Eorling Mead Hall

[Lalwendë]

He’d done it, the lad had actually done it, and what’s more, he’d made it look real. Larswic shook his head and wondered if the lad really had managed to pull it off all on his own. He couldn’t be sure.

His heart was racing now, more so than when the race had been going on. He had shouted and hollered along with everyone else as the riders had neared the winning post, but it was an act at first. Yet as the race had finally drawn to an end, his shouting and excitement had been genuine. His face was red and his throat sore. The little slips of paper which his bets had been written on were now getting crumpled in his fist, and he looked down at them almost tenderly, and smoothed them out.

Larswic went quickly to the bookmakers to claim his gold. First was the man to whom he had placed a single large bet on Leof’s horse. This was the most important one, and the bookmaker gave him a broad smile as he handed over the money, though his face was white with shock. Larswic left him with a silver coin and an instruction to “get yourself drunk tonight with that”. Next he went to the bookmakers where he had placed money on his own horse coming second; the amounts here were large too, as the odds on this horse not winning were long. Finally, he went to claim the money from his first and second place wager.

As he moved quickly through the throngs around the various bookmakers, Larswic nodded his head at a few people who went by. However, these were more than passing acquaintances. One was none other than the son of the man he had sold the black stallion to, and by the way he held his cloak close to his chest, he was reaping a large reward of gold for his wager. He gave Larswic an almost imperceptible wink as he went by and Larswic quickly pressed something into his hand.

The others that Larswic passed were some of his closest contacts. Regular punters, trusted dealers and those men who he wished to keep in favour. A small number of Larswic’s customers got a lot more for their money when they bought a horse from him; they also bought his intelligence and insider knowledge, they bought future hopes and chances from the man. He knew that he would be treated to more than a few drinks over the coming days. He also knew that he had bought their discretion and moved confidently as ever through the crowds, heading for the winners’ enclosure.

When he got there, he played his role as a part owner of the second placed horse, commiserating that he had not won, but saying how he was content with his share of the second prize, all the time feeling the pull and heavy weight of the bag of gold he carried under his shirt.

[Folwren]

‘And therein lies the problem when the opinions and decisions under consideration concern me. . .’ Thornden wondered what sort of trouble the three wives and the elderly mother could possibly cause Rose when such questions were under discussion. He glanced at her curiously. Surely she didn’t have too many troubles, living out here among family that loved her. He’d seen and heard stories of young people hating their life at home and having to run from it, but she didn’t appear to have that problem.

‘What about you?’ she asked, breaking his thought abruptly. ‘Didn’t I hear you say you were the oldest in your family? I envy you, as I’m the youngest in mine. I wonder. . .it must be easier, isn’t it? As the oldest child and a male, to boot, to be able to avoid your mother and sister’s whims and plans, as you so ably put it earlier.’

Thornden broke into his easy smile and laughed softly. ‘Don’t envy me,’ he said, shaking his head and looking away briefly. ‘It’s not easier being oldest. And it may be even harder when you’re a male,’ he added, nodding slightly. ‘More is expected of you - when you’re younger anyway. If something bad happens and you’re part of the pack, you’ll probably be the one blamed for the ruckus, whereas the younger chaps get off free because “they didn’t know any better.” Of course, as I started getting older that didn’t happen quite as often.

‘But then there were other problems. Father wanted me to stay and take over the land and the breeding, raising, selling, harvesting, storing as the seasons required. I was oldest, I should take it on.’ Thornden made a short, soft laugh again, a regretful look crossing his face. It was clearly an old disagreement. “But that wasn’t what I wanted to do. I don’t want to raise cows. I may have patience to train horses, but I don’t have the interest. As for wheat and barley, corn and whatever else that would need to be raised - well, it’s all very well and good, so long as the farmer likes what he does and doesn’t mind it, but I wasn’t willing to go out day after day, hope that it rains, lug water if it doesn’t. Crops and animals wasn’t what I wanted to do all my life.

‘As you can tell, I didn’t stay. I guess, in some given lights, I should of. It may have been my duty, but I don’t know. I went to Edoras. I went there because when my father went off to war and came back with stories, and his wound, I knew I wanted to fight. As I got older, of course, I realized that I wouldn’t want to fight, necessarily, but to just guard our king would be enough. And it was, while it lasted. Father agreed, finally, that I should go. . .I guess he didn’t have much chance to disagree, seeing as I told him I was leaving whether he liked it or not. It wasn’t a wise thing to do.’ Thornden shook his head. ‘I’m not usually hasty, and that may have been another thing in which I should have tried again to talk it over.

‘It was hard,’ he said, winding down towards conclusion. ‘Being oldest definitely isn’t easiest. I have to set examples for the younger children. Especially for my youngest brother, Javan, who used to think I couldn’t possibly do anything wrong. It’s hard to live up to that standard, you know?

‘But the whims and plans of my mother and sisters that I said I avoided. . .that was only in marriage. And it’s not like they didn’t put me through the ringer at times to gain their own ends. They tried everything, I imagine. . .everything that came within reach. After I moved to Edoras, I got letters almost every week from both of them, and in almost every one they asked if I had met anyone and to be sure to tell them if I planned to get married. As though I wouldn’t! The inquiries have gotten less, though, and I’m in the hopes that they’ve fair forgotten that I’m still lacking a wife. Medreth now has a son that keeps her pre-occupied, and my mother is still busy with four children still at home - one still only twelve.’ He smiled at Rose, a merry light in his eye. ‘By comparison, our family is much younger than yours, you see.’

[littlemanpoet]

"My lord," he said. "May I speak to you?" Eodwine turned. It was Garstan. The timing was really very bad. The horse race had begun, and Léof, his very own ostler, was in the thick of it!

"After this race!" He said. "Léof our ostler is riding in this one. See!"

"Well I'll- So he is!" Garstan hooked his arms over the fence alongside Eodwine and they along with Saeryn watched, mouths agape. Little by little awed silence gave way to muttered wishes in Léof's interest.

"Come on, come on!" said Eodwine.

"He's making a move!" Garstan cried presently.

"Oh, oh! What if he wins!" Saeryn cried.

"Come on!! Come on!!" Eodwine cried with abandon, his eyes wide, his neck taut.

"That big black's catching him!" Garstan muttered.

"Oh please no!" Saeryn begged.

Eodwine almost said that the black seemed to be tiring, but no. He knew horses. That black was being reined in, or at least he thought maybe. Next instant, Léof was across the finish line. Garstand and Saeryn whooped, and Eodwine found himself the recipient of a quick ecstatic embrace from Saeryn. Then she was jumping up and down in her excitement.

"He won! He won!" she was crying.

That had been nice, Eodwine thought, but he had not forgotten the strange nature of Léof's win. He wondered who owned that black.

"Let's go to Léof!" Eodwine said, and started walking.

"Lord!" Garstan said, suddenly reminded of his question. "About the kitchen. I was thinking....."

"Talk while we walk, Garstan. Coming, Saeryn?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Of course, Lord." she said, taking his proffered arm lightly, feeling his toned muscles beneath his light shirt. Saeryn used his title without particularly realizing it, thoughts still on the race, her eyes still seeing the handsome ebony racer fall behind, her ears still ringing with the shouts of the crowd, her heart still racing as quickly as the horses had.

The dream shifted from her attention as she giddily walked beside Eodwine, a bounce in her step, as enthusiastic as she would have been had she won the race herself.

The breeze blew her hair lightly and she impatiently pushed a stray curl from her pink cheeks as her eyes scanned the crowd for Lèof or his horse.

"Eodwine, we should celebrate his victory later... perhaps a small party in his honor. What think you?"

[Undómë]

Away – Wistan’s farm – Dunstede

A delighted smile lit Rose’s face, though not in echo of Thornden’s. Here was one who had already done battle against the urgings of mother and sisters and now stood firm against their schemes and stratagems concerning marriages. He’d made it clear, she thought, that marriage was not in his plans. Let her mother and her little covey dream of her hand-fasted to this steward of the Eorl. He would be proof against them. An unwitting partner in her own plans to avoid that little noose for as long as she might.

‘Perhaps the stork should bring my mother another wee one to take care of,’ she said, laughing aloud. ‘I’ll agree to say then that your lot was not that much easier, having heard the obligations and demands you’ve had to deal with. And in the bigger sense I suppose you could say my little life is not cast in such looming shadows as I might have made it seem.’ Rose laughed again, as if to remove any doubts on that. ‘Really, I do find my life here on this farm very satisfying . . . its lands and flocks and crops . . . and yes, even the hard, drudging work at times . . . the caring and the doing of all that needs be done gives me a rare satisfaction that I can hardly think anything or anyone might with such constancy.’

She halted her horse beneath one of the old apple trees that grew amidst the field’s hedgerow. Her hand went up to one of the lower boughs where the creamy, five-petaled blossoms grew thick among the leaves. ‘Look here,’ she said, plucking a small cluster of flowers. ‘How pretty it is and how fresh it smells, just like spring. My bees are already hard at work making honey from these flowers that we’ll soon have to spread thick on our bread. In the summer the spreading branches will give shade to us as we stop for water or food when the field needs working. And in the early autumn will come the fruit, to eat right from the tree, make into good cider, both fresh and hard, and then the pies all hot and sweet.’ Rose tucked the stem of flowers in her hair and patted the scaly grey bark of the tree. ‘When the old girl dies, her wood will keep us warm when the snow comes and make the hall smell sweet, like spring.’

A moment of certain ease and pleasure passed over her features as she perused what could be seen from the vantage point of her saddle.

‘Ah . . . but I forget. You are in a hurry to see the Eorl’s business done, and here I am talking apples and bees and such to you.’ She grinned even as she spoke, no regret evident that she had both poked a bit of fun at him and wasted a bit of his time. Rose nudged her horse a little with her heels, urging her mare down the little path again.

‘Just a little way further, Master Thornden. They’re in the far western field. It’s the one that butts up against old Eadig’s place.’ She paused for a moment. ‘That is, I guess it would still be Eadig’s place, though maybe it’s gone back to the King or would it be the new Eorl? Eadig died, you see, this last winter. His boys died in the War, and his wife, too is dead. He was the last to go.’

‘My father would like to add the little holding to Dunstede. Part of today’s plan was to walk the acreage; I think that’s what I heard them say as they left. I suppose that he will need to decide whether the place can make the land-rent.’ She looked across at Thornden. ‘I’m quite sure it will, you know. I used to take Old Eadig baskets of honey and bread and ham and other such as the old man needed. He used to show me around his fields. They weren’t planted, of course. He couldn’t manage it in his last years. But he told me great stories of what he’d grown and the flocks he’d pastured.’ She nodded her head at the thought of new opportunity. ‘Of course, we’d . . . that is, my father . . . would need to find out how he might obtain the land.’

Rose looked thoughtfully at Thornden. ‘You wouldn’t by any chance know how to go about it, would you? Be a shame to let a good farm like that lie fallow. Be no one to pay the rent . . .’

[littlemanpoet]

"Eodwine, we should celebrate his victory later... perhaps a small party in his honor. What think you?"

"Yes indeed! That is, as soon as I fall on his other foot as punishment for risking laming himself for the rest of his life!"

"You wouldn't!"

"No, but I should."

Saeryn grinned and seemed satisfied, walking jauntily by his side. He wondered what Garstan thought of the spectacle of the Eorl of Middle Emnet arm in arm with his hostess who happened to be half his age. She had deftly inserted her arm in the crook of his arm. He supposed that maybe his elbow had been not quite snug against his own side, so it could have looked like he was inviting her to take his arm. Oh well, the damage was done, if damage one could call it. Eodwine cast furtive glances to either side, to see if people noticed, and if they did, how they were reacting. Maybe it was all in his head, but he could swear that he saw a few more winks and knowing smirks than was really quite necessary.

Not that he minded her touch one bit. No, he enjoyed that. Too much. It was taking great reservoirs of restraint to hold himself from taking her in his arms and determining once for all how soft those lips really were and how they would feel against his own. Now he felt guilty, especially considering his dream.

Stop it.

She probably hadn't a clue. And therefore he must continue with all the endurance he could muster to keep her from getting one. Maybe he should release her arm. No, that would probably send the wrong message too. Best just make the best of a bad situation.

"My lord?"

It was Garstan. The man had had a question, and all the hubbub had kept him from putting it to Eodwine. Time to redress that wrong.

"Yes, Garstan! You had a question! Put it to me!"

[Celuien]

"Yes, Garstan! You had a question! Put it to me!"

Eodwine's sudden command was a relief to Garstan. Saeryn's arm in Eodwine's made him uncomfortable. As it did Eodwine, or so Garstan suspected from the furtive glances he directed at passers by. On second thought, it wasn't the joined arms that disturbed him as much as the vague uneasiness he detected in Eodwine. Garstan welcomed the invitation to pose his question.

"Well, my lord. I was thinking. While the wall is down, might it be wise to move the kitchen back a bit from the main hall? With all the cooking and flame in the kitchen, it makes the Great Hall over warm in summer, I'm sure. And too, should the kitchen take fire, it would spread quickly to the rest of the hall as things are. So I've seen it before where the kitchen was separated a bit. Moved away by a hall. What do you think?"

Garstan watched Eodwine's face, trying to detect his reaction to the plan. It had been a bold step. This was Garstan's first time suggesting an idea of his own to an employer, and an important one at that. He hoped that the idea would be well received, not least because he genuinely liked and respected Eodwine. But the thoughtful gaze in his eyes was unreadable to Garstan.