Yrill

Ceuro took the empty plate and goblet and headed back down from the lookout spot on the ridge. He had endured something of an onslaught from the angry Filignil. She was still on duty, and would be for another hour, and she was not at all amused that she had only just had the day’s happenings explained to her. The Housekeeper-come-Guard was a swift shot with a bow. None would enter Numenstaya without her knowing, and her permission.

She returned nigh midday, to find Estarfin speaking casually with the Dwarven workers about the wall building. He hailed her as she rode past him to the stables. Despite his earlier words, he did not seem particularly at ease.

“Any news, Yrill?”

Swan-Hoof had fortunately suffered no injuries, but she was restless and concerned, not only for Pelorian, but for Parnard and Danel. Both horses were tossing their heads, neighing and snorting. ‘Could the horses but speak,’ Yrill thought, not for the first time in her life. 

Mirdanel took her hand and grasped it reassuringly, with unexpected strength. She had always wondered at how an elleth with such small hands could forge as well as she did. But then for a Mirdan, small hands were a benefit. Istuil had seen the Lady work on larger items too. Though she did not have the strength…nor the skills of a metal-smith, Mirdanel was far stronger than she looked. 

A pork loin cold and pale did lie

In a pan, trussed and string uptied

What would be its uncertain fate?

But a hero soon swung open the gate -

With a spoon, like a sword, in his hand

The baster-as-weapon would save all the land!

He ground, and chopped, and then mixed up

Salt, pepper, and onion (about half a cup)

Fennel, honey, and mustard so bright

Wine, ginger, and clove, a glorious sight!

He whisked and scraped with flourish and glee

This tasteful sauce, so wonderful-ly