Eorling Mead Hall

[Folwren]

Thornden had less of a rude awakening that Eodwine. When he opened his eyes, the sunlight streamed in through the open window along with a gentle, cool wind, and a bird’s song. He yawned and stretched and sat up. The day promised to be good, at least in weather. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he wondered briefly if the court that Eodwine had to attend would be quite as good. As he dressed, he went on thinking – considering everything else that would take place that day. The thirty days that Eodwine had spoken of at the beginning of his time was up this day. Thornden’s own place and immediate future would be decided upon sometime in the course of the day.

Once dressed, Thornden exited his room and made as straight a way to the make shift kitchen as he possibly could. He found Fordides alone there, bent over a great bowl of something. As he entered, she turned towards him. One arm was looped about the huge bowl, the other hand clutched at a wooden spoon as she stirred.

“Good morning, Fordides!” Thornden said, in his sweetest tone, slipping around the table. “How’re the rolls behaving this morning?”

“What’ve ye come here for, fellow?” Fordides asked, seeing past his disguise of friendliness and getting right to the point.

“Breakfast. Breakfast for two, actually.”

“Aye, aye, I could’ve told you that myself.” The woman nodded her head knowingly and put down the bowl, the spoon sticking up out of it. “You’ll be wanting it for yourself and that poor boy again.” She tsked briskly as she shook her head over two plates as she filled them. Thornden grinned and his hands went to his pockets. She turned towards him again, a plate in each hand. “Now, wait just a moment and I’ll get a tray. . .” That was done quickly and then she handed it to Thornden. “Now, take it and enjoy your breakfast.”

“Thank you much, fair maiden of the kitchen!” Thornden said, taking the tray gratefully. The wooden plates were piled high with eggs, sausage, bread, and cheese. He winked at her over the lovely meal she’d given him and then scurried quickly towards the door. She hitched up her shirts to her knees and aimed a kick after him, but he was already gone.

Thornden went quickly on through the hall and came to Lys’s room. He pushed the door open and entered without knocking. “You awake yet, Lys?” he asked as he entered, pushing the door closed again with his foot behind him. “I’ve brought breakfast again. A little early today, I know, I know, but I’ve got work to do today, I imagine.”

He placed the tray on the small table by the bed and dragged a chair closer. Sitting down, he clasped his hands between his knees and leaned forward to study Lys. The boy was hardly awake and he slowly pushed himself up as he yawned.

“How’s the arm today, lad?”

[Kath]

After giving Eodwine his wake up call Kara headed back downstairs to the kitchen and Frodides, who was busy getting a plate together for the Eorl. The woman was determined that he should have the best, as she still felt uncomfortable with the idea that she was not earning her keep. Kara thought this ridiculous, as Frodides was doing just as much work as she ever had, except that much of it was done from a chair. Still, it meant that Eodwine got a good breakfast, and he seemed grateful for it when Kara brought it out to him.

"My thanks, Kara. How is Frodides this day?"

"Doing well, my lord. Her leg is almost fully healed now and Aedhel says it will not be long before she is back to full strength. Frodides herself believes that she is at full strength now and should not be coddled as though she were a child, but so far she is abiding by the rules and not taking on too much."

Eodwine nodded with satisfaction, glad to hear his cook was much improved. Settling down to eat his breakfast he was somewhat surprised that Kara did not leave, and seemed not to be wholly there.

"Kara? Is there something else?"

Startled from her thoughts Kara shook her head to clear it and focused on Eodwine.

"Yes, Lord, but I am not sure what. Before all the trouble over Linduial I had meant to mention something to you but it has been driven clean out of my head."

Eodwine smiled, knowing such memory lapses happened to everyone at some point. Still, he had a long and busy day ahead what with holding court, and would appreciate some peace and quiet as he ate his breakfast to think over what he would do. He began to mention this to Kara, but only got as far as telling her about the court when she suddenly cried out.

"That's it! Lord, over the past few weeks Frodides and I have noticed that food sometmes leaves our kitchen without our permission. No, we don't want to charge anyone." She quickly forestalled Eodwine's question, not wishing him to think she believed anyone in the Hall to be a thief. "There are reasons for it. Frodides and I cannot be in the kitchen all the time, and if people are hungry they are welcome to eat. The problem is that some of what is taken should not be, as it is needed for later meals. We thought perhaps that a table could be placed in the Great Hall, laden with food that is available, so that those who come down for breakfast and find us missing can take from that table, and so not cause us difficulties later. Is that acceptable?"

[Firefoot]

Léof awoke feeling refreshed for just a few moments before a heavy feeling of anticipation settled in. Today was the day that Eodwine would either accept him or not. Even though Eodwine and Thornden had both expressed approval of his work here, he still felt rather nervous – if he could not stay here, he had no where else to go. Well, perhaps this was not now true. After having won the race – which deep down inside, Léof still was not completely sure he should have won – he could probably find work as a rider somewhere. But what kind of living would that be? Certainly no kind that he would want to bring his sister in to. Besides… he liked it here. It was a second home… these people were almost a second family. He tried to shake off the feelings. Of course he would be able to stay. No worries.

He rose, flexing his foot a few times as he had every day the past week or so. Not completely healed yet, but not disabling anymore either. He could walk normally now, only feeling spasms of pain when he moved it in an awkward way. One of the toes that had broken hadn’t quite healed straight, but this did not bother Léof. What did he need his toe straight for, anyway?

He began his morning rounds, starting as always with Æthel. He had been concerned for her in the week or two following the race; it had tired her out more than he would have thought and she had not been eating right. But now she seemed to be returning to her old self, and Léof was glad. He could not have borne it if he had somehow hurt her permanently. As it was, Léof doubted he would ever race her again. It had simply been too hard on her.

As Léof went about morning feedings, his mind wandered, not back to Eodwine’s decision, but to Æðel. He had seen her scarcely at all in the past few weeks, and had never tried to talk to her, not about the race, not about his foot, not even about general things like Linduial’s kidnapping. He regretted this, but time had made it harder not easier to consider approaching her. The hurt had festered and begun to scar; like his foot, it seemed that it would not just heal itself. But what was he to do? She seemed just as intent to avoid him as he, her, and he recoiled mentally at the thought of approaching her.

But how much was a friendship worth?

No, he had not wronged her, after all; he should not have to go to her – right?

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Saeryn... Saeryn, wake up."

It was still early and she'd been awake late sitting with Linduial. Degas sat next to her slightly curled form, on top of the blankets she clutched at with tired disorientation.

"'Gas," she mumbled into her pillow. "Go 'way."

He tucked her hair gently out of her face. "Saer, wake up. I'm back and I need you."

She woke up now, opening her eyes and coming to the realization that Degas was sitting next to her. She could feel the warmth of him coming through the blankets. She pushed him off of her bed gently and bade him to turn away as she changed. She spoke as she did so.

"She's been back for a bit... not too long. She's all right. How did your trip go?"

She noted that his skin was darker and his red hair looked a little bit more burnt golden. He looked slightly impatient when she finally let him turn. She had changed quickly, donning the gown she had laid out the night before for the day's events.

"Degas, what is the look in your eyes?"

"Relief, Saer... you've no idea. I had news on my way into the city, but hearing it from you is more... more real, I guess." She nodded, understanding. He continued now, his real agenda clearer. "Saeryn, you need to play hostess. Her brother Farahil came back with me. He's waiting in the Hall to be attended to. He doesn't speak much, but I'm fairly certain it may be more that he loathes me for letting his sister get taken than anything else. He might speak more to you, but either way, he'll need to be given a room for as long as he stays and Eodwine needs to know that he is here."

She nodded, curious about Lin's older brother. Linduial had told her stories of this younger one... the sailor that taught her archery and fletching. Saeryn had wanted very much to meet both brothers and Lin had promised that they would travel together to Dol Amroth one day, but she had not realized she would meet one so soon. She excused herself from Degas and went to the newly roofed hall to greet this newest guest. She sent Degas to Eodwine's room.

He knocked on the door as she went down the hall, calling softly so not to wake any still sleeping.

"My lord, it is Degas. May I enter?"

[Taralphiel]

"You awake yet, Lys?"

The young boys eyes slowly began to open, seeing the hazy form of Thornden balancing a tray in his hands. "I've brought breakfast again. A little early today, I know, I know, but I've got work to do today, I imagine." He set the tray down, and moved a chair closer to the boys bed. Lys slowly began to rouse, trying to sit himself up in bed. Thornden looked down at the tight bandage over Lys' arm.

"How's the arm today, lad?" Lys smiled and rolled his shoulder a little. "I don't feel much discomfort. I am doing much better." Lys leaned over to smell the warm breakfast Frodides had prepared, and his stomach gave a happy grumble. Both he and Thornden chuckled at the sound.

"I won't keep you longer from your meal, young man!" he said, and pushed the tray in between himself and Lys. As they ate, Lys looked up at him and noticed his brow furrowed. He looked to be mulling over a small thought.

"Today is an important day, is it not Thornden?". Lys remebered Thornden telling him of the events of the past few weeks. Today was the day of Lord Eodwine's first Court. Many would come to settle their greivances. Not the least of them was one who had come to stay at the Mead Hall, a Dunlending. Lys did not seem to grasp the importance of his birthplace, but Thornden often stated with empathy that it did not do well for him. Lys was glad that Thornden thought so kindly on all people.

"Aye, I remember telling you about this day. It will be eventful, no doubt. I do not know my place in it. But I wonder..." Lys picked up his tone, and put down his piece of bread. "Wonder on what...?"

Thornden smiled, and waved off the boy's worried expression. "Don't worry, Lys!" he said with a smile. "It won't do any good speculating. I've been here thirty days, you see, and it is the time for Eodwine to decide if I shall keep the job of Steward."

Lys smiled. Then it was a good day! Thornden was certainly worthy of the charge. Nothing in Lys' mind could make Eodwine think otherwise. He set back to his warm fist of bread, before asking Thornden yet another question.

"Thornden, could I come to see you today? My foot is feeling much better..." While Lys was more than grateful for the care he received, he had been in this small room for almost three weeks, and he longed for a change of scenery. Thornden looked on him gently as he scooped up the last of his sausage with bread.

"I do not wish you to strain yourself, Lys. Hrethel said more than three weeks rest up in bed. I know you want to see the outside world, but it will not run away while you're abed!" Lys frowned a little, but nodded, as he knew Thornden was right.

Thornden saw his disappointment and sighed a little as he sat back in his chair. He studied Lys carefully from head to foot, or what he could see of him. He certainly couldn't walk, but surely it wouldn't do any harm if he were carried out. And perhaps he could sit atop a horse. But it would be going directly against doctor's orders. . .

"I suppose," Thornden said slowly, looking back at Lys' expectant face, "I suppose we can take you for a small outing for dinner this evening. I know all the residents are looking forward to seeing this mystery boy I've had hidden away all these weeks!"

"Thank you so much, Thornden! " Lys grinned. Thornden winked at the rise in Lys' expression, and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I think you're getting better, Lys. You'll be alright in a little while longer. Now," he went on, standing up and collecting the empty tray to return to Fordides, "you make sure to rest well today. I'll come around when I can, and in the evening, I'll come early to help you get ready for dinner."

With that, Thornden left with a smile, and Lys looked out the small window and grinned. He could not rest, when such a wonderful time awaited him this evening.

[Formendacil]

By the time the Eorl of the Middle Emnet of Rohan was rising, most days, Náin son of Narin had been awake for a couple hours. It was not that he was an early riser by nature. Left to his own inclinations, he would probably have rarely risen before the noon hour most days. Náin loved his sleep, and savoured every minute he could acquire.

But the Dwarven people were a race that prized, among other things, hardiness and hard work. Inclined though Náin might have been to sleeping in, fifty-some years of training automatically woke his body at five in the mornining. And, though he would have enjoyed more sleep at times, Náin was accustomed to his habits and was not troubled by them.

This particular morning, as he strolled over to the alder in the middle of the courtyard between the main hall and the new kitchen, he was awake and walking before Eodwine by a matter of several fewer minutes than normal, though he knew it not. Nor did Náin particularly care.

As had become his habit since dwelling at the Mead Hall, Náin's first walk of the day took him to his chief project, which was nearly finished. The double-scale statue of Falco Boffin, tall as a Númenorean, sat almost done on a stone base at the foot of the alder tree. Náin didn't care much for trees one way or another, but he had to admit that the alder made a suitable and impressive backdrop to Falco's statue, complementary to the relationship between Hobbits and nature.

When he had started on Falco's statue, the Men had expected him to do it in a room somewhere, and to move the statue out when it was finished. Náin had scoffed at that idea. The weather was nice, the courtyard was a scene of busied construction anyway, and there was a good deal more room to work in. Why cramp himself in a stuffy room somewhere?

Looking over the statue with a pleased eye, Náin mentally guessed that it should be finished either that day or the next. It was a job well done, he thought. Already, he had several ideas for his next project. The late King Théoden had been a great hero, and yet Edoras was completely unadorned with any semblance of him, or possibly a smaller statue of the Lady Éowyn for the King, or maybe a couple of fancy columns to spruce up the gates to the city. Yes, Náin had many ideas. It was simply a matter of running them by King Éomer or Eodwine, or some other important lord of the Mark, and finding one that one of them liked. An easy task.

Pleased with himself and his work, Náin made to take a detour back to the Mead Hall's main entrance, where he would make his way to breakfast. A short walk was just the thing to get ready for a good day's labour.

Though he had kept mostly to himself over the past few weeks since his arrival, Náin had become fairly well acquainted with the normal habits of life in the Mead Hall, and as he re-entered the Hall, ready for breakfast, it seemed to him that there were more people astir than normal.

Ah yes! he thought, Eodwine was holding court today. Small doings, compared with the whole kidnapping affair involving that Gondorian lady, but revelant to the daily lives of a few more people in Edoras. Wondering if he might not get as much work done as he'd intended, Náin headed in for breakfast.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine was in a soured mood. Saeryn had brought Degas before him and the young man had given his report. Well enough. Degas had seemed a little pleased with himself, which was only natural; this was Degas, after all. At the same time there was a little bit of standoffishness to the lad. Or was that the right word? Eodwine couldn't think of it. At any rate, Degas seemed a little ill at ease. Maybe he was impatient to go resume his courting of the recovering Lady Linduial. Eodwine half hoped that she would give him a good tongue lashing.

He had complimented Degas on "a job well done," and sent him on his way, leaving Saeryn still standing before him.

"Yes?" His tone was curt, he noticed. She did too; a slight frown played around her eyebrows.

"Degas has brought back one of Linduial's brothers."

"Oh?"

"He would like to meet you. Do you want to go down to meet him, or would you rather have me bring him here to see you?"

"Bring him up here." She left quickly. Had there been something in her tone, in her face, that belied more than she meant? And what had she said this brother's name was? No, she hadn't said at all. That was odd.

While Eodwine waited for her to return with the new guest, he happened upon the reflection of his own face in the mirror Lothiriel had given him. There was a prounounced frown on his face. Where had that come from? He could not recall why he was so dour. He passed his hand over his face, trying to relax his expression. He looked again. Better. But not great.

There was a quiet knock on the door.