Eorling Mead Hall

[JennyHallu]

Marenil was entering the Great Hall just as Modtryth was exiting in search of him. He listened to her tell him of her new duties, and pledged to speak to her of it later in the morning. For now, the meeting Eodwine was calling with his laborers was more urgent.

And he had not even been told of it, except as an afterthought from Saeryn, with poor Modtryth as proxy. He chuckled to himself. This young Lord Eodwine was unused to the vast household he was rapidly acquiring, and had never had a Steward. He was clearly unaware of what Marenil was capable of, and hadn't yet learned that at times it was best to stand out of the way and let him do it. He'd even been a trifle startled when Marenil had asked for the key to the lockbox where Eodwine kept his books, and Marenil had spent the morning groaning over the disorganized state thereof. Oh, they weren't too bad, for a man who'd grown up overseeing nothing more than a midsized farmhold, but Marenil had overseen Lord Farlen's holdings for over twenty years: The country estate, the palatial home in the city...and at the same time he'd worked to support Farlen's other tasks: as soldier, diplomat, merchant...

He had high standards.

Not that he thought Eodwine and his Lady should not be attending this meeting. They should: it was, after all, their home and the seat of the Eorl that was being rebuilt. But he dearly hoped that Eodwine would learn to welcome, and in best case seek, the expertise Marenil had spent a lifetime garnering.

He arrived at the table just as the Lady Saeryn did, remembering as he saw her something he had meant to speak to her about. The Hall was too large for her to be serving as housekeeper and Lady of the Emnet. It was time another took that task from her, some woman strong enough to pry it from the girl's stubborn fingers. After the meeting. Don't get ahead of yourself, plenty of time to take the rudder of this disorganized little ship. You need to speak to everyone, really. One at a time!

[Nogrod]

After Garstan had gone with Lèoðern, Stigend was left alone to the would-be alder court. The great old tree was impressive to look at and would make a fine centerpiece of the second courtyard. But as a practical man from much more modest conditions he was a bit baffled about the plan to separate the kitchen and especially its ovens from the walls of the Mead Hall itself. What a waste... he thought to himself still watching admiringly at the great alder. Well, maybe these people can afford it? He shrugged his shoulders and took another look around. And the corridor-thing... I surely wouldn’t like to work in a kitchen with such a long corridor to pass through time and time again, everyday.

Slowly, immersed in his thoughts, he walked back inside the Hall to see that everyone else had already gathered around the table. Or not everyone. As he was taking his seat an old man came to join them. Stigend was introduced to him. Marenil, the steward. An old man with a gaze that told of experience, determination and pride. There was something similar in him as had been in his great aunt whom he had revered, although in a much grander scale.

As they had all set themselves and the rest of the breakfast was carried to them, lord Eodwine opened the discussion.

"So my friends, we must make choices for rebuilding to send our masters here to their duties." he said, nodding towards Garstan and Stigend.

“Stigend, as a new one here with fresh eyes, what do you think of the plan Garstan has showed you? Tell me your thoughts” Eodwine said, looking him straight to the eyes and ripping a piece of bread to himself.

“The idea of the alder court is fine. It’s a beautiful tree out there.” Stigend coughed a little as there was a piece of bread in his throat. “You just ask a carpenter... about old trees...”, he had to cough more intensely this time. Then he smiled to the others a bit embarrassedly and took a draught of water to clear his throat.

“Excuse me that my lord”, he said to Eodwine, nodding to the others in passing and then went on. “Yes there are some things I found a bit troubling. I haven’t ever lived in wealth so I have never seen a kitchen been built separately from the sleeping corners. The stonewalls of the ovens, if they are part of the house, keep a good part of it warm during wintertime with no additional cost as they are heated everyday anyway.” He looked at the others around the table just to make sure he was not laughed at. They looked serious and interested enough that he encouraged himself to continue. “And the corridor will be so long and having two corners in it as to be unsound for those working in the kitchen. And surely it would have to be made wide enough for two people with full trays to be able to pass each other in it, and that just sounds a bit grand if it will have no other function.” He looked at the others again, taking some water and then wiping his mouth with his palm.

Eodwine had a questioning look on his face, as if he was waiting for more. “Sorry sir, that’s all I had from what I’ve seen this morning.” Stigend felt himself a bit confused. Had he just been too open about the imminent shorcomings of the planning which he thought there were? Or was it just that he had accustomed to build for the poor and the common folk, rarely to the rich and powerful? “I’m just a plain and simple carpenter and you asked about my straight opinion, my lord.” He tried to explain his confused looks, avoiding Garstan’s eyes. He broke some more bread to himself and dipped it into the jelly.

“But do you have any idea about the alder court that you said yourself was fine? Surely a carpenter used to carpentry, as you seem to be, would have some ideas about the planning too?” Eodwine asked him firmly, not letting him fall out from the discussion just yet.

Stigend felt even more ill at ease now. He was on the eyes of all these noble people and he had already managed to criticise the plans of the only person he had actually learned to know and to whom he felt warmly towards. But Eodwine didn’t turn his questioning gaze away from him and in the end he realised that he had to answer him.

“Well... The kitchen might be built against the sleeping quarters. That way it would warm the rooms at wintertimes and the people in the kitchen would have a short and easy way to the tables inside here or outside the alder court if folk like eating there more. And at the height of the summer heat we might use an outdoor oven and a grill that could be built in the alder court itself, beside the outer wall of the kitchen...” The thought was not exactly ready yet, but he had entertained something like that in his head as he had been in the yard. “Then the third side of the alder court could be... well, if you had something to need a building for? More lodging, a workshop of sorts, an armoury? I’m sorry, but that’s all I can come up with at the moment.” He was even more confused than he had been a moment before, pouring himself more water just to have something to do and not having to look at the others around the table.

[Celuien]

Stigend had a point, of course. The hallway would be difficult to build, and would add a distance for the kitchen staff to travel while serving meals. But Garstan, while aware of this from the beginning, had his reasons for proposing the plan.

"You speak truly, Stigend," he began. "Moving the kitchen away from the hall is makes for more steps than leaving one wall against the other. The heat in winter would be lost, and there is a greater trouble for those who must bring the food from the kitchen. Yet too, there are things to be said for having the longer way. I have seen other places where the kitchen is set apart from the hall so that should the kitchen take fire, it may be stopped ere the hall too is in flames. It was against the chance of fire that the plan was made to divide the cooking place from the great hall, not for show. Surely a fire can be more easily stayed in a narrow corridor than it may when it takes to the timber of the main hall.

"But I see too that the plan is somewhat grand. It is a happy chance, indeed, that the matter has been brought up now, before much had been done towards the building. There was no chance to discuss the plans in full when they were first made, for more pressing matters came about at the hall. Perhaps there should be some change to the plan. I know not."

Garstan stopped, wondering what Eodwine's judgment would be, and wondering if Stigend had more to say.

[Nogrod]

Stigend had been really nervous to hear how Garstan would react to his criticism of the plan. After all, he wouldn't have wanted to go so far this openly but Eodwine's gaze had pressured him to continue. Maybe that was his way of checking his subordinates honesty and loyalty?

As Garstan started talking he almost froze. But what he heard made him relieved word by word and strengthened his earlier conviction that he indeed had a respectable and good-hearted partner. Even though he disagreed with the overtly careful ways of the rich in principle, you just don't leave your fires burn at nights and build the wall with stone which doesn't set alight, he had to admit that Garstan had a point in his plan with the fire-safety. Fires did happen. A humble cabin was relatively easy to build again if something happened and normally there were not anything too valuable to cry after. But it was different here. Even though with his experience, all the fires started from the utmost carelessness or lousy constructions, which he just couldn't figure happening here.

He looked at Garstan in the eye and nodded to him in agreement but didn't open his mouth. He had been talking just too much for the time being. The good lord and lady and the old Marenil should have their say now.

[JennyHallu]

Marenil sat back, leaning back in his chair. Of kitchens he knew little, and although he supported the idea of the kitchen being a separate building, he felt it best to do so silently. Especially since he had so much to suggest. He had been disheartened, and in an odd way, excited, by the state of Eodwine's books.

They had been tidy, yes, and while the lord's heavy handwriting spoke to self-teaching, Marenil assumed the odd spelling was a result of the relative youth of the Rohirric tongue to his own. Writing was in itself a fairly new art for these people, though their oral history was rich and their memory long enough to rival any of the sea-kings of yore.

No, what Marenil disapproved of most were the figures themselves. Two columns, one for income and one for spending; it was not a complex or unusual system. Only-the one for spending contained far more and larger entries than the one for income. The entries for foodstuffs, at least, were regular, well organized, and in bulk, speaking to Frodides' firm control of her sphere, but far larger than the size of the permanent household warranted. Everything else was haphazard, with things purchased a little at a time, and things purchased that Eodwine should have been producing for himself long ago.

It's what comes of two running a large household who never have before, he thought, looking sharply at the Lord and his young Lady. The Hall hadn't been previously set up to support itself: as an Inn, it made its own income in custom, which Eodwine refused to charge. An' that's all right, Marenil admitted reluctantly, but there's a better way to do it. Eodwine was new to the whole business, and Marenil suspected that Saeryn's family holdings were smaller, and probably a farmhold, at that. Lass hadn't the least notion of what to do with a hold in a city, or how much she could get away with, and there's been no one to ask. She hadn't done that bad a job, considering what she had to work with, but Marenil did know what could be done, and intended to send Eodwine's sinking financial ship onto a new course, just as soon as he could get a firm grip on the rudder.

Of course...the challenge was that it might take a great deal of money just to get settled onto the proper course, but if Eodwine could be talked into making a loan of the King, Marenil could get it paid back in a year, maybe two, and turn a profit for his new lord at the same time.

And now, in a plan of what buildings were needed...time to make his first move.

"These men you've got here are quite knowledgeable," he said, meaning every word. He'd worked with many artisans through the years, and these seemed to take a pride and pleasure in their work that did their crafts good justice. "I think between 'em, they'll work out a good plan for the kitchen, especially if they ask Frodides, who knows all there is to know about a good kitchen, I think.

"We should also consider, though, what other buildings you'll be needing, Lord Eodwine. Your house is almost full to capacity, and more arrive daily to take their oath with you. You should have a barracks, with some private space for the captain of your guard, and room for armsmen and freemen. You have long been in need of a bower, and the women's work your Lady could direct there could do a great deal to help your house. A Healer is in training, already on oath to you. When she returns, a stillroom would be appropriate, as a place for her to work. And then some simple projects: a smoke-shed, a chicken-coop, space to keep some few livestock, for the benefit of your house, and I should like Master Stigend here to take a look with me at the attic-space, to see if we can create some living space there, so that your household can all be housed, and with the luxury of as much privacy as you can spare them, and leave most of the old Inn for high-ranking guests and your own business."

[Alcarillo]

Poor soul, that Trystan. The privies were a stinking pool of hot fumes and odors. Garwine had seen Kara clean them out before. They contained in their murky depths countless bucketfuls of filth, and once they were shoveled out, they had to be carried to the Ravine. And then it was back to the privies to shovel some more, and then back to the Ravine, and so on. A rigorous and messy task. It was an odd chore for Eodwine to assign to a newcomer…

The kiss…It was plain that Lord Eodwine did not approve of Trystan. He was a rather scruffy fellow…and bold. He had arrived only today, and already appeared to be courting Lady Saeryn...with Lord Eodwine playing the part of the protective father?

Garwine reminded himself it was not his place to concern himself with the personal affairs of his superiors. He had other business to care to, like showing Trystan to the privies.

He led Trystan to the dark hallway leading down to the privies, halfway down the residential wing. They stood at the entrance, Garwine not daring to face the stench if he could help it. "The privies are down there," he told Trystan, pointing. "Shovels and buckets are kept in the closet under the stairs. Usually these are stored to the right to separate them from the buckets used for other chores, even after they're washed. A matter of public health, I'm told. Anyways, to clean out the privies, you just shovel the, um, waste into the buckets and carry it down to the Ravine."

"Where is the Ravine?"

"Not very far from here. You just walk down the slope and eventually you'll come to a large ditch filled with similar waste. That's the Ravine. Everybody in Edoras throws their rubbish there. Also, remember to carry the filth out a back door. And be discreet. Here, I'll show you the shovels…"

He walked Trystan over to the closet under the stairs, and once he had a bucket in one hand and a shovel in the other, Garwine gave him a grin of encouragement and, with a firm hand, guided him to the privies' hallway, only leaving after he had seen Trystan disappear into the gloom.

[littlemanpoet]

"That is well!" Eodwine exclaimed, and turned to the two artisans. "Do both of you agree?"

Garstan nodded, and Stigend, voicing his reservations briefly one more time, also gave his nod. Eodwine asked his steward and his apprentice-lady if they agreed, and they gave their nod as well.

"Would Modtryth be willing to walk the hallway between kitchen and Hall, do you think, Stigend?"

"I think she would, but she should give her own yes."

"Right you are! I will find her and see what she says."

The meeting broke up. Garstan and Stigend spent the rest of the day pouring over pages with lines that looked more and more like what the kitchen and hallway would be as the day wore on. Saeryn went in search of Degas, and Marenil worked on his list.

Late in the afternoon, Marenil came to Eodwine, sitting with Falco Boffin under the alder tree.

"Ah, Marenil!" Eodwine said, standing and smiling, "Come join us! Shall I have Kara bring you something to drink?"

[JennyHallu]

Marenil grinned slowly, easing his body carefully down onto the bench. "Thanks, Lord, but I've just drank a jug of water thinking this out for you." Quickly he outlined his plans, starting with his ideas for freeguests. As expected any mention Marenil made of fees was met with a disapproving frown, and he let the issue lie--for now. Time enough for Eodwine to change his mind: eventually someone would abuse his generosity again as Osfrid had.

He quickly moved on to plans to partition attic space into homes for the household, indicating with a gesture that he'd like to get through the whole proposal before Eodwine stopped to argue with him. This idea seemed to go over better, but Marenil had expected it to. There was no denying that the old Inn was becoming decidedly full.

Next he detailed plans to purchase some livestock and build pens for them in the area planned to someday become the Mead Hall. The rebuilding of the Hall would take years, and the space might as well be used in the meantime. This seemed to be greeted with enthusiasm, but again Marenil gestured to indicate there was more. There was much to do and think about, and he wanted to get it all through with.

Briefly he mentioned that he'd like to get a trade caravan going to Gondor, then quickly hurried on.

"Just one last thing, my lord. The city of Edoras is also under your jurisdiction, and there are some taxes that I do not see are being collected. It is customary for there to be a fee owed you by any who wish to set up a market stall within the walls, and a tax on the sale of a house or business-place. Not as much money here as those fees bring in Dol Amroth or Minas Tirith, but significant just the same. The market fees at least would help the state of your purse, strained by all this construction."

He sat quiet a moment, thinking through to make sure he had covered everything. "Yes, hmm...I think that's all. Nothing else we can accomplish without more money. What do you think?"

[littlemanpoet]

"I think, Marenil," Eodwine smiled, "that you must be terribly missed back at Dol Amroth, for your skills in stewarding seem unrivaled. I am a lucky man."

Falco interrupted, "You surely weren't born that way, so I figure it must be the fact that you've a Hobbit to keep you company."

"Ah, yes, that simply must be why, my proud Baggins of a hobbit."

"Baggins! Fishing for compliments, are you!" Falco grinned.

"Ah but not all hold the name Baggins in as high a regard as you, Master Boffin."

"More's the pity, and their loss into the bargain." Falco lapsed into silence, aware that Marenil was being quite patient with a small, amused smile.

"Now to my thinking on the many matters, Marenil, that you have laid before me. I say a 'yes' to the attic work, to livestock and pens for them, and to the collection of market booth taxes, seeing as they are owed anyway. Oh, and 'twould be wise of us to make sure with Meduseld how much of that the King expects to come his way; after all, I hold these lands in fief to him.

"One other thing: I would like you to assign Thornden to visit farmsteads that are in arrears on their payments of dues, whether in kind or coin."

A thin smile on his face, Eodwine studied Marenil. "I sense a keen mind behind those quiet eyes, my dear steward. As I said already, I am a lucky man. But keep one thing always in that keen mind of yours. An Eorlinga's word is of more worth than what his purse holds."

[Laiudanama]

The sun rose slowly towards her pinnacle, stretching her rays brightly as she awoke from a night’s slumber, beaming benevolently down upon every corner and creature of Middle Earth as midday approached. The day was indeed turning out to be a nice one: beautiful weather, a clear sky stretching away infinitely, and the heat rising pleasantly to a temperature that would surely have every Man in the Mark looking longingly out of his window – and sure, if there was no other urgent business to attend to, midday would surely see a fair number of men reaching for their walking staffs, the fine Ladies of Gondor and Rohan changing into their summer hats, scores of children racing out of their schoolrooms into the bright yards beyond…

Trystan glared at the sun furiously, wiping a hand over his perspiring face and, disgusted, spat to one side, trying to clear his dry mouth of any filth which may have got in. The very idea revolted him, and the boy spat again, just for good measure. Though he was without both food and drink, Trystan decided that, after several hours – how long? He was losing track of time, beginning to measure it in terms of monotonous shovelfuls of filth – now would be about as good a time as any for a lunch break. And why not: here, less than a hundred yards from the Ravine, a pit of household waste, sewage and other the gods only know what other forms of filth and waste, who would be watching him? Not Lord Eodwine, that was for sure, and probably none of his lackies, either. Trystan grinned to himself suddenly, remembering Garwine’s face as he had tactfully paused just outside the privies, safely out of stinking distance. He didn’t even come in, where I’ve spent my morning practically up to my elbows in…well. He snorted derisively at Garwine’s words: “Carry the filth out a back door. And be discreet…”

Still, he was almost done now: say one more trip, maybe two at a push, and the whole arduous task would be finished. Trystan stabbed his shovel into the ground, although his venom was now fading, as he leant back against the shade of a nearby tree, although as a gentle breeze ruffled it’s branches, even the tree seemed to recoil from the stench which pervaded the boy’s very being. He smiled at the thought, reaching into his back pocket for his pipeweed…and cursed viciously when he found the pocket empty. He must have dropped it! Somewhere between here and the privies back up at the Eorling Mead Hall – either that, or… Trystan glanced distastefully towards the peacefully steaming Ravine into which he had been slogging waste all morning. Attached as he was to his pipeweed, he sure as knives wasn’t going after anything in there.

Although if he hadn’t dropped it around the Mead Hall, it could be anywhere between here and, well, Dol Amroth for all he knew. And going back in that direction any time soon was about as appealing a prospect as diving headfirst into the Ravine.

The youth settled back into the tree, his skinny shoulderblades digging into the trunk, loosening his shirt a button or two further, having already removed his jerkin. Yes, perspiring in the heat, doing the filthy oddjobs of some pompous Lord in what constituted to his first day of honest hard work in memory, and stinking, frankly, of everything that had passed through the bowels of the honourable denizens of the Mead Hall in gods only know how long…well, it could be worse. He could be hot, tired, stinking and being chased the authorities of Dol Amroth, not to mention a hardened thug who wanted to kill him, preferably via as much pain as possible.

Oh wait – that was the current situation.

Trystan closed his eyes wearily for just a second, but all he could see imprinted on his eyelids was that house, dark, gloomy, the dust motes still spinning in the air where the old woman’s scream had disturbed it. Her scream and her fall…

He started up, his eyes wide. No. No, he wouldn’t – couldn’t – dwell on those thoughts for any longer. Groaning softly, he fell forward to his knees, then struggled up to his feet, grabbing the shovel and buckets and started the long trudge back up to the Mead Hall. Trystan would never be the lacky or minion of anyone who judged themselves superior, but currently, he could do with a little protection – and with not making any more enemies…

[Formendacil]

The council, or meeting, or whatever it was, that Eodwine had been holding with regards to the expansion had broken up, and the various members gone seperate ways. Having come to terms, if not quite forgiveness, with Degas, Náin decided there was no time quite like the present, and that he ought to go seek out Saeryn, and apologize to her. He was aware that he was leaving Eodwine, who had been most rude to and who he was consequently dreading the most, to last. He found, however, that he was well able to explain it away to himself. And he'd apologize to Eodwine come the end of the day, one way or another.

As he sought up and down the Mead Hall for Saeryn, unaware of wither she had gone, Náin thought to himself about his "apology" to Degas. Forgiveness had rather been unforthcoming, but Náin wasn't so much concerned about forgiveness as about his own apology. To have done the right thing to try and rectify the situation on his part, that was the important thing. If Degas harboured a grudge, that was his affair. His affair- and it meant that Náin didn't feel particularly bad about the fact that he didn't care too much for the young noble.

Before his rambling mind could finish it's trail of though, Náin crossed the partially-reconstructed Great Hall for the third time, just in time to catch sight of Saeryn exiting by the opposite door. He sprinted the length of the hall, soon catching her up. Saeryn appeared to be on a errand, or mission, or something with a purpose anyway, to judge by the covered basket in her hands. She seemed to notice Náin behind her, and sped up her walk a trifle, so as to avoid the Dwarf.

"Lady Saeryn!" Náin called out. "I would have a word with you, if you would find it in your heart to listen."

[Formendacil]

So absorbed was Náin in his own thoughts that he completely failed to notice that Degas had left the courtyard by a route that didn't take him past the Dwarf (though Degas was unaware that Náin was seeking him at all, at that time) until Degas was gone.

How long he had been muttering to himself in the stables, Náin wasn't quite sure. It could have been five minutes, or it could have been half an hour. Time is difficult to keep track of when your mind is endlessly revisiting the same themes over and over and over...

Cursing himself for his inattention, Náin set off back into the Mead Hall, determined to find Degas and apologize- whether the boy liked it or not.

He found him on his way out of the kitchen, eating. Whether it was second breakfast, or a first, or if he was just eating (Men in their teens, Náin reflected, had appetites to rival Hobbits) for the sake of it, Náin did not know.

"Degas!" he called the young man's name, catching his attention. Mouth still full, Degas half-turned to face the Dwarf, his face full of suspicion and altogether unfriendly.

"I would speak with you, if you would," said Náin, bracing himself. Remember, he thought: you deserve this.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine noted that Marenil joined them, and offered an apology that he had not thought of calling him to their artisan meeting.

Eodwine saw Saeryn join them later yet. She spoke quietly, hardly looking at him. Now what? Something was eating her. Oh, it must have to do with that drop-jawed look she had given him when he's sent Trystan to the privies. They would talk about that later.

He listened to Stigend and Garstan trade their thoughts on how the kitchen should be rebuilt. Something was on edge in Stigend, and it made Eodwine more on edge himself, against his will. It did not help that this Trystan had come to them out of the shadows of the stables, seemingly trying to steal a horse and then cover his tracks. It had put Eodwine more on is guard than he cared to be. He would have to find something to do after this meeting to ease the edge.

Marenil took a turn to speak, and what a speech it was! Eodwine stared at his new steward in wonder. Had the man just listed off over a dozen things to better the holdings? Eodwine did think that he had. But this was getting off track. Eodwine wanted the kitchen matter dealt with first. He smiled warmly at Marenil.

"Your list of ways to better these holdings is grand, and beyond my coffers' depth, I fear, good Marenil. I would that you make a list of these betterings. Start it with the betterment that is most doable and lowest in cost, ending with the least doable and highest in cost. Also, number them in order of the most needful to least. But do so after this little meeting.

"Garstand and Stigend, I would that we have the kitchen fixed so Frodides and Kara are happy and not tripping over each other. I care not whether it hoves against the mead hall or is twenty steps away. But I want to hear the two of you air your views now, and I want you to come to an agreement before we finish our breakfasts. Say on."

[Nogrod]

Stigend looked at Garstan but he nodded back for him to start. Stigend was not at all happy with that as he felt himself a newcomer around, but after the second nod he gave in. “Well, if you want us to build a kitchen Frodides and Kara will be happy with, we will not be building a corridor." he said, looking questioningly to Garstan.

"The faster they get to the Hall the easier it is for them, and the warmer people get their meals. What my friend Garstan here said, surely is an issue." he nodded towads Garstan appreciatingly. "The fire safety is a thing to be considered. But if the firewall is built carefully and wide enough, and the people who use the oven are not careless, it should not pose a real threat. And the savings in winter heating are considerable enough." he looked over the table to see how people around it reacted. Especially he tried to catch the expressions of Eodwine and Marenil. The first showed no sign of anything, but the latter seemed somewhat pleased with the idea of saving something.

"With all these things sir Marenil has stated here, it would be easiest and most flexible to start to build the kitchen adjacent to the sleeping quarters. That would leave the things open to any plans to follow. For the next summer we could have an outdoor fireplace to save the main building from any overheating.”

Stigend had clearly made more than he had thought himself capable of. He wasn’t used to make speeches like that. Normally the bosses said what they wanted and then he had just performed what was asked. But here his opinions were clearly appreciated, or at least listened to. And what came to Eodwine, he deemed to require him to tell his mind.

“The corridor surely could be made, and I can build it. That is no problem. But we would need a lot of prime quality wood there, as they would have to be both long and straight. Building a long and narrow hallway demands highest quality timber for the corridor to be stable and safe.” He nodded to Garstan who was sitting across him. He had a feeling that he had managed to speak his mind but still something was nagging him from inside, something was forgotten...

“But surely, that is only my opinion, I’m sure Garstan here has some points to give us.” Stigend nodded to Garstan and smiled to him in a friendly way “We may have our different areas of expertise, but at some agreed point they surely will come together. I’m not saying that we should do as I say, but after Garstan has made his opinion clear, you should be able to decide on the proceedings.” With that Stigend nodded to the lord Eodwine and cut a piece of sausage to fit his bread....

[Celuien]

Garstan nodded. The carpenter spoke well on the kitchen.

"A wall of stone around the place of the fire would do well to guard the timber against the flames. I can build that, and with more ease and less cost than to make the corridor.

"Yet, I say still that setting the kitchen apart makes the safety greater, for there is more time to put out a fire when the space betwixt hall and kitchen is more.

"Here is my thought. Whether we build the kitchen apart from the hall or against the sleeping quarters, we may see nearly the same to safety. A wall or hallway may serve nearly the same for a fire break. Nearly. But the small loss in keeping the kitchen with the hall is paid back in fewer steps for Frodides and Kara. Should we build the kitchen again where it stands, I would say only that we should make it larger to leave space from the wall for the fire to the wooden walls of the great hall. I will abide my lord's judgment in the matter."

[littlemanpoet]

Both carpenter and stoneshaper looked to Eodwine, expecting a choice made. Ah well. He gave thought to the main things behind all their words. Indeed, these artisans, known usually for their closed mouths by and large, were at no loss for words when the matter touched upon their own differing views of the same point! Eodwine allowed himself a smirk - - on the inside!

He cleared his throat. "Now then, Stigend has said that food is hotter the shorter the hallway. True enough. Safety from fires is also a great matter, and the firewall must be wider than the one we have, and built with care, and next to the sleeping quarters for winter heating. To that I say I would not have windows blocked, nor would I make folk suffer in the summer heat with a hot kitchen oven the other side of their walls. Stigend is right that if a hallway we build between Mead Hall and kitchen, it must be well timbered and sturdily built.

"Garstan agrees that we ought to do all we may to keep the oven fire in its place, but says that should it begin to burn out of its place, a kitchen so many paces away is safer for Hall and guest rooms than one at the back of the Hall. And Garstan agrees with Stigend that the kitchen must be bigger.

"There are many things, then, that must weigh into the matter, but some of greater moment, some less. So-"

Just then, a rather imposing presence announced itself with a most impregnable clearing of the throat. Into the Great Hall marched Frodides with stormy brow, followed by Kara who seemed as if she wished not to be seen. Frodides ceased her promenade before the table where the five were gathered.

"Am I to understand that you are discussing my new kitchen without me?"

[Kath]

Kara returned from the Hall, bearing the empty trays she had taken the food in on. Well-schooled in the art of accidentally overhearing conversations, having been under Frodides' tutelage the past few weeks, she had meandered around the room for a while, looking busy. She had, therefore, caught much of the conversation focused on the kitchen, a subject of great interest to her it being her workplace, and one she thought Frodides would be glad to know about as well.

Disappearing through the door she quickly made her way back to the kitchens.

"It seems we are to be moved." She said, placing the trays on the side to be washed, waiting for the coming questions. She didn't have to wait long.

"Moved? Where to? And on who's authority?" The strong voice began with curiosity, but swiftly changed into a defiant tone.

Quickly filling her in on the plans that were being discussed Kara waited to see whether Frodides would rather wait for a decision and then argue it, or interfere now. She had noticed that the older cook seemed to have little fear when it came to Eodwine, and although she still treated him with the respect he was due, there was still an air of familiarity that spoke of a time when their roles weren't quite as far removed. However, whatever friendship Frodides had for the Eorl it wasn't about to stop her getting involved in discussions about what she still termed 'her' kitchen, though the odd 'our' was thrown in on occasion if Kara was in the room.

"Are you coming, girl?" Frodides' voice pulled her from her musings and she raised her eyes to see another pair fixed on her, equally demanding and questioning. Knowing she wouldn't hear the end of it if she didn't go, Kara followed Frodides out of the room, hanging back as they reached the Hall, and watched as her mentor strolled right up to the table and spoke her mind.

"Am I to understand that you are discussing my new kitchen without me?"

There was a moment of silence as the men adjusted to the new appearance, and Frodides didn't let the chance to speak go to waste.

"My Lord," She began turning to Eodwine, "as much as I respect you I think it was a great discourtesy on your part not to include those who work in your kitchens when discussing arrangements for their renewal or relocation."

Kara saw that Eodwine had the grace to look a little contrite, but was sure she saw a smile being hidden behind the hand that was raised to his mouth.

"And you, master stonemason. I understand that you wish to move my kitchens further from the Hall than they are now. Do I have that right?"

With an uneasy glance at the others Garstan nodded slowly, seemingly a little wary of admitting to this apparent sin.

"Then I offer you a deal." Frodides continued, beginning to build up a bit of steam. "If you can cook a meal where these new kitchens are to be placed and deliver it to this room as piping hot and carefully set out as it was when you set off then I won't say a word against moving. But you mark my words it won't be possible."

Without waiting for an answer from the man she whisked round to direct the same glare at Eodwine.

"That goes for you as well, my Lord. You've been in my kitchens many a time and know the work we do, we don't have time to go traipsing through corridors. Safety is important, you won't get an argument from me there after that roof collapsed on me, but good service is important too and you'll get less of that the further you move us. So my good Eorl what is it to be? There are ways to keep fires safe as I believe I heard our carpenter say, and they don't cause me to leave ovens unattended in my kitchen while I walk miles to serve food."

Finishing her little speech Frodides nodded and folded her arms across her chest, awaiting her reply. Observing the faces around her she decided to compromise a little.

"I'll say nothing against making it bigger though. The girl and I can hardly move for falling over each other as it is."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"I would speak with you, if you would," said Náin.

Degas looked down at the dwarf, secretly and somewhat shamefully glad that his higher stature gave him an excellent excuse and ability to look down his nose and glower.

"Aye, and would it, Master Dwarf, be in words, or in shouts?" Degas's feelings toward the dwarf had not much changed since the night before. He wished fervently that he had responded to Nain as a commoner in a tavern might; a slight to my dignity? I shall remedy it with an highly dignified punch to the face! But he reflected upon the situation with some regret; to hit a dwarf seemed so... wrong. Like hitting a very furry and gravelly child. And the dwarf was too low to get much impact behind a punch anyhow... And who kicks dwarfs?

Degas stood still, his arms crossed before him, struggling with thoughts unbecoming of one that wanted to maintain a certain image of aloofness and uncaring. He waited for Nain's response, waiting for the dwarf to reveal for what reason he had come.

[Formendacil]

"I would speak to you in measured words, if I might- in contrast to last night," Náin clenched his jaw as he replied to Degas. The greater height of the man did not intimidate him (few Dwarves, wisely or foolishly were intimidated by height). But the temptation to forget the whole matter, or to blow up in shouting, or to just slap the foolish boy in the face was strong.

"In fact," he pressed on, before Degas could get another snide comment in, "it is about my behaviour last night that I wish to speak."

"Oh?" Degas didn't bother trying to hide the sarcasm. "Did Eodwine interrupt you before you were finished? Have you got more to say?"

"Would you be silent for a minute and let me get on with it!" Náin burst out, grabbing Degas by the tunic.

"I am trying to apologize to you for my behaviour last night!" he shouted at the boy. Then, realizing what he was doing, he released Degas, drew in a deep breath, and continued in more normal voice before Degas had recovered his wits.

"It was wrong of me to barge in on you, your sister, and the Lord Eodwine. It was wrong of me to raise my voice at the lot of you. And... it was wrong of me to be so brusque in apologizing. I would have your forgiveness, if you can give it."

Feeling more awkward than he had yet that morning, Náin clasped his hands behind his back and rocked slightly on his heels, awaiting an answer.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Degas looked down calmly and brushed his tunic into obedience. Still quiet, he looked at the dwarf's face and responded casually, though with a touch of coldness.

"A slight to me is worth little mention. I have been called worse things in my time than a child. But you caused hurt to my sister. Lady Saeryn shed tears after your outburst. You would do better to beg her forgiveness than mine, as mine you will not receive until a smile once more lights her eyes."

[littlemanpoet]

"No," Eodwine agreed, "the kitchen cannot be built aback the guest rooms; that is sure, and for that I need no 'yes you may' from our excellent cook." He grinned up at her, and she raised one brow, her arms crossed in front of her, looking most lordly as long as the topic was her domain. Eodwine chuckled inside, but kept it there.

"I do like better a kitchen at a remove from the Hall and guest rooms, maybe ten paces. I would have the alder courtyard untouched, so all the more weight bears to having the kitchen away. Frodides, one thing that Garstan has not said in his own defense (if I may borrow a word from Gondor), is that the hallway between kitchen and Great Hall would be of need built to hold in heat. So it is done in other Mead Halls.

"So I give my yes to a larger kitchen, away from the Great Hall, a bigger oven, and a hallway between that holds in the heat. What say you to that, Frodides?" The head cook opened her mouth to speak, but Eodwine interrupted before she could start; he turned to Kara who had been trying to look inconspicuous. "What think you, Kara?"

[Formendacil]

From Degas' point of view, Náin's face was unreadable, emotionwise. Had he been able to peer into the Dwarf's head, he would have seen that the tense look on Náin's face sprang from having bitten his tongue- quite literally.

"It grieves me to learn I caused your sister tears," said Náin, completely honestly. "And it is my intention and desire to seek both her forgiveness, and that of the Lord Eodwine- into whose chambers I barged. But they are in council and you, Lord Degas, are not."

"Saeryn was not in council when you saw her earlier," Degas could not refrain from mentioning. "She told me you sought me."

"My reasons are my own," said Náin, jaw set slightly askew and tense. "Though it is no business of yours, the simple matter of it is that I wished to embarrass neither myself nor your sister by speaking in front of that newcomer."

His fists clenched, and his temper set somewhat on edge, Náin made to move away.

"I have asked your forgiveness, and would have it," he said to Degas, "but my part in amending the matter is done, and I would move on to amending it with others. Have I your pardon, or no?"