[littlemanpoet]

Saeryn hopped from bare foot to bare foot before them, smiling winsomely as she invited Eodwine to dance. Of course she made it seem as if she'd take Falco just as happily, but her eyes spent more time on Eodwine. His mouth had gone dry and his fingers slick of a sudden. Her unbraided hair bounced upon her brow and shoulders. The smell of her worked like a potion on him, rendering his restraint limp as a banner without a wind. Thankfully she wore soft breeches and a laced shirt rather than a gown, looking boyish except for her hair. It would have been too much otherwise.

Eodwine coughed. To buy time he said, "Falco, I think she means you."

"As like use a pony as your warhorse!" retorted Falco. "You dance with her, and be quick before the song quits!"

So much for buying time. Eodwine drained his cup, peering over the rim of his mug at her with a heated eye. He slammed the mug to table, rose, and wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he offered her his hand.

"I will show you how to dance, lady! See if you can keep pace with me!" She placed her hand in his and he grabbed her other hand. "Sash right!" he cried, and began spinning her round him, making a little vortex between them with the sudden speed of their steps. She was grinning. "Arm right!" He dropped both hands and took her right elbow with his right, and spun her the new way, keeping time with each step.

A pipe began to play above the harp, decorating the melody with trills and flourishes. Æðelhild. Eodwine grinned. Falco was clapping, a smirk on the other side of his puffing pipe.

"Arm left!" They dropped arms and locked left elbows, skipping the opposite way.

Someone had started beating a drum; Eodwine looked. Garreth, grinning, was beating the nearest table with his fists. A makeshift cymbal started up, Harreld beating a plate with a wooden spoon.

"Join the dance!" Eodwine shouted. "Keep it up, Manawyth my minstrel!"