The White Horse Inn, Act III

[Bêthberry]

A familiar brown and white falcon flies into the Tavern, with a scroll in his beak, which he drops near the Innkeeper's desk before flying out into the kitchen, where he sneaks a piece of raw meat left lying on the cutting board, and then flies swiftly out an open window before he can be caught.

The scroll is dutifully tacked up on the board for all to see:

All hail New Writers of the Mark!

Here ye all Rohirrim! You are bid welcome to Rohan as Game Players Arry, CaptainofDespair, and Firefoot who have successfully played to conclusion their first game in The Shire Well done!

And please congratulate Fordim Hedgethistle on his full status as Game Founder in Rohan. He is already itching to get a sequel to Land of Darkness going here in Rohan so watch for it.

The Perky Ent and Imladris are also preparing some entertainments for your gaming enjoyment. Coming some day soon to a thread near you.

Bêthberry,

[astarielle]

After being woken from a train of deep thought by a falcon flying in, Lianda realised she was meant to be answering a question. "Sorry, what did you say" she said hurridly and feeling rather embarassed.

Eodwine chuckled to himself, "I asked what other plans of yours have gone wrong"

"Ohhh, sorry, I went of into my own little world then. Well, when i was little i did intend to be a princess and live in a pink castle, but that obviouly hasn't worked out!"

They both laughed and after regaining her composure Lianda continued, "I planned to stay here forever, unless a chance to marry a prince came along of course, and live a trouble free life and marry a handsome man, nonef which has come to pass. Not saying they never will mind!"

She took a sip of her ale which mysteriously, in her opinion, had become less full than the last time she looked. She shrugged her shoulders and thought nothing of it, pints always have a habit of doing that when you least expect it.

[littlemanpoet]

"When I was a lad I dreamed of being a great warrior, a captain in the army of Prince Theodred." He shook his head. "I did not make captain, for which I am forever grateful to the rulers of fate, for then I would have been killed along with him early in the War." He shrugged and shook his head. "But enough somber talk! Do you like music? Or do you sing?"

"I would not boast of it, but I know a few tunes. Why? Do you play?"

"A harp! Which I handle almost as well as my ale!" Eodwine grinned and took a draught, half of which he spilled down his chin and neck, staining his shirt.

"Better, I hope!"

Eodwine wiped his mouth and chin on his sleeve, suddenly serious. "Forgive me, my head is addled. I am not given to such slovenliness. Would you hear my harp?"

[astarielle]

"I am of the opinion that this room needs a little livening up, wouldn't you agree?" Lianda asked cheerfully as the inn had become rather lifeless since the commotion with Eric.

"I'd have to agree with you on that one!" said Eodwine standing up and from, to Lianda, apparently nowhere revealing his harp. "Any requests, my lady?" He said coming over all gentlemanly, quite the contrary to what the ale was telling him to do, as ale has a habit of doing when you have drunk a fair amount.

Quite confidently Lianda replied "Surprise me, just as long as you make it a nice surprise, I don't care much for bad surprises but i do like surprises generally." Lianda was quite shocked she managed to string more than four words together, use more than monosyllabic words and not make it sound disjointed because of the ale, although she did admit there were a few too many 'surprises'. However, stopping herself thinking even more and therefore run the risk of confusing herself even more so, she took another swig of ale and left it at that.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine carefully set down his ale mug, and it still almost spilled, his hand was so clumsy, and he wondered how he could manage the harp's strings.

"I call this 'Heather'." His sang his simple song, his voice high and clear, and was surprised that his fingers seemed to know their way despite his muddled senses.

"Summer's heather warm and sweet,
Sun of Arda lights thee bright,
Lifted heads all do me greet,
Lilt thy voice in song so light.

"Fair in Autumn, heather small,
Faintly do I hear thee call;
Feel thee how thy blossoms fall?
Fail not during winter's pall.

"Lowly heather hid from sight,
Lay in shielding snowy white,
Safe from winter's shiv'ring bite,
Silent bide till warm spring bright.

"Field of heather growing green,
Filled with scent of rain in spring,
Washed with colors cool and clean,
Whispered words I hear thee sing.

"Sing! For winter fell has ended,
Call of heather comes once more!
Spring has come and wrong is mended!
Chilling death shall be no more!"

"That is my song, my surprise. I hope you liked it," said Eodwine, a tilted smile on his face.

[astarielle]

Currently at The White Horse Inn

It is late evening and a crowd has gathered. There is music and fellowship but melancoly as well as, fueled by sad memories of loss.

The old warrier Osric will seek a chair in the Great Hall, where the bards Eodwine and Korik compare notes on songs and tinker with their instruments. Maercwen helps her mother in the Kitchen while her younger siblings dance to the music with children's obliviousness to the memories of adults. A new comer, Lianda, joins the song while the nightwatchman Osric makes his rounds. Aylwen the Innkeeper is hidden away for the moment, doing an audit of the Inn's books for the day. They will soon be joined by the former Innkeeper, Bethberry

~~~~~
astarielle's post:

For a long time Lianda remained silent, musing over the words of Eodwine's song. She felt transported into a forest of green were shafts of shimmering light filtered throught the treetops, casting mosiacs on the floor of heather. Birds sung in the trees above, their voices rising and falling in time with the lilting of the harp. The breeze drifted into the grove, the leaves protesting all the way. The leaves turned a golden brown, shimmering in the light before gracefully falling to the ground; creating a carpet of gold. It wasn't long until the sweet voices faded to be replaced by the falling of snow, the bear branches offering little protection. Yet the heather, hardened by the years, clung stronly to the ground until the last of the snow had fallen and Lianda felt the warm sun on her back once more.

The fire was warm on her back as she awoke from her vision. People were talking and the dim light cast shadows on the ground. "That is my song, my surprise. I hope you liked it," said Eodwine, a tilted smile on his face. It was few seconds later that Lianda realised that someone was talking to her.

"Liking it is more of an understatement than ever," Lianda smiled, the warmth of happiness surrounding her, "for that I owe you a drink."

[Umwë]

The song that came from Eodwine made Umwë paralyzed. He sat, practically staring at Eodwine with and his eyes were filled with amusement. He felt how the happy atmosphere in the room rose to a level far beyond that he had ever felt, even back in his happy days in the golden forests of Lórien.

The song ended and Umwë smiled to Eodwine and he bowed towards him with honor and respect. He saw how Eodwine sat down again beside a woman again and they began talking again.

The hot midsommer air came flowing to Umwë and he really enjoyed his stay at the Inn. He sighed deeply of enjoyment and noticed how much people talked all around him and everybody seemed to have a good time.

Maybe I should take the initiative and join them, he thought and glanced over his shoulder at Eodwine and the woman beside him. He felt lonely and at this point when he was so happy and was in such a good mood, a bit of company wouldn't be wrong.

He sat and felt how he started to sweat. He was shy and didn't want to interrupt them both. He swallowed and stood up, but tottered a bit. He took a deep breathe and started walk towards them.

Here it goes, he thought, and when he stood in front of Eodwine and the woman he felt how he blushed.

"I-I..." he started. Oh no, come on Umwë, don't be so shy! "I would l-like to j-join you, if you don't mind?" he said and looked at them both. "By the way, my name is Umwë" he added and bowed quickly. He stood picking on his nails while awaited their reply.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"How I know of The Horse, you ask? Apart from rumours, (how I hope they are right!), of the legendary hospitality... my brother Fenrir stopped here some years back as he was passing through on his way to--" she suddenly broke off, her face flushing. "He stopped and gave a glowing recommendation." she finished rather lamely.

I cannot believe I almost told a complete stranger about Fenrir! Saeryn silently berated herself. I never even told Degas about that adventure... What the Innkeeper would think if she knew of that. I'll tell you what she would think, Saeri, she would think "Let's just ship this girl right back out the door!". Be. More. Careful.

Bethberry watched in fascination as the mysterious woman fell silent. First this woman, not long out of girlhood, had appeared, alone but for a horse, in the middle of the afternoon, on a day that any sane soul would stay indoors. She had then began to answer a simple question, only to stop dead when she uttered the name 'Fenrir'. Just who is this girl? wondered Bethberry.

"Strange chap, my brother." Saeryn added unblushingly as she sipped her cider a few moments later. "Red hair... rather quiet." She trailed into silence as she began her meal, blowing carefully on each well-seasoned spoonful of stew before placing it in her mouth.

On his way to where, I wonder, thought the Innkeeper. And I still don't know her name or her business... Not, of course, that I must know everything, Bethberry quickly corrected herself with a grin.

Finishing her ragout, Saeryn arose at last, weary legs soon to give out beneath her. Wrinkles creased her brown breeches. Her hairpins had long since lost their battle, leaving the mass of loosely curled tresses to cascade down her back. "My room?" she asked.

"Ah, yes." smiled Bethberry. Beckoning, she led Saeryn away from the tables and through another door. "This way, m'dear. We'll get you fixed right up. Would you like to be awoken in the morning? Perhaps a breakfast brought to your room? Will you be staying long?" she added, perhaps as an afterthought, as she unfastened the heavy lock on an altogether heavier wooden door near the end of the hall.

"I thank you, but I shall simply invade the kitchens when I awaken." Saeryn answered with an impish gleam in her eye. "As for the length of my visit... I had hoped to stay for some time... I plan to journey north come spring, and I had counted on remaining in this area until then; that will not be a problem, I hope?"

[littlemanpoet]

"I shall leave that to you, Bethberry. I am sure you know best," said Eodwine.

"Master Eodwine, I'd think you were running for mayor!" said Falco. "Make a choice unless saying you've been here before was a fib to get me through the doors!"

"Nay, 'twas no fib my unfriendly friend. Bethberry herself can tell you I have been this way before."

"Aye, 'tis so," said Bethberry. "I would not go so far as to say he's a regular, but he's been through a time or two."

"There you have it, Master Falco!" Eodwine gestured broadly.

"Not a regular, eh? What ha' you been up to afore I rescued you from that mud hole?"

Eodwine's eyes went wide and his head came back in disbelief. "You rescued me? Not so! 'Twas I who rescued you!"

"Have it your way! What are we ordering, longshanks?"

"What is the best tonight, Bethberry?" Eodwine queried.

[littlemanpoet]

"How did you sleep, Miss Gudryn?" asked Eodwine. The lass looked at him briefly, then turned her staring attention back to Hama, who seemed every bit the slap-handed schoolboy under Ruthven's severe tutelage.

"Shush now," Ruthven scolded. "Let the poor girl eat."

Eodwine looked balefully at the old woman ... after she had taken her eyes off him and was watching the girl.

Falco chuckled and took his pipe out of his mouth. "It was you, Mizzuz Ruthven, as ordered us in here. What for if not to talk to the girl?"

"Don't you sass at me, you ... "

"You what? . . . Mizzuz?" Falco threw back at her, giving a wink to Saeryn, who sat on the far side of Gudryn's bed, nibbling on the last bites of her breakfast. It made Falco all the hungrier and irascible, not having had his first yet.

Ruthven had been about to say something about runts, but thought better of it when the hobbit's brow started to get thunderous. She knew Men well enough, but her edeecation on Hobbits was a might bit sketchy. Best to turn the manners just a bit to tweed with 'im.

"I was saying don't you sass at me, for I brought you in here so you could see the lass was well. And now 'tis time you saw after the prowlers last night."

Falco closed one eye and watched her suspiciously.

Eodwine spoke up. "The lady did speak of strange visitors last night."

"Ah yes," puffed Falco. "The Inn under attack."

"Tracks outside," Eodwine continued.

"Gouges at the door of the back ... where?" Falco looked questioningly to Ruthven.

"Near the kitchen, I told you," said Ruthven. "Someone tried to break in."

"Very well," said Eodwine. "Let us have a look at all these signs, the sooner accomplished, we can break our fast."

"And show Lady Saeryn to her bed while you're at it! She's been up all night, unlike you lalligags, and needs some rest."

Falco eyed Ruthven for having it both ways, as it were, but with a puff of his pipe, let it go. He turned to Saeryn. "Lady?" Saeryn got up without a word and took up the rear behind Falco and Hama, who followed Eodwine's long striding heels down the hall.

Ruthven's last imprication followed them down the hall. "Men! Always thinkin' on their stomachs!"

Falco wondered briefly about the giggling laughs that had followed the imprication, but thought no more of it. Best get this little bit of shirriffing done so as to get to first breakfast the sooner. Musn't let second breakfast run into lunch! No, that would never do.

They stopped off at Saeryn's room and saw her in with a please and a thank you, and a goodnight-even-though-it's-morning, and continued on their way.

[Nurumaiel]

The words of the song drifted into the kitchen where Maercwen still sat. She straightened in her chair, and then she stood. Slowly she went to the door, and she looked into the common room at the singer. Her eyes dimmed with tears, and she withdrew. The song made her think of the recently-departed Hearpwine, and also of her uncle Liornung. A sad little smile flitted across her face. She could imagine her uncle there, listening to the first verse of the song and then, with his skill, beginning to play it with his fiddle, adding harmonies of both low and high natures. She could not hope to see him again until spring, unless he desired to spend the winter within the warmth of the Inn. She would hope for that.

Within the common room, Deman and Fierlan, the twins of six years, stood, their faces bored and idle, but their eyes brightened at the song. Deman cast a scornful look at Mereflod and little Motan, who had begun to dance and laugh softly. They always danced when someone sang, even if the song were slow and sad. They spent their whole lives dancing, so it seemed. They stopped to eat occasionally, and to sleep, it was true, but mostly they danced, unless they were picking little flowers from their garden. Deman gave them one more look of scorn, and then he went with his twin to the stable.

When the song ended, little Motan gazed with wide eyes at the one who had performed. "Misser Hearpwine 'ooks odd," she said to her sister.

"That's not Hearpwine," said Mereflod, with a little titter. "That's someone else."

"No," little Motan insisted. "'E sings, just 'ike Misser Hearpwine, and 'e 'as a harp, too."

"Hearpwine isn't the only one who plays a harp," said Mereflod. "I tell you, Motan, that is someone else."

"Mayee," said Motan, "but 'e usn't pay the harp as 'ood as Misser Hearpwine."

"Maybe not," said Mereflod, "but neither does our uncle."

"Oh," said Motan, tossing her hair airily, "but no one plays the diddle as 'ood as Uncle 'Iornung."

"No," said Mereflod, "but Hearpwine doesn't play the fiddle very well, either."

They seemed to sense then that their conversation was just a little bit senseless, though at the same time they were unaware of the fact, and they left the building to make sure their garden was all right.

[littlemanpoet]

Lianda smiled. "For that I owe you a drink."

Eodwine raised a hand. "You owe me no such thing! If I have another, I think I will drift off to sleep where I sit!"

Lianda laughed. A man was walking toward them. No, he was an Elf. Eodwine tried to make himself become more sober. He was in awe of Elves. He was friendly with a few, but he felt as if he watched them from a great distance - - below - - even if he sat right next to one.

"I-I..." the Elf seemed to be a little wary. "I would l-like to j-join you, if you don't mind?" He looked at them both. "By the way, my name is Umwë." He bowed quickly, and awaited their reply.

Eodwine stood. "Well met, Umwë. I am Eodwine."

"I am Lianda."

"She is a seeker of pleasant surprises!" Eodwine added helpfully.

"Master Eodwine! If you please, I would speak for myself."

"Most sorry I am for that unpleasant surprise." He turned to Umwë. "I hope my little ditty did not disturb you."

Umwë shook his head, and seemed a little more at ease. "Oh, n-no! I found it q-quite delightful!"

"Thank you very much! Would you like to share a drink with us?"

"But you just turned down my offer!" Lianda protested.

Eodwine nodded. "And so I did, for I did not want to be an offensive lout in your presence by falling asleep and snoring before you! But with our new friend, Umwë here, there is a chance that I may remain awake long enough for my weary legs to find their way to my rooms."

"You are saying that I am boring," Lianda said through narrowed eyes, winking at Umwë, who watched the minor row with increasing fascination.

"Oh, no! I am saying that I would become lost in the contemplation of your beauty, and contemplation always puts me to sleep!"

Umwë allowed a grin to spread on his lips, as counterpoint to the half smile on the face of Lianda, whose hands had found her lips.

Eodwine was sure as the moon that he needed to change the topic right quick before he got into real trouble. "Server! Three ales as soon as you can! The best you have!"