Off walked Léof, trying very hard to hide his limp. Eodwine shook his head, grinning. He would have to have a word with that young man. It seemed he was too used to being untrusted and hid what should not be.
Hmm, oh lord of Middle Emnet, that's not bad thinking for a lord of the Eorlingas; maybe there's hope for you yet. Eodwine rolled his eyes.
Fool, any grown man could think as good a thought and have not the makings of a lord of other folk. Go help the others and quit thinking for a bit.
He took a step in the direction of Degas and the others, busily at work removing broken pieces of wall from the kitchen door - they seemed to be making quite good work of it without his help - when he stopped and looked about him. The rain was lessening. In fact, he and all the others, no doubt, had clean forgotten that it was raining at all in all the hubbub since the downed wall.
The downed wall. How had that happened? The next thought shook him at a deep level that would have scared him had he paid closer attention to it, but the thing itself distracted him. Where was Manawyth? Eodwine frowned. Could the tipped wall had been foul play? He began walking amid the mess of lumber and plaster, taking care not to slip on the wetness of it all, looking for any clues to what caused the wall to fall.
He was busy about this when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, half expecting Manawyth, ready to glower. It was Saeryn, bearing a tray of drink. He tried to cover his surprise at such a fair sight amid all the tangle and woe both in his mind and before his eyes.
"Take a drink." she ordered Eodwine. "You look fresh from battle and there's no reason for it."
"You're not supposed to be in here," he grated, but took the offered cup and drank, peering at her face over the rim of his cup. The cider tasted good, and the spike of age soothed his nerves. She'd made a good choice. Another mark to the good for her as hostess, though he thought her more as guest than otherwise. "What mean you, no reason?"
Noises of chinking harness and scratching leather came to his ears and he looked to what had been the entrance to the mead hall. Picking their way through the debris were a man and two youths, Rohirric by the look of them.
"Hello there! Best not step any more in this mess, we've had a wall fall over. Saeryn, my hostess, will show you to the makeshift lunch room, though I'm not sure what lunch we have to serve you right now as the kitchen's a battlefield. Oh! I'm Eodwine, keeper of this inn and erstwhile lord of this not so fair mead hall. What are you called?" Eodwine ruefully thought that he sounded in all that rush of words like one busybodied innkeeper of Bree he'd met in his northern travels. Saeryn had not moved, staring at him with quick glances at the newcomers. "Go on, hostess," Eodwine gruffed with a toss of his head, "I'm not fit to be seen and you are. Show these men where to go, and maybe to some clean rooms to get them out of harm's way."
She nodded, though not without a raised brow mixed with pointed look, and began making her way to the three men. Eodwine watched her slim, trousered figure as she seemed effortlessly to wield tray and step surefooted amid the clutter. Another mark to the good, he thought as he watched her greet the guests and lead them back out and around to the makeshift meadhall.
Intro to Eorling Mead Hall rpg