Ravenna and Mellaith had sewed most of banners by themselves with a little help from Annawyn. The first one was very long. It was made out of a beautiful green fabric. On the banner there was a rearing white horse on each side. In large, white, blocked letters it said 'Welcome to The White Horse Inn'. They decided they would hang this one outside. Bêthberry came over to inspect each banner as they pulled them carefully out of the boxes, just like Annawyn had asked her to.

There were many more banners in the boxes. All of them were different. Long, or short, fat or skinny. Some were green, and some were white, or black or other colors. Some of the banners were old and others were new. Ravenna looked at the banners they had already hung up. She was proud of their good work.

After they had hung up the banners in the two boxes the girls excused themselves to go find Annawyn and asked her what they needed to do. They walked out of the inn, and down the rode till they came to Annawyn’s shop. It was very sunny outside, and a light breeze blew.

“Hello Annawyn” they said together as the walked in.

“Hello girls. Is everything fine at The White horse?”

“Yes Madam. We just came back to see if you needed any help” Mellaith said.

“We helped put up the banners,” Ravenna added. Sunrays poured though the windows illuminating the room. Annawyn’s dark honey colored hair shone in the light. She was beautiful, in Ravenna’s eyes.

[ June 17, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

[ June 18, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

Mithadan

06-17-2003, 02:56 PM

A rider, wearing the livery of Gondor, entered The White Horse, bearing a scroll. He proceeded to the Innkeeper and bowed low before presenting her with the tube. In it were two pieces of vellum. The first read as follows:

My lady, its been some time and that's certain. Yet I've not forgotten you or your fine establishment. When I can, I will visit. But I write today of more important matters. I received the attached today and thought you should see it and perhaps pass it on. Regards, X.

On the second piece of vellum was the following:

The New Rules of Gondor Have Been Posted in Ecthelion's Tower (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=21&t=000008)

Bêthberry

06-18-2003, 06:36 AM

Nodding goodbye to the Rider of Gondor as he departed hurriedly, the Innkeeper gave herself a few minutes to reflect about the morning's events. The new rules for Gondor were displayed on the wall of the wordhoard, where Talômi and Talmérië were whispering excitedly over them. So far, Bêthberry could look upon the bustle and rush with satisfaction and some calmness.

A sudden gust caused the banners to flap, which brought a smile to her face. Perhaps it was the surprise visit of her friend Annawen and the sweetness of the plump strawberries for breakfast which had put her in a mellow mood. Annawen's wit and gentle teasing often brought a bit of relief from the hurried concerns of the days, now so often marred by dark troubles.

And the banners brought the bright hues of spring flowers into The Horse, lightening the dark oak buttresses of the tall ceilings. Bethberry was doubly pleased that Ravenna had picked up so quickly some of the skills of the seamstress. Ravenna was proving to be a good apprentice, showing much early promise. Business was brisk for Annawen as it was for most of the merchants and tradespeople of Edoras. More hands made lighter work.

The strains of harp and pipe came in with the gust of wind also. Something else to be thankful for. The music and youthful enthuasiasm of the younger Innkeeper had charmed the strange traveller, who few recognized after fifteen years. The music, Bêthberry hoped, had helped dispell the memories of the angry words spoken in this very Inn years ago. Long had Bêthberry looked forward to this return and happy she had been with the hearty embrace which broght them face to face after so many years.

The creaks and groans of the ale wagon brought the Innkeeper back to her duties. There were plenty of kegs to be unloaded. And few enough hands to do it.

[ June 18, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Estelyn Telcontar

06-18-2003, 06:47 AM

Annawyn smiled at the girls’ enthusiasm. They had obviously enjoyed being out of doors on such a beautiful day. That was so much more interesting than sitting in the shop’s sewing room, though two large windows gave enough light and air to make working pleasant. However, there was work to be done, and they were here to learn how to do it well.

“You did right to help hang up the banners,” she said approvingly. “I am sure that you were more careful with them than anyone else would have been. After all, they were your labour. But there are seams to be stitched, if the dresses that were ordered for next week are to be finished on time. Work awaits you in the sewing room.”

Annawyn suppressed a sympathetic smile upon seeing their crestfallen faces. She too would have enjoyed a walk outside, but work awaited her as well. She followed them into the sewing room. Before sitting down to finish the intricate embroidery on a dress, she clapped her hands to get the attention of the young women who were diligently plying both needles and tongues.

“Ladies, I am certain that you are all aware of the party at the ‘White Horse’ this evening. I hope that you are all planning to enjoy yourselves there. There will be much to see – the banners that Ravenna and Mellaith have made,” she paused to applaud the youngest apprentices, the others joining in, “and there will surely be some dresses that were sewn here. To give all of you time to prepare yourselves, we will be finishing work somewhat earlier today.”

Excited smiles greeted her announcement, then animated chattering accompanied the rustle of fabric and the clatter of scissors.

elven maiden Earwen

06-19-2003, 11:28 PM

Ravenna started working on the dresses almost immediately. She sewed and she cut and she sewed more. She was overjoyed at the thought of going to the party. But what am I going to wear? She came from a poor family so she didn’t have many dresses. I’ll decide later she thought as she continued working. Finally she had gotten the dress sewed. It was a pale blue, with long flowing sleeves. She had been working on it for ten days now. One of the older girls Jesslyn had helped her on it. Now all she needed to do was embroider it.

She walked over and stood behind Annawyn. She watched her make intricate stitches into a dress. Her hand moved quickly. Ravenna stood their watching and learning form Annawyn. She went back to her seat and started embroidering the dress. In white thread she made a design on the sleeves. It wasn’t as intricate as the designs Annawyn or the older girls made but it was still beautiful.

She soon finished embroidering the dress and set it aside to show Annawyn later. She started sewing another dress that Jesslyn had already started on six days ago. This one was burgundy and made of velvet. It was long and its sleeves were flowing. It was going to be a very elegant dress. After an hour of working the dress was partially complete. She still had to sew on the sleeves, fix the collar and adorn it. She spent about another hour working on the collar. She added a golden ribbon all around it and a small golden ornament in the shape of a flower in the center.

“Girls.” Annawyn said clapping her hands twice to get their attention. “In order to give yourselves time to prepare for the party you can stop working now”. Annawyn looked upon the excited girls.

“Thank you Annawyn” the girls said in unison. They hurried up into their rooms to change. Ravenna decided to wear her white dress. It was pretty simple except for the embroidery made in silver thread. Annawyn had embroidered it for her and it became Ravenna’s favorite dress. She slipped on a pair of white shoes and pulled her hair back into two long braids, one on each side of her face. She was ready to go and so where many of the other girls.

It was now about five o’clock. The girls had finished getting ready and were heading downstairs. Mellaith knocked three times on Annawyn’s door.

“Annawyn, will you be joining us at the party?” Mellaith asked politely.

[ June 21, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

[ July 02, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

Taralphiel

06-20-2003, 12:31 AM

Lachlan slowly spurred his horse on through the streets. It was a fine day in Edoras, and despite the chilly wind, he could feel the sun through his light linen shirt. Today he was delivering ale to The White Horse for a special occasion. Grinning, Lachlan wondered if he would have the chance of seeing this event.

Slowing to a stop in front of the Inn, he leapt out and greeted the Inkeeper. 'Why Lachlan, where is your father?' Bethberry asked. He smiled 'His errands took him to the other side of the City, so I offered to help him with this one delivery' Walking around the back, he began to unhook the back of the cart, Looking around he mumbled to the onlooking Inkeeper 'Youre short of hand I see?' Bethberry frowned 'Indeed. And on a day like this!' Lachlan reached up and began unloading the kegs himself. 'I'd be happy to helo ye today. I only had this one errand to do, and father gave me the day to myself!'

Bethberry smiled and said 'Why thankyou Lachlan, it would be much appreciated. Though, Ill mind you watch out for the lasses wandering around here. I still remember the last time you worked for me, you had all of them following your every word' Lachlan laughed at this 'Was it that bad? I couldn't tell!' he brought down the last keg with a flourish, and wiped his brow.

'Well, what shall I do next?'

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Taralphiel ]

Nurumaiel

06-20-2003, 11:06 AM

The door of the White Horse swung quickly open and banged against the inside wall, creating a loud noise that echoed through the room, bringing many eyes to stop whatever they were doing and stare. A man dashed in and caught at it, but too late. He quickly pulled it back, studying the wall nervously for any marks it might have made, then looked sheepishly up at Bethberry, who was trying to hide her amused smile. "I hope that no damage has been done?" he asked in a concerned voice.

"I believe that none has," said Bethberry. "Just try to refrain from doing that in the future, please."

"Yes, miss," the man mumbled, running a hand through his ragged yellow hair. He was average height, around six feet, and he was dressed simply in the style of a Rohan peasant. He had kind-looking blue eyes, though at the moment they were rather worried looking as he fingers still scanned the wall. He looked as though he was in his mid-thirties, and Bethberry couldn't help but notice that he smelled of horses.

He gave a sideways look towards Bethberry, and then cleared his throat and closed the door very, very gently behind him. He had obviously learned his lesson. "Are you the innkeeper?" he asked.

"Yes, I am."

"Then I'll get right to the point," he said. "I would like to have some small job here as a stablehand, just so I can earn a little money to feed my family. I used to be a stablehand at a place in Edoras, but - " here he grew indignant " - they thought I wasn't a good enough stablehand and threw me out."

Bethberry raised her eyebrows with a silent question, and though it was most likely a question directed to her own self, the man understood the meaning of it. "I know what you're thinking," he sighed. "'Why would they throw him out?' It wasn't because I wasn't a good stablehand, because I'm very good with horses, as anyone in Rohan can tell you. They thought I wasn't good enough because some richly dressed man from Gondor came saying he wanted a job." The man's face turned bright red. "They decided that a man richly dressed was better than a man who could actually take care of a horse."

He looked down at the floor and spoke more quietly. "A friend told me that you needed some people at your stable, and so I thought I'd try my luck here, for everyone else was full. Please understand, though, I don't want to have an 'official' job here. I just want to help out with the horses a bit. I don't want to be considered one of your 'staff.' And if children would annoy your guests, I'm sure you can't let me work here, because my three-year-old daughter will be visiting often." If possible, his head sunk even lower. "If you can't possibly accept me, could you please direct me somewhere else?"

Sophia the Thunder Mistress

06-21-2003, 03:41 AM

"Girl! The dishes!" Froma's harried shout brought Iswyn to her feet. Forgetting the kittens she'd been looking for in the courtyard, she rushed headlong back into the inn. Shoving her sleeves back up above her elbows as she went, the girl hurried toward the kitchen of the White Horse Inn. Stopping long enough to wave cheekily at Annawyn and Bethberry, Iswyn pushed through the heavy swinging door and into the hot kitchen.

Froma, the cook, leaned over a hot stove. Something rich smelling simmered there, for the party guests no doubt, but Iswyn's attention was on the other side of the room. A mountain of dirty dishes was waiting for her, steam rising from the water that had been heated. Iswyn dipped one finger into the water, yanking it out quickly and spraying scalding water in a half circle around her on the floor. "Iswyn, child, stop dragging your heels and get me that…” Froma’s arms gestured wildly in the shape of a square. Iswyn grabbed the nearest pan and held it up hopefully. Iswyn liked party days. Even though the usually cheerful Froma was cranky and rushed, there was something special about party food and party chores that made it fun. Froma made the square shaped gesture again, and Iswyn brandished her pan uncomprehendingly. With a dissatisfied grunt the cook crossed the room, eyeing Iswyn’s pile critically and extracting a large rectangular pan from near the bottom.

He pushed the pan roughly at the girl, “Wash it up quick, now. I need it for the apples.” Dutifully, Iswyn sank her arms up to the elbow in the hot water, scrubbing at the pan with a small brush. Scrubbing it clean took a long moment, and when she pulled the pan free of the water and shook it dry, her arms were glowing red from the hot water, and her face was shiny with sweat. Carrying the pan in stinging fingers, she set it on the counter beside Froma, watching as he ladled stewed pork and gravy from the pot she’d smelled earlier into a pie shell and liberally sliced cheese over the top. As he turned to put the pie in the oven, Froma swatted at Iswyn with a rough hand. “Mercy, girl, I’m busy, get to the dishes!” The annoyance in his voice had reached a level Iswyn knew well enough, and she scurried back across the kitchen and stuck her hands cautiously into the water.

The water had cooled to a reasonable temperature by now, and the dishes weren’t that bad, once she got down to it. And then there were always the baked apples to look forward to. She could hear Froma preparing them from somewhere behind her. Juicy and dripping with brown sugar, her mouth watered as she thought about them. The girl snuck a glance back over her shoulder, hoping to find the cook busy at something else so she could steal a handful of raisins. But no, there he was, stuffing the hollowed fruits with sugar and raisins and dusting cinnamon across the top. Iswyn grinned. She could wait, she could always try and get the crusted rim of brown sugar out of the pan just as they came out of the oven.

As the last of the dishes stacked shining and steaming on the counter, and the kitchen filled with the smell of baking cinnamon, Bethberry poked her head in the kitchen door. “Froma, could you spare Iswyn for a bit? I think our peas may be ready to come in.” Iswyn held her breath, working in the garden with Mistress Bethberry was the best part of her job at the inn. But today there was so much to do in the kitchen. Froma hesitated a moment, but the thought of serving new peas with milk was apparently too much to miss.

He waved at her again with a smile, “Go then, but be back in an hour. I’ll have more dishes for you.” With a grateful grin at the Inkeeper, Iswyn snatched up a basket and dashed out through the kitchen door on her way to the cool garden.

Aylwen Dreamsong

06-21-2003, 03:04 PM

“I can pipe for a few songs if it is needed. What about the dulcimer, mandolin, drums, or the fiddle? Can we find all those things here in Edoras?” Aylwen asked Child, who nodded as he eyed the banners that had been put up by the seamstress assistants. Aylwen was not used to Edoras and it’s simplicity, and thought it was even more confusing than the intricate and ever-changing streets of Minas Tirith. Child sat in one of the wooden stools by a table, and Aylwen sat comfortably cross-legged on the floor, which she noticed had begun to gather dust. She made a mental note to take care of it before the party.

“Yes, they will be easily found here. It seems the leisure class has been growing through the years. Entertainers will not be hard to find. However, many of their songs will be about old knights and tales that have become legends…the songs will hardly be the cheery tavern songs that might be expected for a party,” Child informed her, somehow keeping one eye on the assistant innkeeper and the other eye on a stranger who walked into the inn with several kegs of ale in tow.

“I can help with that, I'll teach them a few songs. If they're even half-decent minstrels it won't be too hard to learn a few good tavern songs," Aylwen assured the harpist. Her final words were slightly cut off by a sharp and rhythmic knock on the open doorway of the Inn. Aylwen looked up to see a tall, lanky man in the doorway with a wooden box in one arm and four like boxes stacked by his feet.

"Can I help you?" asked Aylwen cheerfully, standing up and starting to walk over to the man. It was most likely deliveries for the party, but Aylwen was still curious as to what the deliveries were.

"Flowers for the White Horse Inn, ordered by a Miss Bêthberry," the man answered in a nasally voice. Aylwen nodded and went over to help unload the crates. She waved the man off once all the boxes were picked up and set on one of the tables, and then sighed.

"What do we do with them, Child?" Aylwen wondered aloud, looking over to the bard and then back to the boxes. The assistant innkeeper was no herbalist, and knew little of flowers. She could barely even name two or three of the different kinds of flowers in the crates.

"Use your imagination?" Child suggested, though it sounded like more of a question than a solution. Aylwen nodded, and grabbed a few white flowers in her hand. She pulled a stool from a nearby table and positioned it by one wall and under a banner. Aylwen was able to reach the hooks and tassles that held up the green "White Horse" banner when she stood on her tip-toes. She fastened a few flowers around the top corners of the banner and then stepped down from her stool.

"I don't know that much about fashion and matching colors or whatnot," said Aylwen bemusedly, "but that looks good enough to me."

Aylwen repeated the process with the remaining banners, and was surprised to find that there were still three boxes full of flowers left. With these remaining flowers she made centerpieces for all the tables after dividing them up almost evenly.

"Right. Flowers, check. Now on to the floors," said Aylwen in a sing-song voice to Child.

Child of the 7th Age

06-21-2003, 06:57 PM

Once Child had mounted the doorstep of the tavern and had a chance to come inside, he found his doubts dissipating somewhat, as he concentrated on the immediate task at hand. Aylwen had greeted Child with a cheerful song, an appropriate way to welcome a Bard. Then she'd tried to set him at ease, chatting of this and that as she strung up banners and decorated the room with an assortment of flowers that had just arrived in crates. He was grateful she hadn't asked him to climb up on top of the tables with her, since that would have been difficult for him to do.

The common room was to be closed for a few hours in anticipation of the party scheduled for later that night. Even so, several children kept scampering in and out, banging doors behind them and getting tangled in Aylwen's skirts. Aylwen finally put them to work, cleaning up the remnents of the greenery and dragging out the large crates to the back of the Inn.

"Who are they?" Child queried, genuinely curious as to where this ragtag bunch had come from.

"Those rascals?" A hint of an affectionate smile formed on Aylwen's face. "Sons and daughters of stablehands, millers, butchers, and laborers. All the working folk of the town. The little ones generally spend part of the day helping out their parents and learning a trade. But the rest of the time, they run wild and get into everthing at the Inn. I try to put a foot down, but it's not easy. And they are willing to help a bit if you ask them."

Child stared over at the band of five rascals who were now dutifully carrying out the remnents of the flowers and vigorously tearing the wooden slats from the crates and stacking them in piles.

"They're not in school?"

"School? Oh no, not for the likes of these. The prosperous merchants send their children to a local dame's school that costs a pretty penny, and the well-to-do landowners hire nursemaids and nannies to teach their sons and daughters what they need to know."

"No," signed Aylwen. "Their parents have a hard enough time making ends meet. They might have a few spare pennies one month but the next be scrambling for food to feed their little ones. In any case, many of them see no reason why their children should spend time learning their letters or numbers. It just doesn't seem to be part of their life."

Child stared over at the lads and lasses who were now sweeping up the remnents of the greenery that was scattered about on the floor. He thanked Aylwen and tucked away the information that she had given him, promising to think more about it at a later time.

DayVampyre

06-21-2003, 08:44 PM

Raven sat across the street from the Horse, taking the brightness of the day and anticipating the coming of the night's merriment. Sitting on top of a few piled up boxes, she laughed at the follies of the street-children, all the while keeping an arm around a long beaten wooden box.

What her proper name was, she didn't even know, but everyone she encountered had always called her Raven, because of the satin blackness of her hair. Currently it was tied out of the way with a red sash, with went quite well with the rest of her attire, a loose white top and long red skirt. With her tanned skin and dark brown eyes, Raven didn't blend in with the townsfolk, but it made no nevermind to her, she was always traveling anyway, by herself, or with a group, it made no nevermind to her.

The day was getting hotter, and Raven could see that it was taking its toll on the rambuncious children. Sitting in the shade of the blacksmith's shop did offer some repite, and so Raven beckoned the children over.

"Children, you mustn't play so hard, or you fall over!" She said playfully to them, a few laughed and the two hams of the group fell down, as though it were their cue, after which insued more laughter, even from Raven.

"Sit down here in the shade, and I'll play for you," She said, opening the wooden box and taking out an old but loved instrument. It was a violin made of a fine but unknown wood. The children, ready for a rest sat down close to Raven, as the horse-hair strung bow alighted onto the violin. The song that the instrument broke into, with Raven's guidence, was a happy light hearted, and jaunty tune. The children were soon clapping in time with it. A few of the nearby adults took notice of this pretty little tune as it grabbed hold of their ears and when Raven had finished, the children were clamoring for more.

"Alright, but only one more..." She said, and then her fingers went became a blur once more, as another song speeded it's way off her bow.

[ June 22, 2003: Message edited by: DayVampyre ]

Daniel Telcontar

06-22-2003, 08:54 AM

A tall and muscular man, clad in travelworn clothes with a cloak around him, entered the inn, and looked around. His gaze quickly swept over those he recognised as patrons, and ended on Aylwen, whom he guessed was either the owner or an employee.
"Are you the innkeeper here?"
He asked with a deep voice. Aylwen looked up from her work with the song and made an impression of the stranger.

"I am the assistent. Can I help you stranger? If you wish to be served, there are serving maids who can help you."
"I ain't here abou' food; I mean, not that I won't like any. Me name be Talan, I've travelled a bit here and there. I got here to the city, and I've heard a word that you'd be fancying someone here to make sure that people don't be doing something they shoudn't be doing. If you get what me meaning is."

Aylwen interpreted the stranger's words, and then nodded after making her decision.
"Ah yes, a doorguard to keep the patrons quiet when the ale has got to them. Do you think you have what it takes?"
"Well, I've was a street urchin, livin' in Dale for most of me life, so I know how to fight and how to scare others, so they don't jump at ya'. I promise to do me best to make sure nobody does anything you'd not want them doing."
"Yes, I think you could fulfill that very nicely. I will go and inform the innkeeper; she has the last word, after all, but I do not doubt that you are hired."

Talan stod, not knowing what to do when Aylwen rose and left her seat, but finally he sat down in a corner, and began eyeing the patrons in the tavern, taking his new job very serious.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]

Manardariel

06-22-2003, 11:33 AM

“Deor, can you please move your feet? Yes, Fianna, that´s a very nice butterfly- no, don´t go catch it! Come back! For heaven´s sake, Briga, can´t you tie that knot yourself?”

Mialynn sighed, looking down at her siblings. She grabbed the end of Fianna´s dress, holding her back; helped Briga with her laces, and yelled a bit at her dawdling brother. “Everybody, move! Today´s that big party in the White Horse, Mistress Bêthberry is going to roast me and serve me for dinner if I´m late!” Fianna giggled at the idea of a roasted sister, but said sister silenched her with a deadly look. Mia grabbed Baby Dierna, and shooed the kids out of the door.

When they arrived at the Horse ten minutes later, they were already greeted by a bunch of people that had gathered outside of the large building. Deor, Fianna and Briga immediatly recognized a few of their friends, and with a blink of an eye, had dissapaered into the throng. Knowing they´d be fine, Mia turned her steps towards the kitchen doors of the Inn.

“Hello!” she called. “Am I...late?”

“Late?!” Dramatically, Froma rolled his eyes. “On a day like this, she dares ask! On a day like this! Now, I need you for baking. Five loafs of normal bread, three with herbs and two with bacon; and I want them done before noon! Is that clear?”

Mia nodded. Quickly, she sat Dierna down in a wooden vat to her feet and gave her a rag doll. The babygirl happily started playing, from time to time uttering a “dah!” or “Toooo”. Mia put on her apron and went to work.

It was a truly brilliant day. Sunlight flooded the kitchen, leaving golden spots on Frona´s back and blinding Mia whenever she looked in direction of the pots. Through the open window, she heard people bustling in front of the Inn, heard big wagons thunder by; heard children laugh and birds sing. She worked quickly, mixing her doughs, forming the loafs of bread, adding the special ingredients only she knew. As she was just sprinkeling the last two loafes with poppy seeds to add some flavour, someone appeared at her side. It was the Mistress Bêthberry.

“Mialynn? Can you please look after the front desk for a moment?” She grimaced. “And can you tell that brother of yours that my stables aren´t a place to play hide-and-seek?”

Mia blushed. “Of course, ma´am, and I´m so sorry about Deor, did he break anything?” she asked, scooping up Dierna and hanging her head at the same time. Cursing silently, she followed Bêthberry into the Inn´s hall. “You wait, Deor...”she thought. She´s told him again and again to be careful around the Inn, told him countless times it could cost her her job if he broke anything... but he hadn´t so far, and Mialynn was far too busy to pull a “what if the sky falls down?”.

Amanaduial the archer

06-22-2003, 03:45 PM

The rider clattered through the street on her large, brown stallion, 17 hands but as gaunt as the rider herself. As he rode, several of the townspeople stood to tell the rider that she must not ride through so when there were children playing, but their fears were soon put to rest, for this rider was more than a little skilled in 'tricksy horsemanship' as it was often called. As he rode, the children who had been playing shrieked in delight- the rider made his horse raise his feet and legs high as he trotted lightly through the cobbled streets, letting the children run beneath him. A smile lit his thin features to hear their laughing and the sounds of the merriness caused a woman from the Inn to poke her head out from an upstairs window. The rider waved jauntily to her, slowing his horse and allowing him to walk in a more usual way, and the young assistant Innkeeper grinned back.

"Miss Dreamsong! Didn't I tell you I'd be back in town?"

"Not this town, you great lummox, Tar!"

The rider held one gloved hand to his chest, a look of immense hurt on his face and he pretended to slip from his horse as if shot, making Aylwen gasp, before catching himself at the last moment, with trouble even for him, and completed his unique dismount a little more clumsily than intended. Aylwen laughed and ran down the stairs.

By the time she reached the door of the Inn, the rider was hastily brushing himself down. Aylwen leant on the doorframe, watching him, and eventually he smiled sheepishly and bowed to her a little, sweeping an imaginary hat of his dark, floppy hair. Aylwen grinned and shook her head, and Tar moved forward to hug her lightly. Aylwen moved back first, shocked at how bony his hug had been. "What's happened to you?"

Tar smiled wanly. "I went on a diet, of a sort?"

"What sort?"

"A sort of...forced sort. But that's a story for another day. Anyway," he rushed on at her shocked expression, not willing to answer questions here and now, in the middle of the street, and held open his arms again, as if about to say 'ta da!'. "I'm back, alright? Rode all this way to see my favorite cousin, and she keeps me standing here like a fool..."

The young assistant Innkeeper laughed. "Tar, I would invite you in, but it's...well, it's a little chaotic around here. As I'm the assistant Innkeeper-" She stopped suddenly, eyeing Tar with suspicion. "Hang on, how did you know I was here?"

"I have my ways, little cousin. Anyway, its chaotic because...?"

"Party- for Child and myself, as we're new to the Inn," She said, proudly.

"Child...?" Tar was getting more mystified by the minute. Aylwen shot him the exasperated look that had always quelled Tar as a child, and he put his hands up. "Alright, alright, I won't ask any more questions. How can I help?"

Aylwen's face became more relieved, and she smiled at Tar, still business-like, but gratified at the offer of help. She put on a mock serious look and voice for a moment, wagging a finger at him. "I should think so too- keeping me here, distracting me- for shame, Tar!" As he laughed, she joined in, then beckoned him in, to do some job.

Tar gazed around the street before he went in, and at his horse, who was standing, bemused, among the enchanted children, stroking his fur and reaching up to his mane. Aylwen had always been a good friend to him- she wasn't actually a blood cousin, more an incredibly close friend. She had taken him in when he was just a tall, lanky kid, helping him out with the other kids when they laughed at him. But he wouldn't tell her why he was so thin- not yet. Turning and ducking under the door, her followed her in.

Nurumaiel

06-22-2003, 06:50 PM

The man turned and retreated out the door once again. He ran his hand down the neck of his bay horse and smiled. Now that he had some little job he didn't need to worry anymore. He wouldn't need to sell his horse, whatever else may happen. At least not yet. Just because he had a job now didn't ensure that he would all his life. But maybe, just maybe, he could regain his old work in Edoras, where he was paid a handsome sum.

The man (whose name, by the way, was Leofan, meaning Pleasant One) reached into one of the two saddlebags and pulled out some rope. He took the bridle of the horse off and skillfully made a halter from the rope. Giving a little clicking noise, he led the horse into the stable. The smell of horses greeted him and the whinny of horses as he gently urged his stallion in alongside him. The clip-clop of the horse's hooves on the wooden floor was like music to his ears. Here he was at home. Swordplay had always frightened him and he had always felt unsafe when he ventured to do something. But in a stable, when with horses, he felt safe and strong.

"Mihtig," Leofan said, addressing his horse, "take your rest here. Soon we will be riding back home again to fetch your mistress, and your younger mistress, little Mærcwen." He thought of his little daughter's sweet, innocent blue eyes and the waves of gold that spilled down her back and he smiled. Soon he would see that freckled, smiling face satisfied with more food that she had had in a long while.

He felt inside him that Bethberry and the rest of the staff at the inn were good people. They would do their best to help him and they would not find his daughter annoying. After all, had he not seen other children as he had went out the inn door? Mærcwen would be a sweet friend for them all, and Leofan was sure she would be a little joy to the staff and guests at the inn as she was to he and his wife.

Leofan went to fetch some hay from the loft above so his horse could have some dinner. He removed the saddle from his back and then settled down to watch his horse eat. Leofan considered Mihtig as the twin to his daughter, for both the horse and the child had been born on the same day within a space of a few minutes. Mihtig loved the whole family, and they loved him as well, especially Mærcwen, who simply called him 'my brother.' Where that idea had come from, Leofan never knew, but he suspected that she had heard the joking and laughing over the day of their birth and had taken it up. So now Mihtig was known as Mærcwen's twin.

The horse finished eating and Leofan waited a few more minutes to let the former settle what he had just eaten. Then he tacking him up again and led him outside. Poking his head into the door of the inn, he found himself face to face with Aylwen, who gave him an inquiring look. He spoke quietly, hoping that his horse wouldn't be too startled by the noise from the inn. "Would you please tell Bethberry I'm off to fetch my family and I'll be back later today?"

"Yes, I will," said Aylwen, giving him a reassuring smile. Feeling sure that his message would be delivered, Leofan gave a little nod and withdrew his head, ducking it just in time as it nearly collided with his horse's, who had leaned forward to see who his master had been talking to.

Leofan mounted and slipped his right foot into the stirrup. Gathering up the reins, he glanced back at the inn with a wide, shining smile. Hopefully this wasn't all a dream. Hopefully he wouldn't be waking up to find that he had no work and that his family was still going hungry. But, as Leofan turned Mihtig's head in the direction of home, he knew that it wasn't so. A little flick of his right heel and they were off towards home at a good, steady canter. But they would come back, with his beautiful wife and sweet little daughter.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Orual

06-22-2003, 09:11 PM

The White Horse Inn had finally appeared in the distance, warm and inviting and intimidating all at once. The girl on the road rubbed her arms, stooped a little under the weight of her pack. The breeze swept her onyx hair away from her face, tendrils creeping across her blue eyes. Tears hung in those blue eyes, and a few fell onto her freckled, teenage face.

She clutched her small bag of dried herbs in her small hand, and uttered a small prayer. She just had to fit in here. She had nowhere else to try.

"Hello, my name is Delia, and I'm looking for a job here," she recited under her breath. "I'm very good with herbs, and I don't mind hard work. I could scrub the floors for you if you wish, or I could work in the garden, if you have a garden, or I could tend bar, I promise I wouldn't drink a drop. I don't want any money, just food and board. I don't eat much, and I won't need a big room, either."

She quietly opened the door to the common room, and she immediately shrank back against the wall. Far too many people here. She crept over to someone who knew like she was in charge. She heard someone call her Aylwen, and she crept up to her. "Excuse me, ma'am," she began. She took a deep breath. "M'name is Delia and I need a job here and I'm willing to work for nothing but room and board and I'm good with herbs and I can scrub the floors or tend the garden or anything you need." She paused for breath, and made a dismayed face. That wasn't at all how she had intended it to go. She flushed, and fiddled with her purse. "Sorry..."

Bêthberry

06-23-2003, 07:45 AM

Bêthberry watched the timid and slightly tired young girl, her hands clutching a small wilted bundle of herbs, approach a very busy Aywlen. The Innkeeper approached her with a glass of water.

"Would you like to wet your parched throat? You look like you have been walking some distance." The Innkeeper's voice calmed the young girl, who smiled shyly and gulped the water.

"And so you say you would like a job here? We are in need of maids, for we have many rooms, almost two dozen. You know how to sweep a room tidy, make a bed so that the sheets stay tucked in, are willing to launder the sheets and towels as well?" The Innkeeper watched the girl's eyes as she answered.

"Oh, yes. I know how to get rid of wine stains and food stains. Blood stains as well."

"Well, let us hope we don't have many of those. We're not a fighting establishment, although we've seen our share of hard times. And we've a good, strong lad now to help keep order. Yes, Delia, I think you will be just what The Horse needs. Please, see Froma in the kitchen. He can give you a plate of food for lunch and then Aylwen can show you to the rooms upstairs."

Delia's eyes shone as she nodded with relief and skipped away to the kitchen.

The Innkeeper then went to the front desk to relieve Mialynn of her duties there.

"I'm sure Froma will need more help in the kitchen. I thank you for covering the Desk for me. And, don't be so concerned that your young brother and sisters will be a bother. I simply worry that children will be hurt by the horses if they scramble around in the stable, but feel free to let them play in the large sand pile beside the kitchen garden. Many of the children play there--in fact, Raven the violinist has just brought a large crowd of them there. And Leofan our new stable hand has a daughter who will be playing here as well. Landsakes, maybe we will have enough little voices here that someone can start a children's choir."

Mialynn nodded with a happy sigh and went off to finish her baking in the great kitchen.

Bêthberry peeked outside and saw that the new young lad who Aylwen had hired was helping Lachlan unload the kegs of ale and, in the kitchen garden, Iswyn was showing some of the children how to shell peas.

Things are falling into place, she thought with relief, and it is but mid-afternoon.

Bêthberry's serene hazel-green eyes then swept over the busy Inn with happiness and indeed some anticipation, for there were one or two others in particular she was waiting for.

[ June 23, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Daniel Telcontar

06-23-2003, 11:45 AM

Talan put down the keg he had carried, and placed it among the others in the dusty cellar. He removed a spider's web from his face, and then returned to the cart outside.

"Any more of them kegs?" He asked Lachlan, who gave him the last. Without much effort, Talan grabbed it and carried it down into the cellar. On his way up, he noticed the girl helping out in the kitchen. Although he was new, he hadn't seen her before and guessed she was newly employed also.

"Well, if me eyes ever looked at a finer sort..." he whispered to himself. The cook called her name and he was quick to catch it.
"Delia," he whispered.

He caught himself day-dreaming, and looked around. It didn't seem like there was any more work to be done, not anything that could be done by his big, rough hands. He sat down in a corner and waited for someone to need his help.

Aylwen Dreamsong

06-23-2003, 12:17 PM

Aylwen grinned as the little girl skipped off into the kitchens to get some food to eat. Delia was most likely scarcely more than a few years older than some of the children that were playing tag outside. Aylwen hoped Delia would come out of her shell and not be nervous around everyone once she got used to the folk around the inn.

"Oh yes! Bêthberry," exclaimed Aylwen suddenly, getting the Innkeeper's attention. "Leofan wanted me to tell you that he went off to get his family and he'd be back later today."

"That's fine, so long as he watches his daughter when she's around the stables and she doesn't get into trouble," replied Bêthberry, eyes on the children that sporadically ran by the door of the White Horse playing their games. "She can join the choir."

Aylwen chuckled at this and continued to sweep the floor. The tables still needed a quick clean-up, but Aylwen would take care of that later. Before long Delia came shuffling out of the kitchen, looking a little less shy as she finished the last bit of a piece of bread. She tapped on Aylwen's shoulder lightly, as if she were afraid of any sudden movement.

"All right, let's go. I'll show you the upstairs," said Aylwen gently to the girl. Delia nodded and Aylwen set the broom against the nearest table before leading Delia towards the stairs that led upstairs. Aylwen showed Delia one of the empty rooms on the far end of the upstairs hallway. There were two beds on either side of the window and a simple rug on the floor.

"Now, she said you'd been hired to...oh yes, make the beds and sweep a bit, like the other maids, right?" murmured Aylwen, talking more to herself than to Delia. Still the girl nodded and Aylwen smiled. "Well, I guess we'll assign you to tidy up this room and the six rooms next to it and across from it every morning."

Delia nodded, looking out of the doorway to the room to make certain she knew which rooms Aylwen was talking about. "All I want you to make sure of is that you don't sweep the dirt under the rug. That makes for a big mess later on when you're asked to wash the rug. Now, Why don't we go downstairs and you can ask Bêthberry about sleeping arrangements."

Delia smiled and the two walked back downstairs in silence. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they were met by the hustle and bustle of Lachlan, Talan, and Tar each carrying a crate into the Inn. Aylwen squinted her eyes, wondering what on earth was in the crates this time.

"What are those?" Aylwen asked Tar, who set his crate down on the floor, dust slightly billowing out.

"Doesn't look like you did a very good job, little cousin," replied Tar absently with a smile on his face. Aylwen glared at him, and he laughed. "More flowers."

"More flowers!" exclaimed Aylwen exasperatedly. Who had ordered more flowers? Had the flower man from before forgotten a few crates? Aylwen sighed and turned to Delia. "Do you know what kinds of flowers these are?"

"Yes ma'am," she replied once she had gotten a look at the flowers in the crate Lachlan had set down.

"Good. You and Talan can figure out something to do with them, right? I'm fresh out of ideas," continued Aylwen, eyeing the flower-decorated banners and tables. Talan pulled the covers off the crates as Delia began to think of ways to use the flowers.

"Tar, since you think you could do so much better about the dust," said Aylwen again, playfully shoving the broom into Tar's hands and ruffling his tousled dark hair. "You can sweep."

"Lachlan, if you wouldn't mind, could you perhaps go and make sure the children stay away from the stables while Leofan is out?" Aylwen finished her orders and went outside to see if anything else needed to be done before the party.

Outside, she heard the obvious notes of a happy fiddle being played over by the sand pile by the kitchen garden. Aylwen looked and walked over to the sound, since she could not see the performer beyond the group of huddled children that were laughing and giggling. The children made way for Aylwen when she walked over, and Aylwenwas able to see the violinist. It was a young woman with long dark hair and tan-brown skin, playing a cheerful song that made several of the children clap and giggle.

"Wonderful! A violinist!" exclaimed Aylwen once the woman's song was done. Aylwen figured that this might solve the problem of finding entertainers for the night's festivities. "Would you happen to know any other musicians around here?"

"I think so," replied the girl, putting the violin back in it's box. "I'm Raven."

"Hello Raven, I'm Aylwen," said the assistant innkeeper, scolding herself inwardly for forgetting her manners and introducing herself. "Would you like to play a bit for us at the White Horse tonight? We're in need of entertainment."

Orual

06-23-2003, 02:39 PM

Delia spun a little bundle of flowers by their stems, inhaling deeply. Her mother would use these flowers as potpourri. She would pick them in the late summer, and hang them from the rails of the stairs in their house.

"My mother said that these would help you think better, if you breathed right," she informed Talan. "My father thought it was nonsense, but Momma taught me all the different ways to use wildflowers. And my grandmother said that if you hung these above the doors, it used to mean that guests were welcome." Her eyes lit up. "Of course! That's what we can do with these. Hang them on the top of all the lintels, inside and out. All the interior doors, too. People might not understand, but they're pretty flowers any way you look at it."

Grinning, she began to deftly gather the flowers into small bundles and tie them with small bits of ribbon. "I'm Delia, by the way. I just got here. I'm fourteen, and I was an apprentice healer in Gondor. That's where I came from." She looked down when she saw Talan looking at her. "Sorry. I don't know what came over me that I'm talking so much."

Nurumaiel

06-23-2003, 06:58 PM

Leofan's house was only a short walk away, and at a canter he reached it in the space of a few minutes. Dismounting Mihtig quickly he stopped for only a few moments to look at his little house. It would have to be left alone for awhile, for his family would be living at the White Horse for a time. He pushed open the door and called out, "Frodides! Mærcwen! Come and hear this!"

A small freckle-faced child appeared out of seemingly nowhere and leaped into his arms. He kissed her cheek and carried her into the next room where his wife was sitting in front of a weaving loom. She looked up and her eyes lit up. Standing gracefully, she strode towards him and smiled. "You look pleased, Leofan," she said softly. "What is it that has happened? Has good fortune come our way at last?"

"I will not waste time explaining here," said he, taking his wife's hand and leading her outside. "Come with me and you will see, not hear." He placed his daughter on Mihtig and smiled as the horse nickered softly, greeting his 'sister.' Leofan then helped Frodides to mount. She looked down at him with a puzzled face. "It is just a short walk from here," said Leofan.

He took up the reins in his hands and began leading Mihtig forward. Frodides sat easily on the stallion's back, needing no support from the reins. Mærcwen swayed a little from side to side, and Frodides clasped her daughter's hands firmly and placed them on the horse's mane. "Grasp his mane, Mærcwen," she said. "You are not a skilled rider yet." Mærcwen giggled as Mihtig tossed his head up, feeling the little hands touch his neck.

The White Horse soon came into sight and Leofan pointed at it, saying no words, but his wife understood. She let loose a merry laugh and smoothed out her daughter's hair, kissing her on the top of the head. The child was already happy, but how much happier she would be when she knew no hunger! Frodides reached out and lay her hand on her husband's shoulder, smiling down at him with beaming eyes.

"Ætstandan, Mihtig, ætstandan," Leofan said softly. It was a word in the language of his people that meant stop, or halt, and it was by that word that Mihtig learned that he must stop. Leofan patted him in praise, and then held out his arms to help his wife and daughter dismount. Taking their hands in his, he brought them to the door of the inn. He pushed it open very gently, and led them in. Mærcwen gave a squeal of delight when she saw the other children.

"Now," said Leofan, releasing his daughter to go play, "go enjoy yourselves with the other children, and you, Frodides, introduce yourself to Bethberry and Aylwen. Maybe you could give them some assistance in preparing the party tonight?" Frodides nodded. "I must go tend to Mihtig and the other horses." He moved back to the door, and then paused. Looking over his shoulder, he added, "Perhaps you could ask Bethberry for me if there is any special task she would like me to perform in the stable?"

"Yes, Leofan," said Frodides, watching her husband go. Turning back to all the various faces, she felt a blush rising to her cheeks. She was not commonly a shy person, but she felt embarrassed being shoved through the door and told to speak with Bethberry and Aylwen. What a misfortune that her husband had not remembered that she knew not which of the many faces belonged to the aforesaid. Ducking her head, she stepped forward to her daughter who was already introducing herself to the other children.

Taralphiel

06-23-2003, 08:16 PM

Lachlan flashed a smile at Aylwen 'I'll put the cart in the stable and get to it right away!' Climbing up, and waving a thanks to Talan and Tar, he wound the horse and acrt round the back and into the stables. Once he had moved them into a clear space, he sauntered out to find a group of children skipping merrily about the gardens, and some ladies trying to make sure they caused as little trouble as possible.

With a small bow to the girls, he turned to the children 'Aha! What do we have here eh?' Some of the children recognised him and sqealed, and he proceeded to playfully chase them away from the danger of the moving hooves. Eventually getting them to sit down, he looked about for something to keep them occupied. Seeing a pile of stray wood, and a few knives he suddenly had an idea. The beautiful notes of the violin made the children giggle and grin, and when he suggested they make their own music, they were even more excited.

So he took up one of the knoves and began carving small makeshift pipes. Not of the best craft, they allowed only a few off notes. But that was enough to keep the children seated and much amused. Shifting his weight and leaning against the warm brick, he smiled and kept at his carving.

[ June 26, 2003: Message edited by: Taralphiel ]

DayVampyre

06-23-2003, 08:26 PM

Raven stood up, holding her box under one arm.

"I'm always in the mood to play, especially at parties, if that is what you're getting ready for?" Raven said

"Yes, it is! And it's been very hectic all morning!" Aylwen exclaimed, clearly venting out a bit a frustration.

"Does drinks on the house for tonight, sound like a fair trade? I can promise you won't regret it," Raven asked.

"I'll have to check, but if not, I'm sure we can arrange something."

Raven smiled

"alright then, lets see this place," Raven said and Aylwen led the way in.

As soon as Raven set foot inside the bustling inn, her senses were assailed by the aroma of flowers. It was quite an impressive display.

"we're still not quite done yet, but, we're definitly getting there," Raven nodded as she began to walk around, exploring the new territory.

Daniel Telcontar

06-24-2003, 03:45 AM

Talan looked at the flowers, not knowing what to think about this girl who spoke so fast, and he suddenly felt very plain and simple.

Like so many other times, he wished he had not lived the life he did, but there was no point thinking more about that. Instead he began hanging the flowers up, helping Delia as she wished. When her flow of words stopped, he looked down in the ground and said:

"I'm Talan, as you may know. Eh, the helper around here. And I also make sure nobody's messing around, you know, keep 'em in line and such."

After this introduction, he didn't know what to say, nor did he dare to lift his gaze and look at her. Finally, he took another bundle of flowers and hang them up on the rail.

Bêthberry

06-24-2003, 08:06 AM

The Innkeeper led Delia upstairs, the hallway now scented with a pleasant aroma from the sprigs the young girl had placed atop the door lintels.

Then, lifting a large key from the many which hung from her waistband, Bêthberry opened the door to a large closet, really a small room, to reveal piles of sheets, pillows and pillow cases, comforters, blankets, wash basins and water jugs, even chamber pots. Spare mattresses as well.

"Here, Delia, are the supplies you will need to prepare the rooms. Perhaps you can get Tar or Talen to help you lift the heavier items. I will unlock the six rooms at the end of the hallway and open the shutters to air them out. We don't usually use them, but perhaps we will have more overnight guests this eve."

Then, the rooms opened and aired, Bêthberry returned to the kitchen, now a veritable hive of activity not just with action but with Froma' stinging exhortations as well, and spoke briefly with the irrascible cook. She took from him the long menu to be posted in the mead hall and then turned to Mia and Iswyn.

"Mia, could you please pile clean tankards and glasses on the bar and the large buffet in the mead hall? Oh, and, we will need extra help washing dishes for tonight. Iswyn, could you find several of the older children who might be relied upon to help you wash? Five silver coins to each child who helps--really helps--without any breakage."

Finally, returning to the entrance hall where her desk lay covered with table cloths and napkins, Bêthberry came upon the shy young woman Frodides.

"Please, Ma'am, are you Bêthberry the Innkeeper?" the woman curtsied. "Would you have need of any more help here? I am Frodides and I am good at cleaning and serving. You've hired my husband, Leofan, as stable hand." Two young girls hid behide her long skirt.

Bêthberry looked the woman over. Her clothes were neat but worn, obviously second and third hand. Hesitation and care marked her eyes. A small smile spread over the Innkeeper's face.

"Well, now, it seems I have inherited the entire family. You've a need for honest work and I've a need for good help. I liked your husband's face and now yours as well, despite your habit of serial application." Bêthberry's grin widened.

"Well, I like cleverness as much as honesty, and am even more pleased when the two meet. Yes, Frodides, I'll take you on, as serving maid in the mead hall. Keep your eyes and wits about you, though, for patrons come in all shapes and sorts and mind none trick you with leaving 'er they show you their penny for their potage. And there's a passle of children out behind the kitchen garden. Mayhap your bairns will find friends there."

The Innkeeper then turned to the large bulletin board and posted Froma's menu for the party:

Dandelion Salad
Marinated Asparagus
Swiss chard, chick pea, sweet pepper and bulgar salad
Fig, Arugula and walnut Salad, with Goat cheese
Mixed Greens

Spitted Side of Beef
Chicken and Leek pies
Grilled Lamb chops
Baked trout with raisin stuffing

Parsnip patties
Salmon stuffed potato skins
Lentil, carrot and onion casserole
Mushrooms, spinach, and cheese tart
Peas and cream

Chilled poached pears
Apple barley pudding
Cherry cobbler
Raspberry Fool

Ginger mead, Cider, Ales, Strawberry punch, Pink Lavender lemonade
Tea, Coffee

[ June 24, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Nurumaiel

06-24-2003, 11:22 AM

Frodides gave another curtsy, joy flooding her heart. She clasped her daughter's hand. "Thank you miss," she said. Hesitating for a moment, she added, "My husband wanted to know if there was any special task you would like him to peform in the stable."

"Yes," said Bethberry. "Tell him to prepare the stalls for the horses of many guests, and give him my message that I hope it won't be too much for him."

A soft smile touch Frodides lips and she gave a little nod of her head. "Yes, miss, but there is no need. My husband can handle that and more." She moved towards the door, slowed by the weight of her daughter still clinging to her skirt. She bent down and spoke a few words to her, but the little girl shook her head vigorously and clung harder. Frodides straightened and turned back to Bethberry. "Would it be all right if my daughter, Mærcwen, came into the stable with me? It appears she doesn't want to stay here alone."

Bethberry nodded. "As long as you make sure she doesn't hurt herself," she said. She gave Mærcwen a warm smile. The girl blushed, but, her face half-hidden by her mother's skirt, shyly smiled back.

Frodides lifted her daughter up and carried her out of the inn. It was much easier than dragging her, and the mother didn't want her daughter to get dirty be dragged along the ground when a party was so close ahead. Mærcwen giggled and put her arms around her mother's neck giving her a kiss on the cheek. Frodides smiled and kissed her back, loving that freckled, smiling face so close to her own. How blessed she was to have such a sweet daughter!

Inside the stable Leofan was cleaning out a stall and talking to Mihtig and the same time. Frodides smiled and let Mærcwen softly to the ground, clasping her hand firmly. She highly doubted that any of the horses currently residing in the stable were ill-tempered, but some of them might be a bit more spookish than Mihtig, and they didn't know little Mærcwen, who would feel perfectly safe crawling under their legs and the like.

Frodides delivered Bethberry's message, and Leofan noddded. "I can handle it all with no worry," he said. "The stable here is a beautiful one, as are the horses."

"Yes," said Frodides. "Now I must go back into the inn and carry out my duties as best I may." And she told Leofan about her new job. He caught her up in his arms and first kissed her, then his daughter, laughing. Frodides laughed along with him. They both knew what this meant. After his wife had left the inn, Mærcwen in her arms, Leofan turned to Mihtig. "Well, do you hear that? Your mother is also working, and now there shall be no chance of either you or Mærcwen going hungry."

Mihtig whinnied his agreement, and then walked to the corner of his stall and slowly began to doze off. Leofan watched him until he was in a light sleep, then resumed with his work. Later he would bring his daughter in to watch him work. He was always able to converse easier with children than adults, and he loved listening to their different interesting, amusing speeches while he tended to the horses. Pausing once more in what he was doing, he spoke softly his hope that the other children in the inn would befriend him as well. Then he continued cleaning the stall.

Manardariel

06-25-2003, 08:01 AM

Quietly humming to herself, Mia placed glass after glass after glass.... and suddenly she had a brilliant idea. Her face spread into one of her extra-wide grins as she carefully opened the window of the hall, looking outside into the square.

"Fianna!" she called. The girl looked up from her game and skipped to the window. "Fianna, do your friends like to sing?" When the girl nodded eagerly, Mia beckoned her nearer and wispered plans into her ear. While she spoke, the younger sister´s face got wider and brighter with exitement. Mialynnn watched her run off again, and pleased noted the children gathering around her. "Brilliant!" she smiled. Now, back to those glasses...

While the pile of glasses got smaller and smaller, Mia´s eyes strained outside, ans sometimes he thought she could hear the light jingle of children´s voices in song.

"I´m sorry, could you maybe help me?" Mia turned around to see a young woman, with a young girl of perhaps Briga´s age tightly grasping her mother´s hand. She looked unfamiliar, though Mia was sure she had seen the girl´s eyes somewhere already, though she couldn´t place them.

"Yes?" she asked, studying the woman. She was quite beautiful, and had something around her that made Mia immeadiatly like her. She flashed a wide grin and extended her hand. "I´m Mia, I´m a serving maid here."

"I´m Frodides, and this is my daughter Mærcwen. I was just hired as a serving maid, as well. The Misstres Bêthberry just asked me to help you with these glasses, and that we should afterwards set up some of the breads..." her voice trailed away, while she nervously smiled at Mia, who grinned brightly.

"Another maid, you say? Brilliant. Shall we, then? Tankards here, pitchers there, glasses in the cor-" she was interrupted by a squeel from the vat in the corner. Dierna, obviously hungry, started tittering and protesting. Mia sighed, took her up and cradled her a bit. "Hush, hush little one. You´ll get your lunch, yes.."

She looked up at Frodides, who was bewilderedly staring at her. Mia half-sighed and gave a little smile. "Frodides, meet my sister. Say hi, Dierna...."

Aylwen Dreamsong

06-25-2003, 11:42 AM

"Right, now I don't think there will be too much of a problem with you having your end of the deal, so long as you stay under control. I trust that Talan will help you with that if the drinks go to your head," continued Aylwen sternly, though she was almost certain there would be no trouble with Raven.

"However, who has ever heard of a one-instrument playing band? Surely although I enjoy the sound of your violin, the guests would also enjoy the sounds of a full group. You said you knew other musicians around here, correct?" Aylwen asked Raven, who nodded as Aylwen began to lead her out of the White Horse. "Good. Why don't you do see if they'd be interested?"

"Alright. I'll be back," said Raven as she walked down the street away from the White Horse, violin box in hand. Aylwen was glad of her choice of musician, for Raven seemed to have loved music when Aylwen saw her playing to the children.

Aylwen turned, hearing the sounds of voices trying to sing in unison near the kitchen-garden door. She walked over to the choir of children, straining to sing together and in tune. Aylwen chuckled, and pulled her pipes from her belt-sash. She played a simple tune, catching the children's attention.

"How would you all like to learn a new song? You can sing it for Bêthberry and all our guests tonight!" Aylwen suggested, sitting down so that she was close enough to the children's height. Some of the children nodded, others clapped or jumped up and down.

"Alright then!" exclaimed Aylwen happily. She had the perfect song in mind. It was simple, and a tad repetitive, but would do well for the children. "The song is called 'A Hundred Years Ago'. I'll sing the first verse, and you repeat after me, alright?"

Aylwen brought the panpipes to her lips, choosing the fourth pipe. She began the tune, remembering the first verse:

"A hundred years is a very long time,
Oh, yes, oh!
A hundred years is a very long time,
A hundred years ago."

The children repeated what Aylwen had sung, in a tune and pitch that was nearly perfect. Aylwen piped the bridge on her pipes and began the second and third verses.

"They used to think that pigs could fly
Oh, yes, oh!
I don't believe it, no, not I!
A hundred years ago.

They thought the stars were set a-light
Oh, yes, oh!
By some good angel every night,
A hundred years ago!

Aylwen paused for a moment after the third verse, searching the small crowd of children. "Come up here, child!" she said, to one little girl in the crowd. "What is your name, sweet?"

"Fainna," the little girl replied, eyeing Aylwen's pipes.

"Well, Fainna, would you like to sing the last verse of this song?" Aylwen asked, letting Fainna hold her panpipes.

"Alone?" Fainna wondered, examining the pipes and turning them over to look at them through the flute holes.

"Yes, but I'm sure you will do well. The last verse is simple, it is like the first. Do you remember how the first verse goes?" Aylwen asked as Fainna handed the pipes back to Aylwen. Fainna nodded, and sang the first verse perfectly:

"A hundred years is a very long time,
Oh, yes, oh!
A hundred years is a very long time,
A hundred years ago."

"Good job. Now, practice this song, and don't get into trouble with Froma for standing too close to the kitchen garden. If you still want to, you can sing it tonight for everyone. I have to go and get back to work, but I trust you, Fainna, to have these rascals trained and ready to sing by tonight!" said Aylwen in mock seriousness as she waved goodbye to the children and walked back into the White Horse.

Tar was still sweeping, and Aylwen grinned at his attempts to discreetly swipe the dirt under one of the rugs.

"Tar, I thought you were trying to sweep up and clean the floor," began Aylwen, bending to the ground and wiping her hand shortly across the floor.

"I was! It is a whole lot better than when you were sweeping. I'm almost done!" said Tar proudly. Aylwen grinned and shook her index finger at him.

"Then please explain to me why there is still a good layer of dust here," said the assistant innkeeper, showing Tar her dusty hand. "Or perhaps you just missed a spot?"

Tar laughed, and Aylwen watched as he got back to work. His clothes were so loose on him! Tar was a lot skinnier than the last time Aylwen had seen him. Why, he was practically skin and bones and messy hair now! But Aylwen felt a little better as she promised herself that she would make sure Tar got enough to eat tonight from Froma.

Everything was going well, and things were starting to pick up at the White Horse inn.

Nurumaiel

06-25-2003, 11:59 AM

Frodides smiled back at Mia. "Thank you for your help," she said. She looked at Dierna and gave her a kind look. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Dierna." Letting go of her daughter's hand, she gave her a gentle push forward, leaning down and whispering in her ear. Mærcwen spread out her skirt, and made a deep curtsy, saying, "I am pleased to meet you, Mia and Dierna."

"How sweet!" Mia said, laughing a little. Mærcwen blushed prettily and curtsied again. Mia smiled at her, and then she looked up at Frodides, a light in her eyes. Frodides did not notice; she was too busy with the glasses. "Frodides, can your daughter sing?" she asked.

Frodides gave Mia a look of surprise, and then laughed, lifting her daughter up and setting her down next to the glasses. "Yes, miss, she certainly can," she replied, tweaking her daughter's nose. "She loves to sing... and dance." She set down a glass she had just finished and picked up another one, smiling a little as she recalled those nights at home when Mærcwen would perform for her weary father after a long day of looking for work.

Mia smiled widely. "And you say she can dance?" At Frodides nod, Mia continued on rapidly. "You know of the party tonight? We are planning on having a children's choir sing, and Mærcwen should join them." She began speaking quicker as her excitement grew. "But if Mærcwen can dance, she could teach some of my sister's one of the ones she knows and they could perform a dance routine tonight!"

"What a wonderful idea!" Frodides cried. "Mia, let us do that, shall we?" She began working on another glass, and they began to discuss costumes, dances, and music for their planned performance that night. A suggestion from Mia that two of the girls could dance while the rest of the children sang threw Frodides into more excitement. With all their planning, the time passed merrily and the work of cleaning glasses was soon done.

Manardariel

06-25-2003, 12:27 PM

"How time flows when one has a delightful companion!" Mia thought, while she and Frodides merrily talked away. Her lttle daughter had dissapeared into the kitchen garden, and it wasn´t for long when Mia thought she heard her and Briga fighting over a dance step.

"You know?" she told Frodides. "I think we hould make them all wear little hats, and in the end they can throw them up in the air. And you know something else? I think we should keep this as a suprise for the Misstress. After all this was her idea..." she grinned, imagining Bethberry´s stunned look when she found out the choir she´d playfully mentioned was becoming reality.

At that moment, Deor came running at her. "Mia, that´s not fair, Fianna says I have to sing, but I really, really don´t want to! Can I go into the stables, please?"

Mia laughed. "That´s fine, you don´t have to, if you really don´t want to. But do me a favour. Run home and get as many of those hats the the apprentices use as you can possibly carry. And do me a favour, don´t let yourself be seen by Bethberry. Ok?"

He nodded seriously, and dashed off. Mia smiled and turned to Frodides.

"Baker´s caps will do for hats, don´t you think?"

[ June 25, 2003: Message edited by: Manardariel ]

Bêthberry

06-26-2003, 06:50 AM

It is now 5 pm and party time. Townsfolk will be arriving and travellers, too, as well as the staff of the Inn. Keep track of all the activities so that there is a consistent narrative thread!

There will be feasting of course and merriment, some speeches and musical interludes and, in the finest tradition of gatherings, stories and songs. Don't be afraid to let your character speak up and tell a tale of the olden days.

Nonesuch

06-27-2003, 07:31 AM

Shambling along the road was an ill-kempt man. His hair might have been blonde but was matted with dirt so that its color could not easily be determined. On his feet were roughly fashioned shoes made of leather and string. They kicked up dust as he shuffled along slowly towards no specific destination.

One arm hung by his side, useless and shrivelled; the hand fixed in a permanent and immovable claw. His other arm worked well enough, though his palm and fingers were calloused and his nails dirty. Grey and tattered were his clothes though they might have begun as some other color. A belt of rope held up his trousers which were a bit too short and revealed dirty and scuffed shins. On the belt hung a scabbard of black leather trimmed with blackened metal. In it was a short sword with well-fashioned hilts. Its pommel was covered with a patch of cloth bound by strips of leather.

A Man of the Mark passed by at a fast trot, mounted on a fine steed. The man stepped to the side and looked up as the golden-haired rider clattered by without a glance. With a hint of a shrug, the man walked on. He approached a large building with stables and outlying sheds, encircled by a shoulder-high wall. Fumbling through his pockets, the man withdrew a handful of copper coins. These he returned to his pocket with sagging shoulders. He looked briefly up at the sky before shuffling on.

Again he heard the sound of hooves behind him. Once more, he stepped to the side of the road to allow the horse and rider to pass. However, the rider slowed and paused beside the man. The green field and white horse of the Eotheod gleamed upon the rider's livery in the westering sun. The horse stepped restlessly from side to side as its rider contemplated the grim aspect of the traveller. Then, with a slight grin, the rider dug into a pouch and tossed a few silver coins to the man who caught them neatly with his good hand before they reached the ground. They each nodded and continued on their ways.

The traveller took the path to the large building and stopped below a placard bearing the sign of the White Horse. He swayed from side to side uncertainly as he fingered his new found wealth and looked longingly at the door.

Aylwen Dreamsong

06-27-2003, 01:27 PM

The Inn had become quite crowded in little time. Aylwen thought it couldn't have gotten any more chaotic than the preparations, but she was wrong and realized it early on in the party. However, things had been going well and there had been no trouble yet involving rowdy drinkers. Perhaps just the sight of Talan scared most into drinking sensibly. Raven had come through with a good group of musicians to play for the party, for which Aylwen was very grateful and happy. Leofan had been called in from the stables for a while to enjoy the party, and many of the children had come in as well.

Raven began one song with a jolly and light tune on her fiddle, which was followed closely by the sound of a flute. One of the musicians, who Aylwen believed to be the drummer, began to sing a song he called 'The Nightingale':

One morning, one morning, one morning in May
I spied a young couple all on the highway
And one was a lady so bright and so fair
And the other was a soldier, a brave volunteer

Good morning, good morning, good morning to thee,
Now where are you going my pretty lady?
I'm going to travel to the banks of the sea
To see the waters gliding, hear the nightingales sing.

They hadn't been there but an hour or two
Till out of his knapsack a fiddle he drew
The tune that he played caused the vallies to ring.
O harken, says the lady, how the nightingales sing.

Pretty lady, pretty lady, 'tis time to give o're.
O no, pretty soldier, please play one tune more.
I'd rather hear your fiddle at the touch of one string
Than to see the waters gliding, hear the nightingales sing.

Pretty soldier, pretty soldier, will you marry me?
O no, pretty lady that never can be.
I've a wife back in London and children twice three.
Two wives in the army is too many for me.

Many folk in the inn began to clap their hands or tap their feet, and a few sang along. Children sat around at a lower table that Lachlan had set up from the back, and some sipped Strawberry Punch, pretending to be grown-ups at a feast. Several of the children wore what looked to be baker's hats, which confused Aylwen, but she didn't think twice about it.

Between serving drinks and keeping her balance with the children running around, Aylwen made certain that Tar got enough to eat, and that Delia met a few visiters and perty-goers her own age. The party was going well, with few troubles or problems.

Amanaduial the archer

06-27-2003, 02:00 PM

To go just after Aylwen's post before last

Tar grinned at Aylwen as she reached up to ruffle his already messy hair, then returned, with an exaggerated sigh, to sweeping the floor, as Aylwen left. But not before he saw her eyes sweep concernedly across his thin body.

Tar knew he must look a state- the clothes he wore at the moment had been, shall we say, 'liberated' from its previous owner yesterday. Aylwen would have a fit if she knew that, but he had been terrified of turning up in the more than a little ragged, worn clothing he had been wearing until then. He cared for her, couldn't pretend that he didn't, but she had such class- he would hate for her to turn her nose up at him. A ridiculous thought really, kind, down to earth Aylwen Dreamsong turning her nose up at Tar, but then, he thought bitterly, it wouldn't be the first time in the past year that one who had proffessed to be his friend had turned their back on him. Looking after Aylwen, his brown eyes soulful and deep, he hoped more than anything that she wouldn't find out why he was like this.

Thenamir

06-27-2003, 03:48 PM

Five minutes walk from the entrance of the White Horse a hammer rang down in a slow rhythm upon the curved blade glowing in malleable orange-red atop the well-worn anvil. 'Twas no spear-tip or sword of war from tales of battle glory, just the head of a simple farm axe. That did not stop the meaty hand that gripped the hammer from ringing it just as soundly upon the shapen metal, nor did it lessen the joy that the man at the other end of that massive arm took in his labors.

Laevin the blacksmith took pride not in making things of great craft and beauty, but in making quality items useful to the everyday people of Rohan. Things like plowshares, pruning hooks, and yes, axes. His smithing skill was not quite as high as that of the dwarves with whom the people sometimes traded, but then neither were his prices. While there were Riders of the Mark in this town, there was not too much demand for armor and swords (though he could fashion them with some skill). He was by no means a rich man, but he was good at what he did, and he enjoyed what he did, and he was well-liked in the community. Life was good.

He thrust the axe-head back into the center of the fire with his long black tongs and stepped back to wipe the grimy sweat from his face with his equally grimy kerchief. The light of the setting sun was beginning to peek in under the roof, glistening in reflection upon the wet-leather apron he wore to keep stray sparks from igniting his clothes. Shading his eyes, Laevin began to think about shutting down the shop for the day. Bethberry over at the White Horse Inn had seen him the day before about some new ironwork for the kitchen, and had invited him to a party this evening, and he would not want to be late. He turned again and strode purposefully to the furnace. Switching to a smaller hammer he pounded out the axe's finer edge, allowing the furnace fire to die away with the glow in the axe head. Dipping the axe head in a bucket of water with a steaming hiss, he decided he'd just have time to clean himself up a bit. He headed for the dwelling-half of his small house.

Half an hour, several buckets of cold well-water, a bit of soap, and a change of clothes later, the powerfully-built smith stepped out of his front door a changed man. He was dressed in what he called his "relaxin'" clothes, freshly washed so as not to have the smoke and sweat smell ever-present in his house -- to Laevin it was a comforting smell, but it didn't seem to affect others quite the same way. The sun was near to setting, but he could have found his way to and from the White Horse in the blind dark. He had enjoyed many a night there with a mug of ale and a roomful of friends, and it was his favorite way of ending a day, when he had time. And with the proceeds of a recent sale jingling in his pocket, it was all the better.

He was a bit early when he arrived, but the doorway was blocked by a ragged traveller, probably a beggar, who regarded the sign and the door at length. Realizing what was going thru the man's mind, Laevin walked up and clapped the man on the back. "Welcome, friend!" he said in a booming baritone, Don't be shy, come on in! Your dinner tonight is on me!" The man looked up into Laevin's face with a haggard grin of thanks. Laevin opened the door, put an arm around the man's shoulder and practically dragged the traveller in with him.

"Bethberry! So good to see you!" he shouted across the room at the innkeeper who was obviously busy putting the finishing touches on party preparations. She waved a cheery hello to the newcomers as she approached, setting down her work. Her face fell just a bit at the sight of the worn traveller, but her smile never faltered. "My dear Bethberry," Laevin said, "this man will need food and lodging for tonight, I'll take care of the bill, there's a good girl." The mouths of both Bethberry and the traveller fell open in surprise and astonishment. He turned to the man and said, "join me here once you've had a chance to freshen up a bit." He then strode over to his favorite table, leaving a speechless pair in his wake.

Bêthberry

06-27-2003, 07:41 PM

Bêthberry watched Leavin proceed cheerily to his favourite table and was again thankful that Edoras had such good-hearted citizens as he. Then she turned to the bedraggled traveller who seemed astonished by the act of kindness. There were too many such as he struggling throughout the land these days.

"Come, we've lots of room for travellers tonight. I'll get Delia to show you to your room and draw some hot water for you to freshen up. Mind you don't take too long, for if I miss my quess, Leavin will be seriously disappointed if he has to wait too long before he can share some tales and ale with you."

With exhaustion mixed with hesitation, the man nodded and followed Delia to his room.

The Innkeeper then popped into the kitchen, where Froma, his face flushed less by the heat of the ovens than by his favoured ale, was doing his best to run his staff ragged. She winked at Iswyn.

"Froma, I think the children will be deserving of a treat today. Could you see they get some strawberries and cream?"

"And am I now the nursery help?" the bluff fellow retorted, rubbing his floured hands in his great apron before taking another gulp of his tankard.

"Well now, if you drown your culinary talents in too much ale you might be wanting another occupation."

"Be off with ye and out of my kitchen before you say another miserable word about my food. I'll have none descrying my cooking here, not even you, Innkeeper."

A grin spread across his face as he said this, a grin matched by one on Bêthberry's face as well. With a nod, she withdrew, almost running into Mia whose arms were laden with dirty plates and glasses and who called for four more servings of beef and pies.

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Taralphiel

06-27-2003, 09:24 PM

Lachlan stretched back in a large chair nursing a mug of ale, and watching the little ankle-biters swarm around the room. It had been a surprisingly tough time keeping them all under guard that afternoon, but not a completely unenjoyable task.

The Inn now smelt of good food and drink, and the music from Lady Aylwen's pipes weaved around through the ears of all, bringing quite a merry mood. But Lachlan was content to sit and watch, knowing his reputation for being a trouble-maker at these sort of occasions was well known. But he was determined to enjoy his evening off from the cellars, and proceeded to empty his mug with great satisfaction, still tapping his feet to the music...

Nurumaiel

06-27-2003, 09:51 PM

Frodides stood up and clapped her hands loudly, bringing the room's attention to herself. Putting on hand behind her back, she made a gesture to the children with it. They understood the signal and stood up, some of them grabbing at their baker hats to ensure they wouldn't fall off. "The children's choir would now like to sing a little song for you," said Frodides. "They tell me it is a song of the Hobbits, of whom they hear tell of in tales. I don't know if this is true or not, but no doubt you will enjoy the song immensely."

Frodides stepped back and leaned over to Aylwen, whispering something in her ear. The latter nodded and moved to stand next to the children, striking up a merry tune. The children stood there awkwardly for a moment, and then they began to sing. Softly at first, but slowly their voices grew louder as they grew accustomed to the idea of singing in front of a crowd of people. Mærcwen, being the lass she was, found no difficultly in singing loudly and sweetly.

I'll tell my ma when I go home
The boys won't leave the girls alone
They pulled my hair, they stole my comb
But that's all right till I go home.
She is handsome, she is pretty
She is the bell of Bywater city
She is counting one, two, three
Please won't you tell me who is she.

All the children save one closed their mouths and turned their eyes to Fianna, who now had her grand moment in singing a solo part. Taking a deep breath, she began to sing clearly:

Halfast Proudfoot says he loves her
All the boys are fighting for her
They knock at the door and they ring at the bell
Sayin' "Oh my true love, are you well?"
Out she comes as white as snow
Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes
Old LothoHeadstrong says she'll die
If she doesn't get the fellow with the roving eye.

The group of children together sang the chorus together, and then Mærcwen struck out alone, singing without the slightest hint of shyness. Frodides smiled proudly as she listened to her daughter's voice.

Let the wind and rain and the hail blow high
And the snow come tumblin' from the sky
She's as nice as apple pie
She'll get her own lad by and by.
When she gets a lad of her own
She won't tell her ma when she goes home
Let them all come as they will
For it's Halfast Proudfoot she loves still.

And then, once again, the children sang the choir together, and all of them, inspired after listening to Fianna and Mærcwen solos, sang louder and clearer than the other times.

I'll tell my ma when I go home
The boys won't leave the girls alone
They pulled my hair, they stole my comb
But that's all right till I go home.
She is handsome, she is pretty
She is the bell of Bywater city
She is counting one, two, three
Please won't you tell me who is she.

She is handsome, she is pretty
She is the bell of Bywater city
She is counting one, two, three
Please won't you tell me who is she.

Please won't you tell me who is she.

The children finished and stepped back into their chairs with little bows, smiling proudly at the loud applause that echoed across the room. Mia and Frodides went forward to sisters and daughter, giving them words of praise. Mia took Fianna's hands in hers and whispered softly, "Now, Fianna, what song would you like to sing alone with Mærcwen? Whatever you choose, you two will sing."

[ June 29, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Garen LiLorian

06-27-2003, 11:33 PM

Corrin paused with his hand on the door as the high, clear sound of children's voices rung out into the night. His face fell into a smile, an expression that fitted the little man. He waited for the song to come to an end before opening the door, then, most uncharacteristally, slid quietly to the nearest available chair, applauding the youngsters, all of whom seemed pleased and flustered at so much attention. As the applause died down, two of the little ones stood forward again, faces in the too-serious expression of the very young. Corrin leaned back. It was good to be back. He could tell he was going to enjoy this.

Sophia the Thunder Mistress

06-28-2003, 02:32 AM

Iswyn grinned from where she sat at a small table in the inn's Great Hall, her feet were tired and her face was smudged with garden dirt, but her eyes were riveted on a nearly empty pan on the table in front of her. Hissing and blowing on it, the girl picked the last scraps of the baked apple and barley out of the pan, eating them with her fingers. Iswyn had snatched the nearly empty pan from the kitchen after Froma had finished transferring the larger part of the dessert to an elaborate serving bowl.

Another girl about her age scurried past intent on something, and Iswyn's eyes follwed her with interest. When she passed again, Iswyn called to her. "Hey," Iswyn waved a hand in the air, geturing toward the seat beside her. The girl slid into the seat Iswyn had indicated, and Iswyn cheerfully pushed the pan of crumbs toward her, chattering all along. "I'm Iswyn, I work here, with Froma in the kitchen. Mostly I do dishes and clean and such, but sometimes I do the garden with Miz Bethberry... what's your name?"

The other girl spoke from around a mouthful of apple. "Delia, I just came to work here." Iswyn grinned, the news could not be more delightful. Scooping another bit of apples into her mouth she pushed her sleeves back up above her elbows and stood up.

"Gorgo sheckif Roma," she swallowed hard. "Gotta go check if Froma needs me to do anything." Leaving the slightly wide-eyed girl behind her, Iswyn scampered back to the kitchen, delighted to find the party in full swing.

Daniel Telcontar

06-28-2003, 06:21 AM

Talan stood in a corner of the great hall. He was needed at the time, and the friendly assistent innkeeper had suggested he joined the feast in the Great Hall. Talan had done so, but not because he wanted to. The Hall was filled with people, well-dressed and perfumed ladies, men in fancy clothes. He could hear their conversation, up-styled words and issues that he had never heard about. His childhood had taught him to hide from those with money and nobility, and yet here they were, gathered to have a good time.

He went back into the kitchen, and sat in a chair. All around there was food, and all kinds of it; Pies, cookies, fruits, different kinds of meat and lots of ale and wine. The cook, Froma, dismissed that lass he had helped with the flowers. He looked at her until she turned her head, and he quickly turned his head down, embarassed at being caught in staring. She came and sat next to him, but did not speak.

"You're not much for parties either?", he asked after some silence. Delia did not answer, she merely nodded.
"Nor me. I am most comfortable here, and not with all those people. I keep wondering what they think when they look at me." He did not know what else to say; he had never been a man of many words, and now, more than usual, did he notice his lack of eloquency.

[ July 01, 2003: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]

Estelyn Telcontar

06-28-2003, 07:29 AM

When she heard the knock on the door, Annawyn reached up to pat her hair, reassuring herself that all was in place. She smoothed the skirt of her dark blue dress, having taken off her working pinafore. On an impulse, she snatched a colourfully embroidered shawl on her way out. That should give a festive note to my attire, she thought, then opened the door to join the waiting girls.

She smiled to see not only Mellaith and Ravenna, but several of the older apprentices and seamstresses as well. The young women had their disagreements and rivalries at times, but for those who lived in her house, the others were like a family. They are my only family as well, she mused as they walked to the White Horse Inn. She accompanied them to keep a watchful, protective eye on them, but she looked forward to enjoying the evening herself too.

Music wafted toward them as they entered the Inn; the girls scattered to greet acquaintances and to admire the decoration. Annawyn waved across the room at Aylwen, who was busy supervising the musicians and welcoming guests. She could not see Bêthberry at first glance; she was most likely busy somewhere and sure to show up in a rush of activity soon.

Annawyn stopped to exchange a few words with Laevin, the blacksmith. They stopped talking to listen to the children sing and applauded enthusiastically when they were finished. Then the seamstress continued to walk around the room leisurely, pausing to chat with friends and introducing herself to some of the many newcomers.

The Ruling Ring

06-28-2003, 08:55 AM

"I'm a glass maker, but not a window-washer," Barthaew mumbled, pressing harder on the pane inches from him. He was knelt on the wide sill, high up on the wall of his mother's house. He knew he shouldn't have told her he'd come help her clean her house today.

Surely, it was the right thing to do. But still, from this very (smudged) window, he could see the party unfolding. He wanted to go! But he couldn't leave his mother now, he knew. Stealing a furtive glance down at the old woman, who was picking dust out of the folds of her old comforter, he deposited a bit of spit into the rag in his hand, rubbing at the glass again with it. She didn't like it when he did that, but now, the rag was actually making progress, or so it seemed.

At long last, Barthaew got down from the sill, depositing the filthy rag into his pocket.

"I'm finished," he said quietly. "What else would you like me to do?"

His mother looked up at him with eyes narrowed with age. Her face broke into a smile.

"I'd like you to be happy, my son," she said. "Such a fair face as that hidden under a grimace, it's no wonder you aren't married yet. Go on, go to the Inn. I know that's where you want to be."

Barthaew's jaw dropped.

"But--but--," he sputtered.

"Go on, you're finished," his mother continued. "And don't think that I do not appreciate what you do for me."

****************************

Barthaew was in such a hurry, he almost forgot the bag of mugs he'd made on his wheel yesterday, and promised to bring to the Innkeeper. Even if they couldn't be used now, he might as well take them.

He stepped into the hall and froze in the doorway. There were many people here. He could hear singing and laughter...and he was suddenly very grateful to his mother.

[ June 28, 2003: Message edited by: The Ruling Ring ]

Child of the 7th Age

06-28-2003, 07:00 PM

Child stood in his lodgings at the Inn, staring out the second floor window at the commonplace scenes of the marketplace and roadway that were spread out before him on the steet. Immediately below his window were all manner of folk hustling about on business. Peddlers, workmen, young appentices, and artisans, the whole variety of those who labor, streamed by in an unending parade. They were mostly hurrying to get home at the end of a long, tiring workday; a few had turned off towards the White Horse, intending to join the party there.

From the common room on the first floor, the smells and sounds of the celebration wafted up the stairwell. Child shook his head. He should definitely go downstairs to join the others. Bethberry had been gracious enough to put on this celebration to welcome him home to Rohan and to honor his new duties at the Inn. He hadn't been sure whether or not he should agree to coming here, but she had assured him they could take things a day at a time and see if the situation worked out for both of them. Bethberry had been so gentle and gracious that Child could not imagine saying no to her and bringing a frown to that kindly face.

But now he had received a letter from his brother, a letter that welcomed him back to Rohan and inquired how soon he would be able to ride out to their home, a wide expanse of grassland and manor house set far outside the city. For the tenth time he glanced down and reread the ending of the message:

Father wishes to meet with you and make amends for any misunderstandings that have occurred in the past. He has spoken with the steward in Theoden's court, and they have need of a Bard with your qualifications and talents. You would have a comfortable position in a setting that accords with our family's station in life. Father believes that you've always had a head for matters of statecraft and that, with your skills and the connections you have as a member of our family, you could easily rise to become one of the counselors in the King's court.

Think well on it before you answer. This would surely be a better situation than your present one at the White Horse, and something that father could understand and respect.

Your brother,

Baldor

Child sighed and set the letter down. This was not something he could decide in the space of a few minutes. It would take more reflection than that. Indeed, his answer to this missive could well determine what direction he would be heading for the rest of his life, and what his relations with his father and brothers would be. Best wait a few days before he responded to see how things developed at the Inn and to make sure that he chose his pathway with care.

He slipped on his clean breeches and embroidered doublet, slung the harp over his shoulder, walking down the hallway, descending the stairs, and stepping inside the common room to join the celebation.

[ June 28, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Lyra Greenleaf

06-29-2003, 05:09 PM

Theora walked slowly through Edoras. It was a lovely sunny day and she rarely went into town. Just looking around at all the people instead of endless miles of grass and hundreds of horses, made today seem special. It felt like a holiday. She slipped into daydreams. A tall young man with light brown hair winked at her and she blushed. Two little girls ran out of a side alley and chased each other around Theora's legs. A man on a horse had to pull sharply on the reins as she walked dreamily down the road. It was almost a shock when she finally came to the place she had been looking for.

"The White Horse Inn" she murmured to herself under her breath. Mama had said it was a reputable place, very suitable for a young girl to get her first job. Mama had said that Theora had to do well. Mama had said that she was bot to go off into her dreams and break all the inn's crockery. Mama had said that she wanted Theora to find a husband. Theora sighed suddenly, the brightness gone from the day. With so much to do it no longer seemed like a holiday.

She stood for a while gazing solemnly at the creaking sign above the inn door. It seemed final, somehow, going in through the door. It seemed like beginning a new life and she wasn't sure if she was ready. Automatically Theora flicked her long blonde plait behind her back from where it had been hanging over her shoulder. There was no other choice than to go in, really, and hope that the people were nice.

Pushing the door open, noise hit her like a gust of air. There were many people inside the inn, more than she had expected. Nervously she approached a friendly looking woman.
"Ex-" she whispered, then cleared her throat. What could they do but refuse? And then I could go home and Mama couldn't do anything she thought, and the idea made her bold.
"Excuse me" she began again. "Can you tell me who I should ask about working here? I don't mind whether it's in the kitchens or the common room or helping with the bedrooms or even with the animals, I grew up on a farm you see, or I'm good at helping with children or I can sew or anything else..." she trailed off breathlessly and looked hopefully at the woman.

Orual

06-30-2003, 12:20 PM

Delia wiped her hands off on a dishrag, then turned to Talan. She nodded as he finished talking. "I like people, but I like them one at a time," she laughed. She hopped off to untie her apron and hung it up, then climbed onto the stool by him again. "Too many people at once make me nervous."

She fell silent, kicking her feet childishly. Maybe coming here was a bad idea. She really didn't like crowds. She looked around the room, feeling a little alone. Everyone else seemed happy and at home, but she felt uncomfortable and lost. Well, everyone but Talan.

She looked out of the corner of her eye at the man, who was letting her have her peace. She liked him, she realized. He reminded her of her elder brother, her only sibling, who was twelve years her senior, married with two children. He had always treated her like an adult, and not like one of his children. His wife was another story, but that was beside the point.

She turned to Talan suddenly. "What brings you to the Inn?" she asked.

Manardariel

06-30-2003, 12:51 PM

"I´ll have a large mead and a double rum!"

"Certainly, Sir."

"And can I visit the beautiful waitress for desert?"

"Certainly Sir. That is, if you wish to put up with this..." the young woman pulled out a shiny dagger, and turned around towards the kitchen, holding her shoulders high.

Fuming, Mia filled a glass of mead. Honesty, why did the misstress let scum like this into her well-respected place? Drunkerds and letches- Mia hated them, she despised them, but they also scared her. Scared her in a way she couldn´t quite explain. She grabbed the little dagger tight, knowing it was there when she needed it.

She grabbed the drinks, balanced them on a tablet and walked over two the table. Without a word, she put the beverages down, but she made sure he saw the dagger. He did, and Mia was sure he would be quiete for now.

"Have they been after you again?" Iswyn gave her sympathetic look, but smiled at the face Mia pulled.

"I manage. All for the good of the Inn, aye?"
Mia said, and she really meant it. All for the good of the White Horse.

Thenamir

06-30-2003, 03:07 PM

Laevin observed the interaction between Mia and her rude customer with a shake of his head. He had no "intentions" toward Mia himself, but he liked her (and almost everyone else at the White Horse) and disliked anyone trying to take advantage of mistress Bethberry's help. The White Horse was no ale-soaked tavern where lusty serving wenches toyed with the men and vice-versa. This was a respectable establishment, and he intended to make sure the newcomer knew it.

When the beefy-looking stranger glanced his way after receiving his rum, Laevin smiled at him and motioned for him to join Laevin at his table. Planting an elbow in the center of the table with a hand in the air arm-wrestling style, Laevin said, "You're a healthy-lookin' lad. Care to have a go?" The stranger looked smug, for he considered himself to be quite strong indeed and accepted the challenge by grasping Laevin's hand from across the table and waiting for the signal to start. Most of the crowd were watching the children on the stage, but a few regulars noticed the exchange and looked with interest toward the imminent contest. Not that the outcome was in doubt, but they knew what was likely to happen and anticipated only the aftermath.

Laevin counted slowly, "Three, two, one, GO!" With that, the man across the table strained with all his might to force Laevin's knuckles to the wood. He might as well have been pitted against an arm of solid and immovable granite. Laevin toyed with the man for a few seconds, even feigning a bit of lost ground before he put forth the full strength in his mighty arm, sending his opponent's hand crashing into the tabletop. The defeated man cried out and tried to wrench his bloodied knuckles away, but Laevin gripped the hand vise-like and mashed it into the tabletop even harder as he leaned into the man's face. In a low and steady voice, he looked the man in the eye and said, "This is not the place to be pawin' at the ladies, mister. I'll thank ye to leave your lecherous eyes at home and enjoy your meal in peace. And be sure ye leave Miss Mia a generous tip." The stranger nodded quick assent. With his free hand Laevin gave the stranger a light push, releasing his grip and tossing the man his napkin with which to bind his wound.

No sooner had the stranger resumed his seat than Mia returned with Laevin's beef and parsnips. She had not witnessed the exchange, but she did notice that the stranger was exceptionally kind to her for the rest of the evening...

[ June 30, 2003: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

Nonesuch

06-30-2003, 04:01 PM

The contest had been noted by a man on the stairs. After Laevin had been kind enough to pay for a room and his board, he had no intention of snubbing the man. He had hurriedly bathed, scrubbing hard at the dirt and knots in his hair. When he emerged from his bath, he found that his tattered clothes had disappeared and had been replaced with a fresh shirt, breeches and a pair of worn shoes made of soft leather, all used but serviceable. A note lying on top of his new wardrobe read "Courtesy of Bêthberry."

An odd name, he had mused, but he was thankful nonetheless. To his surprise, the clothing fit him very well, as did the shoes. He glanced up at a mirror and examined his unkempt beard. With a nod to himself, he resolved to take full advantage of his good fortune. So when he appeared on the steps which descended to the common room, his face was freshly shaved, though nicked here and there by his knife.

He made his way to Laevin's table and stood waiting for the large man to notice him. Laevin looked up from his plate and said, "Yes?" The man smiled and sat across from the blacksmith. "Thank you for your generosity. It is not often that a ... wanderer such as I receives such a gift."

Laevin's eyes narrowed for a moment as he examined the blond man sitting across from him. Then he took note of the crippled arm and nodded. "You do clean up well," said Laevin. "What is your name?"

After a short pause, the man answered. "You may call me Úmarth."

Laevin stared for a moment, then laughed. "No doubt, no doubt! But let us get you a mug and a plate before we speak more of this."

Daniel Telcontar

07-01-2003, 02:59 AM

Talan looked at Delia, a little surprised. Nobody before had bothered asking him about himself; well, except for the innkeeper, but that was probably just to make sure he wasn't a cut-throat.

"I-I dunno where I was born. Somewhere east, me reckons. But I lived in Dale for most of me life; a nice city, I daresay. Lost of friendly people-and the guards aren't mean to streetrats like myself."

He looked at Delia out of the corner of the eye, thinking about what she thought when she heard about his upbringing. But her face, with those diamond eyes did not change, their expression of interest remained the same. It gave him the courage to continue.

"When I was about 15 or 16-I dunno know my real age, ye see- there came some trouble. Some easterlings arrived to town, and asked questions. They gave me some money, to help them out. But then they got hanged, for being spies. And the crowds, they reckoned I was a spy to, you know. So before things got bad, I took me belongings, which didn't take long, and then ran off. I tried living in the wild, but I wasn't good at it. So I got here to this place, asked for some jobs and someone directed me to this here inn. And here I am."

After this long monologue, Talan felt silent. He could not remember when he last had spoken so much. Delia made him feel comfortable, and when she looked at him he did not feel like a street child like he did when he was in the Great Hall. After some silence, he cleared his throat and said:

"Er, so, what about you? How does a pretty girl like yeself end up here?"

Bêthberry

07-01-2003, 08:31 AM

With the Assistant Innkeeper being called home for a family matter, Bêthberry was finding herself busier than she had expected. Aylwen, you don't know how much you are missed! she whispered to herself and to the air, as if the message would hang there, circling the rafters round and round, ready for Aylwen to find when she returned.

Bêthberry then spied young Barthaew with his sac of new mugs she had ordered. "Barthew! A timely arrival indeed. Many thanks for making the mugs for me on such quick notice. If you'll deliver them to the kitchen, to Iswyn, I'm sure they will be put to immediate use." The Innkeeper then reached into her front pocket to find payment. "Here's the sum agreed upon, five pence each. Mind you don't spend it all here tonight, though, my lad," she spoke with a friendly grin, as she counted the pennies out into his palm. She watched around, ensuring that no ill-favoured sorts observed the transaction. She wouldn't want the boy to be relieved of his wages, for his family could use the money well.

As Barthaew disappeared into the kitchen, the Innkeeper watched a young girl with a country shyness about her timidly walk through the front door. Yet there was nothing timid about the voice which spoke up. It rang clear and sweet, perhaps hesitant, but honest about the request for employment.

"You'll be willing to work the laundry, and be a maid for the upstairs rooms, Theora? We'll have sheets and pillow cases, linens and napkins galore for cleaning on the morrow."

"Aye, I promise. As I said, there are too many of us on the farm, and I need to help bring in some wealth for the family."

"Show me your work tomorrow and then we'll settle on your salary. For now, help yourself to dinner, and see what aid you can offer Iswyn in the kitchen."

"You'll pay me honestly for all I do?" the young girl asked with solemnity, afraid she was being asked to work for nothing."

"Of course, of course, my lass. Your mother spoke the truth when she said we are a decent Inn."

Out of the corner of her eye, Bêthberry saw Mia's face cloud over as she took an order from a smooth-faced patron and something silver flashed briefly in front of her. The Innkeeper murmured a "hhmmpfht" to herself as she worked up a stern rebuke for the patron, but then she saw with much relief that Laevin had worked his own measure of reprimand. She could not ask for more from a good neighbour and a decent citizen of the city. She was proud to call him 'friend.'

Bêthberry then sought out Talan, who she found shirking his duty by hiding in the kitchen with Delia.

"Talan, there's a patron who's lip is a little too free with the help here. Please circulate in the Great Hall and watch that none of the staff are subjected to any rude slights. Let me know immediately if any problems arise. We don't want knife fights breaking out." He nodded nervously, hesitantly, and walked out to observe the party. Bêthberry wondered how long it would take for him to become comfortable with his job.

On her way out of the kitchen, she whispered to Mia. "Keep the dagger about you if you wish to feel safe, but don't show it in the Inn, for we don't need to encourage any disorderly braggarts. Bring problems to me or to Talan."

With a sigh of busy labour, Bêthberry then walked out to mingle in the Great Hall. She spied the once-bedraggled stranger, now cleaned and freshly dressed, sitting with Laevin. The clothes, she observed, suited him well, and air of tired despair had left his visage. She wondered what story he had to tell and what use he would make of his good fortune.

Not able to find Annawyn in the crowded hall, Bêthberry took herself to a chair at Laevin's table.

"May I join you briefly?" she asked the two men.

elven maiden Earwen

07-01-2003, 10:37 AM

Mellaith and Ravenna stayed close together as they wandered around. The inn was crowded and everyone was singing and dancing. The girls talked to friends of theirs. They stayed away from the adults because they were only 15 and still considered Childs.

“Excuse me, can I have some water” Ravenna asked to the bartender. He quickly grabbed a glass and filled it with the clear liquid.

“Thank you” she said before hurrying back to Mellaith. The girls sat down with their friends and began to eat. Ravenna studied everyone sitting down with them. There was Jesslyn a pretty girl with chestnut hair. She was only 14. Tessa sat next to her. Tessa had long golden hair. She was 16. Ravenna was surprised that she was friends with them. Next to Tessa sat Lothawyn. She was the same age as Mellaith and Ravenna but she was prettier. She had dark red hair and green eyes.

The girls laughed and talked while they ate. Once they had finished they decided to dance. They sang to the songs they knew and laughed at funny things.

“The banners are lovely” Tessa said in a clear voice. Mellaith and Ravenna smiled at her. Many people at the inn seemed to enjoy them too. Ravenna was happy at this thought. After a few more songs the girl spread out. Mellaith, Ravenna, and Jesslyn headed towards a little cluster of staff members and Tessa and Lothawyn started to talk to a cluster of girls. Tessa and Lothawyn had become friends since they were both bakers’ apprentices. Jesslyn on the other hand was an apprentice healer.

“Hello” Delia, Jesslyn said as she approached the apprentice healer.

[ July 01, 2003: Message edited by: elven maiden Earwen ]

Lyra Greenleaf

07-01-2003, 11:44 AM

Walking slowly, both because the room was full and because she wanted to take everything in Theora walked to the kitchen door. There was singing coming from more than one person, and not all tuneful. Men, women and children laughed and talked all around her. It got loud at home, but it was a very different sort of noise when you had three younger brothers. Theora's eyes went quite round. A loud grumble from her stomach surprised her. It seemed like no time at all since she left home in the morning, but dawdling through town had taken a while. Suddenly she registered the growing dusk as she had come into the inn.

Mama would be cross, she thought sadly. Mama will never know! The second thought cheered her so much that she grinned at a youth standing near. He blushed and turned away.
"Ooops" Theora whispered, giggling to herself quietly. Quickly she darted through the kitchen door.

It was like entering a different world. It was very hot, and the smell of all sorts of food made her stomach grumble again. But it was still loud, mostly from the common room next door, and no-one seemed to hear.

Gazing around Theora spotted a slightly grumpy looking woman at the fire. She looks a little scary, Theora thought. There was something strangely familiar about her too. She giggled again suddenly as she realised that she seemed a bit like Mama! The noise seemed to have caught the ear of a younger woman, who looked up from her work and smiled. Theora smiled back. The girl kept smiling, Theora kept smiling.

"Yes?" the girl asked.
Theora blushed. "S-sorry" she stuttered. "I was told to get some food and then help Iswyn. I'm going to be working here now"
Once again she found herself smiling hopefully across at someone. It seemed to be becoming quite a habit!

Sophia the Thunder Mistress

07-01-2003, 02:12 PM

"I'm going to have some supper and then help Iswyn." The girl grinned at these words, Iswyn eyed her critically, a smile plastered to her freckled face. Help Iswyn? She did okay. Not that help would be unwelcome. Iswyn bit her lip, glancing around the kitchen, she hoped they hadn't sent another girl because they thought she wasn't doing her work. Iswyn swallowed hard, wishing she'd spent less time on the apples and barley, and more on the dishes. Her grin still stuck lopsidedly to her face she approached the newcomer.

"Well, you're in luck, I'm Iswyn!" The girl's smile broadened a little, and Iswyn hurried to get her a plate. She filled it high, making sure to give the girl a generous helping of the new peas she'd picked earlier- sneaking a few into her mouth on the way. Sliding the plate across a counter to the new girl she asked, "what's your name?"

The other girl ate neatly, chewing her food fully before looking up at Iswyn. "Theora," she answered, "I'll mostly be working upstairs, I think." Iswyn relaxed noticeably at this statement. Breaking back into her usual chatter, she gestured wildly from side to side, indicating the sinks where the dishes were done, the stove where Froma was still working, the counters and cabinets where the various dishes were kept.

"Iswyn, girl, give her a rest!" Froma turned to her, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "She doesn't need to know where every teaspoon and toothpick belongs to work down here tonight." Froma shot the newcomer a kind look and went back to his bustling around the stove. Iswyn suspected he was just keeping busy, as most of the food seemed to be finished.

Iswyn shot Froma a slightly reproachful look before turning back to Theora. "Well, then, what we can do for tonight is wash out these mugs. Someone just brough them in, and they're pretty clean, but they're all dusty, see?" she rubbed her thumb across the rim of one of the mugs. A darker stripe showed clearly where she'd rubbed it. She made a disgusted face. "Can't drink out of that." Theora smiled and shook her head. Disappearing under a stack of dusty mugs, Iswyn reappeared near the sink, beckoning to Theora to come join her.

Thenamir

07-01-2003, 02:23 PM

Laevin broke out in a large grin at Bethberry. "Welcome to our table! If anyone deserves a break tonight, Miss B, it's got to be you. Have a seat! The place looks so grand, and your cooks have outdone themselves with the beef and parsnips tonight!" Suiting the action to the word, he forked a large section of his slab of meat into his mouth and chewed with all the gusto of a man who thinks his repast came straight from the kitchens of Valinor.

Washing down the beef with a slog of ale from his mug, Laevin said, "I was just about to ask this man Úmarth to tell me more about himself. It might be his one opportunity to get in a word, you know how I am once I get started with my talkin'..."

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

07-01-2003, 11:20 PM

Aleia rode up to the inn. Reining in her pony Skeet, she looked at the sign swaying gently in the wind. "The White Horse Inn", she read aloud. "Lovely name. Hopefully, it has lovely accomodations to boot!" Chuckling at her joke, Aleia dismounted and led Skeet to the stable, where she tethered him in a stall and, nodding to the stable-boy, headed to the inn.

Upon entering the inn, Aleia was overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and scents of the Horse. People were everywhere, talking, laughing, eating, and drinking. Ah, what I need is a good mug of ale! thought Aleia, and made her way over to the bar. People glanced at her, mildly surprised to see a hobbit in Rohan. She was used to people gawking; it happened a lot. It seemed that people could not grasp the concept of a travelling hobbit.

Hopping onto her stool (which received a few chuckles from the humans), Aleia ordered a pint of ale and a biscuit. Upon receiving her meal, she bit into the biscuit and sighed in weary contentment.

Nonesuch

07-02-2003, 08:52 AM

Úmarth averted his eyes upon hearing Laevin's request. Instead, he spoke to Bêthberry. "Thank you, my lady for your kind gift," he said. "I would like to repay your generosity somehow." At that moment, Mia set a plate of stew before him. With a brief nod to the server, he dug into the bowl voraciously and did not look up again for several minutes.

When his assault on the bowl slowed, Laevin cleared his throat. "I am pleased that you are enjoying the fare here, and indeed it appears that you had some need," the blacksmith said with a smile. "But come now. One cannot give a name such as Úmarth and not expect to be called upon to tell his tale."

Bêthberry nodded her agreement. "Your secrets are your own if you so choose," she said. "But to claim the name of Ill-Fate is not to keep your fortune a secret."

Úmarth nodded. "I am in your debt," he answered. "So, as a matter of courtesy alone I am bound."

He sighed and raised his head. "I was a Captain of the Eotheod in Eastfold. One day in the course of my duties I came to Meduseld. While there, Grima, the King's counselor, bade me to deliver a message to Saruman the White in Isengard. I took ten men with me and made for the Gap of Rohan. However, I never reached Isengard. My men and I were set upon by a large band of Orcs and all were slain, even the horses, except myself and I was sorely injured." He indicated his shrivelled arm.

"I walked as far as I could, back towards Meduseld and was found by other Riders and taken back to the Golden Hall where I was cared for. But in a matter of days, I was summoned before the King and Grima was there. He accused me of negligence and with scornful words placed the blame of the loss of my men upon me. When I answered that we were taken unawares and that the Orcs appeared to come from the Gap of Rohan, from the direction of Isengard, rather than the east side of the mountains, Grima grew angry. He cried that Saruman has ever been our ally and has kept the Gap of Rohan safe and closed to our enemies. He argued that if our Riders were not capable of protecting our borders to the east then we should withdraw somewhat. The King agreed both to withdrawing our men and that I was responsible for the loss of my comrades. I was stripped of rank and unhorsed and was shamed to the point where I did not wish to return to my family and have since wandered our land musing upon my ill-fate. Thus my name."

He said no more but his anger and shame was apparent...

Lyra Greenleaf

07-02-2003, 12:45 PM

"...I'm Iswyn"
Theora smiled broadly, relieved that Iswyn hadn't commented on Theora's daydreaming. It would be one thing to not be given a job, but quite another to be turned out after only a few moments!

Talking brightly Iswyn filled a plate high with lovely looking food and presented it to Theora. Then she proceeded to talk on and on, very fast, as Theora regarded her food. It seemed very different to what Theora got on the farm, but picking up a pie and biting into it she recognised the creamy taste of chicken. The food might be different but it was very good!

"Iswyn, girl, give her a rest!" said a man Theora had not noticed earlier. "She doesn't need to know where every teaspoon and toothpick belongs to work down here tonight."
With a start Theora realised she had not a clue what Iswyn had been telling her. She smiled at her sheepishly and resolved to pay far more attention in the future.

Soon Theora knew that she could eat no more, no matter how nice the food was, or how long since she had eaten.
Iswyn smiled again.
"Well, then, what we can do for tonight is wash out these mugs. Someone just brough them in, and they're pretty clean, but they're all dusty, see?"
Theora watched as Iswyn proved her point that yes, the mugs were indeed dusty.
"Can't drink out of that."
Theora shook her head to show that she had been paying attention, then watched as Iswyn went to the sink and beckoned to her. Taking her plate, Theora followed.]

"What shall I do with this?" she asked, motioning to her (admittedly few) leftovers.
"There" said Iswyn, pointing to a bucket.
"For the pigs?" asked Theora with a grin, scraping the food off her plate. Iswyn nodded. Theora went back over to the sink, placed her plate in and started scrubbing, determined to show her worth.

"I like pigs" she said to Iswyn conversationally. Finishing her plate she went to pick up a couple of dusty mugs.
"Very clean animals, really" she continued. "Cleaner than my brothers! But then I think most animals are..."

Sophia the Thunder Mistress

07-03-2003, 05:47 AM

Iswyn giggled at this last statement, nodded her head solemnly, then rethought and shook it instead. "I don't have any brothers." She said, conspiratorially, "but there are boys around here sometimes. Dirty creatures." Theora laughed and Iswyn rolled her eyes dramatically. Hopeless really, boys.

By the end of the stack of mugs Iswyn was more than satisfied with Theora's company. How could she help but be satisfied when she had a companion who was content to wash mugs and laugh while Iswyn told stories and giggled and sloshed water clumsily on the floor. After a particularly large wave leapt over the edge of the dishpan, a loud cry interrupted Iswyn's story.

"Iswyn! The Floor!" Froma's lips twitched at the corners as he pointed at the puddle that had formed around Theora's and her feet. Iswyn dragged a bare toe through the puddle (having abandoned her shoes hours before) and drew a little swirl of water on the floor. She snuck a glance at Theora, whose eyes were wide with terror, and her cheeks unnaturally pink. The towel Froma had slung over his shoulder was roughly shoved into Iswyn's hands. She winked at the other girl, before folding the towel neatly and setting it on a counter.

"Aww, Froma, we're gonna wash it later." she said, carefully trying to keep the grin off her face, and not entirely succeeding. Theora squirmed beside her and Iswyn nudged her with her elbow to look up. Froma's face was twitching in a way that was oddly akin to suppressed laughter.

"Well, girls, Mistress Bethberry said you were to have a break and a treat... but I'd better see that puddle cleaned up first." He noted the flash of excitement in Iswyn's eyes and neatly redeposited the towel in her hands. "If you want strawberries and cream before they're all gone, I'd get a move on."

Iswyn exchanged a delighted glance with Theora. "See, Froma yells, but he's not mean." she whispered, as she passed Theora the towel and went to fetch another. "He just likes to pretend. He can't fool me." The two girls giggled as they set to drying the floor, the promise of strawberries hurrying them along.

Bêthberry

07-03-2003, 08:32 AM

Bêthberry looked away, seeking the faces of the many patrons of The White Horse, and nodded helloes to those she knew, so that she could respectfully overlook the anger and shame on Úlmarth's face. While a hearty, good natured smile still formed on her lips, it was possible, at close quarters, to see apprehension obscure the usual merriment of her eyes.

The Innkeeper turned back to the table, and sipped from her tankard, filled as it always was on occasions such as this with fresh water. She spoke quietly, with measured words.

"Yours is the first story I have heard, Úlmarth, of an apparent confusion in the Golden Hall and of a counsellor who seems less concerned with the needs of our citizens than with the affairs of the powerful and mighty.
I trust the truth of your own misfortune, but I have heard no other stories of orcs afoot where they should not be."

At this point the Innkeeper stopped her story to watch the flames in the great fireplace weave their shadows. She turned back to the two men with a calm voice and took a second sip from her tankard.

"There may well be strange deeds afoot in the land. I know not what they portend but I will not have them turn my Inn into a site of misery and despair. Wherever I can I shall offer shelter and hope and kindness, as Laevin himself does, to those to whom fortune has shown malice rather than forebearance or goodness. We shall have mirth over madness and misdeeds."

[ July 04, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Daniel Telcontar

07-03-2003, 09:20 AM

Talan listened close to what Umarth had said. Although he had traveled through some parts of Rohan, he knew nothing of Isengard, the king or orcs. In fact, he had not even seen one in his whole life. They were not common up north, in Dale, and he had been lucky to avoid them on his journey west. Then Bethberry discovered him listening and gave him a stern look, and reluctantly he returned to his work.

He walked up to the bar, and looked around. The one Laevin had taken care of had left with his drink, but another seemed to have been drinking heavily. Suddenly, he dropped his head on the table and began snoring.

Talan sighed, and then without much effort lifted the small parton out of his chair, and carried him out in the barn and threw him down, rather ungently, into the hay.
"He's thru' partyin', that one."

He muttered to himself as he returned to the Great Hall. It did not seem like there was anything else to take care of, but he could see that Mia was apparently popular at the customers.

He walked up next to her, and looked around. Any customer who seemed to have the wrong kind of thoughts received a harsh look, and soon they were all using their attention on their ale.

"If them lot bring any more trouble, I'll be right here to sort 'em out. Just you say the word and they'll be out of here in no time." he told Mia, and then sat down not far from her, making sure that he was ready to aid her if the need arose.

[ July 03, 2003: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]

Lyra Greenleaf

07-04-2003, 04:11 AM

"Iswyn! The Floor!"

Theora jumped at the sound of a cross voice behind her. Talking to Iswyn she had barely noticed time passing, even as she washed and dried dusty mugs. Guiltily she looked down. There was no broken shards, which was a relief. But she could see what the cook meant, as there was a great pool of water on the floor, lapping around Theora and Iswyn's feet. She bit her lip, and could feel herself blushing with fear. If she had made this much mess at home, Mama would have punished her. Here, in the world, surely it would be worse? Carefully she kept her eyes on the floor and willed herself to not let tears form.

"Aww, Froma, we're gonna wash it later." Iswyn said, with a half smile. With her elbow she nudged Theora and gestured her to look at the cook. Looking at his face she saw that he was having even more difficulty than Iswyn in keeping his face serious. Relief flooded through her.

"Well, girls, Mistress Bethberry said you were to have a break and a treat... but I'd better see that puddle cleaned up first. If you want strawberries and cream before they're all gone, I'd get a move on."
Theora grinned widely, exchanging glances with Iswyn. Strawberries! she thought excitedly. They were a real treat this early, Theora knew how much her father charged. With a smile she realised that these might be from her farm!

Happily Theora took the towel Iswyn offered her, as she thought of the strawberries fields and her Papa.

"See, Froma yells, but he's not mean." Iswyn interrupted her thoughts.
"He just likes to pretend. He can't fool me."

Theora giggled quietly, both girls trying to keep him from hearing.
"He seems really nice" she whispered back, sopping up the water eagerly. "And isn't it lovely of Mistress Bethberry to give us strawberries? She must be really nice too."

They had soon finished the floor. In fact Theora was surprised that it had taken so little time. Eagerly she took the bowl of fruit from Froma.
"Thank you" she said with a smile, having decided he was definitely nicer than Mama.
"Would you two like to go in and join the party?" he asked, grinning back. Both girls nodded.
"Go on then" he said. "But not for too long!" he added gruffly as they walked over to the kitchen door.

"When did you come to work here then?" Theora asked Iswyn as they entered the common room.
"Well..." she heard Iswyn begin but the noise was incredible. Theora leant her head closer. She felt happier than she ever had, probably. As she watched a little boy run in front of her she knew that she missed her brothers and sister. And Papa of course. But now she had a friend, and everyone was nice. With a contented sigh she listened to Iswyn talking. Yes, she was glad to be here.

Bêthberry

07-06-2003, 08:33 AM

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It is now nearing sunset and dinner has been served to all. Food and dishes are being cleared away for the final entertainments of the evening. It was the practice, in days of yore, for storytellers and dream weavers to entertain such parties with tales. If any of you wish, feel free to have your character present a tale to the assembled guests. Bêthberry will be telling a ghost story, a very short ghost story, in a bit.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Horse was crowded with patrons, bodies squeezed into close proximity, bumping into each other with good natured mock apologies and grins, breaking down the formality of the usual distance people keep between each other. One could see people catching each other's eyes as they acknowledged old friends or looked to find new ones. Some patrons were finishing up their meals while others had settled down in small groups of animated talk.

The night was hot. The windows had been thrown wide open, but the breezes which wafted through them brought the cloying mugginess of summer heat to add to the warmth which the bodies in close contact generated. Most of the children were grinning, aware of the special treat of being allowed to stay up late on a party night, although a few of the young ones were looking drowsy and one or two were on the verge of becoming overtired and cranky.

The Innkeeper realized that the time had come for some of the entertainments. She rose from her desk, carrying a largish brass pot with a huge wooden ladle, which made a resounding gong when struck together. It was sufficiently different from her usual sedate, quiet bell that many of the staff as well as the patrons grinned in anticipation.

"Ah," Bêthberry said, grinning herself. "I might disappoint you. Others will have finer tales to tell. Instead I have a more pleasant task; I have a welcome to extend, to two people whose presence will make The Horse and all of Rohan a finer place to be."

Whistles and calls broke out from some of the patrons at this point, and the Innkeeper paused, searching the throng for particular faces.

"I cannot see them in this press of people, but possibly"--a wink here--"they can hear me. Aylwen Dreamsong has done a sterling job creating not only good posts and games but bringing together in the fun and fellowship of gaming many new faces to Rohan. Her work here in The White Horse is eagerly anticipated and I'm sure she will help make this the most exciting Inn in all of Edoras."

A large loud cheer went up, hoots and hollars enough to bring a bright blush to Aylwen's face. Then Bêthberry continued.

"And most welcome is the return of our Bard after an absence of so many years. Child, your lore, your travels, your gracious, generous patience, will I hope provide Rohan with an education which has been missing in the past. May our writing and our gaming be richer for your wisdom!"

If Bêthberry had more words of welcome to add, they were lost in the swell of applause and cheers and toasts which rang out. Like any good speaker who knows how to work a crowd, she recognized when it was time to withdraw. She signalled a special round of mead, or ale, or tea for all, and then went to find Annawen, with whom she had not yet had time to chat. Passing by the long table, she spied a most unlikely traveller through the plains of Rohan. It had been a long, long time since she had last had a chance to talk with a hobbit and she was curious to know what brought the young person here.

The minstrels struck up their instruments, beginning with a celebratory jig. In the meadhall and all around the White Horse, patrons and staff began keeping time to the rhythm of the instruments with their feet, their heads, their hands slapping their thighs. The rattling good sounds of jubilation rang out.

[ July 07, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Aylwen Dreamsong

07-07-2003, 08:53 PM

There were three ravens sat on a tree,
Down a down, hey down, hey down
They were a black as black might be,
With a down.
The one of them said to his mate.
"Where shall we our breakfast take?"
With a down, derry, derry, derry down, down.

Down in yonder green field,
Down a down, hey down, hey down
Their lies a knight slain under his shield,
With a down.
His hounds they lie down at his feet
So well they do their master keep.
With a down, derry, derry, derry down, down.

His hawks they fly so eagerly
Down a down, hey down, hey down
No other fowl dare him come nigh,
With a down.
Down there comes a fallow doe
As heavy with young as she might go.
With a down, derry, derry, derry down, down.

She lifted up his bloody head,
Down a down, hey down, hey down
And kissed his wounds that were so red,
With a down.
She got him up upon her back
And carried him to earthen lake.
With a down, derry, derry, derry down, down.

She buried him before the prime,
Down a down, hey down, hey down
She was dead herself ere even-song time,
With a down.
Eru send every gentleman
Such hawks, such hounds, and such leman,
With a down, derry, derry, derry down, down.

The White Horse was alive with the beat as the minstrels finished their song. The patrons cheered approval and lifted their sloshing mugs in praise to the musicians. Aylwen clapped along with the rest of them, after helping one half-asleep boy to find his mother.

Aylwen had so far enjoyed the night past little snags and troubles. Aylwen thought Bêthberry had seemed all too kind with her welcoming speech, but deep down Aylwen appreciated the Innkeeper's kind words. The new assistant's slight absence had been for family matters, including much visiting and reminiscing involving a certain inn called the White Horse.

"Good to see you getting some meat on your bones!" Aylwen called to Tar, who was helping himself to some of Froma's salmon stuffed potato skins.

"Good to see I did a better job than you would on the floor!" retorted Tar cheerfully. Aylwen chuckled and sat down next to the old friend for a moment.

"It is a good time for some story telling," commented Aylwen, sneakily taking one of Tar's parsnip patties. "How about telling me the tale of your sickliness?"

Before Aylwen could continue further on the conversation, something tugged at Aylwen's skirts. Looking down, Aylwen could see a little girl who looked about five or six pointing angrily at another girl nearby.

"She took my cherry cobbler!" the first girl complained, whining as if she was too tired to pursue the matter further without help.

"I did not!" cried the other girl in defense, and Aylwen lifted a brow and shot a look at both girls that silenced them.

"I didn't see what happened. However, I don't like tattle-tales or thiefs much. Why don't you two just call it even, and see if one of the kitchen help will get you both new desserts?" Aylwen suggested, and the girls slowly nodded and stalked off towards the kitchen. Aylwen stood from her spot and rustled Tar's hair as she left the table, walking over to the children's table.

"Would you all like to hear a story?" Aylwen asked, eyeing each child at the table in turn. Some of them looked very tired, others looked alert and awake as if trying to hid their exhaust. Aylwen recieved a reply of weary nods and a chorused "Yes."

"Good. A long time ago, there was a young girl who desperately wanted to be a fiddle player. However, every time she tried to play her violin she would put her fingers on the wrong string or spot, making for a horrible sound. The old master minstrel took pity on her and gave her a magic bowstring which cured her of her affinity to play the wrong notes.

"But on the night of the big performance the minstrel company was going to play in front of the king, she left her magic bowstring at home! Without it she had to borrow a practice bowstring and she would play all the wrong notes again. That, children, is when the master minstrel told her that they weren't magic at all! The fiddle player got her confidence back and played wonderfully ever after."

The children clapped and some sighed, but Aylwen could not tell if it was from sleepiness or like of the story.

[ July 09, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

Child of the 7th Age

07-08-2003, 11:46 AM

Child was secretly grateful for the cordial greetings and words of support voiced by Mistress Bethberry. So long away from the fields and glades of Rohan, yet still there were some who remembered him when he'd roamed the alleyways and streets of Edoras first as a child and later as a young man come of age.

Older folk had finished up their desserts and were now lounging quietly on whatever benches and chairs they'd managed to grab, while they listened to music and waited for Bethberry to begin her story. The children were another matter. Tired and crotchety after too much excitement, several of them were sprawled out sleeping or had begun squabbling with each other.

Seated by herself at a corner table, quietly sampling a platter of desserts, Aleia was the only hobbit in the room and a definite oddity to many who lived in Rohan. One of the older lads named Alaric whom Child didn't know sidled up to ask some questions. Whether it was the late hour or just meanness of spirit, the boy's queries soon degenerated into teasing, something Child knew from first-hand experience and which he truly hated.

Resisting his initial impulse to go over and physically throttle the lad, Child casually roamed over to the table and introduced himself to Aleia, gently nudging Alaric to the side. The hobbit and man sat down for a moment to share an ale, as Child inquired about things in the Shire and mentioned how much he'd enjoyed his stay there. Much to the Bard's delight, he discovered that Aleia was related to a family whom he'd met on his earlier travels.

Child suggested a few sights for Aleia to consider visiting during her brief time in Edoras and then waved goodbye, making sure that the hobbit had managed to secure a room for the night. Turning around to Alaric who still stood red faced a few feet away, he guided the lad over to the side of the room and quietly admonished him, "No more teasing! Yes, I know she looks different than we do. But you've no idea how much there is beyond the boundaries of Rohan. You'll miss half the fun of living if you're afraid to consider anyone or anything that's different."

The lad eyed him warily, then asked, "How much have you seen? Of the lands beyond Rohan?"

"That's a story too long for the telling. Come along to the Inn some afternoon and I'll share a tale or two with you. Just promise me you'll behave now and give that lass some respect."

Alaric mutely nodded and ran off in the direction of his friends.

[ July 08, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

07-08-2003, 02:42 PM

Aleia sighed as the boy who had been asking her questions, and then poking fun at her feet, height, and ears was pushed to the side by an adult male. Finally! she thought. The man came and sat down beside her, introducing himself as Child. Glancing behind her, Aleia spotted the lad standing there red-faced. She gave him a death-look and moved her cloak over to show the dagger on her hip. The boy's eyes widened and his face had a frightened-rabbit look. Aleia looked back toward Child and winked. He chuckled and they began to talk.

When Aleia told Child of her last name, he seemed delighted, and she found out it was because she belonged to a family he met while travelling. They exchanged bits of news while they shared an ale, and then Child excused himself to leave. Aleia heard him reprimanding Alaric behind her, and she laughed to herself.

The minstrels put on an excellent show! Aleia thought to herself. Although Child's company had been shortlived, Aleia was glad for it, for it was dreary to sit by yourself. She raised her mug and cheered along with the crowd for the minstrels.

[ July 08, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

Child of the 7th Age

07-09-2003, 09:30 AM

Unable to find an empty seat in the crowded dining room, Child opted to go outside on the Inn's front porch. A bit of space and privacy was just what he needed to mull over everything that had happened that day. For the last ten years, he'd spent many a night under the open skies. Staying cooped up inside, even in a friendly place like the White Horse, was not the kind of thing he enjoyed.

In any case, it was a lovely night. The air was cool and crisp; the stars sparkled like glittering jewels. Directly above him was the Valacirca, the constellation of seven stars said to be placed there by Varda long ages ago as a weapon against Morgoth. And he had no trouble hearing the music that wafted through the open window.

Child awkwardly maneuvered his body onto the topmost step and leaned back against the stairwell railing as he listened to the lively strains of the fiddle and drum. It was a rare treat to sit by himself and let others do the singing and storytelling. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes later that Child saw a number of children come bursting out of the Inn's front door and run outside to play a game of tag.

They sprinted back and forth in the front courtyard, chasing each other through the tangled bushes and tall grass, then finally dropped down on the steps beside him, panting and holding their sides.

"I see you're managing to stay out of trouble," Child looked over in Alaric's direction.

The boy vigorously shook his head. "Well, I'm trying but it's not easy. It's boring inside. One of the guests was going on and on about some ancient kings. I was hoping he'd tell us about a dragon or some Orcs, but it's just a long list of names I don't know. I don't understand a word of it."

Child nodded and sighed, "Those names you don't recognize are probably the valiant kings of Rohan." He thought quietly to himself: don't they teach children anything these days beyond simply the skills to earn a living?

"How about if I tell you a tale? Something you will understand?"

Alaric agreed, "As long as it isn't boring and has some scary parts."

Child thought a minute and added, "Alright then. This is a tale about something that actually happened to me when I was travelling in the far north of the Misty Mountains. It was definitely not a very agreeable place at least when I was there. Filled with trolls and Orcs and other miserable things." As he began speaking, several of the children came over and sat down, folding their legs underneath and leaning forward to hear Child's words:

High up on the lonely mountains,
Where the wild men watched and waited;
Trolls in the forest, and Orcs in the bush,
And I on my path belated.

The rain and the night together
Came down, and the wind came after,
Bending the props of the pine-tree roof,
And snapping many a bough.

I crept along in the darkness
Stunned and bruised and blinded;
Crept to a fir with thick-set boughs,
And a sheltering rock behind it.

There, from the blowing and raining,
Crouching, I sought to hide me.
Something rustled; two green eyes shone
And a warg lay down beside me!

His wet fur pressed against me;
Each of us warmed the other;
Each of us felt, in the stormy dark,
That beast and men were brother.

And when the falling forest
No longer crashed in warning,
Each of us went from our hiding place
Forth in the wild, wet morning.*

Alaric stared over at Child, his eyes wide and questioning, "I don't believe you. That couldn't have happened. My father says all wargs are savage creatures."

Child looked out to the distant plain with a sad expression on his face, "Perhaps they are, and perhaps they aren't. Believe what you will. But that actually happened to me, and things even stranger than that. Perhaps, Alaric, there are more things in Arda than you have ever dreamed of."

Even after the others left, the lad sat over to one side of the porch, saying nothing but thinking carefully on what Child's words might mean.

* My apologies to Bayard Taylor....

[ July 09, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]

The Ruling Ring

07-09-2003, 11:10 AM

Barthaew sat back in a chair, looking at Child as he spoke his words, weaving a beautiful tale. The boy he was mainly directing his words to sat spellbound, murmuring to him finally when the man was finished then sitting back to think it over.

Barthaew looked around at the others. He might as well contribute, he thought. He used to love to craft tales.

"I'll tell next," Barthaew said softly, sitting up straighter in his chair as the others turned to him.

"Once in the longest days before lore,
A man washed up on a silver shore.

"Feeling the wind in his hair and the sand on his face,
He awoke in this mysterious place.

"He wandered on, into the heart of the land.
And there saw things he could not understand.

"There were trees, wide trunks, thick branches, wide leaves...and voices floating in the eaves.

"Deep and slow, old and pure, the man heard them, and he strained to hear more.

"They sang in a tongue not understood by men. They sang their songs, and they sang them again.

"The man tried to see them, standing on a mound, but he couldn't see that they were all around.

"The trees sang the songs, for the trees were alive...on the sun and the Wash did they thrive.

"The man fell asleep listening to their speech. When he awoke, he was on another beach.

"He was home again now though he didn't know how. The last of his ship had been the sinking prow.

"But he questioned not fortune, if fortune it was called. For when he told his tale, he was denounced by all.

"They thought he'd gone mad, was too long on the sea. But he knew the truth, what he'd heard in the trees.

"And even when old, a man frail, gray, and bent, he was glad that he knew he'd heard real, true Ents.

"Though he didn't know that name, which was shortened from so long, he was blessed with having heard the blessed Ent song."*

Barthaew bowed his head as he sat back again, to scattered applause to the poem. He'd always loved the notion of Ents, though he'd never seen a real one.

Soon, he heard song a few paces away, and picking up his mug moved to hear it better.

*original poem

[ July 15, 2003: Message edited by: The Ruling Ring ]

*Varda*

07-09-2003, 02:08 PM

Iona wiped a blonde strand of hair out of her face as she put two pints of beer down in front of two men in the hall, before rushing back into the kitchens.

“Iona! Get those dishes washed!” Froma called to her as she ran back in.

“But there’s still so many people to serve out there!” she protested.

“How can we serve them if there’s no dishes?” Froma responded. “Mia’s still serving, and we could really do with you in here. Now, get cleaning!”

Iona stalked over to the sink, where she immersed her hands in the soapy water. Was the Inn always this busy? She had barely been here a day, after all, and she was already run off her feet. She didn’t see Iswyn anywhere about either, and she was supposed to be the main scullery maid, after all. Wiping and rinsing the glasses methodically, she stared out the window and watched the people go by, some merry, some sad. Behind her she just heard banging as Froma continued cooking. She had mixed feelings about him – he seemed mean, and shouted, but everyone else assured her that he was a nice man really. Only time would tell, she supposed.

Drying off the dishes, Iona let out a yawn, and rubbed her eyes. Only an hour left, and her first shift would be over. Despite the hard work, this Inn seemed a lot more reputable than the other places she had worked in the past six years. Her parents would be pleased to hear she had found a new position, and somewhere to live, as the last they had heard she had lost her job and was out on the street. All due to those broken dishes…Iona vowed to herself that she would not be so easily distracted by minor things in this job.

The dishes finished, Iona picked up a large tray, which nearly seemed to knock her small figure over as she left the kitchens. Placing it down in front of the customers, she smiled, dimples showing as she observed the good cheer of the White Horse Inn.

Daniel Telcontar

07-09-2003, 02:48 PM

Talan stood in a corner of the Great Hall. Things had settled down abit; most of the adults in their fancy clothes had settled down at some tables. The children were busy listening to the tales being told, though it was clear that some found the current one boring.

He caught Mia's eyes and smiled to her, and she smiled back. It made him remember the guy he had thrown into the hay, and he decided to check up on him.

He walked outside in the dark, and into the stables. The guy was gone, had probably gone home, if he could see straight enough.

Talan walked outside, and took a few deep breaths. He had always been most comfortable outside, and he could still feel uncormfortable when he was inside, especially with a lot of others.

Just then, his eyes caught a glimpse of something near the empty wagons.
"Som'body there?" When there came no response, he walked closer, investigating the carts and wagons. When he didn't find anything, he shrugged his shoulders and went inside again.

The X Phial

07-09-2003, 05:51 PM

The last light of the sky was leaking away as Aldhelm's cart pulled into the forecourt of the White Horse. His apprentice, Deol, jumped down from the bench and waved to what looked like a new stable hand. Together they went to the back of the cart and began unloading bags of new-ground flour. Aldhelm smiled at the boy's eagerness. It was clear he wanted to get work out of the way and start enjoying the inn. At 16 he was old enough to deal with the delivery aspect of the job himself, and Aldhelm felt no qualms at letting him. After all, the miller had paid his dues with his own father at 16.

The fair-haired man made his way to the door and inside. It was clear the party was winding down and it was time for the telling of tales. Aldhelm was not overly tall, though he was well built after years of hard work at the mill, and when the eyes of the crowd turned to look at the interruption he wished he was smaller still. The music did not cease, however, and he was quickly ignored by all but the people he knew in the crowd. He saw Laevin, the blacksmith, wave to him through the assembly, and sat down at the man's table with a smile.

"Ah, my friend, I see you have decided to join the revelries tonight," he said, grinning broadly. "I am glad to see you, for my waterwheel is in need of a new, thicker, shaft. I will be adding a new set of millstones soon."

"Aye," the blacksmith nodded back at him. "Bring me the measurements and I'll get to work on it next week."

Aldhelm nodded to the other man at the table, well-dressed but looking rather dour. He got no response but a nod in return and decided to wait a bit before asking after him. Perhaps after an ale.

As if anticipating his thought, Mia was at his elbow. He ordered an ale for himself and a punch for Deol, and enquired after a bit of supper as well, slipping a silver piece to Mia. She winked back at him.

"I'm sure we can find you something, miller," she commented, then hastily added, "And something for the boy, of course."

Aldhelm watched her wind her way back to the kitchen and stifled a yawn. The inn was warm and dark, and he was tired after his ride into the city.

"Took your time getting here, didntcha," Laevin commented drily.

"Ah, Laevin, you know how it is. I normally don't deliver until tomorrow, and I had a time convincing the wife there was enough flour made to make the trip worth our while. She's a bit jealous, you see, since she can't be coming into town until the babe is born. She knows I have to go, though, and doesn't really begrudge me the chance to see the inn at party time. Her conditions, of course, are that I get a day of milling in first, and that I bring back one fine tale, one fine dessert, and one fine greeting from the Innkeeper."

"You let that woman order you around a good deal."

Aldhelm laughed, "And so shall you, when you are married, my friend."

The ale arrived, and a promise of a cold supper, and Aldhelm lost himself for a moment in the tale, barely noticing when Deol took a seat next to the stranger and the food arrived. He was recalled to himself when he heard the stranger mutter to Deol something about him being lucky to have a job at the mill.

"Why, you can have one, too," said Aldhelm, "if you don't mind a hard day's work. I was hoping to find a ready man soon. I am adding new millstones and will need extra help. Edoras keeps growing, and the mill grows with it. You're a bit old for an apprentice, mind, but I don't doubt there will be work enough for a willing man. We'll do the improvements over the next few months and we'll need aid to have it ready by the time the fall harvest comes around."

The stranger seemed taken aback, and Aldhelm gave him some time to ponder it.

"Now," he wondered aloud to Laevin, "where is that innkeeper? I have a gift of honey from my wife's hive for her. The daughter collected it this afternoon. I hope I can catch her before I leave for home."

[ July 09, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]

Thenamir

07-09-2003, 06:39 PM

"You just missed our dear Miss Bethberry," Laevin replied, "she was at our table just a moment before you walked in. Which reminds me, she'd asked me to join in the tale telling, and it seems like an opportune moment."

The crowd had just finished applauding a fine short tale told by another of the many visitors to the inn that night, but as yet no one had stepped up to continue the festivity. Laevin saw his chance and took it. He picked up a stringed instrument from one of the band members and smiled to the rest, "You all know Dwarf and Orc don't you?" They nodded their assent, and Laevin announced to the crowd, "We've not yet had a good sing-along, so let's hear some good clappin' and stompin'! Dwarf and Orc everyone!!" And with that there went up a cheer as Laevin pounded the rhythm into the floor and the band followed his lead.

Orc was crouched on the cavern floor
And kept an eye on the oaken door
For many a night he'd watched it close
To see who might appear.
Oh dear! See him leer?
He's clutching a mighty spear!

Orc was guarding a mighty stash
And any who'd come he'd have to slash
For stacked on high in the cavern behind
Were kegs of goblin beer
Oh dear! To his rear
The Goblin King kept all his beer!

Dwarf was thirsty as he crawled
To the oaken door on the cliff face wall
His nose had caught the scent of ale
Oh what a sweet sensation.
Elation! Fixation!
He's found the Goblin's libation.

Chorus:
Dwarf and Orc
A battle not worth telling
Spear or cork
With which should ye be assailing
Just pop a dwarf on the head with a cork
And see if his axe don't sing!
Just take that axe upon yer skull
And see if yer head don't ring!

With his axe he smote the place
But no surprise on the Goblin's face
Whilst guarding he'd just helped himself
And drank all the Goblin King's brew
Oh boo! What to do?
He's got himself into a stew!

The door came crashing in on Orc
Who'd traded his spear for a beer to uncork
His drunken smile was soon replaced
As Dwarven axe did cleave that face
What a case - of disgrace
The dwarf was king of the place

So in the dark he felt around
But nothing intact was to be found
The bottles smashed, the kegs all dry
The orc had drunk the lot
Found it not! Such a sot!
And deserving of what he had got!

Chorus:
Dwarf and Orc
A battle not worth telling
Spear or cork
With which should ye be assailing
Just pop a dwarf on the head with a cork
And see if his axe don't sing!
Just take that axe upon yer skull
And see if yer head don't ring!

(Click here to download and hear the song!!) (http://www.glasshammer.com/audio/Glass_Hammer_-_Dwarf_and_Orc.mp3)

The crowd livened up considerably during the song, and by the end even the children were rooting for the dwarf. Long and loud was the applause as Laevin finished the tune with a flourish and handed the lute back to the surprised owner. He only took a brief bow before heading back to his table. Hands from the crowd slapped him on the back as he passed, and he smiled. It was nice to be able to play once in awhile.

"Well, now I've satisfied the innkeeper, I hope. I could use another jog of ale after that. Singin's hard on the throat," he said, winking at his two table-mates.

[ July 09, 2003: Message edited by: Thenamir ]

Bêthberry

07-09-2003, 09:58 PM

There had been tales to please everyone. Tales for reflection, tales for meditation, tales to curdle the blood and chill the bones, tales to awe the children and tales to satisfy even the most jaded of merry-makers.

Most of the patrons had wound their way home, back through the winding alleys and streets of Edoras, upstairs to the guests' rooms of The Horse, or to the long hallway at the back where the staff found their rooms. A few of the guests yet lingered, Annawen, Laevin, Aldhelm, although many of the staff had finished their work for the night. Talan had completed his check of the walls around the Inn and of stable; he had reported to Bêthberry that nought was afoot, yet for some strange shadows.

Bethberry thanked Aldhelm for the gift of the honey and asked after the health of his wife. The gift was treasured, for in times passed Bethberry had collected honey with his wife, a reminder that worked shared produced bounties of goods and of memory when hands worked together.

"Enough of this," yelled Laevin good naturedly to the Innkeeper. "You are keeping us up into the darkness of the still midnight. Where's your story?"

The Innkeeper grinned.

"I've been saving it, for a time when my guests are torn betwixt wanting more and wanting to be on their way. It's a riddle to confound their brains as they seek their good night."

Laevin nodded. Annawen chuckled to herself, knowing her friend and realizing that such a story might keep many a mind turning itself over in thought the next day. Aylwen winked at Bethberry as she completed the final night's tallies of dinners and ale, of dishes and of rooms. Bethberry watched the amber light of the setting sun turn to ebony glow and the ashen clouds cover the moon. She guessed it was time.

"My tale," she warned, "a word from the Old Tongue, talu or 'speech', is a tale of the last times of Mar-nu-Falmar. Not for nothing does Bêthberry tell a tale from the Akallabêth."

The few remaining guests shuffled on their chairs and in their seats. They weren't prepared for a long story. The Innkeeper complied with their wishes. She stood before them, hands at first held to her mouth, but then gently dropped to her sides.

"A woman was sitting in her house after the sun went down and there was great darkness in all the land and a great silence. She knows that she is alone in all of Avallónë for the Land of Aman was taken away; every other thing is dead."

"Suddenly, she hears a knock upon her door."

The Innkeeper bowed; her lips sealed. Silence reigned throughout the emptying hall. She spoke not a word to her guests, but ushered them out the large main doors, some with a nod, others with a smile, still others with a brief pat upon the shoulder. She looked out the door herself, at the dark night and the silent corners and walls around The White Horse. Nothing stirred but moonshadows. She turned the large skeleton key in the iron lock and turned, wearily, to her own room nearby. Tomorrow would bring new activities to the White Horse.

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

07-09-2003, 11:15 PM

Aleia sat eagerly, waiting for Bethberry to continue her story. But to her surprise, the Innkeeper bowed her head and began ushering her guests out. Aleia felt like a little hobbit-child who had been promised a toy but then had it taken away as she plodded wearily to her room.

Upon entering, she was delighted to see how cozy it was. It reminded her a lot of her room in her home back in the Shire. Aleia sighed as she remembered her home, with her father, brother, and sister. Her heart ached with a sudden pang of sorrow as she remembered her mother, who had passed away two years ago. Her poor father had taken it hard.

He had gotten worse when Aleia told him she wanted to be a traveller. He became sullen and tight-lipped, asking why she would ever want to do this. He thought she was deserting their family. She told him that she was tired of the traditional life, that she wanted to be true to her Tookish nature and go to see far-off places. He thought it was outlandish, even for Aleia Took to do.

Nonetheless, he had eventually given her leave and she had gone. Of course, she had no experience of travelling at all and she had not asked anyone for advice, so she got into many scrapes in the beginning. She hadn't thought of arming herself, which was foolish, but after a few incidents she got a hunting bow and some arrows. They had been used generously everywhere she had gone. Aleia shivered as she thought of the countless times she had hidden, quavering like a little mouse, in a tree while some enemy hunted below. Sometimes the enemy found her in the tree and attacked. Aleia winced as she rubbed her leg, where the memory of a sharp spear remained. A scar where a spear had stabbed her as she sat in a tree bloomed on her left ankle. Her leg had been hanging down and easy to reach. How foolish of her. Of course, after that she had become more wise about her travelling, but she had still gained a few more scars.

Oh, how hard her travels had been! She had nearly died of hunger and thirst several times, and had only been saved by the kindness of families in cottages. They took her in out of pity, fed her, and if they could gave her a bit of money. If only Father could see me now, she thought. He never believed that I would become a sort of beggar. She also gained money by trading or selling furs from animals she had shot in markets. Her thoughts travelled back to when she had been in the market in Bree and someone had tried to steal her coin pouch. He had been caught and persecuted, but that had been but a taste of the real world.

Her journey over the mountains had been cold, lonely, and hard. She had taken the easiest route she could, but she had just barely survived. There had been enemies, both alive and inanimate. Aleia had been running out of food when she finally got out of the mountains and back into the Sun. She was weak and so was Skeet, her pony, but she managed to shoot a rabbit and cook it while Skeet greedily munched the sparse grass.

Ah, Rohan! she thought. How different it was from the Shire! Everyone was so tall. The countryside was so open and the trees were so sparse. But most of the people were the same; kind, jovial, ready to laugh. The Inns were excellent, too. But after being in such different countries, Aleia now looked upon the Shire and the hobbits inhabiting it as a haven, the peoples naive to the goings-on. Everywhere else there was danger. The Shire was just about the safest place you could get.

Thinking about the Shire made Aleia homesick and weary, so she crawled into her bed. It was soft and warm, and it made Aleia realize how tired she really was. In a few moments she was closing her eyes, and in a few more she was snoring.

[ July 11, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

Idgian

07-09-2003, 11:57 PM

Hidden in darkness, Madi waited until all sound had quietened, and the air was still. The last of the night’s drinkers had long since departed the inn across the way, and he felt isolation encompass him with utter certainty. Total solitude was something Madi was very good at recognising.

He crouched and scooped a small mound of dirt into his hand. Lifting it to his face, hidden in the depths of his habit’s hood, he dipped the tip of his long tongue into the powdery hill and at once smacked his lips to savour the taste. Madi then brushed the remaining dirt from his hands, and sniffed the air deeply. It certainly smelt like a good place. And it definitely tasted like one. Surely his daylong deliberations were concluded. This simply had to be a good place.

As the clouds obscured the moon’s light, he left his safe haven and started toward the inn. With keen eyes and a cautious step, he moved as silently as mist, ever alert to the risk of detection. It was apparent to Madi that folk were not generally fond of being disturbed in the dead of night. But he had little choice. If the people of this ‘good’ place saw him in the light of day . . . Well, Madi wasn’t prepared to travel that particular road again. Better to keep his presence hidden.

A crooked smile parted his lips.

As the inn drew closer anticipation span Madi’s senses, and his dogged gait grew in fervour. He moved across the sun-baked road, his dragging footsteps rustling in the still air, the need for stealth all but forgotten. He could almost taste the shape of things to come. With the patience of a mountain, Madi had secretly watched the inn all day. Although the comings and goings had been fascinating, it was the landlady who really caught his attention. She had what he needed. She was . . . Madi racked his brains for the right word, but he couldn’t find it.

All too soon he was before the inn’s bolted door. He looked up at the gently swinging sign: The White Horse Inn. Madi briefly debated finding another entrance, somewhere more secluded. He decided against it. There was only one sure way to conclude this situation: head on. Besides, he really didn’t enjoy all this sneaking about. He had to get to the landlady before anyone else saw him, and raised the alarm. She would be the one to open the door to this inn. And she would bring with her the answers to everything.

Taking a deep, ragged breath, Madi raised a fist and banged upon the door: once . . . twice . . . three times. It seemed that every knock was as loud as a temple bell, and carried with it a resonating undercurrent of foreboding. He hopped from foot-to-foot, wishing he’d found a latrine before leaving his hiding place, or at least the side of a tree.

The mad hopping stopped abruptly. There was a light approaching the door from within, Madi could taste it. A moment later the grating sound of drawn bolts echoed dully through the wood. Madi’s breath caught in his throat. He crouched low as the door swung open and a figure lofting an oil lantern peered out into the night. Madi swept back his hood and felt his heart quicken.

It was she!

* * *

Bleary-eyed and nastily-haired Bethberry peered into the gloom, found no one there, and wondered if she had perhaps dreamt the sounds of knocking. She was about to return to her bed, when there came a tugging at the hem of her nightgown. She lowered the lantern and there, cowering on the doorstep was a small, stick-thin figure. He was dressed in a dark brown burlap habit, and dirty woollen leggings, which were much too long for his short legs. His face was unique. The bottom half of his jaw was twice the size of the top, and jutted forward. Two tusk-like teeth protruded from the bottom jaw, sitting either side of a wide nose. One tooth was broken and half the length of the other.

There was a glint of destitution in the strange little man’s huge, round eyes. Bethberry gazed into them for a long moment, and discovered she was no longer annoyed at having her sleep disturbed.

“You’re a queer one,” she said. “Are you lost?” The visitor shrugged. He was shivering, practically quaking. “There’s no need to be afraid,” Bethberry added. “Not on my doorstep.”

At the sound of the landlady’s soothing reassurance, Madi stood to full height, and relaxed a little. He reached almost to Bethberry’s waist, and she had to crouch to be at eye level with him.

“There must be a very good reason for banging on my door at this time of night,” Bethberry said.

Madi smiled with something akin to a pained grimace and jabbed himself in the chest. “Madi is ugly,” he stated, and then gestured to Bethberry. “You are . . .” Again he searched for the word that would describe how he saw the landlady. This time, the elusive phrase came to him. “You are nice!” he said with an air of certainty.

Bethberry blanched, unsure how to react. The little man’s speech was strange - not broken, just simple and direct. Never in her time at the White Horse had she laid eyes on one such as he, and fancied many different breed of creature ran through his bloodline. “What is it you want, Madi?” she asked gently.

Madi drew himself up. “I will work,” he announced. “You will be nice.”

Bethberry frowned. “You want a job?” she asked, still confused.

Madi rolled the word over in his mind, and imagined that it looked good and was therefore something he wanted. He nodded vigorously. “I work for you . . . only. Madi wants nice.”

Standing upright, Bethberry puffed her cheeks and exhaled heavily. She searched the gloom for signs of anyone else nearby. Everything was deserted and still, as it should be this time of night. She looked down at the pathetic and desperate creature staring up at her.

“Well, I tell you what I’ll do now, Madi . . .” Bethberry paused. Oh my, she thought. What do I do now?

Bêthberry

07-10-2003, 04:02 AM

Bêthberry looked again into the forlorn eyes of the little man and saw, well, she wasn't sure what. Was it a touch of mischief or something darker? She thought back to fey memories and the gindylows her mother had taught her of and could not recall having left out any saucers of milk recently. Yet as soon as she had these thoughts, she chided herself for them. There was something forthright about the creature's address. Perhaps it was only the time of night which made him appear suspicious. Yet these days one could never be too cautious.

She looked around again at the deserted street and up at the moon, now hidden by a nimbus cloud. From out of nowhere, Wyrd appeared, to alight atop the oaken door. She spoke, perhaps more suspiciously than he expected.

"Well now, have you brought no boggarts with you, nor the spriggans?"

Earnest but indignant eyes met hers and the man rolled these names around in his head, searching for a right way to correct her error.

"Madi belongs here. In this world. Not those others."

The Innkeeper wondered if she should wait to hear more. But then the cloud passed over the moon and a quicksilver glow shone over the sign of The White Horse Inn. The moment decided her.

"Come in, then, and let us talk while we wait for old Froma to brew us coffee, if you will have it. Perhaps you would prefer something else? Are you hungry?"

Bêthberry drew her large shawl tightly around her, let the little man pass into the meadhall, and locked and bolted the doors to the White Horse once again. What an odd air this little fellow has, she thought to herself. And what am I letting us in for? Yet he sighed a gentle, contented sigh as he walked forward and Bêthberry found herself warming to this usual guest.

[ July 10, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Aylwen Dreamsong

07-10-2003, 03:05 PM

Aylwen woke up the next morning with the first light, watching the rays of sun dance on and through her windowsill before getting ready for the day. Tired from staying up so late the night before, Aylwen yawned as she brushed her black hair and donned her skirts and tunic. She left her panpipes on her dresser before going to Delia's small but cozy room.

"Delia? Time to wake up," yawned Aylwen through the closed door, leaning her forehead on the door momentarily. When she recieved no answer, Aylwen figured Delia must have already been awake.

Then Aylwen made her way downstairs, where Froma was already up and cooking with some of the help from the previous day. Bethberry was in the meadhall, talking in a hushed voice to the newest overnight patron of the White Horse. Aylwen did not wish to disturb Bethberry and interrupt her conversation, so she began to head into the kitchens to see if she could help Froma.

"Aylwen!" called Bethberry before Aylwen could disappear behind the kitchen door. "It is Farmer's Market day today, we may need to get some supplies for the week."

"Alright. I'll start a list so if Froma or Delia or you need anything it won't be forgotten," suggested Aylwen, and Bethberry nodded. Sneaking a little peek over where the Innkeeper was, Aylwen caught a glimpse of who she was talking to. It was a strange little creature, about half her size. Aylwen was unable to ponder on it longer as the kitchen door came flying open, sending Aylwen stumbling backward. Looking up, she saw Talan carrying a big case of clean glasses and mugs.

"Sorry there Miss," he said gruffly, heaving the case over and behind the bar and began to put the clean glasses away. Aylwen nodded and helped him put away glasses, thinking of how even the simple mugs for ale could be used as musical instruments. It might be something interesting to try if she had a spare moment that day.

When she was done helping Talan, Aylwen wearily shuffled into the kitchens looking for Froma. She found Froma stirring some sort of soup or broth and inhaling the steam deeply from time to time. Aylwen gently put a hand on Froma's shoulder, which caused the cook to jump frantically.

"Foolish girl! You'll ruin the soup! You'll make me spill it! What do you want?" Froma finished her accusations with a curious tone, which made the cook's words seem almost humorous to Aylwen.

"Do you need anything from the Farmer's Market today?" Aylwen asked loudly, trying to be heard over the crashing of pots and pans and the sudden squeals of steam from cooking breakfast foods. Froma seemed to have no trouble being heard and had no trouble hearing either in the kitchens. "Just write it down and I'll get it for you, you seem rather...busy."

Aylwen left the kitchens, and returned to the meadhall with the aroma of warm soup about her. It would be a busy day, she knew, even if the party was done and the guests were gone.

As today is a Farmer's Market day in Edoras, you can post about being outside the Inn purchasing necessaries for the week like food, clothes, etc. Remember, it is ten years before the War of the Ring takes place.

[ July 10, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

Taralphiel

07-11-2003, 12:01 AM

Lachlan drove his cart back to the cellars with a contented grin. Though he had not struck up any meaningful conversations at the celebration, he had stayed out of any trouble, which he was very grateful for.

Hopping down from the cart, he saw his father wave him over 'You enjoyed your rest I suppose?' he said with a chuckle 'Not as much as you are supposing father' he grinned 'I stayed out of trouble this time you'll be glad to know. Bethberry didnt know I was there!'

'Well, I am glad to hear that' said his father, and walked him over to more kegs of different things 'More deliveries around the area today, though I do not know if the White Horse is on your list. Ive also got some other things I want picked up from the baker and so forth' He handed Lachlan the list. Looking it up and down, he saw he had plenty of work. 'Its always this way on market day' he said with a sigh and loaded up the cart.

'Ah well. A new day, and mayeb a more eventful one' he said as he spurred the horse forward.

Daniel Telcontar

07-11-2003, 01:41 PM

Talan wiped the dust from his hands after putting the glasses away, but they were still dirty from the box they had been in. Knowing how Froma felt with dirt in her kitchen, he sighed and washed them as best as he could in the trough for the horses.

He then entered the kitchen, which was filled with dirty pots and pans, dishes, forks and knives and all kinds of things that had been used for the party yesterday.

"What?" Froma asked, when Talan entered his domain.
"Er, do you be needin' any help?" He asked hesitantly, still a bit frightened of the cook though he had worked here for several days.
"No, I don't need any help, just to be alone. Get out of my kitchen!"

Talan almost leapt out of the kitchen, and for the second time nearly burst into Aylwen.
"Er, today is Farmer's Day, right?" he asked. She nodded, and looked at him, seeing there was more he wished to say.
"When you be going to town to buy, you'll take me with you, right? You see, I would be mighty glad to take a look of the town, but, you see, I am not to familiar with the city... And I guess you'll be wanting help with loadin' things on the cart, and such?"

Aylwen looked at him for a few seconds, and then guessed what it was; the poor boy was shy, and a bit scared of going to town alone without anyone he knew.
"Thank you Talan, your help shall be much appreciated. I will be sure to tell you when I go," she said gently, providing him with a way to go to market without feeling embarassed. Talan's face shone with joy as he said his thanks and walked along excited like a little boy.

[ July 12, 2003: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]

Bêthberry

07-11-2003, 01:47 PM

Okay, just to keep the rush of posts down to a dull roar, here's the scoop on this activity.

A Farmer's Market is a weekly gathering of farmers, merchant and guildsmen to sell their wares. Think of sidewalk kiosks in the US hawking teeshirts, bagels and hot dogs. Or of open-air food and specialty markets in European cities. Paris, for instance, even has a famous weekly market devoted to animals, for pets. Kitchener-Waterloo in Canada has a Mennonite Market, where farmers bring their produce in horse-drawn buggies, still, even today.

It can have a carnival-like atmosphere, not as high key as a party, but still an opportunity for a special kind of exchange between the vendors and customers.

Buskers--musicians playing for money--can roam the stalls. Children can gawk at the exciting new things for sale. Sweethearts can meet away from the suspicious eyes of parents. Adults can relax a little with a different pace to their day.

What can gamers do?
-- post about buying weekly supplies of produce, chicken, geese, ducks, (live), other food stuffs and household supplies. Think of the sounds and the smells!
--sell their wares, such a glassware, pottery, jewllery, quilts, feather pillows, wall hangings, iron goods, such as knives, axes, nails.
--buy ribbons and laces and toys, clothe and clothes.

How can gamers do this?
--create several characters if you wish for your post, and run them for several posts, your main character and some secondary characters
--those who work at the Horse can do the buying, in planning with Aywlen perhaps or the Innkeeper herself. Perhaps Iswyn and Talan can do this with some help from other maids.
--those who live in the town and surrounding areas are coming in for the sales. Will they stop by the Horse for a meal before or after attending the market?

AND...

What is a market without thieves and pickpockets? And how shall they be caught and brought to justice? And what does justice in Edoras consist of?

If you want to play a thief or catch a thief, PM Aylwen Dreamsong to plan a little subplot.

[ July 13, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

VanimaEdhel

07-11-2003, 04:13 PM

Castar swore as he hurriedly fixed himself a good spot at the market. Tinu had thrown a shoe a good two miles from the gates of Edoras, costing Castar nearly an hour and a half. The horse was now at the local blacksmith, getting a new shoe. Castar had arranged for the horse to be put in a stable at the White Horse Inn, where Castar would be staying that night. Castar usually liked to arrive very early to Edoras in order to secure the best spot he could find. Now, however, he had to compete with the other traders in finding a suitable location to set up his pottery. Luckily, none of his wares had been damaged when Tinu had spooked at the loss of his shoe. This past month had been particularly light back at home in Eodrath, and Castar hoped to make up for his losses in Edoras this market week. He did not worry too much, as he usually managed to sell everything he had left when he came for his monthly visit to the Farmer’s Market.

Once the table was set up, Castar went to get a cloth to cover it. He chose the old cloth with Quenya written around the edges and patterns upon the face. His father had bought the cloth from a trader at this market when he was young. His father believed that the cloth brought luck, and so both Battir and his son, Castar, used the cloth every month when they went to the market. Neither had been able to find out what the cloth said, but Battir was told that it was a Quenya prayer. Castar always kept his eye out to see if he could find an Elf to translate the ancient writing for him. Not many Elves came through the market though. What would an Elf need with Rohirric pottery, food, or glassware? Nonetheless, it was always good to keep a lookout for a possible translator…

Castar carefully began to put his best pottery on the table. He stood back to admire the work he had done. Castar knew that he was an even better potter than old Battir. A few winters ago, Battir had begun to show signs of his age, so he now stayed home with Phâryn, Castar’s mother, while Castar did the family trading at the market. As the only child of the family, Castar felt an obligation to his parents, so he remained at home, caring for them when he could. This worried the family, for Castar was no longer young; at the age of thirty-four, he was showing no signs of interest in any of the women from Eodrath. Castar had promised his family he would keep an eye open for a potential wife in Edoras, but he doubted he would follow through with that promise. In Edoras, it was more fun to look at the women than to actually speak to them, Castar thought.

It was much better looking at the women, Castar thought to himself as he watched some young ladies not too far away from him setting up a fruit stand. He looked across at them and smiled. They giggled and blushed, continuing to set up. Castar was told he was handsome by some. He did not think his looks were extraordinary in any way. They, in fact, were not extraordinary, but they were still fairly pleasing. Castar pushed a lock of straight sandy-brown hair that had escaped the ribbon he used to tie his hair back out of his eyes. His mother always wanted him to cut his hair. Castar chuckled at the memory of his mother telling him he would be so handsome if he would only cut his hair. Castar knew it would make no difference and, even if it did, what did he care?

"Do you like those women?" a voice said. Castar turned around to face a man about his age. He had dark hair, nearly black, and piercing gray eyes.

"Not particularly," Castar replied, "They are fun to look at, though, I suppose." Castar looked at the man in front of him, "You don’t happen to have Elf blood in you? For you look as the tales describe them."

"No," the young man said, smiling apologetically, "I do get asked that quite a bit, though. What is your name?"

"My birth name is Luthur, but I like people to call me Castar," Castar said, as he extended his hand to the handsome man.

"You nickname yourself for money? Is that not proud?" the young man said, smiling, "I am Windheneb. But my friends call me Winde. Windheneb is Sindarin and it means blue and grey-eyed. Winde simply means blue-grey."

"That is quite an explanation," Castar said as Winde took his hand, "Are you sure you have no Elf in you? For, as you said, that name is Elvish."

"No, I am sure," Winde said. He gestured over Castar’s shoulder. Castar turned just in time to see the ladies that he had smiled at stare at Winde for a second more. They giggled when they realized that he knew they were watching him and went back about their business. Castar exhaled in amusement at their fascination with his new acquaintance.

"You said that your friends call you Winde. What shall I call you?" Castar asked.

Winde’s eyes glittered, "What do you think you should call me?"

"Well, Henny is a nice name," Castar said, feigning consideration of the nickname.

"If you go on like that, you can call me Windheneb," said Winde, "No. Just call me Winde."

"That suits me," Castar said, "So what do you deal?" At the look of confusion on Winde’s face, he clarified, "What are you selling here?"

"Oh," Winde said, "I sell clothing. I make it myself, you know." Winde stood up a bit taller, showing pride in his work. Castar did not voice his opinion that fashioning clothing was for women, but merely nodded and gave a little "hmmm" of approval.

"What do you sell?" Winde asked him. Castar showed Winde his pottery and told him about Battir and Phâryn, his parents. He explained the family trade, his brief life story, and even showed Winde the cloth with Quenya writing. He told him about his home town of Eodrath, a teeny town about twenty or twenty-five miles down the Great West Road from Edoras. Castar did not know why he was telling this new friend all of this, but it felt good to just talk to someone. Winde told him that he had lived in Edoras all his life. His mother made clothing and his father had been a shop owner, in which they sold his mother’s clothing among other things. His father still owned the store, but his mother had taken ill a few months back. Winde had been taught to sew by his mother at an early age, in the hopes of keeping him quiet when he was a child. He had taken over the manufacturing of the clothing when his mother fell sick, and he hoped to continue making clothing even after his mother gained back her strength. He had two sisters, both of who were married, one to a blacksmith and the other to a city guard. They had families of their own, so they were too busy to help in the care of Winde’s mother. Winde was twenty-seven and unmarried. He told Castar that he liked women too much to be married. Castar laughed, wholeheartedly agreeing with the sentiment.

"But," Castar said, "If the right woman were to come along…?"

"Then she should watch out, "Winde said. "But," he continued, "For now it is still more fun to be single." He gestured back to the young women, who were looking at him again.

"I do envy your luck," Castar said.

"It is all about how you hold yourself," Winde said, "You have to exude confidence."

Castar snorted, "Exude confidence? Where did you hear that?"

"A friend of mine said it once, but that’s not the point. You have to believe the women want to give their attention to you, even if they do not. Maybe I will share my secrets later…if you prove to be worthy of my attention," Winde said, a gleam in his eye. "Will you be staying here?"

"I am the only one to sell the pottery," Castar said, nodding.

"I am right over there. I will be back later, when I can get one of my sisters to take care of the booth. Then maybe I can teach you the Art of Women."

Castar waved good-bye to Winde as the handsome man made his way back to his table. He was still laughing a bit at the cockiness of the young man. Castar had never met a man like this Winde. He hoped he was not making a mistake trusting him so soon. Well, Castar always did have the knife in his pocket, should anything go awry. He smiled again to himself, sitting down behind his table and awaiting his first customer. The young women had set up their table and were now standing behind it, giggling and occasionally looking at Winde.

----------------------------------------------
OOC: Bethberry told me that I can put up that Winde is up for grabs if anyone wants to play him. I gave you a basic biography and you've seen his style. I can probably still play him if no one claims him, but he seems like a character that people would want to play. If you want him, just take over. You don't need to PM me about it.

[ July 11, 2003: Message edited by: VanimaEdhel ]

The X Phial

07-11-2003, 10:45 PM

Aldhelm entered the market square in the smaller of his carts. On market days he brought both carts into the city, sending Deol with the larger to deliver flour to the inns, bakeries, and larger households of the city, including the Golden Hall, while he brought the smaller to market. The less affluent families needed flour too, after all, and Aldhelm was a staple of the square. The richer households also benefited from his stall, as he usually had several jars of honey for sale. Honey was to be had from others, of course, but Aldhelm's wife took good care of her hives and many people swore that her bees made the sweetest honey in Rohan. He usually countered with a "not as sweet as Mae herself", for none could compete with Maedlyn in Aldhelm's mind.

Today, of course, Deol would be joining Aldhelm after his rounds, for they had delivered flour to the White Horse and all the surrounding neighborhood the night before and that would free up several hours for the lad. Aldhelm was glad of the chance to teach the boy some of the finer points of market days. Milling was more than grinding grain and delivering flour, it was relationships with farmers and bakers and innkeepers and housemaids. People needed flour and would buy from a surly miller if need be, but Aldhelm knew that he could get the things he needed much easier if he and his flour were valued by the community.

The horses were hitched and the flour and honey was on display when the street musicians began to arrive. Aldhelm waved to a piper he knew well. They had a good relationship, the piper benefiting from the high traffic around the stall and Aldhelm enjoying the music and tales. He tossed the musician a copper coin.

"It's not a market day without your tunes, friend."

"Nor without your smile."

They shared a smile and the sweet notes of a familiar dance tune started as farmers, maids, wives and children began to enter the square. Women with bouquets began to wander, hawking their wares, and the market settled into its familiar pattern.

*Varda*

07-12-2003, 03:40 AM

Iona hopped out of bed the next morning as the sun shone into her small room at the Inn. Pulling on her green dress, and simply running a comb through her hair, she descended the stairs. It was early yet, but she wanted to become more acquainted with the Inn and its surroundings.

She had heard from another maid that it was the Farmer’s Market today – the perfect opportunity to buy the few things that she needed. It was possible she might even see her father, or one of her brothers selling food grown on the farm – this would be a blessing, since it would save her the tedious task of writing to her family to let them know her situation. And the way her mother would fret over her losing her last job…all in all, it was best if someone went home and told her that they had seen Iona in the flesh, and that she was doing fine.

Already there was life in the White Horse, and people seemed to be taking advantage of the market today, rising early. Iona had been informed that the Inn would grow steadily busier today, and so it made sense that the majority of the staff would be shopping early, before the buyers and sellers grew thirsty and came flocking to the Inn.

Looking into the kitchen, Froma was already up, and Iona stopped to wish him a good morning, and eat a quick breakfast. To her surprise, the cook responded cheerfully to her greeting, and the girl sat down to her breakfast with a smile on her face.

Ten minutes later, having eaten, Iona ran upstairs to slip a few coins into her pocket, and grab a basket for any purchases she might make, before slipping out the door of the Inn. Within a few minutes she found herself among the hustle and bustle of the streets of Edoras. The atmosphere was lively – different strains of music came to her ears from opposite ends of the street. She walked past a young man playing merrily on a flute, and smiled at him. She soon paused at a stall selling clothing, and fingered the soft fabrics, the colours bright and cheerful. She did need a new skirt really…she had spilt ale all over one, and never had a chance to replace it. Looking at the prices, she made her choice and picked out one in a beautiful wine colour. Paying the woman behind the stall, she put the skirt in her basket and continued along her way.

Totally absorbed in the sounds and smells of the busy streets, Iona walked on, so busy watching the goings on and other people’s actions she was taken completely by surprise as a pair of strong arms swung her small frame around, lifting her off the ground.

“Iona! We’d hoped to see you here!” said a voice from somewhere above her head, as that said person tried to regain her balance and her dignity, now her feet were safely back on earth. Looking up, she smiled.

“Eorwine! I thought I might see you!” she said with delight, seeing the face of one of her brothers above her. “Who else is with you?”

“Leod,” Eorwine responded, drawing Iona into a corner, away from the middle of the busy street. “Tell me, how do things go with you? Have you found another job? Our mother was frantic with worry when she heard you lost your job – she conjured up images of you starving on the streets! We all knew it was ridiculous, of course, but this will set her mind at rest, as you seem well enough.”

Iona laughed. “I knew she’d worry, I was going to write tonight if I didn’t see anyone who could pass messages on. Thankfully, I’m spared that task! Yes, I have a new job – in the White Horse inn!” Realising that the morning would be drawing on, Iona prepared to leave. “I still have a few things left to buy, but come in for your lunch! I will be serving then.” Another hug and smile parted the two, and Iona went off to browse more stalls.

Estelyn Telcontar

07-12-2003, 05:52 AM

Leaving one of the older seamstresses to supervise the morning’s sewing tasks, Annawyn made her way to the weekly market, carrying a basket for her purchases. She looked forward to the bustling atmosphere and contagious excitement that filled the market square.
She needed little, since most foodstuffs for her large household were delivered, but there were a few small luxuries that she allowed herself to choose personally.

Her first stop was at Aldhelm’s stall, not to buy flour, since she preferred buying bread from the bakery, spending her precious time sewing rather than baking. She wished to purchase some of the wonderful honey he had, and smiled a greeting at him. “How is Maedlyn?” she asked.

“Sweet as always,” he replied, “though I am careful to avoid her sting!”

Annawyn laughed. “Give her my greetings and thanks to her bees for the honey,” she said in parting. She paused for a moment to listen to the piper’s merry tunes, tapping her foot in rhythm with the music, and laid a small coin in his upturned hat before turning away.

Next she went to the cheesemaker’s to buy a small cheese with walnuts in it, his specialty. It was worth the higher price she paid for it, and she always enjoyed eating it. Then she added fresh fruits to her purchases, along with a few carrots. Some soap and candles filled her basket, and she was finished with the necessities for the week.

There was no need to go back home immediately, so Annawyn strolled around the market place at a leisurely pace, stopping to chat with friends and acquaintances or to inspect various wares. She smiled at a handsome young man selling clothing, noting his appraising gaze. He was probably more interested in the cut of her dress than in her face, she knew, but still, it was nice to be admired. She would never be too old to enjoy that.

With a start, she suddenly realised that the sun stood high in the sky. It would soon be time to release the young seamstresses and apprentices for their noon break, always a little longer on market day to give them the opportunity to make their own purchases. Annawyn hastened her steps homewards.

Bêthberry

07-12-2003, 10:31 AM

The Innkeeper sat at her desk, bleary-eyed from a night of little sleep and a previous day of long labour. She looked over the list of things which Froma wanted from the Market. She looked at the list of things she needed from the Market. There was much too much to buy for one person and she was really very tired. She decided to make a long list for Iswyn and Talan to take to Market. They could carry back the lighter items and have the merchants deliver the other products later in the afternoon.

three geese, live
five ducks, live
cream cheese and head cheese
cinnamon sticks and cardamon pods--three handfuls each
cloves--two handfuls
sugar beets
teas--black, green, orange

Bêthberry chuckled slightly to herself at the thought of the two balancing the cages of the animals with the other goods. She was able to keep a goat and chickens behind the Inn but had no room nor water enough for larger fowl. She hoped Hamish would be able to deliver them himself as the end of the day. She went back to writing her list.

soap flakes and bars
twelve pillow slips
sheets for two beds
nails, thumb-length and forefinger-length, one bag each
a hammar
another set of tack for the stable
two pitchforks

Seeing Iswyn come down the stairs, she called to the girl.

"Iswyn, has Froma given you any crucial work to do this morning in the kitchen? Work that only you can do?"

"No, Theora can do the plucking for the chicken stew."

"Then here, take this list with Talan, and here's the coin you need, to market. You've a good head on your shoulders and you'll be able to choose the best looking birds. And mind that the cheese is not overripe."

Iswyn nodded with excitement. A valid, real reason to be at Market. She couldn't believe her luck. At least a half day away from work. And spending part of it with Talan and part--well, Iswyn didn't finish the thought. She wondered what Delia would think. Then she giggled and ran off to find the young lad.

Bêthberry sank back into her large wicker chair, sipping on her tea and nibbling again at her breakfast toast and honey. The sweet brought back her memories of her strange night conversation with Madi. How he had enjoyed the honey, saying, "Gold, gold" as he sniffed the bread before eating it. There was something whimsically dear about the little fellow's eagerness to please her, something which brought a smile to her face and lightened the tiredness she felt in her limbs and back.

She looked back over the papers on her desk and found that she had forgotten to add to Iswyn's list the cloth needed for the elegant new table linens. Frowning, she muttered to herself under her breath with frustration and then almost jumped when she felt a poke at her left side.

"Yipes," squealed the Innkeeper in surprise and saw, as she looked down, huge round eyes, hooded, peering up at her reprovingly.

"Berry," said Madi, "don't hurt yourself."

"I beg your pardon?" she exclaimed.

"Don't mad yourself. It hurts."

The Innkeeper smiled into the earnest dark eyes of the little man and once again impulsively ruffled his messy dark hair. He rested his small hand on her forearm.

"Well, what shall I do, Madi? I need a bolt of blue satin cloth and forgot to put it on the market list. And I can"t leave the Inn unattended. And everyone else has gone to Market."

Madi looked up at her, excitement shining in his face and giving him a lopsided grin.

"Madi will do," he said.

Bêthberry thought for a minute. A long minute. She looked at her list and then she looked back at Madi.

"Blue satin," she said. "I need a bolt of blue satin cloth." Madi nodded his head eagerly, so eagerly his hood fell off his face. There was still a rim of chocolate stain around his mouth, a faint line of moustache, and a smudge of it on his nose. Bethberry wiped it all gently with a small handkerchief from her pocket and then placed in his palm two gold and three silver coins.

"Run off now and do this simple chore for me," she said. "Bring me blue satin." Madi tightened his fingers around the coins and tried hard to remember all the sensations he was experiencing. He didn't want to fail her.

Bêthberry sank back into her chair, wondering if she would be able to catch up on sleep later in the day.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

OOC: Maedlyn, the miller Aldhelm's wife, is with child and will shortly give birth. XPhial, who runs these characters, is looking for someone to play the midwife. Anyone who is interested should PM XPhial. The birthing is expected a few days after Market Day.

And scroll back to VanimaEdhel's post. She is offering her character Winde to anyone who would like to take him over. He's a fun guy.

[ July 13, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Thenamir

07-12-2003, 11:33 PM

Laevin was up as usual before the dawn, with only a mild headache for the previous night's ale. It was a small price to pay for such a friendly and festive gathering.

After a small cold breakfast he readied his cart, which, of his own design, converted in a few steps to a market booth, already loaded and ready to show his metalworking wares -- all the common household metal goods that no home should be without. He was especially proud of his knives, polished and shiny, and sharp enough to shave with. He also would hone and sharpen blades that people brought in for a small fee. Mostly, though, he went to see everyone and to keep alive old friendships and contacts.

He arrived just as the earliest comers were setting up shop, and guided his new young workhorse to his normal spot in the rows of stalls. In a few motions he had unhitched his horse and was ready for the day. He spread out his wares just as the first market-goers began arriving.

A glance across the way espied Aldhelm and Deol in their usual spot, and Laevin was reminded of the new axlerod for the miller's expanding business. He would have to make sure to get the measurements before the day was out. Laevin did no baking of his own, except for the iron he baked at his shop, so he made plans to get his attention later in the market day. But he always carried a soft loaf or two to his market day, to show how sharp and fine his knives were...

And with that, his first customer began inspecting a new axe head, and the boisterous day had begun.

Idgian

07-13-2003, 08:45 AM

If Madi had ever had a more important mission, he couldn’t think of it. He scurried towards the market, tightly clutching the money in his small fist. With his face deeply hidden in the depths of his hood, he looked no more than an excited child.

He couldn’t believe Berry had agreed to set him to work already. That meant he was in line for some nice. All he had to do first was complete this simple chore – and it was simple for Berry told him so – and return to the inn with a blue satin bolt . . . whatever that was!

Madi could see the market square now, and the lines of stalls stretching ahead in the distance. He quickened his pace, and had to stop himself squealing with excitement. The other people travelling to market chattered among themselves oblivious to the impish figure dodging and weaving between them.

When Berry had taken him in last night, Madi immediately felt peaceful in her presence. The inn held many sights and colours for Madi’s quirky senses to taste and hear. He remembered fondly the moment Berry had sat him down and asked questions of his past. It had been some time since anyone took an interest in Madi.

It had been just after the angry kitchen man had thumped a pot of honey and a plate of rye bread down on the table, along with a hot chocolate for the strange newcomer. Madi and Bethberry sat looking at each other across a table beside the dying embers of a fire.

“Madi, will anyone be missing you?” Bethberry asked once the kitchen man had left the hall.

Madi wasn’t listening. He had noticed a red flower, set in a huge bunch of white lilies, and was transfixed by it.

“Madi!” Bethberry stressed. Instantly she won back the little man’s attention. “Will anyone be looking for you?”

“No,” replied Madi, as if the answer were obvious.

“What about your family?”

Madi shrugged. “Don’t know. Never met them!”

Bethberry sighed. “Let’s try this a different way. You tell me where you’ve come from, okay?”

“Mini Trith.”

Bethberry looked at Madi, long and hard. “Do you mean Minas Tirith?” she asked after a moment.

Madi rolled his big, dark eyes. “Madi said that: Minky Ting!”

Bethberry let it go, and gave a tired chuckle. “And what were you doing there?”

“Helping Master Jian,” Madi replied, and took a long noisy slurp of his chocolate. “Jian gave Madi nice,” he added reflectively, and wiped chocolate froth from the end of his nose.

“Then why did you leave?”

The impish figure gazed forlornly into space. His eyes began to moisten and his lower lip trembled. “Before Master Jian, people chased ugly Madi.”

Oh my, Bethberry thought, the sight of him frightened people. He was shunned. “This Master Jian took you in as a helper? He showed you kindness?”

Madi nodded, shaking a single tear onto his cheek. “Master Jian was old. He died. Madi was ugly again and ran away.”

“And you ran all the way here,” Bethberry whispered. Because you were too frightened to stay, she added mentally. “Well, you’ve come to the right place, Madi,” she said brightly, ruffling his unruly, black hair, and wiping the tear from his cheek. “We’ve an abundance of kindness here.”

Madi gave a cautious look at the kitchen door, and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Even the kitchen man?”

Bethberry gave out a light, rich laugh and patted Madi’s hand. “You little dear,” she chuckled. “I think perhaps you have had more than your fair share of questions for one night. Eat some of this honey and rye, and then sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

A rush of sound assaulted Madi’s senses and he came back to the present. He was in the thick of the market square now, and the atmosphere was almost overwhelming. He stood still and allowed the wash of noise to flow over him. This truly was a good place.

A bellowing voice, loud enough to be heard above the crowd’s tumult, reached his ears. It advertised wares for a stall. “Silks and satins! Sack-cloth and linen!”

Satin, thought Madi excitedly, and he made his way towards the sound of the voice.

There was something troubling Madi about his new friend, Berry, something he couldn’t shake. Last night, during their conversation and the immense kindness she had shown him, Madi realised that he couldn’t quite place the colour of her scent. It was a curious thing, but Madi associated different people with different colours. Each colour bore a particular smell. Usually they were variants of reds, greens, and blues, but with Berry he could smell an off-colour, a shade he’d never seen before, and now he was worried. Berry wanted him to buy her blue, but that was not Berry’s smell. She was not a blue person. Surely that meant he was buying the wrong thing!

He came to a stall displaying many different materials. The owner was a thin man, with dark coloured, sunburnt skin. He smiled wolfishly, and charmed a small group of women who paused to view his wares. Uninterested with the man’s banter, Madi crept closer to view the colours of the materials, using the bustling woman to hide him.

It wasn’t that Madi felt Berry didn’t understand her colour; she was, after all, a good and clever person. She was just unaware of it. He was sure. And as he spied some fine, blue silk on the stall, and sniffed deeply, he became positive of the fact. Berry did not realise that blue was not her colour.

Madi needed to remedy the situation. Trouble was he didn’t know the name of her colour smell. He could almost picture the shade in his head, but it always turned into the colour of the honey he’d eaten last night, for some reason. He scanned the rest of the materials on the stall. There was a red that came near, a yellow also, but none matched the scent of Berry.

Madi turned from the stall, hands on hips, and scoured the market place. He was determined to find the colour and return it to his new friend. It had to be somewhere. She would be so pleased if he could find her true colour. But where to find it!

A smell suddenly filled his nostrils, and Madi flinched. He looked about frantically, expecting to see the Landlady of the White Horse close by. But she was nowhere in sight. Madi sniffed the air again. Something near had the same colour scent as Berry! He closed his eyes, and followed the smell. After a few moments, which included curses by those who nearly trampled upon the small hooded figure, Madi bumped his forehead against the lip of a stall, and fell hard on his behind.

As Madi rose, simultaneously rubbing his head and rump, the owner of the stall peered over at him.

“Are you all right, little one?” she asked.

Madi ignored the question. He was staring at a small glass ball, sitting in amongst many other trinkets on a purple cushion. It sparkled dully in the sun’s light: not quite red, not quite yellow. He tried to grab it, but his arm wasn’t long enough.

The stall owner chuckled. “Here,” she said, “Do you want to see this?” She picked the ball up between thumb and forefinger. Madi nodded enthusiastically and held out a grabbing hand.

“It’s made of amber,” the stall lady said and dropped it onto Madi’s out-stretched palm.

“Amber,” Madi whispered. The word tasted right. He smelt the ball’s colour to make sure. A heady scent filled his nostrils and he sighed. There could be no mistake. Berry’s colour was Amber!

“You’ll have to pay for it, if you want to keep it,” The trinket seller said, a little distrusting of the small, hooded figure.

Madi frowned, and then remembered the money still clenched in his fist. Without hesitation, he dropped the handful of coins onto the lady’s stall. A huge, hidden smile of triumph split his face.

The stall-owner looked down at the coins scattered on her stall. She chuckled once again. “You needn’t pay a quarter of this,” she said. “Not for that small thing . . .” She looked up to find the hooded figure gone. She searched the milling crowd, but there was no sign of him.

Leaving the square and hitting the road back to the White Horse, Madi clutched the Amber ball in his fist even tighter than he’d clutched the money. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, eager to present Berry with her true colour. This would be a good day for a good place.

[ July 13, 2003: Message edited by: Idgian ]

Sophia the Thunder Mistress

07-15-2003, 01:47 PM

Iswyn nodded excitedly at Talan as she read off the items from Bêthberry's list. As she hurried to keep up with the young man's long strides her dress swished around her ankles. She was glad she'd taken the time to put on one of her nicer dresses that morning, just in case... She only wished she'd had a chance to do something nicer with her hair. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and the quick walking brought a pink flush to her freckled cheeks.

Iswyn nodded absently, as Talan mentioned stopping first for the fowl. "And then..." Iswyn's smile was shy and her cheeks somewhat pinker than before. "Then we can split up, right Tal?" The young man cast a sidelong glance at Iswyn and chuckled, but she didn't notice it. All she saw was his nod, as he tore Bêthberry's list in half and thrust the first half into her hand. "Thanks Tal!"

The sounds of the market greeted them cheerily as soon as they neared the center of town, and following the sound they quickly found where Hamish had set up his stand. A tall man with a red face and hooked nose, Hamish was Bêthberry's preferred source for poultry, mainly because he could sometimes be prevailed upon to deliver in his wagon at the end of the day. Leaving Talan to haggle prices, and hopefully badger Hamish into delivering, Iswyn went round the side of the stall and peered through the wooden slats at the birds inside. Quickly selecting three of the plumpest geese and five ducks, Iswyn watched while Hamish nailed the struggling birds into smaller wooden crates. Tal gave her a grateful grin as he handed over the money for the fowl and reminded Hamish that he'd be back by for them later that afternoon.

As they walked away from the poultry stand, Talan tipped half of the money Bêthberry had given them into Iswyn's hand. She tucked it carefully in the pocket hanging at her waist, relishing the clink of coins as they settled into their new positions. Talan shot her a warning look. "Make sure those don't clink too much, Iswyn... not everyone around her can be trusted." He glanced around carefully.

Iswyn grinned. "I won't. And Tal, don't get any horrid pillowslips." She pointed to Bêthberry's list. "Get plain white, or perhaps with very small designs around the edges." Holding up her fingers to demonstrate small, the girl giggled. No sense in trusting a man to get pillow slips on his own. Talan coughed into his hand and muttered something. Iswyn nodded, "I won't be responsible, Tal, if Mistress Bêthberry thinks they're ugly." She poked the tip of her tongue out between pearly teeth at him.

"Your wish is my will, Lady Iswyn." He laughed, making a mock bow to her. "Do meet me back at Hamish's an hour past noon!" he called back over his shoulder as he disappeared into the buzz of the marketplace.

On her own now, Iswyn wandered through the stalls smelling deeply and stopping now and then to finger the fine materials and satin ribbons at some of the stalls. She had a bit of pocket money, she might be back later for a bright blue ribbon or a bit of fine lace to trim a handkerchief. She let her eyes wander lazily over her half of Bêthberry's list as she walked:

cream cheese and head cheese
cinnamon sticks and cardamon pods--three handfuls each
cloves--two handfuls
sugar beets
teas--black, green, orange

The spices attracted her first, and she leaned over a bin of cloves, breathing in their exotic smell with relish. Before she lowered her hand in, however, to measure out the required two handfuls, she paused. Did she really want to do all her shopping right off? She'd have to carry the heavy parcels with her all day... Iswyn pulled her hand back from the bin of cloves, sniffing appreciatively once more. It wouldn't do to get laden down too early. Simply wouldn't do.

elven maiden Earwen

07-15-2003, 02:17 PM

Ravenna sat inside cutting cloth. She hadn’t gotten much done today as she was distracted by the lively music playing outside. She hadn’t been to the Farmer’s Market in a while and couldn’t wait to be let out for their afternoon break. Ravenna looked down at her scissors. They weren’t cutting well and Ravenna noticed they had a dull edge. Just then Annawyn entered carrying a basket of the items she bought.

“Girls” Annawyn said clapping three times to get their attention. “Go outside and get some fresh air, but I expect you to be back soon” she said dismissing them.

“Annawyn, my scissors edge is blunt and do not cut well. I need to get them fixed.” Ravenna said.

“Yes you do.” Annawyn said studding the scissors. “Go to Laevin's booth in the market. He is a smith and will repair them for you”.

“Yes Madam.” Ravenna said before hurrying off with Mellaith towards the market.
The streets were filled with people, walking around getting their supplies for the week. Young children chased each other as the adults wandered around stopping to make their purchases. The girls smiled and giggled as they made their way down the streets.

“Mellaith, I have to stop to get my scissors fixed” Ravenna said as she pointed towards a booth. They headed towards the booth. A man stood helping his customers.

“Hello, Laevin are you not? Ravenna asked.

“Yes I am, and how may I help you on such a fine day?”

“Annawyn sent me to get my scissors sharpened” Ravenna said handing them to Laevin.

“They will be ready soon.” Laevin said as he watched Ravenna dropped a few coins into his hand. “Thank you”. Ravenna and Mellaith walked off.

“Ravenna look!” Mellaith exclaimed.” It’s Bellawyn”. She quickly ran over to wear Bellawyn stood holding a basket; she used to fill with her purchases.

“Bellawyn! I haven’t seen you in forever” Mellaith said as she greeted her old friend. “What are you doing here?”

“My mum sent me to do the weekly purchasing.” She said a wide smile on her face. “You want to help?” the girls agreed with eager smiles as they followed Bellawyn down the street. They bought fruits and vegetables and meat and poultry. They saw all kings of things such as beautiful jewelry and clothing. The girls purchased some small trinkets. Soon they knew they should be heading home, so they bid Bellawyn goodbye and headed home.

“My scissors!” Ravenna exclaimed
remembering that she hadn’t picked them up. The two girls hurried to Laevin’s booth.

“Excuse me sir. Are my scissors ready?”

“I was starting to believe you had forgotten about them” he said as he turned around and handed them to her. “Here they are.”

“Thank you” she said as she and Mellaith scurried home. Just in time she thought as they made it home. The rest of the girls were just getting back too.

The X Phial

07-15-2003, 03:45 PM

Deol wandered around the market on what his boss called a "scouting mission." He was to return in a few hours with an accounting of at least 20 potential customers to the stall. Aldhelm was always giving him chores like this. He called them grooming exerises, a chance to expand Deol's view of the business from simply grinding grain and carrying bags of flour.

"After all," the miller would often say, "there's more to milling than milling."

Deol liked his master and knew that he was relatively lucky when it came to apprenticeships. His father, a tanner, had been killed in a raid when he was young and none of the other tanners were keen to take on the son of their former competition as an apprentice. Luckily, Aldhelm had only a daughter and needed an apprentice to ensure the continuance of the mill. If all went according to plan Deol would marry Lathyn, the daughter and through her inherit at least partial ownership of the mill. Even if the new child was a son, his future was secure.

The problem with all of this, of course, was that Deol was 16 and Lathyn 9, hardly the stuff of the romantic tales he heard weekly at the inn and that his mother used to tell him long ago. Deol liked his future wife well enough, for a child, but she had the infuriating habit of following him around the property when he was supposed to be working. And she was so quiet, it unnerved him. Usually on market days she would ride into town to help with the shopping, but her mother was very close to the end of her confinement now and needed all the help she could get around the house. Deol revelled in his freedom. He had two hours in which to wander the market with no Aldhelm and no Lathyn on his tail.

From somewhere behind him, Deol heard a familiar laugh. He turned to see Iswyn watching an impomptu play on the market square. He knew, Iswyn, of course, from his deliveries. She was usually elbow deep in dishwater, but even then he found her pretty. Now, with her hair neat and her nice clothes on, she seemed to him the fairest girl he had ever seen. Shoving aside the niggling voice of reason that said he was already intended, he went and bought a small bouquet from one of the women walking the market.

"Fair lady," he said as he approached her, in only a half mocking tone, "would you do me the honor of walking with me through the market." He presented the bouquet and winked, trying hard not to blush.

Lyra Greenleaf

07-16-2003, 07:56 AM

Theora rocked back on her heels as she observed the tub full of…white. There was bed linen, table linen, napkins, aprons and more. All sorts, soaking now. But for how long? Theora made a mental note to ask Froma. Laundering was one thing that she had rarely done at home and it wasn’t quite as easy as washing up. Stifling a sigh she turned her gaze around the kitchen. Various girls and a few men had passed through, laughing, talking and having fun. It made her miss her family. She’d seen Iswyn and exchanged a few words, but they were both busy. Deliberately she made herself stop moaning and get on with her work.

She dried her hands on her apron as she looked for Froma to find out what to do next. He smiled as he saw her.
“Overwhelmed?” he asked kindly. Theora began to nod, then stopped herself.
“I’ll be fine” she said determinedly. “What shall I do now?”
“I’ll show you” Froma answered, then led the way to a little table in the corner of the kitchen. On it was a cup, a plate of bread and cold meat, and a number of chickens.
“First” he began, holding up one thick finger “you eat. Second, pluck these chickens. Third, you take a break- stay here if you want, or visit the market. This afternoon you can get on with the washing. Will that do?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye. Theora smiled back gratefully.

[ July 16, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]

VanimaEdhel

07-16-2003, 02:56 PM

Finally Castar saw Windheneb approach his table from his cart a little way down. Castar looked at his own table, which was growing increasingly emptier as the day went on, as Castar had hoped. When customers were not visiting the stand, Castar had taken to people-watching. Most of the people he had watched had been the ladies that had passed by Winde's cart, admiring both the young man's wares and appearance. Winde himself seemed to be admiring comely girls of every age. From some pretty sixteen-year old girls that had come to admire the dresses he made to a woman clearly over forty, who was still pretty in her middle age, Winde had given attention to nearly any girl that passed. The women didn't seem to mind either, Castar noted. All of them had smiled and most had even come over to either buy from the outgoing young man or to return the attention. As Castar marvelled at Winde's ability with women, the handsome flirt arrived at the table.

"Do you want to meet one of my sisters?" Winde asked, not bothering with a formal greeting. Without waiting for an answer, he started heading back towards his stand.

Soon a pretty woman not much older than Winde came heading over to the table. She looked like a feminine version of Windheneb, her long, dark, straight hair spilling loose over her back. Her piercing grey eyes showed the same mischief in them that Windheneb had. With a small tinge of regret, Castar remembered that Winde had said that both of his sisters were married.

With a start, Castar remembered that he was still standing there, and that he had not greeted her as a polite gentleman should.

"Greetings, m'Lady," Castar said to the beautiful sister, trying to remember all of the etiquette his parents had tried to no avail to teach him when he was younger. He awkwardly tried to bow, but a stray strand of hair that had escaped his ponytail got into his mouth, causing him to splutter and quickly rise again. He looked at the woman, a small blush on his face.

The woman, he could tell, was trying not to laugh, but was failing miserably. Castar looked to Winde for help, but Winde had backed off a bit in the hopes, it seemed, that Castar would not see that he was nearly to the point of collapsing at Castar's attempt at civility. Castar sighed and looked around helplessly.

"I-I'm sorry," the woman said, trying to control her giggles. She took a breath and quieted herself, a smile reappearing on her lips every now and again as she slipped into and out of control of her laughter. "I am Zîra. I hope my brother has not troubled you too much."

Zîra, as she introduced herself, took Castar's hand in a hard shake. Castar looked at his hand when it came away and massaged the throbbing pain that was now in it.

"N-no, not at all," Castar stammered quietly, still blushing slightly and a bit overwhelmed by the woman's handshake. Not able to think of anything more suave to say, Castar settled for the lame question, "So, you're Winde's brother?"

"Sadly, yes," Winde piped up, coming back, still wheezing a bit from his laughter. "I am sorry, friend. I just have not heard anyone call Zîra 'm'Lady' since...well, I do not think I have heard anyone say that." He continued, feigning sincerity, "And that was a beautiful, graceful bow you have there, friend. You may consider taking up dancing instead of all that womanly pottery."

"This from a man that makes clothing," Zîra said, voicing Castar's thoughts. Castar snorted accidentally at the comment, causing Winde to look at him. Castar quickly set a serious look on his face.

"I shall be heading back to our unattended stand now," Zîra said, "I wonder if anything will be left or has it all been stolen? Oh wait, I forgot, Winny made the clothing: it'll all still be there. Oh, I did not catch your name. I tend to like to know all of Winny's handsome friends."

"I am Caster," Castar said quickly, "I mean, my real name is Luthur, but everyone calls me Castar."

"Okay then, Luthur," Zîra said, smiling a bit, "I will see you around, yes?"

Castar thought he grunted a reply, but he was not sure. Zîra moved back to the clothing cart, leaving Windheneb and Castar standing at the pottery table.

"I really hate when she calls me Winny," Winde said, scowling a bit after her, "She always does it in front of my friends too."

Castar smiled after her, "You said she was married."

"Yes, with kids, friend, so do not get any ideas," Winde said, "So, how shall we spend the afternoon?"

"I think I would like to wander the market, if it is find with you," Castar said.

"That sounds beautiful," Windheneb said. Castar packed up what was left of his pottery and moved it over near Castar's cart, leaving the table to save his spot for when he returned. He took the Elvish cloth and kept it with them, in case they should meet a stray Elf on their travel through the market.

The two bought some food from the giggly girls that had been looking at Windheneb when he first met Castar. Then they proceeded to wander around the market, each stopping occasionally to buy family presents.

Aylwen Dreamsong

07-17-2003, 03:25 PM

The White Horse would have a quiet Farmers Market day, seeing as how most folk were at the busy market. Aylwen felt a tad bad to leave Bêthberry alone at the Inn with only Froma and a few maids for company, but at the same time Aylwen was so glad and excited to have the chance to explore the market. It was new to her and something different to see, for she had rarely gotten the chance to visit the market in Minas Tirith, where she was from. Aylwen had originally planned on going to the market with Talan and Iswyn, but they appeared to have everything ready to be taken care of.

The first stall Aylwen stopped at was a glass blowing stall. Several people stopped as well when they passed by the stall, looking not only at the vases and ornaments already made, but also at the man that was having a demonstration. Aylwen watched, entranced, as the man blew the glass through a large reed-looking pole and watched him add glass powder to the mix. She watched him shape the molten ingredients into a lovely blue-green perfume bottle. Then she moved on, continuing to explore the stalls.

On a few occassions Aylwen thought she saw Talan or Iswyn, but the image was gone in a flash as people moved about the market busily. Aylwen passed by stalls selling mugs and goblets, jewelry and pottery, honey and beeswax products, and much more. Her second full stop was at a stall selling musical instruments from around Middle-Earth. There was even a little section full of panpipes! Aylwen had her own seven-piped set in her wasit pouch, but she picked up several sets of panpipes at the stall. One was two-rowed and tuned lower than usual. Another tenor set of panpipes had twenty-three pipes, and to be played correctly had to be played in a zig-zagged style from top row to bottom row. It was all so interesting, but Aylwen still preferred the panpipes her mother had made for her so long ago.

Aylwen watched one or two children get their faces painted one stall over from the instrument stall, quite intrigued with the accuracy and the designs chosen by the children. There were dragons and intricate leaves and symbols painted onto the small chubby children faces. The painter must've known some form of elvish to some extent, for several children walked away giddily with what looked like elvish on their cheeks.

Aylwen continued until she stopped at a jewelry shop, eyeing the items in turn as they caught her eye. One in particular looked interesting and beautiful to Aylwen; a small bracelet of weaved bronze with a thistle head at either end and a small opening to make it easier to put on. It was lovely and wonderfully made, and the stallkeeper noticed Aylwen's interest and went over to speak with the black-haired young woman at the front of her stall.

"It was made by my son," the woman who owned the stall intoned proudly, gently taking the bracelet from Aylwen's hands. "The story behind it is quite simple. My oldest son is a soldier, and the border of Gondor has been ravaged by orcs and easterlings of late. One night, a raiding party of easterlings was preparing to invade the camp my son was in. However, they crossed a patch of thistles barefoot, and they began to let out their yelps of pain. This alerted the camp, and my son said they were able to fight them off."

"How very interesting...and it is quite beautiful." Aylwen commented, and the woman nodded. Aylwen thought it would make a perfect little gift for Bêthberry, for letting Aylwen come and help at the White Horse and welcoming her so kindly. Aylwen withdrew a few coins and traded with the stallwoman, and walked away as she put the bracelet carefully into her waist pouch.

Her attention was mostly on outting the bracelet away, and Aylwen bumped into two young men who were stationary in front of a shop selling quilts. Aylwen and the two men stumbled, and Aylwen turned around, immediately ready to apologize.

"Forgive me! I was not looking where I was going!" Aylwen blurted out, not even giving the two men a chance to dust themselves off. One of them chuckled, and the other looked at his laughing companion. The chuckling one was dark-haired and had stormy grey eyes. His companion had lighter hair and did not look as confident or boisterous as his friend.

"That's quite alright, lady. At least no one fell to the ground, else they would have been trampled by the folk around here," the dark-haired man replied, his voice friendly and warm. "I am Windheneb, and this quiet man next to me is Castar. And you are...?"

"Aylwen," the young woman replied, her eyes slightly squinted. What an odd pair! Windheneb was quite confident and had an air that nearly sent him over the edge as arrogant or cocky. Castar seemed a tad more reserved, but friendly just the same. Edoras, although smaller than her old home of Minas Tirith, was a lot more thrilling and exciting than home.

Daniel Telcontar

07-19-2003, 10:59 AM

Talan walked around, enjoying the smell of food from many stalls. Since he and Iswyn had split up, he hadn't really concentrated on getting the shopping done. Every time he had set his mind on getting through the list, his concentration was stealed by the many artists performing.

He managed to get through the list, though, even the infamous pillowslips. He had a bit of trouble carrying all the things, including the pitchforks, and had he not been of such a size, a few venders with sore behinds might have picked a fight. The sight of his big fists removed any lust for fight, though.

Talan continued his walk, not sure of what to do. He had all the things, but it was still to early to meet Iswyn. He then saw a small boy, who bumped into him. The boy apologised, and tried to run off into the crowd, had not a pitchfork caught his trousers.

"Give me back me money, lad, or I'll put this here pitchfork a bit higher, and not to your liking," he threatened. Chagrined, the boy gave him his purse, and then quickly removed himself, afraid of any further vengeance.

Talan thought if he should pursue the matter. The money was not his, and though it was just a few coins, it would not have been nice to tell Bethberry the truth. But he knew how it was like to be a pickpocket in that age, and since there had been no harm, no reason to waste more time on that. He made his way to Hamish, and waited for Iswyn to appear.

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

07-19-2003, 06:29 PM

Aleia entered the bustling market, and at once a thousand sights, smells and sounds hit her senses. She loved Farmer's Markets; they were the best place to buy trinkets and such. She browsed the stalls, completely oblivious of other customers' bargains, although she kept a hand on her money pouch. Aleia had been in enough markets to know that pickpockets struck in the simplest of ways; just being bumped into could lose you your money.

As Aleia moved over to a stall selling pottery, she felt someone stumble against her. She whirled around, keeping her hand on her pouch, just to see that it was only Talan.

"Hello, Aleia! Keeping a sharp eye on your money, I see," he greeted, adding, "I was already victimized this morning."

"My, they are out early!" Aleia exclaimed. "Did you get your money back?"

"Yes, luckily. I just know enough of the streets to know when I am being pickpocketed," answered Talan.

"Well, that's always a handy talent." Aleia said. He smiled and said, "Come browse with me, Aleia. I have some things to pick up, and you may see something you like. I am meeting Iswyn soon as well." Aleia hesitated only a moment before obliging. She might find that she needed some items too.

[ July 20, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

Sophia the Thunder Mistress

07-19-2003, 08:55 PM

Iswyn spun at the sound of the voice behind her, her plaited hair whipping against her cheeks at the sudden movement. Seeing Deol standing there, tentatively holding out his bunch of flowers, pinkened her cheeks a little, but catching on to the fun she bobbed her head mischievously. "Good day, kind sir." She took the flowers from him shyly, careful not to touch his fingers.

Giggling slightly at his cheeky wink, the two turned away from the play and began to walk back in the direction of the spice stall Iswyn had visited earlier. She snuck sidelong glances up at Deol's face as they walked. She'd seen him around of course, but there had never been much time for more than a bit of fun in passing. He was tall and rather lanky, but not bad looking all the same, and Iswyn had always appreciated his smiles and small jokes. They walked for a bit, without talking, before Iswyn suddenly remembered her errand.

"I have to do a bit of shopping," she said apologetically, "for Mistress Bethberry." She looked at him more fully than she had before, but he was smiling.

"I could come along, if you like," he said, somewhat hesitantly. "Maybe carry things?" Iswyn's face turned even pinker than before, and she inwardly cursed herself as she felt her cheeks grow hot. Grinning in spite of her embarrassment she nodded. The two wound their way between the stalls and vendors, Iswyn privately grateful that her shopping gave her something to be businesslike about, as she barely dared open her mouth. Deol, for his part, steered her far away from Aldhelm's booth and accepted each parcel she handed him with a smile.

After the spice booth, where Iswyn carefully measured handfuls of cloves, cinnamon and cardamon pods into tiny cloth bags, there was the farmstand where they shopped for cheeses. Last there was a small sweet scented stall, Iswyn loved the tea-merchant's best. The sharp smelling leaves in their array of wooden boxes fascinated her. Today she was after simple teas, but the exotic ones were the most intriguing. She held up a little box for Deol to smell, tea with mint and some purple berry, sweet and fresh smelling.

After the dark inside of the tea merchant's booth, the daylight stung Iswyn's eyes and she blinked hard, after the strong smells the air felt empty. Her shopping finished, Iswyn and Deol wandered the market aimlessly, stopping to look at the blown glass and watch the dancers who skipped playfully to the music of a lone fiddler. Passing a stand she'd seen earlier, Iswyn hesitated. The colored silks and ribbons fluttered in the light breeze, their brightness calling out to her. She chewed her lip absently as she wavered, then snatched two skeins of ribbon from the stand.

Holding up the two skeins, one a bright green and the other a periwinkle blue. "Which would suit me better?" she asked Deol, a mischeivous grin on her face. Color flooded his cheeks again as he looked back and forth from the ribbons to Iswyn.

After a short deliberation he pointed to the skein in her right hand. "That one." Iswyn smiled, as she carefully replaced the blue ribbon on the rack and handed the green to the woman in the stall. She'd rather fancied the green herself. She watched carefully as the woman cut a short length of ribbon from the spool, cutting at a diagonal so that the thread wouldn't unravel. Carefully Iswyn counted out a few coins and paid for her prize. As they left the booth she carefully tied the green ribbon around the stems of her bouquet. Iswyn smiled to herself, she didn't know if she had ever felt more grown up.

Bêthberry

07-20-2003, 09:36 PM

Market bustle was at its height. People were thronging the stalls and the square in active pursuit of trade and friendly chat. Animals squawked and donkeys brayed. Children hooted. From somewhere came a crash and then a tumble of wooden crates. The sky was filled with a brace of fluttering wings as ducks escaped, followed by a yell and a curse, which sped them faster away. Above this buzzing hum of voices could be heard the grating whine of Laevin's whetstone as he sharpened scissors and knives, axes and farm implements.

Into this din of commerce and play limped a rather bony, stooped figure lugging a small cart. The cart held myriad things: dilapidated objects, unused or no longer wanted items, broken goods--all things for which the people of Edoras could no longer imagine a use or need. The stooped figure was Ruthven, Edoras' junk lady, who single-handedly was responsible for much of the current trade in second hand items and found goods in Edoras. It was her particular skill that she had such a clever, inventive imagination. Many in Edoras shunned her for her lowly trade but few could resist her manner of finding new ways with old things. There were more than a few households which had bought from her the same item twice over, after having previously discarded it. It was a joke she never shared with anyone, but savoured it herself.

A beggar Ruthven first appeared but then appearances could be deceiving. Her clothes were indeed old, worn, frayed, but they were clean and even properly mended. Her thin grey hair had been plaited round her head that morning even if stray whisps and strands were now escaping the braided coils. It was true that she squinted with one eye but perhaps that was to occlude the sun's bright rays.

"Rags! Bottles! Oldenwares!" she cried, not trying to raise her voice above the din but directing it towards likely groups of people who then clustered around her cart at this sign of personal appeal. Thus it was that a scurrying little figure, trying to dodge between tall figures, plowed right into the two-wheeled cart, which, tipping over, spilled its contents out on top of him.

Pots clattered. Glasses clinked. Children's wooden blocks and rag dolls tumbled out. A salvaged bolt of blue cloth unrolled over the little fellow as he struggled to throw off a night shirt and frilly chemise which had fallen over his head.

"Eeeek," shreaked Madi, sniffing the musky red odour of the night shirt as he continued his efforts to disentangle himself. The crowd around the cart laughed and then moved on. Madi was at least grateful his face had remained hidden.

"Mind my goods there, you scamp," grumbled Ruthven. "It's bad enough you've lost me customers without ruining my goods into the bargain." She hastily shuffled over to rescue the blue fabric from being tromped on and carefully rewound the bolt. "This is my special find from Annawen's rejects."

The scent of the blue material stirred something in Madi's memory, but he could not say exactly what. Then he remembered and began to cry excitably.

"Berry's colour! Berry's colour! It's gone!" Madi had dropped the amber stone when the cart toppled over on him. He dove to the ground, pawing the packed earth for it, sniffing desperately and even tasting stones in hopes of retrieving the amber.

"No, no, no. No. No. This is not good. Berry won't be happy. Madi won't get some nice." A forelorn grimace spread over Madi's face, although few could tell, for his hood still covered much of his head.

"You're daft, you are," pronounced Ruthven. "Come on now, help me for all the trouble you've given me. I've got to take these toys to the White Horse where the Innkeeper wants some things for the children who play there."

"For Berry, for the Landlady? Toys for Berry?" Madi asked. "Madi will help. Maybe this will be good," Madi moaned.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was a comic sight to many, the stooped old woman and the small figure pulling the cart with the jerky motions of their unmatched gaits. Still, they finally reached The White Horse and Madi found himself knocking once again at the place he had decided was good. This time Madi was not so sure.

"Bethberry, I've got some exchanges for you," called out the junk lady. Madi bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling as the Innkeeper appeared at the door, looking as sleepy as she had the first time Madi had seen her.

"I'll take those pillow slips you promised in exchange for the toys," said Ruthven.

Bethberry nodded agreement as she walked around the cart to examine the toys. With surprise, she nearly stumbled over Madi, who had crouched down beside one wheel.

"Ruthven, is this another of your reclamation projects?" she asked smilingly.

"He cost me many customers at Market, so he's paying me back in help with pulling the cart."

"Madi, you do get around," exclaimed the Innkeeper, tickling him under the chin. "And what of your simple chore for me?" Just then she noticed the bolt of fabric in the cart.

"Well, this isn't the nicest looking bolt of blue satin I've ever seen, but it will do," she said to Madi, who finally recalled what the blue had reminded him of.

Ruthven was about to offer a price for the fabric but Madi began pulling secretively at her sleeve.

"Madi will help more," he spoke up, looking brightly into her face, "for Berry's gift." His lips were pursed as tightly together as his protruding teeth would allow, his wide eyes holding a keen, pleading, desperate look.

Bethberry, gathering the building blocks and dolls into her arms with the blue satin, noticed this exchange merely in passing.

"Well, Madi, you'll have to decide just how many of us you can handle. You might think I'm a soft touch but Ruthven here drives a shrewd bargain," she laughed.

"Soft touch," snorted Ruthven, "you've the canniest way of dealing with people, Innkeeper. There's iron beneath that soft touch."

Bethberry chuckled in reply and then turned to enter the Inn.

"You both look hot after the long walk you've had to bring this here. Come in for some iced tea or lemonade."

"You owe me, little man," whispered Ruthven to Madi as she followed Bethberry into the Horse. Madi frowned and pursed his lips as he stared after the two women. How would Madi get some nice now? he thought, as he trundled in after them.

The X Phial

07-20-2003, 11:03 PM

Deol felt that all was right with the world. He had enjoyed carrying Iswyn's packages and laughing with her as they explored the stalls. It was like a happy dream. No cares and a pretty girl at his side who blushed and chattered and never made him think about the future or stared at him with solemn assessing eyes. A look at the sky, however, brought him sharply to the realisation that he had only a few minutes left before he was expected back at Aldhelm's stall. He turned to Iswyn, sadly.

"I wish I could stay and help you take these things back to the inn, Iswyn, but Aldhelm is expecting me in a few minutes and I still have to think up something to tell him about my 'mission.'"

"What mission," the girl asked, pouting only slightly and not looking thrilled about carrying all the packages back to the inn.

"Something about identifying 20 new customers, I don't know. I'll think of something." He pulled a face and Iswyn laughed.

He went to a nearby stall and with his own money bought a large basket for Iswyn's purchases.

"It's not as good as someone else carrying it, but it will at least make it easier for you to get around," he said, and they shared a smile.

He left Iswyn by the square where they had met up and dashed through the market to the miller's stall. He arrived, panting and out of breath and gasped an apology for his lateness, not noticing that Aldhelm was busy with a customer. By the time the miller turned to acknowledge his apprentice he was breathing normally again.

"So," the older man asked jovially, "how went your exploring?"

"Well, I suppose. I saw a lot of housewives, but I think most of them already get their flour from us."

Aldhelm nodded. "And what did you notice about customers, and potential customers?"

"Well," Deol hestitated, stalling for time. He hadn't noticed anything, of course, but he had to have some kind of answer. "I didn't notice anything in common, really," he finally admitted in defeat. To his shock, the miller's face beamed.

"Such a clever boy, I wish you were my son. Well, soon enough."

Deol's cheeks burned with pride and shame, simultaneously. How had he earned such praise?

Aldhelm, who could tell that the boy was puzzled, explained.

"Every customer and potential customer is different. They are all unique people and the key to being a good businessman is being able to see what they really want. Of course, they want flour, or sometimes honey, but they all want something more.

"Rylwyn, who you saw me just speaking to, wants reassurances that she is still beautiful, so she flirts a bit. I don't flirt back, of course, but I always find a way to compliment her looks in some way. Makes her look forward to coming to the market, to picking up her flour. Other people want to joke or just get their flour and leave. You, Deol, will have to learn to see what people really want."

He saw that the boy was still puzzled and decided to let him think on the idea a bit.

"Now, I have to take some calculations over to Laevin and do some shopping, and you have to watch the stall. No mission for the rest of the day, just treat the customers well as I know you always do."

With that the miller left his apprentice and strolled through the market himself. He waved to the other vendors and danced a bit to some of the music, garnering a laugh. Once he felt a bump and saw a small boy scamper away, shouting an apology. He picked up the few things needed back at the mill; soap, a few strips of fine linen for swaddling clothes, candles, and a fine bone comb for Lathyn as a present and reward. The girl had been working very hard of late.

He stopped by Laevin's on the way back to his stall, intending to drop off the measurements for the new axle. When he got there he realised the pouch he used for holding his writing supplies was missing and remembered the boy. He chuckled to himself. The little thief had missed the money and taken the small inkstone and parchments instead. He apologised to the blacksmith, who seemed just as amused, and promised to have the measurements to him soon.

"It's your timetable, Aldhelm, not mine," Laevin laughed.

Aldhelm picked up a new inkstone and pouch and headed back to the stall. He saw the Deol had sold all of the remaining honey and was chatting with a fuller's wife. The market day had gone well, by all accounts. He considered stopping by the White Horse on his way out of town for an ale and never considered for a moment that Deol might have his own motivations for wanting to stop there as well.

Kryssal

07-20-2003, 11:25 PM

Shrae looked at the monstrous market with a lot of apprehension. She hadn't been to a large city in several years and being in huge crowds like this didn't set well with her. Reen, on the other hand, was having a wonderful time; his little bald blond head kept turning from side to side watching people as they walked from one stand to another with his bright blue eyes.

Adjusting the cloth that was holding the little eight month old to her body so that her hands were free, Shrae grabbed up a small bundle of clothes and started twisting her way through the crowd. It would have been so much easier if Lowfel had simply met them at the house, but it was market day and he needed as much money as he could get, especially since Shrae and Reen were moving in and neither of them would be bringing in any money. Plus, Shrae gave an inward, slightly guilty shrug, he didn’t know that they had arrived yet. There were so many people in one place how was the small village girl supposed to find her brother in all of this? Shrae spotted a nice looking woman buying an interesting looking hat and walked up to her.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if you knew where the carpenter Lowfel sets up?"

The woman turned to her looking slightly miffed. Shrae knew her appearance wasn't the best. Her long light brown hair was flying out of the ribbon she had tied it with and her brown eyes were wearily drooping from traveling. Shrae wasn’t pretty by any means, more homely than anything, but she was kind and polite at least. The woman turned her nose up a bit and said in a stuffy tone, "I do not." Then she turned her back toward Shrae.

Shrae was stunned. She only came back to herself when a small boy bumped into her causing Reen to turn sharply, his head knocking the bottom of her chin. Turning slowly Shrae started to go on to the next stall when someone touched her arm. She jumped making Reen look up at her questioningly.

"I'm sorry," said a nice looking girl with a basket full of goods. "I overheard you asking that woman where the carpenter stand was."

"Oh," Shrae was at a lost for words, and her confusion was showing.

"It's a little further down on the right hand side. Do you see that horse, his stand is right beyond that. He makes the most wonderful boxes, I just got this for my mother," she held up a small, simple box with a thin lid. It was completely smooth with a deep color of brown.

"Did you know," Shrae spoke up, "that he also makes chairs, tables, chests and shelves. He can do anything with wood, it's all quite wonderful."

The girl raised her eyebrows. "I didn't. I thought that he only sold what he kept at the stall."

"Thank you for the help," Shrae smiled and nodded at the girl as they parted ways. Walking quickly she got to Lowfel's stand in a few minutes. He looked tired, but when he saw her he smiled and rushed to give her a hug, careful not to squish Reen between them.

"When did you get in, you weren't supposed to be here till next week." Lowfel's lean frame seemed to have gained a little stomach pouch since the last time Shrae had seen him.

"Well, your travelling friend showed up early so instead of making him sit in the village with all his wares for another week, we packed up the rest of my stuff and headed out. I noticed that the house isn't finished."

Lowfel ran his hand through his light brown hair making it shaggier than it had already appeared. "I had an order for a whole dining room set and since you weren't going to come so soon, I haven't been able to finish your room. Well, this must be Reen," Lowfel said as he made a squished face, causing the boy to scrunch his face up in a giggle.

“Yup, this is him. He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Shrae smiled, knowing that her brother had taken an instant liking to the baby.

Lowfel stood up straight and looked his sister in the eyes. “He’s lucky you’re taking care of him.”

Shrae smiled and reached up, playfully pinching the carpenter’s cheek. “And I’m lucky that you’re taking care of me.”

That brought a smile to his face, which soon turned somber again. “Right, now about living arrangements till I finish your room, I think that you should take over m-”

Before Lowfel could offer for her to take his room she interrupted, "Well, where is a good Inn that Reen and I could go for awhile? I've got some..oh, no..." Shrae had about to show her brother a little pouch that had some money in it, the pouch was no longer on her. "Well, I had some money. There's some more that I left at your house though, amid all of my stuff that I put in the front room." Shrae sat down roughly into her brother’s chair.

"You got picked? Shrae, you should know better than to leave your purse so open to thieves. Here, take this money and there's a couple of good Inn's around. There's the Oak Wood Inn and the White Horse Inn, oh, and there's another one called The Stag, but it's more expensive and I don't think I could manage that." He smiled down at her and helped her up out of the chair. “Come on now, it’s not that bad.”

Shrae could tell that Lowfel was putting up an act of nonchalance about the money. A huge sense of weight had seemed to drop on her when she realized that she had made a mistake and lost the coins. If Reen hadn't been strapped on her side she would have sat back down, leaned over and put her head in her hands. Instead she compromised by rubbing Reen's head and kissing it. Sighing, she took Lowfel's money and put it under the baby where it wouldn't fall out and no one could easily snatch it.

"I'm sorry," she gave her older brother a big hug. "I know you taking me and -"

"No, I want you here. Go and find a room for the night and come to the house tomorrow sometime. Then we can start you on crafting lines into some of the completed works I have lying around." Lowfel gave her a big smile and put a hand on her back, leading her back into the main bustle of the market goers.

Shrae smiled back at him then started avoiding hitting people as she walked with her little bundle of clothes and Reen, who was starting to get figity. A poof of dust hit her nose as she finally made it out of the market street causing her to sneeze violently; Reen decided he had put up with enough and started making disgruntled noises that would soon turn into a steady wailing if she didn't do something to sooth him soon. Making soft, cooing noises she hurried down the street and almost passed an Inn before realizing it. Looking up at the sign she saw that it was one that Lowfel had mentioned. The White Horse Inn looked like a fine place to stay, but Shrae was worried about the price. Reens whine caused her to go in and at least get him some food, even if she couldn't stay the night.

Going through the door there were some customers around the room, but no one there to greet new comers at the moment. Glancing around she tried to spot a worker but Reen soon took all her attention when he gave a mighty squeal and she quickly took him out and placed him on the floor. Having a new setting took him by surprise. Shrae figured that she now had at least a couple of minutes before he started to whine again. Scooping up the money that was still in the cloth that had been holding Reen, she looked up and saw an Inn worker coming straight toward her with a smile.

[ July 27, 2003: Message edited by: Kryssal ]

Sophia the Thunder Mistress

07-21-2003, 02:19 AM

Iswyn watched Deol walk away, sighing slightly. The morning had been so much fun, an opportunity she didn't get often enough. And Deol, well... he was very nice. Gently placing her small bouquet of flowers in the basket on top of her purchases, Iswyn set off slowly back toward Hamish's shop. The look on Deol's face and the speed with which he left told Iswyn that it was long after the time that she had agreed to meet Talan. She vaguely hoped he'd waited and pushed her steps a little quicker, pulling the basket in toward her chest.

Ducking between the small shops, carts, and booths, Iswyn took the shortest path through the market, realizing that in her lighthearted wanderings with Deol that she'd been walking away from her meeting place. Talan she wasn't worried about, only she had hoped that he would carry the basket, as her arms ached from its weight; but her real concern was Bethberry, that the inkeeper might be disappointed with her. The girl bit her lip, walked even a little faster, her skirts catching around her ankles and threatening to trip her.

A voice brought her out of her purposeful silence. A male voice, slurred with drink. Iswyn froze in her tracks for a moment as she felt fingers close around her wrist. "Whazza pretty girl like you doin' all alone at market?" The man was dirty, greasy grey hair falling across his face, and the hand that gripped her wrist was dry and strong, smudged with dirt. Iswyn tugged at it, but didn't break his hold.

"I'm meeting someone, friends, I'm in a hurry..." she protested, beginning to panic a little. He pulled her closer, until Iswyn could smell the stale beer on his breath and in his clothes. She dropped the basket she was still clinging to, and watched as the contents tumbled out on the ground, the little bag of cloves spilled into the dust. Bethberry's spices...

"I'm not gonna hurt you!" The man continued, in an exaggerated hurt tone. "I only wanned to make sure you was alright." Iswyn pulled back harder, blinking back tears. If he wanted her to be all right, why wouldn't he let go of her hand? "Come sit on my lap, sweetie, like my little girl used to, and then we'll go find your friends."

[ July 21, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]

Taralphiel

07-21-2003, 03:01 AM

Lachlan looked at the list with a frown. All his deliveries had been made, and now it was time to pick up some things from the markets. Stumbling through the small spaces, and in and out of small stalls. Cursing lightly, he scanned the list. 'Ive never been good at finding these places. At this rate Ill be here till it closes!'

He was staring at the list when something hit his foot. Looking down he saw a small basket, that had scattered spices where it fell. Looking forward he saw a small girl being roughly handled by a stumbling drunkard. Narrowing his eyes, he tucked his list away and picked up the basket.

Strolling over he smiled and said 'I think you may have dropped this Milady' The girl turned to him pleadingly, and he nodded at her. Taking the drunks wrist, he shrugged his grip off the girl, and she stumbled backwards. The man made an attempt at a snarl and mumbled 'Mind yer own business boy, or I'll show you...'

'Show me what, old man' Lachlan said with slight irritation in his voice. 'You can barely stand, let alone put up enough of a fight. Let the lady be, and I'll think of doing the same to you' He seemed not to understand him, and tried to push his way through. Lachlan shoved at his shoulder, and he moved back. 'Save your strength boozer, youre out leagued in your state' He threw the man a spare coin, and walked out of the alley.

The girl was kneeling on the ground, trying to pick up the stray spice sachets she had dropped, but her shoulders were shaking heavily. Kneeling down, Lachlan placed her hand on her shoulder and said 'I hope he didnt rough you up miss. Allow me to give you some help' He took the last of the half open packets and put it back in her basket. He helped her up and said 'My name is Lachlan, and theres no need for tears miss. He wont bother you now'....

Mathom Collector

07-21-2003, 01:42 PM

Barthaew rubbed his head vaguely with one hand, keeping a sound grip on the reins of the cart with his other. There was three months worth of stockplied merchandise--mugs, plates, vases, all manner of pottery--that he'd made for sale, he didn't intend to so much as chip even a bit of it.

Barthaew pulled back on the reins, easing the horses to a stop at the spot where he usually arrayed his wares. Tipping his hat to a woman arranging bushels of healthy-looking vegetables in her space, Barthaew turned and gingerly lifted the first sack out of the back of the cart.

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

Barthaew tipped his hood over his eyes to keep the sun out, fighting the urge to dose. The market had barely opened, he'd had barely a browser yet. If he was tired now, he'd never last all day. It probably wasn't wise to have stayed out so long for the party last night, but it had been such a rare occasion, he couldn't resist it.

Turning his shoulderblades inward against the front of the building he was selling in front of, Barthaew lifted his hood again and looked about at the ever-growing crowd.

VanimaEdhel

07-21-2003, 05:44 PM

Castar looked at Windheneb as his friend jabbered at their new companion. Aylwen had told them that she could remain in the Farmer's Market for some time, so Windheneb had taken the initiative and had told her that she was to travel with them around the market, as there were "dangerous, shady characters afoot in the market". Castar had been unable to control another snort after Windheneb's comment and had gotten a rather dark look from his friend for his amusement.

They passed a jewelry stand and Castar paused, looking at the necklaces and thinking of his mother. He quickly bought one from the stand, running to try to catch up to the others.

"And where are you from? Were you born here?" Aylwen was asking Windheneb.

"Aye, been here all my life. I have two sisters, you know. They have families here too," Windheneb was saying.

"And you, Master Castar. Where are you from?" Aylwen asked.

"I am from Eodrath," Castar said. He continued after a pause, "It is about twenty-five or thirty miles from here."

Aylwen nodded and smiled at Castar, who smiled back, brushing his stray wisp of hair out of his face.

"And do you have siblings?" Aylwen asked.

"Nay, M'Lady," Castar said, "I am the only child of my family. My father's health is failing and my mother takes care of him, may Eru bless her heart."

"Oh," Aylwen said kindly, "I hope that your father gains his strength again."

Castar chuckled, "Old Battir will be up again in no time, knowing him."

Windheneb then launched into some sort of conversation with Aylwen and Castar tuned out a bit for a while. Eventually they stopped for a snack and Windheneb made a show of treating everyone to the fruit they picked up. They had come back around to the giggling girls that seemed to have developed an infatuation with Windheneb now. They giggled and grew red when he spoke to them. Windheneb merely smiled more broadly and flirted more openly with the swooning ladies.

Castar tried to make conversation shyly with Aylwen while Windheneb spoke to the ladies, all three eating their fruit and enjoying the afternoon.

Aylwen Dreamsong

07-22-2003, 02:59 PM

Aylwen took a bite of her fruit tentatively, for she wasn't entirely sure what it was. The sun was shining just above the market, and the sky was blue with few clouds in sight. Windheneb had taken to chatting with a few rather giddy or childish women, so Aylwen was left with only Castar and uncomfortable silence as he ate his fruit.

"Have you known Windheneb long? You don't seem anything alike," Aylwen commented, not sure what else to say. But it was true, Windheneb and Castar were quite different.

"Not long. In fact, I just met him and his sister earlier today. He sells clothing," Castar added, shrugging. Aylwen lifted a brow, and Castar shrugged again. "Are you from around here, Miss Aylwen?"

"No, I just arrived recently. I am from Minas Tirith, but my good friend Bethberry invited me to help her as Assisstant Innkeeper in the White Horse. And here I am!" said Aylwen cheerfully, extending her arms as a gesture towards the market and Edoras.

"I'm staying at the White Horse tonight! And you're the Assistant Innkeeper? And here I am selling pottery," said Castar, smiling. His friend Windheneb had no trouble making the flirtatious girls giggle behind the two, and Windheneb showed no signs of wanting to stop his conversation.

"Winny likes to talk a lot," Castar explained to Aylwen, who had turned to see Windheneb's back after a particularly loud bout of laughter. "To women, at least."

"Winny?" Aylwen reiterated skeptically, grinning. Then she noticed something protruding from Castar's pack. It was some sort of cloth. Aylwen eyed the cloth, then looked to Castar. "May I?"

Castar nodded, and handed her the cloth. There was something writted in old Quenya along the hem, and there was an intricate, delicate pattern along the front. Aylwen squinted her eyes at the Quenyan, then neatly folded the cloth back up and handed it back to Castar.

"What does it say?" Aylwen asked, referring to the Elvish written on the cloth.

"I am not cure, I do not speak Elvish...or read it, for that matter," Castar replied sullenly, shrugging. "I thought Windheneb might, since after all, his name is Elvish. But he doesn't! I carry it around the market a lot in case I see a stray elf that might be able to translate for me."

"Bethberry might be able to. She knows a lot of things I don't and probably never will. Then again, I'm not sure either," said Aylwen, remembering the face painter in the market. "I saw a person painting designs on children's faces earlier, and he painted something in Elvish on more than one occasion. At least I think it is Elvish. Then again, you can never tell anymore who knows what language and who doesn't know which language and whatnot."

Aylwen grinned, realizing she had taken to rambling again. She was so much better and singing her tavern songs than she was at making conversations with strangers. "Forgive me, but Castar is a rather strange name. Where is it from?"

*Varda*

07-22-2003, 05:14 PM

The sun was high in the sky as Iona finished browsing the stalls, her small basket now full to the brim with various items of food, her red skirt folded over it all. As she left the last of the stalls behind her, her eye was caught by a small man leaning against the wall, seemingly crippled, his foot twisted in a grotesque fashion. His face was lined with weariness, his eyes half closed.

In front of him, laid out neatly, was an assortment of wooden toys. Kneeling down beside the man, Iona picked one up, examining it closely. She held a small wooden whistle in her hand, and turning it over, feeling it with her fingers, she could both feel and see that it was beautiful and exquisitely carved. Pulling a coin from her basket, she held it out to the man. It could come in useful as a present for a friend’s young son back home – until then, she would keep it safe.

The man made no movement, his eyes watching her impassively. Iona took hold of his hand, pressing the coin into it, before slipping the whistle into her basket, and standing up.

“You have a gift,” she said to him. “These toys are beautifully made.” She smiled warmly at him, before walking on. Looking up at the sky, and feeling the midday sun, she gasped.

“Heavens! Where on earth has the time gone? Froma will slaughter me!” she exclaimed with sudden realisation, before bolting back to the Inn in time to serve lunch to those taking a break from their stalls.

VanimaEdhel

07-23-2003, 02:59 PM

Castar blushed and smiled, "Actually, my real name is Luthur, but I did not think it fitting. I merely named myself after our own Westron coin, the Castar. Luthur, of course, is Westron for 'fluff', hardly a fitting name. Although, sometimes I think of going back to that name..."

Castar realized that he was just talking without any clue as to where he was going with his speech. He quickly trailed off, a bit too quickly, causing Aylwen to look up at him.

"I am sorry," he said, "I talk too much. And do not tell Winny that is what I call him. He hates that nickname." Castar smiled then, "Although maybe you should tell him." He chuckled a bit.

"No, you do not talk too much," Aylwen said to Castar, causing him to smile and blush even more, almost choking on the last of his fruit. Castar looked at Windheneb, who was still chatting with the young ladies. It was about time to go, Castar thought. He wanted to find the booth with the facepainting in the hopes that the patron of the booth would be able to decipher his tablecloth.

"Henny!" Castar said, tapping Windheneb on the shoulder. Windheneb turned, a glint of frustration at the nickname in his eye. Castar continued, "Henny, Winny, ol' pal, I was thinking that it was time to get a move on. We still have a lot of Market to see and only a limited time in which to see it all. I will not be back for another two months, most likely, and I want to buy as much as I will need."

"Erm...all right," Windheneb said, casting the girls a wistful gaze. He turned back to them and morosely said his good-byes to them. He turned back to Aylwen and Castar then, the old glint back in his eye.

"Let us go over there!" Windheneb said, pointing across the market a bit, "I think I saw some girls looking at me. Maybe we can get some free things over there. They gave me a bit of a discount at this fruit stand, after all," Windheneb pointed to the girls at the stand they had just eaten at as they headed off across the market. The girls were whispering and looking at Windheneb, giggling every now and again. Castar rolled his eyes at Aylwen, then, realizing what he had just done, blushed and looked away again.

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

OOC: I leave tomorrow for four weeks away, so I can't do much with my characters, sadly. I already told the gamers in my other games that I wouldn't be in here. For the four weeks, if anyone decides to take Windheneb, they can also use Castar if they want.

[ July 23, 2003: Message edited by: VanimaEdhel ]

Thenamir

07-24-2003, 01:39 PM

Laevin watched Windheneb and Castar working the pretty ladies of the market from the seat at his whetstone wheel. "My old dad used to say that youth is wasted on the young, and now I think he was right," he thought to himself as he worked over the edge of a customer's butcher knife. Laevin had never felt, or perhaps had never allowed himself to feel, the longing for some one special person. He'd lived his youth much as Windheneb was doing now -- flirting, teasing, but never committing. He'd never acted dishonorably in a relationship, but neither had he pursued one.

The more he thought about it, the more he began to feel a twinge of regret that he had no one with whom to share the days and seasons of his existence. He turned his mind back to his workwheel, but still he struggled to put a name to the feeling that was creeping up on him like a cold shadow.

"Loneliness." The word broke into his mind like midnight lightning. "Bah," he thought to himself. "I've got almost everyone in this town for a friend. Anytime I want I can stroll down to the White Horse and be amongst the finest and most friendly people in Edoras!"

The other half of him answered in turn, "But how many of them really know you, Laevin? How close are they, in truth?"

To that the more cavalier side of Laevin did not have an answer save a further question, "Are you so daft as to think I could go courtin' at my age? Why, I'm 40 years old! And how could I support a bride? And maybe children? And how could I bring them to this tumbledown shanty I call a home?"

Laevin nearly sliced open a thumb when the lonely-half answered, "Love conquers all." After he took a moment to compose himself, he mused half-aloud to himself, "Love! Of all the tomfool notions...why there's probably not a woman in the whole of Rohan who could endure me for over a week except..." and there he stopped dead. For if he allowed himself to name that name, it would mean that there really was someone who he cared about, that might care for him in return. It would mean the end of the existence he'd enjoyed for all his adult life. It would mean a sea change in his predictable, comfortable life. It would mean having to go through the awkward and potentially embarassing folderol of trying to tell that person how he felt.

"It would mean the end of loneliness, Laevin," the romantic half whispered quickly to his unsettled mind.

"NO!" he shouted aloud, standing abruptly from his chair and deliberately slamming the knife into the wooden table with his powerful blacksmith's arms, sinking the blade two inches deep into the wood. It startled a couple of customers who were picking over what was left of his wares towards the end of a market day. Leaving the knife stuck in the table he brushed the remaining filaments of his train of thought from his mind by changing his countenance and amiably asking the customers what they were looking for...

Annunfuiniel

07-24-2003, 03:06 PM

Aiyana strove through the crowd that had gathered round two street performers. The players’ theatrical voices shouted over the rumpus of the audience and their extravagant gestures perfected the ridiculous scene.

“Ai and alas! My King!” The first one screamed in mock lamentation.

“Whats… ish’it, my… counshellor?” The not-so-sober “King” stuttered and hiccupped.

“Ah, the greatest woe: the horses are gone! Lost! Missing! From the mightiest stallions to the tiniest ponies – nowhere to be found, not a horseshoe is left of them!”

“By Mearas’ muck! No-one takesh me hacks!” the King exclaimed and hopped to his Counsellors back as if mounting his steed. “Let ush gallop after ‘em!” But suddenly the King burped loudly. The audience knew their part in this spectacle and many whinnies rang in the air.

“My King! They heard your call!”…

The crowd broke to laughter and cheers. But Aiyana didn’t heed to the merriments. Absentmindedly she plodded forward - and got many a bruise and scratch while bumping into hurrying towners with full baskets or small wooden cages which they used as their shields. Before she was even halfway through the market place her sky-blue dress had turned to the color of sad grey and the satin ribbon on her left sleeve had been torn off.

Yet only after she heard a vendor shouting from his stall “Skins! Pelts! Tanned leather!” did the young woman raise her gaze from the dusty street. Her eyes were grey, dark and dimmed, but knowing the urgency of her business she sighed and made her way towards the stall whence the call came from. A cool breeze came from behind her and flew her dark blonde hair to her eyes.

Aiyana fingered the soft hides and for a fleeing moment her mind broke loose from the cheerless thoughts it brooded. This is perfect… she mused and lifted up a skilfully curried buckskin, smooth but sturdy.

“Good choice, young miss.” The stall-keeper smiled, revealing a ragged row of yellow teeth. “It’ll make the finest pair of shoes!”

Aiyana’s pearly smile lasted only a flash. “It isn’t for shoes, dear man.” she said and rolled up her left sleeve: three deep gashes crossed her slender arm. “I need a new glove.”

The man looked from Aiyana’s face to her arm and back to her face again. Aiyana hid another smile that tried to creep to her lips as she caught a glimpse of the old seller’s perplexed expression.

“You don’t say! A falconer, eh?” he finally managed to mumble while rolling the piece of leather Aiyana had chosen. The young woman, still somewhat amused, tried to concentrate on selecting another, finer skin for hoofs and jesses. Calf, that is best. she decided and handed the small pelt to the man.

“A falconer indeed!” Aiyana bestowed another smile and reached for her money pouch that hung on a braided string around her neck. “And I thank you for my own and my birds’ behalf” she continued placing two coins to the stall-keeper’s wrinkled hand and then took her leave. For a moment the old man stared after his curious customer. Then he shrugged his shoulders, muttering something about ‘wild creatures’ under his breath, and turned back to his work.

“Skins! Pelts!”

But Aiyana’s smile was gone and her heart again heavy – for the memory of the previous night was a raw wound in her mind and the future was a gaping black cleft towards which she was being pushed…

[ July 28, 2003: Message edited by: Annunfuiniel ]

Lyra Greenleaf

07-25-2003, 01:08 PM

The streets of Edoras thronged with people. Theora couldn't believe quite how many there were. She had thought it had been busy and noisy yesterday, but with the market on there were merchants, farmers, travellers, animals and lots of children all over the place. It was a completely different kind of noise from the farm, when the sounds had been mostly animal. She grinned. Squawking chickens were about the only things to compare.

It was strange being in a place that she didn't know, surrounded by people she didn't know. Dinner yesterday at the Inn had been similar, but she hadn't got used to the feeling yet. She wasn't feeling homesick though- in fact she was very excited.

From the corner of her eye she caught sight of a stall with brightly coloured vegetables. She didn't recognise most of them, they were certainly unlike what her father grew. The man behind the stall was different too, short and squat with dark skin and jet black hair. He glared at her, and she left, walking off through the crowd.

I wonder where he's from? she thought idly. Far away, that's for sure. Maybe the South where there are wild men.
She shivered- wild men had been her mother's threat. 'Be good or the wild men will take you.' Theora had never believed it, but it could be true. Perhaps they really did eat little girls? Maybe the man had come to Edoras pretending to sell vegetables but really to get new victims. Maybe-

"Hey!"
The outraged yell shook Theora from her daydream. She looked down and saw a number of large baskets scattered and rolling in the mud. An old, grey haired man was shaking his fist at her and going to pick one up. She realised she had knocked them over.

"I'm so sorry!" Theora gasped, running to help pick them up. Both reached for one basket, and banged their heads. Theora gasped again, then groaned as she saw the old man fall over to sit in the mud. A woman with a tray of ribbons and wool didn't see him and nearly tripped. Theora darted forwards to grip the side of her tray, to steady her, but in the process kicked mud at the basket seller.
Mama would kill me for this! she thought desperately as she tried to placate the old man.

Later, Theora returned to the White Horse Inn with a basket that she had bought out of guilt and lugged it up to her room. As she sat down on the bed she told herself that for the nest few weeks- at least- she would be a model maid, do everything that was asked of her, concentrate, and refuse offers of time off.
I'll be so efficient they'll hardly realise I'm here, she vowed grimly.

Mathom Collector

07-26-2003, 12:33 PM

"Thank you, sir," Barthaew smiled amiably as the old man nodded and turned away, a gingerly wrapped stack of new plates under his arm.

Placing the coins into the makeshift till his mostly-empty knapsack at his feet had become, he looked up, allowing his eyes to settle on the play actors in the middle of the street, as a strange, high cry, reminiscient of a bunch of cheerfully-braying foals erupted from the crowd around them.

"My lord!" he heard one of the players exclaim histrionically, soon interrupted by the pleased laughter of the crowd. Barthaew smiled, watching with interest until he saw a figure break away from the crowd; a girl in a faded dress, looking knocked-about and rather put out.

She was very pretty. Barthaew watched her with muted interest, as she seemed bent on a task. He watched her pick out several pelts from the vendor at the stall across from him. Having made the transaction, she turned around to continue walking, coming close to Barthaew's stall.

"Hello, M'lady," he said pleasantly as she came close enough to hear him. He hoped to catch her eye.

She looked up at him, slightly startled, seeming almost to question whether it was her he'd spoken to.

"Might I interest you in something?" he tried again, gesturing vaguely to the collection of mugs, goblets, plates, vases, and like clay creations before him. He didn't know if she was really interested in buying something, but he hoped she might stay for a moment at least.

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

07-26-2003, 07:05 PM

As Aleia stood with Talan, waiting for Iswyn to show up, a stall advertising differently sized woven pouches caught her eye. Moving over to it, she picked up a pouch and inspected it closely. Lovely! she thought. I need some of these for my things. Reaching for her money purse, she realized it was gone - and whirled about just in time to see a lad stuffing it into his pocket and fleeing. Aleia started after him, crying, "Thief! Thief! Catch that lad!"

The boy who had stolen her purse was a certain orphan named Anwir, who had grown up on the streets. Anwir's parents had died when he was young, leaving him alone to roam the streets of Edoras. He kept himself alive by pilfering food from shops and stealing money from civilians. Anwir was now fleeing from the outraged Aleia, heart pounding and breath short as he searched for a hiding place. He dodged behind a fruit stall and thought himself safe, as the shouts carried past his hideout and slowly died down. He dashed out from behind the stall and abruptly crashed into Talan, who was waiting there for him.

"In a hurry, lad?" Talan asked, smiling a little. Anwir was shaking like a leaf on a windy day and pale as snow. "P-please, sir," stuttered Anwir. "Don't hurt me, s-sir."

Talan felt a pang of pity for the poor boy, who was extremely thin and had dark rings under his eyes. "Just trying to get by, eh, lad?" he asked gently. Aleia trotted up, puffing, and said, "Boy! Could you kindly hand over my purse?" Anwir gulped and held out the money purse in a shaky hand. Aleia grasped it and clapped a hand on Anwir's shoulder. "Now, we shall take a little walk. Have you ever been to the White Horse, boy? No? I think you'll like it," Aleia said, guiding Anwir through the crowd. Turning to Talan, she said, "I'll take this boy to Bethberry and see what she says. Seems I won't be getting my shopping done now, anyway."

Talan nodded and turned back to the crowd to look for Iswyn. Aleia continued chatting to Anwir, who was obviously bewildered at this treatment. He expected anger and a horrid punishment. He was shaken out of his stupor by Aleia asking, "What's your name, before I forget to ask?"

"Anwir, miss lady," he replied, still a little wary.

"Please, boy! Call me Aleia. Now, I think you shall like the White Horse, and you shall like Bethberry the Innkeeper as well. She seems hard at first, but she's got a big soft spot." Aleia chattered on and on, and Anwir's head was spinning by the time they reached the Horse. They went in and Aleia called, "Bethberry? Are you here? I've got a visitor for you."

Bêthberry

07-26-2003, 09:28 PM

The three companions, Bêthberry, Ruthven, and Madi, had just settled down in small alcove off the great hall, when the sounds of a child's cranky whine had distracted the Innkeeper. She rose, leaving Ruthven and Madi to relax in the large wicker chairs, and returned to her desk by the entrance where a young woman was with some embarassment trying to settle the child.

"It must be passed naptime," said the Innkeeper to the young woman.

"It is. We've had a long journey in and a longer time stopping by my brother Lowfel's home. A bit to eat would be good but a room might be beyond my means," replied the woman.

"Lowfel's sister, you are then," exclaimed the Innkeeper. "Welcome Shrae. He had mentioned to me that your room wasn't yet ready in his house and he wondered if you could stay here. I've a small room on the second floor above the kitchen, so it's warm even without a fireplace and cheeper of course without the fire. It is a tiny room, with just a cot and a wee crib for the bairn. I'll call Iona or Delia to show it to you if you'd like."

"I'll trust your word, Bêthberry, for Lowfel said this would be a good choice. But lunch would be good now."

The Innkeeper nodded, and showed Shrae and the infant to the great hall. "We're short staffed today because of the Market, but Iona should be along shortly to serve you." Bêthberry placed a large pitcher of water on the table before Shrae, and a platter of shortbread cookies for munching on. Before she could return to Ruthven and Madi, however, a second commotion greeter her at the door.

Aleia arrived with a sorry looking, scared young man, who she thrust forward to face the Innkeeper.

"What's this?" the older woman asked.

"It's Anwir, an enterprising young man from the Market. He helped himself to my coin but Talan caught him. Rather than reporting him, I thought I'd bring him to you," replied Aleia.

"To me! Whatever for?"

"Please, Ma'am, don't report me," the boy stammered. His grey eyes were ringed dark from hunger and his bony body shook. "I'll do a real day's work for you, I promise."

"Am I an alms house now?" Bêthberry queried the boy and Aleia.

"I thought perhaps you could use an extra hand in the stables," said Aleia.

"Did you now," replied the Innkeeper. "And will you vouch for him? Cover any coin which might go missing for his industry?"

Aleia looked surprised at the offer. She hadn't expected to be asked to give surety for the boy. It had just been an impulse on her part, to think to help the boy. Yet she felt she couldn't back down.

It isn't likely there'll be coin lying around the stable, she thought to herself.

"I will, Bêthberry, as long as the Stable Master agrees to take him on."

"Run out then with Anwir and find him. If he agrees, and you accept the responsibility, Anwir can try his hand at stable boy."

With a slight feeling of concern, Aleia nodded yes and withdrew with Anwir to find the Stable Master.

Bêthberry stood there for some minutes, frowning in contemplation, and biting her lower lip with mixed feelings. Then she turned on her heel and returned to her tea and shortbread, looking forward to what story Ruthven had to tell about Madi's day at the Market.

Daniel Telcontar

07-27-2003, 11:34 AM

Talan sighed. This was the second thief he had caught. He wished the thieves had been grown men; then he would have an excuse to beat them, and make them sorry that they were thieves.

But little boys were different. They stole because they had no other way to survive. And Talan couldn't really be angry with them, since he himself had been like that once.

He had been lucky, and got himself a job, and a home. If those boys wanted to, perhaps the same could happen to them. The chances weren't great though; few people would hire a street urchin, with the bad reputation they had.

He looked around for Iswyn, feeling slightly irritated. Where was that girl? Probably lost in the wonders that the sellers could offer. A thought hit him; perhaps she was in trouble.

He wondered a bit what to do; if she was in trouble, he had to find her. But she could also just be late because she had lost track of time. He decided to wait a little more, before going out and search for her.

Idgian

07-27-2003, 01:28 PM

It was a trick Madi learnt during his time on the streets. He discovered it one hot summer’s day whilst he hid among beggars and rubbish, steering clear of those his ugliness angered. He saw a lizard scaling a wall and was transfixed by the little creature’s ability to search for food with one eye, while the other kept watch for predators. With both eyes moving independently to each other, the lizard had all angles covered, defensively and offensively. Madi instantly recognised the potential benefits of learning such a trick, especially in his position. So he taught he eyes to be like the lizards.

And now, as Berry and the Old One spoke across the table, Madi became fed up with the dizzying motion sickness looking from one to the other gave him, and employed the trick. His eyes slowly separated and he assigned one to each lady.

Satisfied now, Madi reached up and took his clay mug of milk from the table, lifting it to his mouth hidden in his hood. Master Jian had once told him that when women spoke it was called ‘yimmer-yammer’, and rarely was it worth listening to. So he didn’t, and drank the safely white-coloured milk in blissful ignorance.

As he drank, he frowned the brow above the eye on Berry. Blue was not her colour. But the amber ball was lost now and the Old One was angry because of that. Or was she? In fact, Madi was quite sure how he ended up pulling the cart, but he was glad for the blue satin bolt. It meant Berry received what she asked for, even if it was quite clearly the wrong thing. It also meant Madi was free to slip away and search for the lost amber ball. It was still around, close by, somewhere. He kept catching its scent very vaguely, but the smell of the flowers inside the inn was heady and overpowering. Perhaps he should . . .

Madi stopped drinking as his other eye noticed the Old One looking at him. He held the clay mug in place and slowly drew his eyes together, remaining absolutely motionless. She was frowning as if he had done something wrong.

“Madi!” said Bethberry, a little exasperated. “Ruthven is talking to you. Don’t be rude.”

Madi turned to the landlady. He hadn’t been listening to a thing. The Old One had obviously said something to him, and was supposed to know what. But he didn’t. He offered Berry his milk with an uncertain grin. Perhaps that would do instead.

Bethberry rolled her eyes, took the half empty mug from Madi’s small hands and placed it on the table. Then, with gentle movements, she slowly pushed back the little man’s hood. Madi’s breath caught and panic froze him. He looked imploringly into Bethberry’s eyes, but she softly held his hands down when he tried to keep the hood in place. With slow, encouraging movements, Bethberry pushed the hood back and turned Madi to face Ruthven.

Madi closed his eyes and waited for the moment when his senses were invaded by the colour red: the colour of danger. Then he would have to run from angry people yet again. Any moment now there would be shouts and curses, and then he would take flight and be gone from this good place. Berry didn’t understand. Ugly faces frightened people. She new what he looked like and didn’t care, it was different for her. She was like Master Jian. The Old One might see his face then attack him and strangle him. She might tell others to chase him down and kick him. She might . . . she might . . .

To Madi’s surprised his nose wasn’t filled with the smell of red. Nor were there any sounds of sharply in-taken breath, or angry accusations. The only sensation to greet Madi’s anxiety was a finger, tickling him under the chin, and the light scent of white in the air. Without opening his eyes, he gave a crooked grin, and chuckled throatily. It wasn’t Berry’s finger; it was the Old One’s. He’d met another good person. Not since Master Jian had he felt this safe and among friends. Berry had found him some nice.

Revealing in the safe sensation he rocked back on his heels, lost his balance, and fell flat on his back.

Bethberry and Ruthven quickly stood over the little fallen figure. Oblivious to their presence, Madi continued to chuckle, arms and legs flailing about, his eyes squeezed shut.

“He’ll do,” Ruthven laughed. “I’ll take him with me the rest of the day. Maybe tomorrow also.”

Bethberry shook her head. “Are you sure you know what you’re letting yourself in for?”

“Aye,” she said. “I’ve got ways of keeping our little man under control. Best that people see him for what he is. It’s the only way he’ll get known and accepted.”

Bethberry pursed her lips at the writhing figure on the floor. “What do you think, Madi?” Her question was met with more obliviously happy squirming. “Madi!” she said sternly.

Madi stopped all motion and opened his eyes at the sound of Berry’s raised voice. He looked up into her face with a questioning stare. He could smell a light green colour. Berry was unsure about something.

“What do you say?” Bethberry repeated, and chuckled at Madi’s blank face. “To mine and Ruthven’s idea?” she prompted.

Madi shrugged. “Yimmer-yammer,” he replied.

Kryssal

07-27-2003, 01:58 PM

It seemed that Lowfel had scouted out for her more than Shrae thought he would have. Smiling slightly she picked up another piece of bread and broke it into tiny pieces, putting them on the table in front of Reen for him to pick up on his own. The little eight month old was thoroughly enjoying himself now that he had some food in his tummy and was able to play around a bit.

Shrae nibbled on some bread herself, it having been at least five hours since her last real meal. Reen had gotten some milk and fruit in before now, but she had been hauling some of her things into Lowfel's front room at the time.

Looking around she saw some customers having a hearty discussion and the bar tender setting up some glasses, but no maid to come with more food or directions to her room.

Well, if someone doesn't come soon I can just find it myself. It shouldn't be too hard; a small room above the kitchen with only a cot and crib. Reen really does need to nap soon or he'll fall asleep at early night and then keep me up all late night.

Reen looked up at her with a big smile on his face. Shrae put on a big smile and raised her eyebrows at him, making him laugh at her funny face. When he reached his pudgy little hand up with some bread in it she put his whole fist her in mouth and gently 'bit' his hand with her lips over her teeth, finally succeeding with getting the bread out. Reen burst into a fit of giggles and tried to pry open her now tightly closed lips.

Nurumaiel

07-28-2003, 11:59 AM

Leofan walked up and down the stable aisle, inspecting each stall carefully. His eyes, sharp in this business, caught even the darkest corners. At last he nodded and gave a grunt of satisfaction. All the stalls were cleaned and were, for the moment, perfect. Now came the next task of grooming the horses... all of them. But for Leofan this was an easy task. A complete and thorough grooming of four horses would take him no more than an hour.

The stable door opened, and Frodides walked in, Mærcwen at her side. "I just wanted to tell you, Leofan, that Mærcwen and I will be going to the market. Almost everyone has left, and though I didn't intend to go, I can't keep Mærcwen locked up in the inn."

Her husband nodded with a little sigh. No, there wasn't much point in going to the market. Almost everything sold there was too expensive for them to buy. He looked down at Mærcwen, who was beaming up at him happily, excited at the idea of going to the market. Coming to a decision, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a few coins, putting them into Frodides' hand. "Buy Mærcwen a little treat," he said with a smile. "Buy something for yourself as well."

Frodides eyes opened wide and she stared in bewilderment at Leofan. "But... but..."

"It doesn't matter, Frodides," he said. "If we were back home, it would be something I couldn't possibly afford to do. But now it will be made up for. We'll regain what I just gave you, because now I have work that pays."

"I keep forgetting," said Frodides in a wondering voice. "It is true though."

"Have a good time at the market," said Leofan. "Don't stay too long (Bethberry may need you), and avoid pickpockets... we're not rich, even if we can spend a little money."

Frodides and Mærcwen left the stable, and Leofan picked up a box of grooming tools and entered the first stall to continue with his work. As he began running the brush down the horse's coat, the door to the stable opened again, and he glanced over his shoulder, expecting it be Frodides with a question for him. But it wasn't. Aleia, if he recalled the name correctly, came into the stable, a thin, weary-looking boy at her side.

"Well, well," said Leofan, leaving the stall and approaching the two of them. "What's this?"

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Frodides made her way through the crowd, clutching Mærcwen's hand tightly. The last thing she wanted was for her daughter to become lost. She kept a close eye out for any suspicious looking people, as well as for a stall that Mærcwen would enjoy. A turn of the corner and she found it. Different little trinkets for sale: fake rings and necklaces, pretty little things that flashed in the sunlight.

"Here, Mærcwen, what would you like?" Frodides asked, leading her daughter to the stall. The little girl picked up a necklace and a ring, and looked at them both, considering carefully. "Mummy," she said with a little sigh, "I don?t know which one I want."

Frodides hesitated, then she took all the coins her husband had given her and put them in the seller's hand. "Then take them both, love." After all, the happiness of her daughter was worth more to her than any cheap trinket she could buy for herself.

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

07-29-2003, 10:56 AM

As they made their way over to the stables, Aleia stopped Anwir and faced him.

"Now, Anwir, you'd best be promising me this: that you won't be stealing from the stables. The Horse is a kind place, but only for those with good intentions. You won't be taking anything from the White Horse premises, will you?" she asked. Anwir gulped and said with a determined face, "No, miss lady. I won't steal anything from this here place. It's real nice."

Aleia smiled and ruffled Anwir's hair, saying, "That's right, lad." When they got into the stables, Aleia was about to call for Leofan when he stepped out of a stall.
"Well, well, what's this?" he asked, eyeing the pair.

"This is Anwir, a young man who was caught thieving in the market. I brought him to you because I thought you might need an extra hand in the stables," answered Aleia. Anwir still looked a little wary, and he kept close to Aleia's side. Leofan looked skeptical, and he said, "How can I trust this boy not to take anything from the stables?"

Aleia nudged Anwir, and he took a deep breath and said, "I won't take anything from the White Horse or the stables, sir. This place is real nice. I promise that I won't take anything. I promise!" He looked up at Leofan and a smile lit up his grim little face.

Leofan chuckled and said, "Well, boy. You had better stick to your promise, or a real punishment will be in hand. You don't need to thieve to get by around here. A good honest day's work will get you a meal."

Nurumaiel

08-03-2003, 11:35 AM

"Thank you, miss," Leofan said with a little nod to Aleia. "I do believe I will take this young lad on. I suppose I could do with some help around the stables." Aleia grinned, gave Anwir another warning, and then departed.

"I suppose first you'd better learn the ways of the job," said Leofan, turning his gaze to the boy. "You won't have any specific job in the stables. If I call you, you come; if I tell you to do something, you do it. That's the basics of it. It will mean more work for me, because I'll have to teach you everything, but it will be good for you." He knew it would also be good for himself, to teach a headstrong young lad who had previously made a living from stealing to do honest work and learn the ways of caring for a horse.

"We'll start with my own steed, because I know he won't harm you and you're just a beginner," said Leofan, leading the boy to one of the stalls. "His name is Mihtig, and though he has his faults, he's gentle and will treat you kindly, if you do the same to him."

Anwir reached up a bit nervously, for he had encountered many ill-tempered horses in his days wandering the streets. He ran his hand down Mihtig's shining bay neck. The stallion nicked in pleasure and stretched out to nudge the boy with his head. Anwir gave a cry of alarm and jumped back. Mihtig also looked a bit startled and tossed his head, then, observing Anwir's frightened eyes, gave a low whinny as if he were chuckling.

"What would you like to learn first?" Leofan asked.

"I don't know what there is to learn, sir," said Anwir, cautiously stepping up to Mihtig's head again. "But with your permission, I'd like to get to know your horse better first." His voice faltered, as if he were unsure how to put his thoughts into words. "I think that maybe I could work better here if I knew horses better."

"That's a very sensible plan, lad," said Leofan. "You and Mihtig get to know one another, and I'll get on with my work. Just let me know when you feel confident enough to learn." Then he went back to the horse he had been grooming, leaving Anwir and the stallion alone together.

Bêthberry

08-03-2003, 03:47 PM

"Is it yimmer-yammer to lie there grinning like a contented silly, Madi? Is that what yimmer-yammer means?" inquired Ruthven as she gently prodded his little body with her sandaled foot, not quite tickling him, but not pushing meanly either. Still, she was challenging him.

Snorting and huffing a bit, Madi rolled over because of the insistent, nudging foot and stood up. He straightened his hood and his burlap habit and eyed the two women with a more serious demeanour.

"No. Madi doesn't yimmer-yammer. Master Jian said women yimmer yammer," he intoned solemnly.

"So you've come here seeking yimmer-yammer, then, Madi?" asked Bethberry sprightly. A look, a cross between a grin and rolled eyes, passed over her face. "How will you recognize it when you hear it, if you don't pay attention?"

Now Madi was confused. Berry expected to be listened to. She expected him to pay her attention. Perhaps he had missed something. He wished now he had listened to the Old One and Berry as they talked.

"Madi came for some nice. But Madi will work," he reminded her.

"Well, Madi, that's what we were asking you. About some important work. What would you like to do?"

Madi gulped. He hadn't expected this. This was new. It wasn't frightening; he didn't taste red. But it was ... unknown. A hint of green rose on his tongue as he became unsure, but then a flood of brown swept over his senses as he realized with surprise and some shock that Master Jian might not have been right. At least about these creatures called women. Maybe it was important to listen to yimmer yammer after all. He scratched at his messy hair and sat down again at the table.

"You want Madi to do what?" he asked, a look of intense concentration covering his face as he tried to determine what these women were about.

"Bethberry was thinking you should get to know Edoras. And that people should get to know you. I told her what happened at Market. She doesn't want people to laugh at you, so she thinks you should help me with some deliveries," said Ruthven, looking straight into the little fellow's face so that he could neither avoid her gaze nor separate his eyes again.

Madi squirmed. He was not used to being given a choice. Nor being looked at so squarely and directly. He scrunched up his mouth, as if frowning with his entire face, and extended his long tongue in thought. The brown moment was lasting a long time. He looked at the Innkeeper.

"Madi can still stay here? And come back to work for Berry?"

"Yes, Madi," the Innkeeper smiled. "But let's find out what kind of work you do best. An Inn is a busy place, you know, not at all like the silent, quiet room, I bet, where you worked with this Master Jian. We are crowded with people who will come to know you. You will have to learn to pay attention to yimmer yammer, also." She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head at him as she said this.

"Okay," said Madi, feeling like he was caught in a headlock, "let's go." He had already decided that this might be a way to find the lost amber, which he could still faintly sense. He would be able to explain Berry's colour better to her once he had the amber to give her.

Bethberry looked quizzically up at Ruthven, who nodded.

"Day's not getting any younger. Nor am I. I've got your pillow slips to show to the fishwife and some old glass to Barthaew. Come," she said.

The two, the stooped, limping old woman and the small fellow, trundled off. Bethberry was left quietly mulling over events, fingering the bolt of blue satin and wondering why something about it didn?t feel quite right.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ruthven trod a regular route, for habit was what made people look out for her. She didn't walk the front streets, either, but the back alleyways; she called to the back windows and kitchen doors. Madi was fascinated by the warren-like patterns of the streets and utterly mixed up about direction. One and two story mud and timber buildings leaned over the streets at odd angles and ditches ran with smelly fluid. There were no stone roofs like there had been at Minky Ting.

"Veny," he asked. "Why does grass grow on top of houses here?"

"Heh," shrugged Ruthven. "None hereabouts are wealthy enough for slate roofs like the White City boasts. Too much of our money goes to fill the trade coffers there and too little is left here for our needs. Except for the Golden Hall. There's a fair bit of mucky pride there."

Madi didn't know for sure what mucky pride was. He wondered if this was part of yimmer yammer, so he though perhaps he should ask Ruthven about it.

"What's mucky pride? Is it like the smell in the puddles here?"

Ruthven responded with a deep cackle which startled Madi. "Worse, lad. They think they don't stink," she said, which confused Madi all the more. This yimmer yammer, he decided, was going to be hard to understand.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They approached the fishmonger's house and familiar scents of the sea port tickled Madi's nose.

"Rags, bottles, oldenwares," Ruthven cried out. "Goods for exchange."

The fishmonger's wife poked her head out a large window. Her nose was large, reddened, and veined, and she was still holding in her fist a bloodied cleaver that bore pieces of fish flesh. "Have ye any bed linens today, Ruthven?" she asked.

Madi, gasping as he spied the cleaver, hid once again behind the cart. Unbidden, words came tumbling out his mouth, not in his regular voice but in an unusual, sing-songy falsetto.

"Three blind cows.
Three blind cows.
See how they run.
They all came charging after the fisher's wife who cut off their tails with a carving knife.
Did you ever see such a sight in your life.
As three blind cows."

The fishermonger's wife howled throatily.

"What have you got there, Ruthven? You've added stories and a merry laugh to your exchanges."

"Just about, Ulmea. I've got me a help today. I'm breaking someone in for The Horse's Innkeeper."

At the words 'breaking someone in' Madi began to shake his head adamently. "No, no, no," he moaned.

Both women laughed again and Madi blushed. He decided he didn't like this yimmer yammer at all. No wonder Master Jian had told him to ignore women. This was more head lock.

"I've got some pillow slips. Fine condition. Well kept. Pressed and neat. Not even needing mending."

"I can give you an old bellows for them. Wood's still good and real brass too, but the leather has cracked and split, won't hold much air."

"I'll take it," agreed Ruthven, who knew the tanner owed her a favour and would replace the leather for her. She marched around the cart, pulled Madi upright, and placed the slips in his hands.

"She likes you, lad. People seem to cotton to you real quick. Go to her now, there's a lad. She won't bite."

Ulmea came out the door, her hands wiped clean on her messy apron and the cleaver nowhere in sight. Madi could sense a bit of white about her, not much, for her messy apron spoke volumes about dead fish, but at least he didn't fear for himself any more. He puffed out his cheeks and frowned at Ruthven.

"Berry wouldn't do this to me," he pouted.

"No, not all. That's why I'm here," she replied cheekily, with a wink of her squinting eye, as she pushed him towards Ulmea.

Guardedly, Madi approached the fishmonger's wife and held out the pillow slips. He hoped they wouldn't get covered in the messy red smear from her apron. They were clean and creamy yellow.

Ulmea handed him the bellows and told him to wait. He stood an eternity waiting for the tingle of red to arise, but it didn't. Instead, Ulmea returned with a cracked bowl of pickled herring and sour cream and a small handful of cucumbers.

"Here's reward for your joke, lad. You look hungry. So Bethberry's bringing in a jester for entertainment to The Horse, eh? She'll be drawing crowds for sure with you."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The two walked on, Ruthven shuffling more and more as the day wore on but Madi tramping about keenly. They shared Ulmea's offering, Ruthven, a poor, thin woman, eating the pickled herring and cream avidly, while Madi, saying he didn't like the taste of purple, nibbled contentedly at the cucumbers, letting their juice run down his jaw out of the corner of his mouth and then smearing it over his face with his hand by way of wiping it off. Once finished, Ruthven patted him merrily on the shoulder and chuckled good naturedly.

"Madi, my lad, you've made a friend. You were a hit. That's the first time our shrewish fishmonger's wife has volunteered anything extra to me. You've a gift there, telling stories and songs and jokes. Getting folk to laugh at themselves instead of you."

Madi had no idea what Ruthven was talking about. Or what the rhyme had meant. It had just come over him when he saw the bloody cleaver. It was like a story he had swallowed and then brought up again, out of fear. But he didn't tell Ruthven this; he thought it important not to ruin her fun. He smiled, then, just a tiny bit pleased with himself, hoping this was the right yimmer-yammer way to do things.

[ August 04, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Aylwen Dreamsong

08-03-2003, 04:24 PM

Aylwen, Castar, and Windheneb continued their trek through the market well on to noon. They passed by bricklayers and bakers, glassblowers and herbalists, jewelers and shoemakers, not to mention the frequent jesters, acrobats, and minstrels. Many times the group of three would stop for a time at the wishes of Windheneb to speak with women who he thought fancied him. At these many stops, Winny would talk and flirt with several women at once, while Castar and Aylwen would walk together and look at whatever booths and businesses were closest.

"So you only come here every few months for the Market?" Aylwen asked Castar as they watched a few older women braid hair for money. Windheneb was flirting with one of the young ladies getting her platinum blond hair braided, and was helping her choose the ribbon color as his friend and Aylwen spoke. Castar nodded in response to Aylwen's question, and winced as he watched an elderly woman tug at a little girl's hair to make the braid tight. Aylwen laughed. "The price of beauty, for some women, is painful. But for them it is not in vain, especially with men like Winny floating around the market."

When Winny was done flirting with the women at the braiding stall, the group moved on ever slower as Windheneb stopped more often to speak with women. Sometimes it was quick chatter, but other times Winny would talk for what seemed like hours. Castar was anxious to find the face painter, and Aylwen wanted to return to her duties at the White Horse, for she had already been out for most of the day.

"Forgive me Castar, but the day is no longer young and I have been away from the White Horse for much longer than I had anticipated. Perhaps we will meet again, but until then, it was wonderful meeting you," Aylwen said to Castar when Winny decided to stop to speak to a woman acrobat. Aylwen hugged Castar, and before she left him she said, "Castar, the face painter is across the market way from the man selling quilts. Over there."

After pointing Castar in the right direction and waving goodbye, Aylwen turned away and made her way through the market back towards the White Horse. It was late afternoon already, and the sun was already descending on the horizon. When Aylwen had escaped the frenzy of the market and was on the main road back to the White Horse, she began to murmur a little tune to herself:

Tell me the tales that to me were so dear,
Long, long ago, long, long ago,
Sing me the songs I delighted to hear,
Long, long ago, long ago.

Now you are come all my grief is removed,
Let me forget that so long you have roved.
Let me believe that you love as you loved,
Long, long ago, long ago.

Do you remember the paths where we met?
Long, long ago, long, long ago.
Ah, yes, you told me you'd never forget,
Long, long ago, long ago.

Then to all others, my smile you preferred,
Love, when you spoke, gave a charm to each word.
Still my heart treasures the phrases I heard,
Long, long ago, long ago.

Tho' by your kindness my fond hopes were raised,
Long, long ago, long, long ago.
You by more eloquent lips have been praised,
Long, long ago, long, long ago.

But, by long absence your truth has been tried,
Still to your accents I listen with pride,
Blessed as I was when I sat by your side.
Long, long ago, long ago.

By the time the last verse and the last hum of Aylwen's voice had faded on the warm summer air, the Assisstant Innkeeper was back at the White Horse. The White Horse was attended at that time only by Bethberry, but Aylwen was glad for the Innkeeper's presence, so that Aylwen could deliver the thistle bracelet she had purchased for Bethberry.

[ August 03, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

Mathom Collector

08-04-2003, 09:46 AM

The gilr shook her head politely, turning on her heel and heading in the other direction.

"Must be busy," Barthaew mumbled to himself, ducking under the stall under the pretense of replenishing the dwindling supply of plates and bowls.

As he resurfaced, he saw the play actors' circle now surrounded by acrobats. Children circled it, clapping and laughing in delight as the people tumbled on the grounded and jumped through the air. He saw one, a short woman acrobat, do a rather impressive flip through the air, landing flat on her feet.

Just in front of her was a young man, who looked to be about Barthaew's age. He wore a cheeky smile, but this she obviously easily forgave, as he was a very good-looking fellow. He spoke to her, leaning forward slightly, and she nodded bashfully at his comments. Barthaew pursed his lips, pushing his hood back, observing this more carefully. He had never considered himself skilled with women or even anyone that they would be pleased to have grinning at them like that, but it wasn't as if any woman would slap him in the face for trying. Why couldn't he be more like that fellow? Of course, he made it look like second nature.

One of the other acrobats (male, or they would have been there all day) beckoned to the girl, and she turned back to her fellow workers, waving a little to the man as she went.

Barthaew watched him as he smiled and turned away, putting his hands in his pockets and surveying the rest of the scene. Before he could look away, Barthaew saw that the young man's eyes were now locked with his. Barthaew looked away, ducking under the table again, though there wasn't room on the table for him to put anything else.

"Lose something?" a cheerful voice spoke up above him.

Barthaew rose slowly, to see the young man now standing in front of his stall.

"Just a bit of dignity, I suppose," Barthaew mumbled. "Uhm...may I interest you in something?"

Sophia the Thunder Mistress

08-04-2003, 11:29 AM

Iswyn rose, white faced, from the ground where she'd been kneeling. Most of the cloves had been replaced in the tiny fabric pouch, and luckily all her other packages had stayed tied. With all her purchases safey in the basket, she glanced about for Deol's flowers. There they were, a few steps ahead of her, dusty and a little crushed, but still nice. She picked them up, shaking the dust from the green ribbon still tied around their stems and tucked them on top of the rest of her things. She clutched at Lachlan's outstretched hand as she got to her feet, still trembling and weak in the knees.

Silly girl, she chided herself inwardly, nothing happened to you. Stand up straight and have just a little dignity for once. She let go of Lachlan's hand and looked up at him. "I should go. Talan will be angry with me." She took two steps in the direction of Hamish's stand before Lachlan was beside her again. Her steps had been shaky, yes, and she was glad to have his hand on her shoulder.

"I'll go with you, make sure you get there all right." The expression on the young man's face was kind, and Iswyn vividly relived the moments where he defended her against the drunken old man. How strong he was, and how safe she was with him. She relaxed just a little and let him guide her through the market, back to where Talan paced the dusty street alone.

"Iswyn!" He looked shocked to see her. She glanced down at her dress and shoes, noticing that they were dusty and rumpled. Her face must look a mess too. She wanted to cry. How humiliating. How awful. Wordlessly, she pushed the basket in her hands at Talan and felt a hot tear run down her cheek.

"She had a bit of trouble at market today." Lachlan spoke over her head to Talan. "She ought to get home and have a rest." Talan nodded solemnly, readjusting his own purchases to take the basket from her shaking hands.

"Hamish will deliver those birds to the inn later." He said, with a nod to the red faced shopkeeper, before reaching out to take Iswyn's hand. Iswyn shook her head no, clinging to Lachlan's hand like a little girl. She knew she was being silly, but she didn't dare let go. Not till she was back at the Horse, back in the warm kitchen where everything was safe.

Lachlan exchanged a helpless glance with Talan. "How about we all three go back together?" He suggested. Iswyn nodded enthusiastically at this proposal, still clinging to his hand like a limpet. Only a short walk and the day could be over. Bethberry couldn't mind about the sand in the cloves, she simply couldn't. After Iswyn told her that she had done her best she would be free to go to the kitchen and the vegetable gardens, free to relax in the clean sun and reclaim the good day she'd had earlier. Haltingly the three set out to return to the inn.

After only a few steps Lachlan's face brightened. "I've got the cart with me today. How about I go and fetch it and drive you two back?" Iswyn looked up at Talan's face, beaded with sweat, and his arms full of both their packages. Reluctantly she relinquished Lachlan's hand and watched as the young man set off at a brisk walk in search of his cart.

[ August 09, 2003: Message edited by: Sophia the Thunder Mistress ]

Kryssal

08-04-2003, 08:37 PM

"He is so adorable!"

Shrae looked up at the feminine voice to see a very pretty young lady.

"Hi," she said with a big smile on her face. "My name is Mia and I'm supposed to show you your room."

Shrae smiled in relief while trying to get Reen to focus back on his bread instead of holding on to one of her loose locks of hair.

"Oh, good. I was afraid I'd have to find the room on my own."

Mia raised her eyebrows. "My, we couldn't have that! Oh, the tongue lashing I'd get from Bethberry if she even suspected the thought. Now, what could I get you right now?"

"I think I need to get Reen here to a nap first off. He's eaten enough to last him till dinner is served."

Shrae stood up and hefted the squirming boy onto her left hip. "Oh," she added as the thought came to her, "my name is Shrae and this little fellow goes by Reen."

Mia's smile got bigger as she bent down to look the baby in the face. "Well, hello Master Reen," she said as she wiggled one of his hands. He just stared at her with a quizical look on his face, then turned to Shrae as if wanting an explanation for the servers behavior. Both the ladies burst into laughter.

"Well, I did say he needed a nap," Shrae got out when her giggles had subsided.

"Here, this way," Mia said as she turned and led the way up a staircase located near the back of the Inn.

The room was indeed small with only a cot, crib and a tiny dressor filling up all the walls, leaving a small five foot area in the middle to turn around in.

"Whew, it's a little hot in here. Must be because of the kitchens," Mia said as she let out the window above the cot. "There, that should help a bit. Right, the food is included with the room so you can help yourself, and if you need anything just ask one of the servers or come find me."

"Thank you Mia," Shrae spoke to the departing back.

It was a tad stuffy in the room, but compared to the journey they had just completed the room was practically cool with the slight breeze flowing in from the window.

Laying Reen into the crib that eaily held his small frame, shrae quickly unburdened herself by tossing her bundle, carrying cloth and money onto the top of the dressor.

Reen was not happy about being in the strange bed and had stood up with the help of the side board. As Shrae turned to him he started crying. She just sat down on her cot and started to sing a soft melody that her mom had sung for her and Lowfel when they were children.

Reen had gotten to sleep by her side on the journey, but Shrae didn't want to keep it up; she'd seen children unable to sleep without their parents and she didn't want Reen to be so dependent later on in life.

As Reen continued his wails Shrae switched from one song to the next.

Taralphiel

08-05-2003, 01:02 AM

Lachlan drove the cart down towards the Inn, the young girl clinging to him for dear life. Inwardly he said 'Well, I asked for excitement...'. He looked at the pale faced maid, still shaking a little. Lachlan did not blame her.

He also noticed how worried her friend was. He remembered the lad from the Inn, Talan was his name. He was sure this boy could take care of her just fine, but she seemes resolute. He remembered his deliveries left to be done, and took up a little more speed.

'Ai..I still have to see the carpenter...hmm...well I'll just have to work hastier now' he thought as he rounded the corner, and headed to the Inn at the end of the road...

Before he got there, he turned and smiled at the young maid 'Well, Im sure your friend and yourself are quite busy, by the look of those packages. Its lucky I came by then.' he said, trying to cheer her up.

[ August 10, 2003: Message edited by: Taralphiel ]

Manardariel

08-09-2003, 06:51 AM

“Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday dear Fianna
Happy Birthday to you!”

Fianna´s eyes grew as round as apples as Mia brought in the big birthday cake. Made of different doughs, with lots of honey, dried fruit, nuts, and some whipped cream on top of it all; it was truly a masterpiece. Secretly, Mia thought it was her best creation yet and was planning to suggest it to Bethberry at the next big party. The next party! she laughed to herself. The last one was barely over and she, Mia was making plans for next year!

“Happy Birthday, my big girl!” Mia hugged her sister tight, giving her an extra big birthday kiss. Fianna giggled. “Tickes.” she confided, but glanced up hopefully. “More?” Mia laughed, giving her another kiss, and another one, and another... “There! Six kisses, one for every year you´ve been my little sunshine!” They laughed.

Mia scooped cake on everyone´s plates and watched Deor and Briga give their sister her presents: Deor had scraped up his last money for a honey-pop from the market; a sticky and very sweet candy the kids were crazy after, but Briga gave her a little stone she´s found, shaped like a butterfly. After these sweet little gifts, Fianna exitedly looked up at her sister. “And you?”

Mia pulled out a parcel from behind her back. Fianna eagerly ripped it open and, oh what joy as she found a brand- new jump-roap and two dresses for her favourite doll. Fianna clutched all her treasures in her arms as they went off to the White Horse.

Later, the day had turned to be as normal as ever, and Mia was depressed. It was Fianna´s birthday, afterall! Shouldn´t she be organizing a party instead of standing here, in the kitchen, making soup for strangers?! She had promised her mother on her deathbed to make the children happy, and now she couldn´t even make Fianna´s birthday a fun and happy occasion? She could hear the city kids, occupied with their usual games –hide and see, fire-water-earth, tag- and from time to time caught Fianna saying things like “It´s my birthday, you know...”- it could have broken her heart.

After showing a new visitor –accompanied by a gorgeous baby- her room and pushing her false cheerfulness to the end, she made a decision.

“Misstress Bethberry?” Chewing her lip, she looked at her boss. “Umm, ma´am, you see, it´s my sisters birthday and I was wondering, could I, maybe...have half the day off? Please? I promise I´ll come in at night tomorrow, I´ll do whatever you want me to, but please, can I just do something with Fianna today?”

alaklondewen

08-10-2003, 09:38 PM

An excitement filled the air as Lairwyn walked out of her small house and closed the door snugly behind her. She lived close enough to the center of town that the sounds and smells of the market were already stimulating her senses. The slight skip in her step moved her along more quickly than her normal pace, and she arrived at the edge of the stalls within minutes.

Taking a moment to soak everything in, Lairwyn took a deep breath and thought about what to see first. She tucked a blonde strand behind her ear as she turned to the right and surveyed what was in store in that direction. A few stalls from where she stood hens were restless in their cages. A little further down the row, a woman had a variety of materials and ribbons laid out, and Lairwyn made a mental note to stop there before the day was over. She’d saved a little extra money this week after an unexpected birth two nights ago, and she hoped to maybe find a nice fabric with which she could make a new dress.

To her left Lairwyn spotted a produce stand she would need to visit to pick up some onions and tomatoes. This direction led to the center of the activities and what looked to the woman like a play or production of some sort. It was decided; Lairwyn pulled the handle of her basket up over her arm and made her way toward the center.

Belin

08-12-2003, 08:04 PM

The player Wingesith counted out the coins they’d gained, with only an occasional glance at his partner Fremman, who had been genuinely drunk and who still couldn’t be trusted with such a task. Not that he ever allowed him to handle the money in any case; the man had no thought of the future when he might need coin for something other than drink, or when he might need a partner for something other than stealing from. The man who was king on the streetcorner was subordinate to his counselor in the rest of the world, just as Wingesith supposed real kings often were, although he doubted that any king in Rohan had ever been as irksome as his current companion, who was currently elbowing Wingesith in an effort to get him to laugh at some joke comprehensible only to his own alcohol-sharpened mind. His eyes, of course, were fixed on the money. A noble king indeed.

But Fremman was the darling of the crowds, and regularly brought in more money than Wingesith had ever been able to garner on his best days, if only one could manage to keep it away from him. With a slight sigh, Wingesith looked out at the way the crowd had reformed since the end of their performance. His eye caught a few young thieves plying their trade, one well suited to the young and agile, who could ward off starvation without being saddled with such a partner. He smiled slightly, imagining a man with his own tall and imposing build attempting to sneak through the crowd the way these children could, standing close enough to pick someone’s pocket unnoticed. It was a far more comical idea, somehow, than that of picking up a thief and setting him to play counselors. After all, that was Wingesith’s own story. He sighed.

“Cabbage,” remarked Fremman.

“What?”

“Cabbage, I said.” He nodded decisively, as if the comment were self-explanatory. Wingesith stared at him. With an exasperated sigh at the stupidity of his colleague, he elaborated in a slow, patient voice, as if he were talking to a child who was still learning to speak. “We need cabbage. For the act. Cab-bage Ki-ngs.” He nodded again, pleased with himself.

“Of course!” said Wingesith brightly. It was an odd idea, and he still wasn’t certain exactly what Fremman had meant by it, but he had learned that the man’s bizarre ideas were as profitable as his drunkenness, and there was no point in letting him think he came up with everything himself. “That’s it exactly. How clever you are,” he added in a voice that was just condescending enough to let him know he would have come up with the same idea in another five minutes, or five minutes ago had he not been contemplating something deep and unspecified. Fremman, disconcertingly enough, chuckled, nodded sagely, and contemplated Wingesith with a careful and surprisingly clear eye.

“Am I then?” he asked softly.

“Er… yes,” answered his companion lamely. “Why don’t… here, the vegetable stands are this way.”

The excitement in the city center was of a different style than the usual, noticed Wingesith, both tense and cheerful, and not businesslike in the slightest. Something new was here. He frowned. Here was a dumb show, one he’d never seen in the city before. He stood still on the edges of their crowd and watched carefully. He didn’t know them, unless the one with the ridiculous mustache turned out to be old Ellorthain, but their performance was astonishingly expert. One of the strengths upon which Wingesith prided himself was knowing both uncertainty and cheating when he saw them, and here he saw neither. He looked over the crowd quickly, trying to calculate whether it was larger than their own. Would cabbages be enough to keep people interested in them?

“Fremman,” he said, “what do you want to do with the cabbages?”

But he got no answer. Fremman had wandered toward the stalls by himself, and was looking at onions over the shoulder of a woman who had not yet noticed his presence.

*Varda*

08-13-2003, 09:12 AM

Iona ran up the stairs to her small room, her shoes noisy on the wood. Dumping her basket filled with packages on the bed, she flew back down the stairs and into the kitchen, trying to avoid the watchful eye of Froma, as she was already late.

Donning an apron, she set to the increasing pile of dirty dishes beside her – mostly glasses, the smell of beer and ale strong in the air. The noise in the hall outside grew louder, as she heard men, women, and young children all coming in from a morning at the markets. Busy listening to the strains of conversation wafting through the door, Iona forgot what she was supposed to be doing until a large crash on the floor jolted her to her present task. Remnants of a shattered glass were scattered across the floor.

To Iona’s relief, Froma and the other servants were out of the room, and so she quickly swept it up and disposed of it. No one had been around to witness her clumsiness, at least. Wiping the last dish clean, she moved out into the hall where the tables were filling up, and began to take orders.

Bêthberry

08-13-2003, 10:21 AM

Bethberry held out her right hand and looked keenly at the intricately detailed bracelet as Aylwen snapped it on her wrist. The Innkeeper could almost imagine the sting of the thistles, so well-wrought was the piece of jewellery.

"Aylwen, I don't normally wear jewellry, but this is indeed a special piece, chosen thoughtfully. I will wear it with honour, a single ornament, in recognition of the cost of life well-earned."

Aywlen nodded, happy that her gift had been understood. Before she could speak again, Mia appeared with a most earnest request. Aywlen chuckled aloud.

"I'll leave this for you to handle, Innkeeper," she said, a smile coming unbidden to her face, as she bowed slightly in making her departure.

The Innkeeper looked into the earnest, tumultuous eyes of the young Mia, too young, really, to have to handle such a responsibility yet. Yet the girl must learn or she would fail her task. And what then of the little ones?

"Mia, indeed, a celebration with Fianna would be delightful; I can well imagine it. But suddenly leaving, even in offering to work another time, is not a responsible way to run an Inn. There are others here who depend upon us, rely upon us, to provide for their needs. Had you thought to plan ahead, asked me yesterday, or even early this morning, I could have arranged for another to cover your work. As it is, now, with so many staff away at market, we have few enough on hand to do the work. There is much to do to prepare for dinner and to attend to the rooms and laundry. The Inn cannot spare you now."

The girl's eyes widened in her disappointment, tinged perhaps with anger and surprise at being denied her request. Bethberry watched for a reaction, knowing that in the balance hung whatever success Mia would have to care well for her younger siblings.

A crash of glass interrupted them. With a nod, the Innkeeper strod off to the kitchen, in time to observe, unnoticed, Iona sweeping away the last shards of broken glass. Seeing that the girl was unhurt, she tucked the memory of the accident away in her mind and returned to Mia.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

OOC
I cannot access my PMs. Some of you sent me queries about futher interactions. Could you please resend them to my addy and I will be back in touch asap:

bethberry@barrowdowns.com

Thanks!
Bethberry

[ August 22, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Mithadan

08-13-2003, 12:23 PM

All conversation ceased as a tall, black cloaked figure entered the Inn. He paused, then proceeded to the end of the bar, mail clinking beneath his cloak as he walked. Aylwen looked up as he passed and waved. "Hi Grrralph," she said without concern as she resumed her task of polishing the bar.

He pulled a scroll from beneath his cloak and tacked it to the wall, before turning and walking out without a word. All gathered waited for the door to close before rushing up to see the notice which had been posted. It read as follows:

"Greetings! The Moderators and staff of the Realms of Gondor, Rohan and The Shire have undertaken a review of the Rules governing the RPG Forums here at the Barrow-Downs. If you would like to offer a comment or observation or register a complaint (or even...gasp...make a compliment) please do so HERE. (http://forum.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=21&t=000012) Thank you!"

alaklondewen

08-13-2003, 09:12 PM

Lairwyn held her basket close to her side as she looked over the vegetables lined up in the small bins in front of her. Reaching out she picked up several tomatoes individually and rolled them around in her hand testing the firmness of the fragile fruit. After selecting four and placing them gently into her basket, she moved down the line to the onions and performed a similar ritual to assess their quality. With her final preferences in her basket, Lairwyn carefully pulled out a small green bag she kept tucked snugly in the top of her stockings. She counted out the appropriate amount of coins and placed them in the palm of the merchant’s hand.

As she began to return the bag to its hiding place, she stepped back and onto something…or someone! Spinning on her heels, Lairwyn apologized profusely before looking up and seeing the tall man standing over her. As soon as their eyes met the smell of liquor hit her and she gasped. While trying to back away from the man who stood smiling down at her in what she felt to be an inappropriate manner, she managed to bump into someone else and then dropped her money pouch. A couple of silver coins rolled out and she quickly knelt to catch them.

“Here, I’ll help you with that.” The man immediately dropped to his knees to help retrieve the coins. However, Lairwyn snatched them quickly out of his grasp and held them tightly in her fist. The man’s drunkenness had slowed his reaction time, and it was several moments later that he fully realized the money was no longer loose for the taking.

“I’m fine, thank you.” Lairwyn was already back on her feet dusting off her small gray dress, when the man’s gaze found her again and that creepy smile was restored. After snagging her basket from below her and throwing it over her arm, she turn hurriedly away and tried to leave the area, but she stopped when a large hand took hold of her elbow and spun her around.

Idgian

08-17-2003, 11:45 AM

Madi’s belly was uncomfortably hard. He sighed and pulled his habit taught against his spherical midriff, worried about its cannonball size.

Ruthven looked down and chuckled. “Only one left, Madi,” she said, offering him the last cucumber. “Shame to waist it.”

With a sour expression, Madi shook his head at the cucumber, his eyes imploring Ruthven to take it away.

“Over eaten, eh?” the old woman mocked.

Madi wasn’t listening. He suddenly jumped to his feet and gripped the edge of the wagon tightly. A pained look cracked his features. He darted his confused gaze around the area, panic rising in him like a fever.

“What is it, Madi,” Ruthven asked, her concern clear.

Madi’s eyes widened to the size of saucers and he belched massively (surprising himself as much as Ruthven) and fell back into the wagon seat, snoring loudly, deeply asleep.

* * *

It was the smell of curiosity that disrupted Madi’s slumber. A darker shade of green that tickled his nose and sneezed him awake.

“So you’re back with us, little man,” Ruthven said playfully. “Is your stomach feeling better?”

Madi stood on the seat and stretched. He scratched his head and looked around, feeling a little sleep-disorientated. “Madi dreamt of honey,” he mumbled and plonked back down beside Ruthven. He yawned and looked up at her. “What?” he asked pointedly.

“What do you mean ‘what’?” Ruthven retorted, somewhat wrong-footed by Madi’s abruptness.

“Madi can taste your questions.” He smacked his lips to emphasis the point. “Just ask,” he assured.

Ruthven smiled with more than a little wonder. There was no fooling this one, she realised. Something deep down told her there was a well of discovery beneath Madi, and she wondered if even he realised it was there. “All right,” she said after a moment. “Tell me about master Jian; the scholar, from Minas Tirith.”

Madi nodded. “He was nice. Madi was his helper. He was old and died.”

Ruthven nodded sympathetically. “And what did you help him to do?”

“Speak.”

“Speak?” Ruthven echoed.

Madi confirmed with a curt nod, but offered nothing more by way of explanation.

“Was master Jian a mute, Madi?” Ruthven prompted.

Rolling his eyes, Madi tsked. “No.” He began drawing in the air with an invisible quill. “Madi speaks. Master Jian writes.”

Ruthven pursed her lips and thought for a second. It took a moment for her to realise what Madi meant. “You dictated,” she said, with a soft chuckle. “Master Jian wrote down the words you . . .” Ruthven looked at Madi sharply, the implications dawning on her. “Madi, can you read?”

Madi shook his head and screwed his face up, wondering what reading had to do with anything. Venny, he decided, had trouble sticking to one subject at a time.

Ruthven frowned. “Then what did Master Jian write?”

If Madi was honest he could’ve sworn Ruthven was mocking him now. After all, there was only certain number of ways one could say the same thing differently. He took several long sniffs of the air. No, all he could smell was the dark green shade of curiosity. There was no fun being made here. Perhaps Venny was a bit slow on the uptake.

“Master Jian wrote what Madi spoke,” he said, spreading the words in a slow, deliberate way, making it easy for her to understand this time.

“Then . . .” Ruthven paused, wondering if the little man was mocking her. Perhaps he was finding it difficult to understand and follow the conversation. “What did Madi speak?” she asked, adopting the little man’s tone.

Madi made an exasperated noise at the back of his throat. “Words!” he snapped, jabbing his hands forward to emphasis the statement.

Ruthven stopped the wagon and eyed Madi curiously, struggling to find a little extra reserve of patience. She tried to see his face hidden in his hood’s shadows.

In return, Madi pushed his hood back and looked up at Ruthven with a semi-irritated glare. “Problem?” he enquired, prissily.

Ruthven’s sternness dissolved and she laughed heartily. “I think Bethberry, was right,” she said and reached under the seat. “I don’t think I’ve realised what I’ve let myself in for. Aha! This should help make things clearer.” She lifted up a rolled parchment triumphantly. “I’ve had this thing a long time. Never been able to read though.” She offered it to Madi. “Will you speak to me like you did for Master Jian?” She asked kindly.

Madi smiled and took the parchment. Venny might be a bit dim, but he was quite happy to do as she asked. Of course, he realised he was giving away nice for free, but that was all right, just this once. He remembered how much his speaking pleased Master Jian, and he felt safe and wanted around the old one.

Madi unrolled the parchment and sniffed it. He smacked his lips and closed his eyes.

Slack-jawed and dumbstruck, Ruthven watched in incredibility as Madi stuffed the parchment into his mouth and began happily chewing. Noisily, he ate the whole thing in one go, even seeming to savour the flavour. Madi swallowed the parchment in a single, throat bulging gulp.

“What are you doing?” Ruthven demanded, her momentary stupefaction passing.

Madi hiccupped, licked the end of each finger, and cleared his throat. He stood and opened his arms as if addressing the world. When he spoke, it was with a voice not his own. Gone was the simplistic, careful and overly pronounced accent of Madi. Now a smooth, deeply rich tone purred from his voice box. Even his gestures and mannerisms had changed and belonged to someone else entirely.

“He caught her, held her fast! Water-rats went scuttering. Reeds hissed, Herons cried, and her heart was fluttering . . .”

Ruthven baulked. “Madi?”

But the little man was somewhere else, and continued, oblivious to the old one’s surprise, rolling poetry from his tongue like the purrs of a cat.

[ August 17, 2003: Message edited by: Idgian ]

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

08-17-2003, 01:01 PM

Leofan stepped out of Mihtig's stall and walked away. Anwir stepped back again from the stallion's neck and eyed him nervously. When he had been younger, Anwir had been bitten savagely by a stallion just like this one, and his arm still bore the scar to prove it. But this horse was unlike that one; his eyes were kind and gentle. Anwir reached up a trembling hand and stroked Mihtig's velvety nose. The stallion nickered softly and nuzzled the boy's hand. Anwir smiled, confident now that the stallion wouldn't hurt him unless he had good reason to.

Anwir spied a brush lying on the floor of the stall and picked it up. As he started to brush Mihtig's silky coat, the stallion nickered his approval and tossed his mane. When Leofan came back to check on Anwir and Mihtig, he was pleased to see that the two were interacting beautifully.

"So, lad, have you been getting to know Mihtig?" asked Leofan. Anwir started and whirled around, panic on his face, until he saw that it was only Leofan. He relaxed and said, "Yes, sir. He's a very nice horse."

Leofan smiled and said, "Do you like horses, Anwir?" The boy smiled back and answered, "Yes, sir. Most of them are very nice, like Mihtig."

"Good," said Leofan. "Because now you are going to be learning about how to groom a horse properly. Listen closely, lad, and if you have any questions ask them, because if you don't know what you're doing you can get into a muck of trouble."

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

Aleia stepped out of the stable into the sunny afternoon, leaving Anwir and Leofan to the horses. She stretched and yawned as she walked back towards the market; she hadn't gotten up very early but she was still tired. As she stepped back into the bustling market, she surveyed the scene with a smile. Her thoughts went back to Anwir, and she hoped that he kept his promise of stopping his thieving.

Bêthberry

08-21-2003, 12:07 PM

OOC Announcement: A new game has just come to town. Writers of the Mark, check out the opportunity and fun in Resettling the Lost Kingdom. The discussion thread is open for business.

Bêthberry the Rohan moderator, not Bethberry the Innkeeper. Ha

Bêthberry

08-23-2003, 05:07 PM

Here is an updated list for all people who can game in Rohan. Please note that we now have two categories of gamers in Rohan, those who are game players and those who are game owners as well as players. This list will be added to the list in the first post of this thread and well as to the thread The Golden Hall, remodelled. The new rules will also be added there soon.

Gamers with full status as Game Owners and Game Players:

Adanedhel 4711
Anglachel 4315
Annunfuiniel 6496
Airerûthiel 4573
Arien 5520
Arvedui III 598
Auriel Haevasawen 2051
Aylwen Dreamsong 3938
Belin (Ibaimendi) 1321
Brinniel 3296
Cuthalion 3330
Daniel Telcontar 2975
Dark Shadow 5380
DayVampyre 7028
Deorlin 5212
doug*platypus 5476
dragoneyes 4574
Dwarin Thunderhammer 452
Earendil Halfelven 5268
Estel the Descender 1984
Envinyatar 5883
Galadel Vinorel 3964
Garen Lilorian 5106
Great Warg 3138
Gryphon Hall 2424
Ivy of the Woods 3230
Helkahothion 4764
Himaran 5731
Hirilaelin 6107
Horse-Maiden of the Shire 5542
Ithaeliel 2844
Kryssal 7005
Leighlei 1156
Lugbùrz 3733
Lyra Greenleaf 6073
Maikadilwen 1987
maikafanawen 5409
Manardariel 5211
Mattius4068
morai 2921
Nurumaiel 4911
onewhitetree 8
Orual 4756
Palando 6583
Ransom 4136
Sadbh 5241
Sharkû 3
Taralphiel 2723
Thalionyulma 1955
the real findorfin 473
theRuling Ring 4285
The White Lady 3754
VanimaEdhel 1864
Varda 3144

as well as all Gondorians

Gamers on a one-time only 'pass' to complete a game, who will return to The Shire upon completion of the current game:

Beruthiel 4876
elvenmaiden Earwen 5853
Meneltarmaciel 8259
Osse 8485

Gamers on 'probation' who could gain entry to Rohan as game players if they successfully complete the game they are currently in:

Carrun (RLK) 5606
Durelin (Brotherhood of the Last Alliance) 4652
TheLady Aerowen (RLK) 3670
Tinuviel of Denton (RLK) 7130

Rohan Game Players: Those who are game players in Rohan but who must first found a game in The Shire before earning Game Owner status in Rohan or merit consideration for waiver status by co-owning a game in Rohan with a Rohan Game Owner. (This latter waiver category is extremely rare).

Alaklondewen 1873
Sophia TTM 2643 (AHD, C&C)
TheXPhial 95 (RLK)

Gamers who can post at The White Horse Inn thread :

Anyone who can meet the minimum standards for gaming in The Shire

Full explanation of the rules will be up soon!

Bêthberry,
Moderator for Rohan

[ August 24, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

VanimaEdhel

08-24-2003, 05:31 PM

Castar bustled away from the face-painter with a piece of parchment some time after he went to the table, smiling merrily to himself and humming nothing in particular to himself. He had been forced to part with a few silver coins, but it was worth it to be able to show his father the translation.

He slowed and looked around for Windheneb. Windheneb was right where he had left him, chatting to a young jewelry-maker. He was smiling at her, holding one of the beaded necklaces she sold. When Windheneb saw Castar, he pardoned himself from the girl, taking the necklace with him.

"Do you think my sister will like this? Anaya gave it to me for free," Windheneb, said, excitedly.

"Anaya?" Castar looked at Windheneb.

"Oh...Anaya. The girl over there selling the jewelry," Windheneb said merrily as he moved on down the street. "Did you get your Elvish?"

"You remember all their names? And yes, I did, for your information. Aylwen showed me the way."

"And where is your little blossom of a friend?" Windheneb said, smiling at Castar teasingly, "And will I be invited to the wedding?"

"I am n-...well...erm...she's not my...gah!" Castar gave up on both trying to ward off Windheneb's teasing and attempting to keep stray strands of hair that he missed when pulling his hair back out of his face, "And do you want to know what the cloth says?"

"Sure...here, let me see," Winheneb took the paper. On the paper, the face-painter had written:

As the Ages pass and Mountains move,
One truth only shall remain eternal.
Love may fade or last, leaves fall or grow,
Yet this one truth shall be.
Fair kindred fall, eternal yet,
But lives not longer than this truth.
What remains, the wise may ask,
When all the Earth is gone?
Remember now the eternal truth,
That nothing, in fact, is eternal.

"It doesn't sound so nice translated," Windheneb said.

"My father will still love to see this, though," Castar said, smiling lovingly at the paper as he took it back and carefully stowed it in his pack.

The two walked back to their stands. They decided that they had enough of attempting to sell their wares for the day. Castar packed up what very little remained, most of which was broken. He would have to carry it to the Inn, as his horse was stabled for the night. Before Castar left, Windheneb came over again.

"Where will you sleep, friend?" Windheneb asked.

"I think I shall stay at the White Horse Inn," Castar said, "It is where I usually stay when I come here."

"Would you mind if I came with you for dinner at least?" Windheneb asked.

"Not in the least!" Castar said, joyous at the prospect of having company. They made their way over to the Inn.

They entered the Inn, and Castar looked around. The workers in the Inn seemed to be busy, even though the Inn was not nearly as crowded as it would be by the time full darkness fell. He spotted Aylwen bustling about, doing chores around the Inn.

"Aylwen," he called, blushing as she turned. She came over and hugged him, greeting him warmly, causing Castar to blush a deeper shade of purple.

"Oh, and hi, Windy!" Aylwen said, just as warmly to Windheneb. She turned back to Castar and inquired whether he would be staying in the Inn. Castar nodded, still a bit flushed, and Aylwen ran to check the registry to see what room would be available for Castar's use.

Aylwen smiled as she hurried past. Castar and Windheneb struggled to keep up while carrying Castar's things as they made their way up to the room.

"Do you need anything else?" Aylwen asked as she opened the door. Both men shook their heads "no". "Fine, then, I will let you boys be alone," Aylwen smiled as she shut the door.

"What do we do now?" Castar asked Windheneb. Windheneb just shrugged. The two sat on the bed, making light conversation, waiting to hear a bustle of patrons downstairs, in the hopes that they could later enjoy some merriment in the Inn that night.

Bêthberry

08-27-2003, 09:06 AM

And Madi purred on, almost automatically, until finally he reached a last line.

" ... there you'll find no lover."

Whereupon he stopped, cleared his throat in a sonorous way more deeply than that he had yet used with either Bethberry or Ruthven, and bowed a short, curt closure to his recital, looking not a little smugly satisfied with himself.

"Well?" he said, when Ruthven failed to respond.

The Old One was still staring at him incredulously. His question seemed to surprise her.

"What?" she asked, shaking her head as if returning to the conversation. She had mutely been mouthing some of the lines Madi had recited, as if to herself, trying to recollect them.

"Well," he replied huffily this time, his hands circling the air as if he was trying to prompt something.

"Well, what?" Ruthven responded.

Madi pursed his lips together, setting his jaw so that it became even more pronounced.

"Waiting," he said. "Get going."

"Waiting and get going at the same time? Where?" she replied, with a laugh despite her own confusion. She really didn't understand what Madi was on about but she was beginning to see some humour in the situation.

"No where," retorted an exasperated Madi, who was missing master Jian rather much at this moment. He hummed for a bit and tapped his foot. He really liked Vinney and all, but the old girl really could be slow sometimes.

"Aren't you going to write what Madi spoke?" He was beginning to wonder if he had wasted his nice completely.

"Write! You're a funny one, Madi. Since when would the likes of me know how to write? Or read? I can sign my name, is all, and that's thanks to Bethberry and none others."

A penny dropped for Madi, or would have, if he had had a pocket for coin. Or any coin, come to think of it. He looked at Ruthven with a sudden awareness, tinged with sadness. He had at first believed he could find the nice again he had had with master Jian. But obviously he couldn't, at least not with Vinney even though he felt safe and warm with her. He bite his lower lip to keep it from trembling and his large, dark eyes looked sadly forlorn again, as if, saucer-like, they were ready to catch a falling tear.

"Can't write it?" he asked, wistfully.

Ruthven was almost going to tease Madi that she would not have had to write it out if he had not eaten the parchment in the first place, but then she looked at him and began to realize his real disappointment. Her fondness for him winning out over her sense of humour, she tried to find a way to reassure him that she had appreciated his performance.

"No, can't write," she admitted, with a twinge of bitter resignation in her voice. "But I thank you for telling me the verse. You've reminded me of it. You see, I've heard it before, long ago, I'm sure. It's an old one, a very old one. It's one Bethberry told me, long ago, when she first came to Edoras, but I had forgotten about it. And now you have given it back to me. I wonder how I came to have the parchment of it here."

"Berry knows it?" asked Madi, his eyes lighting up." Madi can give it back to Berry?"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure. As I recall, she could recount it with many a great laugh and glee, sort of knowingly, if you know what I mean. It seemed to have a hidden story for her. Beats me if I could ever suss it out though."

Here the old woman stopped, as if lost in her thoughts again. Her head began nodding time and her lips moved silently, as if repeating the verse to herself again. Madi began to wonder if all old people regularly talked to themselves, but then a sudden start from the Old One interrupted his thoughts.

"I think it goes with something else she told me," she muttered hesitantly, "something about 'shoreless seas and stars uncounted' Yes, yes, that was it. 'shoreless seas and stars uncounted ... and, and, an ever-present peril." Here Ruthven became frustrated that more words would not come.

Madi, however, was transfixed. He looked up at Ruthven. For a brief moment a pained looked passed over his face and he almost panicked, wondering if he would belch again. Then he straightened up. "Venny," he said. His hands extended once again as if he were addressing the world with bright lights upon him as he picked up the very words she had spoken, and filled them out.

But this time Ruthven was not swept up in nostalgic remembrance of a nonsense verse, for though clearly Madi knew the story she had vainly tried to recall, yet he knew far more about the peril than she had ever heard.

"it is dangerous to ask too many questions," he intoned, 'lest the gate should be shut and the keys be lost ....' " Her eyes widened as Madi continued, until finally she was driven to try to stop him.

"Hush! Hush! Oh, shush! How do you know such things?" she asked, brushing his lips lightly with her hand, and then resting it on his shoulder, with worry and amazement. Blinking, Madi looked up at her in surprise.

No one had ever intruded upon his words before and he didn't know how he could stop. He felt ill, truly sick even. He felt like he was holding something down that didn't agree with him; he almost retched and his cheeks bulged. And he couldn't understand what was wrong and why Ruthven had stopped him. He stood, wavering on his feet for several minutes, until eventually his stomach settled. Finally he swallowed the air in his mouth and began to speak again in his normal voice.

"Humpf," he retorted, impatiently, not in the least understanding what had disturbed Ruthven. "Now what?" This was definitely not like his days with master Jian, who had been pleased and calmly excited with everything Madi had read to him--well, everything but this one nasty tome--and who had died imploring Madi, in a weak, faltering voice, to take good care of his words. Madi half suspected that Venny thought his words were junk and wanted to sell them herself, but he tasted the air and could sense only real concern tinged with fear about the Old One. Then he felt a bit bad about first misjudging her.

"Madi, my lad," opined Ruthven, "I think I need to get you back to Bethberry, who might understand these things."

With those words, Ruthven picked up one handle of her cart, and not even waiting for Madi to take the other, she turned back down the allyway towards the White Horse, her pace now quickened and her face sombre. Madi nearly tumbled over his handle but he could tell the Old One was seriously bothered by something. He shoved his hands in his pocket, and scurried to catch up. He seriously hoped that Bethberry would be able to write what he spoke the way master Jian had learned to. Or that she could learn to at any rate. Maybe then Venny wouldn't be so worried about all this.

Rushing their pace and each lost in thought, neither Ruthven nor Madi saw the young woman come upon them.

[ September 03, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Manardariel

08-27-2003, 12:33 PM

"...As it is, now, with so many staff away at market, we have few enough on hand to do the work. There is much to do to prepare for dinner and to attend to the rooms and laundry. The Inn cannot spare you now."

Mia stared at Bethberry, blind to her sympathetic eyes, and deaf to her apologizing voice. Her first impulse was to hit Bethberry over the head with a large frying pan and run; her second to cry. She decided against both, hanging her head and blinking furiously. She wouldn´t cry, that would only make things worse.

“Yes, yes, ma´am I understand....” Her voice trailed off. What was she doing? Half of her was telling her to apologize and go back to work. Apologize? What have I done? The other half argued. Mia just stood there for a moment. Then she regained power of herself. Calm. A massacer with a pan wouldn´t do anybody any good, neither would a major argument with her boss. “I´ll just....go back to work then, I guess....” And she walked into the kitchens.

Making wheatbread was a boring business, and Mia had never liked it. But now, she was fine with whatever Froma wanted her to do. And the dough was actually rather good for agression purposes. Her fists crushed the soft dough as if she was trying to crush herself, for her stupidity. Why couldn´t I keep my big mouth closed? What if Misstress Bethberry thinks I don´t want to work at the Inn anymore. What if I loose my job? Father´ll beat the hell out of me, he´s done it before. And the kids, they´ll go hungry. The bakery doesn´t earn enough to feed five hungry mouths, not in these times. Oh Mia, you are such an oaf!

“Watch out with that bread, girl!” Froma called. Mia shot him a murderous look and formed the ripped, punched lump of dough into something that looked remotly like a loaf of bread. Ignoring Froma´s accusing glances, she shoved it into the oven, getting started on the next one.

The oven´s heat made her angry. Why didn´t Bethberry understand?! What did she think she was, the secret queen of Edoras, superior to all of them? Her Inn was probably the second-most-important place in Rohan, but did that make her so special? Maybe she was influencial, and wise, and whatever else people said. But Mia didn´t care about what Bethberry was, or what her Inn did. She cared about her siblings, and about the sadness in Fianna´s eyes.

[ August 29, 2003: Message edited by: Manardariel ]

Annunfuiniel

08-27-2003, 01:08 PM

“Hello, M'Lady.” The words of greeting broke into Aiyana’s consciousness and she raised her head in surprise. Had someone just addressed her? “Might I interest you in something?” She needed a second glance before she could isolate the speaker form the crowd.

Any other day she would gladly have taken a closer look at the young - and good-looking – glassmaker’s produce. But not today. Like a ray of sunlight that peeked from behind storm clouds his friendly smile only made the darkness around her seem deeper, more threatening. Before the silence turned awkward Aiyana forced herself to act. Her tongue refused to form a single word so she helplessly shook her head and walked away.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid!’ She gritted her teeth and silently scolded herself; ‘Have you already given up?’ But her anger wasn’t lasting, despair prevailed. ‘Yes, it’s over, all over…’ Aiyana trudged forward without watching, without seeing. Her feet took her along the familiar city streets; past the stalls, through crowds, around corners – hesitating not once. But her mind was elsewhere. People flowed past her, many familiar faces looked up and greeted her. Lairwyn was only one of them: she nearly bumped into Aiyana and a wide smile rose to her face as she recognised her friend.
“Aiyana!” she exclaimed, but Aiyana walked forward. Lairwyn stopped and turned to watch how her friend's back drew away from her. “Aiyana?”

‘Yesterday…’ the grave maiden thought and suddenly an unexpected, preoccupied smile lightened her expression. ‘Everything was so perfect!’ Even before her smile died away a tear drew its path down her dusty cheek. Yes, everything had been perfect, she had been happy. ‘Yesterday…’

* * * * * * *

Aiyana plunged through the door and ran across the hallway. ‘I’m late!’ she thought but then laughed over it. ‘So what? It was well worth it!’ Her dark blonde ponytail swung gaily from side to side as she scurried up the stairs two steps at a time – in most unladylike manner.

“Aiyana?” The maiden heard her mother’s voice from the room on her left. She slackened her pace and inhaled deeply, trying to settle her panting breath. “Yes, mother?” Aiyana replied and peeked in to the small but bright chamber. Light yellow curtains flapped in the soft evening breeze that flowed in from an open window.
“You are late from supper,” A middle-aged woman spoke and stood up, placing her embroidery on a nearby table; “…and from the party.” The woman’s face was grave but no trace of disapprobation was to be heard in her tone. Mother and daughter stood face to face, the other grey and calm, the other flushed and still gasping.

“I know. But I couldn’t leave earlier.” The younger woman tried to gain an earnest, professional tone, an attempt in which she would have succeeded – in any other circumstances. But today all was different. “I must go and see father at once! I have great news for him,” A wide smile broke to her face, making her dark grey eyes glimmer in the light of the westering sun. “Finally it happened! Windwith flew to me; from over hundred yards it came to me. No hesitation – Deor can prove it - but straight and neatly to my glove hand. Now that he’s manned I can start flying him and-” Even through her excitement Aiyana became aware that Fridya, her mother, wasn’t really listening.

“So that’s where your brother has been.” The older woman seemed to revive as Aiyana’s voice ceased to be heard. “Well, go get changed now and then visit your father. Ava didn’t stay to wait you as she knew you would be late and she didn’t want to miss the party. Erian picked her up and they would have taken Deor with them too but he was nowhere to be found. Where is he now then? If he indeed must follow you then I hope you look after him; I don’t like him being around those beasts…

“Mother, my birds are no paltry ‘beasts’!” In case Aiyana had had time she would most likely have gone into a detailed account on falcons’ superiority to any other animals. It was her mother’s luck that she was in hurry. “And Deor is fine, he just got left behind as we raced home from the mews.”

Fridya sighed and raised her hands as a sign of surrender. Aiyana rolled her eyes and turned to leave. “I hope Ava didn’t borrow the dress I was planning to wear?” she exclaimed from the door.

* * * * * * *

Aiyana dressed hastily in her lavender-blue silk gown and put on her soft, pointed slipper socks. ‘What about the hair?’ she pondered – but not for long. She untied the rough ponytail and swayed her head downwards and then back up. The wavy tresses settled down on their own under her shoulder blades. “That’ll have to do…” Aiyana spoke to her reflection as she wiped off a lock trailing over her eye and then headed back downstairs.

* * * * * * *

She knew where to look for her father: at this hour of the day Wildor Kestrel always sat in the study, putting the family’s accounts in order.

“Father? I have great news-” But to the girl’s surprise the grey-bearded man wasn’t sitting in front of his table but stood back towards the door. Hearing his daughter’s voice he turned around.

“Daughter, you look beautiful tonight.” The old man spoke but Aiyana didn’t pay any attention to his words. ‘What is wrong?’ The young woman frowned as she saw her father's strained face. But even as she was about to speak her thought aloud her father took a step towards her and extended his hand to her.

Behind him stood a tall man in dark uniform.
“Aiyana, we have a visitor; come and greet him…” Wildor took his daughter’s hand; “This is Sir Déoren, the captain of Erian’s company. And he has come here tonight with a request.”

Aiyana stared at the floor as she did a practised, yet not the most graceful curtsy she could pose. Whether the stranger noticed this or not was hard for her to tell but in secret she would that the man had indeed marked her slight arrogance. For before lowering her eyes she had seen the man’s pale blue gaze measuring her like she was some prize bull. From that first look onwards she took an instinctive dislike to him.

“So this is the flower of your house of whom we have spoken.” Sir Déoren greeted her with a barely visible nod. His voice was clear but cold as the mountain streams and involuntarily Aiyana shivered upon hearing it. ‘Why have they talked about me?’ She wondered, knowing already that whatever the answer might be she would hardly like it.

“Yana, I have news for you too. As I said, Sir Déoren came to me with a request and we have now discussed it…” Wildor spoke to his daughter but didn’t look at her. Then suddenly his wandering gaze halted and fixed on Aiyana. Never before had she seen such look in her father’s eyes. Was it sadness, remorse or relief that reflected from the mirrors of his soul Aiyana couldn’t tell – and her heart skipped a beat. 'Whatever comes you’ll handle it!' she told herself.

But the blow that came was overwhelming.
“Aiyana. On behalf of his son Déorwine Sir Déoren has asked me for your hand…” The sun sank beyond the horizon. ‘Last sunset!’ “…and I have given my consent and my word.” Darkness fell.

* * * * * * *

Reality hit Aiyana literally in the stomach. She had continued her aimless stroll even as her mind wandered on quite different paths; many bruises would remind her the next day of the dangers of such mindless wandering. But suddenly she walked straight to someone standing right in the middle of the street. Air escaped her, and with it a frightened scream of one who has just waken up from a nightmare.

During the next seconds things happened too fast for Aiyana’s drowsy mind. She saw the ‘obstacle’ to which she had ran into: a child, or so it seemed to her at first. The hooded figure sat on the ground, motionless like a stone in the posture to which Aiyana’s push had sent him flying.

“S-sorry…” she managed to falter. From under the veiling hood all she could see was a gaping mouth and a flash of wide open eyes staring at her in terror. “I didn’t mean to-”

Suddenly the small figure sprang up quicker than the eye could perceive. His mouth opened and closed couple of times but no voice came out of him. Then, before Aiyana could do a thing, he swung round and darted away.

“Wait-” Aiyana began but her shaky voice wouldn’t have stopped anyone. ‘I really scared him out of his mind! I must go after him…’ But before she could carry out this plan another voice spoke to her in a confident tone.

“Heavens, Aiyana! Your cry made me jump! And likely it’s startled Madi too. Now he’s gone, who knows where.” The young woman turned around, still, and now even more, confused. She had recognised Ruthven’s familiar voice but in her state she couldn’t give her an answer of any kind. The old woman was straining to see where the boy had gone.

“And what’s with this sleepwalking? It isn’t healthy to daydream while wandering around on Market Day you know.” The old woman turned back and eyed the falconer, her previous perplexity and slight annoyance giving way to concern. “Aiyana?”

“I’m…fine, Ruthven. But that boy… I didn’t mean to scare him. Where did he go, I must speak to him!”

“Yes, he’s a bit slow in some things and then too quick in others.” Aiyana’s brow furrowed at Ruthven’s words. ‘This is hardly the time for riddles.’ She thought but let it pass. Ruthven’s concern for the boy made her feel even worse. The old woman grabbed the handles of her wagon and put it in motion with one strong push. “He’s a strange little man, and strong, yet I worry. I hope he’s made for The Horse, and Bethberry. He-”

But Aiyana was gone too. She ran towards the White Horse Inn, resolved to find this ‘strange little man’ and explain and apologise her behavior.

Some way up the road she stumbled and fell on her knees. The stench of the gutters assailed her nose and she got up in no time, pushing aside a pair of hands too eager to help her. “Damned skirts!” she puffed and grasped the cloth with her free hand.

The panting girl reached the inn’s door without further incidents. Inside it was too crowded; she couldn’t tell if the little hooded fellow was there or not. But suddenly it didn’t matter.

"Aiyana? Good to see you!" The innkeeper’s voice was full of warmth and joy upon seeing a good friend. But it took a whole another tone when Aiyana fixed her gaze on her. “What’s wrong?” Bethberry’s worry broke the dam.

“All! Everything!” Aiyana cried and grabbed the back of a close-by chair to hold her balance. Her tears ran free.

[ September 04, 2003: Message edited by: Annunfuiniel ]

Daniel Telcontar

08-27-2003, 01:18 PM

Lachlan's cart finally rounded the corner to the street where the White Inn lay, and Talan jumped down, or more correctly, fell down with all his packages.

He piled them together and then turned towards the cart. "Thanks for the lift, mister, that was mighty kind of ye," he said with a little smile to Lachlan. He then turned to Iswyn and offered her a hand to help her out of the cart.

Iswyn looked at his extended hand for a few seconds, unsure of she should accept it. But finally she allowed Talan to help her down, and she also took her leave of Lachlan. Talan managed to get a hold of their shoppings and also have a firm grip of Iswyn's hand.

It was not as if he thought something would happen to her; after all, the White Inn lay just down the street. But he felt responsible for her, as if she was a sister that their father had told to take care of; and he had failed.

Therefore, he took a good hold of her hand, sent her a reassuring smile and then walked down the street towards the White Inn.

Taralphiel

09-04-2003, 06:12 AM

Lachlan watched as the girl hesitantly moved out of the cart. He nodded to Talan and said 'I might be seeing ye around soon enough, with all the errands I have here! Good day to you!' and spurred on his horse.

Looking idly over his shoulder, he saw that he had collected quite a few of the things that were needed, and all that he had to get from the Markets. 'Hmm...that leaves the carpenters. Ah! Lowfel will enjoy some company, and Ill tell him of my courageous deeds!' he chuckled to himself, and headed for the other side of town.

Guiding his horse to the stables there, he hopped down and called out jovially through the workshop 'Lowfel! Where can a winemaker get a keg for his ale hm?'

Idgian

09-09-2003, 12:42 PM

Bethberry had just hung a small bouquet of sweet smelling flowers above the bar, when she heard somebody counting in soft whispers. She climbed down and looked under a table, and there was Madi, hood up, knees drawn to his chest, quietly counting his apple pip collection.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Ruthven?” Bethberry enquired.

Madi stopped counting. “Get off,” he sniffed, moodily. “Madi’s busy.”

“Come out of there,” Bethberry soothed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Reluctantly putting his pips away in his pocket, Madi shuffled from under the table. He stood before Bethberry, hooded head downcast. “Madi got knocked down,” he huffed. “By a girl with a rainbow.”

“Ah.” Bethberry smiled knowingly. “You must’ve met Aiyana.” She patted Madi’s head. “Perhaps we could find something in the kitchen to cheer you up?” she said. “Something tasty, maybe?”

The hood slowly lifted. Round eyes glinted in the shadows. Bethberry, it seemed to Madi, had a very good point. Something tasty from the kitchen would indeed help to dwindle his upset.

* * *

In the kitchen, Froma looked over at Madi sitting on a worktop and then to Bethberry standing beside him. He shook his head and carried on preparing vegetables on a chopping board.

“There’s nothing ready yet,” he told Bethberry. “Just raw vegetables or some fruit.” He looked up again, slightly irritated. “Does he have to wear that hood all the time, Beth? I like to look folk in the eye.”

“No, he doesn’t” Bethberry replied and she rounded on the little figure. “We’ve talked about this before, Madi,” she told him and pulled the hood down.

Madi shot her a look and pulled the hood back up. Bethberry pulled it back down again and grabbed Madi’s hands, gently holding them to his sides. When his brief struggling ceased, she ruffled his hair and wiped the residue of tears from his cheeks. Madi’s frown was so deep it almost pushed his tusk-like teeth into his eyes.

Froma emptied a sack-full of potatoes onto his worktable. “I heard you were different looking,” he said to Madi. “But that’s no reason to hide yourself.”
But Madi was staring at the potatoes, the cook’s words lost. His frown had turned to hungry eyes.
Froma couldn’t help but chuckle. “Where’s he from, Beth?”

Bethberry puffed her cheeks. “It’s a bit of a story, and not one I can pretend to understand fully,” she said, and ruffled Madi’s hair again. “You don’t do things straightforwardly do you, little one?”

Madi pointed at Froma’s chopping board. “Botatoes,” he said greedily.

Froma and Bethberry shared a look.

“If you mean you want a ‘Potato’,” Froma corrected, “they haven’t been cleaned or boiled yet.”

Madi nodded wide-eyed. “Botatoes. Yumyum!”

“Po-tatoes,” Froma reasserted. “P not B, Madi. P-O-tatoes.”

Madi shook his head adamantly “B-O-tatoes,” he shot back. “Botatoes for Madi please!”

“Potatoes!” Froma said sternly. “Say it properly and you can have some when they’re cooked!”

“Botatoes now!” Madi shouted, wondering what he had to do to get his feed. “Botatoes, Botatoes, Botatoes!” he continued in a rising pitch. Didn’t Froma understand he was upset and in need of cheering? “Botatoes!”

The strain of shouting eventually proved too much for Madi. He clutched his throat and fell down on his back, writhing dramatically. He stuck his tongue out to emphasise how severely his voice box hurt.

Bethberry looked to the ceiling in total wonder and sighed. "Madi, Stop it!" she scolded. Madi ceased squirming and slowly withdrew his tongue. Bethberry smiled apologetically to the cook. “Please, Froma," she said. "Let him have a potato.”

Madi raised a hand and extended his index and middle fingers. “Two,” he gasped. “Two Botatoes!”

In total bewilderment, Froma broke into an uncontrollable smile. He chucked a couple of dirt-covered spuds down to Madi. The little man caught them with deft precision and instantly launched into a throaty chuckle of triumph.

Just then the kitchen door opened and Ruthven stuck her head in. She saw the writhing figure on the floor, a potato in each hand, and rolled her eyes.

“He found his way home, I see,” she said dryly.

Bethberry nodded. “What happened today, Ruth? He was very upset, though you wouldn’t think so now.”

“Where to be begin!” Ruthven replied seriously. “Is there somewhere we can go, somewhere private?” she whispered. “I need to speak with you about our little man. The sooner the better.”

* * *

Alone in Bethberry’s private chambers, the White Horse landlady and Ruthven sipped mint tea in companionable silence. Madi, for better or worse, had been left under Froma’s supervision. Ruthven stood looking out the window while Bethberry sat at her dresser stool watching the old one. As streaming sunlight haloed her thin form, she seemed frail to Bethberry, older and more troubled than she had ever noticed before. Patiently the landlandy waited for Ruthven to gather her thoughts.

“I don’t know, Beth,” Ruthven finally said. “I’ve never seen nor heard anything like it. Not in all my years of wandering.”

“Yes, he is a little unique,” Bethberry replied, and placed her cup down on the dresser.

“More than you know, lass.” Ruthven sighed and turned from the window. “He’s incredible, Beth,” she said pointedly, and then tapped her head. “Up here, he just might be the cleverest person I know. But I doubt even he is aware of it.”

“You’re not making much sense,” Bethberry said softly. “I’m sensing something more than the incident with Aiyana happened today, yes?”

Ruthven chuckled. “I found out what our little man did in Minas Tirith. This Jian, whoever he was, wasn’t just Madi’s keeper, Beth. He was an employer.”

Bethberry leant forward, intrigued. “Madi worked for Master Jian?” She nodded thoughtfully. “It makes sense. Madi said he’d work for me in return for nice. He must’ve done the same at Minas Tirith.”

“Yes.” Ruthven agreed. “But the work he did there was very different. Jian was a compiler of written words, as far as I can gather. Madi would dictate a text, while his master wrote it down.”

Bethberry’s eyes widened with surprise. “Madi can read?”

Ruthven barked a single, incredulous laugh. “It’s much more than that, Beth. Madi has a gift with words, and it’s . . . well, like nothing I’ve experienced before.”

“What?” Bethberry asked, smiling at Ruthven’s open expression of wonder. “Tell me, old friend.”

“I wouldn’t know how to,” she replied. “Not in a way you would believe me.” Ruthven thought for a moment. “Do you have something you’ve written to hand? Anything will do.”

“I have a journal,” Bethberry said. “Why?”

“Let me have the last page you wrote, and bring the little man up.” Ruthven smiled. “You should see this for yourself.”

* * *

Some minutes later, Ruthven and Bethberry stood before Madi as he sat on Bethberry’s bed, happily chomping on his last ‘botato’.

“Madi,” said Ruthven. “Will you ‘speak’ for Bethberry?” The old woman held out the page from the landlady’s journal.

Instantly Madi stopped eating and smiled. “Yes,” he said, nodding eagerly. He stuffed the potato into his pocket, wiping his hands on his habit. “Give it here,” he urged and took the page from Ruthven.

Bethberry had to admit, the last thing expected was to see Madi eat the page, but then surprise seemed to be a common thing around this little creature. She looked at Ruthven questioningly.

“Wait,” Ruthven whispered. “You’ll not be disappointed.”

Madi jumped off the bed and moved to the open window. He breathed the warm, country air deeply and sighed satisfactorily.

“It never ceases to amaze me how life can still maintain the element of surprise, even after all these years,” Madi began in a voice definitely not his own. “Sandwiched between the aftermath of a glorious party, and the hustle of a market day, fate still found time to smuggle in a conundrum. Madi, he calls himself, and he seems the dearest of creatures; out of luck and in need of love, it appears. I have taken him in for the meantime. Though my feelings are mixed as to where my charity might lead.”

“Voice sound familiar?” Ruthven asked Bethberry, and chuckled at the landlady’s slack-jawed gawping.

“He must’ve read the page before he ate it!” she accused.

“Trust me, Beth, Madi can’t read, at least not in any way you or I would make sense of. Anyway, how do explain the voice?” Ruthven’s chuckling turned to open laughter. “That’s the best impression I’ve ever heard of you!”

Madi was looking rather pleased with himself. He stuck both thumbs up at Bethberry. “Madi will speak for Berry anytime,” he announced and crawled back up onto the landlady’s bed.

Bethberry looked at Madi in stunned silence for several moments. She then pulled Ruthven to one side. “Incredible,” she whispered. “How does he do it?”

“Beats me,” Ruthven admitted. “He just seems to absorb the words off the page. But that’s not all,” she looked over at Madi who, oblivious to their conversation, had rolled backwards on the bed and planted both feet firmly on the wall "He doesn’t forget,” continued Ruthven. “What he absorbs stays up there, in his head. At least it seems that way.”

“How do you mean?”

“Ask him a direct question about something he may have eaten, he doesn’t seem to know what your talking about. He has to hear something said in the right way, even accidentally, to jog his memory. But when something does trigger him, there’s no telling what’ll come out his mouth.”

“I wonder,” Bethberry said. “Madi could have a whole library swirling around in his head.”

“Or not,” Ruthven pointed out. “I suppose it depends on how long he was with this Master Jian before he died.” She pursed her lips seriously. “It’s a case of everything or nothing, Beth. But which is our little man?”

Bethberry saw the worry on her friend’s face. “What am I missing, Ruthven? What’s troubling you?”

The old woman sighed. “I remember something my Da used to tell me when I was a girl: the less you know the less trouble will find you. Too much information can be a dangerous thing, Beth.”

Bethberry frowned. “You think Madi’s in danger?” she asked.

Ruthven shrugged. “Ah, I don’t know. But if our little man holds half as many secrets in his head as those scholars at Minas Tirith, some folk might not like him running around spouting goodness knows what to anyone he meets. He could be an accident waiting to happen. He might spell trouble for those around him too.”

“What are you suggesting?” Bethberry said levelly. “Send him packing and turn my back? I won’t do it, Ruthven!”

“No,” Ruthven answered quickly. “That’s not what I meant, woman! It’s not his fault after all, though I don’t doubt he can care for himself well enough on the streets. I . . . I don’t know what I’m trying to say, Beth. It’s just worth bearing in mind, that’s all. And the fewer folk who know about his eating habits the better, I feel.”

Bethberry nodded and looked over at Madi. “I wish this Jian were still around to talk to,” she said. “I wonder what he thought of Madi, and where he found him . . .”

Madi suddenly made a strangling noise deep in his throat, taking both Bethberry and Ruthven by surprise. He rolled from the bed, smoothly to his feet, and paced the floor of Bethberry’s chambers. With his hands firmly clasped behind his back, he began speaking with a voice akin to one of old and wizened years.

“Where to begin on the subject of my mad little codex?” he chuckled, shaking his head. “Undoubtedly, he is the sole reason I have been able to continue my work these last two years, and for that I send out blessings to whichever fate decided to send him to me.”

“Two years,” Ruthven whispered. “That’s a lot of eating time, Beth.”

Bethberry nodded and silenced the old street merchant with a raised hand. Madi continued.

“I suppose the same could be said for him,” the eerie voice of Jian said. “When I found the poor thing he was bruised and starved, shunned and hounded by a society shamefully intolerant of his looks. Even the vagabonds spurned him. I like to think he also blesses the day I took him in. He certainly seems happy.”

Here, Madi moved towards Ruthven with a thoughtful frown and slipped the old woman’s clay pipe from her pouch, and helped himself to a small amount of weed. He packed the pipe and lit it. He then resumed his pacing, one hand held at the small of his back, the other holding the pipe to his mouth as he puffed furiously. He turned to address the two women.

“The name Madi is of course a pet name, and one born from familiarity. I have filled the poor little blighter’s head with so much knowledge since our friendship began he has become like a walking library of information. And along with his charmingly unusual ways, I like to think of him as sweetly mad. I began to refer to him as my ‘Mad Codex’ or ‘Madi’ for short. And it is this shorted name that has stuck to him, like glue, even among my fellow scholars.

“As to my dear little friend’s true name and origin . . . that remains a complete mystery, as much to him, as it is to me. He has no recollection of his time before living on the streets, of his parents, or any siblings. I have spent many long hours searching our records for some indication of what race he descends from, but to no avail. I have come to the conclusion that he is a one off, possibly the result of years of inter-breading between mountain races. I suspect Madi is far older than his appearance suggests. To most, including myself, he seems sometimes to be no more than a child. Be that the case, then no child should have to endure the torture he has suffered at the hands of ignorance. Yet, astoundingly, Madi manages to keep a high regard for men. He only wishes to be treated ‘nice’, as he puts it. His level of forgiveness and tolerance speaks of maturity and experience.”

Madi gave a couple of puffs on the pipe, looking ridiculously studious. “But I digress,” he said, knowingly raising an eyebrow. “For many years now I have worked by dim candle light in my study. My goal is to compile as many of the ancient scrolls and books around me into sturdily bound compendiums. There are several of us endeavouring to transcribe these volumes. Eventually our work will be passed to other scholars who will make further copies, lest the history and poetry, great stories and thoughts of the geniuses of this world be lost to the ravages of time’s decay. This is, to me, a labour of love. But as age creeps up on all men, the years have not been kind to my eyes. And in the dim light of my study it has become harder and harder to read the texts I am to copy.

“What is this to do with Madi? How did this funny little scamp cure my problem? Synaesthetics is the answer. And a strange one at that.” Madi climbed up on a simple wooden chair and sat back, crossing his legs. “I have dealt with certain individuals suffering from synaesthesia in the past. It is a curious condition where the senses are back to front and out of sequence. For instance, it may cause a person to see sound, taste words, or smell colours. Usually the effects of the condition are milder than one might imagine. Though not a total blessing, Synaesthesia is far from a curse. Madi, however, suffers from an extreme strain, which appears unique and quite something to behold.

“When I first took him in he spent the first few weeks sleeping in the corner of my study and watching me work. He rarely spoke and ate scarcely. It took patience to break down his defences and gain his trust. But before long I had him eating from the palm of my hand. He would run errands for me, or carry simple messages between scholars. We spoke of his time on the streets and he asked questions of my work.

“It was one devilishly dreary day, as I remember, when I had just given up trying transcribe a particularly arduous scroll; the weakness of my eyes had given me a terrible headache. My intention was too pass the scroll on to one of my better-sighted colleagues, so I gave it to Madi and asked him place it on a safe shelf. Now, instead of doing as I asked, Madi chose to execute a most surprising alternative. He ate it! Even down to the wooden rollers. He crunched and swallowed every last morsel of that scroll. And before I could admonish him, or in any way express my shock, Madi began speaking in a voice that was clearly not his own. And further more, his words were the beginning chapter of the consumed scroll. From start to finish he read the whole thing, seemingly having absorbed the words and stored them to memory. Hastily, I copied down the words he dictated. What’s more, I discovered I did it in half my usual time.

“The next day I fed Madi another scroll and copied down the words he spouted. I gave him poems in Elvish, stories written in dead languages, all of them he ate and dictated. I had found the solution to my problem, and praised Madi and cheered his arrival every day. The little one had changed my fortunes and I worked with renewed vigour. My colleagues are astounded at my find, and often listen to Madi, while I copy. He is a true treasure among us, and a source of much mirth.

“I do not know how long I have left in this life, but I am glad to be spending my twilight with this incorrigible companion. He has wormed his way into the stone-like hearts of us scholars. He is to me . . . not a son . . . more the grandchild I never had. And he is my friend.”

Madi yawned and moved back to the bed, leaving the smouldering pipe on the chair. He pulled his half-eaten potato from his pocket and gasped as he found it covered in apple pips. “Pips on Botato!” he shouted, panic stricken.

Ruthven moved forward and retrieved her pipe. She turned to Bethberry with a worried frown.

“I see your point,” Bethberry told her and moved over to Madi. “It’s all right,” she soothed. “How about we plant your pips outside. See if we can grow some trees, eh?”

Madi’s mouth fell open excitedly and he nodded. “Yes please, Berry.”

Madi jumped off the bed and took Bethberry’s hand. The landlady looked to Ruthven as she started for the door. “We keep this between us for now, Ruthven,” she said.

The old woman nodded dubiously. “I agree. But how long can you keep the little man away from someone’s books? It’ll only be a matter of time, Beth. Something like this won’t stay quiet for long. Besides, it sounds like he gained a little fame at Minas Tirith.”

Bethberry knew the street merchant spoke correctly. “It may prove to be a smaller deal than we’re making it,” She said. “But all the same I’ll keep him here for now. I need time to think.” She sighed. “Can I call on you if need be?”

Ruthven looked a little hurt. “You know you can, woman! You’ve always been able to. Besides, I like the little man’s company.”

“Thank you,” Bethberry said and opened the door and slipped out with Madi.

Alone in the landlady’s chambers, Ruthven chuckled as the sound of Madi’s excited shouts drifted back to her: “Botato trees!” he cried.

She knocked her pipe against the windowsill, cleaning it of weed ash. As she watched the little dark cloud fall the to the ground below, the mirth suddenly dropped from the old woman’s face. The thought of Madi in distress troubled her to the core. “I hope there’s nothing following you, Madi Codex,” she whispered. “I really do,” and she left the room.

[ September 17, 2003: Message edited by: Idgian ]

Kryssal

09-10-2003, 12:00 PM

"Lowfel! Where can a winemaker get a keg for his ale, hm?"

Lowfel started at the sudden call and almost lost hold of the chest he was moving. Grunting under the pressure of trying to get the chest back in good grip, he called out "I'm in the house Lachlan, come and help an old man out."

The younger man came to the carpenters aid quickly and soon the chest was in its place.

"Ah, thank you. Now you wanted a keg?" Lowfel dusted off his shirt while walking slowly out to the workshop adjacent to the stables.

"Yes," Lachlan replied, walking forward but looking back into the house. "What is all the stuff in there? Are you trying to break into the merchant business?" he asked jovially.

Lowfel chuckled and clapped the younger mans upper arm. "Nay, those items belong to my sister. She just came today and left me with all of that. As for your kegs, today was market day and I've been trying to add a bit on the house for my sister, so I've only got one left but it's not of the best quality. Not too good looking for selling purposes, not bad for storage though. I'll make you some better ones if you want to come back tomorrow. What say you?"

Airerûthiel

09-10-2003, 02:17 PM

Etheldreda’s long black hair flew out in the wind behind her. She loved being out in the wilds of Rohan, with nothing before her but the rolling green plains of the Riddermark waiting to be explored. “Bring me the horizon,” she whispered, her cobalt eyes staring away to the line where sky and fields met. Her horse Tycyn whinnied softly. She patted the bay stallion’s neck and spoke to him in Rohirric. Her father bred some of the finest horses in all of Rohan, and she had always loved being around the intelligent, loyal and patient creatures. It was only after her brother had ridden away to join the Rohirrim that she and Tycyn had become close. Now the horse was her best friend; she barely thought of her twin any more. It had been his choice to try his hand at being what he was not, and good luck to him.

She smiled at this thought. How could she criticise her own kin, when here she was on the path to a new life of her own? But then she realised he was not kin of hers; it was impossible. Both he and her parents were flaxen-haired, as most people of Rohan were. She knew the tale well enough by now – when she was small, someone had found her wandering in Edoras and had brought her to her family’s house. No-one knew how she had come to be there.

Tycyn trotted on for a short time, and it was only then that Etheldreda realised that she was nearly at the inn. As the horse’s hooves clicked on the cobbles of the courtyard, she dismounted lightly as a cat and led the horse to the stables.

She spotted one of the stable hands and walked over to him. "Excuse me," she said, her voice as clear as riverwater, "is there any room here for my horse? We have come a long way and he needs rest as much as I do."

"Of course," the young man replied. "Let me find a stable for him. Do either of you have a name?"

"He is Tycyn," she said, "and my name is Etheldreda." She rummaged around in the pocket of her trousers and dug out some silver, which she shoved into the stable hand's palm. "Care for him well," she said.

The young woman turned and walked across the courtyard and into the inn, hoping to find another road to wander here. Perhaps she could even stay awhile and earn some money to fund her next journey in the wilds. As she strode through the door, she tried to look confident, though inside she wanted to disappear among the crowds. Her unusual appearance attracted a few stares, but she thought nothing of it. She walked towards the bar, behind which the smiling innkeeper stood.

"What can I get you?"

[ September 12, 2003: Message edited by: Airerûthiel ]

Nurumaiel

09-10-2003, 09:52 PM

Leofan, after giving his lesson to Anwir, left the boy for a few moments to practise his newly found skills and exited the stable. Crossing the yard, he entered the inn and saw Aylwen speaking to some newcomers. Her words were warm and her smile friendly and encouraging. Leofan once again felt grateful for the wonderful thing that had happened to his family as he approached Aylwen. "May I intrude for a moment?" he asked.

"Of course," Aylwen said, turning to Leofan. "What would you like?"

"I would only like to know if Frodides and my daughter are back yet," Leofan replied. "If Frodides doesn't need her, I'd like to bring young Mærcwen to the stable."

"I feel fairly sure she did," Aylwen replied. "I seem to recall seeing her enter the inn. She probably went into the kitchen."

"Thank you, miss," he said, and, after giving a little bow to Aylwen and the newcomers, departed towards the kitchen. Frodides was indeed there, washing some glasses and singing to Mærcwen, who was sitting on the counter watching her mother's every move with sparkling eyes. She was softly clapping her hands together, and humming along with her mother, occasionally singing a few lines before she slipped back into simply humming again. "She looked so sweet from her two white feet to the sheen of her nut brown hair..." Leofan stood silently until the song was ended, then applauded, though not too loudly, and went to the counter. Mærcwen sprang into his arms energetically.

"Would it be all right with you if I took this sweet little girl to the stable with me? I have a young lad that I am teaching the way with horses. He's grooming right now, but I can't stay and keep him company; there's too much work to do. Such a beautiful young girl as Mærcwen would keep him good company."

"Yes, you may take her," said Frodides, "though I'll miss her cheery face around here. But this boy you talk of might prefer no company at all after a few minutes of this girl's chatter."

Mærcwen smiled sweetly but did not answer, yet Leofan knew that no one could grow tired of her singsong voice and merry, freckled face. Setting her down on the ground at taking her hand, he led her out of the kitchen. As he passed Aylwen and the newcomers once again, he took note that they had both come into the stable briefly to put their horses away. I must speak with them later and see if there are any special instructions they'd like to give me as to the care of their horses, he thought. And I must have them introduce me to their steeds. They look like they are both fine beasts.

When he entered the stable again, Anwir approached him and informed him that he had finished grooming Mihtig, and the boy also glanced curiously at Mærcwen. Leofan went to Mihtig's stall and looked the stallion over, then nodded in satisfaction. "Well done, lad," he said. "You have natural talent in the care of horses." He directed Anwir to the stall of another horse, a mare, who Leofan had seen to be calm and gentle who would do the lad no harm.

"And, Anwir, this is my daughter Mærcwen," Leofan added before he turned away. "She's here to keep you company, since I'll be unable to do so myself. I still have much work to do." He turned his attention to his daughter and said, "Mærcwen, stay near Anwir, and don't go near any horse save this mare here and Mihtig without asking my permission first. And make certain not to go near that horse, there." He gestured to the horse of one of the newcomers. Not the bay, but the other. The mount of the Elven-looking woman. "I do not think he is unfriendly, but he seems to be an energetic horse, and I've already spoken with you about those."

Mærcwen assented in her sweet voice, and then she turned to Anwir and began asking him questions, never giving him enough time to answer before she asked another. Then, when she had finished all her questions, unheeding that she had received no answers, for indeed she had prevented the boy from answering, she began to chatter on about Mihtig, sometimes remaining silent long enough for Anwir to agree with her about how wonderful the stallion once. Smiling fondly at the two, Leofan turned to his work.

[ September 11, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Mythica

09-12-2003, 10:31 AM

Simulntaneously, and coincidentally, yet another glorious head of hair and rebellious horse were on their way to the White Horse inn. The horse was indignant at having it s tail stolen to make up such a glorious head of hair, since Mythica had no real hair of her own to speak of. At one time her hair had been the pride of Edoras, but those days were long past.

Mythica sighed as she recalled her many years of being a beautiful questing orphan. It was so much more difficult to pull off now that she was no longer beautiful. That fact that she had a large family and no real quest had never seemed to matter as long as she had kept her youthful figure and smooth skin.

Looking back at the spells and elvish incantations she had tried over the years she was surprised that her looks had faded at all. One of those poems was bound to have made her immortally gorgeous. The horse snorted and flicked what was left of his tail in disgust. Mythica shook her wig in sympathy.

The sun was glinting off of her faded elven jeweled gown as she rode up to the inn. The stable was full of horses and all, Mythica's horse noticed, had their tails. Mythica knew that such spirited animals could only belong to other questing orphans.
"Finally," she thought, "some kindred spirits."

[ September 12, 2003: Message edited by: Mythica ]

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

09-12-2003, 04:22 PM

Anwir smiled at Mærcwen and continued grooming the mare, who stood quietly during this intrusion into her privacy and chewed on some hay. Mærcwen chattered constantly until Anwir interrupted her with the question "Do you want to try grooming her? She's a very kind animal."

Mærcwen gave Anwir a big smile and nodded, saying "Oh, this horse is so beautiful! And I do love her so! Isn't she sweet? Where are you from? What are your parents like? Do you have any brothers or sisters, Anwir?"

The boy was about to answer when Mærcwen grabbed the brush and began stroking the mare's side, still bombarding him with questions. All Anwir could do was smile and nod as the girl fired questions at him faster than a galloping horse. He picked up a comb and began working a tangle out of the mare's mane, grunting when he finally got it out. Mærcwen watched him and said, "Wow, Anwir! You're really good with horses, just like my Papa said!"

VanimaEdhel

09-12-2003, 04:38 PM

Windheneb and Castar heard voices coming from downstairs. It seemed as though the Inn was beginning to fill up. The two had been talking about the weather and various problems with business, trying to pass the time until it seemed as though the Inn was crowded enough to go downstairs to join the bustle. Hopefully the noise they now heard was the raucous merriment of Inn patrons and not just the staff preparing the Inn for customers.

"Shall we go down?" Windheneb asked, nodding towards the door. Castar shrugged, saying that it could not hurt.

The two made their way down the stairs. Castar saw Aylwen out of the corner of his eye and caught her arm as she was about to bustle by him.

"May we just grab any available seat?" he asked her quietly. She nodded, apologizing and saying she had to be moving along and that she could not really stay to chat. Castar nodded and bade her farewell. He and Windheneb then found an empty table in the corner. They caught a woman's eye and she came to get their drink orders.

"It is not full yet," Windheneb said, smiling at the girl and nodding to the room.

"It will be," the girl said hurriedly, looking around, "And it won't take too long."

Windheneb nodded, thanking the girl for taking the drink orders and smiling again. The girl smiled quickly, then ran off to place their orders.

"She is cute," Windheneb said. Castar just rolled his eyes. He was keeping an eye on Aylwen, himself. He watched her run around the Inn. She had so much to do, yet she managed to do it all. How could she be so efficient? Castar could never even dream of having that much control and yet being so calm and organized. Maybe she would have time later to talk with Castar...

Castar found himself blushing at the thought as their drinks came to the table.

Aylwen Dreamsong

09-12-2003, 08:02 PM

Afternoon in Edoras began to defiantly fade away into dusk, fighting for sunlight as evening drew nearer. The shoppers in at the market finished buying their last-minute needs and desires before bustling on home. Soon after, many shopkeepers packed up their things and found a place to stay the night and rest for their trek home the next day. The White Horse Inn became busier and more crowded in no time at all, keeping the staff on their feet with little or no time to spare.

Aylwen had been speaking to a traveler looking for a place to stay, and had hardly gotten out, "How may I help you?" before Leofan had come in asking about Frododides. Aylwen had kindly told him where his wife was, and had proceeded to show the newcomer a room, and brought the traveler downstairs for a drink and some food.

Aylwen had shown several more customers the way to rooms or empty tables, and had taken a few orders to Froma before she was stopped by Castar and Windy. Aylwen had almost continued by them in hectic haste, but Castar had gently grasped her arm to stop her. When Aylwen had taken care of his question, she had politely apologized for not having enough time to speak with them. She felt slightly guilty as Castar and Windy sat down, but she was quickly jostled from her thoughts as worked called for her again.

"Aylwen!" Someone called, though the Assisstant Innkeeper could not quite see or tell who. "Another customer!"

Aylwen walked back to the entryway desk and was met with the face of yet another stranger. The strange woman's hair was the same dark color as Aylwen's, and the woman looked content and yet falsely confident.

"And how may I help you tonight?" Aylwen asked in a friendly manner, checking to see how many rooms were left for the night. The inn was filling up fast, and Aylwen could scarcely hear the hustle and bustle that was always heard in the kitchen over the noise in the main hall of the White Horse.

"I'm looking for a place to stay..."

"Well you're in luck, aren't you? We've got rooms to spare, so just follow me and I'll show you a room if you please..." Aylwen replied cheerfully, waiting for a nod from the woman. Aylwen led the woman to a smaller room that had been freshly cleaned by Delia that morning, and invited the woman downstairs for refreshment and good company. The woman agreed and took one of the few remaining seats in the main hall.

Aylwen, noticing that no one new had entered the Inn and knowing that someone would come to her if they had a problem, went over to where Castar and Windheneb were contentedly sipping their drinks and flirting with Delia (though it was mostly Windy doing the flirting, of course). Aylwen walked over and sat down next to Castar, smiling happily at her little break from work as Assisstant Innkeeper.

"Crowded tonight! Everything is fine, I trust?" Aylwen greeted breathlessly, noticing Castar folding and unfolding a small piece of parchment. Curious as to what it was, Aylwen ventured to ask. "What's that, Castar?"

"Oh, it is the translation that I had wanted for the cloth! The face painter translated it for me!" Castar replied merrily, unfolding the paper again and quickly rereading it. "Would you like to see it?" Castar asked, and when Aylwen nodded eagerly he handed the paper to her.

"As the Ages pass and Mountains move,
One truth only shall remain eternal.
Love may fade or last, leaves fall or grow,
Yet this one truth shall be.
Fair kindred fall, eternal yet,
But lives not longer than this truth.
What remains, the wise may ask,
When all the Earth is gone?
Remember now the eternal truth,
That nothing, in fact, is eternal..."

Aylwen read, intrigued and slightly puzzled at the same time.

"I think it would have been better if we had just left it untranslated. Left it a mystery..." Windy muttered at Aylwen's recital, and yet the flirt continued to wink and smile at Delia when the girl walked by. Castar was past the point of noticing or commenting on Windy's ways, but listened for what Aylwen had to say about it.

"I'm not quite sure I understand it completely, but I still think it sounds beautiful. And I think it is better than never knowing what it means at all," Aylwen conveyed her thoughts, handing the parchment back to Castar. Suddenly curious about something else, Aylwen asked, "How long will you be staying in Edoras, Castar? Windy?"

[ September 13, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

[ September 13, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

Taralphiel

09-13-2003, 12:49 AM

"I'm in the house Lachlan, come and help an old man out."

Lachlan headed into the mans workshop, where he found him struggling with a hefty chest. Putting his arms under it, he helped lift it out of the way.

Inquiring after the kegs, Lachlan saw all the chests and various things scattered about. With a tilt of the head he asked "What is all the stuff in there? Are you trying to break into the merchant business?"

"Nay, those items belong to my sister. She just came today and left me with all of that. As for your kegs, today was market day and I've been trying to add a bit on the house for my sister, so I've only got one left but it's not of the best quality. Not too good looking for selling purposes, not bad for storage though. I'll make you some better ones if you want to come back tomorrow. What say you?"

'Ah, that'll be fine!' smiles Lachlan 'Im in need of fine and not so fine kegs now that I recall it all. Some are for the longer stroage y'see.' He followed Lowfel out back to his workshop, and inspected the kegs he had.

'Aye, these will do well friend' he said as he began hauling them. Within little time enough were loaded. Taking a breather on a bench and wiping his forhead he saw that more of these chests were yet to be dragged in.

'It seems my strength is needed in many places of late my friend. I have naught to do for the rest of the day, so I'll help ye with the rest of this stuff'

'Thankyou very much' smiled Lowfel 'I was wondering what stranger I would ask' he laughed.

'Say, with all this work for you, you'll be needing a little rest. And Im sure that your sister will too. There are plenty of spare seats at my family table tonight if you'd like? Father always enjoys seeing you? Let me return in kind eh?'

Kryssal

09-14-2003, 03:29 AM

Lowfel didn't have to think long.

"Well, I think I'll just take you up on that. I'm sure my sister would love to come as well. Home cooking is always better than Inn food, but don't let it out that I said that," the carpenter finished with a wink.

Lachlan laughed and clapped Lowfel on the shoulder. "I may just hold that over your head sometime. Lets get going, shall we?"

Lowfel smiled and led the way back into the house.

~~~

Lachlan waved as he took his load toward his own home. Lowfel waved back as the younger man called out, "Don't be too long, I'm sure supper is already brewing."

~~~

The lights in the White Horse Inn were bright and welcoming. It looked to be another good night, but Lowfel was just trying to find his sister. He didn't know which Inn she had gone to stay since she was supposed to go to the house tomorrow and tell him. He had already stopped at one that was luckily not too far away. Thinking that she wouldn't have traveled too far to get a room for her and the baby, Lowfel was hoping that she was staying at this Inn, otherwise he'd have to run all over Edoras.

Right as he was about to walk through the doors Shrae stepped through them herself with Reen in her arms.

"Lowfel!" she exclaimed. "I thought I was going to see you tomorrow."

He smiled and patted the wide-eyed Reen. "We got invited to dinner. Where were you going?"

"We, what? Oh, we were going for our evening walk. What do you mean we were invited to dinner? With whom?" Shrae moved to the side to let another person through the door and started to follow her brother as he walked down the street.

"The son of an Alemaster who I know helped me move some of your things so I can build easier and then invited us to eat with his family," Lowfel spoke easily as they walked.

"I hope his parents don't mind," Shrae was thinking of the extra food and places needed.

Lowfel chuckled. "Don't worry so, his mother a very generous woman and wouldn't be happy if we turned down her excellent cooking. It's a beautiful night out, no?"

A cool breeze sprang up and blew out Shrae's skirt from her feet. Reen twisted about in her arms, but just to see everything, not to escape.

"It's very different from the little village. Isn't this the way to your shop?" she looked around trying to get her bearings in the new city.

"It is one of the ways. The Alemaster isn't too far from the carpenter, see?"

Shrae nodded and the two siblings lasped into silence, simply enjoying the coolness of the night.

At length Lowfel broke the stillness. "Do you miss your old home?"

"Well of course I do, but I don't long to go back," Shrae responded immediately. "I don't want Reen to have to grow up with that kind of history. Besides, the only reason I didn't go with you in the first place was because Jesel couldn't bare to have me leave. Then Trein died and she followed... Th..the city will be good for both Reen and I."

Lowfel put his arm around her and squeezed her far shoulder. "I am glad you decided to come."

They smiled at each other and soon they were approaching a house that had a rather large barn-like building to one side. A young man in his early twenties was coming out to greet him with a younger girl sitting on his foot as he walked shrilling with laughter at the ride.

"It's not very dignified I know, but she insisted on coming along. You must be Lowfel's sister," he put out a hand to shake, "I'm Lachlan."

He was very handsome with his shaggy blond hair and fine tan. Shrae shook his hand with firmness while holding Reen with one arm. "My name is Shrae, and this is Reen."

"Lowfel," Lachlan admonished. "You didn't tell me there would be a charming baby coming. You know this means you three will have to stay extra long while Mother steals Reen for coddling. Ah, me, but he is cute," the young alemaster bent down and smiled at Reen who promptly stuck his head into Shrae's chest.

"He's just a little shy," Shrae said in explanation over Lowfel's and Lachlan's laughter.

Bêthberry

09-14-2003, 04:00 AM

And so, with the late afternoon sun shining hotly, Bethberry and Madi had made their way out of the Inn and towards the vegetable garden at the back. Madi's gleeful shouts of "Botato trees! Botato trees!", however, were halted suddenly as who should appear unexpectedly from the back of the Inn but the very girl who had bowled him over near the Market, Aiyanna.

"Rainbow girl," hissed Madi, as he pulled furiously on Bethberry's hand, trying to drag her back towards the safety of the Inn. "Come away with Madi," he pleaded, especially when Aiyanna herself tried to approach Madi with profuse apologies.

"No, Madi, stop," chided the Landlady gently. "Aiyanna will not hurt us, at least, not intentionally. She has her own worries now. Come, listen to them, for she and I spoke earlier before I found you. I know why she ran into you at the Market this afternoon. She had no intention of pushing you over; she was terribly upset about some news at home and wasn't watching where she was going."

Madi glared at the girl. "Leave Berry alone," he growled, still holding furiously onto the Innkeeper's arm but now holding his ground.

"I, I, I'm sorry, little man," spoke up the girl, taken aback by the stubborn challenge in Madi's eyes, his entire face looking really quite menacing now, with his jaw pushed defiantly forward, teeth protruding from curled lips. Aiyanna even stepped back a pace or two.

"Perhaps, Bethberry, I should talk to you later."

"Yes, later," said Madi. "Berry's busy now."

Bethberry looked down at Madi with much surprise at the change which had come over him. She knelt beside him, picking up his other hand and holding both together, in hers.

"Madi, you and I will have our time for planting, I promise you. Right now let's listen to Aiyanna. She faces a frightening situation. She was running away from something she didn't like, from a situation where she thought she might be hurt. Can you understand that, Madi?"

Bethberry placed one hand on Madi's face, cupping his cheek and jaw in her hand, gently stroking it with her thumb. Madi did not move. He had never felt a hand on his face that gentle before, at least, not that he could remember. He didn't nod, but he didn't argue any more either. He let out a loud puff of air, more a snort than a breath.

"Come, let's the three of us go sit in the garden. There are benches and old stumps to sit upon. Tell me, Aiyanna, do you feel better about this arranged marriage now that you have had a few calm hours to sit quietly and think? No one will find you here if you do not wish."

"I can see it better in perspective, now, Bethberry. I have nothing more to say except I guess I can understand why my father wants this now. I never thought of it, you know? I just want to be a falconer."

"Perhaps that can still come to pass. It can be discussed as part of the arrangements, no?"

"I never thought about that."

Just at that moment, Wyrd flew down over the garden. He tried to pick at some of the apple pips which Madi had dropped, but Madi shooed the falcon up into the air. "Madi's pips," he shouted adamantly.

"Hey," said Aiyanna. "Let me take him away from those for you." She whistled slightly and nodded her head twice. Wyrd flew towards her outstretched hand. At a sign from Bethberry, the falcon spread his wings and circled up to roost on the lower roof of backroom kitchen. Aiyanna's face broke into a large, broad smile.

"Can I take him out to practice, Bethberry?" The Innkeeper nodded, gave Aiyanna a reassuring smile and quick hug, and the girl ran off, Wyrd following after her in the sky. Bethberry laughed.

"I'm not sure it's Wyrd who will be getting the practice, Madi," she chuckled. Then she turned back to the little man.

"Shall we find a good place to plant those pips, Madi?" With a bit of a curt sniff, he nodded yes.

They walked over to the east side of the garden, near Froma's heap of vegetable peelings. Madi bent low and tasted the earth. It was warm and soft; it had been well tended in the spring when the Inn's Landlady had had time for raking, hoeing, digging and seeding. Now it broke open easily with trowel and spade. Bethberry's and Madi's skin took on a sheen with a light sweat from the mild heat of the sun as they dug. At first, neither spoke as they developed a rhythm for digging a small hole, placing a pip or two carefully into it, and then mounding the earth lightly over it. Finally Bethberry said something.

"See, Aiyanna turned out all right in the end, didn't she?"

Madi frowned up at her. "This time lucky," he retorted.

Bethberry chuckled. "She saved your pips for you, didn't she? All she needed was someone to listen to her tell her fears and she was able to calm down. A hug for hug's sake."

Madi wrinkled his face as he looked up at her. He said nothing but busied himself with the digging.

"But what were you so scared about Madi? What made you so angry back there?"

Madi looked over at Berry, who was kneeling on the ground, her brown tunic covering her knees which were partially buried in the soft brown earth.

"Berry's not mad at Madi?" he asked.

"No, why should I be?" She smiled and then bent over the earth, placing more pips into the small holes Madi had just made and covering them over. A small, slight noise made her look up.

Madi moved hesitantly towards her. Then, swiftly, his arms outstretched. He caught hold of Bethberry around her shoulders and unexpectedly cradled his large head beside her neck on her left shoulder. Surprised, Bethberry let her trowel fall to the earth. She took up and cradled his shoulders and head softly with her arms. Just then, Ruthven's worried voice came back into her ears.

And as Madi hugged Bethberry, she noticed over his shoulder the row of small dirt mounds which marked the seed beds of his apple pip collection. And in her mind she saw a long row of apple trees, their blossoms shimmering in the same moonlight which had shone over Madi's arrival at The White Horse Inn. For some reason, the image made her ineluctably sad. She looked upon Madi with worry and tried to return his hug.

[ November 07, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

VanimaEdhel

09-14-2003, 01:24 PM

"I live here...well, in Edoras, anyway," Windheneb said, watching Delia pass and smiling at her. "What's her name anyway?" he asked, nodding at Delia.

"You do not even know her name?" Aylwen said, a hint of teasing in her voice. "She is Delia."

"Ah, what a beautiful name," Windheneb said, smiling a bit.

"You'd say it was a beautiful name if she turned out to be called Gantag," Castar pointed out. "And I will probably be returning home tomorrow. Unless there is some reason that I should stay, that is."

He looked at Aylwen and smiled a little, then blushed. Castar wondered if his parents could last another day without him. He did not have to go home, did he?

"No particular reason," Aylwen said, chuckling, "But you are fun to have around. Anyway, who will be here to protect me from Windy?"

Windheneb was making eye-signals with Delia from across the room. At the mention of his name, however, he turned around. "Huh? What? I didn't do it. I swear."

Castar snorted as he pushed a stray strand of hair out of his face. Windheneb looked at him questioningly. "We were speaking of your love for Delia...and all other women. I may stick around for another day, just to make sure you do not wind up taken by guards for flirting with the wrong girl."

"I would not flirt with the wrong girl," Windheneb said dejectedly, "I am an expert."

"Speaking of expert," Aylwen said, "I have to check to make sure I am not needed. I will be back shortly if not."

As Aylwen bustled off, Castar finished his ale. He called Delia over and asked her for a refill. Windheneb made a comment to Castar about pining over his recently-departed love, Aylwen. Castar glared at him but took the ale enthusiastically once it was brought to him.

Bêthberry

09-18-2003, 09:01 AM

Belin Ibaimendi's post

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Don't mind him," said Wingesith, with an attempt at a reassuring-but not too familiar- smile, curbing his alarm at the woman's upset face. He had to calm her down before she decided to make a fuss. He wasn't sure whether it was Fremman's zeal for cabbages, change, or women that had done it, but in any of these cases, they could hardly afford to get in trouble now. He shot him a single evil look before assuming his most pleasant face and voice to explain matters to the woman. "I apologize for my colleague," he said, "he has certain difficulties, you see. It makes the company of the unfamiliar difficult to him. I do not think it is his intention to be impolite."

The woman eyed him skeptically. "You mean he's drunk?"

Wingesith bowed, quickly and almost involuntarily. "Many have speculated along those lines," he murmured politely and vaguely, unwilling to speak of his colleague's faults to an outsider.

"They might by thinking of the smell," she suggested in a dry voice. Was that a shade of amusement in her voice? Wingesith grinned broadly. "Oh, no, you don't understand. We're performers, we do this for our show. Fremman here is the Drunken King himself. perhaps you've heard of us?" The woman shook her head. Fremman chose this moment to giggle loudly, ignoring his colleague's glare. "Sometimes, you see, people have don't look at me like that. Fremman, there's no reason they shouldn't have. We've been everywhere, somebody must have heard of us by now. Certainly their 'tokens of appreciation' suggest as much."

The woman's face had composed itself into unreadable politeness. Wingesith took this as an encouragement and continued. "Fortune and fame, you see, ma'am, fortune and fame. The life of a traveling actor is a not a dull one. Why, I've been places and seen things you wouldn't believe if I told you."

"Oh, I have no doubt of that." She was definitely smiling now, just a little, just a little, but she was smiling.

"You should hear them," he pressed on eagerly. "Why, in the town of Htirit, where they throw crockery out the windows to celebrate their weddings, the square was so full they had to close the shops. Not that anyone minded, you see, they were all pushing and shoving to see the show. Ah, the coin we gathered that day? I take no credit, of course," he added quickly, "but the worth of the show itself is indisputable, and they just had to see it. Fremman helped me design it, you see. You do not know him until you understand his genius."

Fremman nodded in agreement, blinking slowly at the woman and failing to brush off a large fly that had settled on his brow.

"You should come to our show next time. You would like it, I can tell. It's in your face."

"I'm sure it would be a delight," answered the woman, "but I'm afraid I'll be up in the inn for several days, longer than you'd care to stay in town, I'm sure."

"I like inns," put in Fremman.

"The inn?" said Wingesith, with a sudden eagerness. "There'd be no jugglers in the inn, and the audience wouldn't be so obssessed with vegetables and with keeping the ways clear. "That's an idea. I'm sure they could use a bit of entertainment up that way, couldn't they? We'll accompany you, you don't want to be out here with the cutpurses, you know."

"Oh, I don't think that will be?"

"For company then. Everyone can use some company, don't you agree? My name is Wingesith," he added, as he took a few steps to show that he was in earnest. "Er... and you do know which way it is, correct?"

[ September 27, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

The X Phial

09-18-2003, 10:14 AM

The inn was starting to fill up when Aldhelm entered. A quick glance showed him that the regulars were there as well as several new faces. He wondered how many would settle here and how many were passing through. Maybe there were some new friends in the crowd..and new customers as well.

Whatever the status of the newcomers, he had no time to meet them now. Aldhelm's scan of the crowd had not picked up on Bethberry, the object of his search. He would have to look further abroad than the front room to offer his invitation.

He found her coming down a hallway from what he remembered as a door to the garden. She had a small, strange-looking man with her who sniffed at Aldhelm and then said nothing, clearly unsure what to make of the miller.

"Good evening Miss Bethberry," he started. "I wonder if you would accept an invitation to the mill tomorrow. Maedlyn's not up to the drive into town, what with her condition and all, and I know she has missed having some female company. She asked for you, especially."

Bethberry smiled back. "I would love to come, but I do need to check with Alwyn before I say for sure. After all, the inn doesn't run itself. Have a seat in the main room, and I will be with you soon."

Aldhelm nodded and backtracked to a small table in the hall. He waved away the offer of dinner, but ordered an ale. It had just arrived when Bethberry reappeared at his side.

"It seems I have a day free for visiting. I would be happy to spend some time at the mill tomorrow," Bethberry smiled at him.

"Ah, I'm glad to hear it, and Maedlyn will be too! Lathyn will be thrilled to have someone to try her new honey cake on, as well. Shall I send Deol for you in the morning?"

"Spare him the trip," she laughed. "I can make my own way there."

"Splendid! I look forward to seeing you tomorrow then."

"And I you." And with that the innkeeper faded back into the crowd.

Aldhelm finished his ale and walked back out to his cart. Deol was waiting for him. The boy had declined to come into the inn, saying he had something to check in the kitchen. His face was a mask of confusion at the moment. Whatever was bothering him, though, he quickly hid it when he noticed Aldhelm looking at him. The miller knew that something had not gone as well as the boy had planned, but knew better than to ask his apprentice. He remembered being 16.

"Back to the mill, Deol. Market day is over, at least for us, and we have women waiting for us."

The comment earned a sharp look from the apprentice, but no comment in return. Aldhelm was too busy looking forward to getting home to notice.

Taralphiel

09-19-2003, 01:50 AM

Lachlan watched with a great smile as Reen enjoyed playing with all the food set in front of him. His younger brothers and sisters all squealed and played around him, and his mother slowly herded them back to their food.

Leaning towards Lowfel he said 'They have found a new play thing! They will be entertained by his eating for a while!' Lowfel laughed and said 'It certainly seems so'

Lachlans mother served more food out to all with cheer 'Eat up! You all need your strength by the looks of things! Theres plenty to go around I assure you.'

Lachlan enjoyed the warm comfort of the large dining room, and laughed at the sight of Lowfel playing hide and seek with one of his sisters. Shrae also watched with much amusement.

'Your brothers always been this bad at this game?' he said with a laugh

'I remember so' Shrae chuckled.

'Ach! I canna' compete here!' he said falling into his chair and reaching for his mug of ale.

The night continued long and the three retreated outside as the children were being put to bed.

'I told ye Reen would be taken away by Mother' he smiled at Shrae. 'No doubt she'll be wanting to see more of him, if youre willing'

'That would be helpful' smiled Shrae

Lowfel turned to his sister and grinned 'Well, your welcome to Edoras seems complete sister'

'Ah yes! I hope this makes your stay all the warmer' said Lachlan with a great smile, lifting his mug.

Kryssal

09-20-2003, 05:15 AM

Lowfel eyed Lachlan playfully. "You make it sound as if she were only visiting. If that were the case I wouldn't be building so much," he finished with a chuckle.

Shrae felt a little blood rush to her cheeks and she urgently tried to supress the blush.

"Lowfel, if I am to start on engravings I need to get some sleep. I'm sure Reen is getting tired himself," she hated breaking up the wonderful night, but practicality had set in her mind.

"Engravings?" Lachlan's eyebrows rose.

"Ah," the carpenter lighted. "In addition to her wonderful company she is going to be providing her talents of engraving on my pieces. So, if you need anything marked with a pretty design or a practical one, like perhaps a family brand on your finest kegs or a new sign post for your ale shop, she's the girl. First thing I'm going to have her do is make me a new sign," Lowfel finished with a wink at his sister.

Shrae just stood up with her eyes pierced together at her brother in a jest he only knew too well. Just then Lachlan's mother came in carrying Reen who immediatly stretched out his arms for Shrae to grab. She obliged the little tot and promptly kissed his squirming head.

"You must bring him over to visit, young miss Shrae," the mother bubbled.

"I will," Shrae smiled in return and turned to her brother to see if he was leaving as well. He grunted as he stood.

"It was a lovely meal, thank you for having us," Shrae smiled again at her host, with her brother nodding at her side.

"It was wonderful to have you. Make sure you come back."

Lachlan and his mother walked them to the door and waved them off with more goodbyes.

Writer of The Mark

09-22-2003, 02:43 PM

Idona lifted her skirt while climbing the few stairs before taking a firm grip of the doorhandle belonging to the heavy door. She dropped her pencil down on the ground in the attempt. The door slapped shut again, in her face. 'Typical,' she muttered picking the pencil up. She went for the door again, this time, succeeding.

The cosy atmosphere was impossible not to enjoy. The Inn was filled with people and Idona felt the different smells of food, the fire and people stream into her nostrils. She had entered a whole new world. Outside, the sun had been shining and it was way too warm for what Idona herself thought she could handle. In here, on the other hand, it was cooler than outside. However, there was this friendly warmth, which made Idona feel comfortable, even though she didn't know anyone . The Innkeeper, Bêthberry she had greeted a couple of times when she had spent her afternoons at The Horse drawing but Idona did not recognize anyone else.

Idona stepped forwards taking her brown hood off.

'A bowl of soup,' she said drawing the attention of the serving maid. 'And some bread to go with that, please,' she added before settling herself by the fire, her favorite place. Idona caught the eye of the cook Froma, who was very skilled in the kitchen the Rohan woman thought. Every time Idona had been here, the food had always been better than expected.

She took her drawing out; it was almost finished. Until now she had mainly focused on the architecture. However, today she would do her final preparations before giving it to her grandmother for a birthday present. Therefore it was natural that her eyes were laid upon people, both young and old.

Idona's grandmother, Eir had told her granddaughter so many stories about her youth and how she would sit at this Inn talking to complete strangers, getting to know the history, politics and other events about Rohan and the distant lands beyond. 'When I was young,' Eir used to say, 'I was always here, having a splendid time!' Eir would talk on and on about the place.

Idona heard her grandmother's words ringing in her ears, while trying to concentrate at the drawing. After Eir grew ill, she had not been able to visit the Horse, something that bothered both grand-mother and grand-daughter.

On the drawing, the figure of a man was soon formed, by the many lines Idona quickly made. She placed him at one of the benches drinking his ale, while talking merrily to another man just beside him. Thereafter, the nose and the plain looks in his face appeared. Idona was sketching eagerly.

'Your soup, I believe.' The serving maid Theora sat the bowl of hot soup in front of Idona.

She thanked the maid and gave her some silver coins. Theora gave a smile before she trudged on, probably going to serve another customer. Idona realized how hungry she was and laid her pencil and paper away. 'Hot,' she muttered, making a grimace as she tasted the soup. She ate her bread in a hurry, taking up her unfinished drawing again.

~-~ ********************* ~-~

'And what is the lady drawing?'

It was a friendly voice coming from someone Idona thought looked vaguely familiar. She stared into the man's face, gazing, trying to figure where she had seen him before. An analysis of the man ran through her head causing an explosion in there. Ah well, she couldn't figure out who it was. Maybe it was just her imagination.

'Sorry,' she stammered. 'I am trying to make a drawing of the Inn,' she said, looking around. 'A present,' she added. Idona explained about her grandmother loving this Inn so much and how pleased she would be to 'experience' the Horse, after so many years.

'Oh, I see. May I?' Without reply from the lady he took the pencil, gave it a wave and ran it smoothly over the paper. 'You see? The man gets a bit more 'alive'.' He said showing it to her. Idona couldn't do anything but smile; it was clear that this man was good.

'Very nice,' she assured him. The man gave a nod.

'Oh, how rude of me. I haven't even introduced myself. I am Idona,' she said while sighing. How could she forget such an important thing?

He stretched out his hand to take hers. 'And I am your cousin, Hallam'

[ September 30, 2003: Message edited by: Writer of The Mark ]

Bêthberry

09-24-2003, 08:14 PM

Manardariel's post about Mia:

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sun was setting over Rohan. The last rays of the spectacular evening sun shone right into into Froma´s clean kitchen, and also into Mia´s face. She blinked, letting herself be carressed by the warm light for awhile. Dierna had fallen asleep in her basket. Everything seemed warm and peaceful, and it would have been- were it not for that nagging feeling in Mia´s stomach. She was worried. Her anger at Bethberry had gone off in a haze, she understood the Innkeeper perfectly. But she was still worried. Very worried. Her request for a time off, it had been utterly stupid. She wouldn´t blame the misstress if she missunderstood it- it had seemed like an excuse to get herself fired. And what would she do then? Besides the fact that she really liked her job- she needed the money. Better no birthday party in one year than going hungry forever.

Mia leaned outside of the kitchen windows. The cildren were huddled together, maybe playing a guessing game. But then she noticed Fianna´s shining eyes, and the piece of candy with a feather sticking in it. With tears in her eyes, Mia watched as Fianna filled her cheeks with air and blew out the 'candle'. Fianna was beaming. And suddenly she realized that it wasn´t entirely in her hands if the kids were happy. She could only do her best, but she didn´t have to do it all. Some things were out of her hands. But what mattered most now was her job.

"Froma, is there anything I can do?" she called over. He shook his head. "Not in the moment. I´ll let you know." Perfect . She walked across the kitchen, luckily finding one of the slates the servants sometimes used to remind themselves of their tasks. She quickly took it and a piece of chalk. When she had been a child, an old lady had told her writing. Her letters were wobbly, but she knew what to say, and her spelling wasn´t all that bad. She put her tounge between her teeth and wrote a letter.

Mistress Bethberry,

I hope you get this note. I just want to let you know that I´m sorry about this afternoon. I understand why you didn´t let me go home for Fianna. Please don´t think I don´t want to work at the Inn. I do, very much. Thank you for having me. It´s a good thing, and a blessing for us. I know the children and I sometimes cause trouble, but that's not meant badly, ma´am. I think you know that though. Like I said, I´m very sorry I was so cheeky this afternoon. I meant no harm, and I wasn´t really using my head. It won´t happen again.

Your humble servant,
Mialynn (Mia)

There, that would have to do. She hoped Bethberry would understand, but right now, all she could do was wait. She slipped the 'letter' in Bethberry´s pile on the front desk as the Innkeeper was chatting with a guest. Then she returned to the kitchen, where Froma kept her busy for quite awhile.

But for all that time, her thoughts were with the front desk- and with her letter.

[ September 28, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Bêthberry

09-26-2003, 06:45 AM

The second post about Hallam and Idona, from Writer of The Mark.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He stretched out his hand to take hers. 'And I am your cousin, Hallam.'
Idona gazed at him making big eyes. As if time had stopped, she slowly tried to digest the heavy load of information she had just been given by this... this...this, Stranger?

"Oh noooo," she started making the words just float in the thin air. She shook her head from side to side, trying to imagine this being some kind of a hoax. Idona repeated herself still letting the words float and not letting the man speak. Who was he really? And if he was who he claimed to be her cousin Hallam, why did he then introduce himself to her with such pride?

She waited a moment; she had no words, only thoughts, memories and.... Hallam didn't say anything either. He hadn't really expected this kind of reaction towards his introduction.

"Why do.." Idona started. An embarrassing silence filled the air again. "Why do you introduce yourself with such pride?" she asked. Her thoughts were making words, floating out of her thin lips, now sealing themselves; she wanted to say no more.

Hallam tried to find words too, but it was obviously just as hard for him as it
was to her. "If you are who you say you are, I do wonder why you are here. What business has you here when you are unwanted?" Idona spoke in a cold and bitter voice. She was bitter. Hallam stood unsympathetic to the lady's reply. Idona grew frustrated by this attitude, if she could call this an attitude at all. This man seemed so ignorant, and he acted as if he was a hopeless little child.

You shouldn't be here," she said having a tendency of anger in her voice. "You
shouldn't be anywhere," she continued, pressing her lips tight shut. "But," Hallam started. Idona interrupted him eagerly, taking her drawing under her arm and the pencil safe in her pocket. "But, what? There shouldn't be any 'but', if you are who you claim," she raised, but her cousin took a firm grip of her arm: "Will you not listen?" Idona grinned at him. "I doubt there is anything worth listening too," she said, making the young man's fingers slip her thin arm.

She started walking with in great speed hurrying away from the table the man still sat by. He walked after. "I've come to make up," he cried after her. The lady didn't stop. She would never stop to listen to this fool, who had ruined her life and now he was back; tearing up her wounds which seemed finally to have healed.

Idona rushed out of the door, having a crowd looking after as she walked out. The warm air hit her. It was alright now; she was out of there. She could breathe. Hallam, however, didn't seem to give up that easily. "Idona!" He hurried down the stairs and after the Rohan lady. Inside, she felt her rage grow. Her cousin caught up with her as she was just to explode. "Hallam, I never wish to see you again. I want you to leave and never should you be seen by my eyes again." Her cousin let her go. Idona's cool voice and the look in her eyes had made it clear to the man that this statement was real; she would never take it back.

However, she did feel sorry for the man; he had taken a life, and now he had no life.

Idona walked slowly away from the man, turning her back towards him. As she went, she never turned around to see what became of her cousin, Hallam. And he neither, tried to catch up with his childhood-friend, Idona ever again.

[ October 26, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Bêthberry

09-26-2003, 07:40 AM

The sun had long since set in one of those glorious early summer explosions of colour. The White Horse Inn was quiet with the muffled noises of very late evening.

Talan had started his check to ensure that all the doors of both Inn and stable were locked and windows closed. Guests were tucked away safely in their rooms--Etheldreda had taken one of the smaller rooms on the third floor as she wished to conserve her small bit of coin, Aiyanna was in her room at the back, where few knew her whereabouts; Madi had disappeared somewhere; Ruthven taken her leave of Bethberry long ago; Shae had returned with her little charge; Leofan's family were sleeping; all the maids were abed as well.

Froma was rolling out the dough for tomorrow's bread and buns and pastries; the scent of yeast wafted through the air. The roaring flames of the great fireplace in the meadhall had been dampened but not extinguished. The two innkeepers, Bethberry and Aylwen, were taking tea, sitting by the front desk and making plans for Bethberry's absence.

"I shan't be gone long, several days at the most," Bethberry informed Aylwen.

"Do you think you will stay for Maedlyn's laying in?" asked the younger Innkeeper.

"I'm not sure when her time is due, but if necessary, yes. She's lost two earlier babes and I'm sure it preys upon her mind. And if the bairn arrives, well, she will need extra hands around to help."

"What needs attending to here at the Inn?"

"Just the usual things. We have a good supply of ale, produce, flesh. Remember to check with Froma daily, though, to see if he needs anything. He likes a bit of attention and respect shown to his domain."

Aylwen shook her head, almost yawning.

"I bid you good night, then. I'll be up early and away, so don't look for me in the morning. I am thankful Ælfritha left me the gelding. It is faster to ride than to sit atop a rumbling wagon."

With those words, the two innkeepers parted, Aylwen off to her room and Bethberry carrying the dishes to the scullery, where she bid adieu to Froma as well.

"Aylwen's in charge while you're gone?" he gruffly inquired.

"Yes, but she will keep an eye on your needs. Don't worry; she knows what she's about."

"That she does. You'll come back and find yourself not needed."

"Likely. It is the way of the world, Froma. All things pass."

"So they do," he replied.

[ September 30, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Manardariel

09-30-2003, 01:09 PM

“Hey, Froma, have you seen Frodides?”

The cook frowned. “I think she was helping clean the windows outside...and NO you can not go see her. I need you here.” Mia rolled her eyes slightly at this and walked back to the basin, resuming her job in drying the breakfast dishes. She needed to talk to Frodides. It was about a plan, a plan she had developed, and she need Frodides´ help with it. Froma left the kitchen for a moment, and Mia half-considered sneaking out of the kitchen while he was away. But then, she still wasn´t sure if she still should be working here. Yeserday evening, she had left the Inn without a message from Bethberry, and today, the Innkeeper had left; without a sign if she had recieved Mia´s note. At least you´re not fired yet! she thought grimly.

But the plan, yes that was another thing. Yesterday night, she had put Fianna to bed. After a goodnight story, she had asked Fianna if she had another, big wish- afterall it was her birthday.
“Well,” the girl had said slowy, her young eyes full of earnesty and hope. “I´d really like to learn how to read!” Mia had smiled sadly, given her birthday girl a kiss and wispered the ritual goodnight-blessing.

Later that evening– it was around nine, and Mia was sitting outside the house, mending socks- the idea had struck her. Why, she COULD fulfill Fianna´s wish. And more than that, she could grant a whle bunch of children the oppurtunity of an education. True, her own spelling wasn´t best, but she still could write.

It´s a big task, but it´s doable- with Frodides. Mia concluded. She dried up the last tin cup, and looked around for an excuse to leave the kitchen. A delivery boy had just appeared with a large box of something-or-other. “Can someone bring this outside by the desk? We need some decoration!” Froma called. Mia grabbed the plants and dashed outside. She put the box down, made sure it was in no ones way- nearly stumbled over Frodides.

“Frodides, hello! I was just looking for you! Look, I have an idea, what would you say to this? I was thinking, wouldn´t it be neat to set up a little school in here for the Inn and the village children? But I´d need your help, and Bethberry or Aylwen´s permission of course..what do you say?”

Nurumaiel

09-30-2003, 07:00 PM

Frodides paused in her work and hesitated a few moments before answering. The idea was good, but before she agreed she had to consider the possibility that it might not work. The only obstacle seemed that two teachers wouldn't be enough for all the children in the village. But if they could get some other guests at the Inn to act as teachers as well, there would certainly be enough. It would provide the children with a chance to a good education, and that was worth the work that would need be put into it.

Smiling encouragingly, Frodides spoke cautiously, trying to keep the idea open that it might not work. "I think it's a wonderful idea, Mia," she said. "However, there are some slight problems that no doubt can be resolved with ease. I will not speak of those yet, until I give the matter enough thought to make certain that they are problems. Why don't you ask Bethberry or Aylwen about it now? I'll go to the kitchen and take over your work while you do so."

Mia gave a smile of thanks and hurried away. Frodides watched her go with a fond expression. Mia was still so young, but look how responsible she was for her young sisters, and how she wanted to help them and the other children of the village. "Hopefully my little daughter will be like that someday," she murmured as she went to the kitchen. "And if she is, there will be some young man who is very lucky to have her as a wife. And a few years forward, Mia will make a good wife and mother."

Frodides thought back to her own days as a young woman, when through her mother's constant eye ever watching and thorough training, she had been one of the most sufficient housekeepers in Edoras. And she remembered a conversation that she was sure she had not been meant to hear, where a certain young man's father had said, "By all means, Leofan, marry the girl, if she'll have you. She's sweet, gentle, and innocent, and above that she'll make an excellent wife and mother."

Thank you, Mother, for what you've done for me, Frodides thought, the words coming from her heart. You died so soon after I was married, but I know you were happy when you did. And I hope that I will raise my own daughter the way you rose me, so she will someday be a wonderful young woman, as you yourself were.

Bêthberry

10-02-2003, 04:38 PM

OOC Announcement

Rohan Game Players and Owners, please welcome two new Game Players to Rohan, Ealasaid/e and Nerindel, whose skilled writing brought such strength to The Shire game Dark Seduction.

Their names have been added to the list of Rohan Game Players.

Glad to see you here, Ealasaide and Nerindel!

Bêthberry,
Moderator for Rohan

[ October 02, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Bêthberry

10-05-2003, 01:24 PM

Bethberry reigned in Cailleach to a slow walk and then turned to look back. The chestnut mare was a good horse, fast when haste was needed, intelligent, and responsive both to her mistress and her mistress's falcon, Wyrd. The mare was happy to stop and rest a bit, enjoying the treat of fresh grasses on the plain rather than the dried hay and mash of the stable.

The early morning sun glinted off the gold roof of Meduseld, a proud sign of Eorlingas workmanship amid the rounded foothills of the mountains. It was all Bethberry could make out of Edoras, that plus a few thatched roofs and the dark, thorn-covered pallisade which surrounded the town, a sharp backdrop for the white flowers which bloomed amid the two rows of barrows which marked the tombs of kings past. Bethberry wondered if any of the travellers arriving at Edoras remarked upon the contrast of the golden roof with the white flowered barrows.

For the first time in all her days in Edoras, the sound of the gate swinging open, to allow her passage out of the town, had given her mixed feelings, perhaps because she had had to argue with the guards to let her leave. Strange that they had been loath to open the gate for her. Perhaps it was their resistance which had made the barrows of the kings auger more than usual.

She was pulled out of her revery by Cailleach walking over to the stream, now running in a wide rutted track amid the uplands. She let the mare drink and then nudged her onwards towards the copse of willow trees which marked the ford of the Snowborne. Wyrd flew leisurely overhead. She would be at Aldhelm's mill within the hour and was looking forward to some tea and honey with Maedlyn.

Aylwen Dreamsong

10-06-2003, 11:29 AM

The next morning dawned crisp and clear in Edoras, and Aylwen had slept in later than she had planned. Bêthberry was long gone, but everyone save Froma and Delia were asleep when Aylwen finally made her way downstairs shortly after sunrise. Aylwen found Delia rummaging around in the supply closet and Froma was preparing his kitchen and getting his ingredients in order for the coming day. Yawning Aylwen went to help Delia find what she was searching for before she went to check the registry to see who would be staying another night.

It was not long before staff and customers began to filter out of the rooms. Talan came out and kindly unfastened the latches on the windows to let a cool morning breeze float through the main hall of the Inn. Iswyn, Mia, and Frododides soon entered the kitchen one by one to help Froma prepare breakfast while Leofan led a tired young Anwir out to the stables to feed the horses. Aylwen remembered Bethberry’s warning about Froma, and went back into the kitchens to speak with the cook.

“Do you need anything back here for today, Froma?” Aylwen asked the man when he was done barking out orders to Iswyn, Mia, and Frododides. He turned back to the Assistant Innkeeper with a thoughtfully grim look upon his face and a finger to his chin.

“Not that I can think of at the moment miss Aylwen, thank you,” Froma finally said before turning away to pull the fresh loaves of bread from the oven. He looked over at Iswyn yawning, and sighed. “But I could use some help who are actually awake and doing their job!” Froma added loudly, trying to get Iswyn’s attention. When the girl realized Froma was talking of her, she mumbled a weary apology and got to work chopping vegetables.

Aylwen smiled and went back out to the main hall in time to see Windheneb flirting with Delia, who was trying to sweep up around the stairs and tables. Aylwen rolled her eyes before noting that several customers were up and waiting for breakfast. The Assistant Innkeeper called for help from some of the maids and began taking orders for Froma from the hungry customers. Talan helped Delia get rid of Windheneb, which would have been a sight for Aylwen to see as Talan got Windheneb to actually sit down next to Castar and stop bothering Delia.

"I thought you said you'd never flirt with the wrong girl, Windy!" Aylwen laughed when she got to his and Castar's table to serve their breakfast. Castar had, indeed, found it quite funny when Talan calmly forced Windy not to bother Delia, and was stifling his laughter when Aylwen continued. "Now Talan's got his eye on you and the door!"

Windheneb proceeded to mumble about something or other and Aylwen went about her serving duties and kindly greeting sleepy customers as they came into the dining hall.

Kryssal

10-07-2003, 04:47 AM

Reen woke up right as the sun hit him, and naturally he made sure that Shrae was awake very shortly after. Attempting to hold in a yawn the young maiden carried her small charge down to one of the tables to get something to eat. Looking around it seemed that Shrae wasn't the only one who didn't like to rise early.

"What can I get you?" a nice young waitress asked.

"Oh," Shrae looked at Reen who was trying to climb onto the table from her lap. "Just some bread, milk and fruit I think."

The serving maid smiled warmly. "I'll have those right out for you."

After a somewhat messy breakfast and quick clean-up, Shrae was off into the city, heading toward her brother's home and workshop. By this time it was getting on in the morning and even late-rising Lowfel had gotten up and was munching on some ill-made breakfast.

"What is that?" Shrae scrunched her nose as she put Reen down so that he could investiagte the floor and chair legs.

"Eggs. What did you think it was?" Lowfel shoveled some more of the apparent eggs into his mouth.

"I reserve comment, besides, weren't you going to show me that board you wanted made into a sign?"

Leaning back after consuming the last of his meal, Lowfel rubbed his hands on his pants earning him a dissaproving look from his sister which he dutifully ignored.

"This way," he said as he snatched up little Reen and gently tossed him in the air while leading the way out to the shop.

The sign he wanted turned out to be a inch thick, huge board that could easily take precedence on an entire wall. Shrae eyed it in her special way.

"What do you want with it exactly?" she commented as she felt the wood, testing it out before she took a tool to it.

"Well, I was thinking about perhaps a list of things that I make and you can do. So the customers can see what they can buy and what you can do to it. Understand?"

"A list of what you can specialise in with another list of all the details I can put to it? That'll take a good while."

Reen made a squeeling noise, gaining laughter from the adults.

"Well," Lowfel said after a moment. "It looks like Reen loves the idea."

"Just wait until I'm working too much on the sign and not giving him enough attention, then he'll really let loose," Shrae retorted as she gathered the baby back into her arms.

Lowfel smiled, gave thanks, and left to work on some barrels in the construction part of his shop.

"Well Mr. Reen, shall we?"

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

10-07-2003, 06:53 PM

Anwir yawned and woke with a start. Where was he? He looked around and saw a nicely-decorated room, where the morning sunlight was filtering through the thin curtains on the window. Slowly the events of the previous day came back to him, and he remembered what had happened. Anwir rubbed the sleep from his eyes and hopped out of the bed. He walked around the room and nearly stumbled upon a sleeping figure that was curled up on the floor. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was Aleia.

"Miss? Miss? Are you awake?" he called quietly. Aleia simply groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket further over her head. Anwir resorted to poking her gently, but to no avail. He gulped, for he was hungry but he didn't want to go downstairs alone and eat by himself. But after trying for fifteen more minutes to rouse the snoozing hobbit, he realized that eating alone was the only way to avoid starving.

He left the room, shutting the door softly, and padded down the hallway towards the staircase. He stepped carefully and slowly down it, peering every so often at the crowd of people in the inn. Mustering up his courage, he stepped up to the bar and said softly, "Can I please have a bowl of porridge?"

His answer was "Have you got any money, lad? Food won't pay for itself!"

Anwir swallowed and looked down, embarassed. As he turned to step away, he heard a voice say loudly, "I'll pay for the boy's breakfast! And bring me some sausages and a nice cup of coffee, please!"

He whirled around and, much to his surprise, saw Aleia grinning at him blearily. "Miss Aleia? But you were sleeping, hard as a rock!" he said, bewildered.

She rolled her eyes, and said "Were, boy! That's the key word!" Their breakfast arrived and Aleia carried it to a table, where they began to eat. Anwir gobbled down his porridge as if he hadn't eaten in weeks. Aleia chewed her sausage thoughtfully, and then swallowed, asking "So, Anwir. How did you like working in the stables yesterday?"

Airerûthiel

10-08-2003, 11:24 AM

Etheldreda had been awake since before dawn, but she had been reluctant to leave her room. She had always been afraid of new people, preferring to stay out of everybody's way. The smell of breakfast wafted up the stairs, seeping through the gap under her door. She had spent the last few minutes being driven wild by the scent, and knew she could resist no longer. Her empty stomach suddenly rumbled so loudly the whole of Edoras could hear it. She quickly dressed in a pair of slightly too-big trousers that had once been her brother's and a faded brown long-sleeved tunic, pulled on her boots and hurried downstairs.

In the dining room there was already a hububb of chatter as the other half-awake guests of the inn worked their way through breakfast. Etheldreda never usually ate much in the mornings - she was far too busy tending to the horses - but she felt strangely ravenous that day. It was unlikely that she would be able to eat again until she returned to the Horse that evening. Today was to be her first day of seeking work in Rohan's capital city.

Aylwen smiled a kind greeting at Etheldreda as the young woman walked over to the bar and placed her order for a bowl of porridge and a cup of hot water. When Etheldreda's mother had been alive, she had professed that drinking hot water was the cure for all ills, starting every day with a cup of the stuff. The girl smiled at the memory of her fair-haired mother - the fair hair that had marked her as not being a blood relation to Etheldreda.

She ate slowly, thinking of where she could seek work as she did so. Maybe she could hire herself out, running odd jobs for people in exchange for a few coins. Or perhaps there would be a peasant family somewhere in the city, looking for a girl to care for young children or look after horses. For a moment Etheldreda's face softened as she thought of her father's stables and the gentle doe-eyed beasts that he was famed for breeding. The warm sweet smell of straw wafted to her nose and she wished with all her heart that she could be back there now.

No. Those days were over; she must put them behind her, for her own good. But at the same time, a doubt was nagging at her. It was more than likely that she would be forced to return to the inn with less and less money for some evenings yet. Although she had taken one of the cheapest rooms, the silver she had left wouldn't last her much more than five days or so. She doubted the innkeepers would let her stay rent-free; it was tough to eke a living in these times, even in such a traveller-frequented city as Edoras.

Of course, that was it! The innkeepers would know of any jobs going. No doubt they would hear plenty of news, both from locals and strangers, and some of that might concern a vacant position somewhere. She drained the last of her water and walked over to Aylwen.

"Excuse me...Aylwen, isn't it?"

Aylwen turned to see a young woman with short-cut black hair and blue-grey eyes standing behind her. The girl was dressed in dark peasant's boys clothes, and her face and hands were like those of one who has worked hard and lived an outdoor life.

"Yes?" said Aylwen, not unkindly. "How can I help you?"

"My name is Etheldreda," the girl said, only glancing up from the floor once or twice. "I was wondering...well, that is to say...do you know of any work going in Edoras? I can clean, cook a little, run any odd jobs that want doing, look after children, and I have lots of experience with horses."

Aylwen thought for a moment. She liked this girl, even if she did seem a little shy. "I might," she said. "But I think I can do better than that. There's been word that a scullery maid has been wanted up at Meduseld for some time now. It's not much, but there's plenty of opportunity there. So what do you say?"

Etheldreda's heart felt as though it was going to burst with joy. It was all she could do not to hug the innkeeper.

"Thank you," she said, and she meant it. She turned on her heel and hurried out into the streets of Edoras, making her way up to the Golden Hall.

[ October 11, 2003: Message edited by: Airerûthiel ]

The X Phial

10-08-2003, 11:44 AM

The sun was getting strong and Aldhelm had long before started on the grinding for the day when Maedlyn finally made it out of bed. She had been awake for hours, listening to the snoring of her husband and then watching him as he gulped down a cold breakfast and hurried to the mill. Before long she had heard the tell-tale creaking of the gears and rumble of the stones as they crushed grain into flour for the local farmers. The day after market was always a busy one. Work stacked up while the mill was idle.

Maedlyn was not a lazy woman by nature. In fact, watching her husband and daughter as they moved about the house, being unable to care for them, gnawed at her a bit. The midwife had made it clear, however, that she was only to get up from the bed when absolutely necessary. Fear for the child she could often, now, feel moving inside her kept the advice in her mind. She would not lose another baby, not if anything in her power could prevent it, and so she endured the nagging sense of uselessness.

Still, some things could not be ignored. She struggled to right herself and grimaced a bit when Lathyn silently moved to her side to help her to her feet. She was so proud of her daughter. Never much of a talker, the young girl had taken over most of the running of the household with never a complaint or whimper. She seemed to enjoy the work, to an extent, and smiled richly when she accomplished something well. She had help, of course, from some of the farmer's wives who sent food with their husbands when the grain was delivered. The wives themselves never visited, being far too busy in their own households, but the breads and simple meals were much appreciated by Maedlyn, at least, who hated to see her daughter work so hard.

On her way back from the privy, a trip she had been making far too often for her liking, she paused to feel the sunshine on her face. It was a fine day, and a good one for bearing a child. Maedlyn hoped her time would be soon. Not too, soon, however, because she still had a visitor to prepare for. It wasn't often that people from the city came to visit the mill. Aldhelm usually went there for business and, when in full health, Maedlyn sometimes accompanied him. She loved her life at the mill, but had been longing for more social contacts recently. Confinement had been difficult.

Lathyn had taken the opportunity of her absence to change the linens on the bed and Maedlyn was proud and thankful to have such a helpful daughter. She washed and tidied herself and her clothes, sighing at how tired she felt, and decided against going back to bed. She picked up her knitting, instead, and sat in one of the large and comfortable chairs in the kitchen where she could still be off her feet, but talk with Lathyn and be able to greet Bethberry when she arrived. Lathyn was humming as she started to mix a honey cake, her only real concession to her youth in the way she occassionally sampled the batter.

"Are you excited about our visitor, Lathyn, dear?" Maedlyn enquired.

"Oh yes! I love seeing Miss Bethberry when I go to market with Papa." She glanced back at her mother, as if realizing that her words might be contrued as a complaint. "Not that I mind staying here and taking care of you, Mama!"

"I know you miss going to the market, so do I. You're a good girl, and hopefully, when your new brother or sister gets here, you'll be able to go again. I know your papa sure appreciates your company. He's been jealous that I have kept you all to myelf for so long."

Lathyn smiled and began to hum again. When the batter was mixed she wiped her hands.

"It needs to set. Can I go and get some flowers for the table? The animals are taken care of and I think it would be so pretty for Miss Bethberry when she arrives."

"Of course, sweeting. Just be sure to leave some flowers for the bees," she winked back. Maedlyn smiled as her normally stoic little girl rushed out the door to gather some wildflowers for the house. She felt the beginings of an ache in her back and knew it wasn't just from sitting up. This was far too low. The ache was still faint, just a presage. Still, she was glad her new son or daughter was finally getting ready to meet her.

dragoneyes

10-08-2003, 04:07 PM

combination of ElentariGreenleaf and dragoneyes

The sound of two horses' hooves came floating up the road on the breeze. Soon enough two riders came into sight. They both had light blonde hair, as was common to all Rohirrim and both were tanned due to days spent working in the sun. One was slightly taller than the other, and he was riding a large piebald cob. Its mane was long and thick and the forelock fell over its eyes, it was a wonder it could see where it was going some of the time. The other, shorter man rode a strong dun stallion named Braelin, whose mane, tail and fetlock were neatly trimmed compared to the cob's. They were moving at a brisk trot and neither face looked too happy. As they closed the distance between the inn and themselves, they slowed their pace. The piebald stallion tossed up head its in defiance and earnt itself a hard kick from its master, who certainly didn't look like he needed a disobedient horse.

The two men came to a halt in front of the inn stables and dismounted swiftly. Both walked their horses briskly, and with little patience to a spare stall. There didn't seem to be anyone around so they untacked their horses and shut them into their stalls with some fresh hay. The piebald immediately reached over the door with his head and began chewing and working away at the bolting, hoping to undo it and escape, which earnt it a smack on the nose.

"Don't even think about it Byrn!" said its master, Aldor. "And if you think I don't know your tricks then you're sorely mistaken!" he continued, sliding the bottom bolt with his foot. Aldor waited a while for his companion who was whispering some calming words into his horse's ear. Both horses were excited from the long night's ride.

"I'll never understand how you can calm him down doing that," said Aldor. "But come, let us go to the inn."

Aldor absentmindedly swung a thick leather glove, which anyone could recognise as a falconer's. Findur joined up with him and they walked around to the front of the inn together and through the door. Aldor was too flustered to enjoy the day as he should have done, as young as it was. He walked up to the bar and sat at a stool.

"Blasted bird!" he muttered, "And I don't care what time it is! I'm having an ale!" but his will faltered as he thought of his wife berating him if she saw him drinking this early. He sighed, he'd lost his kite, been chasing it half the night and was still not allowed a drink. Findur sat down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"We'll find them soon enough friend." Findur sat, one hand supporting his head, the other occupied by a small blade. "I hope Peregrine is alright. He's a good hunter, as is your Bromwyn. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen a kite quite like her. It puzzles me that they did not return." His words trailed off, as he had said them to himself.

"You would think," said Aldor loudly, "that at least one of the flaming birds would have the sense to come back. All we can do now is wait and see if anyone sees them." then he added as an afterthought, "She's lucky, Bromwyn. Nearly forgot to remove her jess and what a terrible pickle she'd be in then! This is only her second season." He sighed, getting agitated as his hair got in his eyes.

"Stop worrying, they'll be fine. But we should let the barkeep know that we are searching for our dear hunters." Findur rose and walked over to the counter. "Excuse me miss," he said to Aylwen. "Do you know where I might find the barkeep?"

Aldor walked up behind his friend an added, "We have lost our hunting birds and would like to know any news of them as soon as it arrives."

"Bethberry is the Inn keeper," started Aylwen.

"Where might we find her?" interrupted Aldor.

"She is away at the moment," Aylwen continued. "I am taking her place while she is gone. I am sorry to hear of your birds' disappearances, and promise I will tell you first thing I hear of them."

"Thank you kind lady," said Findur graciously

The two Rohirrim returned to their table and continued to talk. Nothing of much interest was passed between the two, but the idle chat, and later a loaf of bread and a little drink, was enough to keep their minds away from their long night of searching for Bromwyn and Peregrine.

[ October 08, 2003: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

Bêthberry

10-13-2003, 07:50 AM

Bethberry said good-bye to Aldhelm and ducked under the low beam of the door as she left the mill. The sunbeams caught on the dust particles in the air, making the entire place shimmer. It looked fascinating, but the heavy dust always made her sneeze. After one particularly strong sneeze, she wondered if millers were likely prone to chest ailments.

Walking Cailleach with the reigns in her hands, she trod the well-worn dirt path up to the small stone house. She could hear Deol scolding the cows in the barn and then, as she neared the house, she caught sight of Lathyn picking flowers.

"Ho, hello Lathyn," she called out and waved. The girl looked up, surprised and happy, and ran to meet her mother's friend.

"I've picked a nice posy for you Miss Bethberry," the girl burst out happily.

"So you have, so you have. They are beautiful."

Bethberry sniffed at bouquet of foxgloves and fleeceflower, primrose and lupins. They were fresh and sweet, but the scent of the honeysuckle vine covering the house overpowered them. She sneezed once, twice, and had to return the bouquet to Lathyn or she would have dropped them.

"I'm sorry," she said to the crestfallen girl. "I stopped by the mill to see your da and the dust there made me sneeze. I don't know how he can stand it in there. Let's see how lovely these look on your table, shall we?" She smiled cheerfully at the girl, a smile which brought happiness once again to Lathyn's face.

"How's your ma? Is she well? She's had a hard confinement. I've missed her and am so looking forward to this visit."

The girl nodded. "She's tired often and doesn't like being so bed or chair ridden. I think she's getting pains and cramps now, more often. She's waiting for you in the kitchen. Come."

The two left Cailleach with Deol in the barn and then walked up to house.

alaklondewen

10-19-2003, 07:47 AM

The warm embracing air of the inn was a comforting contrast to the cool morning dew that laced Lairwyn’s ankles. As she opened the large door to the White Horse, she unconsciously loosened her grip on the old, yellow shawl her mother crocheted for her before her wedding day. The smell of frying bacon stimulated her nostrils and her stomach rumbled a reply. Several folk sat in the common room sipping coffee and nibbling on toast and eggs. The rattling of pots and pans could be heard coming from the kitchen. Froma is hard at work already. Lairwyn smiled as she pictured the cook slaving over a hot fire, tasting rich sauces and adding pinches of seasonings.

Shaking the image from her head, Lairwyn crossed the room. After her unexpected departure from the market, the day before, she was hoping to catch a few of the local merchants who frequented the White Horse in the mornings. Yesterday had ended with unforeseen excitement. One moment she was looking over produce, and the next she was caught up with a couple of colorful performers and on her way to the inn. The actors had insisted on putting on a dinner show for the patrons, and their audience’s reaction was positive after the initial surprise. When she’d returned home, Lairwyn had to tell her disbelieving husband the tale three times before he’d let her be. Each time Mayhew would question just how she found herself with them, and then when she would describe the act, he would sit back in his chair with his hands behind his head and close his eyes picturing the whole ordeal. Honestly, he was more than a little uncomfortable knowing his wife spent the evening with strangers, but he wished he could have seen the show.

Lairwyn sat on a tall stool at the bar and ordered a cup of coffee and some bread to munch while she waited. Hopefully, she hadn’t missed the men this morning. They typically assembled early to talk about how business was going and the politics of the day.

“Lairwyn, how nice to see you.” Crumbs flew from Lairwyn’s mouth as she spun around on the stool to greet the voice. Her eyes widened when she saw Frodides smiling broadly. Lairwyn’s hand instinctively shot up to cover mouth, and she chewed quickly and swallowed a large lump of bread so she could answer her friend.

“Frodides, thank you. How is Mærcwen?” Lairwyn had served as midwife when Frodides had given birth to her little girl and the women had remained relatively close since. Close relationships with the families Lairwyn has served are common because of the bond formed when people share an emotional experience like that of birth. Lairwyn wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin from the bar, and turned just as Frodides began to answer…

[ October 19, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

The X Phial

10-20-2003, 09:55 AM

Maedlyn heard the excited laughter of her daughter, punctuated by a lower, smoother voice, as it got closer to the house. Bethberry must have arrived. She smiled to herself. Bethberry was one of the few adults she knew who would engage Lathyn in something approaching adult conversation, something she knew the girl appreciated.

Putting a hand on her abdomen, Maedlyn turned in her chair to survey the small house. The living area, which was really just an extention of the kitchen, was neat and tidy. She had, herself, gotten up to clean the higher reaches of the room when she knew for certain that Bethberry was coming. Aldhelm had offered, but was hopeless with cleaning, since he was surrounded by dust all day and didn't seem to see it anymore. The kitchen area itself, where she sat now, was, perhaps, a trifle too warm, but cheery and bright with windows overlooking the river.

Through the heavy oaken furniture of the living area, Maedlyn could see directly into the two bedrooms. The doors to both bedrooms stood open as usual, and, pushing back the chair a bit, Maedlyn was able to see that her daughter had put her favorite multicolored quilt on the foot of her small bed. A welcoming gesture for the guest, who would be staying there. Lathyn herself would be sleeping with her parents for the duration of the visit.

Meadlyn knew that the house was humble compared to Bethberry's normal surroundings. It was well made and had more windows than most regular farmhouses, but was not much compared to the White Horse or the lovely houses in Edoras. Still, Maedlyn was pleased with the way the house looked when neat and ready for a guest. She was less happy with her own appearance, and knew that she looked ungainly and heavy with the last stages of pregnancy. Still, she had done her best with comb and dress to make herself presentable and realised there was nothing she could do about the rest. She was as ready as she could be for her guest.

Just at that moment two things happened. The baby made its presence known again with a movement and another low pain in Maedlyn's back, and the door to the house swung open, admitting Lathyn and Bethberry. Maedlyn smiled warmly at them as they entered, but gasped slightly at the pain before speaking.

"Bethberry, my friend, it is wonderful to see you again. Welcome, welcome. Are you weary after your ride?"

"I am not weary, but I would gladly sit with you. Lathyn was just showing me her bounty of flowers. They would look well on the table."

Maedlyn nodded to Lathyn, who chose a glass to display the flowers in. The girl could not reach the vase and saw nothing wrong with using a drinking glass, which brought a smile to both women's faces as Bethberry took a seat at the table.

"They are lovely flowers, Lathyn," her mother began. "Would you like to offer Miss Bethberry a drink?"

Confident that her daughter could handle to social niceties for the moment, Maedlyn let her mind wander to the pain fluttering in her back. She pressed her hand to the ache to relieve the pressure and saw that her guest was watching her.

"So soon?" Bethberry inquired with raised eyebrows.

"Not soon enough," she laughed. "This is just a little warning. Still, I would think that before the end of the day, Deol will ride to town for Lairwyn."

She hoped her nervousness would not be too apparent, but could see that Bethberry, always perceptive, could sense her mixed feelings. She put down her knitting and reached across the table to lay her hand across her friend's.

"I am glad you're here!"

[ October 20, 2003: Message edited by: The X Phial ]

Manardariel

10-20-2003, 01:52 PM

"Oh, for goodness sake Briga, it´s only a cat!” Mia snapped at her younger sister. Briga was staring at a dead cat, watery-eyed and refusing to move another inch. Briga looked up at her.
“You´re mean, Mia! You´re mean and wicked, like an ugly spider. Go away!”
“Fine!” Exasperated, Mia moved a few steps away, catching up with Deor and Fianna; who were fighting over a wooden bear. As soon as she reached them, Briga broke into loud howling behind her, still refusing to move an inch and; of course, waking up the baby who had been sweetly sleping in Mia´s arms up to now. Dierna joined her sister, followed by a sobing Fianna with a red mark on her cheek that looked suspiciously like a slap-mark.
“DEOR!” Mia thundered. “Deor, did you just hit your sister? Deor, answer me!”
The boy shrugged. “She deserved it, the stupid cow. She started it!”
“No!” Fianna shrieked, hiding behind Mia´s skirt for protection. “Mia, he took my bear, and when I wanted it back he hit me!”
Mia stopped in her tracks. What was wrong with the kids? They´d been cranky and moody since dawn. “OK, you lot. Enough is enough.” She knew she sounded fierce. She wanted to sound fierce. “You kids stay right here. I´m going in there,” she pointed to a street to their left, “and when I´m back I don´t want to here a single cry, complain or fight. Understood?” She turned away.

The street was small and dark. Mia cooed Dianna back to sleep, then leaned against the wall for a moment. The kids weren´t the only ones in a bad mood. She was, too. A day of waiting for a reply from Bethberry, and making plans that were beating themselvesd in there abstruseness had worn her out. She had gone to bed later than usual, and a nightmare had shaken her awake long before morning. She couldn´t remember what she´d dreamed, but it had been horrible, and she didn´t sleep afterwards. Mia smiled grimly. She should be going. They were needed at the Horse, bad mood or not. She walked to the kids. They hadn´t gotten into mischief, on the contrary, they were behaving nicely. Briga and Fianna were playing with a doll, Deor standing aside. She gently ruffeled his hair and pecked her sisters on the cheek. The group set out again.

Arriving at the Inn, Mia watched the kids run out of site, and walked in. Frodides caught her off before she could even enter the kitchen.
“Morning, Mia!,” she said cheerfully. “I´ve been thinking about your idea. About the school. You know, we should talk to Aylwen about it. If we have her permission we can all organise it as a suprise for Bethberry when she comes back.”

Mia smiled. Some suprise that would be! But it was a good idea. She gratefully smiled at Frodides. “You know,” she told the older woman as they walked towards the kitchen. “I was wondering, maybe we should post a notice at the board to find somemore teachers. These people are bound to be good at something, be it herbs or history.” She nodded her head towards some of the guests. “Some of them have business here that holds them in Edoras for more than a month. That´s time to teach these kids enough for a lifetime!” She laughed. All her troubles seemed far away, now that there was something to do, something to organise.

She left for the kitchen, and while she worked, she sang aloud. Well, she would have untill her suffering “audience” bade her to silence. This she did, though unwillingly. At some point, she walked over to Aylwen. This was it. She looked at the bard and took a deep breath.

“Aylwen? Do you have a moment?” The bard nodded. Mia stept forward, forcing her hands to stop wringing.
“The thing is...I was thinking...see, I thought it would nice if we –well, I, I suppose- maybe organised a little school here. For the village kids. It´s just...I mean it would be good for them if they knew how to spell, to count. And they´d get out of mischief. We could find teachers among the teachers, and maybe some of the staff. It wouldn´t cost, we could do it in that little room off the big hall. The one that´s not used often. We could even go outside if the weather´s good! The children would be good, I´m sure. It would work perfectly...”
Her voice trailed as she looked into Aylwen´s face. So? what was her answer?

[ October 20, 2003: Message edited by: Manardariel ]

Horse-Maiden of the Shire

10-20-2003, 07:31 PM

Anwir headed out to the stable, nodding to a man as he passed by. As he stepped into the stable, he was greeted by the pungent smell of horse and the sweet scent of hay. Mihtig looked up from munching his fodder and nickered softly.

"Hello there, fellow. How are you doing?" murmured Anwir, rubbing the stallion's velvety nose. Mihtig searched Anwir's hand, looking for treats, but he found nothing. Anwir chuckled and said "Sorry, boy; nothing for you at the moment."

He left Mihtig and went to grab a broom to sweep the aisle. Beginning at the far end, Anwir was soon hard at work. When he was halfway there, he stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow and leaned on his broom. Suddenly his nose detected a sharp smell, something he recognized but couldn't quite put his finger on. He heard a horse neigh shrilly and saw a light flare up at the other end of the stable. As he realized what it was, he ran towards it, screaming "Fire! Fire! Help, someone! Fire in the stable! Fire!"

Anwir ran out of the stable and into the Horse, still yelling. The people enjoying late breakfasts and drinks looked at him like he was a lunatic. Aleia had been sitting at a table enjoying a mug of ale, and she jumped, twisting to look at who had burst into the room. When she recognized Anwir, she lunged towards him and gave him a smart slap.

"Snap out of it, boy! What are you screaming about?" she cried, shaking his shoulders.

Anwir wrenched from her grasp and ran towards the door, crying "The stable! It's on fire! Help me! You must help! The horses!"

Suddenly his face went stark white and he croaked, "The horses." He whirled on his heel and sprinted out of the inn and back towards the stable with Aleia and a host of others in hot pursuit.

"Stop, Anwir! Stay out of there!" screamed Aleia, as Anwir disappeared into the now-ablaze stable. The shrill cries of the trapped horses that were still inside pierced the hearts of the onlookers and they started moving into action. Anwir reappeared leading a chestnut horse with rolling eyes. Someone ran forward to grab it and Anwir ran back into the stable accompanied by a handful of brave souls. Water was now being thrown onto the hungry fire, and suddenly a torrent of horses streamed from the stable doorway. They neighed shrilly and galloped away, terrified. A few of their owners cried out and began moving back towards them, but Aleia shouted "Leave them be! They'll not be lost."

Some of the boys that had run in after Anwir appeared from the stable with sooty faces and terrified eyes. Anwir reappeared for the last time from the groaning stable shortly afterwards, this time leading Mihtig and leaning on one of the lad's arms who went in with him. Anwir coughed and collapsed onto the boy who had been helping him. Mihtig cantered off, glad to be free of the fiery building. Anwir was swept up into Aleia's arms, while the rest of the crowd worked to quench the flames.

[ October 21, 2003: Message edited by: Horse-Maiden of the Shire ]

Aylwen Dreamsong

10-21-2003, 04:08 PM

Aylwen’s usual smile was turned downcast in contemplation and concentration as she stood at the registry and began a list of things needed the next time they went to the market. Delia had asked for a few supplies, and Froma had come back to Aylwen recently to ask about ingredients needed for some such food he had in mind. People bustled all around her, latecomers just waking up and coming downstairs to join the rest of the customers ordering breakfast and drinks. In the booth behind her Aylwen could hear a local muttering curses and insults (http://www.renfaire.com/Language/insults.html) at the engraver (http://members.tripod.com/hkcarms/occ.html), who shouted flourished and seemingly rehearsed retorts back at him, but Aylwen tried her best to think over that controversy and the sounds of other guests. Aylwen hardly noticed when Mia walked up to her and tapped her shoulder for attention.

“Aylwen, do you have a moment?” Mia asked, and though her voice was wavering slightly with nerves, Mia was doing well to compose herself. Aylwen nodded kindly, looking up from her papers and putting her charcoal pencil down.

Mia continued. “The thing is...I was thinking...see, I thought it would nice if we –well, I, I suppose- maybe organized a little school here. For the village kids. It’s just...I mean it would be good for them if they knew how to spell, to count. And they’d get out of mischief. We could find teachers among the teachers, and maybe some of the staff. It wouldn’t cost, we could do it in that little room off the big hall. The one that’s not used often. We could even go outside if the weather’s good! The children would be good, I’m sure. It would work perfectly...”

Aylwen grinned, but thought before answering. The Assistant Innkeeper’s memory flashed back to just two days previous, when she had been speaking with the bard, Child. Child had asked about the children running around the Inn when they had been preparing for the celebration, and Aylwen remembered what she had said in answer. Their parents have a hard enough time making ends meet. They might have a few spare pennies one month but the next be scrambling for food to feed their little ones. In any case, many of them see no reason why their children should spend time learning their letters or numbers. It just doesn't seem to be part of their life. Aylwen sighed, wishing that it wasn’t so. This was the chance to make her previous statement untrue.

“I see no problem with it,” Aylwen replied slowly, making sure she worded her answer correctly. “So long as work in the inn is not forgotten about, and people are not called away from necessary duties, I don’t see why we can’t make this idea work. It would be a wonderful opportunity for the children – “

“Yes, it would!” Mia interrupted excitedly. She was smiling broadly from ear to ear, and from the look on her face Aylwen could tell Mia was already planning what she would teach first and who could teach what. Mia had quite a future ahead of her, Aylwen could feel it.

Aylwen had little chance to think about that, for mere seconds after Aylwen had approved of Mia’s idea, a little boy came running through the door of the Inn, flailing his wire-thin arms about frantically and wildly. He jostled patrons walking by, and was only stopped when the hobbit Aleia grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Oh, Anwir!” Aylwen sighed to herself, politely excusing herself to Mia as she left the desk and went to see what was wrong. Aleia had asked the thief boy something, but Aylwen couldn’t quite hear it in time. It didn’t matter, since she was able to hear Anwir’s reply quite clearly, though what he said was much to her dismay and shock.

"The stable! It's on fire! Help me! You must help! The horses!" was his first cry, but before he left the inn he was able to wheeze out, “The horses,” weakly before he ran out towards the stables.

At first Aylwen didn’t believe him, and thought it was a prank made by the little trickster she recalled from after the market day. When she went outside, however, and saw the orange-red flames licking at the wood towards the back of the stables, Aylwen was filled with shock and intense worry. For just a split second she was frozen, unsure of what she should do. But she snapped out of it just as quickly as she had fallen in and ran into the inn to get help from the staff and hopefully the patrons. It was a community problem, after all.

What will Bethberry say? Aylwen asked herself frantically as she recruited the people of the inn to help with the fire.

[ October 25, 2003: Message edited by: Aylwen Dreamsong ]

Ealasaide

10-24-2003, 07:34 AM

As Sigrid trudged up the road toward the inn, she raised a hand to push a stray strand of ash blond hair away from her face. She had noticed a thick cloud of smoke rising from some distance away, but, now, as she drew closer to the White Horse Inn, she saw that the smoke came from one of the inn’s outbuildings. The stable, perhaps. People crowded the inn’s yard, some running back and forth with water buckets, while others did their best to calm the panicked horses. Sigrid glanced over her shoulder at her dog, a black and white border collie. The dog stood very still, her blue eyes staring in the direction of the fire, her ears cocked attentively forward. Sigrid gave a low whistle. The dog’s plumy tail waved twice then stopped as her nose continued to sniff intently at the breeze that blew toward them from the fire, carrying with it the pungent odors of smoke and horses.

Sigrid stopped walking and shifted her small bundle of clothing from one hand to the other. This was bad luck, indeed. She had hoped to find work at the inn, something perhaps in the kitchen, but, if the place burned down... what would she do for work, then? She couldn’t go back to the farm. And, even if she could find work at the inn, with the stable burned down, where would she sleep? What would she do with the dog? She glanced again at the dog, Kajsa, and sighed. She hadn’t meant to bring the dog at all, but by the time Sigrid had noticed her trotting along at her heels, it was too late to send her back. She had walked too far. If she turned back, there would be no getting away again. So, the dog stayed.

As it turned out, Sigrid had been grateful for the company, as the journey down from the hills had been a long one. She turned her attention back in the direction of the fire. If there was no work at the inn, perhaps she could find work in the town. That would probably be better for her, anyway. After all, she wasn’t without skills. Anxiously, she touched the pocket where she carried her purse. She could afford a room at the inn only for a short while unless a job materialized rather quickly, but it was worth the gamble. She couldn’t very well sleep in the meadow and expect to have any luck applying for a respectable position in town with muddy hems and grass in her hair. But, for the moment, she would see what she could do to help the people of the inn extinguish their fire. Clutching her small bundle to her chest, she began to jog in the direction of the inn.

Just then, three horses broke from the confines of the inn yard, taking off across the adjacent field at a full gallop. The dog, Kajsa, dropped to a half crouch and emitted a low whine. She glanced anxiously between Sigrid and the horses.

Hearing the whine, Sigrid looked back. Then, guessing at the dog's instincts, she gave a short, sharp whistle and pointed at the oncoming horses. The dog took off like an arrow across the open meadow on a trajectory that would carry her right across the path of the frightened horses. Sigrid stopped to watch as the small black and white body of the dog hurtled directly in front of the lead horse, almost under its hooves. The horse, a large bay, stopped and reared, its hooves beating the air. The other two, following the first horse's lead, shied as well. Sigrid bit her lip, watching as the dog darted back and forth between the three horses, nipping at heels and barking, until finally the three horses stood shoulder to shoulder in a nervous bunch. Slowly, Sigrid approached them, cooing softly as she came. The dog crouched in the grass nearby.

"Shhh....that's a good boy," Sigrid whispered, holding out her hand to the bay stallion. "That's a good boy..." The horses eyed her nervously. They all wore halters and one, a small gray, even had a fairly long lead rope attached. Sigrid decided that if she could lead the three horses back to the inn, at least she would have an opening through which she could approach the stable master. She was sure, in his position at the inn, he would know most of the townspeople. Perhaps he would be able to tell her where in town a good position could be had. She had great skill as a spinner and weaver, having been taught the skills at her mother’s knee from a very young age. Maybe the town’s weaver could use her.

Gently, she stroked the nose of the bay. Still speaking soothingly to the frightened animals, she reached over and detached the lead rope from the halter of the gray horse, reattaching it to the bay. She knew the other two horses would follow their leader, especially with Kajsa trotting along behind. Clucking softly to the horses, Sigrid gave the rope a firm tug and began to walk toward the inn. To her relief, the horses followed. Sigrid smiled to herself. She had difficulty understanding people sometimes, but animals? With animals, she was just fine.

ElentariGreenleaf

10-25-2003, 05:45 AM

Findur woke up to find his head hurt and his neck ached from sleeping with his head on the table in an awkward position. For a moment sleep kept him in its clutches, but he sat bolt upright when he heard shouting and smelt the repulsive smell of smoke. He elbowed Aldor sharply in the rips.

“Wake up!” said Findur urgently. Something’s on fire. I think it’s the stables!”

“What?” shouted Aldor.

Both men ran to the door and on to the stables, where a thick wall of smoke instantly blinded them. Findur ran to the nearest person and grabbed them by the shoulders.

“Are all the horses safe?” he shouted above the roar of the flames and shouts of the surrounding people.

“All the horses are safe, but I don’t remember you bringing one in.”

“I took him into the stables myself. He’s a dun stallion. Is he safe?”

“I’m sorry, but we haven’t seen a dun. He could have-”

Findur ran to the stables before the boy could finish his sentence. The heat from the flames was intense, and smoke was so thick he could barely breath, so he took a kerchief from his pocket and covered his mouth with it, tying it at the back of his head to keep his hair out of the way. He took a few deep breaths before he ran through the flame-engulfed doorway.

“Braelin!” Findur shouted his horse’s name over and over. “Braelin, where are you boy?” He heard a frightened neigh close to the stall Findur had left the stallion in. He knew the neigh to be Braelin’s and ran to his horse. Suddenly, a support beam from the roof crashed to the ground only metres in front of Findur. The impact caused flaming part of the beam to go flying, setting even more wood and straw alight. The beam now blocked Findur’s path to his stallion.

Braelin reared in fright, as a clump of burning hay fell from the smouldering hayloft above, burning his back and singeing some of his mane. The terrified stallion bolted, leaping over the beam that blocked the path, and nearly knocked Findur flying. Findur caught hold of Braelin’s mane as the horse ran past, and was dragged along, though he managed to stay on his feet. With great effort Findur swung himself onto Braelin’s back.

“Whoa boy,” he said, leaning close to the stallion’s ears. “Calm own boy. Whoa Braelin.”

Braelin slowed and came to a halt right in front of a wall. He tossed his head wildly, but did not bolt again. The whites of his eyes were showing and froth ha formed at his mouth. Findur hated to see his faithful steed in such a state. Dismounting, Findur untied his kerchief and tied it round Braelin’s head, covering the horse’s eyes. Braelin’s ears twitched nervously, but Findur stroked him on the nose until he calmed down completely. Putting his arm around Braelin’s neck, Findur led his horse to the nearest exit then away from the flames and smoke. He shouted for Byrn, Aldor’s horse, but heard no neigh, saw no frightened cob horse.

A cheer went up from a crowd of people as Findur led Braelin out of the building, but it soon subsided as part of the building collapsed.

“Findur!” Aldor ran up to his friend. “Findur, did you see Byrn? Is he safe?”

Findur looked away from his friend’s hopeful face. “I did not see or hear him.”

“He must have got out then,” said Aldor hopefully.

Findur looked at the ground. He too hoped Byrn, so ironically named, had escaped, but none of the stable workers had known of their horses being in the stables.

Aldor watched his friend’s expression. “No. He got out! I know he did. You… you didn’t look hard enough!”

“Aldor, I-” but Aldor was gone before Findur could finish speaking.

Ransom

10-25-2003, 05:13 PM

Drip.

Drop.

Drip.

Drop.

Aredihel Danwedh watched with rapt interest as blood dripped out of the shallow incision several inches below her left wrist. It was scarcely an inch long and shallow, but it served its purpose. The life giving crimson liquid slowly seeped out of her wound and gathered into a large droplet before plummeting into the metal cup on the table. She would have preferred leaches, but her husband had not found an apothecary that stocked the slimy critters. Aredihel didn’t blame him—after all they had only arrived in the city yesterday. As the Judicial and Military attaché to the Gondorian ambassador, he had been obligated to spend the day learning the ropes. Adjusting to their new home would certainly take longer.

Satisfied that she had drawn the prescribed amount of blood, she quickly cleaned and bound the wound. From her twelfth birthday, she had suffered from an ailment that all the doctors were at a loss to explain. Sunlight scorched her, causing her skin to break out in rashes and blisters. Wine and beer had the same effect, marring her pale white skin with ugly red blemishes. It seemed that the curse ran in her families—her aunt and her grandfather had both suffered the same problems. Over a few decades of experimentation, her grand father had discovered that drawing a small amount of blood each day would greatly lessen the curse.

Later, after nightfall, she would dispose of the blood in the garden and clean the defiled vessel. There were so many things for a new arrival to accomplish, and most would have to be accomplished in the daylight. They still had several days of travel rations remaining, but there were a few small things she would have to purchase. Furthermore, she would soon have to find somewhere to procure food for her two dogs, Marco and Sinco. The wolf and the hunting dog lounged in front of the fireplace, exhausted after the long trip up from Gondor. It was reassuring to know that, despite the move, something was getting rest.

After straightening her simple black dress, the Gondorian woman pulled on a matching pair of gloves. A simple white wooden mask sat on the table, devoid of any markings or decorations save for two slits to allow vision. For all intents and purposes, it was simply a wooden plate that protected her features from the scorching sun. A heavy scarf tied around her neck and a brown traveler’s cloak with a hood completed her attires. As long as she didn’t look directly at the sun, she probably would not suffer any symptoms. Anyways, the light had begun to fade, and soon she would not need her elaborate protection.

Aredihel paused inside the foyer of her home. Her uncle, who had been a rich merchant while he was still alive, had built the house. Success had made him paranoid, and he had built his house with half-foot thick stone walls. Still, it didn’t take a bat to figure out that something was going on in the streets outside. She sniffed, sensing the harsh presence of smoke. Was there a fire?

The sudden influx of noise and smell caused by the opening of the door woke Sinco, the wolf. He stumbled into the foyer, still half asleep, and yapped anxiously at the owner. Aredihel smiled at him and gently shooed him back into the common room. While her family had trained their dogs to track and hunt, Sinco had never been city broken. Anyways, a fire was not exactly the best time to introduce him to the city. The horses certainly wouldn’t appreciate it either. With a wince, she stepped into the sun and shut the door behind her.

She didn’t feel the burning itching that indicated the burning rays of the sun touching her skin. Despite the shouting and smoke billowing down the street, her mood lightened considerably. Her uncle had enclosed his property with an eight-foot high stone wall, so she could still not see what was going on. But, at the very least, she would be able to move freely now. The two horses the couple owned, a black warhorse, and her chestnut riding horse, moved about uneasily in the small stall near the gate. Aredihel didn’t blame them—the sound of the screaming horses was beginning to unnerve her as well.

Closing the heavy wooden gate behind her, she began pushing her way down the street to get a better look. The stables of the inn at the end of street had caught fire, and the crowd had begun to form a chain between the burning building and the nearest well. Others had begun dousing the neighboring buildings. In a city made of straw and wood, an out of control fire could quickly devastate the infrastructure. She joined the crowd in cheering as another horse was freed from the burning building. However, as time passed, fewer and fewer of the creatures emerged. Those that did often sported burns and bruises. Aredihel hoped the slowing rescue rate meant that most of the horses had been rescued—the alternative was not something she wanted to think about.

[ October 25, 2003: Message edited by: Ransom ]

[ October 25, 2003: Message edited by: Ransom ]

[ October 25, 2003: Message edited by: Ransom ]

Nurumaiel

10-25-2003, 06:23 PM

Leofan had been outside, walking one of the horses to give it some exercise. He had decided it would be safe to leave Anwir in 'charge' of the stable for a few minutes. When he heard the cry of 'Fire!' from the young boy, his mind flew immediately to Mihtig, but concern was building up inside them for all the other horses, as well. He had experienced two stable fires already, and in those two fires hardly any of the horses had escaped.

Turning, he saw Anwir run out of the stable and right into Aleia. Leofan took a sharp step towards them, but the lead rope in his hand grew taut as the horse he was leading stiffened in fear. "Anwir!" he cried. "Come hold this horse for me!" His voice was drowned in the shouts that came from the guests as they came pouring out of the Inn. Anwir disappeared into the stable.

With a little cry of rage, Leofan caught a man who was running past him by the shirt and shoved the lead rope into his hand. "Hold that, and don't let it get away." Glancing down, he saw that the man he had stopped was holding a bucket of water. Taking it from his hands, he went forward to Aleiea. "Where's the boy?" he demanded. His eyes were flickering dangerously and his body was tense.

"He went into the stable," Aleia said. She hesitated for a moment, and then added, "Please don't be angry with him, Leofan. He's still just a boy and I don't think he realizes..."

"I'm not angry with him," Leofan replied. "I once did the same thing. I'm frightened for him, that's all. I think I should go after-" He was never able to finish, for Anwir came running out of the stables, leading Mihtig. Leofan felt gratitude for the rescue of his stallion springing up inside him, but there was no time to thank the boy. There were still horses in the stable. He stepped forward to go into the stable, and his eyes sprang to the Inn. Frodides was standing there, watching him, and Leofan remembered that the last stable fire he had been involved in he had narrowly escaped with his life, while he and Frodides had just recently been married. Hopefully she would forgive him for what he was about to do. He went into the burning stable.

Inside, he could hear the shrill whinnies and panicked eyes of horses, some frozen with fear and others plunging back and forth in their stalls. It was no easy task to bring them out, but he had to try. He fought the painful memories that arose in his mind... all those horses that had been killed by the merciless fire. He would do what he could to save them.

Opening one stall, he quickly put a halter onto a bay mare's head and whispered some soothing words in her ear, running his hand up and down her neck. Then he began to walk forward. She refused to move. "Come on, lass," he murmured. "It's all right." Still she would not move.

Leofan always kept a dagger with him, for while stablekeeping was generally safe, there was always a chance that someone might try to steal the horses. Withdrawing it now, he cut off his right sleeve and, still speaking softly to the mare, covered her eyes with it. Perhaps that was the reason for that look of intense concern on Frodides' face, he thought with a grim smile. She must have known I had no handkerchief on me, or anything of the sort. Never ceasing in his kind words to the mare, he slowly led her out of the stable. He shoved the lead in a boy's hand and went back into the stable and soon returned with a jittery dapple-grey mare. Picking up a bucket of water that had been set down, he began working to put out the fire, trying to divert his mind from the horses still inside. In a few moments he would go back in. He would save neither horses nor himself if he went in again now. The smoke was overpowering him.

Sinking to his knees, he bent his head low, shutting out the whinnies of the horses. A gentle hand touched his shoulder, and he knew without looking up that it was Frodides.

[ October 25, 2003: Message edited by: Nurumaiel ]

Airerûthiel

10-28-2003, 01:53 PM

Etheldreda wrinkled her nose as a sickening stench writhed in her nostrils. What was that smell? She stopped halfway through the motion of scrubbing the floor and took a deep breath. It wasn't coming from inside the Golden Hall, that much she knew. Her years of stable work had given her a keen sense of direction when she'd had to look for horses that had wandered too far whilst grazing the plains. She stood up slowly, abandoning her bucket and cloth, and took careful steps towards the scent. It grew stronger as she neared one wall. Her eyes travelled to the window.

Fear chilled her blood to ruby ice as she stared out in horror. Ravenous flames licked at the wooden thatched buildings, setting them alight. She wanted to cry out in horror. It was only then that she realised where the fire was coming from. The stables of the Horse were burning down!

She thought of Tycyn instantly, remembering the manner in which he had become hers. The blaze at her father's first stables, when she was a girl of seven or eight summmers. The bay foal had been the only survivor of the horrible fire. Even now the terrified cries of the horses echoed in her mind, swallowed up by the crackling of charring wood and straw. She would not let her best friend meet the fate of his mother.

Ursa, the head of the servants, turned at the sound of running feet. She only caught a glimpse of long dark hair rounding a corner as the steps faded into nothingness. Shaking her head, the woman went back to her work. Many of the girls who had done the scullery maid's duties before this maid arrived had complained about the work, but she certainly hadn't expected the new lass to just run out of Meduseld without even saying goodbye after less than a day.

Etheldreda raced through the streets of Edoras, her heart slamming against her ribs. Several irate peasant women chided her as she knocked into their shoulders. Her ears were deaf to their reprimands; she could hear nothing but the fear pulsing through her body. Every part of her ached with fright. Terrifying images flickered across her eyes for fractions of seconds, merging into one scary vision that seeped like poison into her every thought.

Out of breath and panting heavily, she reached the inn in a matter of minutes. It felt as though she'd been running since the First Age. A crowd of black figures were flocking towards the stables, some trying to put the fire out, others leading horses away from the blaze. She could hear the cries of those who had whipped themselves up into a panic. These faded in and out of her mind, replaced by one repeated phrase: got to find Tycyn, got to find Tycyn...

For a moment she started forward, taken over by the desperate desire to find her horse. The heat that hit her was that of a thousand forges. Her throat was tightening, constricted by the noxious fumes. She had to fight it. Saving her horse from the destiny of his foalhood stable-mates was, for a minute time, more important than her own life. She did not care whether the fire consumed her. Let her sacrifice become legend among the Rohirrim! The tale of a woman dying for taking such pride in the traditions of her adopted people would not lie for a thousand years.

It was then that she saw a young woman of about her own age stroking the nose of a bay stallion. One glance at the horse was all that she needed to break down. The tears that spiked her eyes like a hundred needles were almost as hot as the flames. She ran across the courtyard, calling out to Tycyn in Rohirric. He turned towards her voice and whinnied softly. The girl who was leading him and two other horses gave his halter a slight tug.

She reached her horse and threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his soft brown coat. The tears trickled from her clouded eyes, dripping down Tycyn's shoulder. She did not want to let him go. Her head and heart felt as though they would explode with despair and worry and relief and joy. No job mattered more than the safety of her stallion.

"I presume he belongs to you then," the girl said, her eyes smiling behind her blonde fringe. Etheldreda smiled back, nodding.

"Thank you for rescuing him," she said gratefully. "He's the only thing I've got in all the world. My name's Etheldreda." She held out a still-soapy hand and laughed nervously.

"Sigrid," said the girl, shaking Etheldreda's hand warmly and firmly. "Come on, let's help the rest of these horses!"

As Etheldreda ran for more water, her mind wandered to the cause of the fire. She was sure it was no accident. Who would think of doing such a thing to the inn, to Bêthberry and Aylwen? Perhaps she could ask Sigrid what she thought about the blaze. She allowed herself a slight grin. Maybe, just maybe, she had finally found a human friend she could trust.

Ealasaide

10-28-2003, 05:43 PM

Leading the three horses, Sigrid had only walked a few paces in the direction of the inn when the horse whose lead she held abruptly shied and half-reared, lifting Sigrid's slight figure completely off her feet. Behind her, the other two horses shied and danced nervously as well. She could hear Kajsa, the dog, bark and growl in the attempt to keep the horses under control. When her feet touched down again, Sigrid looked back at the inn just in time to see the stable's roof collapse under a cloud of black smoke. Orange sparks billowed skyward followed by tongues of bright flame. She winced as the sound of screaming horses struck her ears, the terrified voices of the animals trapped inside.

The bay reared again. This time, Sigrid loosened her grip on the rope and let it feed through her fingers. When the bay stallion came down again, she turned him away from the inn and whistled to the dog. What she was doing was not going to work. She was going to have to blindfold the horses and try to put a lead rope of some kind on the other two, not just the bay.

Still holding the rope in one hand, she bent down and opened her bundle of clothing, taking out two shawls and a long apron. Having retied the bundle, she left it and the garments she had taken out of it on the ground and turned her attention to the lead rope. It was long, much longer than she really needed for a single horse. With a little ingenuity, she could fashion it into a tether with which she could lead all three horses. She should have done that in the first place, she knew, but it was better to have the idea late than not at all.

Speaking soothingly again to the frightened horses, she drew the rope out between her fingers until about five feet existed between her hand and the lead horse. She tied an overhand knot in the rope, then, approaching the small gray, slid the end of the rope through the hardware of the mare's halter. Pulling the rope through until the knot touched the hardware, she tied a second knot to hold the rope in place. She secured the third horse in the same fashion, tying the end of the rope with a solid knot she had learned from her father. She didn't know what the knot was called, but was certain it would not come undone. Still speaking softly to the three horses and gently patting their necks, she went back to the lead horse and tied one of the shawls over his eyes. Then, in turn, she tied the other shawl and the apron over the eyes of the remaining two. With their blindfolds in place, the horses seemed calmer, but their ears twitched nervously at the tortured sounds of the horses trapped and dying in the stable ahead.

Picking up her bundle of clothes, Sigrid hesitated and glanced back in the direction of a large liveoak tree she had passed a few minutes earlier by the side of the road. Her temptation was to lead the horses over there to wait in safety until the fire at the inn was under control, but decided against it. She did not want her arrival at the inn for the first time to be tainted by an accusation of horse-thieving. Reluctantly, she turned and made her way to the inn yard. The heat was intense and people still ran to and fro heaving water on the fire, trying to subdue the blaze, their faces grim and streaked in soot.

Sigrid whistled Kajsa to heel, then led the horses to a quiet corner of the yard as far as she could get from the burning stable. The bay whinnied loudly and shook his head. The shawl Sigrid had tied around his eyes came loose and fell to the ground. Sigrid stooped to pick it up and, as she straightened, saw a dark-haired girl of about her own age running toward her across the yard, crying out in Rohirric. The horse whinnied again, softer this time. Sigrid stepped out of the way as the girl flung herself on to the neck of the bay horse, weeping as though her heart would burst from joy.

Watching, Sigrid instinctively dropped a hand toward Kajsa, and smiled as the dog's cold little nose touched her palm. She understood what emotions the dark-haired girl was experiencing. Animals had a way of getting under her skin, sometimes more than people. To lose one that was loved the way this girl loved her horse.... well, she didn't want to think about it. People here had lost horses.

"I presume he belongs to you, then," Sigrid said softly to the girl.

"Thank you for rescuing him," the girl said gratefully. "He's the only thing I've got in all the world. My name's Etheldreda." Laughing nervously, the girl held out a soapy hand to Sigrid.

"Sigrid," answered Sigrid, smiling warmly and shaking the girl's hand. "Come on, let's help the rest of these horses!" she added, as a pair of loose horses wandered over to join the three in Sigrid's charge.

Etheldreda nodded and ran off for more water. Sigrid watched her go, smiling at the girl's back. She hoped she could become friends with this girl. The soap on her hands said that she was probably not just a guest at the inn and most likely worked somewhere in the neighborhood, if not at the inn. Sigrid hoped that was so. She would like very much to have a friend her own age, especially one who would not be leaving again immediately.

As Etheldreda disappeared into the crowd that filled the courtyard around the well, Sigrid looked around at her surroundings. It seemed such a busy place, so many people and horses, so many different accents in the sea of voices. Surely there would be room for one more.

dragoneyes

11-01-2003, 03:37 PM

Aldor pushed and shoved his way through the crowd to the end of the stable that he hoped Byrn had escaped from. Every so often he was passed a bucket of water from behind and he pushed it onward to the poeple in front of him. Then an empty one would come from the front and he would shove it aimlessly behind him. Everyone was yelling, either to each other, to the horses, or just out of shock and adrenaline. Aldor tied a scarf around his head, following the example of some around him. He could see the faces of everyone that surrounded him, their eyes were wide and most were covered in soot and sweat. Some faces were hot and red, others were pale with grief and Aldor wondered for a brief moment what his own face looked like.

Aldor then broke through the front line, not many people went any further for the heat was terrible. Aldor was handed another bucket of water, but heh didn't throw over the fire just yet. He ran down the front of the line searching desparately for the right stall. In his panic he couldn't find it he ran up and down twice until he came to what he rocgnised as the right stall. It was shut.

"Please Byrn," He muttered to himself, "Please have escaped, just say the door shut behind you as you fled. You can be as much of a nuisance as you want when we get back home and you can stamp and kick and bite all you want, just don't be in there." Aldor ran to the door. The top bolt was undone and hope flashed through his heart, but it was soon to be extinguished when he saw the bottom bolt still bolted firm.

Aldor kicked aside the bolt and put his hand on the door to open it but it burnt and sizzled. He would not be put off by a hot door. He grabbed his thick leather glove that was tied to his belt and used that to open the door, he almost immediately wished he hadn't.

"Byrn!" he yelled at the trapped form on the floor. Even though Aldor's voice was muffled by the scarf, the horse screamed in response and struggled to get up but he was stuck firm underneath a heavy beam. His mane was ablaze and his fur was turned to cinders. Aldor's own skin felt as though it was bubbling and his eyes felt like they should melt at any moment. He remembered the bucket of water he still had in his hands and poured it over his horse's head. Byrn looked up at him on last time with tortured eyes and his head fell to the floor, his glassy eyes reflecting the flames and smoke on the ceiling.

"Get out of there!" Aldor heard faintly over the roar of the fire and he turned away from the devastating sight and stumbled out of the stable. He made it back to the safety of the crowds just as the roof fell in. There was a collective gasp and everyone drew back as fumes, smoke and unbearable heat was pushed outwards.

Aldor pushed his bucket into waiting hands and pushed his way back through the crowd.

"Your hair!" he heard someone yell and he felt that same someone hitting the back of his head, relieving some of the heat but his face was still burning. He turned to face that someone but they had moved on already. Buckets were still being passed back and forth as Aldor broke out of the throng of people and collapsed on the ground.

He ripped the scarf from his face and threw it away from himself. Tears carved their paths in his blackened face as he crawled away from the commotion. He was at a loss for what to do in an unfamiliar place, he didn't frequent the streets of Edoras much and desired something that he knew. Findur! He would find Findur. And he hoped he could be recognised with his blistering face.

Writer of The Mark

11-02-2003, 01:14 PM

A trembling voice rang in Linnea’s ears. She had awakened from what she thought, and imagined, was a bad dream. As she jumped down from the bed, she noticed her father, who was currently still asleep. It was awkward how he made such funny faces when he slept. His red thin lips were curled together, just like a circle. And when he breathed outwards, you could hear the sound of whistling. It had never been his intention to do this, while sleeping; it was just something he did automatically. Linnea advanced over the floor, making her way to the end of his bed.

As always, his toes peeped out and up from the blanket. And every time snorting, he made a wave with them. The little girl laughed, but took heed; her father was after all sleeping. She knew how cranky he would get if he didn’t get his ’beauty-sleep’, as her father called it.

Linnea shook her head as she muttered something about how impossible her father was. Would he ever wake up? She felt her impatience grow as the white figure of hers moved towards the window, where the screaming voices had come from.

She watched how the red sun climbed over the hills, and lit up Rohan with its' golden light. The girl looked downwards, where her eyes wandered towards the stable, a small building with a dark roof. A mixture of colors; red, yellow and orange seized her, as she at once understood that the stable was on fire. “Fire in the stable!” she heard a woman call. Linnea repeated this sentence to herself, meanwhile trying to get her father to wake up. He snorted as he waved with his toes again. “Never mind,” she muttered, now being irritated.

The girl remembered how her father had led their horses into the stable, the previous day. Her horse. She took a hold of herself, thinking that the horses would be okay. As far as she was concerned; people had already gathered around the stable, trying to put out the fire by having buckets filled with water thrown at the flames.

The girl grabbed a pair of hand made leather shoes before she opened the door, and slipped it quietly shut behind her. She tried to make as little noise as possible, hoping her father wouldn’t wake up.

Linnea tripped on in the long hall, wearing only the shoes and her thin white night-gown. She turned her head in every direction, looking for the staircase. Linnea froze as she heard a door slam shut. If her father noticed her, sneaking around at an Inn all by herself, he would never take her on Horse riding to her Uncle, ever again. Her Uncle Garth lived on the western border of Rohan, and Linnea had always enjoyed being his favourite niece. The girl turned, expecting to see the angry expression in her father’s face. What am I to say? she thought as she hesitated.

Nothing could be done; if she was caught, it wouldn't exactly be a pleasant moment, and her father would be cranky all day, even though none had actually disturbed him in his sleep.

[ November 02, 2003: Message edited by: Writer of The Mark ]

Bêthberry

11-04-2003, 12:43 PM

OOC: Writers of The Mark, please welcome the following Shirlings into the list of Game Players for Rohan:

Tinuviel of Denton 7130
Elora 7611
Imladris 8304

I hope to see you joining us here at The White Horse while we wait for some new games here.

Bêthberry,
Moderator for Rohan

Ealasaide

11-04-2003, 01:55 PM

Once Etheldreda had disappeared into the crowd, Sigrid found herself again at loose ends. The fire in the stable still raged despite the better efforts of the many who worked at dousing the flames with the line of water buckets being handed down from the well. At least, the horses had stopped screaming, but the smell of singed hair and burning flesh now filled the air. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as she watched a man rush from the very mouth of the flames, his hair on fire. His face was a soot-streaked mask of grief. Someone from the line of bucket handlers stepped forward and beat the fire from the man's head, but he pushed his way onward into the crowd. Sigrid watched him as he ripped the scarf from his face and vanished into the throng of people.

Turning, she looked down at Kajsa, her dog. "I should make myself useful," she said softly. "Not just stand here like some village's missing idiot. You, stay." She pointed to a spot on the ground near the fence that seemed to be both out of the way of traffic and of danger. The black and white border collie whined softly, but lay down, resting her nose on her front paws.

Sigrid looked back in the direction of the fire. Not knowing what else to do, she tied the horses she had collected to the fence and placed her small bundle of belongings under the protection of the dog. Then, she turned and trotted in the direction of the bucket handlers. Pushing her way into the line, she found herself between two young men, both grim-faced and smelling of smoke. The one on her left had light hair and looked to her like a farm boy, a big strapping fellow, with bulging forearms and broad pleasant features. The one on her right had longer, dark hair and a slimmer, more wiry build. As he kept his face turned in the direction of the blaze, she was unable to get a good look at his features.

"'Ere ya go, sweet'eart," said the blond one behind her, passing her a full bucket. She handed it on the dark-haired man in front who took it without a word. "Coming back," the dark one said a moment later, passing back an empty bucket. She had no sooner let go of it into the hands of the blond than he handed her a full bucket in its place. In no time she fell into a rhythm, handing the full buckets forward, the empty ones back, all to the ongoing chant of the two young men: "'ere ya go", "coming back." She quickly lost count as the buckets became a blur. She was a strong girl, but soon her back and arms felt like so much deadwood. Nonetheless, she continued dutifully handing the full and empty buckets back and forth. "'Ere ya go." "Coming back." She had a feeling she would be hearing that chant in her sleep.

She wished they could slow down just a little bit, but the fire seemed to be growing hotter. People had begun to shout that they should start a second bucket line to wet the roof of the inn's main building so that the fire wouldn't spread there next. Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder toward the inn itself. So far, it seemed safe, but she could see the cause for concern. A breeze had picked up and sparks were now swirling freely around the courtyard. As she watched, a stray spark ignited a pocket of dry grass in the courtyard. A man quickly stamped it out, but Sigrid felt a chill race down her spine in spite of the heat. All it would take would be a single stroke of really bad luck and the whole place could go up in flames.

"Coming back," came the steady voice in front of her, but she barely heard it. She was looking anxiously in the direction of Kajsa, hoping that the dog was still safe and out of the way.

"Coming back!" the voice repeated. This time, she felt the empty bucket pressed into her side. Instinctively, she grabbed it, but when she looked up, she saw the dark-haired young man glowering at her with a pair of very blue eyes.

"Sorry," she murmured and passed the empty bucket back to the blond, who grinned as he took it from her hands and replaced it with a full one.

Imladris

11-06-2003, 06:06 PM

Faran swaggered easily down the dirt road with puffs of golden dust popping from underneath his sandaled feet. A crude hammer swayed from his leather belt, occasionally knocking him upon the thigh, while a soft leather pouch full of iron nails tinkled merrily beside it. His blonde hair was tangled and fell in a snarls to his shoulders, but his pale blue eyes smiled pleasantly as he looked eagerly about him, admiring the fields and pastures of Rohan. Upon his shoulders a cat crouched, his gold fur glittering in the sun. A white diamond of fur glimmered brightly upon his swarthy chest, and his grassy eyes, shot with gold, were narrowed in extreme contentment. Reaching up and stroking the cat’s back, which arched with pleasure, Faran said in a smooth voice, “How’s the view up there, Goldwine?”

Purring in reply, Goldwine softly nipped the young man’s ear. “Look, do you see that?” Faran asked. Billows of black smoke rose tumultuously into the blue sky, bright red flames licked hungrily at the wood of some building. Sprinting forward, he saw that there was another building, The White Horse Inn nearby, and, concluding from the presence of terrified horses, Faran concluded that the stable was the unfortunate receiver of the bad luck.

Goldwine, leaping from the shoulders of his master with a hiss that showed his yellowed fangs (one of which were missing), he quickly darted away into the underbrush. “Oh, you coward,” Faran called back as he went towards the line of people carrying buckets of water that were dumped onto the flaming building. “What can I do to help?” he asked a man who was busy filling the buckets with water and handing the then sloshing vessels to the men and women in the line.

“Find a place somewhere,” the man grunted, jerking a thumb. Raising his eyebrows, Faran, thinking that any simpleton would have been able to figure that out without having to ask, slipped between two people and began to pass the bucket. He shortly began to wonder if the fire would ever be doused.

[ 8:27 PM December 01, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

Ealasaide

11-06-2003, 06:19 PM

"Sorry," the blond girl murmured, taking the empty bucket from Ragnar and handing it on to his cousin behind her.

He realized as she turned away that he probably should not have glared at her the way he did, but she was holding things up. When one person slacked in a situation like a bucket line, it could hold up the entire works. You either had to take part and keep up or get out of the way. He and Olav had built up a good rhythm, handing the buckets back and forth and, for a while, she had kept up pretty well. He turned and took the full bucket from her hands.

Passing it on the man ahead of him, Ragnar looked forward into the smoke. Anybody could see that the stable was a lost cause. They should just let it burn and concentrate instead on keeping the fire from spreading to the rest of the inn’s grounds. Whoever it was back there yelling about starting a second bucket line had the right idea.

He took an empty bucket from the hands of the man in front of him and handed it back to the girl. Then, shaking his head, he stepped out of the line and pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, which he used to wipe the sweat and soot from his face. He could see the stable master from where he stood. The man had tried valiantly to save what horses he could, but now just stood there with his face in his hands.

“Poor guy,” Ragnar said to himself. “Wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.” Nonetheless, he was grateful that he had left his own horse well away from the inn’s grounds.

He walked a short distance away and, finding a spot against the fence, leaned back and watched the chaos. He could see Olav’s blond head and broad shoulders as his cousin worked away still on the bucket line. He knew that he should be helping as well, but, being the practical sort, he saw no point in wasting his strength on a lost cause. Idly, he watched the loose sparks swirling on the hot breeze in the courtyard. Those sparks were the truly dangerous part now. Turning his gaze in the direction of the inn’s roof, he saw precisely the sight he had been dreading. A gust of wind had carried some of the sparks upward over the inn’s main building. The roof had begun to smoke.

“Ah, confound it...” he muttered under his breath and crammed his handkerchief back into his pocket. He pushed himself away from the fence and began to sprint in the direction of the inn.

“Olav!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Olav - the roof!”

He watched just long enough to see Olav’s soot-streaked face turn in his direction, then turned his full attention to the problem of keeping the inn’s roof from catching fire. Looking ahead, he saw that a large tree grew just adjacent to the inn. He could easily reach the roof by way of the tree, but getting water buckets up there was another matter. Nonetheless, as far as he could see, it was the only way. Reaching the tree, he grasped the rough bark of the lowest limb and pulled himself up.

“Here,” said a voice behind him. “Take this. You can haul the buckets up with it.”

Ragnar turned and saw that a man, a stranger to him, had followed him to the tree and was offering him a rope. Ragnar grinned and, taking the rope, slung it over his shoulder. It tickled him to be handed up a rope by one of the good townspeople. He’d always seen himself as more the type to be dangling from one. He and Olav would have a good laugh about that later. In the meantime, he had work to do. He went back to climbing and gained the roof in no time. Stepping out on to the inn’s roof, he found it in much better shape than he had feared, smoking mightily, but only in a few places. He went to the edge of the roof and dropped the end of the rope down.

By then, Olav had joined the man who had provided the rope. He held a full bucket of water in each hand. The blond girl from the bucket line stood behind him with a third. The stranger took the end of the rope and tied it to the handle of one of Olav’s buckets. When the knot was secure, he gave the rope a tug. Ragnar hauled it up and dumped its contents on smokiest spot. They repeated the procedure over and over again. Each time an empty bucket went down, the Olav or the girl ran to the well to refill it. Finally, when the roof was thoroughly doused and no longer smoking, Ragnar tossed the rope down.

Exhausted, he sat down on the edge of the roof, letting his feet dangle over the side. From his vantage point on the roof, he could see that the bucket line over by the stable had finally begun to contain the fire.

[ 11:52 AM December 01, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaide ]

Bêthberry

11-06-2003, 10:32 PM

The heat of the flames was almost enough to blister her skin and singe her hair. Try as she might to enter the small lean-to at the rear of the stable, Ruthven could not, driven back as she was by the flames, the heat, the smoke and betrayed by her own aged body which refused to move as fast as she had wanted it to.

She looked with fearful apprehension as the flames spread through the stable, the screams of terrified animals mixing with the calls and cries of the humans as they attempted to contain the fire.

She watched the water brigade with some relief as they dowsed the Horse's roof with water to cool it down, but every timber from the stable that fell shook her frame. Fear mixed with hopeless despair shadowed her face.

A small hand placed itself in hers.

"What's wrong, lady? Why are you worried?" asked a young girl in a billowing nightgown.

Ruthven looked down at the earnest face, so smooth and soft and then at the small hand, so plump and tender in hers.

"Why, you must be new here. I don't know you," the old junk dealer replied.

"I'm Linnea. I'm visiting here with my dad. We're going to my uncle's so I can ride the horses again."

Ruthven nodded, wondering how many of the horses were freed from the fire.

"Don't be worried about the horses. I saw the people helping them."

Ruthven half smiled but there was no joy in her face. "It's not the horses I am worried about. It's my little friend. I couldn't find him in his room. I'm worried he chose to climb around the stable. I'm worried he is trapped inside."

Linnea squeezed the old woman's hand. "What's his name?" she asked.

"Madi," whispered Ruthven. "Madi Codex."

Writer of The Mark

11-07-2003, 11:18 AM

Luckily, she had been wrong this time; it wasn't after all her father. She had run down the staircases, in a hurry, in hope to reach the stable before it would have been up in flames. She hadn't been taking heed to all those who looked at her, suspecting that she was doing something she originally wasn’t supposed to do, or allowed.

As she found the door, just there with the reception she looked over her shoulder, assuring herself one last time; there was no one to stop her. Taking the door handle, shaking with excitement, she opened it and slid out. A breeze swirled around her, making the leaves fall and fly upon the waves in the air. She shivered as she realized the coolness in the air, but she didn't complain. Linnea approached cautiously. She closed her eyes tightly shut, as the heat increased. A woman, marked by the years, stood in front of Linnea. The girl saw her opportunity at once. She went over to the woman, who seemed both worried and confused. Linnea slid her hand, smoothly into the woman's, making it seem natural. Hopefully, no one would stare at Linnea now, wondering what a so young girl at her age, would be doing out here alone.

Linnea looked innocently at the woman, Ruthven, she was named. The woman stared down at the girl, who had just moments before taken Ruthven's hand.

The five years old little girl saw the expression in Ruthven's face, and decided to ask her, why she looked so troubled: "What's wrong, lady? Why are you worried?" The sound from Linnea's voice disappeared into the ocean of voices, coming from the people who were trying to turn out the fire. Nevertheless, Ruthven heard Linnea's question, and answered respectfully.

"You must be new here. I don't know you," Ruthven said, and made Linnea introduce herself.

"I'm Linnea," she said and pointed with the other hand at herself. She counted her fingers, showing the woman how old she was. "5," Linnea whispered. "I'm visiting here with my father. We're going to my uncle's so I can ride the horses again," she continued, being slightly pleased and feeling some sort of pride sneaking up on her. Linnea grew red, and turned towards the stable again. There they stood, not knowing each other, but still, hand in hand. She heard herself saying, in a thin voice when thinking about this, that the horses would be okay. "I saw the people helping them," she said, giving a faint smile.

The woman didn't seem less worried by this statement from the little girl. Linnea halted, what was it she didn't understand? She was okay with this, they would manage to take out the fire anyway. This was simply just an adventure for the young girl, who grinned, still not understanding the woman's issue. Linnea continued staring at the brave people, having the flames so close, but still standing there, doing everything in their power to prevent the fire spreading.

"It's not the horses I am worried about. It's my little friend. I couldn't find him in his room. I'm worried he chose to climb around the stable. I'm worried he is trapped inside," Ruthven assured Linnea, keeping a straight face, showing the seriousness in this whole affair. The girl couldn't understand this either. Her little friend? she asked herself and also the woman, standing next to her.

"His name is Madi Codex," Ruthven answered silently. Linnea took an extra firm grip of Ruthven's hand, her father was here.

[ November 10, 2003: Message edited by: Writer of The Mark ]

Bêthberry

11-08-2003, 04:36 PM

The Miller's Wife's Tale

"Ah ha, I've got you now!"

Lathyn's voice rang out as she jumped over Bethberry's spot but she landed awkwardly and fell in a heaping, puffing and shuffling and humphing.

"We made the snail too small," she proclaimed.

"Did we now," replied the older woman. "Should we make a new snail for a better game then?"

"Yes, yes. It's impossible to jump on such small shells."

"As you wish, my lady Princess," intoned Bethberry solemnly. Lathyn giggled.

"Do my bidding, Lady-in-waiting," Lathyn announced, putting on her best voice of regal command.

Bethberry curtsied and, with the tree branch, erased the too-small outline. This time, she took two giant steps for each 'shell' segment as she drew the spiral outline of the snail on the soft, sandy ground. Each 'shell' of the hopscotch game was now large enough for her to sit in.

"Will this do, your Highness?" she asked.

"It shall," Lathyn decided. "Proceed."

Jumping on her right foot, Bethberry hopped into each shell until she reached the centre of the snail. Then, jumping in little circular motions, she tried to turn herself around and begin the return journey to the outside of the snail, this time on her left foot, but switching feet muddled her balance. She made it to two shells before she fell.

"You forfeit your space! My turn, my turn!" Lathyn announced, with far less regal aplomb than her previous announcements.

The young girl was much more proficient than the older Innkeeper and soon had three spaces in the spiral reserved as her own before she fell and the game returned to Bethberry.

This time Bethberry did not falter despite having to jump over the two conjoined spaces which Lathyn had claimed. She had finally won a space of her own and chose the one next to the centre.

"There! That one's mine, fair and square," she cried, and started on her return, hopping now one her left foot.

"I can't see what fun you find in childish games," intoned a male voice. Deol had come up behind the two unannounced and his sudden words made Bethberry turn, awkwardly on one foot, and she fell again.

"Tut! I pronounce you Spoil Sport and Sneaky Grouch!" Bethberry decried, with as much dignity as she could muster to recover from her chagrined spill. "Speak more respectfully in front of the Princess."

"Princess Schmincess," he retorted. "There's so much work to do and you spend time getting nothing done."

"There'll be work enough when the babe is here, Deol. No need to deny Lathyn some fun."

"All she has is fun. She's just a silly child still," he unkindly retorted.

"And you're a miserable stinker," Lathyn cried, "always moping around me like you didn't like me."

"It's not that," Deol impatiently replid. But Lathyn's feelings had already been hurt. She ran at Deol and pushed him over.

"There! That's where you belong in front of me! On your bottom, knave."

Deol breathed a heavy sigh before Bethberry interposed. "Come, Lathyn. Let the knave get on with his duties while we attend to Her Majesty your mother."

Deol shook his head as the two walked haughtily off, whispering to themselves and dismissing him with nary a glance back.

"Will there really be so much work once the baby has come, Miss Bethberry?"

"Yes, for a time. Lots more laundry and your mother will never some help at first while she recovers. And the baby will require attention and care."

"Is is scary to have a baby, Bethberry?"

"Yes and no, Lathyn. There is a physical danger, as much as any man's work can endanger him, for it takes endurance and strength, courage and patience. Both bairn and mother are at risk at the birth and for some time after. And, as well, there are many dark worries and sombre fears that can take hold. Yet there is also great awe and wonder at the marvel of new life, for this is neither art nor craft but the only true creation."

Bethberry's more philosophic musings were more than Lathyn was interested in, however. The girl stuck resolutely to more direct issues.

"Have you ever had a child? People around here sometimes wonder about you. Why you are here and where you came from."

"Me? Simple and plain me arouses their curiousity?" Bethberry chuckled and Lathyn looked perturbed at the laughter. "No, my lass, I have not."

"Why not?"

"My, you are in a questioning mood today, Lathyn." The Innkeeper pondered for a few minutes as they walked the short hill towards the house. "I think perhaps Middle-earth has greater need of me these days than I could give if I had a wee one."

With that remark, the two entered the stone house, only to be brought to attention by Maedlyn's call.

"Lathyn? Bethberry? Have you returned? I think it's time," the Miller's wife called.

"You have pains? How close?" Bethberry inquired, as both came quickly to the woman's side.

Maedlyn shook her head. "No pains, no contractions. But my water brought. Yet all is still." The woman was calm, in control of herself, yet worry and concern showed clearly in her eyes.

"I know not what to do in this case. Lairwyn is needed now. Lathyn, run quickly back to Deol. Tell him that Bethberry bids him make haste, double-time, to bring the midwife from Edoras. He must stop what he is doing immediately and get her. Tell him to tell Lairwyn that the water has broken. This is important; he must tell her this. She will understand."

Lathyn looked scared, rooted to the spot. "What's happening? Is it dangerous? What's wrong?"

Maedlyn spoke kindly, lovingly to the girl, and took her hand in hers. "Nothing is wrong, my daughter. It is time, that is all, and we are unprepared, for the bairn is early." She smiled bravely at Lathyn, not wanting her concern to show.

Bethberry spoke up. "Your mother needs your help now, Lathyn. Be quick about it; it is not the time to play hedgehog, but fox. Send Deol off and tell him not to linger talking with your father. Then return to us, for we can ease your mother's labour with our words and attention."

Lathyn hung back a moment and then turned and ran, perhaps not as swiftly as a fox but fast enough.

[ November 09, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Writer of The Mark

11-12-2003, 03:39 PM

"Linnea?"

Her father came running towards Linnea and Ruthven, who were still standing, looking at the fire and how the flames developed greatly. The girl let go of Ruthven's hand, eyeing her father's expression, which implied that he was very angry.

"Where have you been, girl?" he said being furious with her. Was it only out of worry? Linnea didn't know. Ruthven, still being quiet, gazed at Linnea's father. "I am sorry for my daughter's behaviour," he continued, having quite another tone. "Up now, your room!" the girl?s father said angrily. Linnea saw the seriousness in the affair and started her way back. Ruthven gave a faint smile, telling the father that his daughter had done nothing wrong. "I was worried," Linnea heard her father excuse himself, in front of Ruthven. She shook her head, eyeing her father out of the corner of her eyes, asking to help with the buckets.

She sprang towards the Inn, not wanting to let her father down again. "Always," she muttered, being slightly disappointed that she couldn't be there when the flames would be under control. She grew angry with this thought, but slid inside the door, like she had just slid out of it half an hour before.

There were more people inside now than there had been earlier. Linnea passed the reception desk, which, higher than she was tall, hid what lay beyond it. She grinned as she thought about her father's worst mistake: letting his daughter wander to her room, alone. Why does he need to be the hero, when she discovered the fire first? It was unfair and totally out of character, from her father's side of course. She climbed the last stairs, still being angry, not wanting to forgive her father. "If that's the way he wants it, then he sure shall have it," she said with determination, pondering about her sweet revenge, which she would have one day.

Linnea halted as she heard someone coming, only around the corner. She stepped backwards, waiting for the person to appear right in front of her. She took a breath, and waited.

Linnea stood, still waiting. No one appeared! Had she imagined the foot steps? She shivered as she felt a breeze take her. Inside? Windy? The little girl opened her eyes wide, wondering where this cold air came from. She forgot all about the footsteps and went looking for the source instead. She turned on the corner, following the red carpet, which was placed in the hallway. Linnea stopped to look at one of the pictures, hanging on the wall. It seemed to be very old, and very valuable. She slid her finger on the golden frame. The picture was a portrait of a man, holding a sword.

"He looks brave, doesn't he?"

Linnea jumped backwards, noticing a boy, sitting in the corner by a window. The girl nodded in agreement, turning the other way to leave him. "You know," the boy said, taking a pause as he seemed to concentrate, while looking out of the window. "There's a fire out there, in the stable."

"I know," Linnea replied proudly. At first she wanted to tell this boy everything she knew, and that she had been out there, where the flames were. But then she remembered, she didn't know this boy. In fact, she had never seen him before.

The boy introduced himself, showing his teeth. Two of them seemed, strangely but true, to look like tusks, both in his bottom jaw. Linnea swallowed, still looking at him, and then she paced over to the window herself and settled in the chair ahead of the boy. His big round eyes followed her, as she moved, but she ignored them and stared out of the window.

Madi, she thought, while introducing herself. She thought it awkward, that this boy's name was oddly familiar.

[ November 13, 2003: Message edited by: Writer of The Mark ]

Ealasaide

11-12-2003, 10:13 PM

Looking up, Sigrid could see the polished boots of the dark-haired young man hanging over the side of the roof. He had worked like a madman, hauling the buckets hand over hand up to the roof, one after the other until the inn's roof had stopped smoking. Then, he had dropped the rope and, now, didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to come down. She noticed one foot swung idly back and forth. Following her eyes, the blond young man laughed and took the empty bucket she still held out of her hands.

"Oh, he's done, that one," he said pleasantly. "What's yer name, lass?"

"Sigrid Ivarsdottir," she said and dropped a polite curtsy. The blond man grinned and nodded in return. He had a pleasant face that reminded her much of the farm boys back home. Instantly, she felt comfortable with him. The other one, though, the dark one, she wasn't too sure about. He had strikingly beautiful eyes, but there was a volatile quality about him that set her somewhat on edge. She smiled at the blond man, but cut her eyes again toward the roof. Again, the blond man's eyes followed her gaze.

"I'm Olav," he said suddenly, drawing her attention away from the roof. “That one's my cousin, Ragnar." He tucked two of the three buckets under one arm and picked up the third in his free hand. He gestured toward the still smoldering stable with a nod. “I guess they’ll still be needing these over there. How are your arms holding up? I think they‘ll be needing us, as well.”

“Oh, fine,” answered Sigrid with a laugh even though her arms were beginning to feel like limp straw. Olav began walking back in the direction of the water brigade by the stable. Sigrid had to jog a little catch up.

“Do you live in Edoras?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Oh, no. Passing through. You?”

Sigrid shrugged. “I hope to stay. I guess it depends on whether or not I can find work.”

“What do you do?” asked Olav.

Once more, Sigrid shrugged. “I’m hoping to find a place as a weaver, but I suppose I could do most anything. You know, cook, clean, sew.”

Inexplicably, Olav stopped and winked at her. “I guess you could.”

Puzzled, Sigrid stared at his back as he rejoined the water brigade. What the dickens was that supposed to mean? She glanced quickly in the direction of where she had left her dog and small bundle of belongings and was relieved to see that both were still there. Kajsa, the dog, had shifted so that she now lay with one paw resting on Sigrid’s bundle. Her bright eyes watched the activity in the inn yard with interest. Seeing that all was all right over there, Sigrid returned to the bucket line, inserting herself between Olav and a blond haired boy of about sixteen. Handing her a bucket, the boy smiled and nodded politely. Sigrid smiled back. She could see a hammer and a pouch of what looked like nails hanging from his belt. He’s come at the right time, she thought to herself. Too bad I’m a weaver and not a carpenter myself.

Turning her attention again to Olav, Sigrid pushed a bucket into his hands. “What did you mean by that?” she asked, referring to Olav’s comment of a few seconds earlier.

“Only that you’re a pretty girl and I’m sure you can find work,” he answered with a far greater degree of solemnity than the situation called for. Then, he winked again.

Sigrid flushed hotly. Oh, my goodness, he’s flirting with me! She wasn’t entirely sure what to do, whether to continue talking to him or to run away. Usually she could hide behind her father or one of her brothers if one of the boys at market got too fresh, but now she was on her own. Not knowing what else to do, she turned to the boy on her other side.

“They’ll probably need some good carpenters to rebuild the stable,” she said pleasantly and handed him a bucket.

Imladris

11-13-2003, 12:11 AM

Forty-one...forty-two...forty-three...forty-four… Faran counted. Only forty-four buckets since he had arrived and it seemed as if he had been passing buckets his entire life. Amazing. Sweat streamed from his brow, and his skin tightened as it was dried by the scorching heat of the fire. He sniffed deeply, appreciating the rustic scent of the smoke that spewed like a dragon from the stables. Fire: what a beautiful thing it was and thrilling to the last. “Forty --” he said absently aloud. Bother. He had lost count in his musings. He shrugged: One…two…three…

A slim girl inserted herself between himself and another man. Forgetting to keep count, Faran studied her out of the corner of his eye: she had a single plait of hair falling down her back with little wisps fluttering from the main braid: the results of a hard day’s work. Her delicate face was smudged with black soot, marring her pale features. Her blue eyes looked a trifle nervous. Leaning back, he scrutinized the man beside her and heard him say, “Only that you’re a pretty girl and I’m sure you could find work.” He also saw the wink.
She was pretty…he got that right. Faran looked again: the guy was actually flirting with her…he shook his head. He saw the girl flush crimson as he handed her a bucket full of sloshing water and was surprised when she said, “They’ll probably need some good carpenters to rebuild the stable.”

He stared at the smoldering mass with the flames still leaping out of it and said, “I think that they’ll need some good carpenters to build a completely new, refinished and better stable.”

The girl smiled and he said, “What’s your name, girl? Mine is Faran.”

“Sigrid.”

“So, what do you do?” he asked. As he handed her another bucket he said, “Careful on the handle there…there’s a stray nail that could poke you.”

“I’m a weaver,” she replied. “Too bad I’m not a carpenter.”

“My mother could spin and weave,” he said softly. “She was kept busy always making new clothes for us. I remember her spinning the sheep’s wool into fine thread. I can almost hear the purr of the wheel as it spun and see the spokes blur together as it whirled and whirled.” To demonstrate, he rolled his eyes violently and grinned at her. “I would make myself dizzy watching it. As for not being a carpenter,” he added casually. “I’m sure I could teach you, if you wanted.”

Ealasaide

11-13-2003, 11:58 PM

Sigrid took the bucket from Faran's hands and passed it back to Olav, being careful not to make eye contact with the man. Faran was saying something about his mother and spinning that made Sigrid think of her own mother at home.

“As for not being a carpenter,” he added casually. “I’m sure I could teach you, if you wanted.”

Sigrid smiled warmly. “Maybe you could teach me for a bit. At least until I can find a job spinning or weaving. I’d like to help out.”

Faran turned and squinted into the smoke. “I’m sure they can use the extra hands.”

“I can do a bit of carpentry,” came Olav’s voice from behind her. “I’ll teach you as well.”

Sigrid turned to face him. “I thought you were just passing by.”

Olav grinned. “I am, but I’ll be around the inn for a while yet. Might as well make myself useful while Ragnar takes care of his business in town.”

Instinctively, Sigrid glanced toward the roof of the inn where Olav’s cousin still sat, dangling his feet and watching the flames engulf what remained of the stable. “Why isn’t he helping?” she asked.

“He did help. Now, I guess, he figures he’s done his bit. It’s about to burn out anyway.”

She turned and looked past Faran into the billowing smoke. It did look as though the fire had just about run its course. Even the pace of the bucket brigade had slowed. She could see a man, presumably the stable master, step forward into the smoking ruin. She didn’t think she would ever forget the expression on his soot-blackened face as he surveyed the wreckage. Self-consciously, she looked away. It felt wrong to intrude on his private grief.

Faran had apparently had the same thought and also turned away from the sad ruin of the stable. As his eyes lit on the face of Olav, though, she noticed a change come over his features. Faran’s previously carefree expression took on a narrow, almost hooded look. Clearly, he did not care much for the other man. Olav, on the other hand, paid the boy almost no mind at all. He caught Sigrid’s hand in his as she passed him the next bucket.

“Let me buy you dinner tonight,” Olav said quietly, his dark blue eyes sparkling mischievously. Unseen by anyone else, his fingers tickled her palm.

Shocked, Sigrid blushed furiously and withdrew her hand. “I-I have to go,” she stammered and quickly backed out of the bucket line. Casting one regretful look over her shoulder at Faran, she ran back to the place by the fence where she had left her belongings. Once she got there, she looked nervously in the direction of the bucket line, watching Olav’s rolling muscles as he handed bucket after bucket off to the slimmer, more wiry figure of Faran. As much as she hated to admit it, she found Olav intriguing. He was dreadfully cheeky, but he and his cousin were unlike anyone she had ever met before. Their worldliness with that touch of wildness fascinated her. She would just have to be careful of herself when she was around them. That was all.

If she wasn’t, she might find herself in a whole pile of trouble.

Aylwen Dreamsong

11-18-2003, 08:44 PM

Thanks to the help of all the townsfolk and Inn patrons, the stable fire had begun to die down. Braver men began to walk into the stables and stamp out small fires, while women continued to toss small pails of water onto smoldering embers. The stables were nothing more than a few ashy framing and ceiling beams, ashes, and horse remains. A good number of horses had been saved by devoted owners and, not quite to Aylwen's surprise, the thief Anwir.

"It's almost all out, Aylwen!" Leofan shouted over the chaos, and Aylwen waved a thank you as he continued to help put out the last of the flames. The Assistant Innkeeper had swallowed her original and quite uncalled-for self-pity, opting for the point of view that the burning stable had affected more people than just her. Aylwen had quickly remembered that feeling sorry for herself did nothing to solve the situation. All sorts of townsfolk had come to help Aylwen save the horses and get the fire put out.

Aylwen had worked carrying pails and blankets back and forth from the fence nearby and the Inn itself, running back and forth at others' need. If blankets were needed to put out smoldering embers, Aylwen had been there to hand out more blankets. Pails were relayed back and forth more than enough times to almost make Aylwen dizzy. But never once did Aylwen feel alone, or feel as though she were the only one working. Somehow, a feeling of unity had snuck up on her sometime during the incident; a welcomed surprise.

On one trip down to the fence, Aylwen ran into a young girl about her age, who was also on her way to the fence. The girl was small and fragile, with wispy blond hair tied back in a braid. Aylwen had never seen the girl before, but then, Aylwen was not from Rohan and she had not met most of the people helping her with the fire. I'll have to think of some way to thank them...Aylwen thought to herself just as he knocked into the smaller woman.

"Forgive me!" Aylwen apologized, smiling and giving the girl a gentle pat on the shoulder. "I'm Aylwen, the Assistant Innkeeper of the White Horse," Aylwen introduced herself, pulling a soot-streaked hand from out of her sleeve and shaking the young woman's hand. "I've not met you yet..."

"Oh, I'm Sigrid," the girl replied confidently, taking Aylwen's hand and almost surprising the Innkeeper with her firmness and assuredness. Aylwen nodded and put the pails she had been holding in her left hand next to the fence before turning back to speak to Sigrid again.

"Would you mind helping me tend to the horses?" Aylwen asked, not wanting to make the girl feel left out or unwelcome. Aylwen picked up a load of blankets and continued, "They're plenty scared, and some of them could use tending and comforting."

"I don't mind at all," Sigrid said eagerly, picking up a bundle of her own and proceeding to lead Aylwen to the first group of skittish horses she saw. They reached two lovely brown mares first, and Sigrid and Aylwen got straight to grooming them and blanketing them. Aylwen was not skilled with horses at all, and was a bit nervous herself coming up to a stranger's horse. Sigrid's confidence leaked over to Aylwen, and with her help Aylwen was finished grooming the horse in no time.

"You've no fear around horses," Aylwen intoned as she and Sigrid brushed the mane of a stocky little pony. The Assistant Innkeeper knew that in Rohan it might not have been any big feat to be easy around horses, but Aylwen could never take the smallest achievement for granted. Aylwen looked over the horse's whithers at Sigrid. "Are you from Rohan, then? Around here?"

"Yes, from Rohan, but not here in Edoras. I am from the highlands; my family had a sheep farm there," Sigrid replied, and Aylwen nodded as the two girls finished calming the pony. Aylwen draped a blanket over the pony's back and went to pat the horse once on its forehead.

"Thank you for helping me with the horses," Aylwen continued gratefully. "I'm so thankful for everyone's help, and I'm trying to think of a way to show them how much I appreciate this. That can come later, though. Let's go see where we are now, and everyone can give their input as to where we go from here."

Bêthberry

11-19-2003, 10:08 AM

With a quiet, knowing gaze, Ruthven had surveyed the imperious manner of the father and watched the look on the young girl's face, a corner of her mouth turned down, eyes cowering but frustrated. It was one thing to be protective of a young child's incautious behaviour, thought Ruthven, but another thing to bully without explanation and use the force of anger to demand submission. Ruthven wondered if there were any mother in the girl's life to teach her how to negotiate the stoney path of the powerless amidst the peremtory.

That thought brought back concern for another who seemed powerless. Ruthven turned to look at the flames, saw the lines and lines of children running with buckets from Edoras's central stream, saw the strangers who were protecting the Horse's roof from the swirling embers and sparks, saw other young girls with sure hands with horses. Then, with fear in her heart, the old junk peddler wondered how she could try to stop the flames from spreading to the back of the stable.

"Are you here to help as the others are?" she queried the father. "Show your strength in action and contribution."

"Do old women order men around these days in Edoras?" he retorted, but Ruthven had turned and left him behind as she sought to find if Madi was trapped in the flames. She called out to him repeatedly but no reply answered her calls.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Ruthven stared at the smoldering ruins while she complimented Aywlen on her thoughtful marshalling of forces to combat the fire. The Assistant Innkeeper had wisely seen that the children could lend a hand. Indeed, it had been their energetic racing back and forth which had brought the much needed water to the Horse, to supplement the Inn's own well. And strangers, so many strangers. The Inn was lucky indeed to have new guests who did not shirk to participate. Enough! Ruthven said to herself. It must be done. She walked over to a despondent Leofan.

"You did your best, man. Many horses were saved."

"Aye," he responded, with a resigned discouragement. "But not enough."

"Have you checked the ruins yet? Were many lost? Were there just horses?"

Leofan looked up at her, curiously. "I saw only charred animals. What do you mean?"

Ruthven shook her head. "I was worried," she murmured, as she wandered towards the smoldering ruins herself, looking for something she dared hope not to find. The stench of burnt horseflesh assaulted her nose but she could not sense that of human flesh. Her hopes rose.

[ November 19, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Ealasaide

11-19-2003, 10:19 PM

"Thank you for helping me with the horses," said Aylwen gratefully. “I’m so thankful for everyone’s help, and I’m trying to think of a way to show them how much I appreciate this. That can come later, though. Let’s go see where we are now, and everyone can give their input as to where we go from here.”

With a quick smile at Sigrid, the assistant Innkeeper took off at a rapid pace in the direction of the charred remains of the stable. Picking up her little bundle and with a quick chirp to the dog, Sigrid fell into step behind the young woman. Ahead of her, she could see the fire had nearly gone out. Some of the men, including Faran and Olav, were now walking into the ruins stamping out small fires with their boots. Women continued tossing water on the embers. With a glance at the Inn, Sigrid noticed that nothing was visible of Ragnar except his legs hanging over the side of the roof, one foot still swinging lazily. He had apparently lain back on his back to look at the sky.

“Peculiar,” murmured Sigrid, shading her eyes with her hand for a closer look.

“What’s that?” asked Aylwen over her shoulder.

“Nothing!” called Sigrid. But, then she added, pointing in Ragnar’s direction. “The young man on the roof seems to be taking a nap.”

Aylwen stopped and also shaded her eyes to look in the direction of the inn’s roof. “Hmm,” she said finally. “I hope he’s not ill. We’ll have a dickens of a time getting him down from there if he is.”

“Oh!” Sigrid covered her mouth with her hand. It had never occurred to her that Ragnar might be ill, perhaps from the smoke. After all, he had worked awfully hard up there all by himself to prevent the roof from alighting. But then her eyes returned to the languidly swinging foot. No, she decided, he’s actually loafing. Looking around at the distress and confusion that still filled the inn yard, she felt a surge of irritation. There was still so much to be done in the aftermath of the fire. He had quite a nerve to be loafing. And not just loafing. Conspicuously loafing. Especially after the way he had glared at her for breaking the pace for just a few seconds on the bucket line.

Frowning, Sigrid turned and jogged a few steps to catch up with Aylwen, who, by then, had nearly reached the charred remains of the stable. Just then, the wind changed direction and the stench of burned horseflesh struck her nostrils full force. Sigrid stopped in her tracks. Instinctively, she dropped a hand toward the dog, who stuck her cold nose into Sigrid’s palm. She couldn’t go any farther. The place smelled like death. Feeling suddenly light-headed, Sigrid dropped her little bundle of clothes and sat down on it, wrapping one arm around the shaggy black and white shoulders of her dog. She had been to the site of another fire, years ago when she was just a little girl. It had been her uncle’s place. The smell had been the same...she didn’t want to think about it...

Sigrid thought she was going to be sick. Lowering her head, she tried not to breathe the foul air. She would breathe again when the wind shifted.

Imladris

11-19-2003, 11:23 PM

Faran arched his back and stretched, listening with unconcealed pleasure to the resounding pops of his back. Looking around to see if he could find someone in charge, he saw that Sigrid was crouched over her dog -- it looked as if she was trying not to breathe. Making his way over to her, he squatted beside her, scuffed the dogs ears, and said, “You alright, Sigrid?”

“I’m just remembering something that happened years ago,” she said. “My uncle’s place burned down…” her voice trailed off and, after a pause, said, “And the stench --”

She didn’t go farther and he knew what she was going to say. It was awful and overpowering. Instead, he breathed deeply, gagged, and said, “It’s not so bad, once you get used to it.” It actually did seem to be diminishing, but a breath of wind redoubled its force.

Sigrid smiled with amusement at Faran and said, “You get used to it?”

“Well, some people get used to it and others don’t,” Faran replied knowingly. “Fortunately, I am one of those people,” he added, somewhat loftily.

She raised an eyebrow and said, “Really?”

“Really. Do you know who the innkeeper is?”

“That woman over there,” Sigrid said, pointing Aylwen, “she seems to have some authority here.”

“Thanks. Uh, Sigrid, I’m sorry,” he said, somewhat uncomfortably. Then, turning swiftly, he found the woman, who was standing beside the charred remains of the stable. Approaching her, Faran said, “I have skill as a carpenter and I would like to offer my services to help the Inn build a new barn.”

[ November 20, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

Writer of The Mark

11-21-2003, 04:12 PM

Linnea and Madi sat quietly, watching the stable and crowd of people who had gathered around it, to get a better view. Linnea watched her father, giving a short comment to Ruthven through clenched teeth. Ruthven left suddenly, as if the girl's father had offended her. Linnea shook her head, bending over to get a better look at where her father turned.

He walked slowly towards the crowd, where they were eagerly collecting buckets. He made his way through, and started filling some buckets as well.

"Is you father down there, also?" Linnea asked the boy. At first Madi didn't reply. The expression in his face told the girl that this was private business. She muttered, before she turned her head out the window again. Where are his parents?" she thought, meanwhile trying to figure it out, even though it was nothing which concerned her.

Linnea glanced downwards, seeing Ruthven one last time before the old woman was out of Linnea's reach. Of course! Ruthven! The girl took Madi's hand. "She is looking for you!" she burst out. Linnea sprang up from her chair, smiling. "Ruthven is looking for me?" The boy asked, being very surprised, but yet totally calm about what the girl was saying.

"Yes, yes!" Linnea reassured him. Madi seemed pleased with this answer, and followed the girl who was springing towards the staircases. They rushed downwards, Madi following the girl closely behind. They only halted as they passed an old man, who waved his hand towards them and muttered grumpily. Madi and Linnea stopped. The old man however, didn’t seem to be in interested in stopping himself, to have a word with the children, who according to him, surly seemed to be out of character for their age; running about at an Inn.

Linnea and Madi looked strangely at each other, not knowing what to say. They trudged on, feeling no awkwardness towards the old man’s sudden ‘attack’. They passed the reception desk, which to Linnea’s annoyance was way too tall for her. She gazed up on a woman, who probably didn’t see the children, but this was probably for the best. Madi rushed towards the door, taking his hand around the door handle. “Wait,” Linnea said, thinking about her father and his words which he had expressed so angrily. "Up now, your room!" he hadn’t even formed a real sentence. It was just an angry voice, coming from a frustrated man, who was apparently , her father.

Did she dare break the rules; to cross her father’s words?

Madi waited, standing unsympathetically to the girl’s sudden caution. “I am not really allowed to go outside again,” she muttered, being frustrated and annoyed.

“Umm… Well then,” Madi said, as if this was a goodbye for now. “Ah, it doesn’t matter,” Linnea said, taking a large step towards the door, and opening it. Her father would not stand in the way for her, Linnea thought. This was her mission, to take Madi to Ruthven. “Let’s go,” Linnea said, taking the boy’s hand. She ducked, as she got a glimpse of her father about hundred paces away.

We must not be seen……

Ealasaide

11-21-2003, 11:50 PM

Ragnar lay on his back on the roof gazing up at the fluffy white clouds that floated by overhead against the backdrop of azure sky. His arms ached pleasantly from the hard work of hauling the water buckets up to the roof, but not so that he couldn't do it all again should the necessity arise. Since the fire seemed virtually extinguished along with the threat it offered, however, he felt no urgency to get moving again. It was pleasant up on the roof. The sun was warm, the smoke smell not too bad, although he knew his own clothes were laced with it. He sighed and laced his fingers behind his head. It seemed ironic that something so tragic as the fire should happen on such a lovely day.

Finally, he sat up again and looked down at the activity still taking place in the inn yard. He could see Olav along with some of the other men and women still working at putting out the last smoking embers of the fire. The blond girl who had helped at hauling buckets over to him was huddled on the ground some distance away, hugging a sheepdog. He watched as she raised her head and pointed a blond kid in the direction of the assistant innkeeper, then dropped her head again. Something about her didn't look quite right. Since Olav seemed busy and Ragnar didn't really know anyone else, he decided he would check on the girl. Pulling his feet up, he walked over to the tree and, with the grace of a cat, swung himself down through the branches to the ground.

When he reached the girl, he knelt down beside her and, to be on the safe side, held out a loose fist to the dog. "Hey," he said to the girl. The dog gave his fingers a suspicious sniff.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She raised her head and he was instantly struck by the paleness of her skin. She nodded. "The smell got to me."

He nodded. "Yeah. It's pretty nasty. Nothing like roast horsehair."

The girl blanched and lowered her forehead into the crook of her elbow.

"Sorry," he added.

"No, it's not that." The girl's muffled voice answered. "It's just...it's just the other fire."

Startled, Ragnar looked around. "What other fire?" The fire was out. What other fire? He glanced toward the roof of the inn, but it yielded no evidence of smoke or fire. In fact, nothing except the charred rubble of the stable showed any hint of fire. The girl shook her head.

"At my uncle's place when I was seven. It smelled just like this. I had forgotten until the wind turned..." she paused and swallowed hard. Ragnar watched as her shoulders contracted in a dry heave. He reached out a hand to touch her back, but withdrew it abruptly as the dog growled deep in its throat. He noticed then that the dog had mismatched eyes, one blue and one brown, both of which watched him with threatening intensity. Very slowly, he lowered his hand.

"They lost horses?" he asked gently.

The girl shook her head. "Just a sweet old plow horse named Daisy," she answered to the contrary of her gesture.

"Well, that's not too bad."

"And two of my cousins." Her shoulders shook again with another dry heave. "Ingmar and Ilsa. Ilsa was just three. My uncle never got over it.”

“Oh...” Ragnar answered helplessly. He didn’t know what to say to that. He had never been good at comforting people. For lack of any other ideas, he started to raise his hand to make another attempt at touching her back, but lowered it again at the sight of the dog’s curling lip and white canines. The dog growled again, but this time the girl gave her a quick squeeze.

“Hush, Kajsa.” The girl swallowed again, obviously trying hard not to breathe.

The dog stopped growling, but, unseen by the girl, continued to bare her teeth in Ragnar‘s direction. Ragnar sat back on his heels.

“You’re not sick,” the girl said suddenly.

“What?”

“I saw you up on the roof swinging your feet. The innkeeper thought you might be ill.”

“Oh,” Ragnar grinned. “Nah. Not sick.”

“Why aren’t you helping with the fire, then?”

Ragnar shrugged. “I will. I did. But right now, I’m helping you.” He stood up. “If your dog would let me, I’d get you out of the main draught of the wind. You’d feel better.”

With her face still buried in the crook of her arm, the girl nodded. Carefully, she let go of the dog and pushed herself to her feet, picking up the little bundle she had been using as a hassock. She leaned heavily on Ragnar’s arm when he offered it and, slowly the two of them made their way out of the portion of the yard that was directly downwind from the stable. Instantly, the girl began to breathe easier. The dog, however, continued to regard Ragnar with narrowed eyes. It began to strike Ragnar as comical.

Still helping the girl along, he threw a glance over his shoulder to see what Olav was up to, only to find him standing still in the smoking ruins of the stable, watching him, his feet planted firmly in the ashes and a dark scowl on his face. Ragnar grinned and dropped him a wink.

ElentariGreenleaf

11-22-2003, 09:01 AM

Findur leaned against the side of the inn away from where the fire had now been extinguished. His horse, Braelin, grazed not far away, though he was unaware of his master’s gaze upon him. How many horses had died in the terrible fire? Findur hoped that Byrn had survived. Aldor had loved that horse. As if to answer the Rohirrim’s question, a man with a blackened face and a large patch of singed hair walked aimlessly past. It took Findur several moments to recognise his dear friend Aldor. He noticed that Aldor’s eyes were half closed with little light being reflected. Findur was saddened to realise Aldor’s expression of misery was due to the death of Byrn.

“Aldor, I’m sorry,” said Findur, not knowing what else to say. He friend merely looked at him expressionlessly. “Your face, it needs to been seen to. It’s burnt,” he added, as Aldor gave him a confused look and touched his face. Aldor’s hand drew back quickly as pain shot through his face, as though it had only just appeared, though in truth he had been too much in shock to notice before now.

“You should have searched for him,” said Aldor monotonously. “You could have saved him, but instead you chose to be satisfied with saving your own horse.”

Findur was not surprised that Aldor was acting like this, but it still affected him deeply. “You know it wasn’t like that Aldor. I would have gone back in, by the flames were too fierce.”

“Oh really?” said Aldor angrily. “You didn’t see me cower away from the flames did you? I would have gone back in if it had been the other way around!”

“But it wasn’t the other way around, Aldor. Calm down.”

“Calm down?” roared Aldor. “I’ll give you ‘calm down’!” Without warning Aldor swung at Findur, landing a blow square on his chin. There was a loud crack and Findur spat out a broken tooth in the midst of some blood. He looked up at Aldor, but quickly ducked as he saw another blow come his way, though he couldn’t avoid the third and was hit hard in the ribs. He felt one crack, but he was little concerned about himself. He had to stop Aldor before someone with a sword did.

“Aldor, you’re being foolhardy!” As Aldor took another swing at him, Findur grabbed his arm with his left hand and punched him between the ribs with his right. Aldor staggered backwards, gasping for breath. He recovered quickly, and ran at Findur, knocking him painfully into the corner of the Inn. His head crashed against it, causing Findur to go extremely dizzy. Blood poured from a wound on the back of his head and he found it difficult to avoid Aldor’s blows. Now nearly every rage-driven punch was hitting Findur, with extreme force. He swung at Aldor, but Aldor dodged and used the opportunity to pummel Findur has hard as he could in the ribs. Another one broke.

[ November 22, 2003: Message edited by: ElentariGreenleaf ]

Imladris

11-22-2003, 11:57 AM

I licked my golden fur as my master, Faran, dashed boldly into the two-legged fray to put out that dastardly fire. I, most sensibly I might add, hid in the bushes. Fire was a devouring monster and would not hesitate at the chance to gobble down a princely cat as myself.

Let me introduce myself: I am Goldwine and accompanied Faran to this inn. I don’t really know what our previous destination was or if we even had one so I suppose this inn is as good as any. I frowned: we were wanderers, he and I: Faran by choice, I by loyalty imposed duty. I wanted a haunt, I wanted a place that could be called my own, but was I granted it: certainly not. My only haunt was Faran’s shoulders. That, at least, was not denied me.

The wind brought forth a stench so pungent that it made me gag. I could feel the mephitis fume travel through my twitching nostril and pass over my tongue. My stomach heaved wretchedly and I wanted to throw up, which I couldn’t: dignity would not allowed that. I observed Faran speak with a woman with a border collie and I could tell that he didn’t care for the redolence of death that floated by him either. I watched him breathe deeply and I was proud of him: I, at the very least, had taught him to be impervious to such a minor thing as this.

I did feel sorry for the poor horses, though, and I wondered if any had died. I shrugged. What were horses to me? The only thing we had in common was that we ate grass - and that we had four legs - and that we had the same organs - and that we would both suffer the same fate in the end. I sighed. We weren’t so different, the labouring brutes and I.

I still noticed that Faran and the girl were still speaking to each other, and that the border collie as weakly hiding her sense of smell in the girl’s hand. I snorted disdainfully: stupid dogs. Emerging from the bushes, I minced towards the canine, my gold eyes glittering. I tried to decide how to best annoy the creature: most dogs enjoyed it when we felines teased them, scratched them, hissed at them. I tended to avoid hissing because my relatively small fangs drew unwanted attention from the dogs who had substantially larger ones. The dog did seemed to be much attached to her mistress, the girl, and therein, I deemed, was her weakness.

Subtly changing course, I neared the girl, but -- what’s this? She was leaving upon the arms of another man! My ploy was failing! I gasped and trotted quickly after all, and studied him. Drat him! Foiling me and all my well laid plans! I wouldn’t let her go and the chance to annoy such a dog as that collie go by so easily. With a mighty leap I flung myself onto her shoulders and steadied myself, letting my tail curl about her chin. Humans have a weakness for that: it nearly always makes them like me.

[ November 23, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

Bêthberry

11-23-2003, 06:49 AM

OOC Game players and Game Managers of Rohan, please welcome Elentari Greenleaf to Rohan as not only a Game Player but Game Manager as well.

Good work in The Shire last summer on the game Hunt for the Dragon and tremendous posts here in The White Horse, Elentari. I look forward to gaming with you in Rohan.

Bêthberry,
Moderator for Rohan

[ November 24, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Writer of The Mark

11-23-2003, 08:08 AM

The two children realised soon enough that they would never be able to find Ruthven from here. Linnea's father was too close. They decided to go inside again, and find their way to the backdoor. This would be a much better starting point for the two of them, in hope not to be caught by Linnea's strict father. They hurried to slide through the door again, running through the common room.

"Here," Madi said, and pointed. Linnea followed. This boy clearly knew the Inn very well. Linnea wondered why.

Soon they were outside again, after using the back door. They were now standing behind the Inn, at the back entrance. This meant that the stable was well and 'far' away. Linnea could nevertheless hear voices from the people who were trying to put out the fire, and water which was thrown at the flames and made this hissing sound. She shuddered, looking up at Madi, who was standing looking out in the blue. "What are you looking at?" Linnea asked, when getting no response of any form, whatsoever. He hushed at her, again pointing.

"Do you see that tree?" he asked the girl, as she went forwards to have a better look. “Yes,” she answered. Madi hurried after her, but stopped however, when they reached the wall’s end. If they went around the corner now, someone might spot them. “We should get over there, and hide behind that tree!” Madi said, having a certain excitement in his voice. Linnea hesitated, while thinking of this. “We will be able to spot Ruthven then, without getting seen ourselves,” Madi continued, now overjoyed. Linnea agreed, this was indeed a brilliant plan.

They decided to halfway crawl and halfway bend down, to make themselves as small as possible. This was an excellent way to get unnoticed from the back of the Inn to the tree, standing some fifty paces away from the stable. Linnea halted;” It looks like someone is already sitting there,” she said nervously. Madi stopped crawling as well, and tried to get a better view, by stretching his neck for all it was worth. “Yes, you’re right,” he added. “But I don’t think that person will be a threat to our mission. If the person was, then he or she might as well…” he stopped. “Um, now I see, it’s a woman,” he said interrupting himself. He started again, meanwhile starting to crawl. Linnea followed. “You see, if that woman was a threat, she would likely not have been sitting by a tree when the stable is burning,” he said convincingly. Linnea agreed to this too, but added that the fire looked as if it was under control. “Only smoke,” she muttered merrily. Still, if there was no fire anymore, then her father had to be heading towards the room again, at the Inn. What would he do, when he couldn’t find his daughter there? He, was indeed a threat.

They sprang the last paces, hopefully not being seen my any adults, especially not by certain fathers...

"Children, I am delighted that you are here. Do you mind taking this to the Innkeeper?" she started, and continued before neither Linnea nor Madi could say anything: "Bethberry, I believe her name is." She looked at them, handing Madi a drawing. Linnea suddenly became aware of the danger they had put themselves in.

"Quickly, behind the tree," she urged Madi while running there herself. The woman looked oddly at them, but followed. She sat comfortably down with the children, giving a short laugh. None of them said anything, Linnea just tried to avoid the woman's eyes, which so eagerly stared at her and Madi.

"Bethberry is not here," Madi said, excusing himself. "She'll be back later though," he added as soon as he saw the disappointed expression in the woman's face. "Will you give it to the assistant Innkeeper then?" the woman asked, after while. Madi nodded. Meanwhile Linnea felt frightened by this woman's straight forwardness, about getting her own urgent errands done.

"Alywen, you mean?" Madi asked, even though he knew the answer. "What is this then?" he asked, while looking at the piece of paper. It appeared to be a drawing of a building; a one floor building, which had several small doors, odd doors, if Linnea could add. This could not be an ordinary building, or rather, it didn't look like it. Linnea snorted, making the lady move a bit to the left so Linnea could have a better look.

"Here," the woman said, having the brown hair in her eyes. "Now run my children, and please give this to Alywen, so she can give it to Bethberry when she returns. I must attend a birthday party, so you'll be my errand bearers today."

She gave a smile, before leaving them, hurrying away from the tree. Madi and Linnea could get a few glimpses of the woman, before she disappeared in the ocean of people, who had gathered around the Inn’s stable.

The children looked at the note, which the woman had slid down in Madi's hand. Linnea was only able to catch a name, before Madi closed his hand and raised:

Idona....

[ 10:24 AM December 02, 2003: Message edited by: Writer of The Mark ]

VanimaEdhel

11-23-2003, 01:57 PM

Castar sat on the cold ground, wiping the sweat off of his face with the wrinkled shirt he had hurriedly put on when he heard the shouts through the window of his room. When the calls of alarm at the fire began, he and Windheneb were in their room, asleep for what they thought would be the whole night. Castar had finally managed to pry his attractive young friend away from the women and they turned in about an hour before the fire started. When the cries started, Castar awoke first. He shook his friend, and the two ran down to help. They found most of the inhabitants of the Inn and many from the town already their, aiding in the disaster that befell the Inn. Castar sought Aylwen as soon as he could, checking on her well-being. Windheneb wandered, and could now be seen flirting with a young maiden from the town that he obviously knew.

Castar coughed a bit in reaction to the smoke that still plagued his lungs. He rose to his feet and looked around at the remains of the stable. At least Tinu was alive. That had been another thing that Castar checked when the fire subsided. The poor bay horse was a bit frightened, but he would survive.

The potter absently brushed some hair out of his face, only to find it more difficult, as the hair was plastered to his face with sweat. Castar sighed and longed for a bath to wash the dirt and sweat off of himself.

Windheneb approached Castar after he finished his consultation with his young female acquaintance. He smiled brightly as he stood with his friend.

“Why such a dour expression, my friend?” he asked, “We are safe. The fire is no longer a threat. And,” he added, nodding towards the poor horse, “You still have your traveling companion. That is more than many here can say.”

Castar nodded. “I suppose,” he said, “I should feel lucky. But I still feel sorry for those others that will have no means of returning home from the fair.”

“Ah, my noble chum, they will find aid in this town. We are generous when it comes to those in need. Speaking of aid,” Windheneb said, changing topic, “As I passed some of those that work in this good Inn, I heard them discuss the necessity of reconstructing the barn. I hoped you might have the ability to remain here and aid in the project. I intend to lend my own abilities to this undertaking.”

Castar looked at Windheneb. He truly wanted to stay a bit with the good Lady Aylwen. Windheneb was also a pleasant companion, even if he did have a more than healthy interest in the opposite sex. But his parents did expect him to head back home the following day. Castar explained this lamentable circumstance to Windheneb, who merely smiled.

“I knew you would say something along those lines. Hence why I had Bea fetch Zîra. And here she comes now!”

Castar was about to ask who Bea was, but thought better of it. It was most likely the pretty young lady Windheneb was chatting with a few minutes ago. A girl came around handing water to the men that had aided with the extinguishing of the fire. Castar took the mug and took a drink, looking in the direction Castar had looked in when he claimed to see his sister, Zîra coming with another girl that had to be another of Windheneb’s relatives by her appearance. In his haste to drink the water and his surprise at his rediscovery of the beauty of Windheneb’s family, Castar nearly choked on the water, spraying it at Windheneb a bit.

“Calm, friend! You act as though you did not meet Zîra already,” Windheneb said, laughing heartily.

“Who is the other girl?” Castar asked as they approached. His face, already a little red from a fire, was now redder still both from his choking and his embarrassment.

“Wait for them to come and maybe you shall find out,” Windheneb said, still chuckling. “And I think I will take this before you do any more harm.” He took the mug of water from Castar and drank the rest. He placed the mug on the ground and smiled at his approaching sisters.

“Zîra, you brought Kalia,” Windheneb said merrily. “That is well, for I do not believe that she met our good friend, Castar.”

“Luthur, we meet again, I see,” Zîra said, smiling at Castar, who, in his staring, nearly forgot that Luthur was, in fact, his given name. “I trust all is well? You did not lose anything in the fire, did you?”

“I – erm…no. Tinu is well. Tinu is my horse. He is over there. He is a bay,” Castar said, losing his tongue.

“I am familiar with horse colors, yes,” Zîra said, smiling. “This is Kalia, my cousin. Oh, and, Windheneb, Bea told me what you wanted me to do, hence why I brought Kalia. I believe she will be able to do what you ask. I, as you seem to have forgotten, do have mouths to feed at home.”

“It is just as well, Sister,” Windheneb said, smiling.

Kalia finally spoke. Her voice was merry, although still a bit naïve in its nature. “What do you need, Winny?” She ruffled his hair as she asked. Windheneb flinched both at the gesture and the comment.

Windheneb explained that Castar desired to stay in the town, but his parents expected him home. He wanted Kalia to take Tinu to Castar’s home to tell Battir and Phâryn of Castar’s decision to stay in the town for a time. Kalia nodded and smiled. Castar noted that she already had on a riding skirt, with slits in the front and back. She obviously already knew what Windheneb would ask her. Kalia agreed to make the trip to Eodrath, provided Castar gave her directions.

As Castar saddled Tinu, he told Kalia how to get to Eodrath. One basically just had to follow the road. Since she was riding without many supplies, it should take no more than two or three days to get there and back. Castar cautioned Kalia about robbers and potholes and the like. He began to tell her how to ride a horse when Kalia grabbed his hand. This touch stopped his talking immediately.

“I have ridden before,” she said, smiling, “In fact, it is far from my first time. I am perhaps the second best female rider in the family, second only to Zîra. I will get Tinu to your home and back safely. I promise that I will not get into trouble.”

Castar smiled and blushed as the girl let go of his hand and swung up onto the sixteen-hand bay as easily as if he were a pony. Castar watched as she galloped into the dark.

“Will she be safe?” Castar asked Windheneb as he rejoined his friend beside Zîra.

“There is no better person to undertake that chore,” Zîra said comfortingly, “Kalia knows how to take care of herself. She is more of a tomboy than she seems.”

“And she’s gone, you can put your tongue back in your mouth,” Windheneb teased. He flinched as Zîra smacked him on the back of the head for the comment.

Castar smiled at the two siblings. He scanned the crowd for Aylwen. She was speaking with some of the other villagers and seemed to be busying herself with tending to those that needed aid of any sort.

“M’Lady Aylwen,” Castar said as he crossed over to her. She looked at him and smiled briefly. “I just wanted to tell you that I will stay and aid in the rebuilding of the barn…as long as it takes. Windheneb sent his cousin to tell my parents.”

“That is good,” Aylwen said, “We can use all the help we can muster.”

“Windheneb will be helping too,” Castar said, helpfully. It was obvious that Aylwen was occupied, so Caster politely took his leave of her and returned to Windheneb and his sister. When Castar returned, Zîra took her leave and wished both men a good night.

Windheneb and Castar stood among the people, looking for a sign of what needed to be done in the hopes of assisting any that needed attention.

“I wonder if there will be anything done this evening,” Windheneb mused out loud. “I doubt it. They shall probably want a fresh start in the morning. There is no harm in waiting. I could not sleep if I desired, I do not believe.”

“Nor could I,” Castar admitted, watching Aylwen be useful, running errands and the like. She made him feel so useless. He wished he knew what he could do to be of service to the good people of the town. Well, he was going to aid with the rebuilding of the barn.

*********************************************

OOC: Welcome Elentari Greenleaf!

The X Phial

11-23-2003, 10:59 PM

Lathyn found Deol stalking back toward the mill. She matched his pace and tugged on his sleeve impatiently.

"What do you want, girl? Unlike you, I have things to do. I don't have time to be pushed around by a child all day."

The girl stopped, hurt, and watched as her 'betrothed' stomped on toward the clanging mill. She considered running past him and into the mill herself. She could get her Papa to tell Deol to go himself. Then he'd learn not to ignore her!

Then again, last time she had gone into the mill by herself she had been punished and told it was too dangerous for her. Sighing, she tried again.

"Deol, my Mama needs Lairwyn. You need to go to Edoras right away!"

He stopped and turned. "What did she say?"

"That her water was cracked and that you need to tell Papa and then hurry to the city and tell Lairwyn to come back."

Deol looked into her face and saw real concern there. He pushed down his annoyance with the girl and concentrated on what she was saying. He didn't know what cracked water was, but it sounded bad.

"Go back inside, Lathyn, and help your mother. I will ride as soon as I have told your father," he said, and watched her run back up the path.

He, in turn, sprinted to the mill and found Aldhelm overseeing the grinding.

"The stones need oiling, Deol," was his greeting.

"I will do it when I return from Edoras, sir, but just now your wife needs a midwife. I am riding to find Lairwyn."

Aldhelm turned to his apprentice, excited. "It is time now, is it?" He beamed and then a look of worry settled unto his features.

He took Deol by the arm and led him out into the sunshine where the grinding of the giant stone would not interrupt their conversation.

"How close is she?"

"I don't really know, sir. Lathyn said something about cracked water."

The miller chuckled. "I think she meant broke. The water has broken. Ah, then it is soon indeed. Take Leothal, then. He is fast and will not tire on the trip to town. I hope the midwife does not mind riding without a cart."

He handed Deol a bag of coins and patted him on the back.

"Take these coins to her, and tell her the babe is on its way."

They strode up the path together, Deol stopping at the stable and Aldhelm making his way to the house.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Deol found Lairwyn's house without difficulty, and soon they were on their way back to the mill. Lairwyn eschewed a cart in favor of her own steed since that would bring them back to the river more quickly.

"I am only glad she was not stabbled at the Horse," she said as she saddled her mare.

"Why not?" Deol inquired.

"Did you not see the smoke? The White Horse's stable was aflame earlier. The horses bolted. Thank goodness no one was seriously hurt, at least not that I have heard."

"Bethberry will not be happy to hear of this fire, I shouldn't think. She was supposed to stay at the mill tonight."

Lairwyn frowned to herself. "I will have to serve as both midwife and friend in her stead. Bethberry is needed in Edoras."

They passed the gate guards easily, as Deol was well-known to them, and were soon hurrying back to the mill. Haste was needed, for there was both news and an infant that needed delivery.

Ealasaide

11-24-2003, 10:47 PM

Olav walked through the smoldering ruins of the stables stamping out small fires as he came to them, or pointing out hot spots to the women and children who followed with buckets. As he went, he noticed the burnt corpses of several horses who had perished in the fire and felt a stab of pain at the sight of each one of them. Poor creatures! All they did was serve, selflessly carrying their riders until they dropped if that was what was asked of them. He wondered what could be done about burying them. They deserved better than to lie there in the ashes. He had a strong back. He could help.

Sighing, he turned to look for the little farm girl, Sigrid. He knew he probably should not have been quite so forward with her right away, but something about her wide-eyed country girl charm had filled him with the urge to tease her just a little bit. He could always make amends later. When he finally located her, though, he stopped short in his tracks. Leaning heavily on Ragnar's arm, she was heading for the front door of the inn. Olav felt a flash of fury as just at that moment Ragnar chose to throw him a grin over his shoulder and a sly wink. Olav scowled darkly in response.

It wasn't that Sigrid was the prettiest girl in town. She wasn't. A real beauty had just galloped out of the yard on the back of a bay horse. So, why was he so angry? Well, for one thing, he liked her. He liked the way the corners of her lips turned up when she smiled. He liked the way she tilted her head when she asked him a question. And, he liked the way she threw herself into the hard work of the bucket line without hesitation even though she was just a skinny little thing. She would be nothing to Ragnar, just a moment's fun before he was off to something else. Olav decided right then that he wouldn't allow it to happen this time. He was tired of Ragnar, with his striking good looks and slick charm, moving in on every girl Olav had ever taken a liking to.

As he started in the direction of Ragnar and Sigrid, he stopped short as a yellow tabby cat appeared out of nowhere and leaped up on to the shoulders of the girl, wrapping its fluffy tail around her neck. She straightened abruptly, letting go of Ragnar's arm, and reached back to touch the cat. He watched as Ragnar reached for the cat, as well, but she waved him off. It was then that Olav caught sight of the dog at Sigrid's knee. Caught up in the surprise of the cat, neither Sigrid or Ragnar noticed as the dog crouched behind them, gazing fixedly up at the cat. Then, with a single high-pitched bark, the dog launched herself at the cat.

Yowling, the cat puffed himself up to what Olav thought was roughly twice his previous size, and arched his back, digging his claws into Sigrid's shoulders. She screeched and tried to grab the cat, which only made the cat panic and try climbing from her shoulders to the top of her head. The dog jumped again and the cat, seeking higher ground, leaped from the girl's shoulders straight at Ragnar's face. He tried to block it with his arm, but the desperate cat caught hold of his sleeve with all four paws and climbed up his arm to his shoulders. Then, with a mighty spring, the cat launched himself from Ragnar's shoulders into space, landing a good eight feet away with the black and white border collie close on his heels. The two animals bolted from the yard and around the corner of the inn.

"Kajsa!" the girl shouted and took off running after the dog. Olav, then, broke out of the freeze he had been in and took off running as well. He passed Ragnar, who joined the chase after him at a jog, laughing hard.

Olav rounded the corner just in time to see the cat, followed closely by the dog, charge nearly under the feet of two men, who from all appearances looked like they were trying to kill each other. Both had bloodied faces and one doubled over slightly to one side as though his ribs had been injured. Ahead of Olav, Sigrid stopped short at the sight of them. Olav slowed his pace slightly, but jogged past her in the direction of the two combatants.

In the distance, the cat scrambled up into the branches of a tree. The dog danced and leaped around the foot of the tree, barking furiously.

"Hey!" Olav called in a friendly tone to the men who had been fighting. "What's going on? Is everything all right?" He continued moving slowly toward them. Looking at their faces, he could see that this was more than just a bar brawl carried over to the outside. Something else was happening, and judging by the burns on the face and head of the one man, he had a strong feeling that it had something to do with the fire. "Maybe I can help, eh?"

Behind him, he could sense Ragnar stepping into place behind his shoulder. If the two strangers decided to stop pounding each other and try to pound him, at least Olav knew he would not be alone in the fight. For all his faults, Ragnar was worth twice his own weight in a brawl.

[ November 25, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaide ]

alaklondewen

11-26-2003, 08:17 AM

Lairwyn placed the leather reigns into Deol’s hands as she slid off the back of her tan mare. She stood still for one moment and collected her thoughts as the boy led the horses to the stables. Maedlyn would surely be nervous about this birth, and Lairwyn would have to work with precision, strength, and care. The breaking of the woman’s water concerned her slightly. If the child did not come soon, they might face the possibility of infection.

When she reached the house, the door was open and held by Bethberry who greeted Lairwyn enthusiastically. “Thank you, Bethberry. Deol and I rode as quickly as we could. I’m afraid I have to be the bearer of some disturbing news.”

“Please, come in, Lairwyn. Have a seat and tell us the news.” Maedlyn called from the small, sunlit kitchen. The woman had remained out of Lairwyn’s sight until this point, and the midwife looked deeply into Meadlyn’s eyes. The pregnant woman wore a strong face, but fear was behind her gaze. With a slight nod of understanding, Lairwyn lowered herself into the offered chair.

“Bethberry, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but the barn at the White Horse was ablaze this morning…I’m sorry.” Lairwyn reached across the table and gently touched the innkeepers arm.

Bethberry remained silent for a moment or two before she turned to Maedlyn and took the woman’s hand. “I must go and tend to the inn. Will you be alright?”

“Of course, I will…go. You have work to do.”

“Don’t worry…she’s in good hands,” Lairwyn said confidently.

With that, Bethberry nodded and strode from the room and the house. As soon as she was gone, Lairwyn turned again to Maedlyn. “How are you feeling? Do you feel any pressure?”

Maedlyn nodded. “They’re coming closer together now.”

“Good, the time is coming then. Here let me help you into the bedroom.” As Lairwyn offered her hand to Maedlyn, she glanced up and caught a glimpse of Maedlyn and Aldhelm’s daughter peeking around the door. She pretended not to notice her. “Is Lathyn about? I could use her help.”

“I’m here, Miss Lairwyn!” Lathyn spoke up slowly as she revealed herself.

“Oh good, I’m glad. Do you think you could help me today getting your mother ready for the new baby?” Wide-eyed, the girl nodded. “Good. First help me take her into the bedroom. Then, you need to put a pot of water on to boil, and I’ll need any extra sheets you can bring to me. Okay?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Lairwyn smiled warmly at the girl before turning her attention back to Maedlyn who was now on her feet and, with a little help, making her way to her bed for a long, hard, and joyous event.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 8:13 PM December 05, 2003: Message edited by: alaklondewen ]

dragoneyes

11-26-2003, 03:19 PM

"Hey! What's going on? Is everything all right?" A man's voice reached Aldors ears. Was he being addressed? Why wouldn't everything be all right? He'd only lost his bird and his horse, why wouldn't he be fine? The tortured form of his beloved steed's body flashed before his eyes and he clenched his fist again, he must help, what could he do? "Maybe I can help, eh?" Aldor's fist relaxed again. Why would he be the one that needed help? Surely the stable was still flaming. The flames flickering around his Byrn's body floated before his eyes and he stepped back from it, he couldn't do anything.

He sensed another being approaching his side and his head snapped towards the movement. The movement stopped. The blinding rage that had consumed him began to melt away and dissipate. He could see a man's form through a mist of tears, he looked to be tense and ready for any sudden move. Why? What would harm him here? Another image came to him, a fist connecting with a chest with a satisfying crack. The fist drew back and flew forward again towards a face, a face he knew.

"Findur." he mumbled and took another step backwards. What had he done? He couldn't have, could he? He forced eyes to look upon his friend. Findur was clutching at his ribs as he hobbled towards Aldor. Findur could see the rage had gone and was trying to help, but Aldor wouldn't let him. Aldor put his hand up to Findur. "No, stay away." He rasped.

Aldor stepped backwards once more, he wanted to be away from this place, he didn't deserve to be here, he didn't deserve to be surrounded by such caring and helpful folk. He could hear someone talking, but he couldn't comprehend it, he was locked firmly in his own world. He fell to his knees, unwanted scenes playing over and over before his eyes. He shut them tight but the visions remained. He raised his eyes upward to the sun struggling to show herself through the remaining smoke.

Someone was approaching him, he couldn't tell who but he knew he didn't want them to come near. He ripped his leather glove from his belt where it still faithfully hung and threw it wildly away from him, releasing the last of his anger with an animalistic cry of rage. Then the tears came and Aldor let them fall unashamedly. He buried his face in his hands despite the pain and let his grief fly freely.

[ 4:20 PM November 26, 2003: Message edited by: dragoneyes ]

Aylwen Dreamsong

11-26-2003, 05:11 PM

The process of putting the fire out had been successfully completed, just before noontime and much to Aylwen’s relief. Pails had been neatly stacked away by the Inn door, and fire-stampers began to exit what remained of the stable. While no fire remained alight, no wood had been left whole and the dirt was sprinkled with dark ashes of both wood and horseflesh. Aylwen began to thank Leofan and the other people who had help end the chaotic fire.

“I have skill as a carpenter and I would like to offer my services to help the Inn build a new barn,” someone’s voice sounded behind the Assistant Innkeeper, catching her off-guard. Turning around, Aylwen came face-to-face with a tall, frail-looking young man with golden hair and slightly mournful blue eyes. Aylwen smiled kindly and put a hand on his shoulder before replying.

“And do you happen to have a name?” Aylwen asked, looking into the man’s deep blue eyes. Upon closer examination Aylwen noticed that the young man was not as frail as he seemed. He was stronger than Aylwen first thought. The man couldn’t have been much older than she was, but Aylwen could not be sure and decided to settle with first impressions as the man answered her.

“Faran, miss,” the man replied, and Aylwen nodded.

“Faran, I want to thank you for your offer,” Aylwen began, choosing her words carefully. “And if it really is no inconvenience to you, I would appreciate all the help you decide to give. I’m sure everyone else here appreciates it too. You won’t be alone, and perhaps I can give you room here while you help. Does that sound good to you?”

Before Faran could answer, a little hand began tugging on the back of Aylwen’s skirt. Aylwen turned and looked down to see Madi and a little girl she hadn’t seen before looking up at her. Aylwen turned back to Faran and grinned sheepishly, excusing herself and assuring Faran that she would speak with him again soon. As Faran nodded and walked off, Aylwen turned back to Madi and the little girl.

“Hello, Madi. Who is your friend? Can I help you with something?” Aylwen asked, surprised that the little man would be coming to her for something. Probably just because Bethberry isn’t here right now, Aylwen told herself as Madi opened his mouth to speak.

“Map for Berry,” Madi grunted, handing Aylwen a slip of paper. Before Aylwen could say anything else, Madi and his friend began sneaking off towards the brush as if on some covert operation. Aylwen sighed and put the piece of paper in her apron pocket before going back to her original task. She continued inviting people into the Inn for lunch and thanking people for their generous help that day.

“M’Lady Aylwen,” Aylwen turned at the call, and smiled warmly as Castar stood near her. “I just wanted to tell you that I will stay and aid in the rebuilding of the barn…as long as it takes. Windheneb sent his cousin to tell my parents.”

“That is good,” Aylwen replied softly. “We can use all the help we can muster.”

“Windheneb will be helping too,” Castar added, but his voice faded as he excused himself politely. Aylwen remembered something as he left and went off to find him again. When she did find him he was speaking to Windheneb and another woman (apparently another friend of Windheneb’s).

“Castar, Windy,” Aylwen said, catching their attention. “Why don’t you come in for lunch while we see who we’ve got for help? You can take your friend too.”

Castar nodded, smiled at Aylwen, and led Windheneb and the woman to the door of the Inn. Aylwen moved on, and before long she was able to go into the Inn and get things ready for repairs. Aylwen decided that they would probably start the next day, depending on how much help they had.

Oh, won’t Bethberry be surprised when she gets home, Aylwen thought glumly.

Bêthberry

11-27-2003, 01:31 PM

Relief and Aftermath

Ruthven had been more than a little relieved to find her fears proven groundless: Madi's liveless body had not been found among the charred and fallen timbers. She had stomped through the last flickering embers and smouldering timbers with this new fellow Olav, who was a capble and reliable hand. Animals they had lost, yes, but there was no loss of human life. Ruthven had ultimately shrugged to herself and recognized with a silly, silent grin that she should have known Madi could play more tricks on her than she had assumed. What would become of him she did not know but at least he had not been lost to the flames.

After clapping the fellow Olav on the back for his final efforts at stomping out the last remaining embers, and stepping over charred timbers and around puddles, Ruthven had left the ruined stable and walked away from the commotion. It was a costly tragedy even without loss of human life. Several horses, all tack, saddles, reins, supplied, the stable itself were all lost. She was sure this would create hardships for Bethberry, since rebuilding would be costly. Yet there were eager hands about to rebuild. Edoras still had a community. Then Ruthven spied Aylwen having her hands full with those flirts, Windheneb and Castar. Heh, she thought to herself, Community might not be the motivation here.

Rounding the corner of the Inn, Ruthven came upon two bedraggled men who were being stared down by Olav and Ragnar. More trouble for The White Horse? she wondered. Bethberry would not be pleased to have it said that The Horse had become a place for common brawls. Yet all of these men had been instrumental in helping to put out the fire.

A quick survey of the scene convinced Ruthven that Olav and Ragnar were not ready to extend the fisticuffs. They looked cheerful and accommodating and for that she was thankful.

"Olav, again my thanks for your quick attention and that of your friend. The Inn itself was likely saved by your thoughtful efforts."

Olav turned to the old woman and smiled. "It was nothing. Just something which needed to be done."

"Are you looking for work in these parts?"

"Maybe."

"I heard the Assistant Innkeeper, the young woman Aylwen, say that she would be needing carpenters and builders. Would you and your friend be able to spare a hand and some time?"

"Likely," Olav replied. "Ragnor, what say we saunter over to the other young lass and see what her plans are?" In all this, Olav of course had Sigrid on his mind.

Ragnor grinned. "Sure," he said, knowing very well what was prompting Olav's desire to get him away from Sigrid. "Let's see what the three of us can offer Miss Aylwen."

As they moved off, Ruthven turned her attention to the other men. About them hung the air of tragic loss; she suspected they had lost horses in the fire.

"You've paid a harsh price for the fire?"

"Aye," answered Findur, slowly and painfully. "That we have. Aldor has lost his Byrn. I have my Braelin, though."

"It appears you two have nearly lost your heads as well. You are a sorry looking lot, you are, bloodied and beaten like wild men or Dunlanders."

Aldor looked up at her out of his misery; he could hear her better than he could see her. He went to open his mouth, but the burns about his face cracked and pulled and he winced with pain. Findur leaned over, favouring his side and breathing with difficulty.

"A horse is a valuable thing, and dear companion," whispered Findur with regret tinged with shame. "I could not save Byrn."

"So is a peaceable community. And your friend has lost a goodly amount of skin and hair as well. Come, it won't do to be found here in a cheap brawl. You're likely to be removed from Edoras for it and your aid with the fire ignored. I'll find you a place where you can recover with few questions asked."

Ruthven was hoping that Bethberry would return soon. That woman could set bones and mend burns without having to report them. It would do the men no good to be sent away without aid or healing; it might even lead to their death, although Ruthven knew from sombre experience that such a concern would matter little to some of the powers these days in Edoras.

[ 11:54 AM November 28, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Amanaduial the archer

11-28-2003, 04:08 PM

"Through Rohan over fen and field,
Where the long grass grows.
Land of those who breed fine steeds,
The best that Arda knows..."

The voice that sang the song paused occasionally as the owner made it up, but it nonetheless flowed, the melancholy tune in a minor key fitting the simple words that were fitted to it on the spur of the moment. Changing to whistling jauntily, as there didn't seem to be much point in continuing with the words - he could do words and he could do tunes, but a creator of words to songs straight of he was not - the rider turned the corner from the narrow street of high houses, simultaneously letting out a sigh of relief that once more light could fully reach him, and a gasp as he saw the plume of smoke reaching high into the clouds. Tipping his head back, his jaw-length sandy-blonde hair falling back out of the way of a smooth, sophisticated face, Hisimé stopped whistling, staring up at the flames, his animated dark blue eyes, so dark they were almost navy, wide in surprise, before he urged on Sentinel, digging in his heels gently and clicking in his throat. It looked like the fire must mostly be out, for there were no high flames greedily licking at the sky, but that was not to saw it was fully out, and a putrid stench hung in the streets of Edoras, and the folk there might need help. Coming at a careful, practised canter down the narrowd streets, Hisimé made his way as best he could down the unknown streets towards the smoke's origin, wondering what had caused the blaze.

Dismounting quickly as he reached it, the young man took in the startling scene - smoke still coming from the stable which had apparently been the centre of the blaze, people running to and fro, horses tied up willy nilly outside, stamping their feet nervously despite some folk's efforts to calm them. Catching onto their mood, Sentinal shifted uneasily, his nostrils flaring as the scent disturbed him, although he restrained his panic as a military horse is trained to, and now Hisimé took it in more carefully, he too recognised the stench: horseflesh and horsehair.

"I heard the Assistant Innkeeper, the young woman Aylwen, say that she would be needing carpenters and builders..."

A snatch of a conversation floated by and Hisimé relaxed slightly: if they were looking already for repairs to be made, the fire must indeed be out. A makeshift place to leave horses had apparently been rigged up a safe distance away, and uncertainly, the young man led Sentinel towards them. A capable looking young women came towards him, half frowning, and Hisimé held back slightly. She smiled in a business-like fashion. "I have experience with them, and say that in Rohan."

Understanding her meaning, Hisimé grinned sheepishly and reached into a pocket of his brown tunic, under which was a white shirt and over which was a dark riding cloak. As he offered her a few silver coins for her trouble, the woman ignored his hand. Puzzled, but pleased, the Gondorian left his thanks with her and went towards the Inn, his straight, disciplined way of holding himself speaking accurately of a soldier, taking the few steps as one and opening the door quickly before he stepped into the rather chaotic room where a young woman with an air of respected authority over the chaos was apparently preparing to make an announcement. The Innkeeper, maybe?

Writer of The Mark

11-28-2003, 05:02 PM

“Map for Berry,” Madi had grunted. Shortly after, they sneaked off and left the assistant Innkeeper, still looking for the old crooked lady named Ruthven. Linnea stopped for a while and gave thought to what Madi had just said.

"It wasn't a map, you know," she said.

They hid behind something which looked very much like a brush, only it wasn't. Linnea knew that much. Madi hadn't answered; he was just staring into the air, probably trying to spot Ruthven anywhere near. The little girl beside him went quiet as well, and was more concerned whether her father knew she wasn't in her room like she was supposed to be.

"I know that," Madi said. Linnea looked at him, examining the reaction in his face before drawing the conclusion that he was probably lying. She grinned, but said nothing. "I read the note," he said, turning his head towards the girl, who had been watching him for a while now. He told Linnea about the woman named Idona, and how she had expressed that she was willing to help construct a new possible stable. The drawing was of course only a draft.

"A new stable?" Linnea wondered.

"Yeah, we probably need a new one after this," Madi said and pointed towards the stable, which was now only ashes. The Stable had burnt to the ground.

Linnea nodded. She wondered if her horse was safe, but didn't dare express her concerns now. The only thing Madi and Linnea would have to worry about now, was to find Ruthven and that quickly! Soon, Linnea urged Madi to come forwards; they couldn't sit behind this brush all day. "Come on, we must take the risk," she repeated, taking Madi's arm, trying to drag him up. Madi did as told, even though it was a request from a seven years old determined girl.

She hushed at him, as they approaced the crowd, the commotion and the stable which was no more. Linnea gazed around, not only looking for Ruthven but also her father. After all, she had been very unlucky with this choice; 'picking' a father, her father...

The crowd had thinned out by the time Linnea got tired. Already she had pointed out a number of old ladies, which apparently hadn't been Ruthven. Every time Linnea had pointed at different women, Madi had answered silently: "Ruthven has greyer hair. Ruthven is slimmer. Ruthven is taller," and so on. This is hopeless, Linnea thought, shrugging as Madi asked her something about her father. "No, I haven't seen him either," she muttered.

"Now, let's go back into the Inn again through the backdoor," Linnea said with determination. "Ruthven is obviously not outside," she added, springing away. She stopped only to stare into one of the dark windows, eyeing Madi, springing after. He had caught up with her by the time they rounded the inn.

"Come on," Madi urged the young girl. She ran as fast as she could, looking down into the ground.

"Ouch!!"

Linnea stopped, but couldn't help to run into a woman who stood talking with two middle-aged men.

"Sorry," she stammered and tried to get away from the woman's grim face. "I am really sorry," she added, now staring into the ground.

"Ruthven!" Madi cried suddenly. Linnea didn't say anything, just looked up and examined the woman's face, it was indeed Ruthven, whom they had been looking for.

[ 10:36 AM December 02, 2003: Message edited by: Writer of The Mark ]

Daniel Telcontar

11-29-2003, 05:52 AM

Talan rose from his bed, and laid his hand upon his brow; it wasn't warm anymore. A bucket of fresh water stood upon the floor, and he drank some of it before splashing another part into his face. The water freshened him, and he felt it was time to leave the little room where he had been for several weeks, struggling against the fever.

He made his way through the inn, nodding and smiling to those few he met, who expressed their relief that he was now doing better. He searched for Bethberry until he remembered the last time she had seen him, she had said something about leaving; he shrugged and guessed he had to go find Aylwen instead.

When he finally found her, he muttered a greeting before speaking: "As you can see for yerself, I am doin' better now; ready to do me job again. I don't know much about timber and carpenter and that sort o' thing, but me guess is, an extra pair of hands are always needed for such work. So you don't be afraid to call me if them workers need me, I sure could use to do a bit of work after being in that room for so long a time."

Orual

11-29-2003, 11:37 PM

Tamurilo winced as a sharp rock cut into his foot, nearly causing him to stumble. His little daughter, Eruvalde, was asleep in his arms, her golden hair cascading down his back. Her fingers twitched from some impulse in the depth of her slumber, and her father smiled sadly.

Their home was in the south, southwest of Gondor. Tamurilo was a farmer by trade, tall and broad, with the dark skin of a southerner and a keen mind. He would ship his goods to Gondor, where he never had trouble making a living. He lived there with his wife, Losse, and their daughter, Eruvalde. Losse was a daughter of Rohan, which was where Eruvalde received her waves of blonde hair. Certainly not from Tamurilo, whose hair was straight and dark brown.

Eruvalde shifted in her sleep, and Tamurilo paused for a moment. She turned her head toward her father, her hot breath on his neck, then did not move again. Tamurilo sighed and started on his way again.

Being an ally of Gondor since his birth, Tamurilo was not popular among the men of the south, his kin. He tried to live his life normally, for his family's sake, despite this animosity, but it proved a mistake.

In the dark of the night, some more bitter cousins of his stole into his home and started to destroy the place. Losse had woken up and grabbed Eruvalde out of her room, then run into the main room, where she was met by the intruders. Tamurilo ran behind her, and she shoved Eruvalde into his arms. Her words rang in his head still:

Take her and run. I'll meet you in Rohan! I love you!

Dazed by all of the activity, he could hardly think twice about his wife's order, so he obeyed her. He took Eruvalde and ran. The last he saw of his house, it was going up in flames.

Eruvalde stirred again, and sat up. "Are we at Momma's house yet?" she asked, her voice hoarse with sleep. She rubbed her eyes, which were the same dark redwood colour as her father's, and tilted her head back onto Tamurilo's shoulder.

Her father shook his head. "We are not, little one," he said, stroking her hair, "but we'll be there soon, I warrant. Would you like to walk?" Eruvalde nodded, and he set her down on the ground. "Take hold of my hand, and don't let go, mind. I don't want to lose you, Ru."

Eruvalde gripped onto her father's hand tightly. "You won't lose me, Papa," she said. She rested her head against Tamurilo's big hand. "Don't worry."

Tamurilo squeezed her hand and led her on down the road.

He caught a whiff of charred wood, and quickened his pace. He felt a little guilty about it, but the sight of a burned building gladdened him. He had some skill as an architect, and more as a carpenter. Perhaps he could find some work here, and a place for Eruvalde and him to sleep.

Picking up his daughter again, he walked up to a young woman who seemed to be in charge of the situation. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said, nodding his head respectfully, "but I can't help but notice that you might need a few hands around here. I have a set myself that are fairly capable, and a little girl who needs a room for the night. Might you be able to give me some work?"

Bêthberry

11-30-2003, 11:03 AM

"Ruthven!" Madi cried suddenly.

Surprised, the old pedlar looked up.

"Madi Codex! And here I was worried you had been trapped in the fire. What mischief are you up to now, dragging a young girl around who ought to be in her room?"

"I dragged him out," spoke up Linnea proudly. "You had said you were looking for him and I was the one who found him."

"So it seems, my child. Yet you haven't found your clothes or shoes, have you?" replied Ruthven, her brusqueness not discounting her concern.

"Oh, hmm," was all the girl responded, becoming self-conscious about her bare feet and her nightdress, which was stained now with grass and some mud.

"Here," announced the old woman, as she took off her old brown woolen shawl and wrapped it around the girl. "This will help you look like a grand adventurer from Gondor, a cloak of mystery and intrigue it is."

Madi rolled his eyes and snorted. "That doesn't look like any clothes I saw in Minky Ting."

Ruthven shot Madi a look of reproof. "And I suppose we are all to be enthralled by your imagination, are we?"

Madi ran towards Ruthven, lowering his head and actually trying to head butt her. "Yes," he retorted, smugly, with a great deal of self-satisfaction, before she caught him and held him off.

"Madi, I've not such a soft heart as Bethberry has. Your stories won't work on me, not when you have to resort to lies to make them work, for I see through your lies faster than she does. "

"Lies! What lies have I told!" he responded indignantly.

Linnea spoke up at this point. "You did, you did. You called the drawing a map." She squirmed under the shawl, the wool tickling her but not in an uncomfortable way. "And I like my magic cloak. It will make me invisible."

"I hope it will, child, for I fear what your father will say or do if he catches you here instead of in your room. Off with you now. The excitement here is over."

"But I brought your boy to you."

"He's not my boy, Linnea. We don't know who he belongs to. Perhaps he can tell you that as the two of you return to The Horse. Now, go, so your father won't be worried and become angry." And with that, Ruthven playfully shoved Madi off towards the Inn and turned to the two men who had started to wander off.

She whispered confidentially to them. "There's a small shed built onto the back of the bakery, on the next street over. It is used for storing flours and sugars. And it is warm. It will be a good place for you to stay, at least until you can clean yourselves up so you don't look like ruffians and draw the wrong attention."

With that, the three of them, Ruthven, Aldor and Findur, began to walk away from the Inn.

Aylwen Dreamsong

11-30-2003, 05:33 PM

Writers of the Mark! A reminder:

It is currently the 3rd Age, about ten years prior to the War of the Ring in the White Horse. It is late morning, close to noon time, and the season is early summer. The Innkeeper, Bêthberry, is currently away from the White Horse. Aylwen the Assistant Innkeeper and many townsfolk and White Horse staff just put out a fire which has left the stable in ashes.

Ongoing Characters:

Inn Staff:
Bêthberry, the Innkeeper
Aywlen Dreamsong, the Assistant Innkeeper
Froma, the cook
Leofa, (Nurumaiel) stablehand, and his entire family
Talan (Daniel Telcontar), handyman and bouncer
Iona (Varda), scullery maid and serving girl

Visitors/Friends to the Inn:
Aldhelm, Deol, Maedlyn, Lathyn (The X Phial)
Aleia, Anwir,(Horse Maiden of the Shire)
Lairwyn, (alaklondewen)
Aldor, (dragoneyes)
Findur, (ElantariGreenleaf)
Ruthven (Bethberry)
Madi (Idgian & Others), little man from Minas Tirith (Minky Ting) staying at the Inn
Sigrid, Ragnar, and Olav (Ealasaide)
Linnea (small child), Idona (local resident) (Writer of the Mark)
Faran, Goldwine (Imladris)
Ælfritha, (Bêthberry) a horse mistres
Castar, Windheneb and his many lady friends (VanimaEdhel)
Hisimé, (Amanaduial the Archer)
Tamurilo, Eruvalde, (Orual)

Forth Eorlingas!

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:07 PM December 07, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Nurumaiel

11-30-2003, 05:52 PM

Frodides searches for Leofan

Frodides stood just outside the main crowd, clutching Mærcwen's hand tightly. The people were still rushing about, putting out the last of the flames and calming the frightened horses. Frodides stood on tiptoe and tried to find Leofan in the great mass of people that swarmed about, but she could not see him no matter how she tried. Mærcwen was crouching down and playing with some blades of grass and gazing up at Mihtig, who had pulled himself away from whoever had been watching him and found his way to the two. The little girl seemed completely lost as to what had just happened. "Mærcwen, please don't play with the dirt," Frodides murmured.

"I've not playing with the dirt, Mamma," the girl protested, turning her head upwards. "I'm playing with the grass." Frodides gave her a faint smile and gently picked her up, placing her on Mihtig's back. After instructing both horse and girl to be good and not to wander off, Frodides slipped into the crowd, doing her best to avoid the people who still ran back and forth with buckets of water, not quite sure if the fire had been put out or not. Despite her best efforts, however, she was shoved against a man who was watching the going-ons with great curiosity. She would have surely fallen if she had not had the crowds about her to support her.

"Oh, I do apologize!" the man said, turning to her, his eyes tragic. "Up 'till now I have been quite successful in dodging through this crowd, but I see I have made my first mistake." He gave a little bow and was turning to go when he saw her face. More sorrow welled up in his eyes. "You appear to be greatly troubled," he said.

"If I am to tell the truth, I am greatly troubled," Frodides replied. "My husband, the stablemaster... well, I cannot find him. And I am simply afraid. He was in the midst of everything, going into the stable to rescue the horses and other such things... I have some fears that he might have been killed."

The man folded his arms, dropped his head, and took a step back, trodding on someone's foot. An annoyed cry behind him made him jump, and turning, he gave another little bow and apologized. Turning back to Frodides he winked and said, "Impossible to think around here." His face become serious again. "Now, about your husband... I once had a brother who was lost in a fire, and I was the one who found him. Maybe I could do it again. But first-" he bent down and peered in between people, frustration building in his face "-we must find a way to get through this crowd without any of us getting hurt."

Frodides attempted to keep silent, but despite her best efforts she could not help correcting the stranger. "Either of us, sir," she said.

The man glanced quickly at her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. He put one hand behind his back and studied her carefully. "Why, I'm afraid I don't quite know what you mean. There aren't just two of us. We mustn't forget my faithful companion." He smiled at her confusion and unslung a fiddle from his back very gently. "Many a lonely hour I've passed with this friend here." Replacing it, he took her hand. "I've fought my way through tougher crowds," he said. "Follow me and we should be through to the stable soon enough."

"I cannot thank you enough for your kindness, sir," Frodides said, stooping over as he did. He smiled at her and said, "No need to thank me. For me, rescuing young ladies in distress has become as much of a trade as my fiddle playing. I shall be thanked enough when I see her smiling happily at the sight of her husband."

He began to move lightly forward and Frodides followed. She was amazed at his agility and his great talent for slipping through the tightest spaces, and she found that he had been correct in what he said. As long as she kept after him exactly, she found no trouble in dodging in between the people, and scarcely a minute had past before they were through the thick of the crowd and standing in front of what was left of the stable.

"There," the stranger said, brushing his clothes off. "Dear me, but some of those people were dirty. I shouldn't wonder, though, if they've been running back and forth and rescuing horses and whatever else they do in fires. I must admit, my dear, that crowd was much tougher than they looked. Now that we are through I think you will able to take in this news without terror striking your heart... I wasn't sure if we'd make it through."

Frodides bit her lip to keep from laughing, for the stranger's wide eyes showed he was quite serious. He frowned back at the crowd, then began scanning the stable before them, concern flickering in his eyes. "Now, my dear, I hope you find your husband, for I'm quite afraid to go back through that crowd."

"If he's here I'll find him," Frodides replied.

The stranger turned to go, but as the first time he turned back, sorrow greater than previously flooding his eyes. "Ah, I do hope you find your husband," he said. "I was mortally afraid for my brother. I sympathize so very much with you." He hesitated. "Er... would you like me to assist you in finding him? I told you before I would, but I don't recall your having answered."

"It would comfort me much if you were searching as well, sir."

"Yes, very good." He stepped forward and began peering under the charred boards the of the stable. "You mustn't thinking I'm looking for him down here, me dear," he said. "I have no doubts that he's alive. I'm just thinking of making a song about it. You and your husband will be in it, too." He dropped the board and began to walk in circles around the stable, looking right and left.

Frodides also began to search. "Sir, I would very much like to know your name."

"Name? Why does it matter? I shall disappear as soon as your husband is found." He glanced over at her. "However, my dear, if you insist, you may call me Liornung. I shall be truthful and tell you that isn't my real name, but it is what I call myself. Don't bother to ask why, for I intend to tell you without prompting. As you most likely know, it means 'learning' and I, my dear, am ever learning the songs, stories, and tunes I don't know."

"Are you a bard?"

"Oh dear, no." The man shook his head wildly. "I'm a rambling fiddler. Bards are so very learned and wise, and I am so very simple. Most bards are sons or daughters of bards, as well, or so I've heard. I'm the son of a stablemaster." He looked rather downcast. "I wish I was a bard... or, on the other hand, I don't. I am content to be a rambling fiddler." He nodded firmly. "Yes, that's what I am." He looked under another board, then crouched down and remained that way for awhile. "Thinking of verses," he murmured. At last with a great sigh he stood and straightened himself up. "No good, I'm afraid. It wouldn't work. Now, where could your-" His voice stopped abruptly as his eyes fastened on something. His face lit up and he scrambled around the stable, laughing heartily. "Ah, what good fortune comes my way," he said as he ran past Frodides. She turned to watch what he did.

Approaching one of the men who were holding the horses, he enfolded him in a great hug. The man started and stared for a few moments, then with a broad smile returned the hug. "My dear Sarig, is it really yourself?" Frodides jumped up from where she had been kneeling and followed the same path that Liornung had taken as she recognized the voice.

"Ah, my dear brother, this is not Sarig. Such a woeful name that is. I've called myself Liornung."

"Leofan?" Frodides said, her voice low and hesitant. When she saw it was indeed her husband, she smiled and embraced him warmly. Liornung stood in a bit of bewilderment, then laughed. "Oh, so this is your husband, eh? Ho, ho! That means you're my sister. Ha, ha, no wonder I felt so compelled to help you. How could I refuse to help my own brother's wife?"

"Besides that you have a naturally sympathetic nature," Leofan said. "You've always been helping people since you could shout sternly at the bullies and talk sweetly to those who had need of rescue." He turned to Frodides. "Where is Mærcwen?" he asked.

"No need to fear. She's with Mihtig."

Liornung beamed. "My brother has a daughter," he cried. "Shall she be as enchanted by the stories I tell as the other children I have met, I wonder? Ah yes, I must meet my little niece."

"You shall meet her, and many others, brother, as soon as this mess is cleaned up. How sorrowful I was feeling! My dear brother, how you have cheered my heart. What joy to see you again. Come now, let's clear this slight confusion and get some strong men to help us, and women too, if we can find any who are willing to encounter the dead bodies of horses." A shadow passed over his face. "Thank goodness nobody was hurt, even if we did lose many horses."

Seeing his brother's face, Liornung quickly attempted to cheer him. "And you shall tell me what you have been doing these years, and I shall tell you what I have been doing, though there is not much to tell. But first we must clean this up."

Aylwen Dreamsong

11-30-2003, 06:41 PM

Aylwen watched grimly as Sigrid entered the Inn, a few men following behind her. The Assistant Innkeeper did not say anything, but found seats amongst the crowd for the blond youth and her company. Looking on the crowd, Aylwen sighed and considered what she would tell the people gathered. It was chaos in the main room of the Inn, and the room was thick with anxiety and anticipation.

Before Aylwen addressed the people she let the last of the folk outside squeeze their way into the crowded room. The last person to walk into the Inn was a young, blond haired man with dark blue eyes who looked intrigued more than anything else. He did not seem anxious or impatient like some of the other patrons of the Inn. The traveler merely seemed curious, in a way.

“Hear now! Oy, listen up!” Aylwen hollered, getting everyone’s attention and standing up on a stool above the rest of the crowd. “First, I owe much gratitude to everyone who helped us put out the stable fire in one way or another. Every person counted, and I appreciated your kindness and generosity. I’m sure Bêthberry will be grateful as well. Not all the horses survived and our stable is completely destroyed, but many horses were rescued and no people were lost.

“Furthermore,” Aylwen continued, a grim smile on her face. “We can rebuild. None of you are obligated to stay and help build a new stable, but I’ve already had many offers from people lending their skills in carpentry, or just help in general. The staff of the White Horse Inn is very thankful to have people like yourselves to help us, because I don’t think we’d get very far building a stable without help. It is much needed and much appreciated. Arrangements can be made for those who wish to help but don’t live in Edoras. We will begin rebuilding the stables tomorrow morning, and we advise the owners of horses to take their beasts home for the night, but we will keep a watchful eye over the remaining horses for the night. Thank you.”

With that, Aylwen hopped off her stool and was greeted with several shouts of ‘Here, here,’ and grunts of agreement. Some left the Inn, promising to return the next day to help rebuild. Others remained in the Inn, seeking refreshment after a long morning. Lunch was served immediately, and rooms were taken care of as food was being served. Aylwen had just said good-bye to another customer when Talan came down from upstairs. He walked right over to Aylwen, and asked to speak with her.

"As you can see for yerself, I am doin' better now; ready to do me job again. I don't know much about timber and carpenter and that sort o' thing, but me guess is, an extra pair of hands are always needed for such work. So you don't be afraid to call me if them workers need me, I sure could use to do a bit of work after being in that room for so long a time."

“Your willingness to work is one of the honorable traits in you, Talan,” Aylwen replied, smiling. “I never want anyone to feel that they have to stay here and be our crutch to lean on, so to speak. But I am glad that you are here to help, Talan, and I am glad that you are feeling well again.”

Talan murmured a polite thank-you and farewell, and Aylwen watched as he went off to bring a load of dirty glasses into the kitchen. She was just about to walk away from the front door when it bumped open to reveal a middle-aged man and a little girl holding his hand. The man had swarthy-dark skin and matching hair, but the little girl was olive-skinned and had lovely blond hair. Aylwen looked questioningly upon them, and the man bowed his head in her presence before speaking.

“Excuse me, ma'am, but I can't help but notice that you might need a few hands around here. I have a set myself that are fairly capable, and a little girl who needs a room for the night. Might you be able to give me some work?” The man looked sad as he spoke, and Aylwen smiled kindly and led the man to an empty seat. When Aylwen offered the stool for the little girl, she shook her head politely and climbed up onto her father’s lap.

“My name is Aylwen, I’m the Assistant Innkeeper her. You are correct, sir, when you say that we need a few hands,” Aylwen murmured. “We’ve had several townsfolk offer their services, but more help is always appreciated. So long as you desire to help, I’ll keep a room available for you and your daughter. I’m not entirely sure what Bêthberry would say to this, but I’m sure I can help you get back on your feet, if that’s what you need.”

“Many thanks, ma’am,” the man murmured. “I am Tamurilo, and this is my daughter Eruvalde.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Aylwen replied, giving a warm smile to the little girl and ordering hot chocolate for her and cider for her father. “If you need anything else, just ask.”

Bêthberry

12-01-2003, 11:16 AM

With concern at being called away and unable to attend to Maedlyn, Bethberry had saddled Cailleach up and ridden swiftly back to Edoras. Lairwyn's news about the stable fire was disturbing, particularly after last year's theft from the stable. If I lose the Inn as well as the stable,, thought the Innkeeper, I will likely have to leave. I don't have enough money to rebuild both. Then, forcing herself to think more positively, she had made plans about how to proceed. By the time she entered Edoras, and passed through the gates after hearing the guards' reports of the blaze, she was prepared.

She rode up the back path to the Horse in order to avoid the gossiping attentions of the crowd, and left Cailleach tethered in the small leanto behind the Inn. Here, she hoped, there would be enough room to stable all the horses that had survived the fire. She looked over towards the garden, where the mounds of Madi's apple pips could still be seen amid the light green spring growth of vegetables. She looked up at the three stories of The Horse, each room having a small latticed window looking out onto the outskirts of the town. She looked to her right, at the blackened ruins of the stable. The air was thick still with smoke and stench. She knew immediately that there had been losses, hard, terrible losses, and her heart went heavy with regret and sadness.

Yet there was much work to do before she could allow herself the luxury of tears or grief. Spying a large dog sniffing through the ruins, and a strange cat wandering around the leanto, Bethberry put out some bones with meat and a dish of milk--as far apart as seemed necessary--and then entered through the kitchen, seeking out Aylwen, to confer with her before making a public appearance.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lunch had been cleared away by the time the Innkeeper strode into the main hall. She was thankful for Aywlen's quick thinking in providing a rich, substantial meal for all those who had helped put out the fire. Let it never be said that the White Horse was a stingy establishment!

Then, resolutely but with a brave face, she posted the following notice on the chalk board:

Wanted: Many Hands

To rebuild the stable:
Foresters and lumberers (to provide lumber)
Architects and artists (to design plans)
Carpenters
Roofers

To serve in The Horse:
Cook (Froma is leaving)
Scullery maids (two likely)
Wait Staff
Maids and launderers

To work in Edoras:
bowyer
bricklayer and stoneworkers
apothecarist
candlemaker

Please apply to the Innkeeper, Bethberry, stating experience. Wages: Room and Board, with additional sums as befits level of work and skill.

~ ~ ~

Bethberry stepped back and observed the notice. It would do, she decided. Froma came up behind her.

"I won't leave 'til you've found a replacement," he told her. "I've saved enough to leave off working, and as my gout is bad, I'll take my health."

Bethberry nodded at him. "Many told Aywlen they wish to help rebuild the stable. I'm expecting them to come forward here and present themselves to me, so I know what's about. I will be seeing to getting a large wagon this afternoon, so we can haul in lumber from outside Edoras. We'll need straw for tonight in the leanto at back. Can you arrange that?"

Froma nodded. He hesitated a moment, and then spoke up again, more quietly this time. "Ruthven will be wanting to see you. She's needing someone with your skills, at the bakery."

Bethberry caught the look in his eyes and nodded her understanding. First she would see if any were about who wised to speak with her about the positions.

[ 2:47 PM December 01, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Writer of The Mark

12-01-2003, 01:51 PM

Linnea grinned at Madi before they left Ruthven and the two men, who in Linnea's eyes seemed to be in major trouble - more trouble than herself perhaps. Madi looked hopelessly at the girl and muttered:" I don’t lie," he said, protecting himself. Linnea grinned again, but then something made her wipe her little smile off her face. Her father was standing right by the entrance of the Inn, having his hands firmly placed on his hips.

Linnea made a jump, still watching him. Her father was looking around with eyes which could pierce through any crowd. "U-oh," Linnea said silently and uncomfortably. Her heavy breathing got Madi's attention, who understood that this was the girl's father. He started looking desperately in another direction, and luckily both Linnea and Madi could still glimpse Ruthven, only some fifty paces away.

"Come!" Madi bent down and whispered in Linnea's ears. Linnea gave a last look towards her father, who apparently had started looking for someone, someone who was currently 'lost'....

******

"Ruthven, hide us!" Madi demanded, looking nervously over his shoulder.

The old woman turned around and stared oddly at the children, who had followed her, even though she had nicely requested them to go back inside.

"But, Madi," Ruthven started, but was interrupted by the boy, who eagerly continued: "Her father," he exclaimed. Linnea stopped the boy from saying anything more stupid, with a warning look.

Ruthven waited a moment, and sighed before she excused herself, and told the two men to wait for a few moments. She turned her full attention to the children and stared at them strictly. "Unlike you," she said, taking her eyes off Linnea and glancing over at Madi instead. "Children have fathers who care about them and worry when they can't find them," she said with a certain pity in her voice.

Madi too sighed, before Linnea burst out: "But I don't like my father," she said innocently. "Mam" she added. A fierce look appeared in Madi's eyes before he warned the young lady that she was out of character now. Surely, everyone loved their parents, just a bit at least. "Be thankful," he said. Linnea grew red and blushed. "I like my uncle though," she said, feeling a bit better about herself after the strict, but true words from Madi. However, Madi had no idea, what it was like; having a father who was constantly angry.

They heard Aldor and Findur starting a serious discussion, and Ruthven turned to them and muttered:" Children are listening."

The two men nodded, and waited for Ruthven to turn to them and leave the children. "Now, Madi take this girl to her room. Her father is...."

"Linnea!"

Without further notice, a man, who had come out of 'nowhere', grabbed the girl's arm and made her walk. "Whose coat is this?" he asked, taking it roughly off and casting it to the ground. Ruthven bent down and held it up. "This coat is mine," Ruthven said. "I gave it to Linnea, when she was looking for your horses," she added with sympathy in her voice. Madi went over to Ruthven, trying to be invisible from the father's rage.

The words from Ruthven didn't matter obviously, because the father was just about to have another outbreak: "I have had enough of this. All of this! First you take my daughter to watch the fire, which you afterwards cover up with a hopeless and intolerant excuse, and now I catch you and this... this... boy, accompanied by two ruffians, who I saw fighting earlier today!"

Linnea tried to resist her father's firm grip of her arm, but she couldn't help being almost dragged toward the Inn again. Madi and Ruthven watched the girl, having no power at all, over what was happening. Linnea managed to get loose for a moment, and used that moment to wave at Madi and Ruthven. Shortly after, Linnea disappeared around the corner with her father, who was filled with anger.

******

Linnea's horse wasn't found. But her father was indeed tired of this girl and what he believed, was inappropriate behaviour. He decided to leave the Inn immediately after this event, even though this meant leaving without one of the horses.

[ 4:25 PM December 03, 2003: Message edited by: Writer of The Mark ]

Ealasaide

12-01-2003, 04:42 PM

Having finally caught and retrieved her dog from the inn's back yard, Sigrid was relieved to follow Aylwen into the White Horse common room, where the assistant innkeeper addressed all the assembled guests and townspeople. Having left Kajsa outside under a sit-stay command, which she hoped would keep the dog out of trouble, she found a seat on a bench, where she was joined by her new acquaintances, the cousins, Olav and Ragnar. She was still feeling a bit breathless from the fire and all the running about. Also, she couldn't quite shake the haunted feeling she had that came from remembering the long ago fire that had killed two of her cousins. Altogether, it left her feeling a bit light-headed. She put her head down on her arms on the table, listening quietly as Aylwen spoke, thanking all who had helped extinguish the fire in the stable.

After Aylwen finished speaking, a bounteous luncheon was served, which Sigrid tucked into gratefully. She not eaten much in the last several days as she had been trying to stretch what little money and food she carried with her. She felt a little guilty, eating for free, when all she had done was what any citizen with a half of a conscience should do under the circumstances. She only wished she could have done more. To her right along the bench, however, Olav and Ragnar did not seem to be suffering any pangs of conscience. Taking what was offered to them with wide good-natured smiles, they dug into the food with relish. Watching them, Sigrid smiled gently to herself.

Once she finished eating, Sigrid looked idly around the room at the other diners. It was a varied bunch. If the Innkeeper needed people to help rebuild the barn, she had a feeling that plenty of volunteers would be available. Suddenly remembering her other new friend of the morning, Sigrid looked around for Faran. Finding him on another bench nearby, she smiled and nodded encouragingly.

"Carpenters!" she mouthed the word to him as soon as she caught his eye. When he grinned and nodded in return, she pointed toward the assistant innkeeper. "Talk to her!"

Faran nodded again and turned his attention back to his plate.

Olav and Ragnar, in the meantime, had risen to their feet and gone over to a far corner of the room where they could speak together privately. While she could hear nothing they said to one another, Sigrid could tell by their body language that some kind of argument was taking place. Each of them looked as equally peeved and impatient as the other. She couldn't help but wonder what the discussion was about, but, since they had gone to the trouble to move out of her earshot, she would have to let it go. She watched as another woman came into the common room by way of the kitchen and posted a notice on the chalkboard. Her eyes widened slightly with hope.

Jobs!

Eagerly, Sigrid waited as the new woman - the innkeeper, perhaps? - finished posting the notice, then spoke quietly for a moment with an older man who had also come in by way of the kitchen. When they were finished, Sigrid tiptoed nervously over.

"Excuse me, ma'am," she said softly to the woman who had posted the notice. "I'd very much like to apply."

The Innkeeper turned to her and gave her a friendly, though appraising look. After a moment, she smiled warmly at Sigrid, which gave the girl additional courage.

"I'm Bethberry, the innkeeper of the White Horse," the woman said pleasantly. "I don't believe I've seen you here before."

"Oh, no, ma'am," Sigrid flushed and bobbed a nervous curtsy. "I've only arrived this morning. Just in time for the fire, I'm afraid." She paused in a fluster, then remembering herself, continued. "My name's Sigrid, Ivar's daughter. My father runs a sheep farm in the highlands. I-I was hoping for work."

"What do you do?" asked Bethberry kindly.

Sigrid shrugged. "Most anything, I suppose. I can do all manner of cleaning and chores. I'll work hard for whatever you'd be willing to pay me - laundry, wait tables, scrub floors. I don't have any experience other than what I used to do at home taking care of my little brothers and sisters, but I don't mind a bit of hard work." She smiled hopefully. "I'm even willing to learn a bit of carpentry, if it's called for."

[ 9:29 PM December 01, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaide ]

Imladris

12-01-2003, 09:26 PM

Faran

Faran chewed his meat vigorously, silencing the growls that occasionally erupted from his stomach. The food was delicious and, taking a goblet of ale in his hand, he did a silent toast to the cook of the White Horse. Looking around, he caught sight of Sigrid and flashed a smile to her. She told him to ask about carpentry and such and he nodded. “But foods comes first,” he muttered.

Looking at Sigrid, he remembered the man with her -- Olav he thought his name was. He glowered at Olav and his friend as he ate. Olav had offered to teach her carpentry when he had volunteered to do it first. It irked him really -- it was almost like thievery if you came right down to it. He shrugged. It wasn’t as if the girl was his sister. If he had a sister (which he didn’t) and if he had offered to teach her something and another man had volunteered to teach the same thing, then he would have a right to be annoyed. Anyway, the man himself was somewhat untrustworthy, Faran decided. Just something about him and his friend didn‘t feel right, like the way the two of them were arguing just now and how they had both come after Sigrid. It was as if they were vying with each other to see who would receive her as the final prize.

A purring bag of gold rubbed softly against his leg and Faran absently gave Goldwine a piece of meat. Seeing Sigrid rise and go to a notice of jobs, Faran hastily gobbled down a warm biscuit and followed her, wiping his mouth upon his sleeve. Goldwine hastened after him, at last climbing to his accustomed perch upon Faran’s shoulders.

“I'm even willing to learn a bit of carpentry, if it's called for," Sigrid was saying brightly to a woman.

“And I’d be more than willing to teach her,” Faran said with a warm smile as he glanced casually over the list of jobs. Architects and artists (to design plans) A dreamy smile softened his face as he hastily designed the perfect stable in his head: roomy stalls for the horses, a good plentiful manger treated so it wouldn’t splinter easily, a metal water pail. The gates to the stalls would be studded with iron so that angry stallions would not splinter with their hooves of fury. There would be a huge loft that could hold plenty of hay that would be pushed down to the waiting mangers. He sighed. It would be much too expensive and too much man labour probably to build such a beauty. Turning back to the woman, he said, “I was trained as a carpenter. I can also wield an axe fairly well…” he shrugged as he waited for her to answer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Goldwine, Prince of the Golden Fur

I grinned as I watched the men dual below. I wondered what their brannigan was that had caused such a show of fists. I shrugged. Peonic humans and their peeves. Curling my tail about my paws, I contemplated again the dignity that accompanied a feline contest, whether it be over a morsel of the finest sinuous brawn or over the passionate adulation of a member of the female persuasion.

A stream of the two legged folk flowed into the Inn proper (or so I assumed the building was) and I followed in their wake: a golden prince padding with noble mien amongst the lay people of the greensward. Turning, I eyed the smoldering rubble of what had once been the stable. There it lay in its smoking ruin: the cremated ashes fluttered listlessly around me, the wood, crumbling, the grain still faintly lit with the iridescent glow of the asphyxiated fire. I sighed: all things must meet their doom, even they who do not live nor breathe the free air of our Middle-earth.

I realized that I was left quite alone, but quickly amended that by bounding lightly into the building. It was a swarming muddle there, and I gazed anxiously for Faran. I spotted him, a dark glower upon his face. Hastening to him to comfort, I rubbed myself against his steely leg, purring softly. He, naturally, interrupted this as a plea for food -- which I suppose it was also, in a round about subconscious way.

I sniffed it eagerly, and bit it with slow relish. The herb flavored serum that filled my mouth and gushed over my tongue and flowed around my fangs. My golden pools of ochroid eyes narrowed to mere slits. This, indeed, would be a morsel worth fighting over. Fortunately, there were no other claimants to my prize. I sniffed hungrily for more, but Faran decided to put me on ignore. He was a good learner, but he learned a wee bit too much sometimes from me, I thought with chagrin.

There he was rising from his plank of wood and crossing to the room. Leaping to my accustomed spot upon his bony shoulders, I latched my claws gently onto his woven shirt. Glancing down, I saw that a white spot was appearing: a sign of worn upon my linen voided cushion. A sigh escaped me: such was the life of a prince willingly degrading himself out of love and duty to a ragged boy who had the altitudinous honor to have rescued me from an early -- but that is another story.

I saw that he neared the lass whom he had spoken with prior to my affair with the canine. Dropping to the floor, I entwined myself around both their legs: first Faran‘s, then the girl‘s. It pleased me that he liked her, for I fancied her as well: she had very comfortable shoulders.

“I can also wield an axe fairly well…” he was saying as his voice trailed off. But I saw him flex his iron muscles. He was too modest to say that he was strong -- a lay person’s characteristic. I shrugged. Faran, nearly perfect as he was, had his faults.

[ 10:27 PM December 01, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

Orual

12-01-2003, 11:03 PM

Eruvalde's feet kicked close to Tamurilo's shins as she drank her hot chocolate, sipping it carefully so as not to burn her tongue. Tamurilo sipped at his cider, which warmed his body and his heart. They could at least move on from the attack here, wait for Losse here. If she came at all.

Tamurilo felt a pang as he thought of his beautiful wife, her white-blonde hair for which she was named and her sky blue eyes, her laugh like bells and her smile like spring after winter. He missed her terribly, but what could he have done? He had to take Eruvalde away from the attackers, and Losse would not have moved. He did what he had to. He did the only thing he could have done.

"Oops." Tamurilo looked down and saw Eruvalde looking up sheepishly, a little puddle of hot chocolate on the table. He took his handkerchief and wiped it up, ruffling her hair with his free hand.

"Be careful with that, Ru, it's still hot," he admonished, and Eruvalde nodded, pushing her hair away from her face. Tamurilo twirled a lock of it around his finger, and finished his cider. When Eruvalde was done with her hot chocolate, he patted her shoulders and took her off his lap. "All right, love, you go look around while I see what's to be done." Eruvalde grinned and took off, and Tamurilo took a deep breath. He'd have to start a new life, and it would begin here. He'd better get started.

Amanaduial the archer

12-02-2003, 02:13 PM

Scanning the crowded room quickly, Hisimé saw nowhere he could sit, and the woman he had guessed to be the Innkeeper was now readying herself to speak anyway - it would be impolite to start moving around when she was making an announcement, and impolite the soldier certainly was not. So, leaning against the wall, a look of mild interest on his features, he crossed his arms and waited.

"Hear now! Oi, listen up!" The young woman's shout as she got onto a stool to address the whole room eventually caused the chatter around the room to stop, although a few murmuring voices continued stubbornly. Hisimé glared at the back of a particularly rowdy man's head - from the way he was speaking as if his ears were plugged with cotton wool and his mouth was half full of honey, the Gondorian guessed he had had a drink too many. A fight he was not afraid of, but neither was he searching for one, and it was probably best that the man's companions, embarrassed, managed to shush him before Hisimé did it for them.

Looking back up to the woman, he listened to her announcement with even more interest and, as she finished, the chatter began once more, much louder in volume, and food began to get served from in the kitchen, the tantalising whiffs catching Hisimé's nose and stomach. Certainly if the food tasted half as good as it smelt...

The woman who had made the announcement was now talking to a crowd gathered around her, and before Hisimé got close enough to talk to her, she disappeared into the kitchen. The man sighed, but shrugged - no matter, it was doubtful he would miss anything until after lunch, and she would still be here. So, ordering himself a meal, he found himself a seat by the wall, he looked in on the room, content after his journey to eat and do a spot of 'poppling'.

~*~

The meal proved to taste every bit as good as the smell had promised, and, with his plates cleared away, Hisimé stood once more as he saw the woman who had made the announcement - he needed to find out her name! - come back out. Starting towards her, the Gondorian caught her eye halfway across the room and smiled politely, inclining his head, and as he reached her he touched his forehead couteously.

"Good day to you, ma'am," he started, then faltered slightly, realising that after the Inn's recent disaster, these may not have been the best words to use. Apparently sensing his slight stop, the woman grinned, shaking her head to clear any embarrassment.

"Good day. I am Aylwen, the assistant Innkeeper. May I help you?"

Ah ha! I have a name for her now! "My name is Hisimé, I am a soldier from Gondor, but I believe I can help you - I have the some experience in carpentry, and I gather that would not go amiss around here, as well as some experience with horses, if it would be useful. And as to how you can help me - I don't suppose there is a room free?"

Nurumaiel

12-02-2003, 05:15 PM

Leofan and family

As the majority of the people left the burned-down stable for lunch, Frodides followed them while Leofan and Liornung stayed behind. Leofan had refused to go have lunch, saying he needed to tend to the horses still and make sure none of them were hurt, and Liornung had decided to stay with him. As the crowd thinned, Mærcwen was visible sitting on Mihtig's back, stroking his neck and watching the goings-on with wide eyes. "That's a lovely girl," said Liornung, gesturing towards Mærcwen. "I wonder who she is? I don't see her parents anywhere."

Leofan smiled. "Look at me and you'll see her father," he said, and Liornung gaped, saying, "Why, goodness me, I wouldn't expect a child of yours to be so handsome! She must have got it from her mother, for your as ugly as a man can get. Now as for me... I was always the most handsome in the family. Pity all my wanderings have changed that."

Leofan glanced towards Mærcwen again, and saw that she atop Mihtig was coming towards them, led by Frodides, who was holding a plate of food. Mærcwen was carefully balancing two more plates. Liornung sat up straight, closing his eyes. "I think the women have brought us lunch," he said. "And I cannot tell you how hungry I am." He looked ruefully at his brother with a little sigh. "That is the bad thing about being a rambling fiddler. If people don't like your music you don't get a meal."

"Well, why don't you stay here for awhile?" Leofan asked. "The food here is excellent, and I'm sure Aylwen will be more than happy to give you a room."

"Is Aylwen the Innkeeper?" Liornung did not wait for an answer to his question. "She shan't give me a room, I'll pay for one. The people here in Edoras seem very appreciative of my music, you see. I have money in great store, and I shan't let her give me one." Taking his plate from Frodides outstretched hand with a delighted smile, he added, "I don't know how long I shall stay, though. Sooner or later the road will call and I'll be off."

Leofan stood and helped M³rcwen dismount Mihtig and set her down in front of Liornung. "Here, Mærcwen, this is your uncle." Mærcwen studied her newly-found uncle critically, and then gave a small curtsy with a little murmur of greeting.

"You needn't be polite to me," Liornung said. "After all, I'm your uncle." Then, smiling slyly, he took his fiddle in his hands and held it out so Mærcwen could see. Her eyes widened a little and she looked up at her mother. "Would you like me to a play a song?" M³rcwen did not answer, but Leofan assured his brother that she would, for he knew very well how much his daughter enjoyed music and song.

"So she wants me to play a song, eh?" Liornung pondered the demand for a few moments. "Much more difficult to play a song than a tune. Tunes are so easily changed. I could start one and end with another, but a song it is so difficult to choose... You see, M³rcwen, when one could play all the tunes they knew without a notable change if they only knew how to let one tune flow into the other. But a song, now! Hmm.... Well, what about something lively for a change? Everything is so dismal around here, and the people need cheering up. I hope however," he added in a low murmur to Leofan, "that I don't attract too much attention."

"Do you know any hobbit songs?" Mærcwen asked.

"Hobbit songs?" Liornung gasped. "Well, I know many tales about the Little Folk, but as for songs... dear me, lassie, do Hobbits even exist?"

"Yes."

"Oh ho, so certain, are you? Well, I thought the same when I was a child, and I still do. All the tales I can tell about them seem to ring with truth. I've never seen one, mind you, but I hear tell they're very good at hiding from us Big Folk." He played around with his fiddle for a little while, eyebrows drawn together in deep thought. "I don't know any real songs of the Little Folk, I'm afraid. Not any pure songs. But I know a song that is said to be a song of the Little Folk, regardless of whether it really is or not. Would you like me to play it?"

"Yes."

So Liornung struck up the tune, and to Mærcwen's delight she realized it was the very same song she had sung with the other children not too long ago. Without the least bit of hesitation or shyness she began to sing, and with a little light stealing to Liornung's face he began to play harder, for if truth must be told none of his audiences had ever sung his tunes before. And Mærcwen saw the challenge being presented to her. No pause hindered her song. She sang louder and harder as he played.

Aylwen Dreamsong

12-02-2003, 07:46 PM

The day had seemed so long, and it was only early afternoon. The sunlight was streaming through the windows in soft rays of gold. Aylwen was quite relieved when Bethberry returned from her trip, and when the Innkeeper posted her list and call for workers Aylwen watched as most of the people willing to help shifted their attention from Aylwen to Bethberry.

On a trip walking back and forth from the kitchen to the main hall one man beckoned Aylwen with his navy blue eyes, and when she had crossed the crowded room to help him he greeted her politely with a tap to his forehead.

“Good day. I am Aylwen, the assistant innkeeper. May I help you?”

"My name is Hisimé, I am a soldier from Gondor, but I believe I can help you - I have the some experience in carpentry, and I gather that would not go amiss around here, as well as some experience with horses, if it would be useful. And as to how you can help me - I don't suppose there is a room free?"

Aylwen looked over Hisimé, recalling him from earlier before she had given her speech. Someone from home, Aylwen thought at first. Then she considered what he was telling her and she looked over to where Bethberry was busy speaking to others offering their services. Then she turned back to Hisimé to answer his request.

“I’ll have to make certain that Bethberry is fine with it, since there seems to be a lot of people asking for a roof in exchange for helping to rebuild one,” Aylwen admitted. “Certainly someone with your skills in carpentry would be quite useful in rebuilding the stable. And we could use some help taking care of the remaining horses overnight until the stable is rebuilt. In any case, I see no problem with you staying here in exchange for your help and hard work.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hisimé murmured, giving a short bow. Aylwen grinned and made a quick curtsy in return. The man walked off to go find an empty seat again, but Aylwen wanted to ask him something before she lost him to the crowd.

“Hisimé, sir?” Aylwen called, and Hisimé turned and walked back toward her at the sound of his name.

“Yes, miss Aylwen?”

“I don’t mean to pry, but I’m curious: What is a Gondorian soldier doing here in Rohan, asking for a place to stay?” Aylwen asked, hoping Hisimé would not be upset with the question.

Daniel Telcontar

12-03-2003, 10:10 AM

Talan entered the hall and saw Faran eating. Himself he was not hungry, and he had indeed been searching for Faran, hoping to find him where the food was. Talan nodded a greeting to the craftsman as the latter raised his head and looked at him, before Talan sat down next to him.

"I s'pose you'll have yer hands full with buildin' up the stables again, aye?" The lad asked and looked at Faran who didn't stop eating but merely made a confirming sound.

"Well, I've been thinking. I think it is good for everyone to know some sort of skill, ye see, and I ain't know such a thing. Now, my hands are smarter than me head, if you get me meaning. I want to learn how to make something useful with them, besides movin' around with things, or people for that matter."

Still Faran did not reply, merely continued eating as he waited until Talan got to the point. A bit nervous because of Faran's silence, Talan spoke again:
"And then I thought: people are always gonna need houses. And chairs, and tables, and that sort o' thing; And I like wood, I like it alot. So what I have been thinking, is that I wanna be a carpenter perhaps. With the building of the stables and all, I was wonderin' if perhaps you can help me with learning that." Talan finally finished, and looked anxiously at Faran.

Bêthberry

12-03-2003, 01:09 PM

As the crowd mulled around the notice, Bethberry moved away, wanting to give each applicant some privacy of thought and perhaps whispered confidences. She walked the Mead Hall and crinkled her nose at the tincture of ash and smoke in the air. We need to air out the Inn, she said to herself, deciding then to open each large shuttered window, except for those which gave out onto the ruined stable, creating a small breeze which blew fresh air into the Hall. She then conferred with the serving maids, asking them to bring in large bouguets of blooms from the garden and set them around the tables and at the windows. The hyacinth, beebalm and phlox, combined with heliotrope and sweet peas would, she hoped, chase away the lingering odour of fire. Then she returned to the front where several had gathered, waiting, it appeared, to apply for the jobs.

The Innkeeper smiled at the eager, fresh-faced young woman who was the first to speak up. It was Sigrid, Ivar's daughter. "If you are from a sheep farm, you likely know how to card and spin wool. There might be work for you with the weaver, if you have an interest."

"Please, ma'am, for now I would prefer to work here, to get to know people and Edoras."

Bethberry nodded. Aylwen had given her a rundown of who had helped with the fire and this girl had eagerly played her part.

"Have you ever seen an Inn before?"

Sigrid shook her head, no.

"Well, then, let's find work for you which will make you acquainted with how an Inn works. For room and board, and five coins a week, I'll ask you to scrub the floors, clean the walls and windows--general cleaning--and help with the laundry. If you can keep your eyes and wits about you and learn how to take orders, perhaps soon you can wait on tables. Agreed?"

Sigrid could not believe her luck. A job. A real job. "And Kajsa, my dog?"

"Is he any good as watchdog? It would appear we need to improve our security around here."

"I could train him to recognize all who belong and watch out for strangers."

"Then I'll hire him as well," said the Innkeeper with a smile. Aylwen will help you find your room and give you a tour of the Inn. I'll see you later tonight or tomorrow."

Sigrid skipped away with a grin, winking at Faran and looking at Olav and Ragnor arguing in the corner. She had found a place.

Bethberry noticed that the skipping was in time to the music which wafted gently throughout the Inn. She smiled. Leofan's family continued to grow, but a musician would be a welcome addition to the Inn. Entertainment would attract more customers, and more customers would help pay for the new stable.

She turned then to Faran, a quiet, serene young man. "Your head seems full of ideas if I read the eagerness in your eyes right, young man."

"Aye, I've a few ideas about how to plan the stable. I've built three so far, and know how to build a strong thatched roof." He spoke rapidly, urgently, his words brimming with suggestions and ideas and enthusiasm.

"Oh!" spoke up Aylwen. "I forgot. Madi gave me this map to give to you. From the artist Idona." With those words, she handed the slip of paper to Bethberry, who unfurled it. She looked up at the man.

"Your name?"

"Faran."

"Well, Faran, I'll say you're hired to design the stable, but I want you to work with Idona. The girl has a good head for space and she knows the Horse and our clientele. She can give you practical advice on what we need, and she will share your love of drawing. Room and board, plus ten coin a week. And you're to help with the building, too."

Faran beamed. Aylwen mentally began planning how many rooms would not be bringing in any money. There were back rooms which had not been used in some time. Perhaps she could prepare them for all these new hands, and the Inn would not lose any paying rooms. She made a note to remind Bethberry of this need later.

Finally, Bethberry turned to the man with dark, shadowed eyes and a brow creased with frowns. He had been attentive, kindly attentive, to his daughter and so unlike that other father Aywlen had mentioned, the one who had stormed out, dragging his little girl with him like a piece oi chattel or a slave. She raised her eyebrow at this father. they were a strange pair, the father dark as the southerners were; the daughter fair as any child of Rohan.

"I can work. I've strong arms and a steady eye. I know farming and how to trade. And I need to feed my daughter."

"You've the look of a refugee about you," the Innkeeper observed. "And your name is?"

"Tamurilo, Innkeeper," he replied, and explained his presence in Edoras to her. His frown seemed to have travelled over to the Innkeeper, for Bethberry's face grew dark.

"We'll need all the hands we can find. There's work for you here. Perhaps you can confer with Leofan on how much timber we need, and with him supervise the buying of lumber and thatch and nails. If you talk with the wife of the stable master, Frodides is her name, you will find a good women to watch over your daughter while you work."

By the time Bethberry had finished talking with everyone, she was ready for an ale herself to dry her throat. She noticed the two men still arguing in the corner. She looked around, and raised her voice.

"We still have need of strong arms who will journey to the forests to fell timber for us. I'll borrow the smith's wagon, but this will be an opportunity for stout young men to prove their strength. It will be a job for brawn and brain and I'm sure many a lass will be impressed with those who assume it." She walked over to the front desk, looking at the papers there. She hoped soon to be able to leave to seek out Ruthven.

[ 5:16 PM December 03, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Amanaduial the archer

12-03-2003, 01:15 PM

She seemed pleased at his courteousy, dropping a quick curtsy in reply to his equally short bow. With a slight smile, Hisimé began to move through to crowd to find a seat to watch from again and sit, before hearing her call and turning back. "Yes, miss Aylwen?"

"I don’t mean to pry, but I’m curious: What is a Gondorian soldier doing here in Rohan, asking for a place to stay?" She watched him carefully, perhaps worried it might be an offensive situation, but the soldier shrugged lightly. His eyes flicking back quickly to where his seat had been and winced as he saw it swiped by a pair of avidly talking young men, unwrapping an armful of scrolls on the table and tipping a pocketful of charcoal pencils on after it. Scanning the more immediate area, the soldier settled his navy gaze on a seat at the bar, only about a metre from where he stood, about an equal distance between both him and the assistant Innkeeper, and moved towards her and it casually, not wanting to lose a second seat.

"I have some leave, a fair bit" he shrugged the comment off. "And....well, I have only once been to Edoras in more than passing. And now..."

He stopped, unsure of how to go on. The young man had made captain the year before, now in his late twenties, and he had friends further on as well - he had heard the whispers. Uneasy murmurings and unspoken words visits from strange, cloaked figures riding their steeds so hard the steam and foam poured from them...because I wasn't sure how much longer I would easily be able to see it.

"...well, now I have some time, and the Mark seemed as fair a place as any to visit in my time," he continued after a slight pause. "I have always been fond of horses, and Minas Tirith is not a city for steeds so much. I have no family tying me down either further than a sister younger by a few years, and..." he became aware he may seem to be flirting if he continued down the path his sister had indeed urged him to come and stopped with another shrug, hoping his skin wasn't reddening. Looking back at Aylwen, he returned the question, to an extent. "I guess that you are not from around here either, miss - your looks speak of Gondor also. May I ask how you came to be able to command such a rowdy lot from your throne of a bar stool?" he grinned, referring to when she had made her announcement in such a striking way.

*Varda*

12-03-2003, 05:33 PM

Iona surveyed the dark and scattered ashes of the stables of the White Horse inn, before re-entering. The inn had regained its usual bustle, and most people were chatting quite contentedly again, pleased at the prospect of more work rebuilding the stable, one bright spot in a bad event. It was mostly those who had lost horses in the fire that were still grumbling and sad.

While serving some customers, and commiserating over the losses the fire had caused, Iona glanced around the room, and spotted a girl who looked not entirely unlike her, scrubbing one of the windows. The soot was very hard to get off, and the windows still had a dusty tinge. Iona hadn’t met this girl yet, and wiping her hands on her skirt, went over, held out her hand, and introduced herself.

“Hello..I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Iona, one of the serving maids. Are you new here?”

VanimaEdhel

12-03-2003, 05:39 PM

"Let go of the mug, my friend, before you bend the handle," Windheneb said to Castar, gently prying his hand off of the ale that the young man was no longer drinking.

"Who is he, I wonder?" Castar mused allowed, looking over to where the good Lady Aylwen was standing, conversing with another man. They seemed to be growing close. Castar did not like the man. "He looks as though he is up to no good. I do not trust him."

"That is only because he is talking to Mistress Aylwen," Windheneb said. "If he were talking to Zîra, say, you would not mind so much. Although why he would be talking to her..."

Castar was growing tired of the siblings' bickering. It was endearing at first, but now it grew to be a nuisance. Windheneb seemed to be unable to let a chance to insult his sister go by, and she seemed to be inclined to physically attack him each time he did so. Sure enough, Zîra reached over and smacked Windheneb on the back of his head. Castar sighed and turned back to Aylwen and the stranger.

"If only she would look over here," he said, beginning to grind his teeth a bit.

"Unclench your jaw, friend," Windheneb said jovially. But Windheneb did not know how it felt. He flirted, seemingly without attachment, to every pretty girl he met. Castar wished that just once Windheneb would actually like one of his female friends. Then he might know how Castar felt.

The three friends were all beginning to feel restless. Windheneb even ceased his flirting, seeming to grow tired of the serving girls. Castar thought he drank far more ale than he should. He wanted to keep Aylwen within sight, though. She was accomodating to his requests for refills, but the poor woman had begun to look a little worn. That is, until she began to converse with the traveler. She shot a glance here and there every now and again, as though subconsciously checking that all was as it should be, but she appeared to be more relaxed, at least to Castar. Did she ever look that relaxed when she was with him? He would have to pay attention next time the circumstance came about. Involved in his own thoughts, Castar missed everything Windheneb said, until the handsome young man forced his attention back to the table.

"-don't you think, Castar?"

"Hum? What?" Castar said, looking at Windheneb at the other side of the table. "Yes, I think so...of course. What was the question, again?"

"I said, 'The man over there appears to be making a good impression with Lady Aylwen, don't you think, Castar?'" Windheneb repeated.

Castar felt his cheeks turn a bit red. He brushed hair out of his face and sighed. "It would appear so," he finally said.

"You just met her, friend," Windheneb said, "You know nothing about the girl. Do not waste your stay here swooning over her."

"I was not swooning," Castar countered. "I hold Mistress Aylwen in the highest regard. I think she is a good person. And she certainly can handle responsibility. Look at the Inn."

"Look at the burned down stable," Windheneb countered.

"You know just as well as I do that was out of her control," Castar snapped, beginning to take his frustration with the stranger out on Windheneb.

"There's no need to get testy," Windheneb said, his voice becoming a little strained.

"Yes there is. I take offense at you accusing my friends of arson."

"I did no such thing!" Windheneb said, his voice rising to match Castar's.

"Boys, boys," Zîra said quietly, "Calm down. You would do well to remember where you are."

"I will calm down when he apologizes," Castar said loudly, standing.

"I will no apologize for something I did not do!" Windheneb said with equal force. He rose as well.

"Then I'll do it for you! I swear, you're both just like my children," Zîra said, still speaking in a low voice. She pulled them both back into the seats as a few people in the Inn turned to look at them. "Okay, Castar, Windheneb is very, very sorry he ever said anything to offend you or your lady friend. Windheneb, Castar mistook your words. Now shake and make up. Go ahead!"

The two men looked at Zîra in surprise. They had not been spoken to in such a way since both were children. They numbly shook hands, still staring at Zîra, who sat regally next to Windheneb. She smiled in a satisfied way, and the people that noticed the argument appeared to go back to their previous conversations. Castar finally looked at Windheneb, his eyebrows raised. Windheneb returned the look, as Zîra retained her noble, matronly position.

"All right, all right," she finally said, losing a bit of her smugness, "I'm sorry I treated you like children. Now start your fascinating discussion of the female mind again. Go ahead. I'm so intrigued."

"You don't have to get snippy," Windheneb muttered, looking down at his ale mug as though contemplating drowning himself in it to end the humiliation that he apparently felt.

"So I should continue letting yourself make fools of yourself? In case you forgot, the Lady Aylwen is still over there. She could have easily heard every word you said in your pointless argument."

Castar suddenly found himself feeling more admiration for Zîra than he felt before. He also suddenly felt incredibly stupid for his actions. He quietly apologized to Zîra, who said plainly that she needed no apology. Castar sighed again and looked into his own ale mug, wondering if he should join in Windheneb's drowning attempt. He knew his cheeks were bright red by now. Even Windheneb's pale, flawless cheeks were pink. They sat in silence until Zîra finally could not stand it any longer.

"Come on!" she said, "Someone speak! I can't take the silence anymore. It is far louder than any of your banter."

When they still did not speak, she continued, "So, Castar...tell me about how your family took on the profession of pottery."

Castar looked up at Zîra, who returned the gaze with very convincing curiosity. He finally smiled. "Well, we began the trade many generations ago..."

As Castar told the story, Windheneb gradually regained his composure. By the end of the recounting of Castar's lineage, Windheneb was out of his melancholy thoughts and was participating wholeheartedly in his usual merry manner. There was still a note of tension between the two, and Zîra often found herself filling in the pauses that existed in conversation when one or the other began to feel renewed indignation.

Taralphiel

12-03-2003, 11:33 PM

Lachlan stretched his arms out as he stopped his cart in the yard of Lowfel's workshop. He was in a cheerful mood, even after all the mugs he had downed the night before. The great reason had to be that he had only one errand that day: to collect the barrels from Lowfel. The rest of the day he could dally off as he wanted. But he planned on easing Lowfel's work instead.

Weaving through the shelves and chests moved to the floor, Lachlan called out to his friend.

'Lowfel! How fares it!'

'It has been better my friend' Lowfel replied from behind another barrel.

Manouvering around, Lachlan found Lowfel concentrating on mending another one of the winery's barels.

'I see youre still at it! How uch longer d'you think you'll be working?'

'A few hours at least. You should head out and do other errands before you come here I'd advise'

Lachlan drew his hands behind his head and stretched 'If I had any!' He cast a look around and said 'It looks like you could use some help lifting stuff. Mind if I stay about here and help ye today?'

'Of course not! You can walk Share to the Inn as well! But first, give me your strong arms help on that chest'...

Imladris

12-04-2003, 01:12 AM

Faran beamed with unrestrained pride as Bethberry told him to search for the woman Idona to help him with the stable. He had never before designed a stable before, but that was what Idona was for, he shrugged. Sigrid, too, had been hired, he thought with a pleased smile as he watched Goldwine scamper off somewhere. Bowing to the innkeeper, Bethberry, he said, “Thank you, ma’am. Where would Idona be?” he asked, curiously, his blue eyes searching the room, pausing at every female face that met his eye.

Bethberry said, “I do not know…” and then she went on to describe the girl. With a nod, Faran bowed again and strode quickly through the room. He passed a table and saw a pie that was brimming with berries swimming in red glaze. His eyes popped and he looked furtively around. He had already had a piece of pie, but not this kind and this kind looked tasty. Taking a silver knife, he cut himself a wedge, grinning with satisfaction as he could feel the plump berries yield before the sharpened blade. Snatching a nearby plate, he lifted the piece and hastily transferred it to his tin plate, watching with unconstrained satisfaction as the juice dripped in tantalizing drops and splattered on the wooden planks of the table. Narrowing his eyes and peering nonchalantly about him, he took his finger, wiped the juice, and stuck the finger in his mouth, delighting in the sweet flavour of the sauce.

Somehow finding his plate undisturbed in his old place, he was thankful that the waitresses had not yet come to his table. Sitting down upon the bench, he dug in to the pie, the red sauce oozing from the berries like blood. Faran absently realized that a man sat down beside him, talking about being smarter with his hands than with his head or something like that. The pie was so sweet, so good with the freshness of buries grown in a nearby garden.

“So what I have been thinking, is that I wanna be a carpenter perhaps. With the building of the stables and all, I was wonderin' if perhaps you can help me with learning that,” the mans said nervously.

Faran choked on his crust, and realized with a flush of crimson that this man had been speaking to him and that he had completely been ignoring the stranger. Wiping his mouth upon his blue sleeve, Faran gulped the rest of his crust down (it scratched his throat terribly) and gasped, “Sir! I am so sorry! Terribly sorry for ignoring you. Of course I would be glad to teach you carpentry…” Two students in one day…imagine that!

The man smiled with relief and Faran went on pleasantly, “Bethberry sent me to find a woman named Idona, so, if you want to accompany…” he let his voice trail off and looked longingly at the pie. No…he had already had two pieces and that was plenty.

The man nodded eagerly and Faran said, “Oh. The name’s Faran by the way,” he said, sticking out his hand.

The other man grasped it and said, “Talan. Nice to meet, ye.”

Faran smiled, twirled on his heel, and began to search for the girl that matched the description of Idona that Bethberry had told him. Looking at Talan who strode beside him, Faran said, “We’re looking for a girl with…” and he went on to describe the girl to Talan. Better four eyes than two, he reasoned. Besides, he wanted to make up for ignoring the man. He grimaced at the memory.

After wandering about the Common Room for sometime, Faran remarked to Talan, "Hmmm. Must be blind because I don't see her anywhere. Maybe she's not in the room." Shrugging, he looked around the room again.

[ 8:40 PM December 04, 2003: Message edited by: Imladris ]

Bêthberry

12-04-2003, 12:46 PM

Bethberry left Aylwen in charge of The Horse and quietly returned to her room, where she pack a large, tattered cloak under her arm and a satchel full of healing salves and swaddling cloths. Returning to the kitchen, she conferred with Froma over plans for the dinner and then went to the garden, where, under the cover of the bush at the back, she donned the tattered cloak and walked away, hood up, down the ally away from the baker's shop. Slowly, she would make her way around to the shed at the back, where Froma had told her to meet Ruthven.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Hold yourself together, man. Things won't look so grim then," Ruthven advised Aldor. He had been shaking and she had thrown a blanket over his shoulders, in case he fell into more serious shakes which could harm him. That much of healing she knew, but not much more. For Findur she could do little, for she knew not how to handle his raspish breath. An icepack had stopped the bleeding in his mouth and at the back of his head. And she had coaxed the baker to supply them with some warm tea. She was worried with the long delay, however, in treating the men. And anxious to get away to her work. She could ill afford to lose an entire day's work.

The soft fall of footstep was heard and suddenly a dark hooded figure appeared at the makeshift door. "Shush," warned the figure and with a toss of a hand, threw back the hood, revealing the Innkeeper. "I'm sorry for the delay. Many things requiring attention at the Inn. Now, what repairs are needed?"

A wavering Findur nearly collapsed, but Ruthven caught him. His face was cold, clammy and his skin blotchy. His pupils were small. He seemed not aware of himself.

Bethberry put down her bag and examined his head wound. His hair was matted with blood, but a large bump appeared around the wound. He coughed and with every breath seemed to wince. The healer added some feverfew and trillium leaves to the tea and bid both men drink it in small sips.

"It is a worry, this wound where the falling timber hit him," remarked Bethberry with pointed statement. We must keep him awake. Aldor, speak with him, keep his attention. Do not let him fall asleep while I apply a poultice to this wound." She lifted his shirt and saw two ribs poking against his skin. Luckily, the skin was not brokened. Tight wrapping would be all she could do for the ribs. She worked quickly, quietly, adding more agrimony as a healing wash to the basins of clear water which Ruthven would fetch when the first ones became too bloody to cleanse the wound any longer. Holding his head gently between her hands, she looked him in the eyes, speaking calmly to him. "I will give you some snakeroot leaves to chew that will heal your jaw where the tooth is broken and control the bleeding. You must remember to keep chewing them softly, to keep infection away. The man slowly came to look at her, the combination of her voice and the painful attentions to his wound bringing him back to full consciousness. She bound the head wound after applying a salve of beardtongue and mahonia and then swathed his chest with soft flannel, binding his ribs to hold them in place until they set. She turned then to Aldor, who all this time had kept up his patter with his friend.

His scraped knuckles were soon washed clean and the spoonful of monkshood oil which Bethberry gave him soon calmed his fretful demeanour. She washed his burned face lightly, again with agrimony, and cut away the singed hair of his scalp. She spread a thick salve of arnica over his face and scalp.

As she worked, she hummed a small tune under her breath and, slowly, both men began to hum it in time with her. Ruthven caught the beat with her foot, tapping the dirt floor as well as her frail limb could. The ministrations were swift and the time passed quickly. Finally Bethberry rose.

"Ruthven, you will be wanting to leave and ply your trade today, if you can."

The old woman nodded. "I know where some saddles and tack might be found, if any wish to trade to replace what they've lost, but I need to seek them quickly."

"Go, then, with thanks for helping us avoid the guard. They have little patience these days with strangers who disturb the peace, whatever the reason and, from the sound of things, we had a guest at the Inn who was none too charitable a soul."

"Indeed not, Beth. I was sorely tempted to hide his child away, for fear he would harm her, thinking that a child under his thumb was receiving her just desserts."

"They left Edoras?"

"It would appear, unless they have sought the other Inn."

"May the girl have luck."

Ruthven left and Bethberry turned to Aldor and Findur. "I have a wagon here, which I borrowed from our barrel maker, to help carry the timber. I can carry you back in it, claiming that you carried over your aid in putting out the fire into fiding the wagon for me. If we are stopped, I will attest that your wounds looked like they were indeed incurred in the fire, of falling timber and flames, as I was told by a grateful crowd. There will be a room at The Horse where you may stay until you recover. And perhaps work for you. What do you wish?"

She looked at both men and waited for them to reply.

[ 4:56 PM December 05, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]

Orual

12-04-2003, 06:19 PM

Eruvalde

It was a big common room for such a small girl to be in, all by herself.

Her father had gone off to see what help he could provide, leaving Eruvalde to her own devices. And about time, she thought: she was five years old, after all, not a child. Her mother hadn't treated her like a child.

The thought of her mother gave Eruvalde a moment's pause. She had been so sure that her father had told her that they were going to Momma's house, but Momma wasn't here. Oh, well, the girl thought, she'll meet us here. There was a whole inn to explore, and Eruvalde wasn't planning on missing so much as a square inch.

She walked among the people who were eating, getting more than one pat on the head and exclamation of what a lovely girl she was. She smiled politely and allowed them to muss her hair, though it rather irritated her. What did they think she was, a baby doll? Once they were done she smoothed her hair regally, bristling a little at the laughs that followed her motion. Adults. They could be so immature sometimes.

She tried striking up conversations with some of the other adults in the inn, but they all seemed busy and had no time to talk to her. Disappointed and frustrated, she put her hands on her hips and went off to the other side of the room.

She stopped when she heard music. She went over to the source, her head tilted, her steps long but quiet. She saw a fiddler and a young girl, probably not much older than herself, singing along. She smiled a little, hesitantly, and approached. She twirled her hair around her finger, not sure whether or not she should interrupt. The music was pretty, bright and cheerful, and it made Eruvalde want to dance. But instead she sat a little ways away, and listened.

Kryssal

12-04-2003, 11:44 PM

Keeping an eye on Reen while carving was harder than it seemed. He kept dissapearing into random places and if he didn't come when she called, Shrae would have to get up, find him, and put him back down near her work bench. She was just on another one such search when Lachlan popped into the doorway holding Reen and tickling him.

"Loose something?" he asked jovially as Reen took a swipe at his chin, causing Lachlan to quickly move his head back where it cracked slightly against the wall he hadn't quite moved away from yet.

Shrae giggled as Lachlan winced and rubbed his head.

"Here, you take him. He's dangerous."

Now Shrae laughed as she took the small boy. "What are you doing back here? Is Lowfel not finished with those barrels yet?"

Lachlan laughed. "You know your brother well. I'm here to escort you back to the Inn, if you'd like to return now, that is?"

"Well, I just want to finish this line. If you'd watch Reen I'd get it done in no time."

Lachlan gave a dramatic sigh and rolled his eyes, but he was smiling again as he took the baby and started the entertaining. Shrae quickly set back to work and in around fifteen minutes had finished the fourth line on her brothers new sign.

"Having fun?" Shrae leaned over Lachlan's back who was stomping toward Reen on all fours.

He looked up at her and smiled. "Yup! Ready to go?"

She snatched up Reen and blew a raspberry on his cheek making him squiggle and squeel in joy.

"Yup."

~*~

They joked and spoke of their families for a little bit, until Lachlan noticed the smell in the air.

"That's too strong to come from a fireplace or pit, and it's not the clearing season," Lachlan looked worried.

There was smoke in the sky, but they had been constantly by buildings and couldn't see where it specifically came from.

"Come on," Lachlan held her arm as he rushed her steps a bit. Shrae was new to this city, but the ale apprentice knew many of the inhabitants.

Soon they came to a clearing and suddenly people were everywhere. The smoke was sifting out somewhat, but it was still heavy on the air and Shrae had no clue where it was coming from. Lachlan hailed to a passerby who yelled back, "It's the White Horse! Barn fire."

[ 12:45 AM December 05, 2003: Message edited by: Kryssal ]

Aylwen Dreamsong

12-05-2003, 11:24 AM

"I guess that you are not from around here either, miss - your looks speak of Gondor also. May I ask how you came to be able to command such a rowdy lot from your throne of a bar stool?" Hisimé questioned, smiling and looking to the said barstool, which had become occupied by a little boy drinking milk with his mother nearby.

"Aye, sir, Gondor is my home as well," Aylwen confirmed, moving a step to the left as Tamurilo's daughter Eruvalde walked confidently by her. "My mother was a musician; I suppose I learned it from watching her quiet her audiences. In any case, the bar stool is as close to any throne as I will come, and still it will be of use to others still. Well, sir Hisimé, welcome to Rohan and the White Horse. I fear I must be getting back to work, but I shall see if I can get a meal out here for you soon."

Aylwen smiled and took her leave, going to the kitchen to find the keys for the hallway of forgotten rooms. On her way there, she caught the tail end of some argument at one of the tables. Turning to see if some fight needed to be prevented or broken up, Aylwen saw who the shouts had eminated from: Caster and Windheneb. They were standing and shouting at one another, which confused Aylwen greatly. The two were fighting nonetheless, but Aylwen neglected to call Talan and walked over to their table herself.

"Something wrong over here, Castar? Windy?" Aylwen asked sternly, picking up empty mugs and wondering if the two had had too much to drink.

"There's no trouble, Miss Aylwen," the woman at the table spoke up with a smile, for Castar had taken to looking down at the table blankly and Windheneb had begun to glance over at Castar. The woman continued. "Castar was just telling us about the history and facts about pottery and the like."

"I see," Aylwen murmured, looking to Castar and then to Windy and back again. "Well, if there are any problems, just let me know or call for Talan, miss."

And with that, Aylwen smiled grimly and walked away from their table with their empty mugs in tow.

The kitchen was chaotic and full of steam and the smell of fresh-cut vegetables and meat. Aylwen called a quick farewell to Bethberry as she left through the back door, and Aylwen momentarily wondered where the Innkeeper was going, but did not worry as she grabbed the keys for all the doors. Then Aylwen proceeded to make her way to the back hallway, and unlocked the first door to the hall. It almost jammed itself shut, but after a few frustrated tugs the hall door opened.

Aylwen unlocked the first door on her right, and coughed as she opened the door and stirred stray dust. The room needed serious dusting, and the sheets and covers needed washing, but the old rooms would certainly be ready for boarding in no time. Satisfied, Aylwen unlocked the rest of the rooms but locked the hall door and went to see if any maids could be spared the afternoon serving. Later that night she would show Sigrid to her room, and give a short tour of the inn. Returning the keys to their safe place, Aylwen went back out to the main hall to refill drinks and fill orders.

Daniel Telcontar

12-05-2003, 12:28 PM

Talan smiled with relief as Faran agreed to take him under his tutelage, and looked down in the ground when the carpenter called him "sir". Nobody had never called him that, certainly not in his time as a street urchin in Dale, nor here. Since he had not even lived a score of years yet, mostly just called him boy or lad.

He nodded when Faran mentioned the name Idona. "Aye, I recognise the name, though your description is a bit odd. But I reckon we'll find her quickly. You checked the Common Room and she ain't here?" After pondering a few seconds, Talan said: "Me guess is she is in the kitchen, then. If she ain't, then perhaps at her room. Let's check the kitchen first, and then her room if she ain't be in the kitchen."

So he led Faran out into the kitchen, grabbing an apple as he entered through the door and looked around for Iona. But she wasn't there either, so he left the room while saying to Faran: "I reckon she be at her room then..."

He stopped speaking as his gaze fell towards the windows, and he spotted none other than Iona. How they could have missed her when first searching the room was beyond him, but he shrugged his shoulders and gave Faran a push with his elbow.

"See that girl over there, by the window? Not the one shrubbing it, but the other one who serves around here; that be yer girl, Iona, that you've been searching for."

"Iona? I am looking for someone called Idona." Faran replied a bit puzzled. Talan could not help but laugh, and then said: "My mistake. Ye see, I thought you were looking after this her serving wench called Iona, but I reckon you are looking for a guest with a similar name. I did wonder about your description since it didn't seem to match completely. Sorry 'bout that, let's see if we can find this here Idona then."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 11:27 AM December 06, 2003: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]

Imladris

12-06-2003, 12:25 PM

“Well,” Faran said, “this Idona certainly isn’t in the Inn. Outside, maybe?” Talan shrugged and nodded.

Heading for the door, they saw the ashes of the former stable: chunks of charred wood the only ruins. “Carpentry is relatively easy,” Faran said easily, “if you’re strong and patient. Of course, you always have to remember to measure correctly and get the angles and all that right, but after the first warped barn or building or whatever, you quickly learn the quirks. I remember the first cabinet that I made,” he added with a laugh to Talan, “It was a disaster…I think my master thought that I would be hopeless failure in the art of carpentry.”

People milled around the barn and Talan remarked, “I reckon it’ll be hard to find this Idona lass.”

Faran heaved a sigh. “Nigh impossible,” he agreed. “But since nothing is truly impossible and since it appears we have plenty of time for searching, it doesn’t really matter how hard it to find her. At least we’re not in a rush,” Faran continued. “It seems that whenever I am in a dreadful hurry, an object (say, my hammer) decides to loose itself. It’s almost as if that hammer has a mind of its own,” Faran said darkly, with sparkling eyes as he patted the hammer that hung innocently upon his belt.

“Why don’t we ask somebody?” Talan asked.

Well. That would be a start, Faran thought mentally. “Brilliant, Talan,” he agreed hastily. “Now who to ask?” he asked rhetorically. “We can’t ask one who is to busy,” he said, eyeing the people around him, “because they’d probably just wave us off. Hmmm.”

A boy seemed to be standing still, absently staring at the inn. Walking towards him, Faran knelt to his level and said, “Hello there, fellow. And what might your name there.”

Pulling his gaze from the Inn, the boy looked at him intently. Faran wiggled his eyebrows at him. “Madi,” the boy finally said.

“Well, Madi,” Faran said, “have you happened to see a woman named Idona anywhere perchance?”

Ealasaide

12-10-2003, 10:47 AM

Olav

As he finished the last bite of the inn’s excellent luncheon, Olav sat back and sighed contentedly. There was definitely something to be said for community and a sense of belonging. He watched idly as a woman, presumably the innkeeper, posted a list of jobs available around the inn. Unexpectedly, he felt his heart lift at the idea of applying for one of those jobs and, if he was lucky, maybe becoming a member of the community at Edoras. After all, they needed carpenters and, as he had told Sigrid, he did know a bit of carpentry he had learned from his father prior to his life on the road. Ragnar or no, Olav was getting tired of living on the edge all the time. Ragnar thrived on it, but Olav had lately found himself casting a rather wistful eye upon the green plowed fields and thatched roofs of the farm houses they passed in their travels. He wanted to stop traveling for a while. Maybe put down some roots of his own.

He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Sigrid, who also watched the posting of the job list with avid interest. If she found a job at the inn, that would be all the more incentive for him to stay…at least for a while.

Almost as though he had been reading Olav’s mind, Ragnar suddenly hooked his thumb into a fold in Olav’s sleeve and dragged him to a quiet corner of the room.

"What are you doing?" Ragnar asked quietly, but there was an edge to his voice. "You’re not thinking of applying for a job, are you?"

Olav set his jaw obstinately. "What if I am maybe?"

Ragnar leaned forward, his forehead almost touching Olav's. "We're done here," he said firmly. "Fire is out, luncheon consumed, and girl is reunited with dog. Our horses are probably finished being re-shoed at the blacksmith's. We need to go."

"They need help re-building. I know a bit of carpentry."

"You don't know anything."

Olav felt his temper flare, but he pushed it down. He had been following Ragnar for seven years, even since he was fifteen and on his own for the first time. He owed Ragnar at least some loyalty, but lately Olav had been wondering if it had been a mistake to leave home in the first place. He just wasn't cut out for the same sort of life that Ragnar was, but so far Ragnar had managed to keep him out of trouble. Also, it didn't hurt that they had both seen a fair bit of money pass through their hands. Olav sighed and looked away from his cousin. Across the room, he caught sight of Sigrid curtsying and talking with the innkeeper. A moment later, as she fairly skipped away, he knew she had been hired.

Following Olav's eyes, Ragnar began to laugh. "It's that girl."

Olav felt his cheeks redden. "No, it's not."

Still laughing quietly, Ragnar shook his head. "You had me worried, cousin. I thought you were thinking about hanging up your spurs."

"I might," said Olav stubbornly. Actually, that was exactly what he had been thinking.

Ignoring him, Ragnar shrugged knowingly. "We can stay for a bit. I'm sure I can find something useful to do around here." He cast an appraising glance around the room. "But as soon as little Sigrid breaks your heart, you'll be more than ready to move on."

Olav shrugged. "You know, I wouldn't be so sure."

Ragnar gave him a sly sidewise grin. "No?"

"No."

"Hmm."

"You know, you don't have to stay, too."

This time, the smile vanished and Ragnar's sapphire blue eyes turned on Olav with a piercing intensity. "You want to be a carpenter?" he asked sharply. To Olav, Ragnar’s expression looked strangely threatening, almost ruthless. For the first time, since the conversation had begun, Olav felt himself falter.

"Uh, maybe," he said softly, but his brown eyes met Ragnar’s gaze with steadiness and calm decision.

"Okay, then," Ragnar shrugged. To the casual observer, the gesture looked like one of light-hearted indifference, but Olav knew Ragnar too well. The sudden flip-flop in his cousin's attitude made Olav feel distinctly nervous. Ragnar was up to something, Olav knew, but what it was he could only guess. Ragnar could be so unpredictable. Usually he took Olav into his confidence, but this time Ragnar’s face gave nothing away.

"We’ll be carpenters, then," Ragnar finished with an easy smile. With that, he turned and looked around for the Innkeeper, who no longer stood near the jobs bulletin where she had been only moments earlier. In fact, she was no longer in the room.

"Where'd she go?" he asked, his sharp eyes scanning the common room.

Olav shook his head. "Don't, Ragnar."

"What?"

"Whatever it is you're thinking," answered Olav gravely. "These are good people. Don't do anything to hurt them."

In apparent mystification, Ragnar shook his head. "Why would I do that?"

Olav didn't respond, but gave Ragnar a dark, glowering silence instead, which only caused his cousin to grin. While Ragnar's overall demeanor seemed to be one of innocent bewilderment in the face of a wild accusation, Olav noticed that Ragnar had made no promises to the contrary. Standing beside him, Olav waited nervously for the return of the innkeeper. He really did want a job at the inn. If he got it, though, the difficulty would lie in keeping Ragnar on the straight and narrow, which would be kind of like trying to keep a wolf as a house pet. Olav knew he would have to try to strike a balance between protecting Edoras from Ragnar and Ragnar from Edoras. He sighed. Life would be so much easier if Ragnar would just take his black horse and ride off into the sunset.

********************************

Sigrid

Having been offered the job by Bethberry, Sigrid found herself put to work almost immediately with the task of window-washing, which she took to doing with the zeal of the newly-employed. The soot was hard to get off of the leaded window glass, so Sigrid found herself scrubbing quite hard. Completely immersed in her task, she never noticed as one of the serving girls approached her and held out her hand.

"Hello," the other girl said pleasantly. "I'm Iona, one of the serving maids. Are you new here?"

Sigrid startled and turned around quickly, nearly overturning her water bucket in the process. Seeing the other girl, she smiled broadly and wiped her own hands on her skirt and shook Iona's hand.

"I'm Sigrid," she answered. "And you're right - I'm very new. Just hired, in fact, to do a bit of cleaning and laundry." She gestured to the soapy window. "Windows... As I was telling Miss Bethberry, I arrived this morning just in time for the fire. It's such an awful thing."

Iona gave Sigrid a quick smile and a shrug. "It really is, but once everyone has had a little time to get over the loss, the inn will be a right jolly place again, what with the excitement of rebuilding and all. "

"Oh, I hope so." Sigrid smiled as well. "Right now so many people seem so sad. It's hard to lose an animal, especially a horse or a dog. They're so much like family." She paused. "Have you been working here long?" she asked after a moment.

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:45 PM December 12, 2003: Message edited by: Ealasaide ]