[Mithalwen]

Elfthain had probably never worked so hard in his life before as he did unloading the waggons. He had helped with harvest of course and that work was long and hot, scything and gathering from dawn til dusk, but he hadn't done anything so strenuous as lifting full grain sacks in chainmail, the combined heft of which was not far off half his own body weight. And so eager were the locals to have the goods safely in their stores that they set a brisk pace, almost as if they feared that the carts might be driven off yet part laden if they were not swift enough. He was determined to keep up even though his legs threatened to buckle each time he lifted a full sack.

By the time his waggon was unloaded he was almost on his knees and hugely relieved that the unloading of the other carts seemed under control and not in immediate need of his help. He reckoned he could be spared to take care of Safran who had waited patiently amid the chaos. The mare turned her sweet head towards him and whickered softly. Elfthain stood close to her and gently pulled her ears. The sight of her bulging saddlebags had reminded him of something "Sorry Saff, I have one more thing to do and then I will get you sorted" he promised. "I won't be long", He extracted a bulky and heavy oilcloth wrapped parcel from one of the big leather panniers, No point lugging this back from the stables when I am right by the kitchen door he had thought.

He had been inside before of course but not in any state to take in the detail of the environment. Now he noticed several women who seemed to be part of the household, about his mother's age or older he guessed for the most part though there was a younger looking one who was looking rather grimy and damp. Not that Elfthain was in any position to judge. Already less than fragrant after several days travel, his exertions hadn't improved matters. He knew a hot bath would be out of the question but a swill under a pump or a bucket or two from the well would be a start.. even that would have to wait . The women were all busy either with pots on the stove or examining their new stock of provision and even though he didn't really believe Cenric's theories on the unpredictability of women past first youth, he became diffident in the presence of the strangers.

He tapped gently on the doorframe before speaking "Is it alright if I leave these with you?" he enquired entering the kitchen and setting his burden on the table and loosening the wrapping to reveal two large stoneware jars. One of the women raised an eyebrow and asked what he had so he continued, "my mother sent them for the lady of the house - this is leaven, she thought you might not have been able to keep yours going if you had run out of flour ... I have fed it during the journey so it should be alright." At least the antisocial nature of the travellers camp had meant that he had evaded this strange procedure being witnessed. He unstopped the smaller jar and the lump of wet dough was still obviously fermenting."She thought it would let you have bread that bit quicker" he explained. "And this is honey from our own bees. there wasn't much to spare so she said to give it to someone who would know how it would be best used" He didn't unseal this. It had been used sparingly even at home for many months and hadn't been part of the requisition more a personal gift from one household to another made in the knowledge of its value. To smell it would be too tantalising. He tried not to think of it's sweetness let alone the meadows at home where the hives would be set in proximity to the spring flowers and where his colt was no doubt growing sleek on new grass. That jogged his memory again.. "oh and can you tell me where the stables are... I need to see to my horse" ..