[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The Lady Éowyn smiled at Bêthberry and inclined her head as a token of respect to the former Innkeeper. “Greetings to you, my old friend,” she said. “I well remember how well you kept the Horse when Edoras was my home. My memories of those days might be dark, but they are not wholly without laughter. Many’s the time I would seek shelter here from the darkness and despair of my own home. And to answer your question, yes, I am a great admirer of the young Bard’s – who amongst us is not! – but I do not come simply to accompany him on the way. We are preparing to leave within this half hour and I feared that he might be left behind. I well know what it is to abandoned by the Lord one longs to follow – I would not have the young man forced to ride in our wake, scanning the horizon for sign of hope and friends. Besides, we long for amusement upon the Road, as we do not part from hence in joy but in great haste for there is a threat to Ithilien that must be countered.”

Osric rose to his feet, his sword hand seeking his weapon through force of habit. “What manner of threat my Lady? If it be aught that can be slain with steel, I will vouch you the aid of my sword. It is sturdy yet, though wielded by one who has perhaps see his best days.”

The Lady smiled gravely at the old warrior, not in mock of his offer but at the glorious memories of his many exploits in the defence of Rohan. “No, good Osric, your sword – though mighty yet – will not be needed. Ithilien is now well-guarded and more than able to defend itself from what besets it. We have received word that a band of freed slaves of Mordor from far to the east of that dark land have come, seeking refuge. They are armed and wild, and have caused much unrest among the people they have met, but they do not offer battle. My Lord and I have decided, that it would be best for us to return and determine how best to serve these folk. Land will be found for them, should they want it, either in Ithilien or in the empty wastes or Eriador. Many such have been housed in these years since the War, and there are many yet to provide for.”

A clatter of hooves in the yard preceded the sudden entrance of Leofan, Gomen and the erstwhile Hearpwine, all of them sweaty and dishevelled from their galloping return to the Inn. The stablemaster and his son came up short with shock to see who stood in the door of the Inn, and even Hearpwine, who had become used to the company of nobles from his time in the Hall, had to recover himself quickly. Beaming red with exertion and embarrassment, he bowed low to the Lady, saying, “I am sorry to have brought you in search of my My Lady. I had intended this day to keep my bed, but then I promised the lad Gomen…”

Éowyn held up her hand and gently interrupted the torrent of explanation. “The good Bêthberry has already explained, master Bard. I have come not to chide but only to hurry you along, for we are to gather at the gates within this half hour.”

“Indeed, my Lady,” Hearpwine said, “I saw the Lord Faramir and others at the gate as I came, and I tried to call out my explanation, but I was so hurried to return to collect my belongings and to take my farewells…”

Again the Lady stilled him with a gesture, pointing out gently that if he did not make his goodbyes now he never would. Once more Hearpwine flushed and ran off to collect his belongings. The Lady smiled at his retreating back, then, bidding farewell to Osric, Bêthberry and the others, left the Inn. Mounting her horse she cantered through the streets of Edoras.

Not long after Hearpwine returned down the stairs and stood in the middle of the mead-hall, wanting to make his goodbyes but not knowing how to do it. It was Bêthberry who spoke. “Nay, Hearpwine, we know that you would wish to speak with us all in turn, and I think I can safely say that we all know what you would tell us. But you have no time for proper farewells, so take your leave of us now and perhaps sing a final song as you ride off.” Hearpwine smiled at the woman, and at all his friends of the Inn, and for the first time since any there had known him, he was speechless. He quickly took each of them by hand, before turning to the door. He suddenly came up short, however, as though remembering one last task. Without meeting anyone’s gaze he rushed into the kitchens to say his goodbyes to the lass Maercwen.