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The top rim of the sun was barely visible on the eastern horizon, but the hall was already stirring. Javan woke no later than the others and made his way directly to the kitchen. He was turned away before he had barely entered: they did not even give him a chance to steal a crust of the bread baked the previous night. He went away with his hands as empty as his stomach, but he smiled, for at least there was sure promise of food in an hour or two when the chores were done.
He began the daily task of bringing water to each of the stalled horses before tossing them their ration of hay.
“Turn out the two at the end, will you?” Léof asked as Javan passed him in the aisle.
“Aye,” Javan answered briefly. He finished his task before going to turn the two horses out into the yard. He released the first one, but paused before returning for the second.
“You’re out here already?” he said, spotting Elfthain at work grooming his own mare. Javan went over to them. He clapped his hand amiably on Saff’s off shoulder. The mud was so caked on her stiffened coat that his hand did not even raise a cloud of dust. He grimaced “This’ll take a while,” he observed.
Elfthain laughed dryly, but there was not much to say in response to that, and he kept brushing methodically.
“Have you heard if you’re staying or going yet?” Javan asked after a pause. “It seemed uncertain last I heard.”
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