Eorling Mead Hall

[littlemanpoet]

"With what name do I call my rescuer?" Rowenna asked as she held the mastiff still while Eodwine lifted Cnebba onto its back.

"I am Eodwine of the Ga-" he paused; no, that was no longer adequate. "I am Eodwine, Eorl of the Middle Emnet." The mastiff did not protest.

Rowenna laughed. "You mock me. There is no such thing."

Eodwine grinned, abashed. "Nay, 'tis so. Eomer created me an Eorl, and charged me with a portion of his realm. My mead hall is in Edoras not far from Meduseld."

"An Eorl's mead hall within sight of the king's? That is odd."

Eodwine looked about. They were too easily seen. "We must leave this place. Let us head west toward Edoras." He started off.

"Then why go you south?"

Eodwine stopped and looked at her questioningly, then following her eyes, looked up the slopes of the White Mountains straight ahead of him. He shook his head. "I must have gotten turned around in the woods. Where are the ruins from here?"

"They are to our north." She pointed in the direction from which Eodwine had unwittingly come. "If Edoras is to the west from here, then it is that way," she indicated.

"Then that is our way."

They left the clearing, Rowenna holding the leads of five big dogs.

"You say you have made friends of these beasts?" Eodwine said, marveling.

"Aye. 'Twas easy. The hound, Bear, grew up with me on my father's farm. I gave bits of the little food spared me to these five. It was not long before they saw me as friend."