Eorling Mead Hall

[Folwren]

A few of the men-at-arms from Meduseld stood clumped together to one side of the night’s fire. They ignored the dying flames, now that the sun’s light peeped through the window of the small room - the fire’s heat and light would not longer be needed. They spoke quietly together until one of them laughed and stepped back.

“Nay, not me, friends,” he said. “I’m well enough off here. But Thornden here might be willing.” He motioned with his head and thumb over his shoulder towards a figure sitting off alone underneath the window. The pouring sunlight fell on a piece of paper in his hand and his head was bent above it. “He needs a change of scenery.”

One of the man’s companion’s laughed and looked at Thornden. “I say, fellow, what’s the news that keeps you so secretly apart?”

Thornden raised his head and looking up, caught sight of all four eyes studying him. An easy smile broke out across his face. “Nothing secret,” he said, folding the letter and tucking it away in a pocket. “My sister has had a son, that is all, and she was writing to tell me of it.” He stood up, unfolding his long legs and walked towards the others. “But what’s kept you and your heads locked together for so long? I’ve a right to ask that question, now I’ve told you what’s in my letter.”

“Have you heard the news - about the new mead hall? King Eomer has set Eodwine of the Gap over it. He’ll be needing all sorts of people. . .men-at-arms, and whatnot.”

“I wouldn’t need so little a change of scene just to become a guard somewhere else,” Thornden said, nodding to the man who had said that earlier. “Too much trouble for too little change.”

“No, but he’ll need a bailiff of some sort,” another one said. “And you with your, well, imposing figure, would be enough to scare any villainy out of any villain as soon as you walked into the room! Eodwine wouldn’t have any trouble for months, if you stayed around.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Thornden asked, laughing. He stopped their cries of protest and defense, waving his hand. “No, no, I understand you mean no harm. But that is an interesting thought, now isn’t it? And being out of the regular guard and being there would give me a chance to see. . .at least my sister, if not the others. . .” he was elapsing back into his own thought, still talking aloud. His four companions stood by, listening and watching intently, waiting to see if he would make up his mind. And after a moment, he did. His head lifted again and his merry, hazel eyes had the answer written inside them. “Well, I think I’ll take your idea and go. The worse he can do is say that he doesn’t want me, and then I’ll come back and join you. No doubt it’d be a simple matter enough. Where’s the captain?”

It took little time to make his request and get permission to leave the company of guard, and before an hour had passed, Thornden was walking away from the Golden Hall and down the cobbled streets of Edoras, towards the new mead hall. His tall, broad figure brought a few glances as he passed through the familiar streets, but he paid no mind. He knew the way to the old White Horse Inn and his feet with their long strides brought him quickly to the front doorway. There, he paused one minute, glanced down at the old sign of the White Horse leaning against the wall and at the building materiels gathered about.

Well, this was it. Something new was to begin here, hopefully. He put his hand to the door latch and went in, bowing his head ever so slightly in the doorway.

[littlemanpoet]

After Særyn left them, Eodwine handed the measuring rope to Gudryn. "Break your fast, my dear, before you're blown away by the wind. And ask Frodides if there might be any fare for me, if you please."

"Yes, father!" Gudryn grinned and ran off to the kitchen.

Gárwine looked to be a stout young lad, if a little dirty and travel worn. Eodwine, in his turn, seemed tallish and well kept for a man of his forty or so years. His hair was the color of corn ripe in the cob, but soft as silk; and his eyes were the deep blue of the sky on a hot summer day at noon. He smiled quickly and often.

"Well met and welcome, Gárwine," Eodwine said. "Who is your father? And what brings you here?"

And so the conversation began. Eodwine learned of Gárulf, and of the king's orders upon the young man.

"You would be a guard in my hall then?" Eodwine looked him in the eye, but kindly.

"Aye, I would, lord."

"Well then, we must swear oath each to the other, and then I must decide just what I need guarding from! But first, food! You look hungery!"

It seemed that Frodides had not only arrived to prepare breakfast, but had done so very quietly and unnoticed while he and Gudryn had measured the room's fixtures: Gudryn brought out with a tray bearing three hot mugs and three plates piled high with eggs and rashers of bacon, and hearty black bread. Eodwine and Gárwine pulled a table away from the wall, set three chairs about it, and the three of them fell to.

Not long after they had begun to break their fast, a tall man came through the front door, a warrior in the employ of Meduseld by the look of him. Eodwine wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stood.

"Hail, Eorlinga! I am Eodwine of the Gap, Eorl of the Middle Emnet. How are you called, and how may I host you?"