The White Horse Inn, Act III

[Esgallhugwen]

Gudryn

Lady Ruthven had given Gudryn a brush that morning to comb out her tangles, she was thankful for now she did not seem so petty in front of these strangers.

A shawl was draped around her to cover up her rags, the women still couldn't find anything that fitted her properly, especially with her long legs and thin build. Everyone was chatting away happily while she remained still and quiet trying to take it all in.

"I would hear more of Gudryn's tale, if she feels strengthend enough," Falco said, puffing on his pipe.

"One thing she has said," Eodwine put in, "if I may share it, miss?" Gudryn nodded once, her auburn hair cast down around her freckled face. "There is a ruffian who bears the name, Rand, and he has used the girl ill. She has run from him and has sought the safety of this inn."

"I - I fear this inn is not enough safety against him, sirs," the girl said softly raising her head slightly. "He is bigger than all of you.... and ... I fear for you if he comes here."

The men sat up straighter in their chairs. "Who is this scoundrel?" Garreth asked.

Gudryn looked to the one twin with momentary apprehension, but she saw the sincerity in his eyes. "Sirs, I must confess to you that I have no memory of my parents for it has more than likely been beaten out of me, whether they died or abandoned me I will never know. And that is how Rand came by me, though I know not why he took me in", she sighed and a shudder went up her back as she tried to suppress a cough.

"Why Lady... please don't be afraid. With all of these swords to guard you, as well as the Inns security (which I am assured is quite good), I am sure it will all turn out."

She smiled at Saeryn despite her uncertainty, their words are noble but his rage stronger and if he finds me here....

"Well said, Lady Saeryn!" cried Harreld as the others nodded in agreement, "I'm no lady, Master Harreld... just a lass out for a bit of an adventure." Gudryn noticed the behaviour of the younger girl and of Saeryn but said nothing as they walked out of the room, she stayed with the men.

It was decided that because the day was still young and Gudryn was not yet strong enough that dark tales should be saved till later. So Eodwine spoke up th break the silence.

"Ah, so a story," he though aloud, stroking his chin for emphasis. "Ah, yes.. T'was naught but a few months past, I was walking down a bubbling brook...".

[littlemanpoet]

"Ah, yes.. T'was naught but a few months past, I was walking down a bubbling brook... well, not walking, but trotting, for I was on horse. So there I was, in the foothills of Lebennin .... well, not a few months past, but just a couple weeks ago, as a matter of fact...."

Eodwine paused and looked from face to face a moment to gauge their interest; they were still listening with due patience.

"The brook moved quickly down the steep hill I trotted down ... well, it wasn't really Lebennin, come to think of it, but somewhat west of the Gap of Rohan, truth be told. At any rate, there I was, meandering along with the stream, when out jumped a .... well, nothing really jumped out, exactly, but the wind did pick up and blew a stick in front of Flithaf's nose and started him, and he shivered."

Eodwine stopped. Falco was puffing on his pipe, watching Eodwine with raised brows, looking none too trusting for some reason.

"Well, shivered isn't the right way to put it, not really."

Eodwine picked up his rather heavy looking cup of drink, which he wished had more hop in it, and took a sip, peeking over the brim at his listeners. Harreld was drumming his fingers on the table, a longsuffering expression on his face.

"He bucked me clean off."

"That's more like it," Falco said around his pipe.

"I fell head first into a puddle. Well, not-"

"Oh no you don't!" Garreth said. "You said puddle, so a puddle it is!"

"Well, so be it then," Eodwine smirked. "I fell head first into a two foot deep puddle."

"No puddle can be two foot deep," Garreth protested. "That has to be a .... um, what would you call it?" He looked to Harreld.

"Do not ask me! You were the one said it had to be a puddle!"

"Well, how wide was it?" Hama asked. "Five foot about?"

"Nay," said Falco. "Big enough to hold him toe to curls, and then some."

"Trough, then." offered Garreth.

"Pond," Harreld raised the ante.

"Muck hole," Hama grinned.

"Hog wallow," Falco grinned.

"Nothing of the kind!" Eodwine protested.

"It would have been had any hogs been there."

"And they were not, so no more about hogs. Pool it was, or pondlet, if you must."

"Pondlet it is," said Garreth, and he was ayed around the table.

Eodwine took the moment to wink at Gudryn, whose eyes bounced back from speaker to speaker trying to keep up with the badinage. She smiled back at him.

"Anyway, so there I was in the pondlet, and this halfling happened by at just that moment, and threw me a rope, as if I needed it."

"You was half drownded." Falco insisted.

"Nothing of the kind. I stayed put so you could feel useful."

"Nonsense!"

The two girls, Saeryn and Ayeth, walked back in the room, curious expressions on their faces over what they had missed.

[Bêthberry]

Ruthven cackled gruffly and the manner of her laughter surprised the young girl Gudryn.

"Heh," the old woman said, "Ye'd best never call me lady, as around these parts the rag dealer don't warrant much respect, unless it is to scrabble up some spare cash in a deal with her. But I thank 'e for your regard and won't hold it against ye."

The girls were aghast. What! Would the title of Lady carry something disrespectful? Of poor repute? Ruthven caught the nature of their thoughts in their faces.

"'Tis not all who hanker after the manner of ladyships, young lasses. Why, there's much howdy doing and sweeping things under the table to being a lady. And much putting on airs and fine manners that don't do justice to some of the more honourable folks who don't pretend." Ruthven nodded and pulled out a corncob pipe, tapping it against the table and knocking the dead ash out onto her emptied plate.

"W-wh-why, isn't it the finest thing to be a lady?" Ayeth asked.

Saeryn spoke up, perhaps a tad too quickly for her own interests in keeping her story a secret. "There's limits and lost opportunity to being a lady."

The twins stared at her for this comment while Eodwine calmly raised his eyebrow as a way of marking his interest. Falco was so surprised that he let his pipe go out.

"They's full of what you might say is mucky pride, a watered down thing from the real one, perhaps like the muck which yon Falco saved Eodwine from. My apologies, lads, I dinna mean to interrupt your story. Go on wi' it."

Behind everyone's shoulder the Innkeeper appeared, her feet having moved with the calm, quiet grace she was known for. "Aye indeed, there's ladies and then there's ladies. You can ask Ruthven for her stories of some later, but for now I wish to hear the conclusion of sorts which I'm sure Eodwine has for us." She took a seat beside the twins with a slight nod.

Ruthven, having tamped down some tobbacy in her pipe, had calmly lit it, blowing small puffs of smoke over the table, and then offerred to relight Falco's dead embers. The lasses would have stared at her, for they had never seen a woman smoke before, but they were too polite and embarassed now over what fine manners might or might not be, to say anything.

"We've three now who've missed the fabulous tale of the pondlet or the hollow and the miraculous aid and marvellous rise of the noble Messenger, Ayeth, Saeryn and Bethberry," she intoned between puffs, " Eodwine, bring them up to date on your tale. "

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Berating herself silently, Saeryn grinned widely at the group. "Ruthven has it exactly. Have ye never had to serve under an infuriating lord or lady whose only importance is what they seem to believe they deserve?"

"Aye," added Hama. "You'd be surprised at how many high-rankers don't have the constitution for the job."

"Indeed... being of high rank is a job and a half... from what I've heard." Saeryn blushed faintly. The group looked at her curiously, but as she continued to make no move to speak, they politely pretended not to notice the girl's curious reactions to the mentions of nobility. "You cannot simply live the life without paying the price... nobles ought be spending time with commoners to learn what they really need, as opposed to taxing them to pay for a silken dress."

"I'll drink to that!" came a cheerful voice from the door. The table's occupants glanced over to the unfamiliar face. A handsome man of medium height, his broad shoulders carried a sense of inborn power that tended to make impressionable young girls swoon. A light dusting of freckles covered his flushed cheeks. The young man's hazel eyes swept the room, coming to rest upon the only occupant trying valiantly to pretend he was not there.

Ruthven cackled to herself, seeing Saeryn's discomfort. "Ay, m'girl, now there be another handsome young lad. Shall I claim him, or would ye like him yerself?"

Forcing herself to meet the young man's eyes, identical to her own down to the most insignificant fleck, Saeryn's face went dead white. Struggling from the bench, she fled the Great Hall, barely managing to keep the contents of her stomach where they belonged.

"Saeryn!" he called, much alarmed. Trying to follow, he was stopped as the men of the table stood, blocking his way.

Eodwine stepped forward, anger and worry lining his face. "I do not know who you are, or what your business is, but ye've obviously upset the girl, and ye'd better not be thinking of following."

The man made to move around him, intent on going to Saeryn. The twins stepped forward, flanking him. Eodwine spoke quietly. "Do not even try."

[littlemanpoet]

The youth looked Eodwine over with a somewhat haughtier look than expected.

"Who is it that suggests threats against one of the Helmingas?"

Eodwine raised a brow. "We have only your word of that. Your garb, gear, and actions say you are not of such noble lineage."

"Even so, I am." The youth looked Eodwine up and down. "You have not yet answered my question. Who are you?"

"He talks like one of such lineage," Garreth said, "I'll give 'im that."

The youth flicked Garreth a glance and stood, feet well apart, facing Eodwine.

"Very well. I am Eodwine of the Gap, messenger of King Eomer. The girl you chased is a friend of mine. You still must name yourself and answer for your rashness before I show you the respect due your claim."

The youth lifted his chin so he could look down his nose at the taller Rohirrim. "I am Dégas of the Folde, and you stand between me and my twin sister."

"What!" Eodwine in surprise.

Falco strolled in front of Eodwine and looked up at Dégas, measuringly, as he puffed on his pipe. With a disgusted grimace, Dégas waved at the smoke assaulting his nostrils.

Falco took the pipe from his mouth and said, "You still haven't proved nothing but that you can make big claims. Show us who you are and maybe we'll be kind, and then only if the lady Saeryn says so. What say you?"

"Aye," Harreld grated. "What say you to that?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Dégas looked daggers at the men in front of him. He had travelled many miles from Minas Tirith in search of his twin. There was news she had to hear, and only from he would it be received. With the most incredible amount of luck, the young man had found her by chance, walking into an Inn in time to hear her voice. Glaring at Eodwine, he reached for his sword.

"Ah lad, you'd not be wanting to take on us all would ye?" Eodwine warned him.

"Bite your tongue man. You asked for proof, I give it freely, though for what reason my noble sister should be accounted your friend I may never know." Dégas drew his blade, flipping it deftly and handing it to Eodwine hilt first. "You have my blade. If you look to the hilt, you will notice, if you are truly my lady sister's friend, that hers is of identical make. You will also please to notice, sir, that you are now armed and I am not. Would one desiring to inflict harm pass over his only weapon of defense so freely?"

Stepping from behind, Ruthven grabbed the sword from Eodwine's hands, running knarled fingers along the flat, running ancient eyes along it's length. "'Tis the same all right, as I well saw last night." Dégas' eyes widened. He had helped his sister escape their brother... for her to come to be in an Inn at a table with people she barely knew? Where was her sense of propriety? He knew of her love of the common man, but he had always thought of it more as a theoretical love.

"Do I have your trust?" he asked shortly.

"No." Dégas' eyes flashed with impatient anger. Eodwine continued. "Lad, for all that you look like the lady, why would she run from her twin, if that be what you really are?"

"Sirs, ladies," he bowed. "It is of the utmost importance that I see my sister. If you refuse to allow me to see my own kin... I beg you to bring her to me."

[Bêthberry]

"Gentleman and good people all," intoned a voice clear with dignity and command, though not with noble hauteur. It was the Innkeeper. Bethberry stepped forward.

Dégas, if you will, please respect the rules of this Inn. It is a noble Inn with the longest and finest history in Edoras. You prove yourself honourable by passing on your sword, but do not think you can march in here and make demands upon the patrons. Or on myself."

"Who are you, woman?" asked the young man.

Eodwine's eyes flashed at the insolence and the twins rose in anger, sputtering, and Falco, why, he harummpffed in his best manner.

Bethberry raised her hand to her friends and looked the young man squarely in the face.

"Who am I indeed. It is a good question. One that many here could not answer. Yet they judge me and accept me on my manners and behaviour to them, and not by my history. I bid you show us similar courtesy."

"I beg your pardon, Madam. Where is the Innkeeper?" replied the boy, stung but not giving way his ground of self assurance.

"Where is she indeed," Bethberry remarked with a smile. "Perhaps you will sit down and show your good intentions by being a good patron of this inn. Order some ale or mead or warm drink, even a plate to fill your belly, and make the efforts of the staff here worthwhile. Give them your coin that they may go home this evening with reward for their labours. And perhaps then you will find a friendlier response to your concerns."

At which point Ruthven caught Bethberry's eye, nodded, and then wispered to Ayeth and Gudryn, "Let Saeryn know that she is not forced to make an appearance unless she wishes it under the auspices of the Innkeeper."