The White Horse Inn, Act III

[Umwë]

"Wha' ques'ion?" Eodwine asked.

"H-how long have you b-been here?" Umwë supplied.

"Jus' t'day! I came in wi' the dawn from the Gap of Rohan. An' you, Umdilay?"

"Umwë," the Elf corrected politely.

"Ssssorry."

"No problem." Umwë said and bowed. He took another gulp of his ale. Eodwine seemed fuzzy and quite drunk. Umwë glanced at Eodwine's ale. I wonder how many he has been drinking today, he thought and his gaze turned to a person, who he believed was a man, that entered and sat down beside them.

Suddenly he started to sing, and Umwë sat as he was enchanted by the song. His eyes became glassy and he drew a deep sigh.

There is an inn, a merry old inn
beneath an old gray hill,
and there they brew a beer so brown
That the Man in the Moon himself came down
one night to drink his fill.

The ostler has a tipsy cat
that plays afive-stringed fiddle;
And up and down he runs his bow,
Now squeaking high, now purring low,
now sawing in the middle.

The landlord keeps a little dog
that is mighty fond of jokes;
When there's good cheer among the guests,
He cocks an ear at all the jests
and laughs until he chokes.

They also keep a horned cow
as proud as any queen;
But music turns her head like ale,
And makes her wave her tufted tail
and dance upon the green.

And O! the rows of silver dishes
and the store of silver spoons!
For Sunday there's a special pair,
and these they polish up with care
on Saturday afternoons.

The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
and the cat began to wail;
a dish and a spoon on the table danced,
The cow in the garden madly pranced,
and the little dog chased his tail.

The Man in the Moon took another mug,
and then rolled beneath his chair;
and there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
Till in the sky the stars were pale,
and dawn was in the air.

Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:
'The white horses of the Moon,
They neigh and champ their silver bits;
But their master's been and drowned his wits,
and the Sun'll be rising soon!'

So the cat on his fiddle played hey-didle-diddle,
a jig that would rouse the dead:
He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune,
While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
'It's after three!" He said.

They rolled the Man slowly up the hill,
and bundled him into the Moon,
While his horses galloped up in rear,
And the cow came capering like a deer,
and a dish ran up with the spoon.

Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
the dog began to roar,
The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
The guests all bounded from their beds
and danced upon the floor.

With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke!
the cow jumped over the Moon,
And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
And the Saturday dish went off at a run
with the silver Sunday spoon.

The round moon rolled behind the hill
as the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
For though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed!

"Bravo!" Umwë exclaimed and clapped his hands. He felt even more joy now and the ale tasted really good.

"I am Umwë" Umwë said to the man and bowed with a smile.

"Korik is my name!" Korik replied with a smile.

"The song was beautiful! It reminds of the glorious days I have been spending in Lórien." Umwë said.

"It glads me that you enjoyed it." Korik said softly.

All the happy memories came back to Umwë. and for once, it wasn't sadness that he felt when he got reminded of Lórien. He actually felt happy and thankful for all the good days.

"By the way Eodwine. I came this morning, so not even a day have I spent here yet. But I look forward at a long and happy stay, as my company so far has been most pleasant!" He grinned to them all and raised his mug of ale and said with a smile "Cheers for all the happy moments life has to offer!"

"Cheers!" the others said in agreement and raised their mugs of ale.

Umwë now turned to the new person that had joined them, Korik. "So you have just arrived, friend Korik?" Umwë asked and awaited his reply.

[Bêthberry]

Light from lanterns and candles and fireplaces flickered out from the latticed windows of The White Horse and illuminated patches of the ground almost in time to the music that emanated from the Horse. Cheers and voices and laughter competed with the sounds of flute and harp as well. Bethberry could almost imagine the sign of the Horse swaying in time with the entertainment. She could not see any sign of the nightwatchman she and Aylwen had hired, but for the time being she satisfied herself with the thought that Osric could well be making his rounds on the other side of the Inn. She stabled her horse quickly and quietly, the ostler himself likely having dinner with his family or seeing the bairns to bed.

Lifting the heavy iron latch, Bethberry swung the front door open and stepped inside, her eyes temporarily blinded by the light and her senses overcome by the heady aromas and warm air of the inn. No one had as yet caught sight of her, so she quietly strode in, leaving her bags near the front desk, by her old room which now was Aywlen's room. Maercwen caught sight of her and nearly called aloud, but Bethberry, with a grin, but her finger to her lips and cautioned silence. She gave the girl a hug and whispered to her that it was good to be back and then walked calmly into the Great Hall with a tankard in her hand.

"What's this covering of the same song over and over?" she asked with mock sterness, as she caught the eye of new bards. The older children ran to her, crying out her name and jumping up on her nearly as if she was a tree to climb.

"Hold your horse, Deman and Fierlan," she laughed as she gave each a tight hug and a ruffling of their hair. "It's a good thing I at least am still steady on my feet."

Osric the old warrior harrumped at this and attempted to rise to welcome her whereas Lianda, Umwë, Eodwine and Korik seemed to reel around each other and stared at her blinkingly. It could not be denied that the sound of a belch or two punctuated the welcome.

[littlemanpoet]

"'Tis time I got these sodden legs into a bed. I think that they will not prop me up long enough to find my rooms."

As if to prove himself right, Eodwine rose from his stool and immediately slid to the floor, bumping his ale cup on the counter, its contents sloshing out and giving him a much needed shower, albeit of a too sticky liquid for proper cleansing.

"Ah me, maybe I should just sleep here."

"Nonsense," Korik said. "Umwë, please give me a hand with Master Eodwine."

"I bid you all a good night, my friends, and may the morrow find you in fine fettle and good spirits under a shining sun."

Korik and Umwë each took Eodwine by an arm, and hobbled him to his rooms. When they came back Korik said that the poor man was snoring between them before they laid him down.

[Bêthberry]

OOC

Writers of the Mark, please take a look at Fordim Hedgethistle's new game, Shadow of the West.

It is a game of intrigue set in the Second Age and exploring the creation of the Nazgul.

Come join the fun!

Bethberry

[Bêthberry]

It was a chilly and grey day, the sky full of scudding clouds that looked blue with cold. The ground was crisp and frozen, even now, in mid-afternoon. Edoras was settling into an early winter.

The White Horse Inn creaked and groaned as its timbers rocked to the wind and the shutters bumbled up against the window frames. Mid-afternoon was always quiet at the Inn, for its patrons and guests were usually all busy completing their daily chores and tasks, but today especially people seemed to have chosen to stay indoors and not risk the inclement weather. For now the Horse was empty save for the staff.

Both fireplaces were lit, casting wide heat into the Great Hall and the smaller room, the word hoard. Candles and lanterns were not yet lit, although the darkening sky suggested they soon would be. Instead of summer flowers, the scent of pine and cedar boughs wafted through the main floor, followed by the rich aromas of stews and fresh breads in the kitchen. The only colour in the assorted bouquets came from the brilliant red stalks of sumach flowers and the intense red of hyerpicum and holly berries and rosehips.

The Innkeeper walked down the main stairwell into the main hall, having checked that all rooms were cleaned and had fires prepared should guests wish a warm room that night. She stopped by her desk near the huge oak front doors, checked her quill pens and sharpened some. She peeked quickly into the kitchen, but wished not to disturb the staff, so she did not stay to talk. Wrapping her old somewhat worn brown shawl around her shoulders, she picked up a book and carried it to the book hoard, where she curled up in a chair by the fire.

Would she nod off as the warmth spread through her bones or would she stay alert as the sounds of patrons soon came to be heard? Time would tell...

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

As she rode in sight of the Inn, Saeryn sighed quietly. The damp wind picked its way about the young woman as her hood fought in vain to stay put. Tendrils of auburn hair escaped their pins to dance before her tired eyes. Impatiently she brushed them aside and rode on, her usually feisty mare as exhausted as Saeryn herself.

"Almost, Dawndancer, just some further..." she crooned to her companion. At the sound of her mistress's voice, the mare perked up. Food and drink awaited them both; the finest in Rohan by all accounts. Saeryn allowed herself to melt away into dreams of hearty stews and mugs of something hot and spiced before dismounting and leading her horse to the stables.

With a generous tip to the stablehands as well as a final caress of her horse, Saeryn entered the Inn. Finding the room deserted, but for a drowsy face near the fire, she made her way over, leaving the threshold behind. "Madam," she spoke tiredly, "Could you please help me? I would be forever in your debt if you could help me find a room for the night, a hot bath, and something generally nourishing for me to eat." Saeryn pulled off her travel-stained cloak, revealing equally functional breeches and a man's shirt beneath. It is good, she thought, to have finally made it to The White Horse.

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry had been drawn out of her revery by the tread of light feet upon the long pine planks of the Horse's flooring. And what to her surprise did she see but a young woman, travel-weary but most sensible, asking for warmth of room and food. Her large cloak was muddied and spoke of many days of travel. I wonder what brings her here, thought Bethberry to herself.

"Welcome, stranger. I am the Innkeeper, Bethberry, so you've made your request to the right person. I can indeed offer you a cosy room with bath and a feather bed if you want more than a straw mattress and a dinner that will warm you where the water won't reach. I've just seen to the rooms and know we have logs prepared; a fire can be lit at a time of your choosing, now or after you have eaten."

"I'll eat first, if I may," the woman replied, without giving her name.

"As you wish," replied the older woman, somewhat intrigued that the younger had withheld her name. "Do you have any particular preferences or shall I simply ask the cook to prepare a tray of hot ragout and steaming vegetables, with hearty tart to finish it off?"

"That will do. And do you have hot cider?"

"Now, would we be a respectable Inn if we didn't?" retorted Bethberry, but with a gleem in her eye.

"Somehow I doubted The White Horse would have a limited choice of beverage or food."

"Did you now? And how pray tell do you know of the Horse?"