[Envinyatar]

It was well past midnight when Gaeradan returned to the King’s residence. Old Ceorl was the porter on the seldom used southeastern door that led into the kitchen gardens. He was none too watchful, if truth be told - his only intruder in many weeks being a plump hare and his offspring seeking to raid the Cook’s vegetable patch. That and the bold family of raccoons that came regularly in the dead of night to raid the southern fish pond. So, it was with great pleasure that he stopped Gaeradan with a harrumph and an official sounding inquiry into his particulars.

‘It’s me, old man,’ said Gaeradan quietly, slipping his hand beneath his cloak and sliding a small flagon of tawny port into the surprised hands of the door warden. ‘It’s a brisk night for your old bones. I’ve brought you a little something to ward off the chill.’

A few more moments of pleasantries passed, and soon Ceorl was well on his way to insuring he would be adequately insulated against the night. Gaeradan bowed his head to him in mock salute and wound his way through the dark pathways to the eastern door.

A few moments later and he was walking down the hall to his rooms. Pelladal, he saw, had taken up the post outside Eärnil’s door. Good! He had requested that this guard be placed in the retinue of those who would guard Eärnil. He had already proved himself in the market place whn he saved the boy’s life, and again in the marketplace when he had gleaned and gathered news for Gaeradan.

‘Is he asleep?’ asked Gaeradan, approaching the boy’s door. Pelladal nodded his head ‘yes’ and opened the door to the room quietly for Gaeradan to have a look. Eärnil was curled in a ball on his bed, Huan resting against his knees, his great yellow eyes watching the intruder. ‘Fair sailing,’ he whispered to the slumbering boy, then shut the door firmly. ‘Glad to have you on board,’ Gaeradan said, smiling at Pelladal who had resumed his position beside the door. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’

Tomorrow was coming all too soon, he noted, as he entered his rooms and saw from his window the pale light of predawn rimming the edge of the horizon. Sleep was disregarded in favor of a quick wash up in cold water, a clean pair of breeches and a fresh tunic. Already the King’s residence was rousing, the servants moving quietly down the halls with pots of strong tea and ewers of water for guests and residents to begin their day.

Gaeradan slipped out his door, closing it securely behind him, and made for his small office. There was a stack of contracts and mails to be looked at which would take him most of the day.

[ August 25, 2003: Message edited by: Envinyatar ]