The White Horse Inn, Act III

[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]

Loud voices could be heard through the front door of the inn.

"Now don't be thinking that your long legs are going to take you beyond the reach of my voice that easily, Master Big Trouble of the Gap!"

"I would not think it possible that I could be so easily rid of you, Master Falco!"

The door opened. A tall, blonde Rohirrim walked in, followed by one of the Holbitla, who had a pipe in his mouth, which did not keep him from saying aplenty. The Holbitlan looked around as they walked in.

"Is this the best you've got, Master Eodwine? Why, seven out of ten inns in the Shire would put this place to shame for warmth and comfort! Where is everybody?"

"I know not. But it is warm enough compared to outside, and soon enough we shall have bellies full of hot food and good beer."

"Ah! That's more like it! But all the tables and chairs are too high!"

"I am sorry, Master Falco, but the Holbitla pass this way seldom enough that Rohan does not cater to the odd chance that one might appear any day of the week."

"You must quiet calling me a whole bit, see, or I'll give you something to curl your tongue around. I'm a Hobbit, not a whole bit!"

Though the halfling's words were sharp, his tone was playful, and Master Eodwine grinned. "Hobbit it is then. Would you like me to lift you into a chair, my friendly unfriend?"

"Keep your oversized hands off of me! I'll scramble up myself before I'll let some Big Trouble handle me like one of their toddlers! Ah well. If I have to stand on this chair, then I must."

"Perhaps we can convince the barkeep to find a few tomes for you to sit on."

Eodwine and Falco waited for service, having noticed that the only two other people in the great room were busy in conversation. Eodwine knew one of them for the innkeeper, Bêtheberry, but the other he did not know. He intended to greet them both as soon as they finished their talk.

[Bêthberry]

There had been a problem with the chimney in the room which Bethberry had shown Saeryn. Perhaps the wood was damp, or the wind particularly strong blowing down the flue, but at first neither Aedre the maid nor Bethberry had been able to get the fire roaring. Each had taken turns stoking and poking the fire and each in turn became wreathed with the aroma of wood smoke. It was not an unpleasant smell, but the air did become thick. Saeryn was beginning to wonder if this really was the fabled White Horse Inn, but, finally, with much use of tinder and the bellows, the fire caught. Bethberry opened the shutters slightly to allow the sooty air to waft out, taken in violent gusts by the early winter wind, and so soon the room was returned to a respectable level of clean air. Bethberry threw in a handful of herbs and soon their aroma replaced that of cinders.

"Well now," she said to her guest. "Are you sure you will want to stay? Such an ornery fire might prove troublesome."

Saeryn laughed and coughed a bit to clear her throat of the final bit of smokey ash and assured Bethberry she would stay and so the Innkeeper left Aerdre with the responsibility of preparing the hot water for the bath. This was one bath that would not inspire a song unless it be an ironic one.

With that, Bethberry returned to the Great Hall, anxious as the closer she approached to the Great Hall, the louder could voices be heard. Indeed, The Horse had new guests! Well, not new. She knew one of them as an old acquaintance but the other, well. Clearly she was going to have to do something to make him more comfortable with the Horse.

"Eodwine, greetings on a blustery day! And you have brought company I see."

"Uncomfortable company, Madam," retorted the smaller one, standing tall in the chair with a haughty regard.

"Oh, yes, I see. You do appear to have the wrong aspect of your anatomy upon the chair."

Eodwine gave a chortle and Bethberry called for Maercwen to bring some ale, cheese and bread for the guests.

"Are you having a fling abusing guests?" retorted the halfling.

"I bet your pardon?" queried Bethberry.

"You appear to have just returned from burning that nice young girl at the stake." The halfling fluttered his hand towards Bethberry's hair, which indeed still did carry the aroma of smoke and ash.

Bethberry choked back a noise something between a chortle, grin and gasp. Perhaps she still had some dust or ash caught in her throat.

"No, I was able to sacrifice an oak instead," retorted the Innkeeper with mock seriousness.

"Master Falco, I must remind you to keep a civil tongue in your cheek," interjected Eodwine.

"My tongue is firmly where it belongs, thank you very much. But the other parts of me are not."

"Allow me, then," said Bethberry with a flourish, skipping quickly off to the Word Hoard and returning with several stuffed pillows, "to relieve you. We certainly don't intend to make it a habit to give hobbits standing orders."

Falco snorted his clear sense of impropriety in the matter but accepted the pillows without much futher loss to his dignity.

"Eodwine, what else would you and your friend like to order? Some hot food?" queried Bethberry, deciding that the best way to placate the hobbit was to put food in his belly, quickly.

[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.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

With a final assurance to the maid, Aedre, of her satisfaction, Saeryn was allowed to close the door to her newest home. Tears of mirth lit her eyes as they rested on the dancing fire.

Piling her smoky clothing and boots neatly on the floor, Saeryn climbed into her bath, savouring the feel of the hot water on her skin. Several times she dozed until she finally, clean and content, gave up on soaking and redressed with the idea of a post dinner snack.

Her clean clothes flattered Saeryn as her others had not. As she padded back to the Great Hall, the black breeches, equally functional, but of better make than the brown, worked with her soft crimson tunic to hug the girl's slender figure. Her long, damp tresses were currently held the unwilling hostages of a well-meaning braid.

Her exhausted body ordering her to bed, Searyn walked in the opposite direction of her room. Seeing two men beside Bethberry, Saeryn made to sneak away, not desiring to interrupt, but the Innkeeper beckoned her forward.

"I hope your bath suited you? I fear I must plead forgetfulness, m'dear, but what did you say your name was?"

"I didn't.... I am called Saeryn."

[Bêthberry]

OOC

Open a new keg! We have some new members of Rohan to celebrate.

Congratulations are due to Nuranar for founding and running the very successful game Wilderness, Weathertop, and Wild Things with the always-able Envinyatar. Welcome to full status in Rohan as Game Player and Game Founder, Nuranar!

From the same game we welcome Primrose Bolger and Saurreg as Game Players to Rohan. Good characterisations, cooperative work, and good ability to move the action forward, both you!

I also ought to commend current Rohan Gamers Envinyatar, Esgalhugwen, Fordim, Kransha, and Meneltarmacil for good work in this game as well.

I particularly enjoyed the very creative naming of characters in this game. Names can sometimes be difficult to create, but every one of the characters in this game was superbly named.

Come join some festivities at either of Rohan's glorious Inns!

Bêthberry,
Moderator for Rohan

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine rose. "Hail and well met, Saeryn. I am Eodwine of the Gap, one of King Eomer's messengers." He looked down at the still sitting Falco, then back to Saeryn. My friend here would rise from his table also, but his is the unhappy lot of being a Holbitla with legs too short to stand up on."

"Unhappy lot! Legs too short!" Falco stood on his pillows. "You're an overgrown dandy with a tongue so silver it gives you a bad after taste! At my expense no less!" He turned to the maiden and bowed. Master Falco Boffin of the Shire at your service, my fair lass. Won't you join us? We'd love to share board with you, soon as we get some vittles and beer for our empty stomachs." He glanced meaningfully at Bêthberry.

[Bêthberry]

Bethberry peered over at Master Falco's tankard. It was none too full.

"It would seem you already have a leg up on the one item," she observed with every effort at a straight face.

"Aye, and not a short one either," replied Eodwine, with just as straight a face.

"Well, the long and the short of it is," interjected Saeryn. " that some throats need a clear rinse to remove any smokey particles that might have lodged therein."

Bethberry coughed at this. And then coughed again.

"May I be of service?" inquired Eodwine. He leaned over the table and with aplomb and a flourish produced a napkin with which he began to rub a sooty black mark off the Innkeeper's cheek.

"Well I say, there's a cheeky rub," observed Master Falco. "You intend to work for your dinner, do you?"

Whereupon the Innkeeper coughed harder, this time with a laugh to cover the event, as she took up the napkin herself.

"It's all a matter of timing," replied Master Eodwine with an arched frown at the halfling.

"Time I called Maercwen out here to tend to your dinner." replied the Innkeeper, attempting to restore some dignity to the occasion.

"Master Eodwine and Master Falco, and Mistress Saeryn, what say you to these comestibles and potables?

"Leek and chicken pie, in cream sauce."
"Rabbit ragout with raisins and neeps."
"Braised mushrooms with onions and wine."
"Rohan pudding with beef drippings."
"Black rye bread to be dipped in oil."

"Oh, I say yes," replied Folco, somewhat glassy eyed at the thought.

"Very well then. Frodides will prepare that for tomorrow's dinner."

An appreciable loss of enthusiasm seemed voiced on the air as three people attempted to hide their frustrated appetites by swalowing air.

"Tonight it shall be bean and spinach soup, with stuffed salmon and corn pudding, followed by apple cobbler. I believe that is what Frodides has prepared."

"And I suppose you will serve that with coffee," murmered a disgruntled Falco.

"Only if you insist. The Big Folk are free to have dark stout or lager," intoned the Innkeeper. "Or perhaps you would prefer carrot juice?"

Certain faces turned livid with this while others broke out into broad grins.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Masters Falco and Eodwine, I am honored to join you, but I must warn: I have already dined on a sumptuous meal under the watchful eye of the Innkeeper. However... I would be ingratiated to you once again, Bethberry, if you could provide me with another flagon of cider? Spirits tend to leave me rather ill."

Saeryn sunk into the beginnings of a curtsy before remembering that her only gown was packed away in her bags. She stumbled before catching herself and sweeping into a dramatic bow. She grinned, unabashed, at the two males in front of her. She hesitated to think 'men', even to herself, for fear of accidentally insulting her new holbytla companion. Her desire for bed had completely evaporated at these friendly faces.

An expression of youthful curiousity played in the light against Saeryn's eyes. A hobbit? Here in Rohan?

"Master Folco, if you'll allow for a girl's curiosity, how came you to Rohan? I must admit to surprise... I have never before seen a halfling." At least not in these parts. Saeryn added silently. Stop thinking of that! She reminded herself. The past is the past.

[littlemanpoet]

Falco grinned with delight.

"Oh no, now you have done it," said Eodwine, "asking Falco for a story. We'll be here all night."

Falco scowled at him. "You, my lanky lout, have no appreciation for a good story, even when you're in it!"

Saeryn couldn't help a grin of amusement spreading on her face, and covering her mouth with her hand, made as if to cough.

"Oh no," Eodwine rolled his eyes, "not that one."

"Of course, that one! It's the one that answers the lady Saeryn's question!"

Eodwine raised a hand in mock surrender and sighed hugely. "All right, all right. Just let me drown my wits first."

"Your wits have been drownded since before I ever met you," Falco retorted. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes! In answer to your question, lady Saeryn-" the hobbit stopped to take a long pull from his ale, and then took a deep breath.

"Here we go again," Eodwine mumbled.

"I saved this poor wretch's life."

"Oh! Did you!" Saeryn exclaimed.

"That he did," Eodwine said. "And he will never let me forget it. I have heard him tell the tale more times than I can count."

"It's a good tale!" Falco insisted.

"And grows with each telling," Eodwine commented into his mug.

"It does no such thing! Now, before my ungrateful cohort interrupts yet again, it all began one fair summer day back in the Shire...."

[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.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Peering down the hall, Saeryn padded quickly but silently to the kitchen. Leave me out of the action she thought... Not bleedin' likely. The men-folk had come into the girl's room and without a yay or nay, escorted Saeryn, please and thank you, to her room where she was to "Sleep herself out, there's a lass, and have no worry over the girl." The men-folk would take care of it all. Well not if I have anything to say of it. See them have an adventure without me!

Begging a hot drink off a sleepy maid, Saeryn splashed her face with cold water, shivering excitedly as she returned to full consciousness. Retreating to her room, Saeryn changed into battle-friendly clothes. It would not do to ruin my best breeches, or to risk tearing this tunic. She pulled a pair of brown leggings from her bags and matched it with a thigh-length tunic of moss green. A light leather vest covered her, and her belt she slung across her hips, hooking her sword and dagger to it. Saeryn left her boots off. No good to draw unwanted attention... "Now miss, it's back to bed with you" without a word of "Can you help?". Well I certainly can.

Unfastening her hair tie, Saeryn pulled her braid loose with her fingers, tightly rebraiding and coiling her auburn locks. A few tendrils framed her face, unwilling to stay back. Even tired, Saeryn was beautiful. She slid the door open a bit, glancing down the hall. The men had nearly reached the end.

Quietly, Saeryn followed, boots in hand, her stockinged feet making no more noise then the smallest of cats. As the men walked through the doorway, Hama glanced behind. Saeryn swore as his hand lightly tapped Eodwine's shoulder.

"Miss, you should--"

Gesturing hurriedly for silence, Saeryn ran to the group. "Please sirs, if Bethberry and Ruthven knew I was up they would fuss so."

"Yes m'lady Saeryn, and for good reason. Ye should be resting."

I'll give you a rest. she thought impatiently. "M'lord Eodwine, you do not understand. With your permission or without, I am going to follow you. I'd much prefer your blessing, but I do not need it. I will not be cosseted like a small child. I am coming." Seeing her resolve, Eodwine gave in. Falco, about to speak, was silenced by a hand on the shoulder and an almost imperceptible head shake by Hama. Saeryn smiled her gratitude as the company turned and continued on its mission. Falco and Eodwine leading, Saeryn fell behind with Hama. She looked up at him.

"You were not in the Hall last night, nor did anyone make mention of you." she commented softly. "You are a friend, I presume, or Eodwine would not have you privy to these happenings, but... who are you?"

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Hama raised an eyebrow, this was what happened when you didn't hang around after you got made a general. He murmered softly into Saeryn's ear,

"Miss, Eodwine and I fought many battles together. We both fought at Helm's Deep, both fought at Pelennor Fields and both at the Black Gate itself. It's a wonder we're both still alive. After the war, I came home with Eodwine, to find that both our families had been burnt and destroyed by the dunlendings in our absence. I lost a mother, a father, a wife, two sons and a daughter. I fled, in grief, to the Shire, where I met the daughter of general Dorian Heart, we soon received news of Dorian Hearts death, and I rode back here to Edoras. Eomer bestowed upon me Dorian's place as general of the West Fold, and you don't know who I am?"

Saeryn blushed, she was amazed that he could talk about his family's deaths so dispassionately, but she assumed that it was simply Rohan stoicism.

"I...didn't know..." she managed to say quietly,

"I know, lass." Said Hama, patting her shoulder gently...

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

The general patted Saeryn's shoulder gently, almost condescendingly. She looked up at him. He'd lost his family in a worse way than Saeryn had. How brave he had been, fighting to protect his family, only to return with them lost. My own family is simply... strewn.

"I am so sorry, m'lord. Had I known--" she whispered.

"But you didn't, and so you need beg no pardon." Hama's hand found her's and squeezed it gently, releasing quickly. "No harm, no foul, m'dear."

"Aha!" cried Falco. "The ruffians have been here!" They had reached the doors. About the handles were rough scratches, as though gouged with a dagger. The earth before the doors was pounded flat.

[peral]

Her footfalls were light and were barely heard, even in the relatively empty Common Room. It was still early she considered, probably why there weren't many people sitting at the tables eating. It was rare that she found an opportunity to come to the inn and have a breakfast alone with her thoughts. With an ailing father who was unable to do most things for herself, most people would call her thoughtless and uncaring to leave him so she could pamper herself with a breakfast that she hadn't cooked for herself. However, he had assured her that he had been feeling find that morning and that she should go out and treat herself to an already cooked meal. She had had her doubts and misgivings about leaving him alone, but the prospect of an hour or two of freedom was too tempting and beautiful for her to have turned down. So, now here she was, in the White Horse Inn for the first time in about half a year.

As she sat down she called for some ham and eggs. It was unbelievable to her that someone actually heard her, for she was usually very soft-spoken and hated to raise her voice even to call for some much-needed sustenance. When the breakfast was finally set down before her, she dug into it with such enthusiasm and vigour that even the two huge men sitting beside her - who had ignored her until then - stared at her with great amazement and slight bewilderment. However, the food was so delicious to her lips that even the stares didn't stop her from digging into the breakfast and eating it with relish. But even as she leant over her food, the necklace around her neck slipped out from underneath her dress. On the sparkling blue surface of the pendant was engraved a name in the most stunning silver - Ayeth.

[littlemanpoet]

"Ayeth? Is that your name, lass?" asked one of the two big men at the girl's table. "What be you a doing out alone?"

The girl chewed and swallowed her mouthful before answering in a quiet voice. "My pa bade me go and break my fast with a meal cooked by other hands."

"Ah, is that the way of it?" Said the second one. "And who's your pa?"

"I am sorry, sirs," she said meekly, "but may I know your names?"

"Harreld, you lout," said the first man. "You don't go asking about others' folks before you give your own name."

"I haven't heard you give yours yet, Garreth!"

Garreth turned to the girl. "Well, there you have it, lass. I am called Garreth, and this here is Harreld. We are brothers and we are smiths here in town. Perhaps you've heard of us?" Ayeth shook her head, and noticed for the first time that they were a rather burnished pair of men. "No? Ah well, no matter. So who's your pa?"