Eorling Mead Hall

[Mithalwen]

"Really. It is nothing."

Elfthain realised he had done the wrong thing in asking about Lys' leg - the older boy clearly didn't want a fuss made but it was hard to ignore the fact that for him each step was a small triumph while Elfthain moved with agility and careless ease.

Elfthain decided the best course of action was to accept Lys' words without quibble and to moderate his own pace.

"That's good - resting is boring. I fell out of a tree once and my mother made me rest for ages " He shuddered a little at the memory of what had in fact been a very short restriction.

"I wonder if my mother knows Hrethel, she knows a lot of herblore - learnt it from my grandmother along with the midwifery - lots of the people in the village come to her for possetts and simples so she must be good, but she doesn't think so, says that they are just used coming up to the farm from when my grandmother was alive" Elfthain knew he was talking too much, trying to cover any residual embarassment from his earlier faux pas. "She doesn't make boots though - there is a man in the village who does that - I don't think she really likes sewing at all much... but she does like gardens" he added, and it occured to him, that his mother was much happier outside the house than in it. He did not analyse the realisation further but picked up the plates and things they had used.

"We better take these back to the kitchen - I suppose you know everyone here" he added looking around, " ....and all the ones who have gone away. I hope they will be back soon." Elfthain hoped he would not have to leave before he could get to hear about all that had happened and tried to calculate how long it would be before he was looked for.