Goldleaf smiled. "My king has strong opinions, and strong plans for the good of his country, and the well-being of Middle Earth," she said simply. "Indeed, it could be seen that I was spying, but it was not my plan. Now, you know who I am and that I am under King Elessar's protection. I will not seek to agravate your lady whilst I am here, though. My only wish is that the king sees that all is well in the lands of his friend and ally Eomer King."

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

Eston smiled again "You are only under your kings protection if it is known." he said softly. Eston liked a challenge he knew he would have to find out what she was really here for. A thought came to him, three missives came from Gondor that morning. " Well I shouldn't keep you Lady Morwen will be sorely put out if I keep you any longer." he said with a bow. "I bid you farwell." he bowed a second time and walked away. He avoided the maid that scolded him earlier and skirted to hearth.

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Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Goldleaf smiled, watching him walk away. She could tell that the fact she was an ambassador worried him. He should not. King Elessar had no bad intentions in sending her here; she flipped the Gondorian tree coin between her fingers as thoughts ran through her mind. Perhaps he saw her as a potential threat.

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

Eston went to the far edge of the hall to a dark corner to think. He leaned against the wall seemingly calm and relaxed, he ran his fingers though his cropped black hair a common gesture that he was thinking. His duty was to protect the Family of the Westfolde Hall, he had a network of informants at his disposal.
THe last time an Ambassador came from Gondor it was simply buisness over a land dispute. Sent the entire household into a scattered heap. That Ambassador came with twenty men at arms and seven servants... Goldleaf came alone. THis puzzled Eston..why? He ran explainations through his head several times trying out each theory.
He doubted that Goldleaf was an assassin... or did he? What a perfect way to pass undetected, thought of as weak and good natured. Eston smiled in spite of himself. Maybe she was indeed here just as a friendly visit... Eston doubted that, but he felt is was wise to wait and see if she provided more information before informing Deawen.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Goldleaf slipped the coin back into her dress pocket, still thinking. The king had chosen her as his ambassador for Gondor several years ago; he had percieved her sharp mind and her easy way to get to know people. King Elessar had thought her perfect to send as a representative because she was different from his other choices; stony-faced men travelling with bands of attendants.
He also knew that she was loyal, and her loyalty to Gondor could not be swayed. She had a firm belief in King Elessar, that he was intended to rule and keep peace over his lands.

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

((OOC: Going to be on holiday to a computer less house, so I won't be able to post for about a week. Just so you guys know.))

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[Awaiting a new signature banner by me]
My former names on AU:
Callondhaer, Duilantion

( Alright have Fun! )

As soon as Deawen had left the Hall it became a flurry of activity. Tables were brought in from various storage places, and scrubbed with boiling water and vinegar. The high table was draped in a white cloth adorned with the Crest of The Westfolde hall. Deawen had spent days making the crest, stalking the halls in a foul temper when a particular stitch knotted or snapped. A newer version of the Westfolde Hall banner was placed behind the Lord and Lady's dais as well as old tallow candles were replaced. Eston took it upon himself to bring down the sheilds that hung on the wall above the Great Door. Each one was solide wood and plated with gold or bronze. Though they were scarred and some of them were old they had new paint and polish. He dusted them off then replaced them above the door in order, from oldest to youngest.
Outside the Hall the Villagers waited in the fast failing light waiting for Beltane to begin. Stable grooms brought out five horses from the stables, a black stallion, a chestnut flaxen stallion, a white mare, a blue roan gelding, and Palomino gelding. The HOrses stood quietly with their grooms, save for the Chestnut flaxen stallion, who reared up several times and took four grooms to pull him back down to earth again. He snorted and danced around like a two year old colt. He tossed his mane and then pawed the ground impatiantly. Then without warning he squeled and reared up again ears pinned flat against his head, he danced around again scattering the grooms who all were terrified of the stallion.
Of all Deawen's horses Bredol was the most feared, he was spoiled by Deawen and Midira, hated by the grooms.
Midira in her finest gown went outside the hall to see her horse, the white mare. But was distracted by the comotion with Bredol. The stallion was now bucking and biting any stupid enough to come near him.
Like Deawen, Midira loved horses and was not afriad of Bredol. She waited for the stallion to stop bucking before approaching Bredol. The stallion stopped frozen, ears pricked forward neck strained in Alert. He whinned and tossed his head once then made a deep nicker. When Midira went up to the old stallion he dropped his head and let Midira stroak his soft muzzle. She whispered sweet words tot he old Stallion stroaking his glossy neck as he nickered back to her. " Bredol you old roch stop being a pest." Midira whispered to him. THe grooms sagged in reliefe, Bredol was trained to only allow three riders on his back, Deawen, Midira and Eston, to prevent anyone from stealing the prized stallion. It was ingenius but the a curse to the grooms. THe old Stallion transformed from War horse to the twenty year old horse he was, when Midira spoke to him.
Midira gave him one last hug and then scampered off to the other horses. A groom fidgited and The Stallion nipped at him, ears pinned flat again in warning.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Goldleaf could hear the preparations in the hall and watched as the villagers started to cluster round outside, waiting for the festival to start. She was interested. This was so different from her own country. Any celebrations in Gondor consisted of the king sitting with his wife, the steward and his wife, and members of both their households in the great hall. There would be music played, of course, and sometimes King Elessar would bring in a few of his strange guests from long-ago adventures - elves, creatures he called hobbits too. Then there would be a toast at the end, always of the king's own choosing. Goldleaf would sometimes go, but mostly she felt disinclined. She didn't feel she really belonged there, though she loved her job.

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

Morwen motioned for Goldleaf to follow and entered her own house. She called for Uaffa (sounds like "Waffa"), Eohric's man servant. "Yes, may lady?" he said, wiping his hands on a rag. He was slightly older than either Eohric or Morwen, but looked quite a bit older due to his shock of white-blonde hair. Morwen asked, "Has the wood been set outside?" He anwered, "Yes, my lady." Morwen replied," do you say anything else?" He just smiled and continued his previous task. Morwen turned to Goldleaf (who I assume followed, don't want to GM). "It would be wonderful if you could help arrange it. It is really quite a bramble."

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Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

*Sen laughed aloud, as he put down his arms, ambling slowly over to Deawen.*
Well, then, I guess they will do. If they pass your approval, they are fit for any hall.
*As he got close to her, though, his voice dropped to a whisper, and he placed one finger gently on her nose.*
Though the only one I seek to impress is you.
*He finishes with a smile, though his head raised, and he frowned slightly. A sudden gust of wind had blown through their room, and sent the door of a long-closed cabinet swinging on its hinges with barely audible creak. It was not that which caused his frown; it was the bright (and dark) gleam of metal inside. Sen sighed, and moved to close the cupboard, once more sealing the two suits of armor in darkness. That is where they belonged; in the past, forgotten. Yet, when he turned to Deawen, he was smiling again.*
Ah. Shall we join our guests again? It must nearly be time to see things off...
*Sen offered his arm to Deawen, and looked her in the eyes. He had been rescued by her, so long ago, had she but known it...*

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"True Evil cannot be reckoned with. Only Defeated." - Sen L I Starfire

(Banner thanks to Imlosiel the Lost! )

Deawen smiled up at him, he was nearly two heads taller than she and it always made her so small and yet protected. She wrapped her slender arm around his powerful offered arm and suddenly started to laugh, " I just hope Alda doesn't try and bring his prized sheep over the fire like last year!" Deawen couldn't help it she laughed even more at the memory of the poor ewe that passed through the flames after much coaxing on the other end of the rope, the fleece caught fire and the poor beast ran madly about. Deawen hiccuped from her laughter then became serious.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Sigefolc had exited the Hall through a side door, son after accepting Lady Deawen's offer of asistance with the roof. Jogging the short distance to the secondary hall, a servant met him at the door. "Lord Sigefolc" he said "Your garments for tonight's festival are laid out in your quarters. Lady Alais is already dressed and waiting, so I would suggest you hurry." The servant said, remembering all too well the Lady's temper for indigintes and insults.

Sigefolc chuckled, then nodded "Rifght you are. Tell the Lady I'll be only a few minutes" he said, heading to his quarters. Once, inddide, he quickly changed into a green velvet tunic with fine embroidery upon the collar and cuffs, a pair of black leggings, and a brown leather jerkin and matching belt. Thus clad, he picked up a slim bronze circlet, the symbol of the Lordship of his house, an old family of Landholders and horse breeders in the Eastfold, and left, putting the adornment on firmly. "Alais" he called, searching for his wife.

"It's about time. What took you so long?" Came Alais' voice as she rounded a corner, the hem of her blue dress sweeping the ground, and put her hands on her hips. "Lady Deawen and the travelers bringing bad news?" she asked.

"No" he said, shaking his head "None thats immediate, at least. Come" he said, offering Alais his ar,, which she took. "We don't want to be late." he said, as they headed out of the hall and up the dirt path to a field next to the main hall, where the bonfire was being erected.

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Son of Bellatrix

Banner by Pandora

Eston made sure the bonfire was built to traditional methods. It was large but low enough that Lady Deawen could leap the fire without landing in embers. Eston knew that Deawen looked and played the role of submissive, nonexerting wife but it was only skin deep. Deawen was more agile than most of the housecarls. Her flaw was her height. Deawen's first Beltane ended in disaster when her gown caught a flaming brand then caught fire, Lord Sen tended the burns with the skill of three healers. Deawen ever since then had the flame more shallow.

When the couple entered the hall, several housecarls ( Men at arms) began yelling the Westfolde war cry. it was defening sound even for Deawen who was used to such cries. The fire was ready to be lit and Deawen felt nervous, several travelers were watching one had never seen Beltane, Deawen was determined to make a good impression.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Morwen set about arranging the bonfire. She had learned firebuilding the hard way-trial and error. She set a little nest of papery birch bark in the very center, surrounded that with small sticks, then larger sticks, then fat large sticks, then small logs, then larger logs. She made sure that all of the little feathery branches that could catch on her clothing were broken off and put around the edges to burn off quickly. As she worked, she thought about how Eohric would not be able to share this festival with she and their sons. It also brought a flare of anger up against Eomer. Why in Bema's name was he called away today of all days? Couldn't the King wait a day for his horses? With a savage gesture, she thrust the last stick into the fire, perpendicular to the ground, a birch limb covered in bark to start the thing ablaze. "There!" she said, feeling as if she had just fought and won a battle against the big pile of brush.

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Reasons I love England #217:
I saw "whilst" on a traffic sign

After following Morwen into her house, Goldleaf walked over to the bonfire that Morwen had asked her to help arrange. "Of course, I'd be glad to help." She helped pile the logs as she saw fit and helped Morwen to arrange them properly. As she did so she could sense that something was troubling the woman beside her, but she knew better than to ask what was wrong; it was none of her buisness.

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~~Siggy by Lembas~~

haha Morwen, that entire last post of yours reminded me of when you visited my house how we built the bonfire... hahahaa sixty-one matches later we had a fire, though we didn't use matches did we? We used that blow torch of a lighter...haha)
Eston wander to Morwen's fire to see if everything was alright. If Morwen was like most women, she would be silently brooding over Eohric leaving. " Seems like you have everything under control." he said softly.
Midira ran screaming to Eston she was really crying but she wailed so loud it was a scream. Eston spun around and caught her in his arms asking what could possibly make her make that noise. She sobbed that Eodred pinched her becuase she wanted to go to their " hide away."
Eston knew Eodred would not pinch Midira unprovoked so he asked " What did you do to him to be pinched in return?" Midira shrugged as if she could not possibly think of anything she did wrong. "I kicked him." she said still innocently. Eston sighed, Midira, the spitting image of her mother would do anything to get her way even if it meant getting voilent.
Deawen was never sure why eston cared so much about her children, he didn't have a family of his own and was perfectly content to be the " uncle figure" to her children.
"Well they won't be there long I am sure your mother is starting the festival soon." he said diplomatically. She smiled wickedly and ran off to announce to her brothers their tragedy.

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home