Eorling Mead Hall

[littlemanpoet]

"Because I can."

She did not take her eyes away from his. He frowned, befuddled. That was no answer, and she knew it. His first thought was to say to himself, Women! and all then to latch onto that all the cantankerous nonsense that went with such a single worded casting of blame in the face of doubt. Her eyes, which he had not taken his own from, were tired. She sneezed again, but brought her eyes back to his.

A sudden linking of thoughts came to him. She knew she was working too hard, but did so anyway. What drive could there be for her, who so loved to play, to work so hard? It must be his oath. What else could it be?

"If you are working overhard because I swore to guard you against your older brother, you're being foolish. I need not your payment in overwork. You are of greater worth to yourself, and to me, sound of mind and body. If that be the why of it, set aside your washrag and bucket and come upstairs with me."

[JennyHallu]

Linduial smiled sunnily at Garstan and held out a slim white hand to Lèoðern, who moved to take it with an excited wriggle and half-jump. "We promise to return her in one piece!" she assured the anxious father over her shoulder, as she swept out into the courtyard and then to the street, Lèoðern skipping alongside her, and Degas following.


The annual Horse Fair in Edoras was a huge affair. The streets were filled with people and vendors, and this was merely the beginning. Most of the booths and all the horses and events were set up on the grassy sward outside the city, and it was there that Linduial led her merry little company. Lèoðern soon gave up on moving blindly through the dense-packed crowds of tall adults and rode high on Degas' strong shoulders, where she could see the layout of the fair and catch glimpses of what was going on all around them. Lin's obvious royal bearing had an almost magical effect on the crowd, melting people away so the laughing, happy trio walked almost unimpeded where'er Lèoðern directed.

Lèoðern's joy and excitement was infectious, and both Degas and Lin found it easier than they had expected to push their flirtation and attraction aside for a while, talking and laughing like old companions, and no more or less than friends. Lin still, however, found herself almost preternaturally aware of Degas' presence, and took pleased note of his tireless strength and patience, as well as the myriad of small kindnesses and shared jokes with the little girl bouncing up and down on his shoulder-blades. She masked her fascination with gaiety, and the three found a frank and often funny conversation about their various siblings to be a safe and welcome topic.

With many interruptions to stop and enjoy the performances of various buskers, dancers, storytellers, and acrobats, the three made their way slowly but surely to an area that seemed (from Lèoðern's skyline viewpoint) to be mostly populated with finer merchants, calling out their wares from well-kept colorful tents. As soon as they managed to get there, they set happily to looking through the goods, staying together, and pointing out to each other whatever rare, pretty, or well-made items caught their eye. Linduial, with a wink and a gesture for secrecy, pressed into Lèoðern's hot little hands ten copper pennies. Lin remembered well from her own childhood how dull it could be to go along on adult buying trips without the means to pick things out too.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"If that be the why of it, set aside your washrag and bucket and come upstairs with me."

Eodwine looked at her in confused wonder, waiting for her answer, hoping it would reveal more of her hidden thought.

"That, I suppose, is some of it." She spoke slowly, gathering her thoughts, careful to let nothing slip. Men! She allowed herself to think it for a moment. They never understand that some actions are not based upon logic. She frowned at the thought and ignored it. She respected Eodwine far too much to label him so half-heartedly, and understood her own work too little to think about it too critically. She knew that logic was missing in one of those thoughts, but Eodwine seemed to require one of two things... a legitimate reason as to why she should be left working, or an accompaniment away from it. Perhaps, she thought, if she left off working for a time, he would leave off questions that she could not answer.

"What awaits me upstairs?" she added tiredly.

[Undómë]

Away -- Wistan's farm - Dunstede

Rose came round the corner of the hall, pushing the long fine veil of netting away from her face, letting it hang down her back. Her leather gloves were stuck in her belt and she’d taken the ties off from round the wrists of her long sleeved tunic. As well, she had loosed those from her ankles that tied the cuffs of her breeches securely to her boots. She learned long ago that bees were very good at finding an opportunity to sting whoever bothered them. She damped down the little smoker-can she carried and set it down for later use on one of the benches at the end of the hall.

Her cheeks were red from the recent confinement beneath the veil; her brow damp with sweat. She swiped at it with her forearm, pushing the stray hairs plastered there back from her face as she did so. Her hair she’d done up in a twist at the nape of her neck was now undone, and the long dark gold tresses cascaded down her back to her waist.

She heard voices, not too far away. Her mother’s . . . and one other she could not place. A man’s . . . Rose hurried down the length of the hall and found her mother with a look of puzzlement on her face, staring up at a young man. From what she could see, the fellow did not look menacing, but she didn’t like the fact that her mother was alone with him.

‘Sir!’ she called out to him, as she drew near the two.

Cwen’s face brightened at the sight of her daughter. ‘Well, here’s my Rose!’ she said smiling. ‘She’ll get this all sorted out for you.’ She grasped her daughter’s hand and patted it affectionately.

Rose listened as her mother explained how she’d thought this fellow was the one come for the yearling pig . . . but he wasn’t . . . he was someone else altogether . . . not that she knew his name . . . he hadn’t told her yet, or if he had she didn’t recall it . . . but it was something about Lord Eodwine . . . and who was that, dear? . . . and he was needing coin for something as was due but not really yet.

‘Perhaps our guest would like a little refreshment, mother-mine. Why don’t you go back to the hall and set some of the lemon-balm to brewing. And the new crock of honey we gathered yesterday. We will be in directly.’ She watched with a fond look on her face as her mother picked her way back to the hall. Then turning back to the stranger, Rose narrowed her eyes, looking at him in a considering way.

‘You have the advantage of me. I do not know your name, sir.’ She paused for a moment, her brow furrowing. ‘And from the new lord, too? Is that so?’ She held out her hand expectantly toward him. ‘Might I see your papers of authority to transact his business for him?’

[Lalwendë]

The lads had been left alone for a while as Larswic was dealing with one of his 'regulars', a fair haired man who wore a good, but plain cloak and who laughed heartily at Larswic's jokes. He was after buying one of Larswic's good ploughing horses, but of course, before the deal could be done, there was a lot of banter to be covered. The two men talked of horse races, other dealers and breeders and then got onto matters of tax and dues. The boys soon started yawning once the interesting talk about who was up to what had been covered and the men fell to discussing Eorls and what they demanded.

Larswic had sent them off, irritated by their loafing about while he talked. Wultheof went to find some more bread and water as his head was still sore and his mouth dry after the last night's ale. He took it into a quiet corner of the Mead Hall and after he had finished eating, dozed off for a while.

He woke up feeling a little better and wandered back towards the stables. His father was nowhere to be seen, and he guessed he might be out with his customer trotting the horse before completing the deal. But he could not see Leocsley anywhere, and wandered around the courtyard bellowing his name, squinting in the sunshine. His head was now not so sore, but he felt groggy after his nap and he was not in the mood to have to go searching for his cousin.

Finally he went around to the back of the stables where a patch of land was bounded by a fence; on the other side was one of the many wooden houses of Edoras. From the other side of the fence he could hear Leocsley's laughter, and the sound of a girl giggling. He stomped over to see what was going on, and found Leocsley aiming his bow at a crude target scratched into the wooden wall of a storehouse. A girl of their age, tall and fair haired, stood by watching him.

"Who's this then? Your fair maiden?" said Wultheof with a sneer. Leocsley spun round, with an arrow still ready in his hand. Wultheof ducked down again behind the fence. "Fool! Put that thing down!"

"I'm just showing her how to use a bow is all," said Leocsley, going red in the face. He liked the girl, she was funny, and he wanted to show her how good he was at this. It was important to him that even girls knew what a good archer he already was, though he didn't quite know why he cared if girls noticed his skills.

"Wait til I tell my father you've been slacking off and playing bows 'n' arrows with lasses!"

"Tell him what?" said the girl, sticking out her tongue at Wultheof. "That you've been snoring away all morning while your cousin has been practising with his bow?"

Wultheof was taken aback by the girl's words, and she stared at him until he felt uncomfortable and he turned away. He stomped back towards the Mead Hall, kicking a stone as he went. He hated how all the lasses seemed to like Leocsley and ignored him. "Still", he thought, "they're only stupid girls." At that moment his father reappeared, alone and without the horse. He had a wide smile on his face.

"A good deal there, my lad," he said. "That's a man you can do business with. he knows who has the best horses, and he doesn't shirk from paying what they are worth, neither. How's about I treat you lads to a look round the Horse Fair itself? Where's Leocsley?"

[Celuien]

Lèoðern sailed over the heads of the folk assembled at the Fair. It was so very, very delightful to be there. Just when she passed one marvel, yet another rose ahead. There had been a puppet show, and a juggler, and a man with a pony that could count just as nicely as you could imagine. And, best of all, another who piped the most lovely melodies on a little flute that shone silver in the sun.

It was in front of the musician that the little group now stood. Lèoðern was quiet. For once! Her tongue, truthfully, needed a rest. For she had gone on more swiftly than the Mearas could gallop all morning until the flute captured her attention and brought her to rapt silence, her two eyes round saucers in her face. She had never heard anything so beautiful.

The music stopped, and Lèoðern's hands flew together. She clapped and shouted, "Again, again!" But though the player smiled at her, the music did not resume, and the flute's owner walked into a nearby tent.

"Oh, Linduial!" Lèoðern gushed. "Wasn't it nice? Did you ever hear anything like it?"

Linduial smiled, for she had heard many more polished performances from the best musicians in the west of Middle-earth. In comparison, she could hear that the performace was flawed (how many times had a false note been struck, or had a long note cracked in mid-breath?) and the melody quaint. Hardly the stuff of an evening's entertainment in Dol Amroth. But here, in the soft morning, and with the eager little girl and the highly interesting Degas, she could agree that the performance was very nice indeed.

Lèoðern beamed her enthusiasm, and cheerfully announced that she would one day play as well as the man with the flute. Degas laughed cheerily and wished her the best of luck, saying he was certain that she would do beautifully at anything she chose to try.

Just then, a white horse went past. Lèoðern instantly wrenched about and slipped off Degas' shoulders to the ground, causing both Degas and Linduial to start in fear that she would join the Hall's growing list of injuries. But a quick laugh assured them that she was unharmed, and tugging at her friends' hands, she pulled them away after the horse.

[littlemanpoet]

"What awaits me upstairs?" asked Searyn in a tone that could only be named bored.

What in Middle Earth? Eodwine shook his head, more fuddled than before. What had gotten into her?

"The horse fair. The sun! A fresh spring day! Ow!" he flung his arms wide, smacking his knuckles against a post. He sucked his knuckles, not tasting blood at least.

She just watched him with that tired look, as if eager to get back to her drudgery. He sighed.

"Very well. If endless work is what you wish for now, maybe you will break free of such a humor by means of work." He shrugged.

Silently she bent and picked up her washrag and soaking it in the bucket yet again, sank again to her knees and began scrubbing. Eodwine watched for a pair of moments before he turned and started back up the stairs.

"A pity," he threw over his shoulder as he climbed. "I had hoped to tell you my dream last night." He reached the top step and let the door fall to behind him. He went to Kara and told her to bring down a bit of food and drink to Saeryn, who seemed not to want to face the light of day. He sighed and made his way into the sun himself, and began to walk to the horse fair.

[Alcarillo]

Gárwine dined on breakfast alone in his room, but kept the door open so he could be first to know of the injured boy's condition. He was probably attacked when traveling through the city at night, Gárwine thought, and once he was beaten senseless, robbed. And what with the likes of Larswic's sons loitering outside at night, Gárwine couldn't help but feel that the boy should've been a bit more prepared. But then again, he could be new to Edoras. And country life is very different than town life. He remembered his life in Wilfrid's tiny village: serene and safe, though at times very dull.

Gárwine returned to thinking about the wounded boy, and Larswic's sons. It was not impossible for them to have attacked the boy. They were near the same age, were they not? And the sons' midnight laughter could just as easily have been about freshly robbed coin as about a lewd joke.

That's ridiculous, Gárwine thought, chasing the suspicions out of his head. The product of an over-imaginative mind looking for adventure, as my Uncle always said. Garwine finished his breakfast, and as he exited his room he remembered the horse fair was today. Hurrying down the hall, past the room with the injured boy, he found Eodwine near the cellars. Eodwine quickly gave Gárwine leave to visit the fair, and Gárwine bounded out of the inn, glad to be able to take a walk around town.

Gárwine walked through the streets, taking in all the marvels of the crowds. Street musicians played their music right in the road. Riders led their fine horses through the streets to the fairgrounds and the racetrack. People were everywhere. The entire Mid-Emnet had arrived for the occasion.

Gárwine headed to the racetrack first, to see the racers and their horses before the races began. He fingered the few bronze coins in his pocket, but wisely decided not to spend them gambling, remembering how Thornden had warned him against even playing dice. It's too bad Léof's foot still hurts, he thought. He would've liked to race his horse today.

He ambled past the racers, both because of the natural flow of the crowd and because the wanted to see the colorful pavilions and stalls built beyond the racetrack. There he saw innumerable shops selling treasures from all over Middle-earth. Such trade had grown rapidly since the end of the War, when the roads were made safer for the merchants. With four pennies Gárwine bought a little dwarf knife, straight out of the North. The stall-keeper said the best knives were all made by the dwarves, and Gárwine could not resist buying one. He continued browsing through the attractions. There was a group of acrobats tumbling across the ground, and more musicians, and more stalls selling their wares, and men on stilts in fanciful costumes. Wonder upon wonder from all across Middle-earth, and all here at the horse-fair.