[Bêthberry]

Word spread fast and as dawn approached, a posse was made ready. The White Horse, as became most inns, was one of the centres of the community, and was prepared for swift action. Horses for all the pursuers were brought forth, weapons at the ready as well.

Old Fróma made sure everyone had a warm breakfast under their belly, for the dark night sky meant that tracking must wait for dawn. Sausages, coffee, breads, preserves--he insisted that everyone ate, for to leave hungry would be foolhardy, and the Rohirrim were no fools.

Bethberry noted that Malienna, Ælfritha and Anglachel and the others were swift in arranging their affairs. She turned to Deorlin, though, in his distress.

"Deorlin, if you will trust me, tell me your message for the Golden Hall, and I will see it is safely delivered, both promtly and discreetly as well. You are needed here, for while the Merchant may well know the roads beyond our borders, you will be needed as the official of Edoras, for the laws and rules of Rohan must be represented as well as upheld."

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Meanwhile, Ælfritha made ready for departure. She took her leave of Heórrend with grim feelings, happy at least that he was out of danger.

She thanked Eomund for his horses and choose Nithal, a bay who looked strong enough to be able to endure a hard gallop of an hour or two at a time. Saddle bags, pack, blankets, a tack kit, all were saddled up. A sheepskin coat was all the mail she wore, and no weapons save the knives she used in the care of horses. Her whip as well, which she was prepared to use upon the thieves although no horse's back had ever known it. And for the first time in her life, she welcomed spurs upon her boots. She waited the greasy first light of day, the anxiety in her stomach snapping like the jaws of a wolf who paces around sniffing for the trail.

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Airerûthiel's first post

Maikadurion listened intently at this talk of stolen horses. He knew that such treachery was frowned upon intensely in Rohan, and that to have a horse stolen in the land of the horse-lords was like parting a mother from her babe. Despite the comfortable routine he had got himself into working at the inn of the White Horse, in his heart he still yearned to break his vow and seek adventure in Middle-earth once more.

Then suddenly his thoughts leapt outside to the stable. "Formenelen," he whispered, and his heartbeat quickened, pounding in his ears like raindrops onto a roof of Edoras during a downpour. If his mother's horse had been taken...no, it would be too great a blow to his memory. The image of her pale face with its long hair as golden as oak leaves in autumn and the ice-blue eyes as cold as the first spring morn had all but faded from the memory of nine years, when he saw her lying in state in the Great Hall of his uncle.

As the throng of people poured forward from the door of the inn like a river in flood, he slipped in among them as silently and quickly as a shadow or a breath of wind, noticed by none, and made his way across the cobbled courtyard to the stables.

The half-Elf quieted the horses in Rohirric and the tongue of his Elven kin, and they were still - he had possessed the gift prized so highly by Men of the Riddermark for as long as he could remember. Going through each one of the remaining beautiful beasts, whose eyes had grown in their heads to twice their size and were immersed in a liquid trauma that gazed out pleadingly at him, Maikadurion reached the stall of the North Star. He closed his eyes as his delicate fingers ran themselves over the engraved brass plate on the stall door, and then slowly opened them as he stood up, already knowing what it was he would find there.

It was as empty as a tombstone that waits with yawning open mouth, hungry for its eternal meal of a coffin and a life.

"Then I know what I must do," he said to himself in a saddened and sombre tone, his feet as heavy as the helm with the treacherous path laid before them. "I have no choice but to leave, to return to my old life...to go back to what appears to be my destiny."

He walked back into the inn alongside the stragglers who offered only provisions to the troupe of riders, and then walked towards the bar.

"Drink this, my friend." Maikadurion glanced up to see Bethberry's kindly face as she took in his own expression. "I am surprised you are not on this side of the bar; after all, you seemed more content there than you do when we are divided by this wooden barricade."

"Good lady Bethberry, I have a boon to ask of you," said Maikadurion, opening his mouth to continue with his request. But he got no further; the innkeeper's sorrowful half-smile told him all he needed to know.

"You were not destined for the simple life, my friend," she replied. "Although for a short time you were content to work for your living, I see that in your heart your desire is to taste adventure all your days in Middle-earth. And maybe one day our paths will cross again. Go now, and fulfil your desires."

Maikadurion kept a pack behind the bar, filled with everything he would need should he choose to leave Edoras for the unknown, and he gratefully took this now from Bethberry. "You have been good to me, and I owe you a great debt. I leave you with my promise that one day I will return to the White Horse."

"And I shall hold your faith to that promise," replied the innkeeper. "You are strong and brave, and you leave this place with honour, having proved your worth. Go now; without horses to spare and your own mount taken, it will be a long journey on foot, even for the son of Elves and Men."

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Gryphon Hall's first post

It has been a tiring but deeply satisfying few months for the dwarf Corrin. Up and down Dunland, and through the homesteads of Rohan, now enjoying some warm ale and good pipeweed in the White Horse. And such good ale as he hadn't had in a long time, served by such a nice innkeeper, too. Being in the middle of Edoras, he didn't even feel the need to wear his armor; just normal clothes tonight, thank you very much. Aaaaah, yes, the wonderful fact of having sold almost all his wares and enjoying the profits. Nothing can spoil this, thought Corrin.

A woman suddenly burst in and she was obviously distressed. 'Good people of Rohan and guests of the Mark,' she began, 'we are abused and assaulted within our very gates. Our horses have been stolen, four of them mine, those of others as well. One of our own has been wounded. Who will join me in pursuit to recover the horses?' Oh, bother! thought Corrin, And it was turning out to be such a pleasant night, too. He turned to a gaping lad seated beside him, and said, '`Tis a bad thing to steal any of the horses of Rohirrim, you know.'

The lad turned toward him and looked even more surprised. Corrin paid no heed, but added, 'Yes, awful bad thing. Might as well steal one of their women or babies, it doesn't matter.' As he said this thing about women and babies, he thought of his own wife and children, and began to feel hot. 'The Horse-lords will go after 'em like nothing and make 'em pay,' he said, beginning to feel really riled up. 'Maybe,' Corrin added, 'maybe I go with them and test this out.' He was fingering his axe, then looked at the lad he was talking to, but he was gone.

He looked around, making sure that the silly kid didn't just sneak away, but the lad, well, what he thought was a lad was really nowhere in sight. 'Corrin, my boy,' said the dwarf to himself, '`tis a shame that you can no longer hold your liquor, talking to thin air like that.' The initial vengeful reaction gone, he greedily gulped his ale. 'But where's the fun if such good drink doesn't make you imagine stuff awhiles.' He raised his tankard to Bethberry, who smiled back.

By now, others were volunteering to go after the horse thieves and there was a general uproar. Some of the customers were suddenly leaving for the stables, probably to see if at least their horses were spared and left behind. Corrin sighed. 'I guess I can go on one free adventure,' he muttered softly to himself. 'Darrin is still on business and Dáie thinks I shall be returning by spring.' Quickly counting and estimating, he decided to go along with the posse. 'They will need a stout dwarf. Yes, they will.' Basking in his own heroism, and all the ale beginning to go to his head, he went up to his room without informing Bethberry or anyone that he was going. By the time he lay in bed, he had forgotten about the horses and the muster of the posse.

And he snored loudly, too, as only a dwarf can.

The next day, the sun was just about to rise, the posse that left some time before had already followed the trail, and Corrin the dwarf suddenly woke up with a start. He was feeling that he needed to do something important, very important, but he can't remember what.

'Breakfast!' he roared. 'I shall remember when I've had my breakfast.' As was his custom, he started preparing as if to leave. He wore his metal hose, his hauberk, his greaves, but not his helmet. All bundles neatly packed, ready to be heaved on his back, but in the meantime left in his room. He was beginning to feel good again and had forgotten about the posse. 'Tra-la-la-la-la,' he sang on his way down, oblivious to the others who may be sleeping. Hmmmmm... wait a minute, some of the doors are open.

The dining area was, understandably, quiet and almost empty of people, save Bethberry. She seems to have had quite a night, he thought. Looks like she hasn't slept a wink.

'Aaahh! My good innkeeper! Have you got any vittles for a hungry dwarf?' He suddenly felt the nagging doubt in his mind again, that something very important to do. Corrin was suddenly quiet and thoughtful as he went back to the exact same seat he was in the night before. Bethberry quickly brought some food over, as well as ale; too quickly, it seems. The food usually took time to cook. This was still warm. Corrin looked up and instinctly raised his tankard. Bethberry smiled back. He looked to where the gaping lad sat the night before.

And suddenly it all memory of the night before hit him so hard that he actually fell out of his chair. 'Foolish dwarf! There is no time for dilly-dallying!' He motioned to Bethberry, and roared, 'Ho! Inkeeper! Some provisions, if you please, for a week or two of hot pursuit.' Corrin's voice was shrill with dismay and hurry; he hated being left behind for any reason. 'Weapons! I need my weapons!' He ran back up and rummaged through his pack, taking one two-handed battle-axe, two smaller throwing axes, and finally his short broad sword and buckler shield.

Having these, he ran out of the door. And then ran back in. 'Of all the bother in this world!' he exclaimed as he shoved his helm on. He ran down the steps, and then fell down the rest of the way. He rolled back into a standing position and then faced Bethberry, whose hands were on her hips.

'Please, tell me where they went! I can catch up with them, dwarves need no sleep and I, we, can march day and night!' He took a step closer, his voice urgent and pleading. 'They will have to rest soon; I can catch up with them! I can! Please, tell me where they went and let me go, too.'

[ January 04, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ]