A voice cried out to Ayeth ere she walked out of the heavy oak doors. It was Frodides, the cook. 'Don't you be leaving empty-handed with a father to attend to. Here, take this pot of warm soup and share it with him."
Ayeth stood open-mouthed, unsure of how to accept--or whether to accept--this generosity.
"Don't stand on ceremony. It is a small enough thing. And you can always be tellling your father that you must return the pot to me, so we will be expecting to see you back again, young miss. And give my regards to your Da. He knows me."
Ayeth's face brightened considerably at the easy, kind manner of the woman. Oh that she still had her own mother, as sweet and thoughtful as this woman! She would have hugged Frodides had her shyness not held her back.
"I thankee, Mistress Frodides, with all my heart. I will indeed return your pot, and likely with my Da's good wishes." With that, Ayeth sprang out the door, to return with a more satisfied heart to her father.
And in the Great Hall, plans were being laid.
"Now what would Eodwine be knowin' about clothes for fine Rohirrim lasses?" asked Ruthven mischievously, hoping to lessen some of the sombre mood. "Lass, if the Innkeeper here won't have some clothes left behind by a guest who had more finery than coin, then the Edoras rag lady will."
"Indeed, Gudryn," intoned Bethberry. "Come, check out the back closet with Ruthven to see what we have, before you go to see what stock of clothes she has in her own establishment. You'd be surprised at what clothes the ladies part with when they have need of coin."
"Lad, I am sorry your ill news meant initially an ill welcome, and Saeryn, I am most sorry for your loss. A room will be yours, if you consider leaving some of your possessions behind as a promise of return."
At this point, a stranger strode into the Horse and Bethberry saw she would need to attend to another patron.
"Eodwine, you are all most welcome back this evening to discuss what matters to attend to. And to taste what delicacies Frodides will have prepared." With a wink and a grin at Falco and the twins, the Innkeeper moved on to address the stranger.
He was a grim-looking man, untidy with travels perhaps. Bethberry wondered if his sullen mood reflected a chip on his shoulder, developed in tandem with the ungainly hobble of his walk. She approached him warily but with the usual Innkeeper's welcome for all patrons and wondered what need he had to view the paper which he pushed so quickly back into his pocket. She was, however, too discrete to ask openly about it.
"Stranger, the Innkeeper welcomes you to The White Horse. You arrive early and you see we have had a busy morn with much communal discussion. Yet our kitchen is open to you. Is it light fare you wish, or a substantial meal? Or do you seek some advice or merely directions to our town?"
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