Eorling Mead Hall

[JennyHallu]

Marenil arose early, as was his custom, puttering about his cozy little room. A few moments' searching awarded him with three small slates and pencils, wrapped in muslin, that he'd bought the day before at the market place.

Now only to find little Leodern, and then the boys this afternoon.

Marenil looked on the prospects of the coming day with a sigh. A quiet man, he had grown used to living on the edge of the bustling, chaotic life at the Inn. Most of his days were spent on the bench in the kitchen garden, reminiscing with Frodides, whose practical nature and similar years made her a comfortable companion to the old man. He wondered if young Kara, constantly running back and forth through the garden pursuing her own duties, even noticed his presence there, so unobtrusive was he.

Now he would have three rambunctious children in his charge all day long. Not that he minded, he was more than a little fond of young creatures. Small children did not see his years, did not make allowances for the pain of his joints and the slowness of age, they simply saw him: a grown man who would listen to them in seriousness and respect. They would grip his arms and drag him along to see some wonder or another; examining a butterfly or beetle or tree or flower with the awe reserved for the very young. With children Marenil himself felt young.

But the reserved near-silence of this retirement was certainly at an end.

He sighed and put on the knitted house-slippers Frodides had given him a few weeks back, venturing out into the hall. Where might a young thing like Leodern hide herself this early in the morning? A delicate aroma wafted through the hall and Marenil smiled as he followed it. Breakfast, of course. The girl would be at breakfast.

The hall was filled, chaotic, and noisy when he arrived, and it only took a moment to see who wasn't there to see why. Kara was nowhere to be seen. A likely lass, the young cook, and Marenil missed her sensible presence as he descended the stairs and into the fray. Looking for the source of the warm rolls that seemed to be making their way through the room, he wasn't carefully watching where he was going.

Next thing he knew he rammed decidely into the side of--

"Oh, my pardon, lord," he said from his new place seated on the floor. "Lovely morning, is it not? So quiet and peaceful." He chuckled to himself as Eodwine extended a hand to help him up. "So relaxing to retire to the country...Have you seen Leodern? She needs a few inches yet before she can be easily found."

[littlemanpoet]

"Pardon?" Eodwine cried as he gave Marenil a hand up. "Pardon me for not looking where I was going! As for Léoðern (Eodwine noticed, with an inner pleasure at such things, how Marenil's southern Gondorian dialect left off the Eorlinga accents in the girl's name), Garstan had just taken her in hand to bring her to you. It seems she has already made friends of our newest serving wench. Allow me to introduce her!"

Eodwine proceeded to introduce Ginna and Randvér (an old friend from the war) to Marenil, and could tell from the relaxed manner of Randvér that he had taken an immediate liking to Marenil, which was good, considering that which he had to share with the elderly man.

After a momentary pause in the small talk, Eodwine directed them all to a table so that Marenil, Randvér, and Ginna could break their fast. "Where is Kara?"

"I do believe she is not to be found this morning, lord," said Marenil.

"Ah well. I shall go see Frodides a moment." Eodwine stopped and thought a moment about how the kitchen was short handed this morning, and made an instant decision. "Ginna, you shall start your duties now. Come, I'll introduce you to Frodides." Ginna, startled, stood up and followed him into the kitchen. "You shall start by bringing food and drink for Marenil and your father, and a little more for me as well. After you have done that, you shall eat in the kitchen, as is common for serving wenches."

They passed into the kitchen. Frodides was busy over a sink full of steaming hot water, washing earthenware dishes. The smell of baking bread wafted through the air.

"Frodides! You have help! Allow me to introduce Ginna daughter of Randvér, eorldorman from the north of the Middle Emnet."

[Folwren]

Javan was left alone with the two horses. He did not mind working by himself. He didn’t generally like to work by himself (he always had the feeling that everyone else was sitting around doing nothing whenever he had a job off on his own), but now he had two horses to groom. He set to work loosening the cinches and taking off the saddles. The horses stood quietly, their heads lowered to a comfortable, relaxed position, their noses touching the walls. One stood with his hind leg bent, and his hoof pointing towards the ground.

Javan hauled first one heavy saddle to the tack room and then the other. He returned for yet a third trip to gather the blankets and other trappings. When he came back, he picked up one of the brushes that he had fetched earlier and set to work on the nearest horse.

He had hardly brushed the horse’s neck when a call from the doorway stopped him. He looked up and saw Léof trotting towards him. The ostler slowed to a walk before coming too near the horses.

“Stop, Javan,” he said, placing his hand on the nearest horse’s hindquarters. “Just untie him. We can’t brush them down until the sweat has dried. Come on.”

Javan wanted to ask why, but Léof had already turned to untie his horse. Javan followed suit and together they led the horses out into the yard to walk back and forth.

“Why do we have to do this?” Javan asked, ducking under his horse’s neck so that he could walk beside Léof.

“It’s useless to groom a horse that is wet and sweaty. The dirt doesn’t come out – it turns to mud – and the brush pushes it back into his skin and hair. But if we wait until it’s dry, the dirt will have come to the top of his coat and we can just brush him off. Javan,” he said, seriously, “don’t walk under a horse’s neck when he’s walking. You might get trampled on.”

“Sorry,” Javan said. “So it’s easier if we just wait till they’re dry? Are you sure? It’ll take ages to walk them until they’re not wet anymore! Can’t we just stick ‘em in stalls and brush them later? They’ll dry on their own, won’t they?”

[Firefoot]

“Well, yes,” said Léof, “and you could do that if drying them off was the only goal. But horses also have to be cooled down after exercise – especially strenuous exercise, like traveling. It’s like warming a horse up before exercise – you can’t push them straight into a gallop, you have to warm them up. This is just the opposite.”

He glanced over at Javan to see if he had any more questions. He appeared to be thinking this new information over. Quite honestly, Léof was surprised at all the questions; Javan had seemed more familiar with a stable than he was now proving. Still, if Javan was willing to learn, Léof didn’t mind teaching him. He would just have to keep a closer eye on Javan than he had first assumed – at least for these first several days, until he felt comfortable that Javan knew what he was doing and would not be a danger to himself or the horses.

“Also,” Léof added, “cooling them down like this lets you watch for any limping, to make sure the horses didn’t injure themselves while they were being ridden.”

“So how long do we have to do this? Just until they’re dry?”

“Pretty much. You can also check their legs and right here under their necks to make sure they’re cool. It doesn't take that long, really.”

[Kath]

The unintended cross-talk had Náin spluttering again and trying to keep from talking for fear of embarrassment, but the silence had been slowly needling at Kara until she was desperate for conversation and she wasn't about to let him withdraw again. Thankfully she had managed to find a topic the Dwarf was obviously immensely interested in as he informed her about it during their entire walk around the town.

The conversation had begun with leatherwork, but each stall they passed had Náin expounding on the virtues, faults and difficulties of dealing with whatever material lay upon it. Kara had soon learnt more about craftsmanship in an hour than she thought she'd ever need in a lifetime, and it didn't seem as though Náin planned to stop. She wondered at the difference between his uncomfortable silence earlier and this sudden outpouring of words, and though she was pleased at the change she only wished there were some middle ground.

Eventually, as they left the town and Náin began to tell her how the paths they were walking on had been made, Kara felt that it was time for a change of subject. She was well aware that the path they were now on had been laid by Gondorians for they were heading out to the ruins that civilisation had left behind. The history behind that was something she was greatly interested in and hoped that Náin knew as much about it as he did about stonework for she was more than willing to learn about it. For now though she wanted merely to talk.

"Of course the skill of those who made it can barely be seen now since so many people have walked all over it."

Having been listening to Náin still with one ear Kara noted the natural stopping point in his speech and jumped in before he could continue.

"Well that is a shame, but I suppose that is the way with the world. Old things must go for new ones to arrive. Just like at the Hall. It seems that Eodwine changed a lot of things when he took the place over, both inside and out"

Náin nodded slowly, unsure where Kara was heading with this, but tried to join in anyway.

"Indeed. The new building work is extensive, and it is fortunate that those with the necessary skills are staying with us."

Silently Kara cheered. A good gossip about the Hall and it's residents was perfect for occupying them on the walk.

"Do you know many of the others well? I haven't taken the opportunity to really talk to a lot of them yet though being in the kitchen I do hear what goes on. I suppose I ought to make more of an effort but there has been so much going on recently! The only ones I really see are the children who love to tell Frodides of their day, and they are very sweet, especially little Leodern - have you seen much of them?"

[Formendacil]

"Indeed. The new building work is extensive, and it is fortunate that those with the necessary skills are staying with us," said Náin slowly.

As his mouth slowed down, and his mind began to think rather than just spew forth on the craftsmanship around him, Náin found that he had calmed down during the comfortable discourse on the skills of the Rohirric artisans, and that he was able to assess the conversation without getting too nervous.

He had been boring Kara. A lot. He began to mentally fidget again.

At least, Kara had heard enough about craftsmanship. Náin began to get agitated again, concerned that he was ruining Kara's day off. It was all very well for him to spend the day in agitated agony, but he was a Dwarf of aristocratic lineage and his own master. Kara's days off were less regular, and she was nobly spending this one in his company. It was a trait, he noted in one of the calmer parts of his mind, that was more typical of Men than of Dwarves. It was the trait of generosity.

But Kara did not seem to have wanted him to stop speaking entirely, for she went on.

"Do you know many of the others well? I haven't taken the opportunity to really talk to a lot of them yet though being in the kitchen I do hear what goes on. I suppose I ought to make more of an effort but there has been so much going on recently! The only ones I really see are the children who love to tell Frodides of their day, and they are very sweet, especially little Léoðern - have you seen much of them?"

"I have seen them about," said Náin slowly. Here was a field Dwarves early learned to avoid. It was better to say nothing than to say something offensive, and Dwarves did not compliment if the compliment was not honest. "To be truthful, though, they avoid me, and I would rather have it so. I am older than their grandsires, and I am a serious man. I prefer the company of their elders, and I think they sense this of me."

To Náin's amazement, Kara laughed.

"Náin," she said, "you're old enough to be my grandsire, nearly!"

This, thought Náin was precisely why Dwarves said little in the way of gossip. Kara did not seem offended, but it was well that she was a daughter of Men and not of Dwarves.

"I am afraid I did not think of that," admitted Náin, no longer so nervous of what he was saying as he was wary. "Our races age differently. In Dwarven terms I am considered as much grown up as you are."

"But I am not really considered grown at all," said Kara. "At least, not by everyone."

"I am merely 53," said Náin, at which Kara made a stifled noise of amusement. "Which is young indeed. The famed Gimli son of Glóin was over sixty when he wished to join his father and Thorin Oakenshield on the quest for Erebor, but his father said he was too young, and most Dwarves would have agreed. I am a talented sculptor, and the lands are safe since the War, so my father did not object to my coming to Edoras, but as we Dwarves go, I am young and barely tried."

[littlemanpoet]

Falco took note that Eodwine had chosen a different table to sit at with Marenil and Randvér. This was a fine how do you do! He took out his pipe, lit it, and puffed his a spleen's worth of smoke rings, angry wisps thickening the air of the Hall.

"Why make you this smoke?" asked Lefun with a cough, the two hands taking turns wiping Lefun's, then Ritun's eyes. Falco watched their cooperation with mild amazement.

"How do you decide who gets his eyes wiped first?"

"I first go," said Lefun, "as in front I be. Long ago we chose it."

"Ah."

"Why make smoke?"

"I like it."

Lefun made a face that looked like he'd tasted something bitter in his porridge. "How?"

"I know not and care not. It grows on you."

Ritun looked surprised, and watched with renewed interest.

"Too big it be for you now!" cried Lefun.

What? Then Falco laughed. "No! Not getting bigger! When I tried it as a teener I didn't like it much at all, but all the other hobbit lads swore by it, so I kept at it. Now I like it plenty."

"Tree bark I would eat before making such smoke!" Lefun said. Ritun whispered in his ear. "We need work to pay the lord."

"Let's wait until he's finished with those two. Let's you two and me go out and walk about for now."

Falco got up and the twins reluctantly followed him out of the Hall.

[Folwren]

Javan asked no more questions. He watched the horses as they led them back and forth across the courtyard. They did dry quickly, as Léof had said they would. They led them back into the stables and tied once more to the rings in the wall. Léof handed a brush to Javan and the two boys set to work grooming them.

Javan was thinking as he worked. He wondered what his duties would be. If there was too much work to be done, they wouldn’t be able to ride, and that would almost defeat the purpose of working in the stables (he thought). Léof probably did get to ride, though, Javan decided after a little more consideration. The horses needed exercise. But what if Léof was going to give him only the bad jobs and not let him help exercise? Maybe Léof would think he was too young, or too little, to help with that. He lifted himself onto his toes to peer over the back of the horse so that he could see Léof.

“Do you ever ride, Léof?” he asked.