Life in the Mark II (Free RP)

[Taethowen]

A warm southerly breeze stirs over the plains of Rohan.
It is high summer now. Crops are planted, the Edoras Summer Festival has come and gone,
and Rohan is recovering from several fires which sparked in Edoras.

Outside of Edoras, though, life marches on in its seasonal pattern.
While it is still high summer, the days have begun to shorten.
Soon thoughts will be turning to bringing in the harvest and preparing stores for winter.

You can tell (and continue) your story here.

For reference, you can find the names and locations of towns/villages, farms, outposts, private estates/homesteads, and a list of residents in Edoras on this map.


If you are traveling across or through Rohan, please use Fields & Forests for your travel roleplay.
For shopping excursions, please visit the Riddermarket.
For internal character thoughts only, please utilize Meduseld Memoirs.
For all your letter/correspondence needs, please use the Riddermark Ærendgewrit.
To introduce your character and tell us about them without roleplaying their day-to-day life, please visit LeóÞ swá Worð (Hall of Rohirric Histories).

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Thread Rules:
1. This is free RP. Assume that it is PRIVATE RP as well, unless someone states otherwise or you've been invited into a storyline.
2. Please take general OOC matters to the Golden Hall.
3. There may be occasional prompts by the threadrunner (using color #404080), but please feel free to ignore them if your RP has a specific storyline playing out. They will be suggestions only.
4. Please refrain from posting Cavalry-business RP here. That belongs in the Dragon Room or the Cavalry Courtyard, unless otherwise directed here by the Marshals.
5. All Plaza rules apply.

Previous Threads:
Life in the Mark

Other Roleplay Threads:
...even Rohan had a Montage... (Open RP) (for post-fires character development)
Edoras Infirmary--After the Fires
Wæftfald and Hofhus (Show Ring and Stables)
The Eallníwe Inn

[Taethowen]

Previous Posts with Unfinished Storylines

(Sorry if I missed any!)

w/ Sigrid

He stood dumbstruck for a moment; arm raised where he had automatically lifted his hand to hers. Then he laughed as the dust rose around him. Turning with a cheerful whoop , he jumped into his saddle and urged Banter into a canter to catch up. Dancer surged up beside them and Éo laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy, and it really was a joy to watch Sigrid ride ahead. He urged his horses on faster until they caught up then flashed a brilliant grin at Sigrid.

He didn’t say much as the horses ran, other than the occasional laugh or enthusiastic whoop. Banter slowed of his own accord after a bit, his neck damp with sweat. Éo patted his shoulder, checked the pair for lather or blowing and was pleased to see neither. “My pair don’t see the point of wearing themselves out in the sun,” he commented. Unslinging a waterskin, he took a drink then offered it to Sigrid. The watered wine was still cool and refreshing.

“It isn’t too much further to the lane that eventually leads to my parents’ farm,” he said after a bit, looking around. “It’s easier to cut across the field to Hild’s from there, it takes longer by road since we’d have to backtrack a bit. I’m not sure where she’s running the herd right now, though. Does Dash do alright with free-range horses? These two are used to them, but I know some horses get anxious. We can keep going up the road if it’s easier.”

With Éolath

Her braid worked itself free as Dash cantered forward, her long hair whipping out behind her as Dash raced along the road kicking up a whirlwind of dust behind them. She turned back and saw him jumping to onto his horse to chase after her. Her laughter rang out as she turned back to look ahead as she was not as adept at riding backwards. Only a few moments passed before he was beside her, his huge grin enough to make her heart surge like it had never done before. She smiled back at him, kicking Dash on to make it a race, laughing as he followed suit.

As the horses finally slowed she was completely out of breath too, merely nodding in agreement as she and Dash rarely went at this speed either. But it had felt so GOOD. She had never felt so free in all her life, like she was riding away from all the bad memories and riding towards better ones. Her eyes remained on him, finding it hard to tear them away any time he was close and took the waterskin he offered. Taking a big gulp, she sighed happily as she handed it back.

"Oh, going cross field is more than fine, Dash will be ok. I am sure he will be fine with other horses, he is not the jumpy type thankfully." Smiling she gave a nod to encourage him to lead the way, for a brief second regretting she hadn't opted for the longer route. It would have given her more time alone with him. As they rode on, she pushed her hair back and attempted to put it back into a semblance of a braid again, smiling happily as she realised she could have the rest of her life with him.

OOC (I trust no-one will criticise me for the double-posting given the length of my earlier post and my keenness not to keep @Eldrith waiting any longer).

Allacan, human, she/her
In a quiet part of Edoras, dusk on the day of the Riddermarket attack and Marshal promotions, with Eldrith

The other woman's reaction told her exactly what she had wanted to know. One, that the woman was thinking defensively. Two, where she had stowed her primary weapon. And three, that news of the attack on Pele had come as a surprise to her. She smiled to herself, satisfied that her earlier theorising had apparently paid off. So someone *was* trying to set up this woman as a suspect of murder, but why?! She ignored the matronly look the ex-pubmistress tried to give her for her foolish antics in climbing the tree; she knew it now for a mask that hid the woman's real thoughts.

"I didn't do it." She said in a coldly neutral voice that was neither apologetic or defensive, referring to the attack on the Gondorian. "I just arrived on the scene early enough to remove the bread-knife before the Marshals arrived and hopefully throw off a little of the suspicion that such a weapon of choice might have directed at you." She was shifting her position in the tree, untying some of the rope that had been looped around the trunk to drop it down over the bough she had used as a perch for much of the day. She lowered herself carefully to the ground; conscious that she was vulnerable to attack while she did so, but hoping that Eldrith's curiousity about the news she bore would restrain her long enough to allow Allacan to reach the ground. As her feet hit the solid earth again, she winced and stumbled sideways until she was leant against the trunk, stretching out her right foot. "Argh, cramp!" she exclaimed with a grimace as she attempted to wiggle her toes in her boots to ease off the worst of the burn.

"I don't expect you to believe me, or trust me, I know I wouldn't if our positions were reversed" she said, still carefully neutral as she tried to flex her spasming calf muscle, bending over to massage the muscle in a trusting manner that made her once again vulnerable to attack. "And I'm not here to ask questions or make allegations. I only thought you might appreciate knowing that someone was trying to set you up for murder. You can do whatever you wish with this information; I have no recommendations or advices to give. And if you wish, you can come with me while I retrieve the tools the attacker used in the attack; maybe your eyes can discern something about them that I cannot. Or maybe you would prefer to stay well clear." She glanced up at the woman with a keen look even while she continued massaging her thigh, not specifying whether Eldrith might with to steer clear of the crime or clear of the woman who reported it to her. She wondered how long it would be before Eldrith started asking whether Pele had survived the attack; the lack of query might imply that Eldrith knew more than she was letting on, or that she did not trust Allacan to speak the truth in any event. "And no, before you think it, this doesn't mean I think you owe me one or are indebted to me in any way. I have my own motivations for telling you about the attack on Pele, that much I will admit, but they are focussed primarily on pursuing the attacker and bringing them to justice, and not in any attempt to manipulate you for allegiance or information about who might have wished to set you up for murder." It was pointedly not a question, she was making absolutely certain that she asked no questions, only volunteered information without any allusion to judgment or presumption.

She winced and returned her focus to the leg. "Of course, the other reason I am here is because you requested to talk. So, here I am." She said, in a manner that ceded the conversation to Eldrith, but again did not ask exactly what the woman wanted to talk about that, though she suspected of course it was about her confession in the Campian grounds. She waited then, trying to coax away the cramp in her leg, expectant that Eldrith would exhibit much less restraint in asking questions of her, although much of that was probably justified in the circumstances. Hiding your skills with combat and then engaging in dirty fighting to eliminate opponents through injury in a public tournament was one thing, confessing to being an undercover assassin of Mordor was quite another.

Who’s Your Daddy? (‘Cause apparently that’s the official name now)

Walpurga
(Private with Moriel)

He was a Gondorian! Walpurga stiffened as her suspicions were given credence, her lip unconsciously curling into sneer and she let out a hot breath through her nose. She watched (a little too closely) as the innkeepers doted on the man like he was their son. Her cheeks reddened in sudden and inexplicable anger at this. Her mother had told her that her father was able to make around him love him. Was he pulling the same charismatic trick here? It was confounding. She narrowed her gaze at him. She pictured herself charging over to his table, knocking the spoon out of his hand and wiping the smug expression he had off his face. She could picture herself standing over him in that moment and…

“What can I get for ye?” The voice was suddenly very near and loud. Walpurga shook herself out of the angry daydream that had begun to play behind her eyes as the woman stood before her with a wary look on her face. Walpurga suddenly realized that she had not been doing a very good job of remaining inconspicuous in her observations. She reddened and gulped loudly, trying desperately not to look the innkeeper in the eyes. “I think… I’ll have the, the ah, if you have another meat pie that would be nice,” she sounded far too mousy and kicked herself mentally, “and maybe a mug of summer cider if you have any…” she trailed off, staring intently now at the wide open door. She fought down the urge to bolt.

The woman nodded mumbled something under her breath that Walpurga couldn’t quite make out, and disappeared around the corner. Walpurga’s appetite was dead but she had to come up with some reason for staring at the man so intently. Then, mortifyingly, the man actually looked over at her! And acknowledged her! Her mouth went utterly dry, she fumbled about with her pack, attempting to look busy with something until he looked away.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered to herself. “Foolish, foolish girl!” Her voice, despite being nigh completely silent, was raspy dry.

The proprietress carried out a tray of food and drink, with decidedly less fanfare than she did for the Gondorian. There was a look in the woman’s eyes that Walpurga thought she could almost interpret. Was it suspicion? Pity? Concern? Worry? Anger? Perhaps it was a mixture of all of them. She looked after this man with the protectiveness of a mother. Did she view Walpurga as a sudden interloper? A stranger bent on doing harm? A silly girl following a crush? If she was being honest with herself, Walpurga knew she was being a bit of all three.

Doubt crept into her mind, a slow, steady whisper in the shadows. What was she doing? Was she really going to confront this man, this perfect stranger over something she was not even half convinced was true? If she were an outside observer she would have laughed at the utter absurdity of it. There was no way this man was her father. The galloping stars be damned! But… what if? How would she know for certain that this man wasn’t her father, or connected to her father unless she confronted him, talked to him, made him tell her the truth? Could she really walk away from this? She had spent twenty years not knowing who her father was and she turned out just fine, albeit with far more animal friends than sapient friends, a broken relationship with her mother, and the dreadful loneliness that followed her like a shadow. What would she gain from knowing this man was, or wasn’t, her father? Would the haunting memories of the fight with her mother suddenly feel worth it? Would she feel complete?

“Do you want him to tell you why he never acknowledged you existed?” she chided herself. She could feel herself on the verge of tears. She took a drink of the cider. It was good, the apples were strong and sweet with a bite much stronger than she had expected. The cider burned as it pushed down her throat. It felt good though, the buzzy feeling in her head kept the dark thoughts at bay. She picked at the meat pie. It smelled amazing and Walpurga felt guilty for ordering something she had no intention of eating. The idea of such wasted effort galled her.

“I deserve to know,” she told herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep calming breath. “I deserve to know who he is at least. I deserve to know who my father is despite what my mother thinks of him. It’s my right to find him.”

Fine. Fine. She was going to do it. She was going to talk to him. She was going to confront him and, and… and what? She was halfway to standing when she realized she had no idea what she was going to say to the man. What do you say to a man that might be your father? Hey you might be my dad, what the hell is up with that? Hey dad, wanna go ride horses together? You’re an asshole and I never want to see you again? Her stomach churned unhappily. She sat back down. Then stood up again. She swallowed hard, exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, and ran her fingers through her hair. She was going to do this. Standing there, she realized her only two options were now to run or to confront.

“Excuse me,” she said walking on legs that felt like pudding. “I think, were you…” dammit all what no! “did you pass through the town of Benton twenty years ago? I think you might… you could be…” well this was going well “Do you know a woman named Ethelgifu?”

House of Wycliffe
Edoras, Riddermark

Corlisswyn stared at the house she now owned in sadness. Her dear uncle Wycliffe welcomed her into his home back almost a decade ago when she first came to Edoras from Buckden. She had been called back home as her father fell ill and always expected to return shortly to Edoras. That was five years ago, and she has since lost her father; her horse, Roan; her husband of only three years, Gleddon; and now her uncle. With little to leave behind in Buckden, she gathered the small sack of treasures and belongings, purchased a young mare she named Epona, and return to her uncle's house and take up residence.

Her husband, Gleddon had been a welcome addition to the poor company her father, Eorfoldhild, provided. Once her father had passed, Corlisswyn and Gleddon had plans to move to Edoras at Wycliffe's invitation, but a sweating sickness took the town by storm, and in no time at all, Corlisswyn was now a widow. It would be another year before she could pull herself together to once again take up Wycliffe's offer to come back to Edoras, and just as she had sold her home and most of her belongings, word came of Wycliffe's passing.

Corlisswyn did not want to return to Edoras under these circumstances, but as fate would have it, she was now without attachment, with a home and some wealth in the city. She only hoped there were still those who remembered her as a young vibrant woman, and she prayed to Bema for the courage to start over again.

Lailyn at home, with Æric and Edda
“Oh look at that!” she exclaimed, pleased with the nearly-complete new stairs. “That’s much better.” And if she’d had the last of her things delivered today instead of yesterday, she thought the cart driver might have appreciated it. He’d had a few choice words for her when he saw the state of things but she took it all in stride and was somewhat amused at his expense. It hadn’t been that hard to bring everything in.

“Just after dawn?” she asked. He really was an early riser. Or maybe he was keen to get the job done, get paid and move on to the next customer. In fact, reflecting upon it, Lail thought she must be right. He’d been very efficient so far and it would probably be a relief for him to finish working for her chatty, overly friendly self. That was probably for the best even though she felt a stirring of...something she tried hard to ignore when she thought about seeing him again the next day.

“Yes, I’ll be home. I’m not sure where else I would be that time of day…” she trailed off, a smile playing on her lips.

Of course there were plenty of other places she could imagine being at that time of day and most of them were not entirely respectable. Not that she meant to imply such a thing with her words. Coming home from a late night at the pub wasn’t so bad but sneaking back to her lodgings to maintain appearances that she was in fact sleeping there and not somewhere else was something she was glad to leave behind.

“But I’ll make my deliveries this afternoon," she continued with a nod of her head, "just to be sure of it."

Her attention shifted to his daughter and she greeted her back with a wave. “Morning, Edda! How are you? The stream, that sounds nice...was that your idea? Is the water very cold?”

Æric and Edda at Lailyn's house

True to form Edda immediately started shaking her head vigorously as if admitting that the stream was actually cold that her father would not let her go in it. "No! It was not cold yesterday and I went in it then, didn't I, Papa?" She looked towards her father, anxious that he was going to change his mind and not let her go in afterall. He immediately saw her fear of losing out on the play time and had already decided that she could go, he could not change that now.

"You did indeed. I am sure you are old enough to tell if it is too cold and if it is to come out, right?" Smiling he gave a wink to Lailyn as Edda nodded her head enthusiastically, not even realising he had done it before it was too late. For a moment he paused, wondering how it was that he felt so at ease around this woman, often feeling stilted or uneasy when around other people. But here he was winking playfully as if they had known each other for ages.

As Edda started jumping with excitement, he snapped out of it and grabbed the nails he had placed on the step. With a few practiced moves he had all three hammered into the step, finishing this project. Again his brows furrow, knowing that he was now done for the day and he had to go, oddly enough not really wanting to and not fully understanding why.

"There we go, one finished staircase, that should last you a decent amount of years." Smiling he slipped his hammer into his toolbelt, wincing slightly as Edda let out an excited squeal.

"Edda.." he murmured with amused exasperation, shaking his head apologetically at Lailyn. "Sorry about that.." He paused for a long awkward moment, wondering if he should extend an invite to come along to the stream or if that was inappropriate, though before he could decide either way Edda had run up the newly made stairs and had grabbed Lailyn's hand. "Do you want to come? It's not cold, I promise!"

[Moriel]

(Private with Frost)

The pie was substantial, but had soon half disappeared inside the hungry Dúnadan as he shoveled large forkfuls into his mouth, supplemented with swigs of the excellent stout and samplings of the other delicacies Bergljót had deposited on his table. There was nothing rude about his manners, but he was very hungry, and though both he and his father were competent cooks, neither of them could compare to the fare this kitchen produced. As for the military cooks in Minas Tirith- well. So it was that he came to have a completely full mouth as someone appeared at his elbow. Absorbed in his food, he had not noticed her approach, and Kamion looked up, cheek bulging, to see the young woman he had made contact with from across the room. She was quite tall for a woman he noted, now seeing her standing, and with hair as black as his own, not the type one usually encountered in Rohan- a sea of blonde and red. And, she was clearly agitated about something. Kamion chewed rapidly, cursing the thickness of Bergljót’s good pie. “I think, were you..did you pass through the town of Benton twenty years ago?” The young woman asked, seeming flustered for words, and Kamion’s mind raced. Benton? That was a small town not too far off the Great West Road, as he recalled, but had be ever been there? These speculations were interrupted as she continued, I think you might… you could be… Do you know a woman named Ethelgifu?” The Dúnadan froze, his eyes widening at the implication behind her question. What? Is she asking… surely not. He swallowed hard, at last clearing his mouth of pheasant pie. Unfortunately this had not given him sufficient time to formulate a response, and so he merely gestured at the bench seat opposite him in the corner booth, a hint of uncertainty in his fingers as he spoke.

“Er.. would you care to sit down?”

[Taethowen]

Eldreda

The house was terribly quiet with just herself in it, and Eldreda suddenly found she was grateful that Taethowen had offered room and board to her new apprentice and shop assistant. It was one thing to live by herself in a house of her own, this was still Taeth's house, however much Taeth insisted that she treat it like her own home.

She wasn't sure when these roomers would show up, though, and so Eldreda was up early and had already fixed her breakfast, washed the dishes, and tended to the... very strange chickens out back. Taeth had said someone by the name of Thalionwen might be coming by eventually to retrieve the poultry, at some point. Possibly. Eldreda knew better than to trust a promise like that.

It was only as Eldreda was rummaging through the larder for suitable refreshments, while the tea kettle sat over the fire to come to a boil, that Eldreda realized Taeth had never told her the names of the people she was waiting on.

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((OOC @Fairy Nuff & @Almarëa Mordollwen Here we go! Absolutely no rush for you to reply here. The next Riddermarket thread should be up tomorrow sometime, and it'll be Eldreda running the shop from that point on.))

[Éolath]

w/ Sigrid
Nodding at Sigrid, Éo let Banter have his head. He knew the way to the farm, it was his first home after all. The horse set the pace at a quick but gentle walk and took the turn into the lane without prompting. Éo turned again in the saddle, watching as Sigrid worked to untangle her hair. He rather liked the windblown locks but knew from experience it wasn’t always the most comfortable style. And it was annoying to comb out later.

“I could help you comb it out later,” he said without thinking, running a hand through his own curly and disheveled hair. “I mean, if you’d like me to. Hild always complained that her arms would get tired of working out the knots, and our other sister was not gentle.” He grimaced at the reminder of Æsa. Younger than Hild by a year, she had been a bossy and bitter sibling. Éo still hadn’t seen her since his return to the Mark, receiving word only from Hild saying that Æsa still blamed him for the death of his parents and did not want him to visit. He sighed softly, a slight melancholy settling over him.

“I am the youngest,” he said absently to Sigrid after a few moments, “the only living son. Did I tell you I have two older sisters? Hild is the one who stayed near my parents’ home. Æsa lives near the Entwash, but is upset with me. I’m five years younger. There was a brother, but he died of a fever during his second spring. I was born later that fall, so I didn’t know him. Mother never spoke of it, but Hild told me when I was older.” He smiled then, faintly. “She told me a lot of things that day. Like how boys smell, and that brothers are no fun once they are too big to treat like a doll, and how I had to ride the pony because I was too small for a real horse.”

Éo grinned, amused at the memory. “So, of course I used the paddock fence to get on father’s biggest stallion. I was six summers or so, and small for my age so you can imagine how huge the stud was compared to me. I fell off, naturally, and broke my arm. Hild got her butt spanked by mother, and we all got lessons on being nice. Hild was as angry as a bear at being inside for lessons every morning, she’s always been more interested in being outside and working than sitting.”

Banter turned off the lane, jumped a small hedge and whinnied. Éo glanced over the fields, then pointed. “Hild has the herds out. You can seen my parents’ house, just there. Hild and Folca live over those hills, you can just see the tops of the cottonwood trees that line the stream.”

[Lail]

Lailyn at home with Æric and Edda
Lailyn watched the exchange between father and daughter with amusement. When he smiled and winked at her, she felt her smile widen even as she heard faint alarm bells in her head not to read anything into it. She was relieved when he turned his attention to finishing the stairs, allowing her a moment to remind herself of that one very important item on her to-do list.

Edda’s shriek brought her attention back to the present and she shook her head at him. “You don’t need to apologise.” When Edda took her hand and invited her along, she hesitated for a moment, unsure what to say. It would be so easy to say yes especially to the child’s eager face. Saying no would be hard, going against what she would normally do. But it was best not to get too close at least until she could forget whatever it was she felt.

So she knelt down and gently tugged her hand from Edda’s and hoped the girl would not be too upset. As she pulled her hand away, she caught a glimpse of the scar on her palm that strengthened her resolve. A reminder not to make the same mistake twice. “I’d like to, Edda…” she began in a soft voice. “But I should stay here. I have a lot of work to do.” She paused and despite her best efforts, the words came tumbling out before she could think twice. “Maybe tomorrow will be better if you come back with your father again then."

She immediately regretted them and hoped it didn’t show on her face as she stood up. Nothing at all would have changed by tomorrow. It seemed she still hadn’t learned how to guard herself but at least she was trying.

Not wanting to leave it at that, she hesitated in the doorway. “Before you go, I want to give you something…” she said before turning back into the house for a moment. She returned with a jar of honey held out to him with a smile. “I should have given you some yesterday but it slipped my mind. Please take it. As a welcome to Edoras.” Such a simple thing was all she really wanted; to spread some small happiness to others and possibly to erase a small amount of guilt she was feeling.

[Winddancer]

With Éolath

Brush her hair? He wanted to brush her hair? Why would he want to brush her hair? She must have had an odd look on her face as he suddenly winced, immediately regretting giving the impression that having him do it was weird, especially as she found she actually wanted him to brush her hair, a shiver running up her spine at the thought of him touching her.

However his sudden change in mood had her cock her head, giving him a worried look. She wanted so badly to "fix" his past, to fix whatever it was that was still hurting him so that he could be happy all the time. But she knew well that everyone had moments of regrets or sadness and while it was heartbreaking to watch, there was likely nothing she could do to lessen his pain other than to listen, to give him someone he could go to talk.

Though listening to everything he said, she found she was watching his face more, smiling slightly at the way he would bounce around the topics and would go from being melancholy to sad to amused all in the space of a few minutes. Again her stomach did a somersault and she had to swallow hard, glad she wasn't talking right now as she was sure her voice would be strained, feeling as if her heart had climbed out of it's rib cage and got stuck in her throat.

Dash quickly followed suit and jumped the small hedge as well, the movement threatning to undo the loose braid once more. As she fought to stuff it back into something a bit less wild, she craned her neck to look at the house he pointed out, feeling both anxious and a bit sad that the time alone with him was nearing its end for now.

"This is a beautiful place.." she said honestly, giving up on trying to push her long locks back into the braid, feeling it was only making it worse as the hair was too tangled.


***
Æric and Edda with Lailyn

Æric might not have managed to teach his daughter not to squeal when exited, though truth be told he found it hard to as her joy was so contagious. But he had taught Edda not to beg or to whine. His heart swelled with pride as Edda accepted the no, even if the little girl could not hide how upset it made her, the little pouty lip quivering. Æric winced as Edda squealed at the promise of Lailyn going with them tomorrow instead, catching a flash of reluctance from the woman as she pulled from the little girls grasp.

Blast, he chided himself. Why don't you think!? His face grew hot as he surmised that Lailyn must have a reason for not wanting to go, one that she could not share with them. How stupid could he be!? He knew nothing of this woman and her past, she could have any number of reasons for not wanting to go and the last thing he wanted was to put Lailyn in an awkward position where she would have to upset Edda. He would have a chat with Edda tonight and see about having someone keep an eye on her tomorrow, afterall he was not keen on her running around where there were bees when he had to spend all day breaking up a floor.

As Lailyn presented them with the jar of honey, eliciting another exited squeal from Edda, he unknowingly accepted it a bit stiffly, unaware that his attitude could be misconstrued, though merely feeling embarassed that he had put this kind woman in such an awkward spot to begin with. Not wanting to embarass her further by declining the gift, he said "Thank you" and forced a smile onto his lips before taking Edda's hand.

Making their way down the stairs he looked back "Oh, I forgot, I chopped up the old boards and put them in a pile over there, they can be used for firewood" he said while pointing at the neatly stacked chopped wood. "I will see you tomorrow morning." Giving another nod, he gave Edda a chance to wave with her doll in her hand before leading her over to the stream, the young girl skipping happily next to him.

[Éolath]

w/ Sigrid

“It is, isn’t it?” Éo murmured, glancing around his childhood home. “I didn’t appreciate it when I was young and now…” He trailed off, thinking. At fifteen, it had seemed like a prison and all he wanted was an escape into the cavalry, a life tinged with the romantic dreams of a boy raised on the tale of heroes. Now it held the memories of home, safety, and acceptance. The land was meant for family, for growing and joy. And it was his, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to live there for years. Hild would care for it, she’d already agreed, but it was quiet where there used to be the noise of children and horses.

“You know,” he glanced at her, smiling slowly. Éo studied her, his smile softening as he took in the windblown curls and reddened cheeks. He’d been about to say something, the thought trickled in and he started, unsure of how long he’d been staring. “Uhm. You’re pretty.” He grinned, having completely forgotten what he’d been going to say. He could feel his cheeks going red, but he didn’t look away. Banter shifted under him, tossed his head. Impatient bugger, he thought and shifted in the saddle.

“Uhm, I was thinking. My parents’ farm comes to me, my sisters both have their own lands. Hild says she’ll take care of the house and the herds for when I decide to …” get married had been her words. He’d laughed then, having no desire to wed and settle down. Now, that wasn’t such an absurd idea. Not even remotely absurd. “Uhm, well…I was thinking that when you save up money for your shop in the Market, you could use the land here to grow your herbs and stuff. If you want to, I mean. Until you have enough for a farm closer to Edoras, if you want or…well, the land is good here, there is water and mother always had a big garden and stuff. You can use it, if you want.”

Éo shifted in the saddle, a little uncomfortable. “You don’t have to, of course. I won’t be offended if you want something different. I just know that…well, you said you wanted a shop and all that and I’d like to help if I can.” He wiggled a bit, causing Banter to lay back one ear and snort. “Anyway, we can go on up to the house if you want to, or start out for Hild’s.”

[Lail]

Lailyn at home, New Town
After they left and she went back to work in the garden, she realised she’d told him just the day before to make time to enjoy the city...and now she contradicted herself saying she had too much work to do. Would it have been so hard to go with them? They were new to the city; maybe in need of friends. She didn’t know if they knew many people or not, if they had family or friends in the city already. In fact, she really knew very little about them and that wouldn’t change if she didn’t take the time to get to know them.

Though she tried to do the right thing, somehow it didn’t feel right. It was true she had a lot to do if she meant to succeed and it seemed like her list of tasks was growing instead of shrinking, but she wasn’t the kind of person to push others away. He seemed to be a thoughtful, respectable person so her worries were unfounded. Obviously nothing could or would happen and anyway, she hardly knew him. So she resolved to forget her foolish thoughts and worries. Next time, she promised herself, she would say yes.

That afternoon, she finally made her promised deliveries and felt glad to have made so much progress in just a few days. By the time she returned home, she felt her burdens had lightened for the first time since moving in. Maybe she could really do this after all and maybe in time, she could forgive herself and forget her mistakes.

The next morning she somehow managed to wake up before dawn, a feat her old Cavalry officers would have been pleased with. She always hated those early mornings in her youth but she seemed to mind it less with each passing year. The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east but with trees shading the windows it was still quite dark inside. After lighting a lamp and starting the kettle to boil, she set about moving the table and other clutter out of the kitchen to clear a space for Æric to work. When she finished, the kitchen looked almost as empty as it did the day she moved in. She curled up in an old armchair to sip her tea for a few quiet moments until he arrived.

[Winddancer]

With Éolath

“You know,” he said then paused. Her eyes moved from looking around to focusing on him, wondering why he had stopped in the middle of the sentance.

“Uhm. You’re pretty.”

Her eyes went wide with surprise, not expecting the rest of the sentance to be a compliment. She had to draw in a ragged breath, her heart skipping so hard it hurt. She watched as his cheeks went warm feeling her own follow suit, her throat tightening once more making her cough slighty in hopes to clear it. What did one say to a compliment like that? Thank you? For a split second her mind went back to the group of girls back in her home village, recalling how they would act around the young men. They had giggled and swished their hair, making eyes and batting their eyelashes like they had something in their eyes. Was that the proper response to compliments?

Somehow she did not think that was how she was supposed to react, though the uncertainty had her pausing as well, her mouth finally opening to at least say thank you, as surely you would thank someone who complimented you? But before she could speak, he had already continued on. As he began talking about how he would be taking over these lands one day, she slowly closed her mouth, not wanting to look the fool as he spoke, though it immediately dropped open again as he voiced his offer. Unbidden tears welled in her eyes, quickly looking down and blinking furiously to avoid him seeing as well as actually crying.

What had she done to be so lucky to have met someone like him? Who would have known that when they first met, that this would have been the outcome? She had taken care of several young men, single men and it had never come to this, ever. Yet here he was, not only remembering what she had shared with him, about her dream of opening a shop, but that he was now willing to offer up some of his land to make it possible, to give her a place to grow the herbs that she could then sell and make a living.

She had to take several deep breaths, not trusting her voice to co-operate and not sound like she had swallowed a toad. She was at a loss as to what to do, the offer was so generous in her mind, though he likely thought nothing of it as it did not seem like he spent much time here. Though it would definitely solve the problem of where to grow her herbs, as buying them and then reselling was not that likely to be all that profitable.

Looking back up at him, hoping she was safe from tears falling, she looked at him for a long moment then realised he had asked her a question. She had to think hard for a moment, trying to recall what he had said through the jumbled thoughts of her own mind. Finally figuring out what he asked, she gave it a few more moments of thought before she decided.

"Sure, let's go see your house." A small smile lifted her lips, thinking that she would have a few more minutes to think about the offer of using his land, even though she felt slightly guilty for not going straight to his sister's house when there was a patient to see to. They would be quick, she told herself, urging Dash onwards in the direction of the house ahead.

***
Æric at Lailyn's house, eventually

Caddricks mother was a lifesaver. She had immediately said yes to watching Edda this morning when he had asked her yesterday as soon as they had gotten home after playing in the stream. He was not keen on having Edda running around amidst broken up floor boards all day long, especially as he could not trust her to stay away from the bees if she was outside. Edda had been overjoyed, squealing when she learned that Caddrick had a sister she could play with, even if the other girl was four years older. Edda had spent the night, Æric having his arm twisted by both girls and the mother, agreeing that getting up before dawn to get dropped off was a little much. Though while he saw the sense of it, he had barely slept last night, it being the first night ever without her since she was born.

Groggy from lack of sleep he had to dunk his head several times in the water barrel to the point of shivering just to clear his mind, though he followed it up with a sturdy breakfast and a strong tea to keep him going. He smiled as he saw the small basket that contained some fresh baked bread and other goodies that Caddrick's mother had packed him for his lunch and grabbed that after making sure he had everything else needed for the day.

He set a brisk pace now that he did not have Edda skipping along beside him, though his hand involuntarily clenched a couple of times as if it missed holding her small hand. The market place was only just waking as he weaved past the many shops, making quick progress when there was nothing to look at or people to wave to.

As promised, just as dawn broke, he made it to Lailyn's house, smiling slightly when he saw there was already a light flickering inside. Climbing the steps he had just made the day before, he knocked quietly on the front door, not wanting to make too much racket this early in the morning. It almost seemed wrong to be noisy this early and break the silence of the new beginning day.

[Lail]

Lailyn's house, with Æric
While she drank her tea, she idly flipped through the pages of her book and contemplated what seeds from elsewhere might actually grow here. Sketches of flowers and leaves and her hastily scribbled notes in the empty spaces revived memories of the places she’d been. From the roaring seas on the coast of Belfalas and the vast, colorful fields of Lossarnach to the seemingly endless swath of forest to the north. In the end, there was nothing quite like home.

The knock on the door was so soft she barely heard it. Could she be looking forward to seeing them enough to have imagined it? A peek out the window confirmed that Æric was indeed at the door as early as promised. She immediately noticed Edda was not by his side.

Padding toward the door in bare feet, she stifled a yawn and opened it wide. “Morning,” she greeted him with a smile. “Please come in...there’s still some tea left in the kettle if you’d like any..” She thought he looked a bit tired but would have offered the same either way. “And there’s some bread and honeycakes and some other things, too. Feel free to help yourself.” She gestured at a few plates and a bowl of grapes on the table that was now on the opposite side of the room right below the hole in the wall.

“I moved everything out like you asked...is there anything else you need or is there anything I can do to make your work easier?” She gazed at him, her eyes bright with sincerity of wanting to be helpful as she tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear.

[Eléowyn]

Outside the city, near the Snowbourn
NPC Almod, aged 9

It had not taken long after all to get the little ones settled down, as the hour was late and well past their bedtime. Almod spread the small blue-gray blanket out and arranged the younger children on it. There was no room left for him, so he found a mossy spot that was somewhat dry for himself.

He too succumbed to exhaustion quickly and slept until the first light of day was brightening the eastern horizon. It was the insistent snuffling of Léohere, which was bordering on becoming an all-out wail, that woke him. Almod rubbed the sleep from his eyes and reached for the babe, hoping to not awaken the others.

Except there was no one else there. The blanket was gone, as were Guthdred, Saewyn, and Leoflida. Almod jumped up and looked around in panic. No sign of them anywhere.

Leo’s nappy was sodden, and he was now screaming full-out for his breakfast. Almod had neither a clean nappy nor food but at the moment his first priority was finding his siblings.

Looking around, he could see that they were much closer to the river than he had realized in the dark of night, and they had wandered east of the city, out of sight of the walls. No one has come for us, he thought disconsolately.

But it was difficult to think at all with Léo’s bawling and the sound of the roaring river, which had swelled overnight from the sudden storm. “Be quiet, will you!” he shouted at his brother. Léo stopped momentarily, stared at Almod with wide eyes, then started up louder than ever. “I am sorry, little broðor,” he cooed, trying to soothe the squawling babe. “I know you are hungry. I will get us home soon. But first I have to find our brother and sisters.”

Almod turned in every direction, one hand shading his eyes from the rising sun in the east. His eyes swept past trees, river, plain, trees, river, plain—and then he saw it. A flash of color, the same blue-gray as Lida’s blanket. It looked as if a piece had been torn loose and stuck in one of the limbs lying low over the river on the far side.

When the water was low, the river was easily forded. Now it was a rushing stream of water that would come at least to his chest. How in Arda had they made it over that swollen river?

He had to find them before they were irretrievably lost. But the water was much too deep and fast to ford now with Léo in his arms. Hunger was gnawing at his belly as well, and the baby was still screaming to be fed. Almod had no idea what Mam would have him do: find the others, or get Léo back to the city.

He made a decision he hoped he would not regret. He removed Léo’s soiled nappy, dropping it on the ground. Then he took off his own shirt, wrapped it tightly around the baby, swaddling his arms and legs so he could not crawl, and laid him in the arms of two large tree roots that would keep him from rolling away.

“I am sorry again, little one, but I have to go find the others, and I cannot leave you free to crawl about, possibly into the river. I will be back soon, or maybe even Mam or someone else will find you before then!”

If all went to plan, he would the bairns playing somewhere on the far side of the river. And Léo’s wails were sure to bring someone running before too long. He kissed his brother’s forehead, then waded into the rushing waters.

NPC Leoflida, aged 2

In the early hours just past midnight, Leoflida was having a strange dream. Someone was calling to her, but she could not see them. “Come, little one, come this way,” the voice called. Suddenly, the voice turned into a crow’s cawing, and she could see a blur of black wings beating in the distance.

She woke from the dream, and being only two, could not distinguish dream from reality. She wanted to follow the bird, but Guthdred and Saewyn were still on the blanket, Léohere having rolled off some time in the night. Being the youngest girl, she was accustomed to getting her way, so she tugged hard on the blanket, dislodging its occupants. It was her blanket, after all.

Saewyn and Guthdred were startled awake. “What are you doing?” Guthdred whispered. “Broðor,” Lida replied, pointing toward the river. “No,” Guthdred hissed back, “your broðors are here.” Broðor, bird!” Lida said again, now heading toward the river.

“Stop! Come back here!” Guthdred called, now hoping Almod would wake up. But Lida kept toddling toward the Snowbourn, calling and pointing as she went. Guthdred took off after her, and not to be left behind, Saewyn followed.

The water had not yet gained full strength, and so Lida was able to step easily into the shallow water at river’s edge. There were stones in the river, and somehow she found a way, stone by stone, to cross. Gleefully she made her way, almost as if she were guided to make the right steps, until she reached the far bank. There her blanket caught on a limb, and as she tugged to pull it loose, a piece tore off.

“No!” she cried, screwing up her face to cry. But from the corner of her eye, she thought she saw the flapping of black wings, and the tear was quickly forgotten. “Bird!” she kept calling as she followed it deep into a thicket of trees. As she disappeared from sight of the river, she could hear the sound of water rushing swiftly.


@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Winddancer]

At Lailyn's house

A brief flicker of a worried frown flitted across his brow as he saw Lailyn standing there in bare feet. Feeling bad that he had gotten her up this early, he was about to apologise, but then remembered that she had said she was usually an early riser herself, so hopefully he had not gotten her up a lot more early than what she was used to. The second flicker that crossed his scarred features was for a completely different reason, leaving him confused and almost at a loss as to what to say. He could not deny that she was a beautiful woman, especially standing there as if she had just left her bed, barefooted and tucking away strands of hair. "Uh.. Morning.." he mumbled back.

Clearing his throat he thanked her for the food and drink, pushing those other thoughts aside. He knew from past experience that most of his customers would provide some kind of food or bevarage, even if he never expected it and knew it was futile to say no to it, the easier option for both was just to gratefully accept it and get on with the job, as otherwise he would be spending too much time discussing why he did not need anything.

His keen blue eyes quickly took in the re-arranging that Lailyn had done, noting that she had cleared out the kitchen and made room for him to work. "No thank you, it all looks accessible to me. I should be able to pull the boards up now." Smiling he stepped past her, setting his own basket of food and his waterskin next to the food she had prepared. Leaning the large crowbar up against the table, he took a moment to roll up his sleeves on his linen shirt before grabbing it again.

"Right, I will get straight to work then, so you can get your house back as soon as possible." Giving Lailyn a crooked smile, he carefully stepped over to the rotten floor boards, marking out in his mind how many of them he was going to be pulling up, stepping heavily on some of them to test their strength. Without looking back, he picked the first to go and pried his crowbar into the crumbling wood and started prying it loose.

[The Good Hunter]

Who's Your Daddy?
(Private with Moriel)

She swallowed hard, a massive lump forming in her throat after she spoke. To his credit, the Gondorian seemed as taken aback and confused as she suddenly felt. Frantically hoping she was not a complete fool, she looked in his eyes, his very blue eyes, for any signs of recognition and, thusly an affirmation. The name Benton seemed to hook him but when she asked about her mother, the name caused not even a glimmer. So what did all that mean? Walpurga's brain couldn't keep track of all that was happening. What was she doing? Why had she done any of this? Had she truly taken leave of her senses? He said something. What was it? Sit down? The Rohir took it as an invitation and sat down hard in the chair opposite him. She thudded into the chair, the weight of her body suddenly much more than she remembered. Her eyes glazed momentarily and she felt dazed. The room spun a bit and her vision went black around the edges, tiny spots flittered across her vision like star bursts. She felt woozy.

Then she began to speak.

“My name is Walpurga. Walpurga Sæsnaca. I was born in Benton, I’m from there. Well obviously I’m from there if I was born there. I’m sure you figured that out already though. I just, I saw your hair and, well I figured maybe you... I could tell you were from Gondor or Umbar or whatever, down south away from your accent. I met a trader from Gondor once, or from somewhere south I can’t remember where now. I, I think he said he was from Dol Amroth. Have you ever, no that’s not the point I’m trying to make. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I’m sure you have a hundred things to do and probably none of them are being accosted by a random girl in the street. I’m sorry. I should… I shouldn’t be here. I need to… is it… I think you might be my father.”

There. She said it. Oh. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no! She said it! She said it out loud! You mad crazy woman, you actually said it out loud. Walpurga’s cheeks became hot as she turned redder than she ever had before. The air around suddenly felt sticky and uncomfortable. She didn’t want to breath but she had exhausted herself on her babbling ramble. She inhaled and coughed as all the air came at her at once. What had she done!?

She stood up from the table. Her legs felt wobbly and unsteady beneath her. She was going to fall over at any moment, but she needed to move, to get away from this embarrassing episode. She had no idea where she’d go but she needed to get the galloping stars away from this fiasco. She turned to go and… when did the door get so far away? She scolded in confusion and let out a haggard, breathless squeak. She needed to get out. Her feet seemed utter oblivious to the torment they were causing her. Why wasn’t she moving?

Finally, after was only a moment but felt like an eternity, her feet responded and she bounded out of the inn, completely forgetting that she own the innkeeper for the food and drink.

[corlisswyn]

House of Wycliffe Corlisswyn
Edoras, Riddermark

Corlisswyn rocked slowly in the twilight hour, watching people pass by on their way to the pub or heading home after a long day's work. A few called a greeting to her; she returned it with a short wave, but never leaving the rocking chair to engage further. Sitting on the table next to her was her folded green cloak of the Cavalry. A decision was before her, one that she's put off for days under the guise of settling Wycliffe's affairs and making his house her own. She already knew she's be welcomed back if she re-joined - she had sent along an notice to the Marshals to change her residence back to Edoras as she was still technically on leave of absence. The Marshals had responded positively, welcoming her to a refresher training and to re-take the oath. But gone from her was her youth, her idealism, her heart. That had all changed when she met Gleddon, and as a fiesty woman, Corlisswyn had never realized the peace of a simple life until she found him.

That peace was now gone, and would never return. Corlisswyn knew she needed purpose in her life, but what would she do? No one depended on her. She and Gleddon wanted to wait, enjoy each other first before kids came along. She had no creative skill so to speak - she'd never make money off her sewing and cooking. Wycliffe, in his age and Cavalry service disability, still worked at the Campian and handled its maintenance. Corlisswyn didn't think she could be a part of the Cavalry life at the Campian without being in the Cavalry. But she also felt old and unsure that she could handle the active life as a sperewigend. She was in shape for maintaining a home, but if she took up the cloak, she would have to train hard. Did she have the willpower? Could she muster up the idealism needed to fight, put herself back in the mindset of a warrior?
The decision could wait no longer. The cloak did call to her, the sense of brotherhood and belonging the Cavalry offered she yearned for. Perhaps a spear in her hand and the grasp of reins might bring a wave of vigor to her. She had two opposing plans for the morning: one was to present herself for service in the Dragon Room and rejoin the Cavalry; the other to turn in her green cloak. One more night to make a decision.

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Snowbourn River, East of the Great West Road: NPC ~ Symond Beorma

The fisherman's shabby tent succumbed to the deluge just before dawn, Symond, its occupant, counted this as good fortune rather than ill. The sudden soaking of body and blanket brought with it wakefulness and the realisation that the gentle murmur of the Snowbourn had become a strident roar. He was not in any immediate danger, but the placid shallows where he’d set his nets and cane traps were now roiling pools of noise and white water.

He salvaged what he could - the creels, traps and folded nets that would have been deployed at sunrise - and dragged them with difficulty through clinging mud to the high water mark above the reed banks. He dropped into an uneasy sleep below a large alder, waking an hour later to find that the river had breached its banks.

His salvaged fishing gear was gone and scummy water lapped around the roots of his place of sanctuary. Above the bellow of the swollen river he heard a distant, plaintive sound, the screech of a wildcat or, mayhap, a child puling? There was no settlement that he knew of across the river. It had to be a cat, then - no-one in their right mind would be out in this weather, least of all with a babbie in tow.

The fisherman scanned the near shore, eyes slit in the face of a keen wind from the north. He caught sight of something unusual, a scarp of bright blue fluttering in the thin grey light, but a fresh squall of rain drove hard into his face and the dense woodland that lined the river was lost to view.

He made his way downver, soaked and shivering, heading for the shelter of the hut he shared with his nephew. It was too much to hope that Bran, his sister’s whelp, was up, or that he’d made a fire or prepared breakfast. Nay, a better wish would be that fish fell from the sky, or that Wynfreda’s strange boy had never drawn breath.

--
@Eléowyn

[Lail]

Lailyn’s house with Æric
It seemed to her he was less relaxed today and she wondered if something had happened but she didn’t want to pry. Of course, it never crossed her mind she might have been part of the reason. All she’d done was welcome him. At least he didn’t outright refuse her offer for food though he didn't take any yet. If he was going to be working in her house, she wanted him to feel comfortable doing so. When he smiled, his face brightened and whatever troubled him seemed to fade away. She found herself returning the expression with ease.

“I appreciate your hard work, but don’t feel like you need to rush for my sake. I mean it will be nice to have a kitchen again but even with the damage it’s still the best house I’ve ever had...” She trailed off and surveyed the house. Her eyes lingered on the tapestry for a fleeting moment; this house could never compare to the one she grew up in. But it was the family, not the structure that gave it life. The memories were old enough now that she continued to speak without faltering. “Not that I ever had my own house before...but considering how new it all is to me, I think it’s coming along nicely.”

As he set to work, she noticed how intent and focused he was about it. Part of her could have kept watching him but even she knew that was certainly not something you did. So she picked up her book from the chair and drained the last of her tea. She ought to get to work, too, taking advantage of the morning but it felt strange to have someone in her house who she barely knew. Not that she minded, it just felt rude to go about her day as if he wasn't there.

“You seem to be very good at what you do,” she told him truthfully. “I’ll be sure to send my friends along to your shop if they need anything. How long have you been a carpenter?”

[Winddancer]

Æric at Lailyn's house

Her mention of this being her first house made him tense, his thoughts going back five or so years ago when he had stood in front of his first house that he had built all by himself, his arm around his heavily pregnant wife. He remembered that odd look on her face, the one that she had told him was nothing, the one that he could not stop thinking of now that he knew what was to come. With a slight shake of his head he willed his wife out of his mind, his face hard and determined and luckily facing away from Lailyn so she couldn't see the angry shine in his eyes, though the crowbar came down a little heavier than what was intended as he let out some of the pent up frustration.

"What was that? Oh, how long? Uh.. I guess since I was a kid, my father and his father were carpenters, it is all I have ever known.."

As he responded his voice was hard and tense, though the more he spoke the less strained it became until he finally relaxed. "I guess I have always loved creating things with my own hands, building stuff that could be used... or lived in." He was unable to keep the sadness from his voice at the last words, coughing in an attempt to mask it.

"Anyway," he continued, coughing again to get rid of the strain in his voice. "In my family you learn what your father knows and that was carpentry and lucky for me it was something I enjoyed." Half looking up at Lailyn as he pried another floorboard loose, he offered her a smile before returning to yank it free with a crunching snap. Given how he did not want to be asked why he had come to Edoras, still not knowing how to explain to strangers what his wife had done. It was none of his business why Lailyn had moved here, on her own without a family and he had no way of knowing if it was a tragic story like his, only that he did not want to put her on the spot by asking her.

"So howcome you keep bees? I mean honey is nice and all, but why so much of it?" He looked up for a brief moment with curiosity, before his crowbar got slammed back down into another rotten board.

[Lail]

Lailyn’s house with Æric
Though she noticed the tension in his voice and it pulled at her instinct to comfort others, she wouldn’t press him. Not everyone was forthcoming but she was always willing to listen. It seemed like she hadn’t met a single person untouched by some loss and pain in their past and that was part of the reason she wanted to do all this.

“You must have learned a lot from them, but it’s nice that you enjoy it,” she commented. There was something nice about the idea of passing down a trade through a family.

A small laugh bubbled forth when he asked about all the honey. She supposed it was a bit of an unusual occupation. “Well...I sort of stumbled into by accident but I quite like it. I didn’t know what to do when I left the Cavalry…” That was an understatement. Her fingers traced the spine of the book nervously and she cleared her throat before continuing. “But I stayed with my aunt a few years ago and I helped her with her hives...I guess that’s when it caught on.”

“But why so much?” she asked, wondering if he was even interested or just asking to be polite. “I’m supplying the Cavalry and Infirmary healers with it and I’m also hoping to make mead….” She trailed off suddenly feeling self-conscious. She hadn’t told many people about her longer-term plans yet and she was still unsure if it was all going to work out, if she could even make good mead and if anyone would want to drink it. “So...I’ll need a lot for that.”

“Of course it’s not as useful as building houses, but it’s nice to know I’m making something people will enjoy…” Instead of fighting battles or ruining marriages, two things she never wanted to do again. “I think we all need at least a little something to make us happy...Don’t you think?” She shrugged a shoulder and gave him a sheepish smile wondering if she sounded foolish and naive. It wouldn’t be the first time someone thought it of her.

[Eléowyn]

Just across the Snowbourn, near Edoras
NPC Leoflida, aged 2

At first, Leoflida thought chasing the elusive crow was like a game. The bird would light briefly on a nearby branch, Lida would squeal with delight and run toward it, and the crow would fly to the next branch. But she was not accustomed to being thwarted, and soon tired of the game. At home, her brothers and sisters usually gave in to her demands. She had found that if she ran to Mam and hid in her skirts, crying and pointing to one or the other of her siblings, Mam would usually assume the bairn in question had done something bad and would give them a sound swat on the bottom. They had long learned it was easier just to give her what she wanted.

She was definitely not getting what she wanted right now. The bird would not be caught, and Lida was suddenly very hungry. She screwed up her face to indicate she was about to break into a full-out squawl, which usually got her what she wanted before she had to actually start crying. But she realized there was no one else with her. She was alone. In a place she did not know. And very hungry. The wailing began in earnest and echoed through the dense wood.

The near side of the Snowbourn, just east of Edoras
NPA Léohere, aged 8 months

Léohere did not know the word outrage, but it was certainly what he was feeling at the moment. He had been trussed up and left behind by Almod, and he could not even kick his legs or flail his arms to show his displeasure.

His hunger was all consuming, he did not understand where he was, or why Mam was not there to comfort him. He was helpless, save for one thing, a thing he did very well. He opened his mouth and began crying, loud, piercing screams.

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Winddancer]

Æric at Lailyn's house

Her small laugh made him pause, his eyes flicking up to catch the look on her face before he quickly looked back down at the stubborn floorboard. It was amazing the amount of emotions a genuine laughter could conjure up, though it left him feeling confused and thoughtful. Truth be told, he had not heard a woman laugh in.. years. Sighing he pushed the thoughts of his wife out of his mind yet again, as if he thought about it, it would be more than years since he had heard her laughter. Focusing even more, he finally popped the stubborn floorboard out, leaning back to stretch out for a second.

He hoped that the surprise did not show on his face, even though he felt it when she mentioned that she had been in the Cavalry. He knew Edoras was far more progressive than the rural villages, but females in the Cavalry? How would that even work? Did they forgo having a family and children? Was that maybe why Lailyn had none? Though maybe she did and lost them..

Again his eyes flicked to her, a twinge squeezing his heart in sympathy. Had anyone asked him if he wanted a wife and children seven years ago, he would have likely said no. Where most his age would run around courting women, he usually kept to himself, working or minding the farm or drawing up new plans for projects that he wanted to build. But then he met Kara and his world got turned upside down, for better and for worse. He couldn't say that he regretted it now, as he would never want to be without Edda, she was the love of his life. But if he could change what happened after she was born, he would. But then there is no changing people, is there?

“I think we all need at least a little something to make us happy...Don’t you think?”

He paused for a while, staring down at the rotten floorboard, before he slowly nodded his head. "Most definitely. It makes life worth living." Turning his head towards her, he returned her smile, for some reason relieved that she had something that made her happy. Everyone deserved a bit of happiness. Realising he had been looking just a little too long, he cleared his throat. "So, why does the infirmary need the honey? Is it for the porridge?"

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

North of the Snowbourn: NPC ~ Bran Wænnfót

The boy who stepped from the shadow of the trees was broad-shouldered and slim hipped; his hair, dark and long, framed a ruddy cheeked, handsome face. He studied the wailing child (Leoflida) intently before moving toward her with long, loping strides.

The charms, strung on a cord around his left wrist, clattered and chimed as he knelt before the girl and favoured her with a broad smile.

“Hullo, little one,” Bran said. “What's your name? Are you lost? You are, aren't you. Out in the rain in nought but a night dress; all alone in a forest by the river and hungry!”

The child’s eyes were locked on his left wrist. Bran flexed his fingers and the insect husks and rodent skulls strung on the amulet rang dully in the gloom.

“You like that do you? They’re part of my collection, the things I find and preserve. Uncle doesn't like it – my hobby, do you kennit - so I keep them safe, the things I gather, here in the darkling woods.”

The girl made no reply. Bran eyes, dark and inquisitive, looked her up and down. His keen gaze settled on her bare right foot for a long, long moment. His eyes flashed as he looked up at the girl again, and his fulsome lips quivered slightly.

“Come on, little one, come along with me. Let Bran get you out of the cold and wet. Our hut is just over yonder, it’s not much but it’s warm and dry and there’s food for those with a hungry belly. It's not far, up the path and then on a mile up hill. You can tell me your name and story while we walk...”


Southern bank of the Snowbourn: NPC ~ A furtive Dunlending

A squat figure retreated from the hilltop, near the ford of the Snowbourn, under cover of the driving rain. The flames that lit the sky and fields around the Forgoils’ big-house-town had thrown the Wildman’s desperate plan array.

He'd travelled from his clan's camp over the Adorn River, moving stealthily across the grasslands of the West Emnet driven by great need. The son of his chieftain was sick and dying, the spells and dances spun by the Wild-clan had not cured him. The Strawheads had special medicine, muti that might save the ailing child from certain death.

But now the threat of death hung too over the Dunlending. A Wildman did not simply walk into Meduseld, not unless he did so under the protection of one of the tall Riders. If the Strawheads found him they would think he’d made the big fires; they would kill him with cruel steel, without question or mercy.

The Wildman moved east, two miles upriver of the City; far enough to avoid the Forgoil patrols and their keen eyes, close enough still to see the Ford. If the man he sought came to or left the big-house-town he would see him!

A sound reached him as he crouched in the rain, a sound that echoed the desperate wailing of his chieftains’s son. The Dunlending sprang afoot and hurried along the bank towards a large willow. There, tucked safely between the roots of the tree, lay a bawling babe (Léohere).

The Wildman knelt beside the squalling child, stroked its blonde head with surprising tenderness, and placed a thumb into its mouth. The baby’s gums battened down on the digit, sucking greedily, as its rescuer strove to free the skin at his waist.

The Dunman uncorked the flagon one-handed, removed his thumb and placed the neck of the canteen between the child’s lips. Pale blue eyes looked up at him as the babe guzzled at the contents of the skin; goat’s milk, fermented and rich, the drink that made Wildmen strong and bright like the moon.

The Dunlending waited until the child had drunk its fill, waited until its eyelids fluttered and dropped closed. He removed the wet, rough cloth that swaddled the babe and dug out a dry blanket from his pack. He slipped the flagon from the babe’s lips, and made to wrap the bairn snuggly before it began shrieking anew.

"Hawu!" His eyes widened as he turned the child belly down. A sign of magic and power marked the flesh below the babe’s right shoulder; a sigil he had seen once before as he daubed boar fat and woad onto a pale back beneath a summer sky.

He wrapped the child quickly, and tucked him into the pack slung across his chest, All things under the sun were in balance, all things under the moon served the beams and guardians. Here was a chance to save his chief's son, and the child of the man he sought.

The Wildman strode towards the ford of the Snowbourn. The Strawheads might yet strike him down, pierce him with bitter spears as he crossed the green fields below their town. He might die, far from home and alone, but Bambu, of the clan of Kalumba, was willing to trade his life for the lives of his clan's heir, and the son of the man he called cousin-brother.

--
@Eléowyn

[Taethowen]

Sighard
Eastmark Dryhtguma


Just outside of Edoras, along the Great West Road

It had been quite some time since Sighard last traveled to Edoras. He preferred to stay holed away in the Aldburg, where he had a limited interaction with strangers. He liked routine and familiarity, but he'd drawn the short straw this time for who would make the trip to Edoras to find out any new goings-on in the Mark.

He'd hoped to miss the end of the Summer Festival, but he'd met far less travelers on the road than he'd anticipated. What concerned him, though, was the orange blaze he'd seen well after sundown, whenever he looked west toward Edoras the night before. The smell of smoke had been carried on the wind, and he knew if the smell of it had carried this far, it had not been a small fire.

Sighard had been tempted to re-saddle his horse and push through the night to find out what was going on, but he wasn't familiar enough with the roads in this direction to risk traveling in the dark and injuring the horse.

So he'd waited till dawn--and through a rainstorm--to set out.

Now, as he reached the outskirts of Edoras, things seemed... odd. He could have sworn he'd heard the squalling of an infant over the sound of the river, and so he'd diverted from his route. The sound had vanished, but he'd kept pressing on. In the distance, he thought he might have glimpsed a figure crossing the plain on the far side Snowbourne, but there was a thick mist lying over the fields after the sudden shower the night before.

Sighard almost turned back to the road, almost turned back into Edoras, but some instinct told him something out here was off. He just couldn't quite pinpoint what, and since he didn't have a set appointment with any of the Marshals, it wouldn't hurt to linger a bit and check things over.

So he let the horse meander along the bank of the Snowbourne, traveling away from Edoras, as the sun began to spread light over the Mark. After several minutes, he began to think that he was just being paranoid, and he began to turn the horse around. Then a sudden chill traveled up his spine.

He didn't need to be a pæth to spot the sodden, crumpled blanket clinging to a branch on the far bank of the Snowbourne, though, and he reined in his horse and dismounted. He looked around, and noticed a nearby tree also had some crumpled cloths beneath it.

Sighard looped the horse's reins over the saddle horn, and went to investigate. What he found was a dirty, discarded cloth diaper--swarming with flies--and a stained and muddied shirt that looked to be for a child.

But there was no sign of children. He did see faint marks in the mud that seemed to be about the size of a man's foot, but the rain had mostly washed them away.

Either way, the diaper and shirt, combined with the blanket on the far river bank, were beginning to tell a horrifying tale.

Sighard took a moment and looked back toward Edoras, and then turned his gaze down river.

"Which way to go?" he muttered.

@Eléowyn

[Moriel]

Who's Your Daddy?
(Private with Frost)

Her agitation did not diminish as she sat; if anything, it increased tenfold. She looked as if she might be sick, and Kamion’s eyes flicked briefly across the room, spotting Bergljót where she was tending to a patron, then quickly back to the young woman who now sat across from him. The words forced their way out of her like bubbling tar, each phrase seeming to swell up in her until it burst reluctantly from her lips. The phrases built on each other in- not precisely a gabble, clearly this girl- Walpurga- knew what she wanted to say, but seemed unable to say it clearly for some reason. Simple nerves? Fear? Difficult to know. He was about to protest that he surely did not have a hundred better things to do and there was no need for her to apologize, when out came the words she had been building to.

“I think you might be my father.”

The air around Kamion seemed to contract, squeezing all sound out of his ears, the cacophony of the busy inn fading away entirely. He knew, intellectually, that there was no way he could be her father; he wasn’t sure he’d ever been to Benton, much less stopped there long enough and engaged in the relations necessary to produce a child. That, he would remember. But such an assertion would be enough to knock any man off his feet, literally or figuratively, and so for a moment he simply stared at her in stunned silence. Most unfortunately, this pause allowed for Walpurga to bolt, rising hastily with a choking cough and taking flight- away from his table, and out the door. Kamion’s own ability to move kicked in an instant later and he flung himself from the booth and shot after her. “Hey!” Bergljót cried as the young woman blazed past her, but Kamion’s hand fell on the innkeeper’s shoulder as he passed her in his turn. “I’ll take care of it! Please keep an eye on my things.” Flustered, Bergljót nodded, fussing with her apron.

Kamion leapt down the inn’s front steps in one stride, hard on Walpurga’s heels. She was fast, he would give her that, but he was faster. “Wait!” he called after her, her hair shining in the light of torches and windows as she ran, and he gained on her with every step. “Wait!” he cried again, and she ducked around one corner, then another. “Walpurga!” At last he had caught her up, and the Dúnadan reached out catch her by the upper arm, spinning her around the face him by the sheer difference in their masses as he slowed and stopped his stride. Immediately this had been achieved, he released her and stepped back, hands upraised, to show he was no threat. She was quite tall for a woman, and he had felt the musculature of her arm beneath his hand, but she was small and slight compared to himself.

“Please, wait! I mean you no harm.” Kamion paused, considering her in the torchlight in whose circle they had halted. “I am not who you think I am. I.. I assure you, I cannot be your father. I’m sorry to disappoint you.” His face creased in a slight smile, quickly overtaken by the concern in his eyes. “And I am sorry to have chased you down like this, but you seemed very… troubled. Are you all right? If you are in some kind of difficulty, I may be able to help you, I have many connections here and outside the city. My name is Kamion, son of Darellon Balakân,” he added, recalling belatedly that he had not actually introduced himself yet.

[Eléowyn]

The Hammerhelm Cottage
NPC Beda

Normally, Beda would have objected to being carried like a babby. In other circumstances, she would have been appalled at the thought of going into someone's house, while they were not home, and taking clothes without their permission. But at the moment, Beda was just relieved to not have to make a decision, to allow Sheemie to carry her where he would.

She murmured a quiet assent and laid her head against Sheemie’s shoulder as he made his way to the gates and through the streets of Edoras until they reached the Hammerhelm cottage. Once inside, she refused Sheemie’s offer of food but was grateful to find a wash basin filled with water. She had done a cursory wash-up at the Infirmary, scrubbing hands thoroughly and wiping the soot from her face, but now she needed a more thorough wash before donning Missy Eléo’s clothes.

It felt like an invasion of privacy, looking around the room shared by Eléo and her husband. She tried to be careful not to touch anything unnecessarily, but despite the day’s tragedy, Beda was fascinated by the room, which was so unlike any in her small cottage. Lying on the top of a chest was a pair of earrings, and a hairbrush with a few golden strands of hair trapped in it. A pair of men’s leather boots, much nicer than what would be worn for riding or working, and a woman’s supple slippers were neatly lined up side by side at the end of the bed. The room smelled of tobacco and leather, and faintly of lavender.

At last she turned her attention to finding something she could wear. There was a dress of deep forest green, made with a fabric so soft and luxurious, Beda could only imagine how it would feel against her skin. But it was clearly made for a special occasion, most likely a Mettare feast, she guessed. At last she found a work dress in a simple brown; it was a bit too long but she discovered if she belted it, it would not drag the ground.

There was a mirror hanging on the wall, and once she was dressed, Beda stopped to look at herself and was started by the reflection she saw. Her eyes looked dark and sunken, her cheeks had no color, and her hair, which she had not taken the time to wash, was dull and streaked with soot. She looked like a haggard washer-woman, not a newly-turned thirteen-year-old girl.

She sucked in her breath, closed her eyes for a moment, then went to find Sheemie. As she should have known he would be, he was standing near the fire, pouring out a mug of tea. On the table was a slab of bread, slathered with butter and jam. She did not bother to object; Sheemie would make a fuss until she ate something so she might as well save time and eat it quickly.

“Thank you, Sheemie,” she said, “I do not know what I would do without you here. But we cannot tarry long. We have to go find the bairns. I cannot rest until I know they are safe.”

North of the Snowbourn
NPC Leoflida

The strange man who knelt before her frightened Lida at first, but he smiled and spoke in a nice tone, and so her sobs turned to soft little hiccups and finally stopped. She did not speak at first, but her eyes darted from his face to the charm-laden cord on his wrist and back again.

The man stood and reached out a hand. “Lida want,” she said, pointing to the bracelet, her hunger temporarily forgotten. She reached out her left hand toward his, whether to put her hand in his or to take the bracelet was unclear, and popped her right thumb firmly into her mouth

Along the southern bank of the Snowbourn
NPC Almod

Almod had only taken a few steps into the water when his foot slipped on a mossy rock. He struggled to stay upright but the rushing water showed no mercy. Down he went, hitting his head on the same rock that had caused his fall. His death was quick and he suffered no pain. The river carried him another quarter of a mile, where a large oak that had been uprooted in the storm lay half in the water. The tree gathered the boy into its branches and cradled him there against the rushing stream.


@Aodh Hammerhelm @Taethowen

[Lail]

Lailyn’s house with Æric
She thought she might unnerve him with her sentimental, idealistic words. If people didn’t think her foolish, sometimes they couldn’t handle such open expression of emotions. She understood, maybe now more than ever, why people guarded themselves but she’d never been very good at it. So it took her by surprise when he said "Most definitely. It makes life worth living."

That was exactly what she meant, but she couldn’t seem to find any words just then. Her heartbeat just a little bit faster under his lingering gaze and she realised then that maybe she felt something more than just physical attraction. But she told herself he couldn't possibly feel whatever she did because he had a wife...didn’t he? Not that that had stopped certain other men.

When he cleared his throat, she blinked and tore her gaze away. The nervous flutter settled when he asked about honey.

"Oh. No. Well they could eat it but it's good for wounds," she explained. "A healer could explain it better than me but it can treat and prevent infection. And that can be the difference between life and death on a campaign…" She paused and frowned, feeling a nervous twist in her stomach that had nothing to do with him this time. "Sorry...you don't want to hear about that and I- I don't really want to think about it. It’s just hard to forget sometimes even though it's been a long time. I think being back here just brings it all back.”

“Have you had much time to explore more of the city yet?” she asked in a brighter tone. "If Edda likes sweets, there's a nice shop in the market if you haven't been there." Surely that would be a safe topic.

[Taethowen]

CW: Description of a dead child.

Sighard
Eastmark Dryhtguma


Following the Snowbourn downriver, outside of Edoras

Sighard had almost decided to turn back, to finish his run to Edoras, when an odd sight a bit further downriver. A large tree had been uprooted, which in itself was not to be unexpected with the sudden downpour that had hit, but there seemed to be something caught in its branches.

He wasn't sure what sort of puzzle was being laid across his path, but it was apparently his doom to assemble it.

"Come, Háwena," Sighard gently called his sable-colored mare with a croon and a short whistle. She stepped up beside him, and he mounted.

With trepidation, he guided the mare to follow the riverbank downstream. It didn't take long before they were in full sight of the downed tree--an oak, it seemed--and Sighard grimaced as he realized that it was a child caught in the tree's limbs.

He made no rush to retrieve the child. Their head bobbed gently in the river's flow, face down, and with the bluish cast to their skin, it was clear they'd been expired for a while. However, this child was far too old to be the owner of the diaper, but it seemed that they were shirtless, and so Sighard surmised that this child was the owner of the dirtied shirt left behind.

One child accounted for, when there should be at least two, which meant he had indeed heard a child's cry earlier.

Sighard twisted in the saddle, looking around the plains and river as far as he could see. But there was nothing, nothing that his eyes could pick out.

Once more, he dismounted Háwena, removed his cloak, boots, and socks and rolled up his pants then waded into the water. It was higher than normal for this time of year, but not overpowering for a nearly-grown lad. Navigating the oak branches hidden beneath the water's surface turned out to be the most difficult part of the task. Once within reach, he grasped the child's arm and pulled them free.

A young boy, it seemed. At least half his own age. Gently, Sighard pulled his limp body into his arms, and carefully traversed the riverbed once again. Once back on the bank, he laid the child down, and retrieved his cloak to cover him.

He would come back to retrieve the child after he'd made certain there were none others--still living--who needed his aid more urgently.

When he'd replaced his socks and boots on his feet, Sighard stood and looked around again, uncertain of where or what clues there might be to find. "It would be nice to be a pæth right now," he muttered.

@Eléowyn

[Winddancer]

Æric at Lailyn's house

His brows were already furrowed as he tried to picture how honey could help heal a wound. Sure he had had his fair share of cuts that needed mending, his face most of all, but then he had never taken the time to investigate what the healers had put in their poultices. Huh. Well you learn something new ever day. Though when he saw Lailyn's obvious discomfort, his brows furrowed even more, wondering what she must have seen to be so upset by it now. He had never been in the Cavalry, but he had fought in the War and he too had seen some horrendous things. Things that would often wake him at night and leave him a shaking crying mess. One hand subconciously moved to his scars on his face, quickly touching them before he once more jabbed the crowbar into a floorboard.

He was definitely not going to be the one to press the topic. Sure he would listen if she ever chose to share, but it was an easy thing to let go of especially as it seemed to be so raw for her still. While he had had over two decades to come to terms with his horrors, it seemed like hers was far more recent. He knew there were still skirmishes with orcs and such and he felt sorry that she had to endure anything remotely like what he had during the War. Especially as she was a woman. It still did not seem right to him that they should be subjected to such horrors, even if it was willingly, but then that could just be his protective nature. Æric mulled on that for a moment as he stared down at the floorboard he had yet to pry out, wondering what else was different here in the big city.

Her question made him look up again, pushing his thoughts to one side for another time and slowly shook his head. "Not really. We have made it past a few of the shops to get some supplies, but otherwise I have been quite busy opening my own shop since we arrived. We only got here like a week ago." Giving her a crooked smile he stabbed the crowbar into the rotten wood before adding "I don't know if I can handle Edda on sweets, the sugar seems to make her way more exitable." Chuckling he popped the wood out with a loud crunch, almost wincing as he imagined Edda squealing even louder and running around even more. Bless that little bundle of energy. "Though I guess that would be a nice treat for her ġebyrddæġ, thats coming up in about a month or so." That reminded him, he had been meaning to ask Caddrick to build a little music box for her. He made a mental note to ask tonight when he picked up Edda.

"Aah! There we go, that was the last one. The others seem to still be alright." Stepping back he looked at her floor, most of it now lying neatly to one side in a pile, leaving a huge hole that covered most of the kitchen, only the support beams showing. "The boards came up a fair bit more easily than what I had expected. Though I don't know if that is necessarily a good thing, it seems they just used a few nails here and there and did not really secure them all that well. I might go over the other boards and hammer in a few more nails to keep them from warping.." Looking around he started mentally taking notes of where he would do it, again seeing her bare feet as his eyes passed where she was. "I uh.." Coughing he cleared his throat before continuing, already having moved his eyes away to the pile of wood he had created.

"I can break these down so that you can use it as firewood, uh.. free of charge of course." He added the last part quickly, before grabbing an armful of the boards and heading towards the door only to realise he could not open it without dropping them all. Cursing himself for his poor planning he gave her an embarassed look and asked "Would you mind getting the door, sorry.. I should have opened it first.."

[Wamba_the_Fool]

((OOC: @Taethowen, mind some company?))

[Taethowen]

(OOC @Wamba_the_Fool For Sighard? Go right ahead!)

[Wamba_the_Fool]

Wamba the Fool with Sighard

The Fool's bells jingled merrily as his sturdy mountain ass plodded steadily alongside the swollen river. The scop's muted muttering was interrupted now and then by his clear voice rising in a known song; the rhyme-wrangling was kept to a lower volume, and either way the ass didn't react.

"And wilt thou I sing a sad song for yer?
Of death, and grief, and sorrow, and murder?
Oh here's a sad song, and it is right morose,
Da dum diddy dum, something rhymed like 'morose'..."

"Eala, Wamba my lad, 'tis far to lovely a day for something like that," the Fool upbraided himself. "Especially when there's company," he continued, as a Rider hove into view.

"Westu Rider hal!" Wamba called out to Sighard as he approached. But his cheerful mien fell as he noticed the small lump on the ground.

"Shouldn't'a been singing a sad song, fool of a Fool," he muttered to himself. "Not ere there's need, in any case."

He reined in his mount and awaited Sighard's reply solemnly.

[Taethowen]

Sighard
Eastmark Dryhtguma


Following the Snowbourn downriver, outside of Edoras

Before he came to a decision, the sound of faint singing reach Sighard's ears. He turned back downriver just in time to see another rider (Wamba) come into view, countenance cheery at first as he called out, "Westu rider hal!" then falling as his gaze dropped to the covered body.

As the man brought his horse up alongside them, Sighard nodded. "Westu hal," he replied. "I am Sighard, Drhytguma of the Eastmark. I was on my way to Edoras from the Aldburg, but was diverted this direction when I thought I heard the sound of a child crying near the river. Alas, I have found no living child, but I have found one that perished in the waters. Have you seen anything strange? I have reason to believe that there is at least one other child out here besides this one." He gestured at the covered child on the ground.

@Wamba_the_Fool

[Wamba_the_Fool]

Wamba the Fool - with Sighard

The Fool decamped his ass, who promptly cropped the grass. And yes I make free, though it is RP - no thread gets a limerick pass!

"Nay, I've seen hide nor hair of child, nor heard any cries," he replied to the query. "Though I was nattering in my beard, as my motley decrees - mayhap I drowned out any other sounds." His eyes drifted over the pitifully small lump under the grounded cloak and winced. "Poor choice of words; the more inexcusable given my profession."

The Fool's gaze snapped to the Dryhtguma.

"What's our course, then? You've my heart'n'hand, 'til child be found, if child there be."

[Wamba_the_Fool]

((OOC: Doggone frigabricabrac.... Keep not mentioning in the initial post, @Taethowen.))

[Eléowyn]

NPC Léohere

The goat’s milk had satisfied the babe’s hunger, and he had quickly drifted off to sleep. But the fermented milk did not settle so easily in his stomach as did Mam’s milk, and he very shortly awoke with a bubbling in his stomach that quickly turned to shooting pains.

He whimpered at first, but as the pains grew so did the crying. He wanted not to hurt, he wanted free of the wrap that held him close to the man who did not smell like anyone he knew, and most of all, he wanted Mam. The cries turned to loud wails that could be heard echoing across the plain.

@Aodh Hammerhelm @Taethowen @Wamba_the_Fool

[Taethowen]

Sighard
Eastmark Dryhtguma


Following the Snowbourn downriver, outside of Edoras

"If you've some skill with tracking, that would be Bema's blessing," Sighard confessed, then pointed back from where he'd come and gestured for the man (Wamba) to follow. Their mounts followed behind. It would have been faster to ride the quarter mile, but Sighard realized that he may have overlooked other clues in his haste to reach the fallen tree, though his untalented eyes didn't see anything on the return trip.

When they reached the tree where he'd found the first clues, though, Sighard halted and pointed the scene out. "There's a shirt and an infant's diaper discarded here," he said. "The boy I found in the river was without a shirt, so I presume it's his. But there's no sign of the infant. I thought I might have seen a figure heading west across the Snowbourn earlier, but the mists made it difficult to tell for certain."

Just then, the plaintive wailing of what could only be a small infant began to sift across the plains.

@Wamba_the_Fool
@Eléowyn (Your post segues perfectly into the one I already had in progress! )

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

North bank of the Snowbourn: NPC ~ Bran Wænnfót

The dark-eyed boy raised his arm and shook his wrist, the gruesome charms tinkled and winked in the gloom.

“You like that do you, Lida?” he smiled, keeping the amulet out of reach of the girl’s chubby fingers. “Of course you do! Why wouldn’t you? It’s beautiful, but it’s my special thing. If you come with me, come home with Bran, I’ll make one for you – your very own for-special!”

Bran reached out, gave the girl’s free hand a light squeeze, and held it gently as he stood. The path through the wood was narrow and winding, a thing of shadow and mystery, yet the child offered no resistance as he stepped forward. Bran whistled happily as they walked, favouring the girl with a broad smile every now and then.

The rain had lifted when they came to the eave of the forest. A green hill stretched out before them, upon its summit a rude hut stood. Bran, noticing the absence of smoke from the crooked chimney, grinned.

Ah, good! Uncle wasn’t home yet. He had time to feed Lida, and tuck her out of sight, before the old sot got in. The child was flagging though, her grip tight in his hand but her little legs faltering. Bran lifted her, placed her on his shoulders, and jogged uphill.

The door of the hut, swollen with damp, squealed as he toed it open. The rank stink of fish and sweat rolled out to greet him. The boy left the door ajar and crossed the squalid room, passing through the curtain that divided his bedchamber from his uncle’s living space.

Lida’s thumb was still in her mouth; her eyes were closed and she snuffled soft snores. Bran placed her onto his cot, covered her with a blanket and stared at her for a long while.

What would onkel Symo' make of her, he wondered. A chance to make some quick cash, most likely - a boon to sate the swine's need for cheap grog.

Bran drew his gaze from the sleeping child. He spread another blanket over her, to hid her from view, before returning to the living room. Here he fired up the small iron stove and began the preparation of a morning meal.

---

Ford of the Snowbourn, near Edoras: NPC ~ Bambu, clansman of Kalumba

The Wildman cast aside caution, he walked the plain without thought of concealment. The big-house-town drew nearer, sunlight bathed rooftops and palisades; small rills of mist curled above the chuckling waters of the ford.

The child at his chest (Léo) began to struggle and kick, its light snores became a sudden shrill wailing. “Tula! Tula, baba!” Bambu crooned, as he stroked the babe’s hair.

Instinct, or a scent on the morning breeze, threw the Dunlending’s gaze back along the river bank. Something flashed in the near distance. Bambu’s nostrils flared and he quickened his pace. Horses! Strawhead Riders! (Sighard & Wamba?) If he could smell them they were not far away.

He climbed the low hill, the knoll where he’d held vigil, knelt beside the tangled hawthorns, and slid his quiver and bow under the jumbled branches. His belt and knife followed. The Wildman stepped to the highest point of the hill, slipped his pack from his chest and cradled the child in his arms.

Bambu thought of home, of his chief’s son and the hunger of the Guardians. Life and death, death and life, all things under the sun must find balance - he was the scale on which the fates of Kabinda and his cousin-brother’s child hung.

The Dunlending turned his stout body downriver, the squawling child held high above his shaggy head, and waited for doom to fall upon him.

--
@Eléowyn @Taethowen @Wamba_the_Fool

[Wamba_the_Fool]

((OOC: @Taethowen I know it's "my turn" to post, but your strapping cavalry steed WILL outrun my shaggy-haired mountain ass -- so if you post next then Wamba can react to what's going on when he subsequently arrives. That good with you?))

[Taethowen]

((OOC @Wamba_the_Fool - it may be a day or two before I can get to that, because I have another intricate post I'm working on for Taeth right now that has to take priority. So I'm fine with that, it just won't be right away.))

[Wamba_the_Fool]

((OOC @Taethowen - No worries. And now I have the mental image of Bambu holding the squalling child high above his shaggy head waiting for doom to fall upon him... FOR TWO DAYS. @Aodh Hammerhelm ))

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

@Wamba_the_Fool @Taethowen
OOC - <Et moi... But also, after posting, the scene from Lion King only registered! >

[Taethowen]

@Aodh Hammerhelm & @Wamba_the_Fool HOPEFULLY it will be later today or early tomorrow when I can get a Sighard post up (it's 10 am for me right now, just for reference) and not two full days. But yeah... I'm finding that Lion King mental image hilarious now.

[Éolath]

w/ Sigrid
Éo grinned at her, nudged Banter towards the house. He dismounted in the yard, looping the reins over the saddle so the horses could graze. He stepped up to Dash’s side, lifting his hands to assist Sigrid. His grin turned sheepish. She was a Rohir, she could dismount on her own, he thought but didn’t say anything. Once she was on her feet, he offered his hand again. He’d learned last night that he liked holding her hand, and hoped she’d permit it again.

The cottage was small but sturdy and cheerful posies grew near the front door and windows. The barn in the back was still a mess, but much off the soot had been washed away and the broken timbers cut up for winter firewood. He planned to rebuild it in the spring; for now it housed a pair of cooing doves and a cranky old orange cat with a stubbed tail. Near the stone wall encircling the yard was a covered springhouse, the excess water bubbling merrily through what had been a large garden.

The memories there were bittersweet. He’d spent hours turning the earth there, planting seeds and weeding. It had been exhausting, backbreaking work, but it had also been time spent with his mother. “Mama kept herbs here, and all sorts of food.” He gestured at the garden plot. “The spring always has sweet water, it’s never gone dry. There is a well in the back near the barn, but we never used it for drinking or for growing our food. Mama said that the spring water made the food taste better.”

Éo led the way into the yard, pointed at a large oak in the back corner. “I was going to build a tower in that tree,” he said, voice amused. “I wanted somewhere where my sisters couldn’t bother me, and I decided that no one wearing skirts could climb a tree. Boy, was I mistaken! Æsa could not only climb the tree, she could catch me and pound on me in a skirt. But I still spent a lot of time up there. That and the barn were my favorite places. My father’s grandfather planted the tree when he married. It’s custom to plant a tree at a wedding in my family, and at the birth of a child. We plant fruit trees for that though, or sometimes a vine or a bramble.”

He blushed slightly, grinned at Sigrid. “I’m chattering on at you again. Hild used to tease that once I started talking, I never stopped. I had trouble speaking, so I didn’t until I was much older than normal. Do you want to go inside? Or see the gardens? The barn burned, we haven’t finished rebuilding it yet. Hild keeps the house clean and stuff, and I think she uses the springhouse to store cheeses and honey but we can poke around.”

[Eléowyn]

((OOC @Taethowen - No worries. And now I have the mental image of Bambu holding the squalling child high above his shaggy head waiting for doom to fall upon him... FOR TWO DAYS. @Aodh Hammerhelm ))

(OOC: if he holds that baby over his head for two days, it’s going to be more than doom falling on him! )

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

OOC: (Dear Bema, Not the dreaded monster!!!)

[Taethowen]

(Private with @Mama's Murder Muffin )

(picks up immediately after the Throne Room)

Taeth's mind was whirling as she walked through the streets of Edoras, from Meduseld to her home, by Frost's side. They'd not said a word to each other since exiting the audience with King Éomer, and he'd not really talked to her at all so far, as the page had interrupted them when she'd asked how he was doing.

Taeth had barely seen a glimmer of a smile as he watched her lecture King Éomer—Dear Bema she had lectured the King and even if she was a Marshal, that was toeing the line.—but that smile had quickly vanished, and his composure had remained somber since then. She'd seen the anger hiding in his eyes as he learned of the former Second Marshal's full actions, and of her escape to Gondor. She didn't blame him.

She'd not seen him at all since that first morning at the infirmary, and while he'd fallen in step beside her almost naturally as they'd left Meduseld, Taeth wasn't quite sure what to make of the tense air between them.

She... remembered going to the infirmary, to check on him. Remembered waking him... and most of what happened between then and her return home a few hours later was a jumbled mish-mash of memories. She had a lingering dread that she'd said or done something to push him away, to make him wary of her, but she wasn't sure what exactly it would have been. The brief letters they'd exchanged had given her no hint, though she'd clung to the words he'd said to her in them.

Perhaps I should try to find an island in the north? Would you be my karîbâri there?

...dear one...

Now that I have found you again, I do not want to lose you.

I am proud of you...

I will miss you while you’re away...

She wished that he would wrap his arm around her, like he had that day during the Summer Festival—Bema's horn, has it truly only been ten days since then? she silently wondered. So much has happened... it feels like nearly an entire season has passed.—but every time she glanced up at him, he seemed lost in thoughts of his own, and his arm was still curled instinctively around his bruised ribs.

Somehow, when they finally stood before her door—and honestly, she was shocked Frost hadn't split off from her on the streets, vanishing like a spectre from her life, with all the chaos that seemed to be dogging their every step—Taeth managed not to drop the key this time, or fumble with the lock. As she stepped through the door, Frost followed, practically on her heels.

She startled when the door slammed shut behind them, when his fingers wrapped around her wrist and spun her around to press her back against the wall. Then his hands cupped her face, and instinctively she pushed up on herself on her toes as he bent down, and then his mouth was on hers for a brief, delicious moment every thought was wiped from her mind except relief. Want. Need.

Taeth tried to push herself up higher, tried to deepen the kiss just a little more, but he was too tall, and reluctantly she pulled away. But as she did so, she caught the briefest pinch of discomfort across his face, a flash of pain in his eyes, and she winced. He was hurt. He was hurt and it was her fault… (She knew, logically, that it wasn’t her fault. The dwarf was the one who’d spewed those words that threw her off guard, and it was the other Campian participants who had targeted Frost despite his honorable actions, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that if he hadn’t felt the need to defend her, he wouldn’t have been hurt at all.)

Wordlessly, she reached for his uninjured hand, leading him across the room to the table. She released his hand, hopped up onto the end of the table, tucked her legs beneath her, and brought herself nearly to eye level with him.

Taeth reached up, her movements almost a replica of that first night, and pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across his forehead. Traced the shape of his eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips. “Are you all right?” she whispered as her hand slipped down the side of his neck. “Are you really all right?”

“Karîbâri, I am fine,” he answered, and she felt his left hand settle on her hip and tug her closer as he nudged her knees apart with his thigh. “I’ve dealt with worse on my own before.”

“You’re not on your own now,” Taeth answered, scooting forward till the edge of the table bit into her shins through her leather trousers—her legs would make her regret this later, she was sure—their bodies almost pressed flush together. She leaned in to steal a kiss, shivering when his hand slipped beneath her tunic and up, beginning to trace patterns up her spine. The touch of his bare skin against hers sent heat spiraling through her, and she pulled away from the kiss with a gasp.

“Promise to tell me if something actually hurts?” Taeth pulled back just far enough to force him to meet her gaze. “Not just soreness, but the type of hurt when something is actually wrong?”

[Winddancer]

With Éolath

She let out a chuckle at his chivalry, allowing him to help her dismount. Silly as it might seem, given she could do it well enough alone, she found that she really liked it. A lot. Sliding easily to the ground with his help, she looked at him as her heart began racing, though he was eager to show her around and headed off towards the cottage. Swallowing hard, she took his hand with a smile, an odd sense of security and comfort washing over her that she had never felt before. But then she had never walked hand in hands with anyone before either.

As much as she looked at what he pointed out to her, she found herself looking at him more, whether it was full on looking when he turned to speak to her directly, or catching him out the corner of her eye as she looked at what he was showing her. It was a gorgeous place, there was no doubt about that. But to be honest, he could have shown her around a desert and she still would have walked around with a smile on her face, just happy to be with him, holding his hand.

While her mind often wandered off, she did actually like hearing about his childhood. Having grown up with just her grandmother and spending most of her time learning how to be a healer, even before the age of six, didnt really allow for being a child that would dream of building tower's in trees. Not that she would change that, she was grateful for the wealth of knowledge her grandmother had shared with her. And in its own way it had led him to her.

At his question about where to go next, she turned slowly looking towards each of the places he named though her eyes returned to the old oak tree. Smiling she nodded in its direction. "I want to see your tree." Grinning she began walking towards it, tugging his hand to bring him along as she then let his hand go and jogged over to the beautiful tree. One of the lower branches was thick and low enough to the ground that she could easily climb it, which she did. Seating herself she looked down at him and chuckled, patting the branch next to her before she looked up into the canpoy of the tree, awed by the beauty of the sun filtering through the leaves as they rustled gently in the breeze.

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Worthy Cottage, Auld Town, Edoras: NPC: Sheemie Rheus

Sheemie had breakfast ready on the table in the kitchen, and some clean clothes too, on the stool by the fireplace. They weren't Missy Eléo's, he hadn't been in her and Will's room. They weren't the Dwarf m'ladys either, Sheemie had been in her room, but straight away he saw that Amethyst's clothes wouldn't fit Beda. They were far too small.

He'd found the clothes in the guest bedroom next to the main bedroom, the Dwarves rooms were on the other side of the passage, near the backdoor and washroom. The clothes looked just right, like they'd been worn by someone young. Sheemie didn't know that who they belonged to; he couldn't read the name on the back of the hairbrush on the windowsill. "Ella" it said.

The door of the big bedroom creaked. Sheemie spun around and gawped.

You look beautiful, Beda... That dress is gonna trip you up! Sheemie wanted to say, but didn't.

His sweoster did look beautiful, even with the smudges of no-sleep under her eyes. Sheemie wanted to hug her tight, and never let her go. She was a woman now, all growed up and pretty. Soon handsome men would be calling on her, soon she'd be married and Sheemie would be all on his own.

What would he do? Where would he go? He'd be just another orphan again...

Quit your puling, maggot! Are you not one of the White?

The voice was in his head, but it was loud and clear and smarted like one of Mrs Sæmple's special slaps. Sheemie felt his cheeks burn with shame. Why was he thinking of his-self? Beda had lost so much: her home and her ma - and maybe all her brothers and sisters too.

Sheemie knew a bit of bad lived in the heart of everyone on Arda, just like Arthur had told him. But that didn't make him feel any better. And he should know better. He WAS one of the White!

"Eat up, sweoster," he said to Beda, "Here's a cup of honey-tea to wash your sammichs down. You're right we shouldn't dawdle… You finish up brêkfis, and shut the door after you. Sheemie's going down to North Gate. He's gonna make some inquiries and he'll meet you there."

The bulky lad grabbed his gardening hat, popped it on his head, and was out of the front door before Beda could argue.

---
@Eléowyn

[Taethowen]

Sighard
Eastmark Dryhtguma


Following the Snowbourn downriver, outside of Edoras

Sighard twisted in the direction of the cries, and whistled for Háwena. The mare trotted to his side.

"You can stay here and look around for anything I might have missed," Sighard said to Wamba as he mounted, "Or follow me as quick as you can."

Then he turned Háwena back toward Edoras, towards the Fords (he thought there were fords along the Snowbourn, at least. He wasn't as familiar with this part of Rohan as he was the Folde and the further portions of the Eastfold.) and urged the mare into a gallop. Wherever this child might be, those were cries of distress.

The plains passed swiftly beneath Háwena's hooves. The figure of a man (Bambu) appeared on a hill--dark-headed and dressed in strange clothing--and raised something above his head. Sighard reined the mare in, and making sure to keep several paces away from the man, but was now close enough to see that the bundle raised overhead was the squalling infant. He appeared to be a Dunlending, and while that in and of itself didn't mean the man had nefarious intentions, his actions were odd, and Sighard didn't want to antagonize him. For now, he refrained from reaching for his sword.

"What do you know of a drowned boy in the river?" Sighard asked, unsure at all if the man would even understand his words. "What is your business with that infant?"

@Eléowyn @Aodh Hammerhelm @Wamba_the_Fool

[Lail]

Lailyn’s house with Æric
“Oh, I suppose you’re right,” Lail replied with another laugh, imagining Edda even more energetic than she already was. “But it might be nice for her birthday...you only get one a year, might as well make it special.”

It disheartened her to hear that it might be a bad sign the flooring had come out so easily. “Oh,” she murmured. “Well...if I ever buy another house, I’ll have to ask you to come look at it first to make sure it’s not falling apart too badly,” she joked, though there was a thread of sincerity.

The yard in the back had been a big part of the house’s charm but she could begin to see that she may have made the decision in haste. One day she planned to live at her aunt’s farm and the next day she was buying a house in Edoras. Still, she was glad he knew what he was doing, it was all going to be fixed and then she wouldn’t have to worry about it.

She just managed to hold back a smile at his awkward stance with his arms full of wood but her eyes shone with amusement. “Of course!” she replied and crossed the room to hold open the door for him. “You really don’t need to do that. I can break it down into firewood later if you leave it in a pile outside.” If he insisted, she would probably give in anyway. Clearly she was unable to argue with him since he’d won out on walking her home. So with a smile, she added, “but it’s up to you. I mean, I appreciate the offer.”

“Anyway, I’m sure you don’t want to listen to me talk all day while you work and I should get started myself…” She trailed off as if just realising she wasn’t quite dressed to work yet. Time had rather run away from her while they talked which was not unusual for her especially around someone new. “I’ll be out of your way by the time you’re ready to keep going in here,” she promised.

With that, she retreated inside to her room and closed the door softly. It wasn’t long before she reappeared no longer barefoot but in boots, looking altogether more ready for the day with her hair set in a neat braid. “If you need anything or there’s some problem, I’ll just be out in the garden.” Smoothing the front of her skirt, she made her way to the backyard to get started.