[littlemanpoet]

"Well said, Frodides," Eodwine replied. He smiled at his cook. "Let us return to the Mead Hall, my friends." Randvér and Marenil followed him back out of the kitchen.

Eodwine had not known Frodides very long, having become a regular at the White Horse Inn, the Mead Hall's old name, just months before Bêthberry had decided to run off on adventure and leave it in his hands, cahooting no doubt with the King to have him Eorled. Eodwine shook his head. And the Frodides had noised about ending her time as cook once a suitable replacement could be found. That replacement had now been found, but truth be told, there was enough work for both Kara and Frodides, even with Ginna's help on top of it all. And he still had to find a new hostess, somehow. The train of his thought finally made it to the point he had been aiming for: he was happy to have Frodides about. She was solid and stolid and knew when to apply barbed word as well as salvy speech. And that was all beyond her excellent cooking! So he hoped she would not leave any time soon. She would be needed, especially with a new property for Eodwine to see to. Which reminded him of Marenil.

Once they had sat down again, Eodwine broached the subject as they ate and drank.

"Marenil, I recall the many ideas you had to improve this place."

"Yes, Eorl."

"I thought well of them all as good ideas but did not feel them all well-suited to my Eorling." Eodwine paused and let the silence bring out whatever question might be poised in Marenil's mind.

"Pray, what, lord, do your words this morning tend toward?"

Eodwine smiled. "The King has given me the land of Sorn, to turn it into the new ways. The very same ways you had spoken of. I will of course obey the king's wishes. But I need a man I can trust to go there and see this thing through. What would you think were you that man?"