[littlemanpoet]

Saeryn was taking a while to decide. It was only fair that Eodwine should give her the time she needed, seeing as he'd sprung this on her like a jester-in-the-box. It was no jest and she knew it. The crowd was whispering. Eodwine kept his eyes on Saeryn, not changing the hopeful but not too hopeful smile on his face.

She was taking a long time to decide, but her eyes did not leave his. She was thinking it through. Eodwine resisted the urge to shift his wait. Whispers skittered among the crowd like leaves on a swirling wind.

What if she said 'no'? He fought to maintain his hopeful expression. I would be crushed! He was stunned, but forced himself not to show it. Had she come to mean that much to him? How could it be, she less than half his age? 'Robbing the cradle', they would say, or worse. He had a following question in case she refused: Will you consent, then, to remain my guest and hostess, and ward under my sworn protection until fate takes you elsewhere?' He did not want her to leave, nor to feel as if she should.

Her face began to brighten. Eodwine's pulse raced. She began to smile. She opened her mouth and said 'yes', with a curtsy and words becoming of her station. Eodwine could not help the smile that broadened his face, but he kept himself otherwise in strict control; though he wanted to crush her to him. He bowed to her curtsy.

There were two bronze chains around his neck, one thick and one slim. The thick one had five keys on it, the slim had four. He doffed the slim chain and passed it over Saeryn's head, and draped it over her shoulders. She fingered the keys, which fell to her breastbone, and wore a contented smile.

"As Lady of the Eorling Mead Hall, Saeryn," Eodwine announced, "you have the keys to door, larder, safe, and cellar."

Eodwine turned then to Thornden and nodded in a prearranged sign. Thornden nodded back, then moved Eodwine's chair so that it took up the left half of the dais (as the audience viewed it). Thornden placed a second fur-lined chair next to it.

"As Lady of this Hall, Saeryn, you have authority over all matters of hearth and home, and you have my ear for counsel in all matters concerning my court."

"Is this a betrothal then!? (Ouch! don't hit me!)" shouted somebody from the crowd. The voice sounded familiar to Eodwine but he couldn't place it, nor could he see the speaker. He felt his face redden, and Saeryn's cheeks became pink also though she held her peace. No one else spoke, but every eye was on either Eodwine or Saeryn, waiting for his reply.

"If this were a betrothal, I would have said so," Eodwine said with a slight frown. "Call it an apprenticeship, for it fills a need of mine in this Hall, since I have no family - yet."

"Is it courting then!" asked the same speaker, who quickly followed with "stop hitting me, Harreld!" This time Eodwine saw the speaker. He should have known: it was Garreth the Smith. Eodwine allowed a half smile.

"Garreth, you ever were too loose with your tongue."

"And you, lord Eodwine, were ever saying half as much as you meant!"

Laughter. Eodwine joined in, and Saeryn smiled.

"So is this a-courting?" Garreth asked a second time.

Eodwine did not answer right away. He was generally a careful man, though bold when he chose to be. Something in him - maybe the prospect of Saeryn's youth so much a part of his life - broke back to ogre-may-care, and he decided to go with his gut.

"I will not say," Eodwine began slowly, "that it is not." The crowd erupted in a jumble of noiisy speculation. Eodwine looked to Saeryn, whose eyes had gone wide again. He half expected her to rip the chain of keys from her neck and angrily throw them at him. But she simply stared, open mouthed. He waited to see what she would do or say.