Eorling Mead Hall

[JennyHallu]

Marenil stepped down from the dais, leaning forward to grasp Lin's hand firmly, her grey eyes flashing from him to her brother. "What about Enna?" she demanded, pleading. "You can't stay here, Mar, you have to go home to Enna."

He shook his head at her gently, for the sake of her pride ignoring that her weight was firmly supported by her brother, his heart tearing at her weakness. Though he had been assured by the returning rescuers that Lin's courage and intelligence had probably saved her life, if not made the rescue possible, he had seen only the thin, exhausted waif they had brought home, and worry for her was keeping him up at night. "Darling," he whispered. "Enna's gone where I can't follow."

Tears suddenly streamed down her face. Marenil and Farahil exchanged glances, and the younger man took his sister's elbow and led her firmly but gently through the crowd to the relative privacy of the kitchen garden.

Marenil followed, his ears full of the comments of those among the crowd they displaced. "Who's that?" "That girl who was kidnapped and her brother." "She's so pretty!" "Her name's Linduial, right?" "Rescued by the Queen's guard and our own Eorl." "I've heard she was brave." "They tell me she showed courage." "Poor lass, look how tired she is." He shut his mind and hurried after the duo.

Farahil had Lin nestled into a bench, her head resting on his shoulder. She was still crying, and it seemed only to have intensified. Marenil sat down on her other side and held her hand, listening to her wracking sobs. Slowly he realized these tears weren't for Enna, or not just for her. All the stress and fear and tightness of her ordeal was pouring out of her, and he realized with a start of surprise that despite the nightmares and exhaustion, he hadn't yet seen her cry. And she'd needed it. That was apparent.

When she finally calmed and set up, wiping her eyes almost shyly with a kerchief of her brother's, the men both saw immediately the difference. The familiar spark of intelligence and joy was back in her eyes, some part of her old fiery spirit in the curve of her back. And...something new...a mix of fine steel and new wariness.

"So you'll stay here then." Her voice was soft, stating a fact, not asking a question.

"I will," Marenil answered.

"I think I shall go home."

Farahil smiled. "About time, sister. No need for three world tra--"

"I'll be coming back."

Both men stared at her in surprise. Marenil knew, and suspected Farahil had likely been told as well, why she needed to return. The surprise was in her tone: some new force or self-knowledge gave it a hard edge. It was--it was like when Marenil had watched the elder brother, Adragil, in his practice bouts with his sword instructor. The lad had always been good, absorbing all his lessons effortlessly, but he had never been able to defeat his instructor. Then, near-grown, he had accompanied his father on a Corsair raid: his first taste of battle. When he came back and resumed his lessons, the skill and grace had not lessened, but he'd added something new; there was an awareness of the sword that had not been there before, like he'd suddenly learned what it was, and his delighted instructer had lost every bout since.

Linduial had been trained in diplomacy and statecraft, trained to use her words and voice to their utmost. I'll be coming back. Such an innocuous phrase...and yet...Lin knows it's a weapon, Marenil realized suddenly. She's always had the skill, the intelligence; and now she has the strength of mind and heart to use it. And knows why.

Her words brooked no argument, and her brother sat back and agreed. "I'll bring you home then. When do you want to leave?"

"Tomorrow, early." She looked up at Farahil. "If you don't mind leaving so early...Saeryn..."

"...is a pretty lady, but she is not my sister. If you want to leave tomorrow, you'd best pack. I'll tell that ostler of our plans."

"Actually..." Lin cleared her throat, catching her brother's eye with a sparkle. "I'm about sick of being indoors, locked up in little rooms. Will you?" He nodded, and she proceeded with her instructions. "Pack up one of my trunks, but leave the other, and take only my clothes. I'll ask Eodwine to save the room when I talk to him this evening, and I doubt he'll mind if my things stay. I'll go talk to Leof." Immediately the woman--for woman she was, and the girl-child who'd come here was left behind forever--rose and walked briskly towards the stables, pausing only to squeeze Marenil's hand. "I'm sorry for Enna," she said awkwardly, emotion throbbing in her voice. "I loved her."

[Firefoot]

When Léof heard footsteps at the end of the stable aisle, he quickly slid down from Æthel’s back and left her stall with one last fond tug on her forelock. He was rather surprised to find Linduial standing there, apparently looking for him. He had not seen much of her since she had returned to the hall, but from what she had seen, she was different, somehow. Léof had not heard the tale of her kidnapping in full, only garbled parts of it, but at least enough to know that she had gone through quite a bit. He found himself feeling rather surprised that she seemed to have come out stronger for it; perhaps his first impression of her had not been quite fair after all.

Léof managed a smile as he greeted her. “Do you need something?”

“My brother and I are going to leave early tomorrow morning for Dol Amroth, if you could have our horses saddled…”

“They’ll be ready,” Léof said, making a note to himself to give both of them a thorough grooming that night. Still, he could not help being curious. “But if you don’t mind me asking… you’re leaving already? You’ve not been back long, and your brother hasn’t really stayed very long at all…”

[JennyHallu]

Lin smiled, heartened to see that she had such friends here. "Don't worry, Leof," she said, climbing one-handed to sit on a high haybale, out of the way. "I'll be coming back. I love it here...you won't get rid of me that easily. I'm even leaving half my things. But my father will be worried about me until he sees me in person, and there's so much news to catch up on. Half the reason Farahil came was to bring me home.

"And...I need to rest. After--after I got back here it seemed as though all the energy drained out of me. I've not been sleeping right, I'm not healing right...and you know how it is. I'm a bit homesick."

[Celuien]

Despite the importance of Lord Eodwine's court proceedings, Garstan found his mind wandering. Court matters were of significance, he knew. Yet, other than the Eorl's strange announcement of apprenticeship for the Lady of the Hall, he could not find the speeches interesting, and Garstan's attention faltered. He had dilemmas of his own to consider, and with the thought, his grip on Lèoðern's small hand suddenly tightened, causing her to look up at him with a quizzical smile.

"What..." she began. Garstan put a finger to his lips in signal for her to keep silent. Interruptions were inappropriate. Despite his impatience with the day's formality, he knew the importance of the laws of politeness. Lèoðern would have to learn them. Would she? Could she, under the rough tutelage of a simple stoneshaper, struggling to earn his keep? He didn't have the time he needed to teach her and often found himself at a loss for a method when he did attempt it. Yet there was a way now open for her. And as he thought of it, his fingers clutched hers again, bringing the smile back to her face. She raised a finger to her lips in imitation of Garstan's gesture and looked at him, suppressing a string of giggles.

Garstan, weary from his journey, in pain from his wound, and suddenly feeling a deeper pain spring unbidden from his mind, knelt and gathered Lèoðern to his arms. And a single thought echoed in his head: Please, let her always be as she is now. No matter what the years may bring. He knew that changes to her world were coming, hopefully to her betterment. But he feared for her too - feared that she would lose the affectionate, laughing innocence that had always marked her.

Eodwine was speaking again. "Now I call before me Garstan the stoneshaper."

Garstan released his grasp of Lèoðern and stood. "Yes, my lord?"

[Firefoot]

Léof nodded. He knew how homesickness worked, alright. He murmured, “At least you have a home to go back to.” It slipped out before he could think, and when it did he felt his ears and face grow hot. Maybe she hadn’t heard -

No such luck. “What?” Léof could tell from her tone and expression that this came from surprise and not lack of hearing.

“Nothing. I just- it’s nothing,” stammered Léof before she could comment further. He felt trapped. After that little tidbit, she would surely want to know more, and he could hardly make up some nice-sounding story to go with the comment. He wouldn’t lie to her anyway… he had passed the point of wanting to lie about it – not that he was any good at lying anyway. Linduial still looked inclined to ask another question, and his voice took on a fiercer tone. "Really. It's nothing." She wouldn't understand anyway. Then he changed the subject, the only thing he could think to do. “Will you be needing anything else, then?”

[JennyHallu]

"Will you be needing anything else, then?"

Lin smiled shyly, giving him a negative answer with a shake of her head. She felt--hurt, somehow, that Leof had so clearly turned the conversation away from himself. Perhaps...perhaps she had not earned such confidences. It did not occur to her that the troubles of the young man before her would not have affected her a few short weeks ago.

"I think...," she paused, trying to phrase this new wish to provide comfort and friendship. "I think that Edoras--this Hall--could be a good place to call home. And surely now, with Eodwine's word today, it is your home? You're officially the head ostler now! Congratulations, Leof!" She grinned at him earnestly. "You should be so happy and proud! Celebrate!"

On a whim, she pushed off the haybale with her good hand, landing firmly on her feet. With a happy cry, she looped her dress over her weak wrist and firmly gripped and placed Leof's right hand on her waist before grabbing the other and spinning him around in a lively reel, to the time of her suddenly light feet, warbling an improvised tune.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Farahil carefully emptied what was left in one trunk before lightly folding gowns into shapes far more compact and travel-worthy. He left the packing of womanly necessities to Linduial, as was only appropriate, and took a final look at the trunk, smiling with fond remembrance of Adragil's sudden desire to carve Lin a chest and his immediate departure for country sides unknown wherein to learn the art. Farahil was certain that Linduial could have fit a half dozen more items at the very least had she been taught to pack for adventures at sea and he smiled wider, not minding at all that his baby sister had never learned of such things. She did well as a lady; her power did not come from intimidation by sword or by nightly stealth but by carefully chosen words and a demeanor that called for respect and wariness.

He sat on her bed, smoothing the covers that he had lain in place for her before they had gone downstairs, and he looked at his hands, remembering every scar.

He ran a cold finger over a dark red line that ran from his left forefinger to nearly the inside of his wrist. He'd been playing swords when he was young, gloating that the weapons master had never landed a hit. He was cocky, over-confident; a child, he remembered. The master had grown weary of his foolishness and whipped a dagger from his sheath and sliced carefully forward with it even had he distracted Farahil with his longsword.

I'm bleeding! What have you done?

I've landed a hit, young lord, and don't forget it.

But you cheated! That's bullying! It's unfair.

Is it unfair to use the weapons for which you have been trained? A time will come, Farahil, that you will face an opponent larger, stronger, and far more experienced. That time will be, by all odds, that in which you will be asked to use techniques that they have never learned, weapons with which they have no familiarity. Will you use them? Will you call your learning an unfair advantage and allow them to strike? Your life and those of others are in your own hands, boy. There is an honor among those you will fight that will not extend to you. Do not forget to use what you know. You will bear a scar now, to remind you.

Linduial would bear scars. She would not forget her ordeal. But she had learned more than she could have under the best teachers about what makes a leader and what makes a lady.

Farahil had come to bring her home and he would; but he would also bring her back. She had learned here that which those at Dol Amroth could only partly teach. These people were good people, honest ones, if a little odd. The lady Saeryn... she would be a good friend to Linduial, and the lords Eodwine and Degas... they would protect her from all they could. And Lin... little Linny... she could protect herself.

[Firefoot]

Before Léof even realized what was happening, he found himself swept away by Linduial. He laughed suddenly, not from the fair absurdity of the situation, but from the sudden relief of stress. Strangely enough, he found himself dimly recalling the steps to the dance, and as he spun Linduial, he remembered where from.

On a particular winter evening when Léof was about nine or ten, his father had pulled out his fiddle and begun to play – a rarity, even in those happy days. His mother had come in from the kitchen, and as his father struck up a lively reel, she had pulled him up from his seat and taught him the steps while his father played and Cerwyn laughed and clapped. “Someday you’ll be glad to know how to dance, when you’ve a pretty girl at your side!” his mother had told him. Reluctant at first, he had slowly picked up enthusiasm as the night waned away…

He never would have thought the ‘pretty girl’ would be a young noblewoman from Gondor. But why must she always just be the noblewoman? Why couldn’t she be… a friend? Have you ever really even given her a chance? An odd pair they must look, she in her finery and so light on her feet and he in his working clothes and only remembering the dance as he went along – but if none of that mattered to her, why should it to him?

The dance ended, and Léof bowed slightly as it seemed the right thing to do, but he was grinning for the first time that day. “Thank you, Linduial. I much needed that. I reckon I worry too much – Æthel” – he jerked his head towards his horse, who had poked her head on of the stall to watch the spectacle in the aisle – “could tell you the same. But I guess – I guess you might say that you reminded me what home is like…” And what it’s like to have people you can trust… learn to trust people again. “My mother – she taught me that dance,” he inserted with a slight smile, “died some five years ago. And I suppose home for me died with her.” He was leaving a lot out, but trusts are not built in minutes, and Léof still was not entirely sure of this new Linduial.