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Eodwine
"Frodides! There you are!" Eodwine and Saeryn came up to her near one of her boiling kettles in the baker. She turned to look them up and down.
"And where else would you expect to find me?"
"Well, just so!" Nothing could dampen Eodwine's spirits this day, least of all the wiplash tongue of his head cook. "There is a wedding, and-"
"-and me last to know and a cake to bake and a feast to prepare at the drop of a hat, no doubt!"
Sure enough, Frodides was almost on the boil herself; word had gotten round.
"Never you fear, Frodides," said Saeryn. "We would not expect such from you on short notice. Do whatever is in your mind to do, no more and no less. We will be content."
Frodides' brow rose. "Is this the way of it, then, lord?"
"My bride speaks for me in this matter, my dear head cook."
Frodides flushed and beamed. "You just wait and see what I can come up with when I put my mind to it!" She waved her ladel at them.
Saeryn grinned, and Eodwine allowed a smile. "Remember though, no more is expected than what you care to do."
"I heard you the first time. Now out of my kitchen so I can get something done!"
"Yes ma'am," they both said, laughing, and made their way arm in arm, practically skipping out of the baker, only to come to a sudden halt as a human stormcloud approached them in the person of Randvér.
"Oh no. Now what have I done," Eodwine murmured. Saeryn nudged him, snickering.
"At least you could have given me word!" Rand said, his face black with rage.
"Word of what, my friend?"
Rand looked the more indignant for having to explain himself. "My daughter is practically betrothed and you told me nothing of it!" He seemed to want to find an appropriate expression to carry his spleen, and settled on one word. "Friend!" He spit.
"I did not think it a terrible thing for Ginna go a courting with my redoubtable smith. And surely you overspeak the case."
"Do I? He has asked me for her hand in marriage! How is that for over speaking?"
"Wonderful!" Eodwine grinned. "What a match! Don't you think so, Saeryn?"
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