All the Comforts of Home
A tale freshly told of the Gondorian
Scout of Gondor Ceredir visits the home of the Rohirrim Hraefengar and Faelwine, while Daerien of Gondor also passes by, as does a mysterious elf, Laethuil
[Faelwine(#31903)]
A gentle spring rain washes over the city of Edoras, brought by a low ceiling of grey clouds as they rush south to north across the sky. A breeze washes over the hill, bringing the smell of damp earth and young grass in off the plains, to mingle with the rain and the scent of straw of the thatch. A lovely day to idle indoors by a fire, for the air is damp and chilled, and the light of the afternoon grey from behind the clouds.
At the far end of the avenue, set with a tidy garden about, a charming home of no mean size: two stories it has, and looks as though a least one room has been added on at some point. Certainly a home for a family. Smoke curls from the chimnies two, and a warm glow eminates from the windows. Occasionally a woman, long pale hair unbound and flowing to her waist, can be seen passing the windows with the easy gait of one passing to and fro, seeing to routine chores.
[Laethuil(#30530)] Despite the rain and grey, a figure passes along the road close to the far house. His gray cloak covers his head, obscuring his features, although his sapphire eyes gleam. The cloak trails behind him, the wind whipping the ends like tendrils. His boots squish slightly in the puddles of mud, but other than that, he makes no noise.
From the other direction approaches a man, tall, young, about 18 years, perhaps. He is walking down the street, counting the number of houses along the way, as if looking for one in particular. He stops, frowning, looking this way and that, pushing back the hood of his green cloak, revealing a head of black hair. Then he makes a decision and walks more decisively toward the gray-cloaked figure. \"Excuse me, sir?\" Ceredir calls, speaking Westron.
[Theoden(#15851)]
From the house also comes a sound of harping, and a soft voice singing, a lilting that mingles with the pattering of the rain. It seems to dance with the droplets, gentle and somewhat longing. From a shed beside the house comes the bleating of goats, and then a flaxen-haired lass emerges from it carrying a bucket, and she opens the door to the house. For a moment the singing lilts out over the street, clear and yet gentle.
[Faelwine(#31903)]
After the door to the house opens and closes, admitting the lass, the woman can be seen to pause by one of the windows, peering out upon the road, her brows furrowed as she studies the pair of stangers upon the avenue. She dissapears from sight, only to reappear a moment later in the doorway, a cloak thrown about her shoulders. \"Lord Ceredir?\" she calls a little hesitantly across at the pair of them: it is the warm voice of Faelwine carried over the rain. Her gaze alights apprehensively for a moment upon the other figure.
[Laethuil(#30530)] \"What can I do for you?\" a musical voice asks from beneath the hood, which is removed, to the man. Laethuil\'s fair face appears. He studies the one called Ceredir, then turns to the woman who comes from the house. \"And a good day to you,\" he adds cheerfully despite the rain.
\"Thank you,\" Ceredir answers, startling a bit to see an elf here. He coughs, continuing. \"I\'m looking for the household of friends...but you are not from here either,\" he shrugs, \"so I will keep searching. But perhaps this fair lady knows.\"
[Theoden(#15851)]
Beside the elf, a guard makes his way, and he shakes his head. \"Greetings, good sir,\" he says to Ceredir. \"Whose house do you seek?\" He glances over at Faelwine in her doorway, and he nods his head to her. \"Lady...\" He gives a warning look to the elf, just in case.
From the house, there is the soft sound of voices, and then Hraefengar steps beside the woman. He peers out into the rain, and his eyes flicker with curiosity.
[<#31903>] Faelwine glances aside to her husband as he draws next to her, murmuring in the tongue of the Mark to him. \"
[Laethuil(#30530)] \"Yes, well...\" Feeling as if he is unwelcome, the elf turns towards his guard. \"I think I am finished with my walk down this street,\" he says brusquely, walking past the house before turning around. \"Excuse my swift departure, but there are many parts of the city I would love to see.\" With a small wave, the elf smiles and disappears in the rain and wind.
Ceredir has been wandering up and down this residential street in the rain, looking for the house of Hraefengar and Faelwine, his hood drawn back so that his dark hair sticks to his forehead and water runs in little rivulets down his face. As Faelwine spots him and calls him, though, he turns, grinning. \"Only a few days in your lands and already I\'m lost,\" he jokes to her, heading that way.
[Theoden(#15851)]
Hraefengar comes to the door, but by that time the elf has turned away with his watchful guard. He blinks, turning his head left and right. \"I do not know. Perhaps, Faelwine.\" His voice comes in soft Rohirric, but, seeing Ceredir, he raises his right hand and waves. \"Ceredir! I am sorry I had no time to talk at the feast. Please, do come in out of the wet.\" He turns. \"Silfled, could you please bring some towels?\"
[Daerien(#21777)]
Two leaves race down along the verge of a rough hewn stone, a single insect riding the leading leaf like a surfboard, speeding down the slope towards the distance walls of the city. Antenna drooping, wings tucked back as he rides the rapids as they crest over the mound of a displaced shingle that fell and got lodged on the street. The leaf spins in the air but lands with a tiny splash to carry its six legged passenger on his way, an adventure of epic proportions for the bug, new vistas to see, if he can survive this wild ride.
[Faelwine(#31903)]
\"Strange.\" A slight frown creases Faelwine\'s brow, then she shrugs her shoulders dismissively, though her gaze follows the elf away for a long moment before shifting again to Ceredir. \"I shall have to show you about the city sometime, then, that you shall not find yourself lost again,\" she beams a smile towards him, then with a shiver in the chill dampness, steps back through the doorway, lifting a hand to beckon to him. \"Please, come in. The hearths are lit, and supper shall be ready in a little while. You are most welcome to stay and join us.\"
A huge booted foot hovers over said bug and leaf, threatening to crush it for a millisecond...but Ceredir\'s stride is long, and the boot passes safely over the \'vehicle\' and its passenger with a swoosh of air. \"I\'m sure with your help, Lady, I won\'t have any trouble finding my way about again,\" Ceredir smiles, splashing heedlessly through mud puddles as he heads toward the house of his hosts. \"A good fire would serve well to warm my bones--I have enough of freezing in the rain to look forward to in Ithilien as it is.\"
[Daerien(#21777)]
Some people pay attention to people, others pay attention to abstractions, the words in a book, the sound of a song. Others seem to lose their focus upon the natural world. Daerien, ever uncomfortable around so much construction, though the streets of Edoras are not nearly so close as Minas Tirith, they are enough to provide discomfort for the hunter of the Lefnui. Were he close enough, surely he would have spotted the wild ride of the insect, but instead his focus, far down the street is upon a pair of birds, huddled under a thatched eave, staying dry, even as he is not. But he seems to be enjoying the weather, or at least in more comfort then he was before, his steps without the same degree of agony, even able to bend at the waist now to wash his hands in a puddle, fingertips blackened from where he fell on his way up the slope. If the man is looking for someone, he isn\'t looking too hard. Wiping his fingers off on his knees he returns to the silent study of nesting birds, necks intertwined in a pseudo show of love and affection. Feathers fluffed slightly for warmth and eyes shut as their roost is safe from random predators.
[Theoden(#15851)]
Hraefengar steps to the side, nodding to Silfled as she brings the towels, and he nods to a small table before patting Faelwine\'s shoulder. He can be seen passing behind her, from the doorway, and then he passes a window, and seems to vanish of a sudden. There is the cellar door, a trapdoor, and he descends wordlessly.
[Faelwine(#31903)]
Faelwine turns her head, offering a soft smile to her husband as he pats her. She stays just at the door, to close it behind Ceredir after he enters, to shut out the cold and damp. Inside, a hearty fire crackles warmly in the hearth of the main room, a few cushioned arm chairs with small tables between set in a loose semicircle about the warm halo of the blaze. Clean and orderly, the furnishings in this home are not overly ornate, yet of quality suiting a household well above average means. There are shelves with fine harps and little flutes and other instruments set neatly upon them, the metal inlays in the woodwork gleaming with the flickering firelight. There is a dining area with oaken table, and beyond that a kitchen, and other doors besides which lead off the main area.
Gesturing to one of the chair, Faelwine nods to Ceredir. \"Have a seat, friend, and make yourself comfortable and warm. Would you like aught to drink? And how is your companion... the lord Daerien, was his name? He seemed fair sore from his journey I hope he is alright.\"
As Ceredir comes at last to the threshold of the house, he lingers a few seconds longer outside, looking up the street to squint at the figure of Daerien, though he doesn\'t seem to recognize him. \"Do you often get elves here in Rohan, or is that unusual? I suppose the elves keep to themselves and never seek to stand as allies with either of our lands....?\" He shrugs, the last a half question as he steps inside the house. \"Darien...you know...\" he looks back toward the door as Faelwine shuts. \"He might have been on the street just now, come to think of it, but if so, I don\'t think he was looking for me. I haven\'t seen him much. Wonder if he\'s had his audience with your king yet...\" The question doesn\'t concern him too much, it seems, as he occupies himself mainly with removing his dripping cloak.
[Daerien(#21777)]
The stubbly headed Gondorian spots a shape moving like someone he knows, but by the time he decides to say something, the figure is gone and so, after turning his attention again to the birds, he turns on a heel, dragging his other boot as he continues his slow roaming through the city, exercising muscles and trying to find again his balance after so long having his kidneys assaulted and then days abed trying his best not to move at all. Heading back down the street towards the Kings way, pausing only for a moment to free the insect surfer from a pool forming at the corner of a house and then slowly walking after the leaf, looking to see where it will finally end up.
[Theoden(#15851)]
Hraefengar emerges again, and can be heard and seen in the kitchen. Silfled, who has gone very still watching the Gondorian, flushing slightly, turns to go help her uncle. They return, Hraefengar with a tray with a foaming pitcher and several mugs, and Silfled with a tray containing slices of cheese and dried fruits and salted meats. \"By the fire, Ceredir, please,\" Hraefengar adds, setting down the tray and motioning towards the seats. They are spread somewhat lavishly with soft, warm furs, and there are many cushions, on the chairs and also set in baskets upon the floor. He smiles and waits, his eyes merry.
[Faelwine(#31903)]
\"Elves?\" Faelwine breathes, a little surprised, almost startled at first at the question. She shakes her head promptly then. \"Nay, nay. It is not... entirely unheard of, for them to pass by, but never have I heard of one coming before to Edoras city.\" Reaching out a hand to take Ceredir\'s cloak from him, she shrugs. \"And why should we seek alliance with them? We have means enough to guard and defend our borders.\"
\"There was one on your street. Outside this very house, in fact,\" Ceredir says, handing his cloak to Faelwine before he moves to the fire as Hraefengar has suggested. He passes Silfled, his eyes briefly coveting her figure, but this being the house of friends, he quickly drops his gaze from the girl and hurries to take a seat. \"I mistook him for a local at first and asked him directions. If you don\'t ally with the elves, why would they leave their lands and come here to the city? Makes no sense but...many things are new to me here.\"
[Theoden(#15851)]
\"They are wise, and some are good-hearted, but they are perilous all the same. One cannot deal with them long without being forever changed,\" answers Hraefengar. I had not heard one was here, so I shall have to seek the information. Until then, we shall ease our minds over it. Silfled, you may stay if you wish.\" But the lass, red-flushed from Ceredir\'s gaze, demurely shakes her head and escapes through one of the doors. Then she pokes her head back in through the doorway. \"Will you still want your bath drawn, uncle? And, is Ceredir staying, and shall I bring him water to wash, or does he wish a bath too?\"
[Faelwine(#31903)]
Faelwine arches a brow towards Silfled as the girl flees, then shifts her glance to catch Hraefengar\'s eye briefly before she herself turns to hand the scout\'s dripping cloak upon one of the wooden pegs set upon the wall, just inside the door. Then, padding back across towards the hearth, she pauses and blinks at Ceredir once, then her gaze flickers towards the door. \"I though that perhaps... but I was not certain...\" Clearing her throat, she lifts her gaze and offers a smile to her husband. \"I would be curious to know, as well, of this. But, yes, let us not trouble ourselves over it just now.\" Stooping at the hearth, she lifts a small log from the woodbox and half-lays, half-chucks it upon the blaze, keeping her fingers safe from the flames.
\"Perilous? But how can they change you?\" Ceredir\'s question is directed at Hraefengar, but as Faelwine exchanges a look with her husband and speaks hesitantly, his gaze turns to her, as well. \"Is...is something wrong?\" he looks between the two of them--distracted enough to -not- follow Silfled with his eyes again, though he seems a bit startled at her suggestion of a bath. \"Oh...no bath,\" he answers hastily. \"I had one at my inn.\"
[Theoden(#15851)]
\"She is unused to attention,\" answers Hraefengar softly, once the lass has scurried away. \"And she and my apprentice.. well... the festival, so they are both a little skittish of the other sex these days. Too aware of their own, I suppose. I remember it, a little...\" He glances over at Faelwine, then coughs softly. He eases himself into a chair, resting his left arm carefully upon the arm of the chair. \"I cannot say how they do, just that they do. If one knew how, one could guard against it.\"
[Faelwine(#31903)]
Brushing her hands against each other, Faelwine crosses between them to settle herself in the chair nearest the scop. Catching Hraefengar\'s glance, a little grin lights her face briefly, though by the time she is comfortable in the chair, she has forced her expression nearly straight again. Looking across to Ceredir, she offers a small shrug of her shoulders. \"I would not know, for never in my life had I seen one, until just now. They keep to themselves, as you say, and perhaps it is best that way.\"
\"The festival?\" Ceredir echoes, a little puzzled. He glances toward the doorway through which the girl disappeared. \"She did seem quite ...flustered by that boy. The one up by the dais....but he\'s quite young, no?\" With a shrug he turns back to the pair, just as something unspoken passes between husband and wife. \"I..uh..\" He coughs suddenly into his hand, perhaps to hide the look of utter surprise now on his face.
[Theoden(#15851)]
\"It is a celebration of spring, and a hope for fertility of horses and herds and the land. And, some years, when they are able to find a milk-white mare in foal, they bring her to the feast. Touching her is supposed to make a woman fertile, and also hopelessly irresistable. So say the legends, and... well... we often enough have many solstice births...\"
\"Fertile?!\" Ceredir blurts out, jumping to his feet so fast that his chait topples over, clattering to the floor. \"It doesn\'t always happen, right? I mean, not all the time? Right?\" A fine film of sweat has formed on the young man\'s upper lip.
[Faelwine(#31903)]
Faelwine blinks at the scout\'s sudden outburst, then lifts a hand to her mouth, perhaps to cover a grin that threatens to appear there. She glances sidelong towards her husband, eyebrows raised a little, then lowers her hand slowly, her composure maintained, if only just: there is a slight twitch at the corner of her lips. \"You... enjoyed the festival, then?\" she asks calmly, then shakes her head. \"Not... not always,\" At this, her expression does fall a little, \"It is a blessing, though, when it does especially in times of bounty and peace, such as it is now.\"
[Theoden(#15851)]
\"Not all the time, no,\" answers Hraefengar with a gentle laugh. \"But any time it may happen, after all. It is just... well, it always seems far more likely when it is done during the festival. Do you know the lass, Ceredir?\" He tilts his head, then rubs at his shoulder. \"It... ah... was it just *one* lass?\"
\"What? I mean, well, yes, of course it can happen anytime, but if there\'s sorcery involved and...\" Still standing, Ceredir is even more flustered, looking confused, as if he hadn\'t expected the pair to take this little unintended confession so well. \"Of course it was one girl...well, I think it was...but...well, yes, I\'m certain it was...but her name...Wynna...? I..I don\'t remember..\" He bites his lower lip.
[Faelwine(#31903)]
Now Faelwine frowns in truth, her brows furrowing a little. \"It is not like sorcery. We honour the season with the festival, and so, sometimes, perhaps, good fortune is brought...\" She shrugs, her words trailing, uncertain how to explain it, though she still looks across to Ceredir. \"It would be well for you to see if you might find her, in the event it did happen, though, Ceredir. I am afraid I know no lass with a name beginning Wynn... Hraefengar?\" She glances towards him, one rose-gold brow arching questioningly.
[Theoden(#15851)]
\"No sorcery this.\" Hraefengar shakes his head. \"It is remembering our place in the world, I think, and fortune that favors more than aught else. Hrmmm...\" He pauses, tilting his head. \"There is Wulfwyn, Waldheresdohtor, and there is also Wynflaed daughter of Deorbrand. Those are the only girls I know who are here in Edoras right now, who are unattached enough to lie with a stranger. Wynflaed is more brazen of the two...\" He shrugs. \"Do you know what she looked like?\"
\"But the white mare...\" the scout protests...\"I didn\'t mean to...knowing what you do about my own birth...\" Ceredir turns a pleading look toward Faelwine. \"But it was after the festivities and there was a tavern and mead..lots of mead followed by ale. I...\" he shakes his head. \"Those names don\'t seem right. She was blonde. Blue eyes..such beautiful eyes.\"
[Theoden(#15851)]
\"Children are welcomed, no matter whence they come, and the more so after the famine. Children are precious enough, and you are an ally, Ceredir.\" The scop smiles. \"More than that, a friend. We do not care so much about whether you belong to a noble house or no. After all, we are of the Eotheod, we are the people of Eorl. What need have we of more nobility than that?\"
[Faelwine(#31903)]
\"It is alright.\" Faelwine murmurs, her expression softening to a faint smile. \"Fortune and sorcery are not the same fortune is brought, sorcery wrought. The milk-white mare may bring fertility for some, and not for others. Fate deems which, not any living will.\" Her smile eases, curves her lips more, and she nods to the Gondorian. \"It is as my husband says. Though... that could describe half of the folk in the Mark. Still, perhaps the lass shall make herself known to you, ere you depart.\"
With a sigh, Ceredir stoops and sets his chair back right. \"I hadn\'t intended on that. But...if she has a child...\" His face pales noticeably. \"If she has a child, I\'m sure she will seek me out. Not too many men of Gondor at your festival after all. But..I\'ll see if I can find her.\" With a sigh, he sinks into the chair again, listless now.