Eorling Mead Hall

[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.

[Hama Of The Riddermark]

Edoras came into view slowly, for neither the rider not the horse had a great deal of strength left for haste. He lifted his head slowly, and the barest traces of a smile cracked upon his wearied face. He was home at last. He had come back to Eomer, as he had promised he would.

The hard campaign against the outlaws in the Westfold had taken more than he could have dreamed out of him. His force had been ambushed, destroyed utterly by the villainous cutthroats of the wilds. He, as a general, had been taken captive. He had been tortured for many weeks, subjected to the most appalling pain, but he had not broken. It was not in his blood to do so. Eomer had entrusted him with a mission, and he would die before he broke his word to the king.

His horse clopped slowly up the long path towards the gate, and the rider lifted his head to see the banners of Rohan flying proudly in the wind. All was not lost, then. He had not escaped for nothing.

For escaped he had, one night, when the outlaws were roaring drunk, he had cut his bonds on a sword they had carelessly left lying by his bed. He had taken up the sword, dressed himself once more in his general’s armour, for they had kept it as part of the ransom on his life. Roaring a war cry, he had fallen upon the drunkards like the wrath of Helm Hammerhand himself. Drunk as they were, those that escaped his sword had fled. Exhausted, he had saddled one of their horses and started his ride for Edoras and King Eomer.

The sentries on the watch were struck dumb as they saw him approach. They had doubtless though him long dead, but with an almighty cry of “Open the gates!” they swarmed to let him in. He smiled, genuinely this time, the first smile to cross his lips since many weeks ago. He rode his horses slowly up the streets, dismounting in front of the Meduseld and walking creakily up the steps to it. The guards stared rather indecently at him, and when the doors opened, he was relieved to see a familiar face come out of them.

“Haleth…” he spoke, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

“You…are the luckiest…how…we all thought you were…”

“I know, old friend.”

“You look terrible.”

“I know.” He said, his face splitting into a grin. He drew the man into his arms and embraced him like a brother.

“Tell the King I have returned, Haleth. Tell him I have survived.”

“I will, old friend, but you should get yourself to the inn. You look like you could be blown away by a gust of wind. Get some food and ale in you, clean yourself up…The King will not object, I am sure.”

“I will. Thank you, Haleth.” Embracing the captain once more, he descended the Meduseld steps and made for the inn. He felt dead on his feet, and he desperately needed a drink. People stopped and gaped in the streets as he mounted his horse and set off towards the Mead Hall. The whispers caught on the wind made their way to his ear and he smiled again, as though making up for lost time. The words lifted his spirits more than he would ever speak.

“General Hama has returned…”

Beating the familiar path to the door, he pushed it open weakly, stumbling slightly as he walked in he was very glad to find the comfort of a chair. Reversing it, he sat down at the table and called for a drink.

“A pint of the house, please.” He said, audibly.

[Folwren]

Javan was once more the first one out of bed and away to the stables. He was up almost as early as he had been the previous morning. He dressed quickly and silently and went out. Lèof was up before him again, but this morning, instead of cleaning out a stall, Javan found him saddling a horse.

“'Morning, Javan,” Lèof said, “Go in and get Falco’s pony’s saddle. It’s the smallest one in there.” Javan almost stopped to ask him why they were preparing horses so early for riding, but he stopped himself before speaking and turned to obey first. As he came out with the saddle in both arms, he asked.

“Why are we getting the pony ready? And that horse? Who’s riding out so soon?”

“Lord Eodwine and Falco are going with the twins somewhere. Hurry up and saddle the pony. He’s ready.” He nodded towards the little horse as his hands busied themselves on Flíthaf’s girth.

Together, they finished preparing the horses for riding and then led them out. Eodwine and Falco with Lefun and Ritun were coming out of the hall. Eodwine quietly thanked them and took the reins. The two boys watched the company of four leave the courtyard before turning back and setting to work in the stables. After perhaps an hour, they heard the sound of hooves in the courtyard. Javan was closest to the door and he dodged outside to see who it was.

The man mounted on the horse slowly brought his steed to a stop. Javan hurried forward to take the reins and hold the horse still while the man dismounted. Javan looked silently at him with wide eyes, for he moved slowly and painfully.

“Thank you, my lad,” the man said. Javan nodded and offered a small smile. The man smiled back briefly and then turned to go into the hall. Javan took the reins down from the hore’s neck and led him into the stables.

“Lèof! We’ve a new horse to tend to!”

---

Thornden

Thornden awoke alone in his room and went down to breakfast. He was not surprised when Eodwine and the other three were not at the hall. Eodwine had told him the night before that he would be leaving early.

Thornden got his breakfast together and went out to take a seat. He ate alone that morning, and he ate quickly. He wanted to check on Javan that morning to make sure that all was well. As he had lain on his bed the previous evening, trying to sleep, he had thought more of the conversation that had taken place at the dinner table. Perhaps the short disagreement that took place there meant more than it first appeared. Were the two boys getting along together? Was Javan too much of a burden to Lèof? Was he too young for the job? These were questions he would have to ask Lèof.

He had scarcely finished eating and was just rising from the table when a new figure entered from the main door. Thornden looked up at him and nodded in greeting. Something about the man’s face told Thornden that he knew him, or at least recognized him. But his name...?

“A pint of the house, please,” the man said as he seated himself.

Thornden nodded and at once moved to fetch it, taking in his breakfast dishes as he did so. A military man, obviously. Thornden had seen the weariness about the man. But even with that weariness he carried himself with that unmistakable uprightness of a soldier.

“Fordides, we have a guest,” he said, as way to explain his appearance in her kitchen. “He wants a pint of mead.” Fordides silently filled the order and handed the mug to Thornden to carry out. Thornden took it mutely and hardly saw her.

Why was he thinking officer? Captain. . .General. . .General. . . Thornden entered the hall again and looked up at the worn face, the bright eyes looked up at him as he entered and Thornden dearly dropped the cup. General Hama, of course! Of course? More like, of course not. How could it be? Thornden had only seen him once or twice and that was over a year ago while he was still part of the guard. Since then, their paths had never crossed, except when Thornden saw him ride out with his company of men. Then, he had been missing for weeks, perhaps months.

Thornden placed the full mug on the table before the general. “Sir,” he said quietly as the man reached for the mug. “Will you need anything more?”

[Taralphiel]

Lys woke and with his now comfortable slow care dressed in his simple slacks, tunic and boots. One he had to keep loosely tied to fit the tight bandage on his lower leg. Now the pressure of the fabric was more to steady his weak bones. With a quick stretch of his arms and a small grunt, he heaved his unsteady limbs up and made out for breakfast.

Lys was hopeful he would see Thornden today. He had kept himself away from the Mead Hall yesterday, visiting Hrethel. In his keenness for something to do, he had joined the healer and helped him through the day. Lys did not mind helping Hrethel lift smaller things, cleaning thick clay jars for storing herbs, and dusting and caring for his wide collection or scrolls on his craft. Hrethel had also taken the time to check over Lys’ progress. His chest and ribs no longer ached, the damage to one arm was never really cause for concern and now was completely healed. Hrethel tutted over Lys’ right ankle, and suggested then that the boy wear the bandage, at least for pressure. He had the foresight to provide Lys with boots laced low so he could adjust for the extra space the bandages warranted. Lys had thanked the old healer with a warm hug at the generous gift, but the old man shook his head at suggesting any of it be repaid. His help every now and then with keeping his work in order was enough.

Hrethel had also observed, and given him some helpful advice on what he might do around the Hall. Armed with this and Thornden's agreeance for him to start lessons, Lys was determined to be helpful in his own way.

Lys spotted Thornden, but seeing him attending to his duties, he chose not to disturb him. A man, looking newly arrived with obvious signs of travel, sat at a table as Thornden brought him a pint. Lys did not recognise this man, but wondered at his dress. Obviously this person did not travel for trade or even leisure. Lys coloured at how rude he must seem, staring at the man who was clearly a soldier. He turned away, hoping nobody had seen his rudeness.

Lys finished his meal, and seeing that Thornden was otherwise busy, he headed for the stables. Lys admitted his curiosity, and hoped that maybe Javan or Léof would be able to tell him who the newcomer was.

[Firefoot]

“Untack him and walk him out,” Léof called. “I’ll be there shortly to help brush him down.” There were only two more stalls that needed mucking out, and now another would need to be bedded down for the new horse. He finished these tasks up quickly enough and found that Javan was just tying the horse in the aisle. Léof retrieved the bucket of grooming supplies and was just about to join Javan when Lys walked into the stable.

“’Morning, Lys,” said Léof, waiting and then falling into step beside him. “What’s new?”

“’Morning, Léof. I was hoping that you or Javan would know who the newcomer was. Thornden was talking to him inside, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I’m not sure; Javan talked to him,” answered Léof. “Javan!” Javan turned his head as they made the rest of their way over to him. “Did the man give you his name? Lys wants to know.”