Eorling Mead Hall

[Thinlómien]

“Of course you may ask, my lady”, Modtryth answered automatically and made a little pause after continuing. The question had come as a surprise. What indeed did she think of this young man that had appeared to the hall right after her little family?

“May I put it bluntly, my lady?” she asked the younger woman as they walked in the yard.
Lady Saeryn winced. She hadn’t maybe expected this. “Yes, of course, go on.”

“He’s a young rascal, but not one of irremediable sort. I wish my Cnebba doesn’t grow to be a man like that”, Modtryth said, softening her words with a smile. “Trystan’ll hopefully grow out of it. I don’t know him well, but there’s something strange in him or in his past.”

Saeryn nodded, but kept looking at Modtryth, as if urging her to continue. She did: “I guess he has to be let to forget it and to have a clean start, just like you and the Eorl have done, my lady.” She hoped she didn’t sound too arrogant.

Secretely, she congratulated herself for giving a nonsense answer. She would have liked to point out that the boy clearly needed a proper job, and soon. That would help him to settle down. Modtryth however kept her opinion to herself and looked humbly at the lady. She did not wish to step over the boundaries of her own position here where she had been so warmly welcomed, even when she was evidently asked advice. She did not wish to admonishthe lady and the lord.

“May I ask what are your thoughts on the matter, my lady?” she returned the question instead.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"You may. I am to put him in Garwine's charge, for the time at least."

Saeryn considered Trystan, running other duties through her head. Eodwine had asked her to put Trystan under Garwine's watch, and that was what she would do; and she would not give him other duties besides without consulting Eodwine; it was not her place to do so. Still... if there were other duties better suited to him? Trystan was no soldier. Not every spirited young man should be molded. Would it not be better to find a place for him that he came already fit for?

Saeryn had not yet spent more than a few minutes at a time with Trystan. They'd not yet spoken at length, and she did not know him well. She would need to remedy it. She had an idea, but it was not one it was prudent to speak freely about. She would let it develop and then have a word with Eodwine.

"Trystan is a rascal, you are not mistaken about that, but I do not distrust him. There are none in this house I would not trust with my own life or the lives of others close to me. I've found that the best way to foster trust is to give it. Still, I see your meaning.

"We will give him a home and work for as long as he needs it, as that is Eodwine's way. And he must be outfitted for the work. That is why I came to you; to be put to work under Garwine requires clothing for the work; sturdy, functional, and fit for the duties that Garwine gives to him. Also, though, I believe that Trystan might be better viewed in terms of standing if he is dressed as less a ragamuffin." Saeryn smiled, wishing Trystan's freedom to dress as he would was her own; she'd worn breeches perhaps once since the court day, dressing for her role as lady. She knew that she could still wear men's garb, but with so many visitors, noble and common alike, and all of them eying her, and not all eyes as friendly as others, she kept to gowns that showed her standing, but not exhorbitantly. She knew that a woman's bearing and appearance could do much for her, but she still missed the comfort of bare feet and leggings.

"We can outfit him as a soldier with no eyebrows raised, not even his own, but I would like to see Trystan dressed as an upstanding young man even off duty. Would you help me to clothe him in such a way that we are not merely approaching him with words that we disapprove of his poverty?"

[Folwren]

Thornden wandered quietly through the great hall after having breakfast. His eyes traced the wall and roof, the great fireplace in the center, and the new doorway in the wall leading into the corridor coming from the kitchen. Having made a complete round of the room, he went towards the place of construction.

Stigend and Garstan were beginning their day’s work and for a while, Thornden watched them in silence. Their work fascinated him in almost every stage. He knew next to nothing of the art of building or anything like and found it very interesting.

He had stood there nearly five minutes without moving so much as an inch when he heard a soft step near him. He drew in his breath and his eyes left Stigend’s work with the wood to shift to the person near him. It was Garstan’s son, Garmund.

“Good morning, Garmund!” Thornden said, smiling and taking a step towards him. The boy glanced up briefly.

“Good morning, sir,” he answered without stopping or slowing his walk.

Thornden bent his head a little to look more squarely into Garmund’s face. An expression of carefully contained anger or vexation dwelt on his face. Thornden laid his hand on Garmund’s shoulder. “Wait, lad,” he said softly, kneeling with one knee on the ground to bring himself more to the boy’s level. “Is anything the matter?”

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

If any of the small village in the Folde had cared to look toward the morning sun, they could have seen the wilted outline of Degas lit by it. They could, perhaps, have made out the broken harp in his hands; the glow of the strings flashing like infinitely small whips of fire might have given it away. He'd dropped it by accident in a fit of annoyance and watched in horror as a crack split the fine frame and snapped several strings, fraying many others. He walked, a ghost, out the front doors of his family home, his hands curled around it, staring blankly.

Everything is broken in my life.

He pushed the thought away. He did not want it. To admit to problems made it so much harder to qualify doing nothing about them.

"She's to return."

Degas glared at his brother. Fenrir was two inches taller than him, was heavily built; most chose not to pick fights with him... they'd lose if only to his temper.

"What's it to do with me?"

"You know where she is."

"So do you. If you want her back so much, go get her." He felt like he was betraying Saeryn. He should have known... Fenrir did not live far from Edoras. Perhaps a day's ride. If he had not heard before then, he'd learned for certain through the city gossip that his youngest sister was the lady of a man she had not wed.

"You will bring her back."

"I'll do no such thing." Fenrir took a step forward.

"Go ahead, brother, do it. You know you want to. I know you want to. What stops you, brother? That the village can see us? Be a man and pick fights where the world can see. Punish me all you like. I will not be your slave or your messenger. If you want Saeryn back, go and grovel."

"I do not grovel."

"Then you do not deserve her." None of us do. She is the only worthy one of us.

"You will cleave to my will or you will be removed from that of our parents."

"You'd never dare." His words were acid. Careless. What had he to lose? Father would never approve of a rivalry of his children's wills. Father was gone. Mother; she would take them aside in private and share her displeasure with a look of disappointment. Fenrir would wilt. Degas would have already apologized. Mother was gone. Their displeasure meant little. Only the here and now. Here and now, Degas stood alone with his brother in the morning sun, and he had no Linduial to take for evening walks, to write music for, to treat like his very own queen. He had no parents to disapprove. He had no Saeryn to take his hand and calm him, to make him think sense. When had she become the calming force in his life? She'd had the temper as a child. He'd been pushed into watering troughs often enough to know it. When had she changed? Why hadn't he been there for her?

"I can do it without question. You left home with little warning and no regard for the state of your lands or your people. You left their well-being to another while you frolicked in foreign lands living upon the purse of another. Is that the responsibility to hold lands? You allow your youngest sister to live in the house of a man not her husband, to be his lady out of wedlock. You allow rumors to garner about her, cutting her hard earned reputation to ribbons, and what do you do of it? You care nothing for your land or your family. Your inheritance is undeserved."

"You dare!" Degas stepped forward, his harp still in his hands.

"You will bring Saeryn home or the matter will be taken before the king and he will learn more even than the little I've said."

"You have nothing."

"I have everything."

[Formendacil]

Náin woke for the first time in a very long time rather later than usual. And grumpier. He hadn't been this grumpy since...

Oh, right.

Not since the day after Eodwine's first court day, when he had faced the unpleasant task of apologizing to Degas, Saeryn, and Eodwine. What a mess that had been! Degas had done nothing to endear himself to Náin, and had told him that if Saeryn forgave him, then he would. Saeryn had been nicer about it than Degas, but had not given Náin a formal statement of accepting his apology, but had told him that if Eodwine would forgive him, then she would as well.

What with having been in the middle of Edoras at the time, away from the Mead Hall, and escorting Saeryn in search of -of all people- her brother Degas, Náin had not had the opportunity to seek out Eodwine until evening, when Eodwine had again sought his chambers- the same place Náin had blown up and gotten himself into such a mess in the first place.

What had passed between Náin and Eodwine that night, nobody knew. They seemed to have come to terms, anyway, and the consensus being that Eodwine was a just and kind man, the general feeling was that Náin had gotten the forgiveness he'd been looking for, and all was well.

Whatever the case may have been, that was a good month ago. Since then the statue of Falco had been given a proper unveiling, and Náin had busied himself with several smaller projects around the Mead Hall, including the chimney and fireplace for the new kitchen with Garstan and Stigend. Working with the two practical labourers, Náin decided that, as far as most things were concerned, he much preferred to spend his time with commoners than with nobles. Among other things, they tended to have a greater appreciation for Dwarven practicality.

Which brought Náin back to why he was in a foul mood. The sandstone block that had taken him three weeks to have hauled in from Dunharrow's quarries, and which was supposed to have been the basis for his next statue, a smaller-than-life statue of the late King Théoden mounted for battle, to be a gift from King Éomer to his sister Lady Éowyn, had arrived cracked right down the middle. Just about any way Náin looked at the thing, it was not going to be possible to turn out the statue he was intending from it. He needed to get another block from Dunharrow- something that Éomer's treasurer would be displeased about, and he needed to find a use in the meantime for his flawed block.

Tired and grumpy from a night dreaming about the cracked sandstone, Náin dressed and went in search of breakfast.

[Kath]

Kara was happily kneading dough when Náin entered, searching for food. With all the renovations going on at the moment she and Frodides were often unsure where exactly they could work at any one time, which was not always conducive to good relations. It was for this reason that the Hall had been swamped with large amounts of bread in recent days, as the making of it calmed frayed nerves and nasty tempers as well as any fight or rant did.

The Dwarf didn't look entirely happy, giving Kara a rather surly sounding greeting as he took a plate and began to fill it. He hadn't been in a good mood since his latest project had been scuppered, and Kara doubted things would improve until he had something worthy of his talents to work on. Still, there was nothing to lose by trying to offer friendship. Opening the oven door she removed the tray of just finished rolls, and called to the Dwarf before he could leave the room.

"Náin? Would you like a fresh roll to go with that? Still warm from the oven."

[Celuien]

"Is anything the matter?"

Garmund felt Thornden's glance searching his face and looked to the ground. Anything the matter? Of course there was something the matter. Everything, in fact. His sister liked a new, strange boy more than she liked her own brother - a brother who had been her best friend and playmate for her whole life. Until now.

Frustration and annoyance burst out in a single question.

"Do you have a sister?"

[Formendacil]

"My thanks, Kara," said Náin, accepting the roll. Now that he had someone to talk to, he showed no signs of departing immediately, but appeared in a mood to chat, if not to be shiningly cheerful. Over the course of two months, he'd grown familiar enough with Kara not to get too flustered in her presence, and he enjoyed the company of Frodides, whose no-nonsense and authoritarian approach to running the kitchen appealed to him.

"I envy you," Náin told Kara, taking the roll. "Able to work at your craft every day, producing these things of beauty- doing something useful and praiseworthy. I chafe at the delay between projects to occupy me, and Garstan is a worthy mason who needs little in the way of assistance."

"It's hardly all fun and games feeding the Mead Hall," said Kara, working at doing just that, flitting around at various tasks while talking. "People never stop being hungry, you know."

"I do not know how it is for Men," said Náin, "but Dwarves, for the most part, would rather put their hands to steady labour that taxes them, even taxes them overmuch, than to sit idle day in and day out. We need things to occupy our hands and our minds."

"Surely not only work can do that," said Kara, pausing after wiping off a counter. "Surely you can occupy your hands and minds just as easily at work as at play."

"Under normal circumstances, yes," agreed Náin. "But I have had more play and less work than usual, and I prefer to be productive. And there is only so much in the way of play to occupy a strange Dwarf in this city. Even after two months, I'm still a stranger to most of the city and lands outside this Mead Hall. The people and places that would entertain a local such as yourself are unknowable to me- at least without a guide. And, it irks me to say, most of those around me are better occupied with work than I am."

"Well, I would envy you rather than pity you," said Kara. "You're willing to help bake and cook, as far as I'm concerned- though you'd have to do exactly as Frodides told you, lest you find yourself boiling with the vegetables."

"No fear there!" Náin held up his roll-filled hand. "I have no talent in the culinary arts. Merely a great appreciation and taste for the craft." He bit into the roll as a demonstration.

"And this, I might add," he continued, "is most definitely beyond my abilities."

[Thinlómien]

"We can outfit him as a soldier with no eyebrows raised, not even his own, but I would like to see Trystan dressed as an upstanding young man even off duty. Would you help me to clothe him in such a way that we are not merely approaching him with words that we disapprove of his poverty?" lady Saeryn asked.
"I'm at your service, my lady", Modtryth answered politely, giving the younger woman a warm smile. "That ragamuffin - as you put it, my lady - certainly needs new clothing." It seemed that young men were like boys, always lacking proper, fitting or not worn out clothes.

For a while, they just walked in silence. Modtryth let her gaze follow a sparrow hopping in the ground. I am to put him in Garwine's charge, for the time at least, the Lady's words echoed in Modtryth's head.
"He is to become a soldier then, my lady?" she asked.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn smiled softly. She liked very much to speak with Modtryth, who spoke so shrewdly, yet without the words needed by so many to carry the same message. Is he to become a soldier?

"Eodwine wishes it to be so, for now. The direction, I think, will be good for Trystan in the short term." And the long term? No... what comes will come. Eodwine will see sense, I'm sure.

"Do you not think, then, that he will take to it?"

She laughed. "Do you see him following the orders of another for very long? He does what I ask of him because, I think, he sees that I do not ask unnecessary things, or things that I would not do myself, and because I am the Lady here, and he listens to what Eodwine asks, but you can see, I'm sure, that he does it with considerably less than a soldier's stoic assent. The theatrics make me smile, but how many soldiers have we seen that flirt so shamelessly with everyone from young Kara to even Frodides? No, do not answer me that... I've heard too many stories to even think of my example as serious. But do you see my meaning? Trystan will act the soldier, because it is what is asked of him, but he is no soldier at heart. Not from what of him I've seen."

[Thinlómien]

"But do you see my meaning? Trystan will act the soldier, because it is what is asked of him, but he is no soldier at heart. Not from what of him I've seen."
"I'm sure you're right, my lady", Modtryth replied, though she was not so sure. She, however, did not question the decision, she trusted that lord Eodwine and lady Saeryn had better knowledge to make their decisions from than she had. Besides, it was not her place.

Things will manage, in one way or another, she told herself. That was, actually, a motto of hers.

"It seems that children are not here at the yard, my lady. I will have a look inside; are you still willing to accompany me, my lady, or do you have more pressing duties?"

[Kath]

Biting her tongue to keep from laughing had given Kara's face a strange expression she knew, but it was better than letting it out and causing any offence to Náin, who was stumbling over his words as though this was their first meeting again. She knew it had been cruel to suggest such thoughts to him, but the mischevious streak she had always retained had reared it's head.

Eventually the Dwarf managed to pull himself back together and got a full sentence out.

"Well, if you are willing as you say, I shall be pleased to accept. When do you anticipate having a day to take off?"

"I don't entirely know." Kara mused. She knew she was free to choose what time she had off, but within reason, and only if she wasn't needed for something important. "It might be wise to wait for Lord Eodwine to return as he may not be pleased to find a cook missing if he comes back with guests. Shall we say that if he returns alone and with no need for an extra cook we will go exploring the day after?"