The Horse and Rider - Inn

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

For some reason, Rowena suddenly seemed to go quiet again. She got up to refill her drink, and sat at the bar alone again. It seemed she had clean forgotten that she had stew too. Something was bothering her, but she was too proud to say. Or too stubborn. Or perhaps both. After a few moments longer, she paid her bill, and then ducked her way out of the pub. She walked up to Synne, who of course was actively ignoring the other horses, too proud to bother with them.
'Hey pretty girl. Did you have a nice chat with your friends?'
Synne snorted.
'Right, right. Well, do you want to get back on the road?'
Synne nuzzled Rowena in response, sensing something was up with her rider.
'Oh, you worry too much old girl. I'm fine.'
Again Synne snorted as if to say 'HA! I'll believe that when pigs fly--without help.'
'Are you saying I'm a liar? And here I thought we were friends!' She unhitched Synne, and then mounted up, to travel just a little bit further before stopping for the night.

OOC: Sorry things getting a little hectic in my schedule right now so bowing out of the pub for a bit

[Amadhrill]

Her green eyes looked carefully at Eldrith as she spoke about her reason to enter the cavalry, at least in a non-fighting capasity. She could not hide her surprise, for se many years she had thought that she knew the pubmistress well, they had spent years together in that little Inn of theirs. But that was many years ago, Ama reminded herself, she could not expect things to be the same or people to be the same, after all, she was not the same either. Thoughtfully she nodded to Eldriths words and focused her attention on Eolath as he spoke of his cousin's cousin. She was hardly the only one reacting to the name, barely catching the muttered words of Eldrith. Ama was about to point out that she was hardly surprised to hear that Eldrith wanted to stay near the Inn, take over the responsibility of it, it wasn't the the Inn was ill-kept, but it could be made much better, and Eldrith was the right person for the job, Ama had no doubt. However, the name Firi was out.

«Firi? Well, that is not a relation to be shamed of. I can't say I remember a lot about her, but she was a great warior and made herself a good reputation. I do hope she is well and healthy! Though I am not sure I would verify any of her tales». Ama laughed towards Eolath, those were some shoes to fill, yet the cavalry did not ask for ancestry or family members. She heard the neutral tone of Shivased, and saw the nervousness in Eolaths movements. The words were wise and belonged indeed to that of a marshal, the others here could joke and tease, but even off duty, the marshals of Rohan were never really off duty. «Back in the days, when I rode among the cavalry, we were never judged for anything but our own deeds, for good or bad. Granted, that is ten years or so in the past, but many of us hail from families none have heard of outside our own village, so should you choose, and be accepted» she added hastily, glancing sideways at Rowena and Shivased «I am sure you will be tested for your own worth.»

«I've cooked for a campaign before» Again, Ama turned towards Eldrith «You cooked for a campaign?!» She could see the resolution in Eldriths face, probably mirrored in by the surprise in her own face. As a hælend she could always hide her feelings, but here, in the company of old friends and comrades-in-arm, with an ale at her side and the chitchat around her, she was as easy to read as yellow snow in the winter. She had always known the other woman as a rather silent, reserved person, never doing much to get herself noticed, yet she had always been surrounded by those who called themselves her friend. Well, she had not known Eldrith very well before they had, somehow fund themselves running the Ældsel Inn together. But the other was known and trusted in Edoras, and Ama herself had gone through the ranks in the cavalry, so in a way they both had a stamp of approval from others. Granted, they had never spoken much of the past, but Ama had never thought much of it, the Inn had been busy and demanded much work, and she herself had come from an insignificant village in the Eastfold, it was really not that much to talk about... The surprise of her old friend's word made her only halfway notice that Rowena silently left the pub, looking as if something bothered her.

Then Amadhrill leaned back in her seat, arms crossed across her chest. She tried to wipe the surprise from her face and look stern, but it was only halfways successful in it. Green eyes glittered with curiosity and care. «I don't think we ever talked much about what happened before we suddenly ran the Ældsel Inn, pubmistress» the last word was spoken with a certain emphasize. «Do tell about the campaigns! You've given us only a teaser to this tale, and now I for one would like it continued!» She grinned towards Eldrith.

[Shivased]

Shivased gave a nod when the young man Eolath said he would come to the Dragon Room, then left to return his plate. She had made him nervous, she could tell, but that didn't bother her. If he got nervous talking to a marshal in the pub, who knew what he would be like when confronted with a horde of orcs on the battlefield. As much as the marshals hated to admit it, the Orcs were far scarier than they were. He would have to learn to overcome his hesitation. She had been forced to do the same thing, and it had not been fun. Ama assured him he would be judged on his own worth and she nodded. Who you are related to matters not. My own father was a member of the Cavalry, but I have always been judged on who I am, not on his deeds. We judge you on your own deeds and behaviour, not those of others.

Turning back to Eldrith she grimaced at the idea of stewed orc haunches. No thank you. And no vegetables or herbs you think you identified, but really aren't sure and stuck them in the stew because they are green and you think the meal needs some vegetables. That campaign hadn't been fun. At Eldrith's assurance she knew what to send for a campaign she nodded and smiled. That's good. Because we have had some cooks who certainly haven't. It is hard sometimes to explain that hard bread is good, apples and root vegetables are good. Berries and roasted chickens are not good.

She fell quiet then, allowing the conversation to flow around her, and noticed Rowena quietly get up and head out the door. The Bealdorhaelend had business at home, she knew that, and wouldn't have been able to linger long at the pub. She briefly thought of paying for a room and heading upstairs to find her bed, but discarded that idea for a little while longer. Instead she sipped her ale, savouring this tankard as she wouldn't have another when it was gone, and let the conversation flow around her, enjoying the warm fire and company of old friends.

[Eldrith]

*She glanced after Rowenna thoughtfully, then nearly choked on her ale as she heard Amadhrill's question. It took a good few minutes for her to clear the bubbly obstruction and be somewhere near to normal. She'd been complacent. She'd talked without thinking. That wasn't something she used to do. And she could only think of one reason. She felt safe. Over a decade in the Riddermark, ensconced in the love of patrons at the inn, the Freablod estate, even if it had been empty for years, it still offered her a home, a home that no one was trying to take away. Never the less she waved the question away.
It was years and years ago. We all take care of everyone whatever way we can, right? *She said with a quick smile. There were things she preferred not to talk about. Disgrace, suspicion, Minas Tirith and Marthen Norse were high on top of that list.* But I can tell you the story of the day the goat got out and ate half of my cabbages and the consequences of that..

At Shivased's remark though, she nodded in agreement. There were some very, very delicious foods you simply did not take with you when on campaign, either they were not practical to eat, or simply not hardy enough for the journey. * Don't worry about that, I can promise you. Any meat that will be given will be properly dried or salted.

[Bereth]

It wasn’t mere curiosity that beckoned her to the newest pub. Though there was that. Reigning in the still-yet-unnamed gelding, of questionable lineage, she winced at another reminder of the indecisiveness that had dogged her like her shadow for far too long now. Patting the warm, velvety neck, she muttered another promise of “soon, boy”, and slung the faded leather bag across her habitually squared shoulders. Pausing, as was another habit she’d gleaned along her travels, she whispered a soundless oath before drawing a deep breath and pushing past the door.

“Ale, if you will, two fingers below the edge, so the head shan’t overtop the rim,” she quietly requested, wincing at the memory of a chastening so long ago that ensured she never wasted another drop, if it were in her power. Although it often was not.

Moving to a seat that permitted none behind her, she finally allowed herself to flex her ride-sore muscles as she leaned back against the wall, stretched and crossed booted ankles with an almost careless luxuriance. There was no arrogance in her movements, no assumption. Home. It had once been. It still was, if she would ...

She poked a toe gently at the bag beside her feet to quiet the soft scrabbling sounds within that only she could hear. At that, she lifted her eyes to discretely scan the small crowd, not really expecting to find any familiar face. Not after all this time. Save possibly one.

One she owed dearly.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Allacan had shed herself of her heavy leather armour and instead donned a simple, homespun green tunic and belt, a heavy belt-pouch and a simple short-sword hanging at her side. The latter weighed oddly - not the familiar blade she had carried all those years ago. So strange now to think of those days; it felt like a different life-time altogether. Looking back now, she felt herself at peace with what little wisdom she had gained through the years, and more accepting of her shortcomings.

Finally she is returned to Edoras, to reconnect with old friends after far too long, and while the Dragon Room and the cavalry might be where her heart lies, even she knows that here in the inn is where the true life of the Mark could be found. She did not recognise the name of this pub, pondering that perhaps the Ældsel had finally succumbed to being burned down for the Nth time, and wondering what had become of the tavern-keeper Eldrith. Hesitating a moment at the door, a stupidly wide grin erupting on her face at the sounds of joviality and festivity within, she crossed the threshold with eagerness to discover who was waiting beyond.

The room was warm with company and light, and as she scanned many of the familiar faces her grin made a desperate attempt to widen, although it found itself sadly constrained by the limits of her face, for if it were to truly reflect her joy it would have grown wings and flown free of her altogether in much the manner her heart was attempting. For a moment she found herself torn as to which table to approach first, wishing simply that she could draw all these wonderful friends into one massive hug. Then her eyes fall on one of her dearest and closest friends of all, Shivased, and she hesitates no more but strides with purpose over to her table, noting the woman is nursing a drink.

"Really, freond, an ale on as day as momentous as today?! Surely I am worth a Marshal's Malt-Whisky at the least?! Drink that down and let's get to celebrating already." she says with a merry, mischievous glance around at the other patrons, warm grins for her comrades and companions. "A round of Marshal's Malt for everyone, on me" she declares loudly, unbuttoning her coin purse from her belt and hefting it like a challenge.

[Eldrith]

*Having cleared her throat and waved away the question, she exhaled somewhat more easy. The past was no threat. It simply was the past. And she would not allow it to stop her from doing this. And this... was more than just the inn now, though she had.. ideas about that. This.. was also the cavalry. She'd made the decision and while there wouldn't be a sword in her hand, there would be warm blankets wrapped in leather rolls, and well packed food, different for shorter rides out and for longer campaigns. And perhaps she could teach. Teach the man how to make the quick breads she'd offered on that long ago campaign where not much more would be needed besides flour and oil and whatever fresh water could be found. Yes. Yes, she could do that. A chuckle rose and clattered out easily as she finished the last of her ale and actually considered another one. She did not drink much but a good evening, with friends when it seems fate had called so many back here, in the heart of her life, aye, this was a good time for ale, was it not? The mule she rode was not a temperamental beast and if she ate something later on she'd have no trouble anyhow.

Looking around she allowed contentment and confidence wash over her until her eyes fell on one.. particular.. face. (Bereth) And Eldrith froze. There was no other word for it. She was standing amidst Shivased and Gwai and Amadhrill and all of a sudden all conversation drained from her. It seemed as if even breathing had halted.

Somewhere in the distance she heard a voice. A voice that was familiar also. Allacan's request for Marshal's Malt was loud and she could hear the cheers erupt from riders present. But she did not react. She simply.. stared. She'd thought the woman she saw was dead. Must have been.. dead.

[Bereth]

Ber didn’t remember consciously unfolding her long legs, or standing, or beginning to cross the half-filled noisy room after catching the eyes that seems riveted towards her. The forked creases that faintly framed her eyes kept folding into hesitant smile, as if unfamiliar with the effort. Unsure. It had been so long, but there was no mistaking the woman. Ber had thought of this moment for days and moons beyond measure. Of trying to explain. To apologize. To thank her.

But would she be open to such? Would anger close her to Ber’s attempts? Would she be politely icy, set her face as stone, turn away at her approach? Hear her out and possibly even .... slap her?! She deserved all of it, though doubted the faithful cook would allow herself the luxury, even if it were within her.

But Ber couldn’t read her face. She looked to be in shock. Unreadable.

She scrunched her right eye closed and scratched above it, and then slowly stammered out, “Dear, dear Eldrith, I ... so very doggedly, ruefully, deeply regretfully .... should have sent word.”

And then held her breath.

[Shivased]

Shivased was content to sit and listen to the conversation flow around her as she nursed her drink, relaxing into the warmth of the fire nearby and contemplating heading to bed. It had been a long day of travel, even longer weeks of dealing with family affairs and being stuck in the stuffy, strict society of Gondor. It felt immensely good to be back in Rohan, in a pub, where she could relax.

The door opening brought her partially out of her musings, enough to take another drink of her tankard. It wasn't until she heard a voice, one long silent but one she would recognize anywhere, mock her for drinking ale and telling her that she should be drinking Marshal's Malt Whiskey instead. Her eyes snapped upward and widened in delight at the sight of one of her oldest and dearest friends standing in front of her. Alla! she squealed, leaping up and rushing to give the woman a hug. She spared a second to think that, for someone who wasn't big on physical affection, she had been hugging a lot this evening.

Malt Whiskey would be good right about now, perfect for the occasion! she exclaimed as she pulled back. The barkeep was already doling out portions of the strong spirit. She took one and held it up. To your return! And to the return of all old friends tonight!

Downing the drink she coughed slightly at the strong burn, having gotten used to smoother Gondorian wines of late. Come, sit with us! she urged Alla as she re-took her seat. It is good to see you!

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Eldrith react to something, staring at a woman across the pub (Bereth). She turned her head a bit better to watch, ever on alert for she didn't recognize the woman. It wasn't long before the woman came across the pub and spoke to Eldrith, apologizing for not writing. Long lost family, perhaps? she wasn't sure what, but it looked to be a reunion of sorts.

And speaking of reunion, she had her own happening. She turned her full attention back to Alla and grinned, accepting another Malt Whiskey from the barkeep and taking a sip of it. So, what have you been up to since we last saw each other?

[Éolath]

Éolath settled in comfortably as a few companions spoke of his cousin. It was enough to confirm to him her stories, and he grinned. He worked through the tankard of ale as talk turned to old campaigns and food stories that made his guts turn over uncomfortably. He’d never known hunger as a boy, but he’d learned to eat what he was given while in Gondor. It was rarely tasty, never enough to be satisfying, but it was always recognizable. Evidently cavalry rations were a bit more unpredictable.

The arrival of two other faces had him shifting slightly. Neither was familiar to him, although the name the marshal called had his attention sharpening. He knew the name Alla from old family stories and wondered if this could be the same person. He didn’t want to interrupt what was clearly a reunion between friends, but he made a mental note to talk to her at some point.

He turned a glance to Ama instead and said quietly. “I did not know there was such a wide variety in food for the cavalry.” It came out straight-faced, though his voice was amused. “But my cousin is well, from all reports. She and her husband have a small farm, she raises horses now that she’s retired. I was told that her leg never healed right enough to return to the Deep, but she’s happy with her retirement.”

[Allacan ob Burzum]

She was better prepared for Shivased's hug this time, and rather than it unbalancing her she was able to return it with equal enthusiasm. Hearing the cheer rise up from the tavern residents at her declaration, Allacan was too caught up helping the bar staff distribute the round of whiskey's and ensuring that everyone's glass was filled that she missed the shocked stare from Eldrith initially, unaware of the woman's discomfort. Instead her smile beamed in an almost ridiculous display of joy as she handed out drinks to the cluster of rider's near the fire, offering enthusiastic greetings to Gwai, Amadhrill, Hasufel and Leal; with tight hug here, a warrior's handshake there, a hearty pat on the shoulder to those who remained seated. She offered a respectfully bow to a person new to her (Euridice) and a grinning nod towards Éolath - she was certain she did not know the latter's face from memory but there was definitely something familiar about him. She even offered a half-respectful, half-joking salute to Eleowyn after overcoming her momentary awed shock at seeing her old commander's face again.

It was only as she last of all placed a glass before Eldrith that she first noticed the ex-pubmistress' discomfort, directed a newcomer approaching the group (Bereth). Before she could ponder it further, Shivased's toast was ringing out across the tavern. She raised her own glass with a hearty "To Friends" and downed it in one, pulling a face as the fiery-whisky burned her throat on the way down. "It may not be served by the best pubmistress in Edoras, but this drink has lost none of its potency in her absence." She said with a friendly nod towards Eldrith, raising an eyebrow queryingly as she wondered if the woman was ok.

She then pulled up a chair and squeezed it into a gap beside Shivased and the others by the fireside, the corner of the room more a hazardous collection of seats that organised tables as more and more of the pub's residents have crowded in. In response to her friends' query, she replied for the group to hear, assuming others might also be curious "Mostly I have been taking time to recover from my ordeal at the hands of Mordor's minions, after they took my body for their own malicious purposes rather than leaving me to die in glory on the field of battle. I have taken the time to heal, re-discovering my lost memories of the past, uncovering my true identity buried beneath the creature they had twisted me into." The light of joy in her eyes seems to dim a little as she recalls those dark years. "I still feel remorse over the actions I took against my fellow Rohir while I was still a slave to their conditioning, their brain-washing, but I have had the time to come to terms with it, and now understand that I was not wholly to blame for my actions, being not in control of myself or in my right mind. I suspect few could have withstood their torture and tormenting, so I do not judge myself less for succumbing, but instead revel that when faced with my old friends I chose instead to turn back towards light and hope. Where I found that courage, I do not know. I am just very grateful to my fellow Rohir for stopping me on my campaign of cruelty before I did any serious harm, before any lives were lost." She takes a deep breath, and the contented smile returns to her face. "I am similarly grateful that I now have opportunity to return to serve my country as my true self, to perhaps put right some of the wrongs I left in my wake when last I was in Edoras."

She glances around at the others gathered there. "Pray tell me, what news has there been in my absence?"

(OOC - had to read the whole thread to figure out who was sitting where; apologies if I missed out any of you in the crowd by the fire-side)

[Amadhrill]

At Shivased words of «vegetables» and «herbs» of dubious origins added into cavalry meals and half shuddered and half laughed from the memories of horrible food being served on campaigns. She took another sip of the ale, letting it flow cold down her throat in a pleasant way, still looking expectedly towards Eldrith, waiting for a tale. The former pubmistress, however, nearly choked on the ale, caughing and spluttering, before she finally managed to speak. It was not the tale that Ama had hoped for, but instead she was offered a tale about a goat eating half of the cabbages.

Ama wanted to pursue the matter, she was curious, and frankly, tired of the old tales told around in the neighbourhood. She wanted new tales! The talk, however, turned to food again, and the promise of good and hardy food for travels. In the corner of her eye she noticed that the door opened again, and a woman heading straight for the bar, setting herself at some distance against the wall. There was something familiar with the woman, but before she could try to find out the name it was as if a tornado entered the room.

Alla came into their midst, her grin nearly going round the face and immidiately Amadhrills attention was gone from Eldrith. She stood up and happily offered her hand to Alla. «I am glad to see you too have found your way over here, Allacan!» As the Marshal's Malt was handed around she took it and raised her glass. «Thank you, freond min!»

She joined in on Shivased words. «To old friends!» she joined in, taking it down in one gulp, she had never particularly enjoyed strong spirits and she didn't bother hiding the grimace in her face. Quickly she chased it down with a gulp of ale. Returning to her seat she noticed that the woman had stood up and now spoke to Eldrith. And then the name came to her, Lady Bereth! Both a close friend of Eldrith and former member of the cavalry, the last she was more unsure of, but the first she was certain of. Well, had been sure of, the faces of the two women did not mirror the happy reunions of many others here.

She reverted her eyes, returned them to Eolath and Alla, wanting to give Eldrith and Bereth some privacy. She laughed at Eolaths bemused words on the cavalry rations. «Well, lad, we eat what we get. Most of the time hælends are sort of outcasts, avoided for fear of the infirmary... but it pays to stay close to us.» then she corrected herself «them, I mean, I am not a hælend in the cavalry anymore.» she smiled.

«Well, the hælends, now, they know their herbs and vegetables... that's my word of advice» She winked, feeling the warmth of ale and malt and reunions in her body. She listened to Allas words of her ordeal, once more grateful for her uneventful years. «Only husband, farming, and children on my part, freond. That I am grateful for.» She smiled.

[Eldrith]

*Someone put a glass of the Marshall's Malt in her right, while she was still staring. Her lips formed a name. "Bereth" The woman who'd taken her in on nothing more than an old friendship with her son, wounded in disgrace, hiding. She'd taken her in. She'd given her a home. Bereth had been .. at the heart of Rohan at the time.. and her friendship had meant others.. tolerated the stranger until she'd become a stranger no longer. Until she'd had a home. Here in the Mark. The only reason she WAS here, the only reason she had a home here was because of Bereth. She took a swig from the malt. Then another, Ber's words washing over her.

You live. I though you were dead. I was so sure you were dead...

*There were others around her. She could hear their voices so clearly. Eolath spoke about Firi in retirement, the raising of horses. Contentment. Eldrith was content. She thought she was content, but now.. now with Ber back before her.. she had .. family? She heard Shivased's voice proclaiming another name that was.. a ghost of the past. Alla.. sweet Bema be praised what.. was happening? Had the Valar nudged them all? Had Lorien himself visited their dreams and brought all of them back here? And was it a sign of things to come? Was there an evil to be countered? I..
Welcome.. Alla.. *She managed, her voice sounding far away in her own ears. She was thrilled to see you, so many adventures.. in the pub, everywhere. And now it seemed you too had felt that urge to be here, something that changed all. She meant the greeting and almost the felt like the pubmistress again, underneath the shock, joy was bubbling but at the moment she could not.. look away from Bereth's face. All color had left her own. She felt Ama beside her, take that seat again. Eldrith's left hand reached out swiftly for her shoulder. She needed.. soomething to keep her right there and on her feet. She, who rarely ever drank finished the glass of Marshall's malt after the two.. or three.. ales.. her hand tight as if she needed that support and you had always been there for her.*

I thought you were dead.
*It was the second time she said it. Or was it the third. She hadn't just thought.. she had been.. so sure. For over a decade she'd lived in Aern Freablod, alone. She'd tended the estate as well as one woman could tend to what had once been a jewel of the mark. The color that added were spots in her cheeks now, thinking of the cabbages, and the goats, and the hall that was barely used since she mostly lived in a few of the rooms, so she'd put the weaving loom in there.*

[Bereth]

Ber put a hand to her mouth to stifle the urge to burst into laughter, walking a canyon’s edge between the weight of the moment and her irrepressible tendency to jest at the least appropriate times. The latter won out, despite her best efforts. Tilting her head, eyes brightening,

I hope the proof that it is not so doesn’t disappoint too dearly? Glancing down at her threadbare traveling attire, she hadn’t given much attention to her appearance, and hadn’t had the time to correct it yet. Perhaps that I look as if I’ve been buried for a goodly time doesn’t help the rumor.

Now her smile broadened, mingled with a surprise of tears, as she stepped forward and hungrily gathered the quiet woman in one of her best embraces, awkwardness at the lack of practice and faint memory of how such would probably not be as welcomed by Eldrith as she hoped.

By the stars, Eldrith, I have missed you more than I would admit to any soul. All seems well with the world knowing you are still safe and here and ...

She trailed off, suddenly becoming aware of the Marshal Malt that someone had gingerly urged into her hand, and the rising merriment that surrounded them. Now was not the time for the gifts she brought.

Ah, but I am keeping you from your companions, and others who demand your attentions! Perhaps we can visit a bit in a few days time. I’ve ... yet to head out to ... home.

Home. What had compelled her. What would she find here again. Time enough for that. She lifted the unfamiliar drink to her lips ... and broke into a fit of sputtering cough, speaking to the nearest Rider, Allacan, unaware that the drink was compliments of her. Uff, that has got a grievous bite to it!

[Eldrith]

No.. no.. of course..

*the swift denial finally breaking through her stupor. Of course she was not disappointed. Who was disappointed when life gave one miracles? Yet as Bereth stepped forward to gather her into your arms, one might see that indeed some things had changed, for not only did she step forward but her arms closed around her friend and matriarch, tight and then tighter as if by squeezing you she could finally convince herself that she were indeed... real.*

Oh Bereth.. you have been missed. Please.. stay, at least until I go home as well. *She paused for a moment, almost as if embarrassed.* With the family gone.. I decided to live at the estate. It was the only way to keep it running, somewhat.

*Tending the inn had not brought in enough to hire servants for the estate, clearly, so the choice had been to let Aern Freablod be taken back by nature.. or move in and take care of what she could. And she had, as best as one person COULD take care of an estate that had once been home to one of foremost families in the Mark: prosperous, with farms and stables.* There's a kitchen garden and I keep goats... and a few mules. No horses.. I could not take care of them well enough, but now that you're back.. *there was joy within her voice then.. Now that you were back, there would be TWO.*

Oh, you must meet the new First Marshal!! *She added, all of a sudden jumping from one subject to the next, and indicated Shivased* So much has changed and so much has stayed the same! You remember Amadhrill?? She held the pub with me before.. long ago.. Please stay and if you want.. I will of course vacate the estate but if not.. *your greeting had indeed make her think you might want her to stay, you might want to keep what was left of the family, even if not by blood, and be together The laughter that fell from her lips all of a sudden clattered like water over stone in a fresh brook in spring as she realized something.*

You come at the right time actually. Perhaps you can finally teach me to ride a proper horse. I just.. decided to join the cavalry. And no Allacan.. *she added in the direction of one other newly returned, who might remember her sass from the pub* that is NOT a jest. Though you won't see a sword in my hand you'll have good food if you join up once more...

[Shivased]

Shivased listened as Alla told her what she had been doing the last while. As her old friend talked, she sipped on her glass of whiskey and nodded along, her eyes taking on a bit of a shadow as she remembered everything that had happened when Alla had returned to them. It had all turned out well in the end, but it had not been an easy time, especially for the woman in front of her. We are all glad you remembered who you were and returned to us, she said quietly, then fell silent again, not sure what else to say for fear she would say something wrong.

Asked what news there was, she shrugged. I honestly can't tell you a whole lot. My own husband has...disappeared....she said, frowning. She wished she knew where Artan was, or better yet that he would come back. I have not seen or heard from him save for one short missive in several years now. Otherwise I spent the last few months in Gondor settling my mother's estate. I could tell you all the latest gossip from the upper circles of Minas Tirith, the latest fashion trends and who will marry this year, but very little else besides. She grinned, knowing Alla would appreciate the absurdity of knowing so much about Gondorian noble life and so little about their home in Rohan.

She heard someone say something about meeting the First Marshal and turned to find that Eldrith was sort of introducing her to the lady who had captured the pubmistresses attention. Blinking, it was a minute before she realized who the woman was, for though she had heard of Bereth, she had never actually met her save for one Mettarë many, many years ago. Greetings, Lady Bereth she said politely, nodding in greeting since she couldn't stand up and curtsy as she had an urge to do. Eldrith was babbling (or speaking rapidly, whichever one chose to call it) about an estate and things going on and she suppressed a grin, wickedly enjoying the pubmistress being flustered as she'd never actually seen Eldrith this way before.

[Taethowen]

It had been a very long, but mostly satisfying, day. Taethowen took a deep breath and did her best to shake out the knots in her shoulders before she pushed open the door to the inn by one of the brass handles.

It was quite crowded and noisy inside, at the moment, but she was able to weave her way through the crowd and make her way to the bar with relative ease. She didn't have to wait long to be tended to. "What'll be, miss?"

"I'll have a bowl of whatever stew you've got, some bread and butter with it as well, please," Taeth said. "And also some mead. And I'd like to go ahead and pay for a room for the night."

When the barkeep told her the total, Taeth only cringed slightly as she counted out the coin from her purse. Now that she had re-opened Awesnis, she would have some steady income again soon. And honestly, she wasn't lacking for funds, she just... didn't like to spend money. But she still wasn't quite ready to walk back into her house in Edoras, and deal with the memories there.

Taeth looked around the busy inn as the barkeep took her coin and went to fetch her mead. She was uncertain if her friends would be able to join her tonight. She'd made mention of meeting at the inn, but hadn't been able to confirm it with them.

As she scanned the room for a small, quiet table--was that a dwarf she saw at one table?--Taeth caught sight of a crowd of... many, many familiar faces. Some of them she'd had brief encounters with already, and some, though she knew their faces, she couldn't quite recall their names and how she knew them. But there was one in particular woman she caught sight of that she hadn't been certain she would ever see again.

She almost walked away from the bar without her drink, but the barkeep barked at her. "Oy, miss. Here's your mead. Just find a seat and your food will be out soon."

Taeth turned back around, grabbed her mead with a mumbled thanks, and then cautiously made her way to the busy table, and when a moment popped up where she wasn't quite interrupting, Taeth's voice escaped her in an almost-squeak. "Bereth? Bema's horn, is that truly you?"

[Bereth]

Her jaw went slack, brows rising, eyes alight and dancing with an anticipation she hadn’t nurtured in ever so long. She hadn’t allowed herself much hope that she would find many who remembered her after her inexplicable absence. Yet Eldrith... Ber listened with a mix of amazement, amusement, a soft little shiver of joy ... Eldrith was explaining that she had tended to the estate and kept the crumble of decay from nibbling it to ruins.

But that meant a further implied truth, and she sobered slightly, although wasn’t entirely surprised. Lord Freablod ... there has been no word from him either, then.. Not a question, just confirmation. I would have hazarded a safe wager that he would have ensured the funds for you to continue whatever upkeep. Unless.... No, she blockaded that pathway of thoughts, and brightened again, tisking with a cluck of her tongue at the thought of Eldrith moving off the Aern Freablod. You shall do no such thing, remain in *your* home! As should you be reimbursed for any expenses incurred in your kind labors. Ber chuckled, remembering Remy’s reassurance that his pockets were deep. She only hoped he’d left a fair measure of it behind when he vanished as well.

Exhaling a soft gust of laughter as Eldrith continued in such uncharacteristic verbosity, she patted her forearm fondly and exclaimed with genuine and mushrooming surprise, the two of us can do much of what I fear may need to be done to restore a bit of the former comforts of home *she relished the very word all the more the more often she spoke it* but perhaps we may find need to seek out the energy of a few youths with strong backs, eh?

A wink and a smile, and then Ber turned her gaze upon the reigning First Marshal, her training kicking in as she lifted her fist and crossed her chest in a gesture of respect. Well met, Marshal Shivased. How ...

But before she could form her query, Eldrith was pointing her towards Amadhrill, to which she cast a warm smile and nod of greeting, barely a breath taken before Eldrith rapidly sprang yet further surprise, and recovering, spoke her delighted bewilderment, the Cavalry? Learning to ride? Why Eldrith! The years have changed more than I can have thought!. As the novelty of the idea sank in more fully, it would be a delight to aid you in finding a fitting mount.. Adding very softly, as if indecision still wiggled her will in this, In fact, I believe I find myself in need of one as well. I’d a faint hope there would still be foundation stock remaining. But .... She shrugged. The Freablods were not the only with excellent stock in Rohan. They would take their time, if need be.

She swung her glance towards the newest greeting, and broke into a broad grin, By the grace of the stars that have guided me back, it is!. Patting her upper chest as if to prove as much, releasing a tiny puff of travel dust. Ah, Taethowen, it is joy to see you once again!. Ber’s eye slid down to admire the fine cut of the clothing Tae wore, I trust life has been kindly to you?. Squirming slightly at the contrast in attire between herself and Tae, she tentatively extended her arms to gather her friend into a gentle embrace.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

She was distracted for only a moment by the distant tone of Eldrith's, before being recalled to the others. She gratefully took Amadhrill's hand and squeezed it enthusiastically. "Well met! Despite the change in name, thankfully the path to friends and mead was still well well sign-posted so my old feet would not lose their way, although it was a little muddier than my rose-tinted reminiscence recalled" She said with a laugh, gesturing towards where her muddied boots had seemingly tracked a trail of footprints into the pub. She blushes as one of the staff catching a glimpse of the mess and shifts her muddied feet back under her chair in hopes she won't be caught red-handed (or indeed, muddy-booted) and set to cleaning up the mess. "I am grateful also that the years have given you a chance to spend time with your family; how many mini Amadhrill's are now making mischief in the Mark?" she queried.

Allacan laughed as Bereth broke out into a fit of coughing resultant from the fiery whiskey, and replied to her comment with a wicked grin "It is said to be as sharp a bite as the Marshal it is named for. Good sir, pray refill my companion's glass that she can make another attempt at swallowing rather than inhaling this one" She gestures the bar-staff to refill Bereth's glass along with her own while shooting a wicked grin across at Shivased. She then sighs in recollection as the discussion moves back to its earlier topic "Aaah, campaign food - that is not something I am eager to experience again" and goes to sip her own re-filled glass.

The timing was unlucky, for Eldrith chose that moment to declare that she had 'decided to join the cavalry'. So astounded was Allacan at this somewhat uncharacteristic declaration that she fair missed the end of Eldrith's sentence; it was her turn to mimic Bereth in mistakenly inhaling the whiskey, and all her ability to join in with the conversation or respond to Shivased's update was lost as Allacan reverted to a spluttering, coughing mess, croaking poorly-formed curses at her taste in alcohol as the fiery liquid burnt at her throat in unintended ways, her eyes watering such that she looked to have taken a mouthful of the infamous bilewitdox. She pulled away from the table a moment to compose herself, shaking her hand to dismiss concerned enquiries until she could raspingly call for honey-mead to help ease her uncomfortable throat. "Eldrith... cavalry...?" she managed to croak out, still disbelieving.

[Taethowen]

As Bereth swung around at her greeting, Taeth couldn't help but grin back though she felt the tell-tale prickle of oncoming tears behind her eyes.

"Ah, Taethowen, it is a joy to see you again!" Bereth said, and Taeth quickly found a spot to set her mead down on the nearest empty table, hoping she could remember which table it was by the time she got back to it.

"I trust life has been kindly to you?" Bereth asked, though Tae saw a glimmer of uncertainty cross Bereth's face as she took in Tae's clothing. But still, the woman opened her arms and Taeth gladly let herself be pulled into an embrace. Travel dust was easy to wash out, but the embrace of long-lost friends was priceless.

But as she sank into the older woman's arms, a few of the tears that threatened just a few moments before escaped her. "Life has not been kind," Taeth answered as her own arms tightened around Bereth. "But I am alive, and I am finally home, so perhaps it will be kinder from now on."

With a sigh, aware that they were in a public place and that there were still many more old friends to greet, and perhaps even a few new ones to meet, Taeth pulled away, wiped away her tears, and put a smile on her face again. "I'm opening up my seamstress shop again, so do come by. You were always one of my favorite customers."

Taeth took a moment to retrieve her mead and take a sip, the sweetness of it lightening her thoughts and keeping her grounded in the present rather than the regrets and worries of the past. "What of you, dear Bereth? How are you?"

[Eldrith]

*If there had been coin to maintain the estate, she hadn't known of it. Perhaps it had been buried somewhere, but no, neither Lord Freablod, nor Lady Freablod, nor Braganil had been seen in ages. It was just... her. And now she had her arms wound around her friend and around her people were sputtering in shock as she mentioned joining the cavalry and learning to ride. Well, perhaps more the fact that she was joining the cavalry than learning to ride. For one who'd lived in the Mark for so long, she'd proven remarkably steadfast in her riding a mule rather than a horse. It was closer to the ground, steady and slower.

Hearing Taethowen's voice finally ground through and she took one step back, though she was loath to do so as if Bereth might indeed disappear if she did. But she could not help the laughter from welling up again as she saw Allacan's reaction to her announcement, Ber's bewilderment and Shiva's mild amusement at her own reaction to the new appearances.*

Well hold your horses everyone, I may JOIN the cavalry, but you won't see me riding out to meet an enemy, if there ever appears one. I am planning to cook, help with supplies, do mending. Trust me.. you do not want a sword in my hand! Since I a the one who rehomed the horses, I know which families took them in.. and I am certain they made sure the bloodline was kept well preserverd.. *she offered, to Ber, while passing the honey mead to Allacan as it was brought forth*

Drink it, don't choke on it.. *she advised with at least something of her usual sass.*

[Amadhrill]

Ama felt the hand of Eldrith lightly on her shoulder and she softly patted it, wanting her friend to know she was there if needed. It had been many years, but Ama was not one to throw away an old friendship for that. Eldrith sounded in shock, repeating «I thought you were dead» over and over again. Then it was as if a spell was broken, and she felt the hand leave her shoulder and heard the laughter and saw the hearty reunion.

Eldrith reintroduced her to Bereth, Ama stood up, for a moment she wondered if she should stand up and curtsey, Bereth was one of the noble women of the Mark and belonged to one of the few old families with an actual last name, yet the clothes she wore did not look like they belonged to a lady. So she returned the lady's nod and smiled warmly. «I am glad to see you back in Edoras, Lady Bereth.»

She was not the only one amused by the blabbering of a flustered Eldrith, however as Eldrith suggested that she would vacate the Freablod estate, Ama watched the lady Bereth closely. If the lady wanted Eldrith off, she would be very welcome in her own home, thought it might not be as comfortable as the Freablod estate of course.

Ama laughed at Alla's description about the Ældsel Inn. «Your reminiscence is rose-tinted, but I do believe the Ældsel was cleaner and better kept, but then again, I am probably not a good witness either.» She glanced down at Alla's dirty boots. «Don't let Eldrith see those.» she added in a laughing whisper. «Three little mishief-makers... Ædelwyn, Glædwine, and Heardwine. Ædelwyn is my oldest, she's nearly ten, then it is Glædwine, he's seven, and little Heardwine who just turned 5... A fine little flock.» She laughed merrily, thinking about the children at home.

It seemed as if everyone reacted with the same disbelief at Eldrith joining the cavalry, and she could just laugh at it, having reacted in the same way herself.

[Bereth]

Ber make only a feeble attempt to wave away the second of the generously given whiskey, wanting to ask exactly who on earth would inspire such a wickedly strong drink, but the subtle exchange of looks aimed at Shivased seemed a clue.

“There is a tale for telling in this,” she lifted the glass towards Allacan in a half toast gesture before a delicate sip, exercising a heroic effort to not turn red, “which I wager must be told.” Leveling an unblinking look at the First Marshal, “But I am heartened to think the tradition of strong leadership continues.”

There was in Taethowen’s lingering embrace a telltale parenthesis of sadness. Every living soul in the Mark knew of loss and grief, it was inevitable from birth. The constant raids from many who wished them harm had left a wake of orphans and widows and wounds. It was embroidered into the culture, though there was an unquenchable and vibrant will to carry on, spiced with laughter and mirth. Yet when the often unspoken reality of sorrow bubbled to the surface, as now, Ber always felt an immediate empathy, with an almost maternal yearning to shield her from the pain. But life had to continue. When Taethowen spoke of her seamstress shop, explaining the precise details of her attire, the pieces fell together.

“I should have known it was your expert hands that clothe you. I find myself in dire need. Again,” she admitted with a rueful grin before leaning closer. “I shall seek your able skills very soon! Perhaps if time won’t permit us here, I can steal a bit of your day to hear of the unkindness that seems so unfair to a heart such as your own. A sorrow shared is halved in the bearing.”

One bare sip later, “As for me, I also am alive. And here again, it seems. Though wondered at times if I deserved either.”

She continued to shake her head unconsciously now and then, as one who comes up out of a river swim, trying to clear it from her ears, still unable to fully believe Eldrith’s intent to join the Cavalry.

“You do realize, dear Eldrith, that a sword is hardly larger than the knife you wield so handily in your kitchen? It’s not an impossible leap!” Her voice wasn’t totally teasing, nothing seemed entirely impossible. Though Eldrith as a warrior would be close. She had not doubt that if the need would arise, this humble woman would spare nothing to defend whomever needed defending, although she’d never been tested in such things as yet. And then she reddened in shame,

“Ah yes, of course you would have seen to the Freablod stock. I should have known, and apologize to the heavens for not having done so before we all ... vanished.” She owed her so much. So very much. She thought again of the gifts she had brought, her reason for entering the Inn in the first place. No, still not the time ...

Catching a snatch of Amadhrill’s comments about her children, she was at first taken aback at how much time has elapsed, how it marched on with joy for some while meting disappointment for others. There was a marked softness as she smiled at the thought of brand new tiny Rohirrim to re-populate the future.

[Eldrith]

Two of those who were closest to her were standing next to her. Other friends gathered around and she, who rarely drank, had two, no.. was that three ales and a glass of Marshall's Malt that Allacan had provided. And it was quite possibly she was starting to feel the effects. But the chuckle that came out at Ama's words was close to a giggle.*

I was just thinking that this pub is nice but couldn't hold a candle to the Aeldsel. That is.. it's good. It's really good. This pub. That is. That's what I mean. But I think there was some of the spirit of the Aeldsel that was different. I don't know exactly what...

*She looked into her glass and chuckled again.* I've barely stated that I am joining the cavalry and I am already taking to drink. *Glancing to Shivased quick, though the smile did not stop curving her lips she added* Would not do for a cavalry member to be drunk in public.
*Something about Taeth's barely audible words though sobered her a bit. Life had not been kind. She could relate and yet not. Life HAD been kind to her. She'd survived. She ate well. She had done something that was meaningful and yet.. it had been so lonely. Was it loneliness that had driven her back to seek the company of others? Or was it something else? All of them had felt that.. urge it seemed. To be back. To be here, as if there was a whisper in their very souls..

*When she looked at Bereth though the smile grew again, as she held Taeth, as she looked at her. As she was just.. so much.. Lady Freablod, mama Ber. She was her and Eldrith delighted in the fact that she was here, unaccountably, impossibly.. here.
I know there's not much of a leap between a kitchen knife and a sword.. but it's not a leap I am willing to make. I spoke with the first marshall and she says there would be a place for me even without one. They need people who take care of others too. I can cook food, sweep barracks, mend clothes... And leave the cavalry to their training. The more they tend to that, the safer we all are. And an army marches on it stomach, right? Though in this case.. it rides on it's stomach.. or is that their horses stomach.. *there was another laughter that sounded too quick and too light.* Oh my.. I have.. I think I should probably switch to water..

[Eléowyn]

Eléowyn awoke with a jolt, confused momentarily as to her surroundings. As sound travels strangely through fog, so were the muffled words of what seemed to be a crowd of people nearby. She lifted her head slowly, blinking hard to clear the blurriness.

The Inn! she realized, with just a slight hint of panic. She recalled going in, she recalled a joyful reunion with many friends. But then ... nothing. Ah, wait, she shook her head to clear the cobwebs further. Yes, it was coming back. She had excused herself, headed outside to check on her horse, and then ... nothing again. She knew she had made it back inside, for she now found herself on the floor in a dark corner, one where no one would likely have spotted her. Why she would have passed out, she had no idea, though she knew full well it was not from drink.

Tentatively, and with some effort, she pulled herself to her feet and looked around. She spotted the table where her friends were gathered and noticed even more chairs pulled around. A few steps were all it would take to rejoin the group, and she was halfway there when she stopped suddenly, as if she had hit an invisible wall.

It couldn’t be, she thought, and shook her head once more, thinking surely she was having visions. She closed her eyes, opened them, then did it again. And then she heard the name — Bereth — and she had to grab the edge of a chair to keep from falling again.

How long had it been? How she had missed the dear woman, whose kindness and hospitality had made so many Rohirrim feel at home in Edoras, including Eléo herself.

Eléo stood for a moment, regaining her strength, and wondering what to say.

[Taethowen]

Taeth couldn't hold back the smile as Bereth promised to visit Awesnis. Bereth had been the first noble lady to trust her skills so long ago, and perhaps she would not have continued to refine her skills all these long years without that trust.

Taeth found herself blinking back tears again, though, with Bereth's words that a sorrow shared is halved in the bearing. 'twas true, she knew, and it had been far too long since she'd had someone to halve it with. Bereth took a sip of her drink, then continued, "As for me, I also am alive. And here again, it seems. Though wondered at times if I deserved either."

Sadness for another suffused Taeth for the first time in a long time. She'd spent many years withdrawn from people, but was realizing now how lonely she'd made herself. "Let me halve your sorrow, too, then," Taeth answered. "Whenever we have the chance."

They were interrupted, then, by one of the inn's helpers bringing Taeth her food, and she pulled up a chair from the empty table nearby and quietly settled into a spot at the table where everyone seemed to be congregating. As she waited for the stew to cool to a tolerable temperature, she took a moment to look around the table, and place as many faces in her memory as she could.

Taeth knew she recognized the woman Bereth had been with (Eldrith) when she first came in, but she didn't think it was from her time in the Cavalry, so it must have been... from elsewhere in Meduseld. Shivased she knew from the Riddermarket now and... perhaps the Cavalry in the past as well. There was a younger man (Éolath), young enough that he seemed to be practically a boy, that she didn't think she'd met before at all.

Allacan seemed very familiar, but when Taeth tried to think harder and place her in her memory, her temple began to stab something awful. She hadn't quite finished looking around the table when her stomach growled, though, and she turned her attention to her food.

Just as she raised her spoon to take a bite of stew, though, Taeth saw yet another very familiar face (Eléowyn) from long, long ago, when she had first joined the Cavalry. Eléowyn seemed to be as surprised as she herself was when she noticed Bereth's presence, though, and instead of rising to greet the woman, Taeth finally shoved her spoonful of stew into her mouth.


OOC @ All - Please feel free to interact with Taeth. IC, she has some spotty memory loss because I had to make her forget about a Plaza marriage, lol, because I have no idea if that person will come back to the Plaza. But also, I am LITERALLY terrible with names, and it's been roughly 15 years since I was super-active on the Plaza and my RL memory is not always the best either.

[Eldrith]

*She had been explaining that no, her decision to enlist in the cavalry really didn't mean she had changed her mind on what her task was. She would not be fighting. She would be tending. It was just that.. she would be tending to cavalry members. Just as she had tended to this pub. Speaking of which, she looked around once more, emboldened by three ales and the Marshall's Malt and was.. not that impressed. It was clean. Not perfect, but clean.. but the tables were not arranged the way they should. The fire was smoky and the service slower than it should have been. Of course it seemed that many had found their way back here unexpectedly but... they should have been prepared for that. Should have been able to send someone to call in extra hands like she and Ama had done. Or one of the regulars could be, for once, allowed behind the bar.

As a patron, she would not complain but as an innkeeper.. she saw the problems. What she also saw was Eléowyn having returned and now clutching a chair..and Taethowen standing back there as if she was unsure whether to step forward or not. Bereth had a way of making people feel more at ease and Eldrith added her smile in reassurance as well before lifting her voice.*

Another round, on me this time. Marshall's Malt for those who want it and pressed apple cider for those who prefer something ehm.. lighter.

*Perhaps she realized that she had a bit too much, because she was extremely careful in the way she walked, gently putting an arm under Eleowyn's and smiling. Her voice soft.*

It's like seeing a ghost is it not? I had much the same reaction...

[Bereth]

Ber tilted her head with amusement, so entirely unaccustomed to any memory of Eldrith remotely tipsy, though of course, having spent a great deal of time at the legendary Ældsel, the possibility was always there. One more of those memories that seemed buried beneath a bewildering fog for Ber. It was maddening. She shook her head.
“Ah Eldrith, the Cavalry should have a Freablod counted among their numbers once again. Now that I’ve had a bit of time to absorb your news, my heart is swelling with pride that you’ve made this choice.” There was no hint of jest in her voice, only assurance and encouragement and love, and an ache of pride in her smile. Family. Her family would be in the Cavalry again.

But then, of course, the inevitable question. “Will you be required to complete Training?” A soft guilt-tinged chuckle softened her next words. “I rather doubt I could manage it any longer myself.”

Ber nodded with great affection at Taethowen’s counter offer to help with the burdens Ber carried as well. “I shall come see you very soon, and bring fresh berries to share while we visit, unless you’d rather not risk dripped juices on your merchandise?”

She winked and opened her mouth to speak further, but caught the lurching movements of what seemed yet another inebriated patron. But something about her movements struck a deep familiarity of empathy in Ber. There was always a hesitation, a thought that perhaps her unheralded disappearance so long ago had left friends wounded, hurt. But she swallowed the feeling down and crossed the creaking floor towards Eleowyn, and tentatively settled her hands on her shoulders, looking carefully into her eyes. She smiled gently. “Dear dear friend Eleowyn, you’ve not changed a bit. Marriage must sit well with you!” She had remembered there was a wedding, but her eyes grew sad as she couldn’t recall much after that, and she lowered her voice as much as the noise of other conversations would allow. “I am becoming more convinced there was a spell or an ... an evil cast on us. Some of us? I had thought myself alone. But I wonder ...”.

She released the woman and groaned, waving her hand at Eldrith. “ Two Marshal Malts are two malts too much for me, thank you kindly! She watched Eldrith support Eleowyn’s weight, and her smile grew quietly again at the thought of being a ghost.

In some ways, perhaps she was ... “I believe I still have an ale. Somewhere. I should not neglect.”

[Eléowyn]

Eléowyn gratefully accepted Eldrith's arm, and smiled warmly in return. "Aye, 'tis indeed like encountering a spirit, though a spirit of the most welcome kind! Bema help me, but I had long feared her dead. Though truth be told, perhaps the same could be said about me. I have been away ... too long."

And with those words, there was her old friend, Bereth, gazing into her eyes with all the kindness Eléo recalled of old. Some things would never change, though the world might.

"Yes, I find marriage, to Aodh Hammerhelm at least, to be good for me, though it seems we are parted more than we are together." A trace of a cloud may have crossed her face, but it was so fleeting she doubted any could notice. Impulsively, she drew both Bereth and Eldrith into a brief hug, then just as quickly released them.

She hesitated for a moment, pondering Ber's comment about an evil being cast upon them. "I must confess," she replied, finally, "that I have wondered the same. Not consciously, perhaps, but now that you have spoken it, it seems that has been in my thoughts as well. Perhaps we should rejoin the table and dig into this deeper." She smiled, sheepishly now. "Or, just drown our suspicions with some of that Marshall's Malt."

Having regained her equilibrium, she led the way back to the circle of friends, waving at the newest arrival (Taethowen) as she pulled seated herself, feeling once again the warm glow of this reunion of old friends.

[Amadhrill]

«I quite agree with you, Eldrith! I don't think any pub in the Middle Earth would hold up to our old pub, when the ale flowed between good friends and the excellent food was enjoyed in good company! I have not tasted the supposedly fine food and drinks of elves or Gondorians, and only the tales about halflings have ever come close to me, though I imagine them to be somewhat our equals in the way of food and ale and company. Nor can I say I have traveled much, though I once made it to Gondor, though that was many years ago in my youth in the cavalry...» For a moment it seemed that some long forgotten memory passed over her, her green eyes growing wet, then she quickly blinked. The wetness disapeared and the glitter of merriment returned with a wide grin.

«No, there is no pub like the old Ældsel! But I will bet on your ability to turn this, or any pub, into one that will hold a candle to the Ældsel.» She laughed brightly, but then turned more serious. «Are you here in Edoras to stay for a while, freond min? I know you have your own home, and I am glad that Lady Bereth is as glad to have you in her company as I am to have you in mine. But any time you need a bed, not a grand one, I must say that, but a bed, we will always make room for you or any other friend...» Her eyes went around the room, lingering on these friends from her youth, some seemed to take in the company of the others, while some were deep in conversation.

«I am turning nostalgic I am afraid. I will blame the ale for that!» She watched as Eleowyn seemed to awaken from a quick slumber and looking as she saw a ghost. Gratefully she accepted the apple cider, having no taste for whiskey. She heard the remarks about some evil being about, and her mind returned to Eldriths words from earlier of ill omens. She shuddered from the thought.

«I will have a positive outlook on this! Bema have brought us together again, as old friends and comrades should be brought together from time to time! Whatever evil is it in Rohan these days, a thief on the loose from time to time, but that is to be expected even in our peaceful part of the Middle Earth! Have we not fought wars in our younger days, so that we can now enjoy the peace?» She looked around, her eyes lingering a little longer on Shivased the marshal. «Where you not also in the cavalry, Taethowen?»

[Bereth]

Ber nodded thoughtfully, frowning inwardly at what seemed more evidence of loss and pain, and curiosity of wishing to hear more details delayed by being led by Eleowyn to a widening circle of old friends reunited, most familiar with each other, the interstices in her memory ever blotting out several, she was certain. Ah, but those she could not remember would surely become new friends, and new friends were a gift as well. So she made a detour to scoop up her mug of ale, tugged a chair over to the circle, tucked her dusty skirts tightly around her thighs as she sat swiftly, a nervous habit she’d adopted, and curled her hands around the mug, nodding a greeting as she listened to the stream of conversations.

When the visiting seemed to subside a bit, she spoke to a few closest to her,

“I wonder if any remember this old anthem to a long lost King?” Ber took up the mug of ale and queried, “If you’ll allow me?”

And she began to set a rhythm with the tapping of it on the scarred wooden table as she began to sing,

When moonlight mellows the fens and reeds,
And the wind falls calm ‘round the kline and steeds,
So far from the echoes of the killing freeze
That felled the Mighty King.

‘Tis he of whom the bards do sing,
When Midsummer honors the Ancient King,
And midnight coaxes out the son of Gram,
The ghost of Helm Hammerhand.

The Legendary Hammerhand.

There was more, she was sure, but ...

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Allacan accepted the honey-mead from Eldrith gratefully and took the opportunity to drink slowly of the brew to ease her burning throat, raising a toast to Bereth as she did so in acknowledgement of her comments regarding the fiery whisky. She listened carefully to Eldrith’s clear tone and found herself still puzzled - at least present my the familiar woman certainly sounded mostly in her wits and not completely overcome in her bottles, but that only left Allacan more stupefied by her sudden conscription.

It was only as the other woman re-affirmed her refusal to wield weapon or ride into war and instead explained the nature of the services that she would be offering that it finally dawned on her exactly what this meant. Not yet trusting herself to speak, Allacan simply finished the drink in silence while the conversations continued over here, beaming at Eldrith with a grin of pure joy and a touch of mischief.

Moments later her face fell a little; even as Amadhrill warned her to keep the source of the muddy footprints hidden, Allacan could see one of the bar-tenders tracking the messy trail from door to table and realised they were moments away from discovering her as the culprit.

She stood from the table with an excusatory bow and stepped before the bar-tender before the full scope of horror could erupt from them. Placing herself in such a manner that the conversations at the table would not be interrupted by her dressing down by the staff, Allacan made a noise that was more tortured toad than heartfelt apology and swiftly rushed to gather dustpan and brush to clear away the muddy mess. That completed and her throat feeling much less afire, she returned back to the crowd, this time abandoning her mud-covered boots at the door and returning to the table in her bright, mismatched socks.

By the time she returned, the conversation had moved on; she would have to explain the source of the Marshal’s Malt to Bereth another time, but gladly accepted another glass courtesy of Eldrith.

She noticed Taethowen looking at her oddly, as though trying to recall her name. She remembered the woman’s words in the Dragon Room earlier regarding her loss of memory, and seated herself loyally beside Shivased but close enough to Taeth so that as soon as there was a brief pause in the conversation she could quietly say to the latter as an aside “My name is Allacan, but you might remember me better as Fyrefly of the Eastmark. We served in the cavalry together, when you were Ǣrest Paethfindian and later when you became Marshal. You’re retirement led to my promotion, I do believe. No, don’t apologise for forgetting, it’s fine. I‘m someone who completely understands how disorientating insomnia can be, trust me on that.” She squeezed Taeth‘s hand companionably before nodding towards the excited conversation and leaning back, clearly encouraging Taeth to return to the bubble of reunion spilling out around Bereth, Eleowyn, Amadhrill and Eldrith.

Once Taeth’s focus was back on the main group, Allacan spoke in a quiet, conspiratorial voice intended only for Shivased’s ears. “So, you managed to pursuade Eldrith to sign up as the cavalry quarter-master. Genius move, my old friend, pure genius! Pray tell; which unlucky soul are you going to assign to show her the sorry state of the stores?” She finished with a laugh. If the stores were even a quarter as disorganised as they’d been when as Allacan was First Marshal, then the poor messenger would be likely to resign their commission out of terror.

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

NPC: Fallon Underwood

Fallon Underwood wavered on the threshold of the Horse and Rider. His return to Edoras had not panned out the way he’d expected it to. There had been no warm welcome at the cottage in Auld Town, and he’d found his favourite hostelry dark and derelict.

Well, things change, he thought, with a pang of regret, for in his opinion the venerable Ældsel had served the best pint east of the Shire. Many happy memories he had made there, and many friends. But if the pub was gone, it was gone and there was no use getting all sentimental about things you couldn’t change.

Besides, he was not here to gossip or carouse. He was here to make inquiries!

He stepped into the pub at last, drawing his hood about his woolly head, and found an empty table in a corner within hailing distance of the bar. It was a good spot, he thought, out of the hustle and bustle of the patrons and staff, a spot which allowed him to observe the goings on around him without himself being observed.

His tummy growled as the scent of cooking reached him. He would have done anything for a tankard of ale. But he was here on business, and until it was done his hunger and thirst would have to wait.

He spotted a few folk from the old days, all tall women of Rohan, most golden-haired. After long minutes, several perched atop his stool for a better view, he saw at last the person he sought.

He caught the eye of a serving-maid as she hurried towards the kitchen with a tray of soiled crockery.

”Eventide, freond,” he smiled. “Might I ask you to deliver something to the lady seated over yonder? Tell her I have urgent business to discuss with her.”
The maid nodded her assent: “I’ll be back to assist when these dishes are in suds. Would you like refreshment also?”
”Yes, please!” Fallon smiled, after careful consideration of the remaining coin in his purse.“Two halves of your finest ale.”

As he waited for the lass to return the hobbit slipped a carefully folded sheet of parchment from beneath his wes’kit. He opened it out on the table and glanced over it quickly.

It was a map, a map of Rohan. Below the compass, in the top left corner, a strong hand had written: “A-B-C made this map.”

The map was detailed, if crudely sketched: rivers, paths and roads connected towns and villages; triangles and chevrons indicated mountains and forests.

There were few place names alongside the dots which quite obviously marked towns (Edoras was one) but in the north east corner red (rather than black) ink had been used to mark a flat topped hill.

The Tafelberg the caption read.

Fallon refolded the map as the serving-lass returned.

“Thank you, miss,” he said, placing the map, two bronze coins and a silver on her tray. “The silver bit is for you. Kindly take this document to the lady over there, the lady I believe is known as @Eléowyn.”

As the lass bustled across the room, the hobbit took a long pull at his mug and prepared a pipe to soothe his jangling nerves.

[Eléowyn]

It was almost like the days of old, and Eléowyn was fully enjoying listening to the chatter all around her. The ambience and victuals might not be quite the equal of those in the old Ældsel, but it was, after all, the company that mattered, and she was among the best.

She was about half-way through her Marshal's Malt when the bar-maid approached and leaned in to whisper in Eléo's ear, while placing a piece of parchment in front of her. Eléo looked at it for a moment in confusion, then she quickly grabbed it up and stuffed it inside her cloak. "Who?" Eléo asked. The serving-lass pointed her chin in the direction of a dark corner but said nothing more and walked away.

Many thoughts were running through Eléo's head, and she was not about to act rashly. Already she had been unconscious once that evening, and she still knew not whether she had been attacked or simply passed out from exhaustion.She could not see who sat in the dark corner, but she could tell they were small. A holbytla? A dwarf perhaps? Hobbit, for sure, she decided. It was unusual, but not unheard of, to find them here in the Mark, and she recalled fondly one in particular who used to visit occasionally ... a long time ago.

She knew better than to underestimate a Hobbit, for they could be fierce at need, but she had never feared one for they were not prone to meanness nor violence if they were not met with it. So it was, for the second time that evening, she excused herself and headed toward the dark corner, parchment in hand.

The Hobbit (for now it was indeed certainly such) was still in dark shadow even as she neared his table, and the hood covering his head created even more shade over his face. "Show yourself, sir," she demanded, but not unkindly, "and tell me the meaning of this." The parchment was in her outstretched hand, but just far enough out of reach that he could not take it back from her, had he so desired. And without being invited, she took a chair opposite the holbytla.

[Eldrith]

For the duration of the festival this thread is on pause!

After the festival it will resume at this point in time. If you're in the middle of a roleplay, please feel free to continue it in another thread and copy posts there! General pub and social play can continue in the festival thread among the fair stalls and food! You will find Cnith and Getale over there to tend to you!

viewtopic.php?f=12&t=320



@Eléowyn Aodh is going to contact you regarding the rest of the RP! I am really sorry! I was delayed by RT in pausing this thread!! Contact me on FB if you have questions.

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

@Eléowyn (Fallon will meet you in the Life thread)