[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The old man burst into the Inn with more speed and energy than any who knew him could have expected. He stood stock still in the entrance for a moment, his eyes taking in the occupants of the Mead Hall, but his furrowed brow indicated that whomever he sought was not there. He turned to the Innkeeper. “Good Mistress Aylwen, where is my student Hearpwine?” he asked breathlessly.

Aylwen, who had only just that moment been addressed by Bêthberry, took a moment to collect herself. “Master Eorcyn,” she replied as courteously as she could in the face of his rather abrupt manner, “I do not know. I have myself only just now returned from a long journey. Perhaps Bêthberry, who was looking after the Inn during my absence…” but she did not get a chance to finish, for Eorcyn was already rushing to Bêthberry’s side. Paying no heed to Sigurd and Osric (whom he somewhat pointedly ignored), he asked the woman if she knew where Hearpwine had gone. Bêthberry returned his gaze coolly – she was clearly not a woman who enjoyed being interrupted but for the sake of his high place in the Hall she would overlook it. “I believe that he went out riding with young Gomen,” she said.

“Riding!” Eorcyn acted as though Hearpwine had sought to inconvenience him personally. “But I must speak with him! He said that he would come here to sleep today, and now he is out riding? Perhaps I have not been working him as hard as I thought.”

“You have been working him much harder than I think is required, Eorcyn,” came the reply. This brought the old man up short, for he was unused to people taking such a tone with him, particularly since his elevation at the Contest. He gazed at Bêthberry in amazement, but the angry retort died on his lips as he looked at her. Something in her eye seemed to forbid him his hasty words.

“I am sorry, Mistress Bêthberry,” he said, “but it is urgent that I speak with my pupil. Do you know when he will return?”

“I am afraid I do not. But perhaps Maercwen will know. I saw her speaking with Gomen about the ride.”

“Thank you, lady. Thank you very much.” Eorcyn surprised himself with the ingratiating courtesy of his response, but he did not have time to wonder on it long. With as much speed as his aged body could manage he sought out Maercwen in the kitchens, where he surprised her with her arms half immersed in the washing-up tub. As she wiped her soapy hands on her apron, she listened open mouthed to the Master Bard’s explosion of words.

“Miss Maercwen, I have been sent to find Hearpwine and bid him be ready, but I find that he is not here. He told me that he meant to seek his bed this day, so I assured them that I could deliver their message without delay, but now I have found that he is on a ride – a ride, no less! – and not here at all. Oh dear, oh dear, this is most unfortunate, most unfortunate. The party is set to depart and have demanded his presence, but if he is gone from the City how am I to bring him where he is bid to come, and I am ordered to bring him…”

“Master Eorcyn,” Maercwen cried, stopping the flood with a gesture. “Please, speak more slowly, for I cannot understand you. You say that you have been sent to bring Hearpwine somewhere, and you cannot find him. That much I can help you with, although I fear you will not like the answer. Hearpwine has taken my brother riding in the hills and they will not be back for several hours. Now, if you can take that news with some patience, please tell me what it is you need him for.”

Eorcyn sat in a small chair at the kitchen table and laid his head upon his hand. “Oh dear, it is as I feared. What shall I tell them?”

“Tell who?”

“Why, the Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn of course. They have sent me to tell Hearpwine that he must make his farewells, for they are bound for Ithilien this very day!”