Eorling Mead Hall

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Saeryn tried not to shift from foot to foot with impatience. She waited for him to speak, to tell her about his dream. In the companionable but expectant silence, she began to think of the image she must present. Why had she worn a gown? There was no real reason for it... she was more comfortable in men's garb. She planned to work again when she returned. It was foolishness. And he didn't even notice. She thrust the last though away, blushing and hoping Eodwine did not see her cheeks glow in the sun.

She looked to the left, eyes searching for any distraction. In a nearby field, a race was soon to start. Her eyes swept the horseflesh, taking in size and whether or not the mounts seemed likely to do their masters' bidding. A small and familiar frame met her eyes.

"Oh!" she said softly, "Eodwine, it's Lèof!"

"What?" his thoughts were interrupted by her sudden speech.

"Eodwine, Lèof is racing. Come," she took his hand thoughtlessly in hers and began to tug him through the crowd lightly. "We should watch him."