Eodwine and Falco
"Gentlemen."
Eodwine caught the amusement in the lady Saeryn's voice, evident also in her twinkling eye. Ah, if only he were young again. Like that boy who had stepped closer and closer to their table as the three of them talked. Eodwine had smiled at the boy, and had been getting ready to speak to him when he had been called away. Ah, to be a boy again, with all the dreams and joys still lying ahead of you. Sorrow was all in the future. He sighed and turned his thought to the present.
"Lady," Eodwine bowed, "we dishonor you with our bickering. Forgive us."
"I am curious," Falco Boffin said to Eodwine, standing on his chair to get a better look at the lady's garb, "is it common for Rohirric women to wear breeches?" He spoke a little too loudly and was overheard by Saeryn, who colored slightly.
"Fairly," Eodwine said. "Rohirric women who ride horses wear them. And our shieldmaidens do as well. The Lady Eowyn is somewhat responsible for it, I daresay."
"What? How's that?" Falco asked.
"Have you not heard the tale of how the Lady Eowyn defeated the Dark Lord's Lieutenant during the War?"
"Yes, I heard it, from the Master of Buckland hisself, who had a part in the deed too, I ask you to remember. But women's wearing of breeches started with that?"
"I do not think so, but it gained acceptance at court and in town; that much I can say."
"I for one am glad of it," Saeryn announced with enthusiasm.
"I am curious about another thing," Eodwine said. "Your brother is not with you. What has become of him?"
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