Summary: Three Rohirrim come to Combe to answer their curiosity about the rumors of a meadhall being built in Bree. Geswine, Sigebyrht, and Leoffrith find Freyga and Maldwyn at the Comb & Wattle Inn.
Freyga-
Freyga sat in the corner she was beginning to claim as her own, just to the side of the fire, tuning her harp. Half her thoughts were elsewhere as her gaze lingered in the middle-distance of the room, only vaguely aware of the clucking of the inn’s namesakes as they pecked the straw floor for crumbs. At every open door, though, she looked up, trying to match the face with the hand that penned the note sitting on the table next to her, gently creased.
Maldwyn-
The door swung open and in stepped Maldwyn, his swarthy southern complexion a contrast to the pale Bree-landers who inhabited Combe. He held the door open briefly for a couple who were on their way out, before shutting it behind them and making his way to the bar. "An ale for me," he said, glancing to the lass with her instrument. "And one for the harpist."
Freyga-
His face wasn’t the one she sought, but it wasn’t unwelcome, either. Freyga smiled, and gently nudged a stool out from under the table, inviting him to join her.
Maldwyn-
"They really did that? I hope you told them what's what, Liz. Right." He grinned and picked up the mugs as they were filled. "Many thanks," he said, going to the nudged-out stool. Sitting, he sat her mug down on the table corner closest to her and raised his in greeting. "And here I'd had you pegged as a fiddler."
Freyga-
Freyga’s smile glided open as she picked up her mug. “Diolch,” she said, thanking him in poorly-accented Dunlending. “I prefer the harp or the lyre…feeling the strings hum helps me play.”
Geswine-
"There aren't..." A well dressed, well spoken man with bright eyes and the flaxen hair of the Rohir stepped across the threshold hot on the heels of Maldwyn. "Many fiddlers in the Mark, the instrument has it's roots in Gondor and Arnor but never caught on as much where I, and I assume the lady hails from."
Freyga-
Her smile turned smirk, Freyga turned her gaze on the newcomer, spotting the embellishments in his garb that echoed the flourish of ink on the note sitting next to her. "Hard to sing and play a fiddle," she answered. "And my songs always have words."
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn's grin spread at the attempted Dunlending, "Croeso," he said- 'You're welcome.' As the newcomer approached, he nodded. "We play the crwth lyre and sing. Then there is the esteemed pibgorn..."
Geswine-
"Noswaith da." The man spoke after a moments pause, looking between the pair, his eyes settling on the bard. "I have found the men of Dunland misguided when it comes to music, but they have voices that carry across the valleys." For a full blooded Rohirrim it was as close as he could offer in the way of praise to the ancient enemy of his people. "I am Geswine." Offering a low bow he stepped in from the doorway. "And I believe you are waiting for me."
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn raised his brows in amused acceptance of the horselord's backhanded compliments. "I'll take it."
Freyga-
Freyga dipped her gaze to Maldwyn’s belt as if expecting to find the mentioned bowed instrument or hornpipe. She looked up again when addressed and cut the smirk from her smile. She set her harp on the bench beside her and picked up the paper, glancing at it, then at him, and with a tease—“I can’t imagine why.”
Sigebyrht-
The door to the Comb and wattle opened, letting in a warm breeze. A man with green robes, which carries a symbol of a horse upon it, heads towards the bar-counter. Sigebyrht speaks with the woman tending it, while reaching for his coin, he orders a mug of ale, paying for it, then heads towards the pillar, leaning upon it as he does while drinking.
Freyga-
Freyga's gaze sidled to the newcomer, half-expecting him to join their circle of rumor-seekers, but he seemed not to be there for the same purpose as her other guests. She let him linger, and listen, and counted on him overhearing as she turned to Maldwyn. "Geswine also heard of my empty plot of land and my intention to erect on it a long hall to house our stories, but whereas you found me in person," she chuckled, opening the note and clearing her throat to read: "My name is Geswine, son of Oswald. I am a teller of tales, a singer of songs and more importantly a recorder of deeds. It has come to me that you have purchased land in order to build a home our folk cast so far from home. I have come so far from my own ring giver in order to record the deeds of those very men and women. I think we can help one another, and I would very much like to see this thing done. If you would like to talk on this further send to Barliman at the Prancing Pony in Bree, I will travel to you the next day. "How very...Rohirric?" She smiled wider, and her dimple winked.
Maldwyn-
"Rohirric indeed," said Maldwyn, eyeing the horselord over.
Geswine-
"When you make a trade in rumour, tale and song..." he began, meeting her eye evenly, only briefly flickering his gaze toward Maldwyn. "You learn to only wear down your legs if you are certain the tale you chase has some substance." Inclining his head, the Rohir smiled easily. "This one did."
Sigebyrht-
Sigebyrht looks towards the group of the people seated at the table, his gaze is fixed upon Geswine, he drenches his beard in ale before walking over and wiping it off his lips. He quirks his brows at Geswine, then smiles. "Ye be the Geswine lad, if I'm correct, aye?"
Freyga-
“I am glad you see that,” she answered, her smile wider the more their party grew. “Geswine, this is Maldwyn, of the Clan of Wanderers,” she joked, referring to their previous evening’s banter. “I am indeed the Freyga you seek. And here! Another!” she announced like a stage direction in a Gondorian comedy, motioning to the ale-bearded.
Sigebyrht-
Sigebyrht smiles, drenching his beard in ale once again. "Apologizes if I disrupted. Sigebyrht, son of Rohan, at your service and your family's."
Freyga-
She repeated her name, adding no parent to the end of it. She "Welcome, Sigebyrht," she answered, pronouncing the name like someone who had come late to the language, though the red-sheathed seax that rested in her lap was rarely seen outside the Mark.
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn nodded to Sigebyrht as he was introduced. "Of all the places I thought to find myself surrounded by straw-heads, a Bree tavern was not on the list."
Sigebyrht-
Sigebyrht chuckles, nodding, finally finishing his ale. "Oft do we seem to be in lands quite different than our own, Bree-land included. How, if I may, did you all get here, to Breetown?"
Geswine-
Giving another bow of his head, the Bard spoke up "I am, and I find myself in Bree-land because of all of you." He swept out an arm, cloak shifting as he did to reveal a decorated sword hilt at his belt. "So many of us Forgoil..." he teased the Dunland slur for the Rohir out, shooting a toothy grin at Maldwyn as he did. "Find themselves flung far from the mead benches and ring-givers of our homeland, and I would record the deeds that they do."
Freyga-
"So many as might build a meadhall," Freyga added, her gaze drifting to Sigebyrht to draw him in. "What would you say to such an idea?"
Sigebyrht-
"It is wise, indeed."
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn smirked at yet another Rohirric pronunciation of his native tongue. "When south meets north, surely that means new tales to tell, forgoil or no."
Freyga-
Freyga smiled, her plans pieceing together like shingles. "New tales, and old ones being shared." She spoke to both Geswine and Sigebyrht, giving the news she had already imparted to Maldwyn. "In Middleham there is a copse of trees at the far end of Long Street. I am there, clearing the ground, and any help you can offer to the task I will gladly pay for with a story or two."
Sigebyrht-
Sigebyrht strokes his chin. "Hmm, I shall think about it. I am a woodworker, and most certainly could help, but I am not quick to rush into things with strangers, even of my own kind."
Geswine-
Peering curiously at the man of Dunland curiously a small smile appeared, worn on his youthful features as easily as a torc about the neck of a Thane. "Indeed." Was all he said upon the matter before turning back toward Freyga. "I am not above hacking at brambles, and I'll put coin down to see stronger backs than my own bent to the task."
Maldwyn-
"I'll take that wager," said Maldwyn with a grin. "Dunland is a land of brambles."
Freyga-
Freyga nodded to Sigebyrht's concern. "Even a day's labor will help, never mind many more."
Geswine-
He shook his head quickly, hand going up as he did so. "It is no challenge, the coin will be to pay those with stronger backs." The Eorling was as tall and broad as many of his people, and the blade at his side spoke of more strength to him than just his throat, but he was no ox by any stretch.
Sigebyrht-
Sigebyrht nods. "Perhaps. I may aid, I have no home elsewhere."
Freyga-
Freyga glanced up at the built-up stain of pipesmoke among the rafters, the cracks in the ceiling through which dust from adventurer's boots above had fallen through for years. "This is mine," she said, and for a moment her thoughts slipped away from their little band.
Geswine-
Raising his hand, Geswine thumbed toward the door. "I've a room at the Pony." He spoke plainly, stepping forward and claiming a chair and the space at a table as his own.
Freyga-
Freyga's thoughts drifted back down into their patch of firelight, her gaze returning to the party, her smile gentle as it returned from her brief lapse into daydream. She turned to Geswine. "Of course you do."
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn smirked and sipped at his drink.
Geswine-
Brow knitted, Geswine stood just as quickly as he sat. "And there you can find me, should you wish for serious help with this." His pale gaze floated across the other two gathered with them as he went on. "If not, I expect I'll be by to play, sing or tell once you have it all done, eh?" With that he made for the door, hesitating as it was half open, worn oak latch in his hand. He looked as if he would say something else, but something has him bite down on it. With a final coldly polite nod he left, only the jarring noise of a badly fitted doorframe meeting oak heralding his departure.
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn lowered his mug to the table and glanced at the other two. "Late for an appointment?"
Freyga-
Freyga watched the man's exit, her smile growing dimmer. She kept her eyes on the door as if she could watch him carry on across the porch, down the steps, and away to Bree. "I shouldn't have said that."
Sigebyrht-
Sigebyrht quirks his brows.
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn eyed the door as well, then grinned at Freyga. "Oh, he'll be back. How could he resist the prospect of kicking around a Dunlending outside of its natural habitat?"
Freyga-
Freyga smirked, but her gaze still lingered on the door. "He's here for the same reasons we are—to find kinship."
Sigebyrht-
Sigebyrht nods, still leaning upon his pillar. "Hmm, aye. I suppose I'll help, took me a while to think."
Maldwyn-
"The horse-lords are not known for their small, simple halls," Maldwyn said with more authority than one might expect from a Dunlending who'd never set foot in Rohan, "So we'll need all the help we can get."
Leoffrith-
The door opens hesitantly and a large man with russet beard and the smell of horse about him comes up short for a moment, blanching at the sight of so many. But it's too late to not come in, so, looking a bit like once-bitten-twice-shy, he makes a quick line towards Lisbeth, and fumbles for a coin as he mutters barely audibly to her about an ale.
Freyga-
The view from the doorway would show a pair of eyes already staring at the door-space before he had even occupied it. Freyga's reverie was broken by the immediate appearance of another horselad. She shook her regret and her plans for apology out of her mind and offered him a smile with a gold ring's gleam.
Sigebyrht-
"That is true."
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn watched Freyga, lips curling in faint amusement as she went from reverie to gleam. "You'll soon have recruited all of Bree's foreign-born inhabitants."
Leoffrith-
Leoffrith takes a mug of ale and glances at a particular table, not occupied, his eyes darkening a moment, then finds a place to sit a bit out of the way, as much as one can in this small, unassuming tavern, to sip his ale and listen.
Freyga-
"And maybe some born right here," she said, the secret wink of a shine in her eye as she glanced at Maldwyn. She stood, setting down the unplayed harp beside her letter and half-drunk ale. She strolled over to Leoffrith, her smile not so wide as to alarm him, but bright enough to be kind. "There's three groups in here..." she said, motioning to the ruffians gesticulating as they argue by the wall, the chickens seeking seed on the floor, and the two quiet strangers she had just come from, "...and you still choose to sit alone?"
Leoffrith-
Leoffrith looks anxious as someone approaches, like someone who hasn't been amongst people in a long time. When he speaks it's with a rough rustic manner and a notable Rohirric accent. "Been long since I been in a pub, or anywhere other'n the horse-farm, and no good come of it ever'time I done, Miss."
Freyga-
Freyga glanced over at her band of two, then back to Leoffrith. "Well, what do you say you make an exception this once and join us for a pint?"
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn raised his mug in greeting to punctuate Freyga's words.
Leoffrith-
Leoffrith seems to be withering the more but he takes a quick chug of ale and makes himself look up, and begins to talk in a torrent of words. "I were comin' by on account I heard tell from Éogar up Hengstacer way as he heard from Bob at the Pony as someone what were keepin' here were lookin' for to build a mead hall and I were hopin' as to find out if'n they got a stable-keeper or if'n they need one or suchlike, so's maybe I should just get to askin' after that so's I can go."
Freyga-
Freyga listened, her smile steady throughout, even as she listened to his last breath to be sure he had finished. "Well, stable-keeper," she said, offering her hand as an echo of Maldwyn's original nod to the Breeland custom. "I am Freyga, and I am the one who plans to build that same mead hall you mention."
Leoffrith-
This seems to give Leoffrith a hint of ease. "Well, miss, I'm a journeyman ostler, were apprentice to Miss Brynleigh and then served a bit under Bob at the Pony and longer under Master Éogar at Hengstacer Farms, that's where I'm keepin' now. Only I'm done to learn as much from him as I can and... well, do you mean to have a stable? And do you got a master of the guild ready for to run it? If I might be so bold as to ask, miss. Oh, and I'm Leoffrith, son of Leoffler, once from Marton and now... not really from nowhere."
Freyga-
"We can build one," she said in an agreeable, thoughtful tone. "You are welcome to it, when we do, but what we need now are builders. Would you be willing to fell timber, split shingles? The hall needs building, and I can offer only a little coin, but regardless..." She pulled over a seat and sat down facing him, leaving Maldwyn to keep quiet company with Sigebyrht, who seemed lost in dreams or his ale. "...you are welcome to the site, stable or no, for company outside the farmer's folk. We're all looking for a little cheer."
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn returned his attention to the man at the pillar. "So, what brings you to Bree?"
Leoffrith-
"I don't got no skill as a woodwright," Leoffrith says, "though I can haul and work an axe at need. But..."He sets the mug down and looks the woman in the eyes. "I might be able to qualify for to be a master of the guild soon. If you're meaning to have a full stable, one what serves visitors or what tends the horses of the folk what live there, then..." He stops and frowns. "Look, I'm startin' all from the wrong end. I got the coin to buy a mastership if one gets made, and to build a stable to run, and building one could be what makes me a master, if there's to be a mastership."
Freyga-
Freyga's smile slowly splits into a wide grin, lost in the unfamiliar words and enchanted by their mystery. "If I knew what a mastership was..." she admits with a charm of a chuckle, "...I may consider taking you up on that."
Leoffrith-
"Can I buy you an ale or somethin'?" Leoffrith asks. "This'll take a few minutes."
Freyga-
Freyga''s chuckle blooms into a laugh. She turns in her chair, slinging her arm over its back to call over her shoulder to Maldwyn. "Can you bring me my cup? I think you're going to want to hear this, too."
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn grabbed his mug and Freyga's, and went over to join them. "Fill these back up, if you please, Liz," he said, sliding them over to the bartender before leaning against the bar and turning his attention to the other two. "What's this about masters?"
Leoffrith-
"Right, so, here in Bree, there's a guild for ostlers, stable-keepers and suchlike," Leoffrith begins. "Every stable in the land is run by a master of the guild. They set prices and ensure quality. There's only so many masters of the guild at any time, so's the field don't get flooded. When you've done your time as an apprentice and a journeyman, you can't just become a master, you got to wait for one of the masterships to open up for sale, and buy it. Either if'n one already is retires or dies, or if'n someone is building a new village, a new breeding farm, or something of the like, what justifies a whole new stable, so the guild can be persuaded they can make a new mastership to sell, without it competing with the ones what are. Like how Éogar got to make a new farm on account he was meaning to breed, not to cater to travelers, so he didn't compete with Bob or the other masters in Bree. If'n you're building a new mead hall, they might agree to make a mastership for it, and if you support me for it, and I put up the coin to build and stock a stable, that can be how I earn the right to buy that mastership."
Freyga-
Freyga leaned back and let a long whistle out through rounded lips. She looked over at Maldwyn, fully expecting to see the same bewilderment on the brownlander's face. "Leoffrith, son of Leoffler..." she said, turning to Leoffrith, eager to see the thing done, "...if you can get us a stable built, then it's all yours."
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn did look similarly bewildered, but he also seemed to enjoy the confusion of a foreign culture's bizarre customs. He nodded along with Freyga. "I'll haul the wood myself."
Leoffrith-
"I can't promise they'd even consider it," Leoffrith says, "and even if they would, you'd have to convince them that your mead hall is something as warrants a master's stable, but don't compete with theirs. Or does, but not so much as to take away more than another mastership gives them. I just wanted to see if it were even worth askin'. I don't even know your name, and you don't know me, don't know if I'm any good, but you can ask Éogar, or I can get a letter. Or might be Miss Brynleigh would speak on my skills and qualities too."
Freyga-
Freyga knew the name Eogar—had sung it in one of her stories—in the ever-changing tale of one she called Brighteyes—but Brynleigh was a new one. She nodded, pocketing his offers. "You're offering to put up your own coin, time, and work, who am I to turn you down? All I have is land and an offer of kinship. Turning you down would be like sending Orome away from your door because you didn't hear his horn call."
Leoffrith-
"Then I will petition for to talk to the masters," Leoffrith says. His earlier anxiety is completely gone, it's almost like he's in his element. He's not, but he's too busy to notice. "But I will got to tell them who it is will be as is speakin' on it if'n they agree to hear. What name should I give'em?"
Freyga-
Freyga considered, knowing that navigating the legal system of Breeland was not going to come naturally. That was in her blood. "How likely are they to listen to you? That is, what do you imagine they will want to hear?"
Leoffrith-
"They will want to know my recommendations from the masters I served, and my ideas for how I'll do the stable, the building, and the runnin' it after. And they'll want to know what you mean to build, whether it's enough to have a stable, whether it's like to draw business away from theirs, whether a stable there will make the guild look stronger and whether me running one will live up to the reputation the guild wants to keep.If'n you speak honest and persuasive 'bout what you mean to do, that's all as is needed. That and that you be supportive of me, so's it's good if'n you believe in me."
Freyga-
The horselass nodded, silently thanking her wyrd. "Oh, I believe in you. That's the easy part of it." She smiled. She held her cup in both palms, rolling it between them as she thought. "I think it's best you met Woodroe. He's never built a long hall, but he's the best builder we have. As for drawing away business...we aren't opening a business. We're founding a home."
Leoffrith-
"Aye," Leoffrith says, "that's why I'm here. The founding of a new village, or what might grow into one, that's the best chance for a new mastership."
Freyga-
Freyga clapped the side of the cup. "That's it then. You tell me who I need to talk to and where I need to go, and I'll answer any questions they have. Woodroe and you can talk the specifics of the stable—where it should be on site, what work we should divert to it, when in the plan of things will we get it done. Though, it may take priority over the hall itself. If we keep attracting Rohirrim, we'll need more than the workshop to keep their heads dry."
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn nodded. "Straw-heads have always been as comfortable in a stable stall as in a bed, to hear my father tell it."
Leoffrith-
Leoffrith glances at the fellow he hasn't met and frowns a moment, but only a moment, and it's more of confusion than anything else. "I will speak to Éogar 'bout gettin' an audience and that's like to be within a few days, then if they're willing to consider it more, where can I get word to you 'bout when they might want to talk to you?" Leoffrith says, as he pushes back at the bench and stands, offering a hand to shake.
Freyga-
Freyga tilted her head to where Lizbeth had busied herself with humming as she stacked her freshly washed mugs. "I'm living here till there's somewhere on site to stay." She stood, taking his hand, and not wasting the opportunity to also raise her cup to him. "Welcome to the meadhall, Leoffrith."
Leoffrith-
"I... I would like--" Leoffrith begins, his expression clouding up. He pushes it back, whatever it is. "I mean to earn that welcome, Miss Freyga, if'n I can. It's a fair ride back to Hengstacer and the sun is low. If I'm to move ahead on this quick I'll need to be off. Thank you for considerin' my proposal. Hope as we can help each other." He takes a step back so he can bow, a bit clumsily, before hastening for the exit. "Take care."
Freyga-
She put her hand on her hip as she watched him scurry out, bringing the cup to her lips for a long, refreshing quench—a bit of what she had earned. "I think...this may actually happen."
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn grinned. "You sound more surprised than I am." He finished off his mug and set it on the counter. "Fate, and more importantly you, want a mead-hall here in Bree-land, leagues and leagues from the next- so Bree shall receive a mead-hall."
Freyga-
"You know how it is...when you've been sheltering a dream, and you finally get to see it breathe?" she mused, setting her empty mug on the table. She shook her head, clearing the thoughts that ran after on the heals of the young ostler, and turned to the man who had quickly earned her trust. "I will be off to Bree. If I reach it too late tonight I may be able to find Geswine early morning and be back for news from Leoffrith by evening." She touched the leather kidney pouch on her belt, frowning as she puzzled how much coin she could spare for a horse to the Pony. "Should be enough..." she muttered.
Maldwyn-
"Take my horse," he said, noticing the internal battle written on her features. "She's in the third stall from the right. She brought me all the way north; a little ride to Bree is nothing, and I've a room here tonight." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the stairs, then pushed his empty cup toward Lizbeth. "Her name is Aethelflaed." He waited to see if she recognized the Rohirric queen's name.
Freyga-
Freyga raised a brow at the name, but the reference passed an amusing smirk across her face, and her worry was swiftly forgotten. "If you are sure she will take me."
Maldwyn-
Maldwyn reached in his rucksack to produce a slightly-bruised apple. He held it out. "An offering of peace, and she will let you take her to Umbar if you so please."
Freyga-
Freyga eyed the apple, but the look he maintained as she considered his offer made her reach for it. She held it close to her. "Thank you. Good eve, Maldwyn."
Maldwyn-
When she took the apple, he winked. "Good eve, Freyga," he said, and turned to head up the stairs to his room for the night
