Eorling Mead Hall

[Ealasaide]

Elián couldn’t help but raise a surprised eyebrow as a stout and indignant hobbit burst out of the bracken almost directly underneath the point of his dagger. He took a step back and, not without considerable effort, managed to choke the snort of laughter that threatened to escape him down to an amused smirk as the hobbit blustered through a rather angry introduction of himself. Smiling, Elián sheathed his dagger as requested, though he still kept his sword drawn, held slightly behind himself and down.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said politely as the hobbit completed his bow. “Allow me to apologize for the bunny-rabbit remark. I had no idea that such an illustrious person as yourself would be skulking about in the bushes like that. I am El… eh, Elbörn of Belfalas. At your service.” He offered a hobbit a shallow bow of his own, hoping that the fellow hadn’t noticed the slight hesitation over the name. He had only decided to lie at the last second as it occurred to him that it might not be such a clever thing to give a Shirrif his proper name, be he Shirrif of The Shire or of wherever. Elián had decided to own up to Belfalas, however, as it was fairly obvious that he came from the coast. As there were literally thousands of sea-farers in the vicinity of Belfalas it was hardly incriminating in and of itself. Besides, the name of his home port was tattooed on to his upper arm, in the crossbar of an anchor. It wouldn’t do very well to deny it as he would be branded a liar the second his arm was bared.

Hoping to distract the hobbit from any further inquiries, Elián continued in friendly tone of voice. “I can’t say as I would recommend hiding in the bushes like that as a common practice. It’s a good way to get oneself killed.” He dropped the Shirrif a quick wink. “If I’d had a bow and a handful of arrows about me, I might have shot first and asked questions later.”

As the blustery look began to fall again across the hobbit’s face, Elián pressed on, not letting him get a word out. He had noticed the hobbit had cast more than one furtive glance back into the undergrowth as they were talking and began to suspect that maybe someone else was concealed there yet. He leaned toward the Shirrif.

“And speaking of hiding in the bushes,” he said softly, as though begging a confidence. “I get the impression that you conceal someone behind you yet. Would it be the good Mrs. Shirrif, by any chance? Or perhaps another young lady that the good Mrs. Shirrif would perhaps rather not know about. If so, I can certainly understand your desire for secrecy. You can bid her come out now. I will do her no harm.”

[Folwren]

Javan could not believe his eyes when the hobbit burst forth from their hiding place, right up to the stranger. He couldn’t get himself to move and he winced as he heard Falco’s angry sounding salutation, expecting any moment to hear him cut down by the man’s sword. But no blow fell. Instead the man returned the introduction with his own name and home country. Javan began to breath a little more and he peeped about through the leaves.

He was just getting the courage to step forward and go out when he heard Elián (or Elbörn as Javan would call him) speak concerning him. “And speaking of hiding in the bushes, I get the impression that you conceal someone behind you yet. Would it be the good Mrs. Shirrif, by any chance? Or perhaps another young lady that the good Mrs. Shirrif would perhaps rather not know about. If so, I can certainly understand your desire for secrecy. You can bid her come out now. I will do her no harm.”

Javan flushed red up to the ears, indignant towards the suggestion. He thrust his way through, his boyish face screwing up into the most grown up scowl he could muster. “I’m not a girl!” he said angrily, facing up to Elbörn with puffed chest and clenched fists. “So just you take that back! And I’m not afraid of you, anyway!”

[Ealasaide]

Elián couldn’t help grinning as the boy charged out of the thicket, rising like a hungry mullet to the bait that he had cast upon the water. He threw a lightning quick glance behind the youngster just to make sure that there was no one else in the thicket that needed to be drawn out, hoping that there were only the two of them. He was running out of calculated insults and would be hard-pressed to come up with anything else off the top of his head that would be inflammatory enough to pull strangers out of the hedgerows, yet mild enough that he could apologize it away once the remark had served its purpose. Thankfully, he saw no one else.

“I’m not a girl,” sputtered the boy, nearly purple with rage. “So just you take that back! And I’m not afraid of you, anyway!”

“Ah, sorry, mate,” Elián responded cheerfully, adopting a much less formal tone with the boy than he had taken with shirrif. “It was an honest mistake.”

He dropped his sword into a relaxed position at his side as the boy continued to eye him suspiciously. “I take it back,” he added after a moment and was pleased to see the high color begin to ebb from the boy’s face, returning his features to a reasonably normal hue. Elián had learned years ago that children should never be discounted as potential allies. He didn’t have any children of his own, but had discovered through hard experience that they could turn out to be valuable friends or dangerous tattle-tales, depending on how you treated them… particularly the independent little guys like this one seemed to be. Seeing the boy at least temporarily mollified, Elián turned his attention back to the shirrif.

“There was a dead man on the path not too far back,” he said. “And the sound of fighting nearby. If there is trouble, I would be happy to assist you in any way I can, or, at the very least, travel with you as far as the nearest town. I’m a skilled hand with a sword. Perhaps I can be of use.”

[littlemanpoet]

Falco had not so long ago been the kind of hobbit who based his impressions of others solely on appearance; one particularity actually: size. If someone was not a hobbit, it meant that someone was Big. And if someone was Big, that someone was Trouble. Not to be trusted. All that had been dashed by Falco's adventures with the Elven maiden, Uien, along with other Elves and Humans, in the attempt to rescue Eodwine, held captive in Hills of Evendim already a year ago. And here he was in a land of Big People, some of whom thought him trouble (he thought of Thornden with an inner grin).

This fellow was, however, downright outlandish, even for the Eorlingas. From the seaside, he claimed to be, and if he didn't smell of it, he certainly looked oddly dressed enough for it. But the question that faced Falco was, did he trust this fellow enough to tell him what was going on?

Maybe a little of it, and time would tell how much further he could trust him.

"Well, Elbörn, if that's your name, you can be of help if you choose, for we may have need of aid, me and Javan. Or the town's a mile off thataway, if you prefer to leave us now. And if you heard fighting, then fighting's what it was, and to the death, if you saw rightly. As to the dead man, he could be an outlaw, or it could be an Eorling. I haven't seen him, so I couldn't say. But any road, we were going to that ruin of a tower that you can just barely see through the trees there."

"Then let's go see," Elbörn replied gamely.

"I'll go first then since I'm quietest on my feet, and Javan in the middle, and you can take up the rear."

Elbörn did not resist the hobbit's insistence, and thusly they made their way until they came upon Eodwine, Thornden, and the others - - with Ritun and Lefun lying in the midst of them, lifeless.

"Rilef?" Falco called. "Rilef! What's happened to him?" The hobbit pushed his way through and around legs to the side of the twins.

"He's - they're dead, Falco. Killed by the outlaws," said Eodwine. "I'm sorry. Who is your friend?"

Despite his catching throat and pointless rage at the now dead killers, Falco quieted himself and introduced the fellow calling himself Elbörn.

[Folwren]

The silence in the clearing was very deep when Falco, Javan, and the stranger arrived. As quiet as the three came, their footsteps could clearly be heard. Thornden looked up and around towards them, not knowing who to expect, and when he saw who it was, at least who Falco and Javan were, he could hardly have looked more surprised.

The third one was a complete stranger and he was soon introduced by Falco, who gave his name and origin. The man had come a long way and stumbled upon them upon an unfortunate time. But that would soon be all set to rights. Shortly, they’d head off to the Mead Hall again. Things would be set back in order. And, Thornden thought, he would find out how Falco and Javan came to be there after both being ordered to stay behind. He looked at his younger brother and then back at the hobbit and doubted not a little that Falco had quite a bit of hand in it.

But sifting to the bottom of that would wait. There were heavier and sadder things to see to. They had prisoners now, and a dead friend to take care of.

[Ealasaide]

As Elián followed his newly found companions, Falco and Javan, into the clearing where another party had already assembled, he could tell at once that something horrible had taken place just prior to their arrival. Someone who had apparently been greatly loved by all had been killed and still lay where he – they? – had fallen. Sensing the gravity of the moment, Elián sheathed his sword and tried his best to remain out of the way as the others went through the sad and deeply personal rituals of recognition and grief. Curious, he stole a glance past them at the individual who had been slain and was startled to see two torsos adjoining a single set of legs. He looked away quickly in a conscious effort to avoid gaping at the poor soul. Souls. He had never seen anyone like that before and was disappointed to run into him, them, after their deaths. They might have been interesting to get to know.

Oh, well, he thought to himself. So it goes. Elián turned away, letting his attention shift from the dead fellow – fellows? – to the other faces assembled around the clearing. He found them to be an odd mixture of folks to be out chasing outlaws around the woods: two of what he would consider professional fighting men; two villagers, probably tradesmen, with their children; and a woman holding a pair of goodly-sized dogs. The woman seemed to be watching a handful of prisoners, while the others hovered over the dead fellow. Fellows.

Elián that hoped he didn’t know any of the prisoners, as that could not possibly lead to anything good. He was just beginning to sneak a careful glance in their direction when his attention was yanked back toward the group surrounding the dead fellows.

“Who is your friend?” asked the older of the two fighting men, obviously the leader of the group, addressing the hobbit Shirrif.

As Falco made a quiet introduction of Elián as Elbörn, Elián offered a deep bow. He could see the man was a high-ranking nobleman of some kind and, as such, he was entitled to a good deal of courtesy.

“At your service,” said Elián politely as the introduction was finished. “I seem to have arrived at a bad time. My condolences for your loss.”

[littlemanpoet]

Suddenly there came from the road the sound of many horses galloping. The sound died away suddenly to be replaced by urgent voices calling. One voice rose above the rest, giving orders.

"That will be the muster form Meduseld," Falco said. "Javan and me, we took it upon ourselves to give word to the King's men that you were in need, Eodwine. But it seems you didn't need as much help as I thought you might."

Falco gave Thornden a quick glance and smirk, noting the young almbudsman's narrowed eyes looking at him.

It was not long before the small party was joined by a captain from Meduseld and a few followers.

"Halt!" he yelled, raising his arm. The line of men running stilled with not a little jostling back down the path.

The man took stock of the situation, then gave greeting to Eodwine.

"We'd heard there were outlaws about. It seems we are not needed. And you've killed yourselves a two headed monster into the bargain."