[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine held Marenil's signet ring in his hand, knowing full well the implications. This was lordship. Nobility. This man and this young lady were bred to it. Eodwine was not, and knew that he would be a fool to attempt to act in a way uncommon to his learning.

"My thanks, Marenil, for the token as well as the esteem it speaks.

"Mine is a court not yet become what it ought to be, and you grace it beyond its merit. I thank you." The tradition among the Eorlingas was a gift for a gift, and a mead hall lord gives greater than he gets. However, he was new and had little to offer. He thought a moment, rifling in his mind through his meagre possessions.

"Thornden, go to my bed chamber where you will find a small chest at the foot of my bed. Be pleased to bring it here."

Thornden rose and bowed. "Yes, lord." He walked away.

"Thanks also," Eodwine went on, "for your good word of Æðelhild. I will consider what you say and speak with the lass." Eodwine looked for her and did not find her. He noted also that Léof was not with them. Were the two together in the stables? A budding friendship? Maybe more? Stop it, you silly lordling, he said to himself, romance may be breaking out in certain places, cut that means not that every little corner is its nesting spot.

"Ah!" said Linduial cheerfully. "Now that that's over with, and if no one has any more to announce, what's all this Tob and Gwiddle nonsense everyone's so excited about?" She sat back down, acting much more at home than she had just a moment ago during the formal gift giving.

"Tob and Gwiddle?" Eodwine grinned. "Those would be Falco's close personal friends from up by the Shire. Perhaps you could tell us of their plan concerning old Bill Ferny?"

"I would but I need vittles first. It's time for first mid-day meal, sun or no sun to tell the time by. What about food to go with this drink?"

Just then there was a loud thump from beyond the wall to the mead hall. All eyes turned to look at the wall.

"Must have been a chair fell over," Falco commented.

"That was no chair," Eodwine retorted, rising. "More like a wood - oh ... no ... " The wall began to moan and whine, then it started to crack. With the sound of two dozen grief-stricken ghosts, the wall screamed in its death agony as it fell inward - thankfully - and toppled all over the tables, chairs, pulled down hearth, and everything else inside. And the makeshift roof fell inward, all the water that had collected splashing into the rising dust, making a cindery fog and mess of the entire property of the mead hall. Eodwine covered his face and hoped the otheres did as well. He silently hoped the kitchen and rooms remained undamaged.