Eorling Mead Hall

[littlemanpoet]

"My lord Eodwine, may I present Farahil of Dol Amroth, son of Lord Farlen and brother of our Lady Linduial?"

Was there a tremor in her voice? Farahil nodded and smiled to Saeryn, then bowed to Eodwine, stepping up to offer his hand in friendship. Eodwine kept his eyes on Farahil, but it was not difficult to shift his attention to Saeryn, who was watching the young man in a way that he must surely notice. It was annoying. Eodwine kept his face and forced smile to Farahil. He took Farahil's hand in his.

"Lord Eodwine," Farahil continued as Saeryn drew an audible breath (foolish girl, could she not control herself?) "my family offers its gratitude for the safe return of Lady Linduial. My father bids me to extend the hand of friendship between our houses forthwith as further thanks, with all such meaning as such an offer implies to be taken as truth."

Eodwine was the first to let go of the handshake, which was appropriate, Farahil being the guest. Much was indeed implied. Eodwine relaxed a little.

"It is a most generous gesture," he said, using Gondorian speech patterns he had learned in foreign courts. "I am honored. I accept your offer of frienship and return it in full measure."

Saeryn and this young man were of an age. Eodwine was not under any illusion regarding his own feelings. This young noblewoman of the Rohirrim drew his attention in many different ways. She was a beauty and a spirit both of gaiety and depth at once. Not unlike Kéðra. Who might still be alive. It was no business of his to stand between her and a man of her station and age, no matter how he felt. But that did not stop him from wanting to know how long this rival would be underfoot.

"How long will you be staying with us?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Farahil noted the strength of Eodwine's grasp and listened to his next words. He watched the older man's eyes, wondering why it was that he did not mark Saeryn's continued presence with a glance. Assuredly Farahil had marked her beauty and was curious about her. He knew of her as Lord Degas's sister, a lady of the Rohirrim, and yet she resided as hostess in the hall of a lord to whom she was unwed.

Farahil was not a stranger to Rohan, though he was to these parts, and to the nobles of the land. He had travelled several times with one of his men, a close friend and a transplant from the areas around the Entwash, riding north with him for companionship and adventure as he rode to see his family. Perhaps it was common for ladies of this land to serve in roles taken by commoner women at home, yet he did not see it as being so. Lady Saeryn was her own woman with her own set of rules, he saw, and he desired to learn more. He glanced at her and met her eyes. She neither blushed nor looked away. He looked back at Eodwine.

"I am uncertain how long I will be staying, Lord Eodwine. I do not wish to over-stay my welcome, yet I have business to attend to, both private and less so. I mostly desire to see Linduial. Words may calm fears, yet only sight can put them wholly to rest."

[Celuien]

The morning sun filtered through the leaves of the alder tree behind the kitchen. Garstan stood under the tree with a ball of twine. Construction on the new wing of the hall had been neglected during the search for Linduial. He was glad to be back at work, and delighted that the Lady was safe in Lord Eodwine's hall once again.

A stab of pain ran up Garstan's left arm as he stretched it to tie the string to the base of the tree. The wound suffered during the rescue mission had not yet wholly healed. He would be unable to start the heavier labor of putting stone to chisel for the next few days, but there was nothing to stop the careful work of measuring and marking out the places where the new corridor and kitchen would stand. With a final grimace, he pulled the knot tight and walked to the left to bring his line flush with a straight, narrow furrow in the ground that his son was drawing between the remains of the rear wall of the old kitchen and a stake that would mark the beginning of the new one's nearer wall. With the twine in place, he called to Garmund.

"Here lad. Put the stake where the twine ends."

The boy obliged with a nod. Garstan then measured off a spot three feet nearer the new kitchen and placed a second stake there, ignoring the sharp ache in his arm. The stakes marked what would be the center window of the corridor, set carefully to match the position of the tree that would be the centerpiece of the courtyard.

Garstan walked back to the alder to retrieve his twine. The new statue caught his eye. The odd dwarf, whom he had seen silently walking the courtyard while the measurements were taking place, certainly had a gift for sculpture. He wondered if Náin would be willing to help with the construction. It was a little less artistic a task than the fine statue, but Garstan envisioned some intricate work for the borders of the windows. Perhaps a bench or two at the sills where one could rest and look at the courtyard. But he was getting ahead of himself. The work hadn't even started.

Leaving Garmund to take a rest in the courtyard, Garstan headed inside, hoping to have a chance to speak with the dwarf. Even if Náin was not interested in more mundane stonecraft, perhaps he could still provide a few ideas for the project.

[littlemanpoet]

Before answering Eodwine's question, Farahil seemed to pointedly look at Saeryn, who looked back into Farahil's eyes with an unwavering look. Or stare, more like. Then Farahil looked back at Eodwine.

"I am uncertain how long I will be staying, Lord Eodwine. I do not wish to over-stay my welcome, yet I have business to attend to, both private and less so. I mostly desire to see Linduial. Words may calm fears, yet only sight can put them wholly to rest."

"You are a friend of my house. You cannot overstay your welcome." Eodwine forced his smile to widen. But let me not keep you longer from your sister! I am sure she will be happy to see you." Eodwine turned to Saeryn. "Saeryn." She puller her attention away from the dark and handsome young man. "Please show Lord Farahil to his sister's quarters."

"Yes, lord." They left. Once the door closed behind them, Eodwine huffed a very disturbed sigh, and began whispering to himself. "They are of an age. It is right that they would be interested in each other. She is a beauty, he is a handsome lord with his whole life ahead of him. He represents the future whereas I represent the past, no doubt. Let her go. Let her go. You never had any business following her with such interest in any case. You're too old for her, you silly a*s. Find Kéðra." That stopped him short. Was his wife alive? Was she partnered against her will to a Dunlending who not doubt abused her, fathered his brood on her? Eodwine felt his jaw clenching. More likely she was long dead. His jaw loosened and his throat tightened. Get a hold of yourself, old fool. You have a court to preside over. With that, he checked his face in his new mirror one more time before leaving his room for the Hall, which he had had set up for holding court.

There was already a crowd gathered outside. This would be a long and tiring day. The last thing he needed to do was get himself worked up over a girl half his age who needed a young man, not an old.

He sat in the furlined chair that had been specially made for his Mead Hall. No one had come into the Hall yet. A makeshift firepit had been built in the center, just below the opening in the ceiling. It looked to be a good ceiling. Yes, there were the gifts he had ordered to be brought up, ready to hand as need would arise. He waited, allowing his mind to clear.