Eorling Mead Hall

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Degas leaned against the doorway, propped carefully to look nonchalant. He eyed the girl until Eodwine coughed meaningfully. She turned an even deeper shade of red and Degas spoke, holding back a grin.

"Very pretty, I assure you. Your slender frame brings to mind the lovely swaying motion of a delicate lily in the early dawn air. Your eyes remind one of an impossibly deep ocean that one cannot help but fall into. Your light voice is reminiscent of the soft trill of a flute at the break of day and your cream skin is so flawless that I am amazed at its very existence, though at the moment, a very becoming shade of rose adorns your perfect cheeks. It utterly amazes me that such power and delicacy can be so easily mixed within one lady of the South. It is verily my pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He straightened from the doorway and bent now over her hand, raising it to brush with his lips. He looked up into her eyes, winking, and she looked away, the same vibrant shade of pink that he had so carefully described. Dropping her hand, he slung an arm around Eodwine's shoulder and led him away from the floored young woman.

"My congratulations to you, Lord of the Mark." he spoke to Eodwine as they walked toward the kitchen. "A posting well deserved. I would commend the king for it were I not afraid of the repercussions of my terribly bold statements. I'm sure you'll understand if I limit myself to mere genial thoughts sent toward his general direction? Also, Lord Eodwine, I must thank you for your kindness to my lady sister. She has told me what you have done for her and I am much indebted to you for it."

[Nerindel]

Æöelhild stood watching the rain run down the fogged pane of her window, her room was warmed by a fire that crackled brightly in the small hearth set into the right wall. She liked her room, although smaller than she had once been used to, she found it cosy enough and more comfortable than the cold stone or rough earth of the past years flight. From the window she could see the mead halls courtyard with the stables to the right and too the left the newly constructed canvas covering that was to be the temporary mead hall.

As she looked down on the stables she thought of the week gone by and of her new found friendship with the new Stable Master, Lëof. she admired his resolve and determination to earn a living enough for both himself and his sister that they could finally move out of the shadow of their abusive father, it also gave her some hope that she too could begin anew.

‘set aside the ghosts of the past’ she quietly told herself.

It had almost been a relief to share some of what she had kept to herself for so long. That night in the stable beneath the clear starlight sky she had told Lëof about her Uncle, how he had come into her life directly following the death of her father and grandfather and taken away everything that was familiar to her, including her favourite horse a chestnut mare that she had loved so dearly, ‘We were practically raise together’ she had told him. She did not speak of her position in Gondorian society nor of the events of the night that had forced her to flee from the lands that she had always called home, but she did confide in him the abuse she had endured at the hands of her uncle. How he had locked her away from the world she had known and loved telling those that sought after her health and well being that she was sick, practically mad with grief, refusing to see or speak with anyone. He had stolen her freedom and practically made her his slave and like a slave if she did not perform to his satisfaction she was harshly beaten. Lëof had listened intently and when she had suddenly stopped not wishing to go on he had not pressed her but simply placed a comforting hand and nodded his understanding.

On the days that had followed, when she was not busy with her own chores or helping Frodide’s and Kara in the kitchen’s she would be found helping Leof in the stables, they had grown comfortable with each other and oft laughed and joked in a light and easy manner that surprised a few of the others, who until recently had only seen a quiet, introvert young girl who only on the very rare occasion allowed herself to relax enough to join in the frivolity of the hall. Her laughter was light, her smile warmly infectious that it gave her young face a more womanly glow when seen.

Of the others she had seen little except at meal times, Eodwine, Thornden, Gárwine and even Falco busied themselves in the effort to change the old common room of the white horse into a new mead hall fit for the Lord of Mid-Emnet and although she took instruction from Searyn regarding the chores that required the days attention, the young woman who was now the halls hostess spent much of her time with Linduail, the Gondorian noble woman and cousin to the Queen of this land if rumours were to be believed. This news made Æöel slightly uncomfortable in the young woman’s presence and although she was sure that they had never before met, especially with her being from Belfalas and she from Minas Tirth, there was still that niggling worry that some rumour or scandal of her sudden departure might have reached the ears of the young noble woman. So she was careful to be unobtrusive but polite in the young woman’s presence hoping to go unnoticed as just another serving girl. But Linduail’s Guardian or her fathers Steward as it had turned out, she could not avoid, three times a day as instructed by the healer she brought him the herbal infusion that would help him regain his strength. When awake he had always thanked her politely and she responded in kind, waiting only long enough to take back the empty cup. However of late he would find reasons to delay her, little things like asking her to pass a particular book from his dresser or pouring water from the pitcher next to his bed and always he would frown thoughtfully as though something she had done had puzzled him.

She looked away from the window then and turned to return to a seat set next to the fire, beside the chair was a small spindly looking table upon which sat a dusty old pouch and a few coin’s, her pay for the previous weeks work. She had not expected much as living under the halls roof seemed payment enough but Lord Eodwine had been generous and agreed to pay her coin as well as board. She looked from the small pile of coins to the sword that sat propped against the wall, the firelight gleaming off its polished surface showing clearly the dark line of damage across the flat of the blade. She frowned recalling how it had become so.

It had been several months back when both day and night had been filled with cold rains and harsh winds, she had thought to seek the shelter in the mountains, but Ered Nimrais (the white mountains) was not to be traversed easily and she soon became lost. She wandered aimlessly through the mountains for several months before finally finding her way out into the Eastfold where she was waylaid by bandits who sought to separate her from her fathers sword and what little coin she had left. But she would not relinquish the weapon and had been forced to defend herself. Being the granddaughter of a weapons master/smith she had been taught how to handle a sword, (though this was never made common knowledge). But the sword she wielded had been crafted for her fathers hand and not hers so it was heavy and cumbersome and took several heavy blows to the rocky ground causing the fracture in the metal. As it happened it was not the sword that saved her it was the rains of those past months, they had made the earth slippery and treacherous and as the bandits less light footed than her gave chase one of them lost their footing and careered into the other, allowing her to make her escape, but again she was lost she did not know these land and it was several weeks before she finally arrived at Edoras, half starved and penniless.

She looked again from the sword to the coins and resolved to save what she earned until she had enough to paid for the repair, It was more than a weapon to her, crafted by her grandfather and wielded by her father it was the only link she had left. Just watching the firelight dance of its polished surface or rubbing the oil rag across its flat brought a strange but alluring comfort to her. Gathering up the coins she placed them into the pouch and slipped them under her mattress for safe keeping. The sword she re-sheathed and propped carefully against the end of her cot.

Then dousing the flames of her fire, she quickly fixed her hair and adjusted her skirts before heading down to see if there was anything else needing done, There hadn’t been much to do all morning and Æöel was feeling slightly restless… perhaps I will see if Leof needs a hand she mused thoughtfully.

She quietly passed into the kitchen, where she was surprised to see so many people. Frodides stern faced stood wagging a wooden spoon inches from Thorndens nose telling him absolutely that they could not use her kitchens as a common room, Master Falco was helping himself to some bread and cheese, while at the table Master Marenil sat next to Kara silently peeling potatoes. Seeing her stunned expression he mouthed that he was feeling much better.

“What is going on?” she whispered taking a seat beside them, “Why is everyone in here?”

[JennyHallu]

Twice in ten minutes Linduial found herself totally flummoxed by Saeryn's handsome twin. She stared after him for a few interminable moments, then fled in the opposite direction, after Saeryn, lifting her skirts and running full out, wishing the uncomfortable flush on her face would fade.

"Saeryn...," she gasped, as her friend heard her footfalls and turned. "...your brother..."

She didn't know how to explain it any better than that, but that seemed to be enough. Saeryn took one look at her stricken face and flushed cheeks and laughed, but kindly, in total understanding.

========

Marenil was thoroughly enjoying the chaos and commotion filling the kitchen. Kara had not protested his assistance, and the pile of potatoes was dwindling at an alarming speed. Old Frodides was demonstrating a power of persuasion it was obvious Thornden hadn't been prepared for. Marenil noticed an accusatory glance from a new arrival, and smiled to himself. Young Aedhel was a very good nursemaid, but her manner was--constrained. Something bothered her, and he didn't think he had ever seen her look comfortable with him...If an old man bound to his bed could make a girl that nervous...

She was a puzzle and no mistake.

Frodides paused for a breath, and began again with refreshed volume. Marenil considered helping the young man smooth things over, but decided his assistance might not be welcome. He decided to let Thornden handle the situation himself, and took up another potato, one of only five remaining. He pointed out the count to Kara with a wink, and leaned back comfortably in his chair, watching Folco grabbing snacks for himself behind the irate Frodides' back with cheerful amusement. It was nice to be back around people again. Chaos and confusion was his element. When things ran smoothly he was bored and generally taken for granted. But in a crisis, Marenil shone.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn tried hard not to laugh and failed, compromising with a hug and a pat on the back.

"Poor Lin... he has that effect on everyone." Saeryn's smile was wide, her eyes dancing with amusement.

She talked as she once did to her sister Caeli when she mooned over a visiting lord, nodding understandingly as Lin's face revealed her thoughts.

"Come, love, we'll get a cup of tea from the kitchen. I'm sure Frodides has a pot on. And a whisper came to my ear from a small lark that a certain someone you've been worrying about is lurking there. We can play a bit of Gob and Tiddle after that. Hm? How does that sound?"

[Folwren]

Things would have been marvelously comfortable in the kitchen. Thornden liked a warm blaze and merry company on grey and rainy days, but that wasn't to be this time. Fordides made that very clear as soon as she realized what was happening.

'I won't take any of your plumfoolery here, young fellow!' she cried, snatching up a spoon and advancing more quickly than he would have expected. 'Don't you think I have enough to do to keep the meals coming out in time without all my counter space being taken up with people sitting and talking?'

'Don't be hasty,' Thornden was rather inclined to say, but he didn't get a chance. The cook was continuing, and that spoon was getting to move more quickly than he liked.

'I'm all very well good and happy with stories being told, but not in my kitchen. The place wouldn't be fit to be seen, much less to cook in, when it came time to cook dinner if you stayed here. Take everyone out! Out, out! Or else there'll be some real reckoning to do.'

He didn't know if she was actually intending to apply the ladle, but he ducked nonetheless and dodged to the other side of the table.

'Alright, everybody,' he said, barely keeping enough wits about him not to run and loose whatever dignity he had left, 'it doesn't appear that we're welcome here after all. We'd better all get out, or else face consequences.' He shot a glance towards Fordides who raised an eyebrow rather meaningfully. The hand with the spoon, now resting authoritavely on her hip, twitched slightly and he nodded as though he understood. 'So, let's gather to the Hall, or what's there of it. Miserable as it may be, perhaps story telling and some ale will warm us properly.'

He added to himself, though not aloud, that it wouldn't be half as nice, but that couldn't be helped. Not when Fordides guarded the kitchen like a dragon its lair. They'd have to make do with the damp, and, really, it probably wasn't half as bad as he made it out to be. It wasn't really cold, but he ignored that fact. Sending another pleading glance towards Fordides (which was replied with and killed by a withering glare) he led the entire group towards the door.

[Alcarillo]

“So how are you doing?" Léof asked, "I haven’t seen much of you these past couple days – is anything interesting happening?”

"I've just been around the town, running errands for the carpenters and such work." Gárwine said. He casually leaned against Herefola's stall. She came up to rub at his elbows. Gárwine scratched her nose. She looked much healthier than a week ago, after Gárwine's great ride to Edoras. Léof had taken good care of her.

Léof hummed a half-amused tone. "If you're not busy later, Linduial has asked me to help hang wall hangings. Want to help? I thought it would be fun to see how the Gondorian nobility live." He grinned.

"Sure," said Gárwine. Linduial had been the most intriguing of all the girls at the mead hall: a noble maiden of a far away land, probably hiding all sorts of exotic treasures behind her bedroom door. Gárwine had not seen much of her over the week. And wall hangings? Gárwine couldn't imagine that she'd need help hanging a few cloths on the walls. She seemed tall enough. "Wall hangings, you say, like tapestries?"

"Yes, and maybe paintings or other decoration. She was somewhat vague in her description. I suppose she might want some furniture moved around, too. You're welcome to help."

After a short pause, Gárwine said, "I think I will help. I've been curious to see what she's brought from Gondor. What do you suppose she has in that room? I think it's probably full of chests of gold and family heirlooms. She is nobility, you know."

"A princess. Her luggage must be filled with silk dresses and golden jewelry. She must be used to being pampered by dozens of servants and living in palaces. But she doesn't complain about the Mead Hall."

As the two boys were daydreaming about the luxuries of the life of a Gondorian nobleperson, Thornden came walking down the hall to the stables. He appeared in the doorway and told the boys that Eodwine would soon continue the story of Gob and Twiddle. "Would you like to join us?" Thornden asked.

"I might come later, when I've finished my work here," said Léof. Gárwine nodded his head to show that he was staying.

"Suit yourself," said Thronden and strode back the way he came. Léof, meanwhile, was moving his own horse into another stall. Gárwine stood by Herefola, patting her neck. He had only seen her once or twice over the week and was glad to see that she was doing well.

"You know, Léof, have you noticed how our horses look so alike? Sometimes I wonder if they are related somehow. Herefola's mother was given to us as a gift, after my father and his comrades fought away Dunlendings in the Westfolde years ago. How did you come by Æthel?"

[JennyHallu]

At Saeryn's commiseration, the shock that had frozen Linduial finally wisped away, leaving her talking at a mile a minute, trying to explain away her fascination with Degas. It wasn't working.

"When he got here, he didn't even notice me, Saeryn! Didn't even take a second look...I always get noticed. And then after you left, he-- he told me how pretty I was in the most ridiculous terms, and kissed my hand, and Oh! he was making fun of me, I know it!"

Saeryn was smiling in amusement, an arm around Lin's waist, as the younger girl spoke rapidly, gesturing wildly with each sentence, voice rigid with embarassment and frustration. Lin paused for a breath, and continued in a much softer voice, suddenly shy.

"And Saeryn, he's very handsome, he really is, and so clever, and he really does love you very much indeed. And if he thought I were pretty...Really thought, I mean, not just teasing me...well...," Lin smiled softly and earnestly at her friend. "I wouldn't mind."