The sound of cheering soon reached those at the Inn. Maercwen straightened up, her heart beating quickly, and she returned to Aylwen, an unvoiced question in her eyes. The Innkeeper hesitated only briefly before she smiled and nodded. Maercwen gestured wildly to her uncle, who was sitting by Osric, and flew out the door on light feet.
Not far from the door to the Inn was the crowd gathered about Hearpwine and an older bard. Maercwen pushed through the swarms of people with as much courtesy as could be allowed until she reached Hearpwine. Liornung shook his head at her pushing and shoving and with experienced ease slipped in between and under people, chuckling as he thought of the time he had helped Frodides through a crowd just as thick.
Tears were flowing from Hearpwine's eyes and down his face, tears of great joy. No doubt he had become Bard of the King, yet... this older bard wore the mantle that came with the title. Maercwen pulled at Hearpwine's sleeve until he turned to her, and a smile came to his face. She gazed up at him in puzzlement. "Hearpwine, are you Bard of the King?" she questioned, doubt apparent in her voice.
He shook his head but continued to smile. "Nay, Mae, the Bard of the King is Eorcyn, and well he deserved it."
"Then why your tears of joy?" She stopped and looked him up and down and her cheeks became a trifle pale though it was just barely visible that she had lost color. "Why do you wear the colors of the Lady?"
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