Eorling Mead Hall

[Folwren]

“That’s what I can’t wait for,” Javan said, beginning to shovel the food into his mouth. “He said that after he sees if I can handle the horses I’ll be able to do more.” That wasn’t exactly what Lèof had said, but Javan had probably forgotten. “He also said that we might be able to teach the horses how to jump.”

“I did not say that!” Lèof cried, stopping with his hand midway between his plate and his mouth to look at Javan.

“Well, I think you were going to, before that girl screamed and we ran out to see what was wrong,” Javan said, looking sideways at him as he continued to eat.

Thornden looked from Javan to Lèof and back. A small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth as he saw the mischievous glimmer in Javan’s eye. Of course Lèof had not said anything like that. At least...Thornden hoped he had not. But Thornden did not think that his brother would let it rest. He did not know Javan extremely well, but he knew him well enough to know that the boy loved adventure of any sort. He’d have to watch him and make sure that nothing dangerous or damaging happened.

But jumping the horses was not really Thornden's concern or business. He would say nothing, until Lèof had answered, and only do so then if Javan made another contradiction or argument.

[Firefoot]

“No, I wasn’t,” Léof replied firmly. “It’s not a good idea, Javan.” He glanced over at Thornden, who thankfully did not seem to be taking Javan’s rendition of what Léof had said seriously.

Javan was frowning and there was a stubborn set to his jaw. “But - ”

“But nothing,” Léof cut in. “We aren’t jumping the horses.” He hated to sound so harsh, but why had Javan had to bring this up again? Léof had thought it was settled. And now, to start the argument in front of Thornden… Léof still did not feel so secure that he was above wanting to make a good impression on Thornden, all the more so when it was his brother they were talking about. If not for Thornden’s presence, Léof might have softened his words with a, “maybe just a small jump,” or “some other time.” It did not help, either, that Javan was starting to act like a spoiled child, in Léof’s eyes. In truth, if Javan would just accept it, Léof would readily change his mind if there didn’t see any reason not to. It probably wouldn’t matter, though, and this would all blow over, Léof hoped. And Javan had seemed at least responsible enough not to do anything reckless or stupid. Maybe Javan would even forget about the whole matter.

[Lhunardawen]

Ginna found Frodides alone in the kitchen when she returned from the well.

"Where's Modtryth?" she asked as she put down the heavy water jug on the table, much to the relief of her wounded hand. She quickly checked the bandage. It was still in place, and without a trace of blood she was relieved to find. There was only the throbbing.

"In the Hall," the cook replied, placing a tray of freshly baked bread beside the jug, "serving those who have just arrived. What took you so long? You know we need your--"

She looked up just in time to catch Ginna letting go of her bandaged hand. Concern flooded out her preoccupation. "Your hand bled again? Well it was my fault for--"

"No, no," Ginna interrupted, holding out her palm to Frodides. "It just hurts a little, but I'm fine." She answered her questioning glance with a smile, then reached out for the tray in front of her. Frodides did not seem reassured.

"Are you sure you'll be fine? I don't mean your hand," she added when Ginna opened her mouth to speak. "The twins are out there."

Can she read minds? Ginna wondered. She had just been hoping (in vain, she knew) that Garreth and Harreld would no longer be in the Hall when she went out there again. Or perhaps Frodides saw her and Harreld and heard their exchange? Her heart skipped a beat at the thought.

Frodides seemed to have seen the puzzled expression on her face. "Lefun and Ritun," she elaborated. Ginna thought for a moment, then laughed - half at the memory of that morning's events, half in relief.

"It was just an initial shock. What happened this morning should be enough to teach me not to be frightened by them."

The cook smiled. "I better not hear that bloodcurdling scream again, then." She turned her back on Ginna, bowl in hand. Ginna left the kitchen carrying the tray of bread, and met Modtryth who was on her way back. "I'm sorry," she whispered to her, and the older woman smiled and waved it off.

Apart from Lefun and Ritun and the hobbit who was with them earlier that day, there were three other new people on the table: Lèofric, the ostler whom Ginna met that morning, a younger boy, and another man. Surely there are more females in this household than I've yet seen? Ginna thought. She caught a glimpse of Harreld staring down at his empty plate as though in a daze, and his twin Garreth was talking - or trying to talk - to him.

As she approached the table, Ginna took a good look at Lefun and Ritun, and was quite surprised to realise how quickly she grew accustomed to their appearance. They were no longer frightening, nor even half as strange as they seemed at first. The hobbit noticed her and scowled a bit; his companions followed his gaze. Ginna gently placed the tray in front of them, fighting down the blood rising to her cheeks.

"Good evening, Master Hobbit, Lefun, Ritun," she said loud enough just for them to hear amidst the scattered chattering. "I'd like to apologise for what happened this morning. Honestly, I meant no offence, and I promise it would never happen again."

[Folwren]

Thornden understood the situation entirely. The smile grew larger on his face and he looked down as Léof almost glared at Javan for a brief instant. But the ostler looked away almost at once. Thornden knew Léof well enough to know that he didn’t like giving such an absolute and hard no. Thornden glanced at his brother swiftly. Javan wanted to press his point and Thornden knew that it wouldn’t be nice of him to do so.

“Javan,” he said abruptly. The boy looked at him. “Léof has said no and you need to take that as your answer.”

“But-” Javan said again and even when Thornden looked a little harder at him, he still went on, but in a softer, more pleading of a tone. “It won’t hurt anything, Thornden. Please talk him into it.”

“Absolutely not. I have nothing to do with the horses here. You have been put under Léof’s authority in the job of keeping the horses and the stable, and you’re going to obey him without question.”

Javan shut his mouth and looked away. He didn’t feel like questioning his brother just then. Not when there was a hint of fierceness in his voice over the matter. He decided that it would be best to leave the idea of jumping the horses alone, at least for a while. He comforted himself with the thought that there would be other interesting things to do.

And with new ideas springing up in his mind, he set again to eating his supper. After a few bites, though, a new subject jumped to his mind. He leaned forward towards Thornden and half whispered, “Have you me those fellows over there?” He nodded his head towards Lefun and Ritun. Thornden scarcely moved his eyes in their direction and he positively scowled at Javan.

“Yes, I’ve met them. Sit up and be civil.”

“But are they…safe?” Javan hissed back.

“Lord Eodwine would not let anything unsafe in the hall,” Thornden muttered quietly, giving Javan an annoyed glare.

“He might have jumped in over his head this time,” Javan said, sitting back and returning to his meal. Thornden deemed it wise not to answer. “What do you think, Léof?” Javan asked after a momentary pause.

[Firefoot]

Léof hesitated. He did not like being dragged into this disagreement between Thornden and Javan, and he did not know which was a more uncomfortable topic: jumping the horses or Lefun and Ritun. “Well, maybe…” said Léof. But when Javan seemed to take this as an agreement and about to tell Thornden so, Léof hastened to add, “But they could hardly help the way they were born. I think you ought to listen to your brother and trust Eodwine’s judgment. I highly doubt that the Hall is in any danger."

With that he returned to his meal, brooking no further discussion and hoping he could finish his plate in peace. The conversation could hardly get more touchy after all this.

[Kath]

Kara thought over Náin's answer carefully, feeling almost ashamed that she knew so little of the history and beliefs of his race. Even the words he used were foreign to her, and she marvelled that those words hadn't changed since the dawn of time when the tongue of her own folk changed with mere location. She wondered how much of his history Náin would be willing to share with her, for if it was all as intriguing as the little she had just learned she would be an eager student. But for now her thoughts were still concentrated on the question at hand.

"Why then do you choose to be friends with a human? What makes you decide that the friendship is worth the pain of the loss?"

Náin paused once again before answering Kara. Deep questions were worthy of equally deep answers, and as they were also questions he had not truly asked himself, he was not quite certain of the answer he could give.

"I am uncertain if you are referring to myself or to the entire Dwarven race," he said, stalling somewhat as he pondered the question. "If you refer to my entire people, I suppose it is unavoidable. The Lakemen have a saying that I have heard that no man is a puddle, by which they mean that we are all bodies of water joined by rivers and streams. We all have contact with ours. And this is as true of races as of individuals.

"For us Dwarves it began as simple practicality. We are poor farmers, and men were poor craftsmen. The situation has changed little. We continue to live most closely with men who provide us with food and whom we provide with goods of a quality they could not provide. And we are allies together in face of a greater enemy."

Náin was looking in Kara's direction, but his eyes did not seem to focus on her, as if they were looking far over the many leagues to the Lonely Mountain and his father's home.

"Though the relationship of Dwarves and Dalemen is mutually profitable and respectful, I would not say that many Dwarves have forged friendships with many Dalemen. Few of our race befriend those who are not Dwarves, and only then when they feel it merited. We give our loyalty only after serious thought, but it is then given for life."

The answer was thoughtfully given, yet Kara didn't feel to have gained a reply. Mutual need might give rise to alliance and even acquaintance, but friendship? She didn't think so.

"But what about you? Have you ever made friends with a human. Given them your loyalty?"

Dwarves do not generally flush in a perceptible way, due to their ruddy complexions, but Kara was almost sure that Náin got a touch redder. Náin, of course, had realised that he was talking to a human.

"Never before I came to Rohan," he said, clasping his hands behind his back as if he didn't know what else to do with them. "But since I have arrived... I am not sure. I had always assumed there was some special moment of change from mere acquaintance to loyal friendship. Now, I think I have learned better. There is no perceptible moment when a block of marble becomes a statue and ceases to be a block of marble."

Náin, who had generally been avoiding Kara's face, now looked her squarely in the eyes.

"I would be proud if you might call me such a loyal friend," he said, his often wavering and tentative voice as steady as the hills. "You have treated me with kindness, patience, and respect, and I would fain be able to return that as I might."

Kara was struck speechless at the unexpected and entirely flattering gesture. Her questions had come from mere curiosity, not any desire to discover whether Náin thought she was a friend. She wondered for a moment whether what she had said had caused Náin to feel that he had to offer her his friendship, but as she looked down into his serious face she realised such a suggestion was foolish. If she had learnt anything so far that day it was that Dwarves do not say things they do not mean. A smile graced her face as she finally found her voice and replied.

"And I would be proud to call you a friend, Náin. It is an honour to be regarded so highly that you would want me as one, and I will try to be worthy of your faith."

The Dwarf bowed his head in the shy manner that Kara had become used to, making his next words muffled, but still causing her smile to widen further.

"The honour is mine, and I have no doubt you will be a good friend."

"Well come then!" Kara said, pushing off the stone wall she had been leaning against. "Let us take lunch as friends so you don't have to carry that basket around all day."

It seemed that Náin was not averse to the idea, and the two sat by a small stream running through the midst of the old ruins, happily munching on all that Frodides had packed for them. It didn't take long for the meal to be finished, but as Kara stood to pack the basket again she realised that they must have spent more time out than they thought as the sun was already beginning to set.

"I'm sorry Náin, we might have to cut the journey short a little or we won't be back until long after dark."

Náin nodded gravely, and took a last glance at the ancient Gondorian ruins about them. They had not belonged to a fortress or great palace, but to a less grand, but equally enduring, homestead. The Dwarf thought it likely that this had been the main house of a large country estate, probably handed down in the same family for centuries. When had it finally been abandoned? In which invasion had the last son of the family failed to return? Which disease had driven the last settlers away?

"It has been a good day," said Náin. "I do not think it necessary to prolong it. And I would not keep you out past sundown. Though I think you have little to fear in my company, I would not deprive you of a full night's rest."

Kara laughed, mystifying Náin who had seen nothing amusing in the suggestion that there might be unsavoury sorts out to menace them, but the Dwarf said nothing, and took the basket from Kara. He had long since learned that humans laughed easily, and was no longer much concerned by it.

Sure that Náin had no inkling that her laughter had less to do with the idea that something might attack them but rather more to do with the other possible connotations of his words that she was sure Frodides would join her in a giggle over, Kara happily began the journey back to the Hall. They walked fast as the light was already almost gone, but it was still fully dark by the time they arrived. Seeing that the front doors were now closed they made their way around to the kitchen door, which always stood open until Frodides retired for the night, and slipped through it into the warmth.

"Ah!" Cried the old cook, catching sight of them at once. "I was wondering where you'd got to. How was your walk? And your lunch master Dwarf, was that acceptable? There are some who would have seen you go without it!"

Náin's brow wrinkled a bit.

"I do not take your meaning," he said. "Do you mean that someone wished to prevent us bringing lunch wiht us?"

It was a bit peculiar to consider, but Náin was more comfortable with Frodides than with most denizens of the Hall. Perhaps it was that her no-nonsense approach to things was more Dwarven than most. The look that Frodides gave him, however, was completely incomprehensible to the Dwarf, for some reason.

Unsure as to whether Náin honestly believed there was some conspiracy afoot that intended to stop people having lunch or whether he was, in his own way, joking, Frodides gave him a hard stare and gave in.

"Well, never mind. You had it and that's enough. Now then, I suppose you've noticed the rest of the Hall has already put themselves to bed - are you going to take some supper before you do the same or have you tired yourselves out enough for one day?"

Both Náin and Kara replied that they would in fact go right to bed, having eaten lunch late and not yet being hungry again.

"Alright then. Off with you." Frodides said as she shooed them out of the kitchen, blowing out the lamps as she went. "There are some new bodies around that'll need introducing but that can be done in the morning. Goodnight!"

And she disappeared before Kara had time to question her.

"Do you think she means new guests?" She asked, casting a quizzical look at Náin who simply shook his head in matching confusion. "Oh well, we'll find out tomorrow I suppose."

Standing now at the top of the stairs Kara was overcome by a wave of shyness. The day had been pleasant and she had greatly enjoyed learning so much about Dwarves and Náin himself, yet now she wasn't sure what to say.

"Umm, I - thank you," she began haltingly, "for a nice day out I mean. It was a lovely way to spend my day off and we must finish the walk one day. So, um, thank you and ... goodnight!"

Turning on the spot she headed to her room at a pace not quite fast enough to be called a run, but close to it, leaving Náin standing in puzzled silence.

[Kath]

The inhabitants of the Hall awoke the next morning to an emptier house than was usual. The Lord Eodwine was nowhere to be found, and nor were the newcomers Lefun and Ritun. Even the little troublemaker Falco had seemingly disappeared. Those who came in for breakfast looked toward the empty table at which Eodwine usually sat with confusion, and it wasn't until a brave soul dared interrupt Frodides at work that the reason for the absence of so many was discovered.

"They're on a day trip." Was the snapped response to the query. "Eodwine wanted to see this place the twins have been living in so off they went this morning to have a look at it. And that Falco went along too. Not invited as I recall but he does have a nose for interesting happenings. Out you go now," she finished, forestalling any attempt at further questioning with a thinly veiled threat, "or there'll be no breakfast for you!"

The news spread fast, and by the time the last regular had arrived in the form of little Leodern asking to see her new friends there wasn't a soul who didn't know that the lord of the Hall was gone for the day. Only time would tell whether the place would burn to the ground without him.