Eorling Mead Hall

[littlemanpoet]

"My thanks to you, Thornden," Eodwine replied. "I want you with me at Scarburg." Eodwine looked around the kitchen. Everybody else who might say something was looking everywhere except at Eodwine. He allowed a sly smile to creep onto his face. They needed time to think, or they wanted to speak with him in private. Very well.

"I will not ask any of you right this moment. Think on it, and speak to me soon. By the end of this day, if you have a mind." He looked down at his now empty plate. "As for me, it seems my food is eaten and I don't remember eating it. Ah well. I shall be roving Edoras parts of today, speaking with folk of the town to see if anyone can point me to a good innkeeper. So I bid you all good day, and eat and work well and to your heart's delight."

With that the Eorl got himself up and left the kitchen, washed himself in his room, dressed as befitting an Eorl of the King, and made his way to the stables. Léof was not there, nor Javan, but Flíthaf was, and the stallion grew excited the moment he saw his master.

"Ah, Flíthaf! It has been too long already since we rode the open plains. Maybe you need a good run before I take you about town for this innkeeper business." He found an old but serviceable apple and raised it to the horse's lips. "How would you like that?" The horse took the apple from Eodwine's hand and tossed his head as he made quick work of the dainty. Eodwine saddled him up and mounted his now frisky stallion, and left the Mead Hall behind as the sun rose into the sky.