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Eodwine was watching the goings on near the stables. It was a busy morning, so soon after dawn! So it must be, he supposed, when nobility takes their leave. Eodwine was studiously turning a deaf ear to the seemingly intimate words passing between Degas and Linduial - and smirking a bit, considering that Degas was now the 'pot calling the kettle black'; at least, so it seemed. Just then, Léof came up to him from the stables.
“Sir? A traveler just arrived – said his name was Trystan from Dol Amroth. Or, he didn’t say he was from there, but Farahil recognized the accent. Anyhow, I probably wouldn’t have said anything, except that I found him, well, hiding in an empty stall… he didn’t seem too happy to find me and Farahil in the stables with him. I can’t prove anything by it… but I thought you ought to know.”
Léof looked as doubtful of the young man as his words sounded. Eodwine looked at the man, who had been watching him carefully, only to look quickly away in seeming fear when their eyes met. Eodwine narrowed his eyes. Such a way with the eyes bespoke falsity or fear, or both.
"My thanks, Léof. I will talk to this Trystan."
Eodwine was just about to go to the young man when he noticed that Saeryn had taken charge of him and had led him off to the kitchen. Very well.
"It would seem, Léof, that Saeryn has the matter well in hand. I will hear from her later. Thanks again. You did well to warn me."
Léof thanked him and went back to the stables.
Eodwine approached Degas and Linduial, their moment together seeming to him to have lasted long enough to have said whatever it is they had thought to say. He made a point of not reading their faces, for it was not his business to pry into the hearts or minds of others unless asked.
"Good morning to you both, Degas and Lady Linduial. I trust that Léof and others of this house have done well by you?"
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