At War in Love. The Shadow over Rhudaur Part IV

Chapter 15. Eryndil's Inn is Full


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Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Afternoon of November 7, 1347.
Written by Rian
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Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin, afternoon of Nov. 7

"And here's your room!" said Hendegil graciously, ushering Caelen into the nicest of the available guest rooms in the house. Hendegil was thoroughly enjoying playing "mistress of the house" with her brother's home.

The servants had already brought the baggage into the room and were working on unpacking. A maidservant had opened up the bag containing Callon's clothing and was holding up a man's shirt with a quizzical expression on her face.

"That bag has my brother's clothing in it," explained Caelen hastily, trying not to laugh at the maid's expression. "I guess you can just hang it off to one side of the wardrobe. I don't want it to sit in a bag until spring, or it will get musty."

"Yes, miss," answered the maid, nodding her head and continuing with the unpacking.

"And now I'll show you over the rest of the house," said Hendegil, again assuming the air of an experienced hostess, and glad that they had the house to themselves - Eryndil and her father were out getting their baggage wagon, her mother and the rest of the family were out shopping at the market (except for Vilyandur who was probably still sleeping), Hendegil didn't remember what they had said, just that they were going to be back shortly before dinner, along with everyone else.

It was a nice house, and Caelen looked with pleasure into the various rooms. It had all been so sudden - it was a little unreal. Just a few hours ago had been that awful interview with Thillas, and knowing that the other servants were talking behind her back and saying all sorts of terrible lies about her, and then Hendegil had come like a breath of fresh air and whisked her away from all of that. And now she was in this pleasant house, with a friend whom she loved dearly even though she had only known her a short while. It seemed just too good to be true! Now if only Eryndil wouldn't lecture her very often, things would be perfect!

They continued their tour through the house and finally came to another door, which Hendegil opened with a cheery "And this is Eryndil's room - isn't it nice? Large and airy, and a very nice view!" Caelen hesitated just a second - perhaps they shouldn't go in ... but then her curiosity got the better of her. And Hendegil had said that Eryndil and his father would be gone all day. And it wasn't like she was going into his room on her own - Hendegil wanted to show her the room, along with the rest of the house.

They walked over to the window (Caelen surreptitously letting her fingertips graze over the furniture as she went) and gazed out.

"Yes, it's very nice," said Caelen, and turned back to look over the rest of the room, which was far more interesting to her. It was a nice-sized room, and Eryndil kept it reasonably clean - Caelen blushed as she thought of her own messy tendencies.

Suddenly Caelen remembered some things in her baggage that she preferred to not have the maids handle.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I need to run back to my room for a moment - I have some things that I'd rather unpack myself ... "

"Oh, ok - I'll meet you back in the drawing room, then; all right?"

"All right," answered Caelen, and she turned around and walked rapidly towards the door.

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Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Afternoon of November 7, 1347.
Written by Valandil
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Eryndil wished his father had not been so quick to reward the smith. The wheel barely held together on the trip back up the hill, and that with the wagon unloaded! There was no sign of Lastorion, so he must have made it quicker after all. But Eryndil even had to stop and support the back left corner around a few turns, while the horses pulled the wagon forward. His cloak was too bulky for that work and got in the way, so he had to take it off, despite the cold winds. And now – his tunic was torn – probably ruined.

He dropped the wagon off with his own servants at the coachhouse out back, telling them to mind the bad wheel and strode quickly toward his house, his cloak back on over the tattered remnants of the tunic. He passed the maid, who informed him that the cook was in the kitchen below, and that the housekeeper had taken his mother and the others to the market – the Cameth Brin Market, that would be, thought Eryndil to himself. Declining the maid’s offer to take his cloak – but asking her to prepare him a hot bath, he made his way to the stairs, feeling exhausted.

Up the empty stairs he went, pausing briefly at about every other landing. When he reached the Second Floor, he paused for a bit longer, looking down the deserted halls. He removed his cloak and hung it on a peg. Half of what remained of his tunic went with it, so he shed the rest in frustration. That was his favorite tunic! Well, he’d get another from his room, then go see about that bath.

He walked on down the hall to his room. Odd - the door was open - they were usually kept closed once the weather started to get cold. His mind on the doings of the morning and the strange behavior of his friend Lastorion, he walked into his room.


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Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. Afternoon of November 7, 1347.
Written by Rian
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Caelen turned around and walked quickly towards the door, and straight into the chest of a shirtless Eryndil, who was walking briskly into his room.

"Oh!" cried Caelen, startled, grabbing at Eryndil and trying not to fall, and then suddenly pulling her arms back in horror and embarrassment as she realized she was touching his bare chest.

"OH!" exclaimed Caelen, mortified, as Eryndil grabbed her and pulled her to him, trying to keep her (and himself) from falling. Legs and arms tangled in rather interesting and embarrassing ways ...

"Ooooohhhhh!" breathed Caelen slowly as she regained her balance and Eryndil released her, and she was able to see Eryndil's nicely-muscled upper body at close range.

"OH!" exclaimed Caelen in embarrassment, blushing furiously as she realized he must have seen her staring at him. She stamped her foot in anger and addressed the grinning Eryndil with flashing eyes. "You STARTLED me! What are you DOING coming in here like that?!"

"And YOU startled ME!" replied Eryndil. "And as this is MY room, I was just coming up to get a new tunic - the one I was wearing suffered an unfortunate accident on my way home. I didn't expect to see you ... two ... here," he added, finally realizing that Hendegil was there also.

"Hendegil was just showing me around the house, and she wanted to show me your room, too," said Caelen defensively, biting her lip nervously in that mannerism that was now very familiar (and starting to become very appealing) to Eryndil. "She told me the view was ... was ... very nice ..." she added, her voice trailing off and her eyes dropping down to admire his muscular frame again, almost against her will.

"I hope you like it," said Eryndil slyly, torn between the desire to laugh and a more intense desire that was starting to spread throughout his body. There was a noise that sounded suspiciously like suppressed giggles coming from Hendegil's part of the room, and Caelen looked up again, flustered.

"It's nice, but I've seen better!" she said, her chin raised high and her eyes studiously avoiding looking below his eyes.

"And so have I," thought Eryndil, glancing down for a moment at Caelen's bodice, which was still missing the button. He looked back up at her, his eyes twinkling, thoroughly enjoying the discomfiture of the one who had been making him feel so flustered himself lately. Perhaps Caelen read his thought in his eyes, for she suddenly felt an urgent desire to get away from him as quickly as possible. She remembered her errand and gratefully seized upon it as an excuse to leave

"I have to go to my room - that's why I was rushing out - I have to talk to the maid about some unpacking!" she said, trying to figure out how to get past him in the doorway without touching him, as he didn't seem to be moving out of the way.

"Your room?" he inquired, puzzled.

"Oh ... talk to your sister about it!" she cried, trying again to edge past him but seeing that there wasn't enough room. Finally, in desperation, she stomped her foot again, shouted out "MOVE!", slapped his arm as she would slap an unruly horse, and heedless of everything else, pushed past him and ran off down the hall.

"I believe she thinks I'm a horse!" said Eryndil incredulously to his sister, who joined him at the doorway as he watched Caelen gallop down the hall.

Hendegil smiled, and then turned back to look at her brother, who was watching Caelen as she disappeared down the stairs. Her smile grew broader.

"You'll need to wash up before dinner, brother - I'll have some water sent up. Hot ... or cold?" And with a laugh, she ran off down the hall.

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Eryndil's house in Cameth Brin. November 7, 1347, early evening.
Written by Valandil
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“Now what in Middle-earth could be keeping your father?” asked Rildorien, pacing back-and-forth across the floor of the Great Hall.

Eryndil made no answer. He had already told his mother all he could tell her. His father was headstrong and independent, but it wasn’t like him to be out THIS long, and alone in a strange place. Eryndil knew what he must do.

“Mother, I’ll take some men and go find him. You and everyone else, go ahead and sit down to dinner. Don’t hold it any longer.” Then, catching Narwaith’s eye, he called out to him, “Narwaith, you will come with me. Pick five other men, make sure Norumar is one of them, and let’s bring two of our Tanoth Brin boys. Round them up as quick as you can, then arm yourselves and meet me back here. Soromo – send someone up for my cloak and sword!”

Activity sprang to life all about them, one servant running upstairs, the others bringing forth dinner. Narwaith went first to the basement guard station, then back through to the guard-room in front and quickly had the necessary men assembled and the rest reapportioned to follow suit. Eryndil was strapping on his sword, his cloak held ready for when he finished, but his mother had not ceased speaking to him since the last word of command had died from his lips.

“No Eryndil, how could we eat without you? And your father? But shouldn’t Vilyandur come? He could help you. Besides – it’s his father too! But why so many men,… and your sword? Do you think there will be trouble? Oh but do be careful…”

“Mother,” and Eryndil paused to collect himself before continuing, holding up a hand to signal the servant with his cloak to wait. “Trouble is what I plan to avoid – and I’ll avoid it best by being ready for it. Now,” and he signaled for the cloak, which was immediately draped over his shoulders and clasped at his breast, “please stand aside and let us pass. See – I am all ready and the men are assembled. The sooner we leave, the sooner I’ll have your husband… my father, back here to you, and all the rest of us.”

But just as Eryndil turned to leave, there was a commotion at the front of the house. Before any sense could be made of the confusion, Camglas himself came through the outer vestibule, where he had engaged the guards, and burst into the house proper. With him were two other men, one tall, cloaked in grey, the other not so tall, and cloaked in brown. Camglas’ spirits were high, and his voice was loud and boisterous, but his guests were subdued.

“Ah Eryndil, my son… there you are! I have found a right good blacksmith for you, and another good man besides. As your father, I took it upon myself to hire them for you – took them right away from that ole innkeeper at Market Street, I did!”

Eryndil stood with his mouth agape. He wasn’t sure what stunned him more; his father’s timely appearance, or the sudden announcement about his new employees. By the time his father had finished ranging the hall, greeting everyone upon his return, reacting joyfully to the news of Caelen’s new living situation and placating Rildorien through some of her harsher redresses, the excitement had all died down, the men-at-arms had faded back to their posts to return their arms and dinner was set. Eryndil found just the moment he needed to take Camglas aside as the men and other servants returned to take their places at the lower tables.

“Father,” he asked, “what is this? I have no need for a blacksmith.”

“Oh, trust me on this one,” answered his father with full assurance, “this one is a true prince of a man!”

“But father, he isn’t even much of a blacksmith. Why, the wheel he was supposed to fix…”

Camglas’ face looked more sober at once and he looked steadily into the eyes of his son and lowered his voice so that no others could hear, “Yes, he told me it was his first wheel. But son, trust me that this is the right thing to do… to bring these men into your household. For a short time at least.” Then he paused and added, “You have my solemn word upon it.” And then, after beginning to turn he said further, “Oh – and no need to make any mention of it. Certainly not to any neighbors or any in the palace grounds up yonder.”

Camglas then turned toward his appointed place at the table leaving Eryndil behind to wonder who ELSE might invite someone or other to live with them, here in his house. The place was like a village already. He saw that Hendegil and Caelen were talking among themselves and looking up at him – how their eyes sparkled. But Eryndil wasn’t sure what he felt any longer. Certainly very confused – and as if things all about him were starting to take on a life of their own.


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An apartment in Cameth Brin. Late afternoon of November 8, 1347.
Written by Valandil
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“I tell you Rondaran, it was HIM!” said Lastorion, exasperated.

“But how could that be? How did he escape? Why weren’t we told about it?” replied the other.

“I don’t know! And I don’t know… and I don’t Know!” stammered Lastorion, as the possibilities began to creep across his mind. “Maybe they think… we were in on it! Or… maybe they want us to take the fall for the whole thing. But it’s not like it was our idea! We just… helped!”

“It wasn’t our idea – but YOU thought it was a good one anyway! I knew we shouldn’t have gotten involved,” commented Rondaran.

“Where have you been anyway? It was yesterday morning that I saw him, and you haven’t been around since. Where have you been?”

“Bored… mostly.”

“Well… in town at least, it’s only us who know about it. At least I think that’s all. And we’ll both keep quiet, right?”

Rondaran was quiet.

“Naurlith? No… you didn’t tell Naurlith, did you?” wailed Lastorion.

“Well… we agreed that we would. He seemed more inclined to fall in with us than Eryndil, that’s for sure. But anyway, where did you say that you saw the old man?”

“At the Market Street Inn – down in Tanoth Brin,” answered Lastorion, looking crestfallen. “He was working there… as a… blacksmith.”

“Well then, let’s go pay us a visit to that inn, unless you think we’re best served in just staying clear of things?”

“Doesn’t matter,” replied Lastorion. “I went back down there today. He’s gone.”

“Oh Eru…” muttered Rondaran.

- - - - - - - -

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At Eryndil’s home. Late afternoon of November 8, 1347.
Written by Valandil
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“Naneth, where are you going?” asked Eryndil, looking up from his seat at the fireside. Naneth was dressed to go out, and her son, the maid and the maid’s children were all set to go with her.

“Why, to market, sir,” answered Naneth. “What with your family here, we’ve got lots of stocking up to do. 'Nothing but the best for the master’s family', isn’t that right now?”

“Well… yes, I suppose so. But my family… are not they already gone shopping?”

“Oh pshaw! Shopping for clothes and treats and trinkets and things – the like of which they see here in town and cain’t get in the country. We’ve got to shop for things to keep on the board before ‘em at dinner time. By your leave, sir…”

“Are none left in the house then? Besides me?” asked Eryndil.

“Well now… the cook is in the kitchen, using up most of what’s left on hand for this evening’s dinner. The scullery maid is there with her. Soromo is probably ordering someone about, which’ud must likely be Borngol, who’d be here too. Then there’s your soldier-men, I s’ppose.”

“Alright, alright… but be careful. We’ve only got so much to go around,” cautioned Eryndil.

“But of course, sir. I’m always careful with the master’s money. Still though… for family, nothing but the best. G’day to you now, sir. Come along the rest o’ ye.”