The White Horse Inn, Act III

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The old man burst into the Inn with more speed and energy than any who knew him could have expected. He stood stock still in the entrance for a moment, his eyes taking in the occupants of the Mead Hall, but his furrowed brow indicated that whomever he sought was not there. He turned to the Innkeeper. “Good Mistress Aylwen, where is my student Hearpwine?” he asked breathlessly.

Aylwen, who had only just that moment been addressed by Bêthberry, took a moment to collect herself. “Master Eorcyn,” she replied as courteously as she could in the face of his rather abrupt manner, “I do not know. I have myself only just now returned from a long journey. Perhaps Bêthberry, who was looking after the Inn during my absence…” but she did not get a chance to finish, for Eorcyn was already rushing to Bêthberry’s side. Paying no heed to Sigurd and Osric (whom he somewhat pointedly ignored), he asked the woman if she knew where Hearpwine had gone. Bêthberry returned his gaze coolly – she was clearly not a woman who enjoyed being interrupted but for the sake of his high place in the Hall she would overlook it. “I believe that he went out riding with young Gomen,” she said.

“Riding!” Eorcyn acted as though Hearpwine had sought to inconvenience him personally. “But I must speak with him! He said that he would come here to sleep today, and now he is out riding? Perhaps I have not been working him as hard as I thought.”

“You have been working him much harder than I think is required, Eorcyn,” came the reply. This brought the old man up short, for he was unused to people taking such a tone with him, particularly since his elevation at the Contest. He gazed at Bêthberry in amazement, but the angry retort died on his lips as he looked at her. Something in her eye seemed to forbid him his hasty words.

“I am sorry, Mistress Bêthberry,” he said, “but it is urgent that I speak with my pupil. Do you know when he will return?”

“I am afraid I do not. But perhaps Maercwen will know. I saw her speaking with Gomen about the ride.”

“Thank you, lady. Thank you very much.” Eorcyn surprised himself with the ingratiating courtesy of his response, but he did not have time to wonder on it long. With as much speed as his aged body could manage he sought out Maercwen in the kitchens, where he surprised her with her arms half immersed in the washing-up tub. As she wiped her soapy hands on her apron, she listened open mouthed to the Master Bard’s explosion of words.

“Miss Maercwen, I have been sent to find Hearpwine and bid him be ready, but I find that he is not here. He told me that he meant to seek his bed this day, so I assured them that I could deliver their message without delay, but now I have found that he is on a ride – a ride, no less! – and not here at all. Oh dear, oh dear, this is most unfortunate, most unfortunate. The party is set to depart and have demanded his presence, but if he is gone from the City how am I to bring him where he is bid to come, and I am ordered to bring him…”

“Master Eorcyn,” Maercwen cried, stopping the flood with a gesture. “Please, speak more slowly, for I cannot understand you. You say that you have been sent to bring Hearpwine somewhere, and you cannot find him. That much I can help you with, although I fear you will not like the answer. Hearpwine has taken my brother riding in the hills and they will not be back for several hours. Now, if you can take that news with some patience, please tell me what it is you need him for.”

Eorcyn sat in a small chair at the kitchen table and laid his head upon his hand. “Oh dear, it is as I feared. What shall I tell them?”

“Tell who?”

“Why, the Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn of course. They have sent me to tell Hearpwine that he must make his farewells, for they are bound for Ithilien this very day!”

[Orofaniel]

"Farewells?"

How so, Aedre wondered. But then she realised what the old bard had just said; Hearpwhine would leave for Ithilien, together with Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn. She gazed at him, but said naught, because the words wouldn't come any further than her tongue. "Will, you excuse me," Aedre muttered while shoving her hands down in her apron. She hurried out from the kitchen and out in the common room.

"Aedre, will you not tell me why Eocryn needs to speak with Hearpwine so urgently?" Mistress Bethbery cried as she saw Aedre coming out from the kitchens. Aedre eyed her, and walked towards her. Yet her legs seemed not to follow her wish, and she stumbled. Luckily she managed to stay on her feet. Aedre was very much confused as she saw that Aylwen, the Innkeeper, had returned.

"Oh dear! It's Aylwen!" Aedre exclaimed as she saw her, as she almost had forgotten about Bethberry. "You have returned!" Aedre continued now embracing Aylwen. "Indeed," Aylwen said as they let go of each other. "I wouldn't have expected you to be back this early. But please, do not misunderstand; I am delighted to see you," she said and curtsied. "Thank you Aedre," Aylwen said and smiled at her. The vague, but kind expression in her face was ever so beautiful.

"Oh, who gave you those wonderful flowers?" Aedre said, as she spotted the colourful flowers in Aylwen's hands. "Oh, these..?" Aylwen said, while looking at them. Her small nose then fell slightly down in the blossoming bloom. "Mereflod and Motan gave them to me...from the garden," she said, lifting her head up, looking at Bethberry. Aedre smiled weakly as she eyes Bethberry's expression; she had quite forgotten about Bethberry's question. Oh, how ashamed she was.

"I'm terribly sorry Bethberry," she said and blushed. "I quite forgot when I eyed Aylwen. I got carried away in my own thoughts...how foolish of me," she said and bowed her head. "Master Eorcyn rushed into the kitchen to ask Mae where to find Master Hearpwine, who is also his pupil.......but I'm sure you all knew that," Aedre said nervously looking at Bethberry once again.

“Yes indeed, he came rushing into the Inn...seeking Master Hearpwine I told him to seek the kitchens and Mae,” Bethberry nodded and narrowed her eyebrows as she was waiting for Aedre to continue. Aedre sighed deeply; ”As I said, he was looking for Hearpwine. Mae told him that Hearpwine was out taking Gomen for a ride upon the hills and that she didn't expect him to be back before several hours..." Aedre said and looked anxious.

"I do not understand Aedre," Bethberry said shaking her head. "I do tend to confuse, don't I?" Aedre said full of despair. "I'm afraid that, although, Aylwen whom all of us have missed, has returned to us, Master Hearpwine, with his merry songs, will depart to serve the Lord and the Lady in Ithilien...." Aedre then finished.

Aywlen gazed, feeling utterly confused. "But - Aedre, are you sure that was exactly what Eorcyn said?" She asked her while her eyes turned to Bethberry.

”They, Lady Eowyn and Lord Faramir, have sent me to tell Hearpwine that he must make his farewells, for they are bound for Ithilien this very day!” – “Those where his exact words, if my memory does not fail me,” Aedre said while frowning. “Although, since Master Eocryn was speaking in such a fast manner, some may have passed me unnoticed,” Aedre said hoping for the first time, that it was indeed what had happened.

[Kransha]

The interruptions were more than enough to sever Sigurd’s train of thought, as this conversation was losing interest in him, or vice versa, he wasn’t entirely sure. At the moment, he was perfectly content to chuckle smugly at the wildly moving old fellow who darted up to Bethberry, yelled something so rushed and so garbled that Sigurd caught none of the escaping words that had pried his mouth open, and rushed away in a fiery motion, though it looked very awkward from afar. Osric, though, was unimpressed and focused, while the sudden arrival of Eorcyn only caused him to shudder involuntarily. That day, in a brisker, colder season, under these very hanging banners that rippled, swaying gently in the breeze that wafted in through open windows, he’d made his manner of amends with the man, but never got over their verbal fallout. The sight of him, though, was just enough to snap him into readiness and, as one of the serving maids, or holder of some position Sigurd didn’t want, named Aerdre, arrived, he spoke abruptly.

“Will you excuse us, Bethberry?” He questioned, managing a polite smile. Bethberry was looking now at Aerdre, listening to what she had to say, but still nodded back at the two. “Yes, of course.” She murmured, obviously more engrossed in whatever Miss Aerdre was telling her. Ignoring that fact, and the perturbed air that now permeated the inn, Osric took a firm hold of Sigurd’s shoulder and spun him foolishly about until both men were hunched over with their backs to the rest of the discoursing folk. “Many thanks.” The old man shot over his shoulder before pulling Sigurd close and beginning to speak, in a voice whose volume was barely an octave above a whisper.

“Sigurd, it is a good offer,” he muttered quietly, reservedly, “and you would be hard-pressed to find another like it.” His eyes were aflame and his usually whitened pallor incendiary by either the excitement of the situation or massive frustration at it. He looked into Sigurd’s eyes as an uncle should, with vague concern for him, but Sigurd shot back with the gaze of a battle-weary serpent, too tired to do any harm, but willing to lash out if anything got too close. “Uncle, I know it is a good offer.” He snapped suddenly.

Osric stared at him, mouth agape again. Where did the willingness spring from? What was Sigurd, the lad who’d been so uncontrollable, so untamable, doing just letting this happen? Did he want truly to work at the Horse? Osric’s face, which was now colorless with a jaw flailing up and down as noiseless words ushered from above it, found a voice. “You…you do?”

“Yes, yes I do,” Sigurd shot back, with equal venom in him, “and I’m going to take it as soon as you let go of my shoulder.” Osric involuntarily yanked his complacent hand from where it had sat on Sigurd’s shoulder, unfurling around the boy’s back and coming to rest limply at his side. “Are you sure? There are other options, other paths that cannot be taken.” His voice, this whole time, was riddled with disbelief, his throat groping for more air as he felt he might choke on his own words, or have to swallow them too soon.

“You were the one most keenly set upon me being here, so do not try and discourage me now.” The boy replied harshly, again causing Osric to shrink away. He was getting older, descending into old age, and Sigurd was getting older, but ascending into an age where, in maturity and prowess, he could challenge his uncle. It was hard enough to act like a father figure, but in this circumstance, it seemed harder still. Reluctantly, Osric nodded, as if he was defeated somehow. “No…you’re right.”

And so, he turned again, looking brighter and happier, ready to reach out and grab this new quarry where it stood and waited. Osric turned with him, and the two of them looked upon those who had apparently congregated just behind them as the spoke so softly, whispering in their own conspiratorial way. Not paying attention to the finale of the currently escalating conversation, he intoned loudly, “Alright, Bethberry, my decision is made.” There was no response, for all those in the vicinity looked more befuddled, and paled by some ill happenstance which Sigurd and Osric knew not of. They looked, each individually, from Betberry, to Aerdre, to any and all others who had materialized rather unceremoniously in a counseling circle around them, which they’d both been assimilated into, unbeknownst to them. Osric, trying not to be rude, spoke up on the subject. “What? What is it?”

Aerdre responded first. “Hearpwine must depart for Ithilien this day…I think.” She added the final words as something of an afterthought, as if she knew, but wanted no one else to know that she knew. In truth, she seemed half-uncertain, but that uncertainty might be no more than hopefulness that she was uncertain. No matter what the case, the words she said caused Osric and Sigurd to lapse into the same uncomfortable silence that had enveloped everyone else.

[Aylwen Dreamsong]

Things had gone all to quickly from warm greetings with the children, preparing to speak with Bethberry, hasty questioning, and chaos had all too quickly taken over the Inn. The children had become lost to Aylwen in the hustle and bustle, and soon several of the patrons and employees of the Inn had gathered together to listen to what Aedre had to say, all of them hoping that the confusion would be cleared. From the split second explanations of more than one person, Aedre finally concluded that Hearpwine had been summoned to leave for Ithilien. Mae came from the kitchens, as dazed and confused as everyone else, if not more so. Eorcyn followed her out of the kitchens and to the big group. Everyone chattered and argued, making noise and giving headaches.

"Wait! Wait just a minute!" Aylwen cried, waving her hands for silence. Gradually everyone quieted, waiting for Aylwen to continue. "Thank you. Now...we need to get things straight for a moment. Most importantly, I suppose we need to find Hearpwine. This is true, Master Eorcyn? I have heard so much talk I am not certain if I have heard correctly the situation."

"Yes, yes! I need to find Hearpwine. He has been summoned to go with his Lord and Lady to Ithilien this very day," Eorcyn replied frantically, moving his hand to his forehead in despair.

"But he is out! He shall not return for several hours," Mae intervened. Aylwen sighed, and Eorcyn's face became paler by the minute. "I fear there are little means to go out and find two young men off on an afternoon ride."

"Master Eorcyn, may I enquire as to why Hearpwine was not informed of this departure?" Aylwen asked politely. On the outside she kept her face patient and her body language calm. Inwardly, Aylwen panicked at the state of chaos the White Horse had undergone.

[Nurumaiel]

When Eorcyn had run into the kitchen to say that Hearpwine would be leaving that day for Ithilien, Maercwen was at first puzzled, and then her eyes widened in horror and her heart seemed to stop. Her first thought was that Eorcyn must be mad, but as she looked into his eyes she knew he was entirely sane and that Hearpwine would indeed be leaving that day. She murmured some words of how she hoped he would be back soon to comply to the wishes of the Lord and Lady, and then sunk into the shadows when Aylwen took the situation in hand.

It was impossible that Hearpwine could be going away. When she reflected upon the months since he had arrived at the Inn, and the merry times they had had together, she could not imagine before her the Inn without Hearpwine. Who would sing them cheery songs as the sun set and the day darkened? Who would inspire Gomen to be a bard with every word of song that escaped him? Who, then, would delight the children with stories? And who would delight her? Maercwen felt she could not understand this, but she knew Hearpwine, who she had come to consider as a brother, would be leaving in a few hours. And she could not help but hope that he would not be found until the Lord and Lady returned to Ithilien after futile searches. It was selfish, she realized, for Hearpwine would be joyous over the occasion of his leaving and sorrowful if this chance were missed, but she hoped it all the same.

Leofan had wandered into the Inn to notify Bethberry that he would be absent for awhile as he attempted to find one more learned in horses than even he to set the broken leg of the horse, but when he heard Aylwen's questions and the answers of Eorcyn he took in immediately what was happening and motioned to Giefu, ordering him to ride and seek out a skilled horsemaster. He noticed the confused state the White Horse was in and sensed that Aylwen was disturbed at it. She hid it admirably, but he had seen the faint look in her eyes many times in the past fourteen years. He cleared his throat and spoke.

"Miss Aylwen, I would beg you to allow me to ride out on the stallion Mihtig to see if I can find Hearpwine," he said.

Aylwen seemed grateful for his offer, but doubtful still. "I thank you, Leofan," she said, "but as it has been pointed out, it would be no easy task to find them."

"That is why I choose Mihtig," said Leofan. "I have always found that horses have more common sense than is often said of them, but Mihtig is especially wise and sensible. Hearpwine's steed Hrothgar and my own Mihtig have become good friends in the past few months, and I would trust Mihtig to find Hrothgar in some way."

Aylwen still looked doubtful, but she nodded her assent. Leofan bowed slightly and then turned to address Maercwen and Aedre, though he spoke loud enough for all in the room to hear. "Lassies," said he, "there is still work to be done in the kitchen, I think. I would bid you worry no longer about Hearpwine. I will find him soon, and he will be brought here. In fact," he added with a smile, for he knew Hearpwine's dreams, "I do not believe I could keep him away." With another bow, he departed, and only a few minutes had passed before Mihtig with Leofan atop could be seen out the front window, cantering speedily in the direction that Hearpwine and Gomen had gone.

[Bêthberry]

It was unbelievable.

Bethberry stood in the Mead Hall, watching patrons wander at will into the kitchen, watching the kitchen staff wander into the Mead Hall in order to gossip, watching Eorcyn and Osric take offense with each other's company, watching her Stablemaster take off with the best horse and abandon his labours in the stable, watching Aylwen stare at events with horror at the flustered staff. All this over a romantic young singer who had seemingly charmed everyone in the Horse.

It was like, well, like... She struggled to find some kind of analogy. She tried various words out. Farcical. Risible. Ridiculous. Comical. Absurd. Silly. Hearpwine seemed to have made his fate and life everyone's concern. It was as if the entire Horse revolved around this young man and this young man only. It was quite extraordinary. Give a person a bit of attention, make him or her feel as if the sun shines for them alone, and they're hooked. Bethberry shook her head.

Well, not that that was particularly fair to the young minstrel. He was good hearted indeed. It was just amazing how everyone fell to his attentions. He was a pied piper, ready to grant every person his or her dreams.

That's it! Bethberry decided. Pied piper. She giggled to herself. She knew there was an old tale to be found in his character. Where would it all end, she wondered.

She bore him no grudges, of course, and rather liked him herself, but she did wish that others were not forgotten in all the uproar. What had happened to the old blind man? The sad mother with child? She looked over at Osric and Sigurd. Sigurd's face was red but his eyes were keen. He was watching the girls come and go into the kitchn.

Bethberry wondered if he felt such concern at Hearpwine's departure and, grinning to herself, decided not, most likely. Hmm. She would have to try to gain Aylwen's attentions somehow and return the conversation to the topic of his employment.

"Perhaps," she announced to every one assembled, "We should call out the cavalry in order to find our young minstrel."

The people in the Mead Hall stared at her, blinking their eyes. They weren't quite sure if she was joking or not. Bethberry rather liked it that way.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

"Master Eorcyn, may I enquire as to why Hearpwine was not informed of this departure?"

Aylwen’s question annoyed Eorcyn, for he was greatly distracted by his student's disappearance. “The decision to leave was only just made,” he snapped at her. “Early this morning a post-rider arrived from Ithilien and went immediately into council with the King, the Lord Faramir and the Lady Éowyn. They conferred for but a scant hour before the Lord and Lady emerged and ordered that their retinue make ready to leave with all possible speed. When it was found that Hearpwine was no longer at the Hall I was sent to fetch him.” He decided not to reveal that he had assured the nobles that his student was on an errand for him. He had not wanted to admit to the Lady Éowyn that Hearpwine had left to get sleep, for Eorcyn was afraid that the Lady might not approve of how hard he had been driving his pupil.

“But whatever is the matter in Ithilien?” demanded Oscric.

“Is it an orc attack?” asked Aedre, her terror palpable. “Have the monsters come out of Mordor again?”

Osric scowled both at Aedre and at Sigurd, whose face had taken on an expression of alarm at the thought of a marauding horde of orcs. “Nay, ‘tis not orcs. The last of their foul kind was driven from Mordor by the armies of Gondor and Rohan, and there is an eternal watch kept upon the Black Lands.”

“Perhaps its trolls. Or invading Haradrim,” ventured Sigurd.

It was Bêthberry who replied this time. “It is neither servant nor ally of the Nameless Enemy who threatens the fair lands of Ithilien,” she said. Those gathered about waited, expecting the woman to say more, for she seemed to have some idea of what was afoot, but she remained quiet. It was Aylwen who broke the silence, “So Hearpwine is to leave then.”

Eorcyn sighed, “Yes mistress, he is.”

It was then that Leofan entered and formulated his plan to seek out Hearpwine in the hills about Edoras, and while Eorcyn had little hope that the young man could be found, he was glad that at least some effort was being taken to find him. As soon as the stablemaster had departed, Eorcyn asked Aedre if she could bring him a small flagon of ale, and he slumped at Bêthberry’s side, awaiting the return of Hearpwine, or the inevitable summons from the Golden Hall – whichever came first.