Eorling Mead Hall

[Nogrod]

"I do agree with you on this one. We should all talk this over, not just us two, but all of us, everyone... and tonight if possible. The sooner the better." Stigend said looking at his friend to the eye. Garstan nodded in return.

"Would you three come to our room upstairs? We have more space in there and if I recall it rightly you haven't visited our quarters as a family yet?" Stigend added, now already smiling a bit, an assuring look on his face.

"We will accept your invitation. We'll be there in a moment." Garstan replied and turned to leave.

"By the way. Let's also think of different solutions to our problem too? If we could give Garmund and Cnebba a challenge that would force them to trust and count on each other? That might make them friends again, even stronger friends as they were. I would be very happy to see that. But it might make it even harder for us to bring them back again if it goes wrong." Stigend called after Garstan who was already on his way.

Garstan stopped and turned to answer after a second of thought.

"I'll promise to think of a challenge. It sounds good indeed - if we just can come up with a good one... See you soon!" Garstan called Stigend and continued towards his quarters.

Slowly Stigend turned around too and started climbing the stairs wondering what Modtryth and Cnebba had been talking about meanwhile and what would be the mood in there as he would enter their room.

[Thinlómien]

Cnebba sat on the floor, playing with his favourite wooden horse made by his father. Modtryth sat on the bed, patching Cnebba's old trousers. Both were in deep thought.

"Mum?"
"Yes, Cnebba?"
"What's going to happen this evening?" He was trying to make his voice disinterested and indifferent.

Modtryth laid her work on the bed. "Once your dad comes, we must discuss." Cnebba turned around to face her, still holding the horse. "Me too?" "Yes, you too, Cnebba." She made a little pause before continuing. "And eventually, we three will discuss with Garstan, Garmund and Léodern." Cnebba made no reply, but turned his back to his mother again, and started playing again.

Modtryth sighed and took up the needle and the cloth.

[Kath]

"Then I will demote her to head cleaning girl, and make you hostess. That is my thought." He sighed. "And maybe a bad one. I have let my own wishes get in the way of what is best, and I am sorry for it. I think we will all three of us do well to sleep on this and speak more of it later. Good night, Kara."

Shocked at Eodwine's words it took Kara a moment to realise he was leaving, but as his good night fell she jumped up from her seat and took his sleeve between her fingers to gain his attention and stop him. Of any talk that had gone by tonight this was the most startling to Kara and she was determined to put an end to it now.

"My lord, I agree that sleep would do us all well, but not if all it will do is encourage this latest thought. If you demote Saeryn now it would be as though you were punishing her for not wishing to marry you."

Eodwine's mouth opened in protest but Kara barely noticed, agitated as she now was, and she swept on.

"Even if that is not your meaning the gossips that speak of your every move will certainly make something of it, and Saeryn too will be hurt by such a decision. She has thoughts to leave, Eodwine, you know that. Treating her like a, a child will only encourage those thoughts. If she believes she isn't wanted here or that she is a burden to you she will not stay."

Kara paused a moment to let Eodwine absorb what she had said and to give herself a chance to calm down. She was aware that her words could be seen as insulting and she had no desire to offend the man who had given her work and a home and made her feel so welcome. Still, it was important he understood what would happen if he went through with something thought up in the heat of a moment.

Softer now, with humour in her voice, she continued.

"And as for making me hostess? I have no noble blood in me and would not have the first idea of what to do. I like my position well enough thank you, lord. In any case, Frodides would have your head if you took me away now when she has just got used to sharing her kitchen. She likes Saeryn but would not take kindly to training another girl up from scratch just when she's done hammering her wisdom into the last one."

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine listened to Kara's sudden outpouring of words with a mixture of shock and subdued delight. This girl had hidden a lot of spunk up until now. It was obvious that having spent so much time with Frodides had added some spice to the girl's delivery, and Eodwine liked that too. He liked most of all the common sense and earthy, homey wisdom coming from Kara. Now she was waiting, with some mild shock at her own forwardness, for his reaction. She seemed just a little frightened.

He smiled. "This is why I wanted you to stay and listen, for I do not wholly trust myself in matters touching the lady Saeryn. You speak sense. And a fine cook and ruler of the kitchen you'll make if and when Frodides decides to bequeath the title upon you. I will take your advice, Kara, and make no decisions in haste. You are right about Saeryn, I deem. We shall see how she acts on the morrow.

"I fear that the words of the Queen today, as well as those of the King, have tripped me up a bit, and I am as unsettled as a foal trying out his legs for the first time. A good night's sleep it is, then, and I want you to see yourself to bed in not too long a time either! And now, good night, and pleasant dreams!

"Unless there is anything else?"

[Kath]

Blushing at the unexpected praise as well as in relief that she wasn't being sent packing for so boldly arguing with the Eorl Kara shook her head. The mention of the King and Queen had her curious but she could see the tiredness in Eodwine's eyes and was sure that her own reflected the same.

"No, lord. I'm glad that you will take the time to think this over but you are right, it is time to sleep, and I will do so just as soon as I've got this kitchen in order. Good night, and sleep well."

Eodwine smiled at her, his gaze sweeping over a room that no doubt to his eyes seemed sorted for the night already, but he made no comment. Nodding to her he left.

Truthfully there was little to do. The preparations for the morning had been done before Frodides left for the night, and Kara had finished her tidying up before sitting down for the intense conversation that had just gone by. She knew though that she needed to relax before she tried to go to bed or she would be up all night, and washing the table tops would do that nicely.

Gently she smoothed the cloth in circles, nodding and wishing a good night to those who wandered past or through the kitchen on their way home or to bed, until at last she felt calm enough to sleep. She blew out the few remaining lights and made her way upstairs.

[JennyHallu]

Twilight had long ago faded when Linduial returned to the tower room. A sleepy-eyed maid helped her unlace the silk dress and brushed out her dark hair, releasing it from its braid. A preoccupied wave from her mistress dismissed the girl, who left in relief to finally go to her rest.

Lin slipped into a soft linen shift, and wrapped a deep blue satin robe around her. It was an exotic thing, brought by her brothers from the far southeast beyond Harad, covered in elaborate embroidered panels that told a fantastic story of stylized dragons and a beautiful princess, but today she wrapped the silver sash tightly around her waist and stepped out onto the balcony without a second thought of the fierceness of the dragons or the ethereal beauty of the raven haired princess.

The cold sea breeze buffeted her face, clearing the last of her uncle’s delicate wine from her system and pulling her hair out behind her like a pennant. This high up she couldn’t feel the spray of the waves dashing against the cliffs beside the harbor mouth, but she could hear them, taste the salty brine like nectar in the back of her throat. Lin had always empathized with those last desperate kings of Atalantë; had understood the undeniable call the sea had for her ancestors, and sorrowed with them, felt their rebellion and their guilt, when the storytellers revealed the consequence of their hubris. It wasn’t fair! How could something so lovely and so loving as the ocean’s waters hold such danger for her people?

And today her uncle had offered her a dream almost as powerful.

Lin’s mind had not stopped racing the same circles since she’d left the dinner table, giving her family a distracted courtesy and practically fleeing back to the safe harbor of her room. One day. One day only to make a decision that would set the course of her life, for better or worse. She closed her eyes in the wind, letting it rush over her features until the laminar flow had soothed her battered nerves, stripped away her doubts and insecurities, and left her mind and soul bare before the raw power of the sea.

It was time, now that she was calm, to think over what Imrahil had suggested.

The evening had begun simply enough. She’d found her seat at table, the melancholy that was becoming habitual preventing her from wondering why she was seated at Imrahil’s right hand. It was not her usual place; she was but the youngest daughter of the Prince’s younger brother, and Imrahil had grown children of his own to share his table. Thinking back, she realized that the worried gaze her father had turned on her until she’d mechanically began eating had been followed by a significant glance at his brother, who’d nodded and turned to his niece. “Ah, little Linduial,” he’d said fondly, “we were so relieved to hear you had been rescued and were coming home to safety.”

“Thank you, my lord Uncle.” Lin’s response was adequate, but barely so, and Imrahil was not willing to let her wallow in what must have seemed to him a childish sulk.

“We were also glad to hear that justice was done, and we may now rest in peace about your safety,” he pushed, his formal tone indicating that an answer was required.

Lin remembered his surprised look at her vehement response, and realized that she herself had been startled by how much she cared. Nothing had seemed that important since her return home, but then, no one had asked her that question.

“Justice was not done,” she’d said, her voice low and firm. Her dark eyes flashed with the terror and misery of her capture, and her uncle had sat back, a thoughtful expression filling his eyes as he heard her out. “Men were killed, two before my eyes. An innocent servant of your daughter, my lord, and a man whose mind was little more than a child’s. How is his death justice, when he had no understanding of his crime? And—“ She realized how loud her voice had ridden, and flushed at the piteous looks wafting her way. Poor Lin, that’s what they were thinking. Poor little lady Lin, who was kidnapped. Pretty little thing, but…helpless without her brothers along. “—the man who rescued me,” she continued, barely above a whisper, “who risked his life in saving mine…he is a fugitive. How was justice served?”

Imrahil looked across at her with the same pity in his own eyes, and she tried to turn away from it, but his voice held her. “Oh, my dear,” he said, looking at this young creature who reminded him so deeply of his beloved sister, now long gone away to Minas Tirith and thence beyond, the first casualty of Denethor’s madness. “You are not little Lin anymore, are you?”

The love in the question demanded honesty of her, and she would not disappoint her uncle. “My lord, I have not been little Lin for many years. Not since the storm that crushed the city when I was fifteen. But this…” she waved her hand in a vague gesture, meant to indicate the events of the past few dark months. The prince seemed to understand, so she went on painfully. “This has shaken me more than I can bear, and I would give anything to be little Lin again, free to delight in presents and parties, in poetry and praise. But I’m not the same person that I was, and the days will not turn back. I am no child anymore, but I am without rudder or sail, and I know neither how nor where to set my course.”

“But you did before,” he stated gently, urging her carefully through the tricky shoals of her depression.

“Ah, uncle,” she sighed, with a little wistful smile. “Remember how when I was small, you and father both used to call me Little Bird?”

He laughed. “Of course I do. It was just after Lothiriel’s wedding. Farlen and I took you through the mews and the menagerie to see which sort you were. You tried to sing with them. Thank goodness your voice improved with age.”

“And lessons,” she laughed softly with him, “but I remember which birds were my favorite. The canary and the kestrel.”

He nodded. “An interesting pair, those two. Certainly couldn’t survive long together.”

“Well, up to now, Uncle, I’ve been the canary, content to enjoy my fine feathers and sing my glad song, safe within my gilded cage. I liked being spoiled and cosseted and petted, and rebelled against anything that might rattle my serenity. That’s why I went to Rohan in the first place, to escape some imagined plan that might force me to change my ways.”

She paused, and Imrahil murmured for her to continue. A server took her soup bowl and set down the fish course. She couldn’t remember having finished the soup but the bowl was most certainly dry. She took a dainty bite (ah, the seeming years since she’d enjoyed properly prepared swordfish) and washed it down with a sip of the crisp white wine before going on.

“Now I think I am more like the kestrel. I am impatient with the cage, anxious for the hunt. The song I wish to sing is wilder, harsher, freer. And father…”

Imrahil nodded in perfect understanding, earning him a grateful look from his niece. “Farlen and your brothers are the jesses.”

“They do not mean to be,” Lin rushed to explain. “They only love me and mean well, and I do not wish to seem ungrateful for their care…”

“Hush now,” he laughed at her. “I love them too, I understand.”

She smiled sheepishly at him. “They just want me to be happy, but they want me to be helpless little Lin again. They bring me presents, and try to protect and coddle me, and expect me to be like any other wellborn child, doing my embroidery and planning my wedding, and before you ask, yes I have a suitor, one of the Rohirrim, who I plan to entertain seriously, but neither he nor I are ready for marriage, and if you expect me to wed anytime soon yet give me choice in the matter, you will be disappointed.” He laughed and Lin laughed with him, pleased and surprised to find herself feeling somewhat alive again, finally able to ignore her father’s pointed glances. Finally, someone was asking her what she wished in her life, and didn’t care how farfetched the answer was. “But I am the kestrel, and they force me to play the canary, and as you said: the two cannot survive together. I am being pulled two ways and I fear being wrenched totally apart. And—“ she paused again, using a bite of fish as an excuse to order her words before she spoke. “—I cannot be helpless again. I have known total helplessness and total dependence, and they terrify me. I must confess I wish I were a boy. Were I but my father’s son rather than a daughter, I could go adventuring, travel the world and learn myself and what I am sufficient for. I would beg of you some impossible quest and swear you my fealty and—“

“All right,” Imrahil said, grinning as the courses were changed again.

“What?” Try as she might Lin couldn’t remember just what that third course had been. Imrahil’s offer had so floored her that she couldn’t even remember what the subtleties were, something she usually delighted in.

“I’ll take your measure, give you a quest of my choosing, and accept your fealty. That would free you from your father’s house, and give you the purpose you’re so desperate for, the quarry for your hunt, little hawk. But only if you’re sure that’s what you wish.”

“I-I don’t know. Truly, I meant it only as a passing fancy.”

“So you’re not interested?”

“No! I mean—yes, I’m interested. But I fear I may not have thoroughly considered the idea.”

“I’ll give you some time; a day, perhaps. If I think of the quest I’ll set you on before that time, I’ll even be so generous as to let you know. I haven’t anything in particular in mind anyway. My mind’s still focused on some appointments I have to make, and I must take your measure before knowing what task you are suited for. Meanwhile…” he smiled as he changed the subject. “Tell me about Rohan.”

The rest of the meal had been filled with conversation. Question after question about the country: its people, its politics, the economy, what opportunities for trade Lin saw. The questions became more and more complex and Imrahil’s features more and more self-satisfied as she answered, racking her mind and memories for details she might have missed, innuendoes in half-forgotten conversations that might give her a slight clue as to the true answers of his questions. At one point, she’d turned to him accusingly: “But, Uncle, you know all this. Your daughter’s the Queen of Rohan. Why are you asking me?”

“I don’t know all of it,” he pointed out reasonably. “And Lothiriel’s first loyalties are now to her husband, and not her father, which is right and proper. Besides,” and his eyes had twinkled wickedly. “I want to know if you know it.”

And then the brief meeting in Imrahil’s study after the meal, the unbelievable offer of a specific ‘quest’, a role, a career, a task beyond her wildest dreams. She hadn’t even noticed the amused look in his eyes as he’d looked at her dazed face. “Only one thing,” he’d warned. “If you decide this is what you want to do, I can’t wait until supper. I hold open court in midafternoon.”

“I know what time,” she’d answered breathlessly.

“You must decide by then, and present yourself to me in formal court. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

The question, Lin decided, wind making her eyes water as she stood on the balcony, was not whether she would like to take his offer, but whether she were capable of the job it would require of her. She sighed, going inside for a moment then reappearing on the balcony with a chair and a shawl. There would be no sleep this night.

[Celuien]

Garstan walked into his room. Garmund and Lèoðern were already there, staring at each other in stony silence, waiting to see who would look away first.

"Lèoðern. Garmund. Come. We're going to see Cnebba and his parents."

Lèoðern scrambled over to the door but Garmund hung back. "Do we have to?" he asked.

"Yes. I will not have the two of you fighting. You and he will settle this tonight. Come. Now."

Lèoðern skipped down the hall, holding Garstan's hand. Garmund loped behind them on unwilling feet.