Scarburg Meadhall

[Thinlómien]

Life was ironic, Wulfric thought, sitting outside alone in the dark evening. Today he had promised the men they could have a drinking contest, yet there they were having it without him, because his father - his sad excuse of a father - had decided to throw off a feast before he had been able to suggest it. Wulfric was in no mood for games now, and it was likely no one missed him. Who would? A worthless son, a bully of a brother and a leader with no followers - no, no, it was better he was out here alone.

To be honest, Wulfric did have other worries than the shortcomings of his father or those of his own too. The ground he sat on was cold and uncomfortable, but it was not much compared to the cold and discomfort Wulfric felt inside, at least if you asked him. All the other men had cheered when Athanar had settled his business with Faramund, and the young lord's father had regained his authority over the hall and publicly rebuked his son. Wulfric had felt pity and anger on behalf of the humiliated son. Faramund had maybe not been the best of lords, but no man deserved such treatment from his demented father he had been looking after.

Wulfric started picking pebbles and throwing them to the distance. Maybe he should go and visit Lord Faramund and offer his sympathies. The proud man might not welcome them, but with two old men going nuts with age ruling the area, the alliance and friendship of those young and strong would benefit both of them. And of course if he went back to Faramund's hall, he could have another chance to meet the girl again. Their meeting had been regrettably brief, but Wulfric had trouble keeping her out of his head. Target number three hundred and sixty-two selected, Wilheard would say mockingly, but it never was quite so simple to Wulfric himself.

[Lhunardawen]

Ginna left the smithy in a quicker pace than when she came, fearful that the longer she tarried, the more difficult it would be for her to walk away. The cold night wind did nothing to take away her longing to return to Harreld's warm embrace, and caused her to hurry still. She slowed as she approached the kitchen's back door, wiping tear stains off her face with her shawl and running her fingers through her hair. She stopped at the threshold, took a deep breath, and went in.

The activity in the kitchen had decreased somewhat since she had gone, indicating that most of the household had settled down to eat. Frodides was placing a bowl of stew on the table where they had their meals. Kara and Modtryth were both absent.

Saeryn stood with her back to most of the kitchen, kneading some dough, more forcefully than necessary it seemed to Ginna. She came to her and as she draw near she saw Saeryn's eyebrows drawn low in an expression of keen displeasure, and the corners of her mouth turned down in a scowl.

"Are you all right, Saeryn?"

Saeryn looked up sharply. "Oh, Ginna, it's you," she said, the intensity leaving her face in an instant and a small smile flitting briefly over it instead. She rather ignored Ginna's question and asked one of her own, "How did it go with Harreld?"

Ginna took a moment to respond, quite unsure of how to answer the question. "Not good," she said eventually, with a sigh. Tears began to cloud her vision. She blinked them away. "It was a painful talk, to say the least."

Saeryn glanced over her shoulder at Frodides. The older woman sat eating her stew in a matter that belied her ignorance of their near vicinity. She sat staring off into space, her left profile in view to them.

"Do you want to go talk about it?" Saeryn asked in a quieter voice.

"I don't think I can--"

A choke interrupted Ginna's speech as the implications of her conversation with Harreld struck her. She felt sobs rising within her and breathed deeply to quiet them for a little while. "I don't think I can talk about it at length," she said, her voice quivering with effort, "but I do need to talk about it."

Despite the coating of flour on her hands, Saeryn put one arm around Ginna and pressed her close. "It's alright, now, sweet," she murmured. "Just cry. It's alright."

Ginna shook her head and hugged Saeryn back, but almost immediately pulled away. Saeryn understood and let go and then turned to the bread.

"Let me set this bread to rise again and then we can go somewhere to talk, if you like," Saeryn said.

Ginna nodded her assent. She pulled a stool closer to Saeryn and sat, waiting silently as Saeryn finished her work. She glanced now and again at Frodides's face, trying to discern how much she heard and what she thought of it, but as always the cook's face was inscrutable. As Saeryn set the bread in a warm corner to rise, she told Frodides where they would be if she or Modtryth or Kara needed help with anything. Then she gently took Ginna by the hand and led her wordlessly to the women's quarters.

Saeryn sat on a bed across from Ginna and looked at her patiently, waiting and not forcing her to speak. Ginna tried to put on a brave smile, but it came out sad and weary.

"He does not want to stay betrothed. He wants to obey my father's will," she said, her voice breaking at the mention of her father. "I could not gainsay him, Saeryn."

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld stood in the doorway despite the cold and watched Ginna's receding form walk away under the night sky. When she slipped into the Hall, he closed the door and sat down to his yet uneaten food.

He relived his conversation with Ginna repeatedly as he chewed and swallowed, polished a blade, cleaned up, and sorted things to end the night.

He felt less heavy-hearted than he had all day. He found, to his surprise, that he felt rather light-hearted, even hopeful.

What are you hopeful for, Harreld? he asked himself as he swept the floor with shovel and broom.

He had promised Ginna that if a way could be found, he would walk that road with her. He didn't know of any way that did not honor both her father and her, but if one could be found, then all could be well. What if it never came? He had no idea. But somehow he could not be bothered to think of that. There had to be a way. He was convinced of it, if only because he had promised and she had shown her acceptance of his promise by welcoming his embrace. Maybe it could happen yet!

Though he had no idea how, it did not seem to matter. He left his smithy and crossed the yard to the men's rooms, and fell asleep shortly after lying down.

[Nogrod]

Thornden left the kitchen with an air of bewilderment and frustration about him. He knew not what he had done to deserve such rejection and anger at the hand of Saeryn, and it rather stung. He tried not to feel anger at her unreasonableness, but he was only human, and tired at that. He was deep in thought when Captain Coenred caught his arm.

Thornden turned at once, his face clearing of his thoughts. He saw Hilderinc quietly excuse himself from conversation with Coenred, nod to Thornden, and go back to his seat. Thornden waited for Coenred to speak.

“Athanar asked me to tell you that whenever you had a moment, he wished to speak with you,” Coenred said.

“Very well, thank you,” Thornden said. Coenred nodded and turned and went off. Thornden sighed and stood irresolute a moment. With a sigh he decided to go and speak with Athanar now. He felt he could eat no more, there was too much turmoil still within the hall and its members to feel completely at ease, despite the warm mead in him.

“My lord, you called for me,” he said, coming to Athanar’s side. Athanar turned partially in his chair to face Thornden showing with his hand for Thornden to sit down beside him.

“Thornden,” Athanar said in a low voice, quickly checking no one, especially the hobbit, was listening. “Is it possible that you had some knowledge of those two who fled and you did not come open about it with me?”

Thornden felt his stomach sink heavily. He looked at Athanar and saw that his lord’s face was serious and even stern. It was just possible that he did not know and was guessing. Thornden sincerely hoped this was the case and decided to test the water.

“My lord asked me if I knew aught yesterday, before we sent search parties out,” Thornden responded quietly.

Thornden detected a hint of disappointment in lord Athanar's expression. Lord Athanar leaned back in his chair and seemed to be thinking. Then he leaned back forwards looking at Thornden straight in the eyes.

"Do you wish the men you lead are open and frank to you? Do you trust people who are not willing or courageous to come open with you?" He made a pause but Thornden could read from his expression he was not quite finished yet.

"Which one is the worse to your eyes, that you can't trust someone, or that there is something in between you in the open so that you can then try to work your way forwards?"

"It would be worse if I could not trust a man," Thornden responded. It was clear now that Athanar somehow knew that Thornden had held something back. His words partially shamed him, but more strongly was the feeling that he had not done complete wrong, and he roused his pride to answer Athanar. "But I would strive to be such a leader to my men that they would trust me enough to not be afraid of telling me everything. And if a man held back something, I would seek to find what I had done to deserve such distrust or disloyalty in him." He looked Athanar squarey in the eye as he spoke so boldly.

Lord Athanar leaned back and smiled. The reaction took Thornden by surprise. Slowly Athanar raised the goblet into his mouth and took a heavy draught from it. After wiping his beard he set the goblet back to the table and turned his eyes on Thornden, now piercing his eyes with his gaze.

"So my good Thornden, how would you have done that which you call for in just one day, in a situation where you'd be commandend by your superiors to take charge of everything in a place where people still mourned for the previous lord... If you know the answer you do have something to teach me my friend." Athanar made a fleeting smile, raised his eyebrows and leaned forwards. "I do love your straightforwardness Thornden, but I'd also counsel you to think before you talk. If you had reason to say what you did just now after a month or two, I would really need to consider, but now you're trying to avoid things, now aren't you?"

Lord Athanar looked at Thornden quizzically and called for more wine.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

It was a cold evening, but that did not matter to Hilderinc. For a long time he stood on the threshold, breathing in the crispy air, feeling suddenly refreshed. Soft breeze was blowing through the night, bringing with it the soft scent of the rotting leaves and the quiet sounds from the forest. Somewhere deep in the marshlands an owl just woke up. Hushed sound of voices could be heard coming from the Hall.

Briefly, soft light flickered from the smithy as its door opened, and somebody came out. Hilderinc saw a figure marching through the courtyard, and another standing in the doorway. He retreated into the shadow, not willing to meet anybody. As the door of the Hall closed behind the unknown night wanderer, he turned about and walked past the corner to take a stroll around the place.

If he wanted to be alone, however, the plan didn't quite work out. He barely took a few steps, when suddenly out of nowhere there came a small pebble and hit him into the knee. Hilderinc hissed in surprise and pain. A sound of rustling came from the darkness, as somebody moved and was getting up in start. Then a young voice came from the shadow.

"Oh, it's you, Hilderinc." After the initial shock, the speaker's voice was calming down. Hilderinc could not blame him, his own heart stopped for a moment when the stone had hit him. "I didn't see you."

"Wulfric," he recognised the voice. "Neither did I." He rubbed his hurting knee. "I would not have expected you out here... casting stones at people."

[Folwren]

“I do love your straightforwardness Thornden, but I'd also counsel you to think before you talk. If you had reason to say what you did just now after a month or two, I would really need to consider, but now you're trying to avoid things, aren't you?"

Thornden half shook his head and turned his eyes away. He rested one hand on the table and clenched it slightly. He felt like a mouse in a cat and mouse game, and he thought he knew how it would end. The mouse rarely won.

Modtryth came over with a pitcher of mead in response to Athanar’s hale. Thornden sat with his eyes cast downward as she poured for Athanar and then departed again. When she had gone, he had an answer ready.

“As a leader of men, you should know that the first days, perhaps even the first hours, of your leadership are perhaps the most important moments to establish your lead. Of all times, that is when the men’s eyes are on you most. Like it or not, men will form their opinion concerning you within that time. In your case, my lord, you showed yourself to be a hard man, not one to be trifled with or questioned, and one who would punish any misdeed swift and hard.

“Perhaps I should not tell you how you should have established your lordship here, but I would say that mayhap it would have been better if you had spent more time watching and waiting for a while before passing such a harsh judgment on Lithor. If you had cared to know him before judging him, you would have known he wasn’t an evil man prone to cause mischief. But you didn’t know him, and you didn’t take the time to find out, and so the rest of us saw that there would be no second chances for someone who made a mistake. But that was another problem – we didn’t know what would count as a mistake with you. What lord Eodwine would have laughed at or simply passed over, you considered treason.

“And so when Lithor and Erbrand did something that was serious, I said nothing. I did not want them to be punished by you.” He looked at Athanar. By telling him the entire truth and his entire thought process of the preceding day, he realized he held no position of defense for himself. As a soldier and a subordinate, he had acted wrongly, and he fully expected Athanar to see it that way. But he felt that as a man and a friend, he had acted rightly, and nothing could dissuade him of that.

“I was afraid for them. For what you might do to them. That is why I told you nothing. And if, now that you know my reasons, you still find me untrustworthy, then I will have to accept that as part of the consequences of defending those two men.”

[Thinlómien]

"Wulfric. Neither did I. I would not have expected you out here... casting stones at people."

"Neither would I," said Wulfric, sardonic but not unfriendly. That was all the apology Hilderinc was going to get - Wulfric was a man much too proud for apologies, and it would never even have occured to him to apologise to someone of lesser rank or status. Nevertheless as he was calming down, he did feel a bit stupid, casting stones at soldiers like a wilful child.

"Sit down since you're already here. There's something I would like to ask you." Wulfric was improvising now, suddenly feeling life return to fill the gaps made by the disappointments and humiliations of the previous days. He had told his brother they had to get to know their men and get to know the place so that they would be ready when father would finally fail.

With just the slightest hesitation, Hilderinc obeyed and sat down on the cold ground. Wulfric paused for a moment to think what he knew about this man - he was probably in his thirties, he had not been a part of Athanar's household very long, he was a common soldier but clearly valued by captain Coenred and Lord Athanar himself, and his hair was cropped short in a very un-Eorling manner. Not very much that, Wulfric thought.

"So tell me, Hilderinc," he said after a while. "You haven't served my Lord father for very long yet. How did you come to serve him - why did you pledge your sword to him and not some other lord who would surely have welcomed your services just as gladly?"

[Folwren]

"He does not want to stay betrothed. He wants to obey my father's will," she said, her voice breaking at the mention of her father. "I could not gainsay him, Saeryn."

Saeryn looked at Ginna tenderly and smiled a little. No. Ginna would not gainsay Harreld. She was too gentle and too in love. "Is it something that you can give time to? That if you wait, soon Harreld will see it as you do? Perhaps time will change his mind."

"No, not time I think." Ginna opened her mouth to continue, but she hesitated; she did not want Saeryn to be reminded of Eodwine's absence and cause her pain. It was enough that she empathised with hers. "But his mind can be changed. He said that if there was any other way, he would take it willingly." The way she said those hopeful words, however, told Saeryn that she could not hope to find one.

"Another way can be found," Saeryn said, stubbornly. She reached across and gripped Ginna's hand. "Your father gave you to Eodwine to turn you into a lady because apparently he wasn't doing such a good job himself. Harreld has had more hand in your tutelage here than Eodwine himself. Your father doesn't realize this. Also, your father is in no position to judge which man would be better for you. He has already misjudged things in his speculations.”

Ginna squeezed Saeryn's hand gratefully and managed a weak smile. If Saeryn felt any longing for her husband, she did not perceive it, and admired Saeryn's strength all the more for it. But while she had echoed her sentiments, Ginna did not understand how it led to another way. "What do you suggest can be done?"

"Write your father yourself and tell him that you cannot marry Thornden. Perhaps tell him you cannot marry any other than Harreld. Tell him that if he will not bless the marriage, you will marry him anyway. Tell him I and lord Eodwine support your decision. I think perhaps a strongly worded letter will perhaps show your father that you cannot easily be swayed."

Ginna mulled this over. She doubted that a letter would be able to change her father's mind, even one that mentioned the former eorl and his wife, but a faint hope stirred within her as Saeryn assured her of their support. What if she took this a step further and travelled half a day's ride back home to talk to her father face to face, maybe even take Harreld along if he was willing? But for one rare instance, she did not want to decide rashly. There was much to think about and she knew she was yet too emotional to make the right judgments. Her head began to throb. She found herself wishing again that Eodwine were around.
There was no need, however, to involve Saeryn in her confusion. She had been kind enough to take time to talk to her, and had more pressing concerns of her own. Ginna gave Saeryn a small, hopeful smile. "Perhaps," she repeated. Better for her to think that she could figure things out on her own.

Saeryn looked at her and nodded. That was all that could be said at the time. "Good," she said, nodding. "I don't know if there's anything else to be done about it. At least not just now. Let us think about what is at hand with Lord Athanar and his household settling in."

Ginna nodded. And then eyes slightly widening in recollection, she opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Saeryn looked at her curiously. Ginna let out a brief, nervous laugh.

"I do not mean to pry, but you have been so kind to me and I cannot let this go, even though it seems you would rather I did. Were you all right, earlier in the kitchen? Is something wrong?"

Saeryn drew back, sitting upright and laying her hands in her lap. For a moment she said nothing, contemplating whether or not to tell Ginna the truth about what was bothering her, but then she burst forth with, "It is what makes me think that your father is so wrong in everything he has said! He thought that I would really marry Thornden if Eodwine were dead! Eodwine isn't even dead, and your father is presuming this sort of thing! What kind of lady does he think I am? What kind of lady does he think you are?" Her eyes flashed as she looked at Ginna.

Ginna bowed her head, unable as she was to look at Saeryn in her indignation. She could feel her cheeks heating up. It's strange, she couldn't help thinking, laughing mirthlessly inside, that for the first time in her life she was ashamed on account of him who had always been ashamed of her. "My father," she began hesitantly, as she tried to look for the right words to say, "he is...practical." She let out a heavy sigh and forced herself to look at Saeryn. "I do not know him as well as a daughter should know her father. But he had been through difficult times in his life; perhaps he had been made cynical by such experiences.

"One thing I do know is that in this situation he means no harm. He does not know either of us well enough not to write such things as he did, but this is his way of showing concern. I beg you not to think anymore of his words, or to judge him by them."

“He has caused harm, though,” Saeryn replied. “He has been rude and presumptuous, and his letter has damaged your relationship with Harreld. And what he has said presumes horrible things about both Thornden and myself, and if Thornden ever finds out . . .” She paused and then regretted her words. Ginna did not deserve this. Saeryn reached out and touched her arm. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “There’s no reason for me to upbraid you for what your father said. Forgive me, Ginna. Forget what I’ve said, and let’s work together to solve this problem.”

"You are forgiven," Ginna replied, "and I am sorry for what my father's words have made you feel." She covered the hand touching her arm. "I only hope that this would not make things awkward between the two of you. It is bad enough that the letter has driven a wedge between Harreld and me. I would not bear it if..." she let her voice trail, looking guiltily at Saeryn.

"We couldn't relate the same after this?" Saeryn finished tentatively, looking at Ginna. "I guess that will depend on Thornden's behavior now. I fear I cannot be a little suspicious of him. He thinks things through, and he goes by what he thinks is his duty. If Eodwine dies. . ." She shut her mouth and pressed her lips close together. If Eodwine died, Thornden may feel it his duty to take Saeryn as his wife, if only because he was Eodwine's right hand man, and Saeryn was carrying a child and would need somebody. But Eodwine was not dead, and if Thornden was entertaining any such thoughts, they had better be discouraged. Besides, she didn't need protection. She had Degas, and she also had the assurance of Athanar's promise of the land going to her child, if it were a son.

"It matters not," she said, turning her thoughts back to Ginna. "I will handle myself as I see necessary with Thornden."

Ginna gave her a brief smile. She wanted to tell her that Eodwine was not going to die, but it was not an assurance she could give with certainty. She said instead, "Come on, it's late. We have a meal waiting for us."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc had originally intended to spend some time alone, but now that Wulfric started to talk to him, he could not just walk away, so he obliged and sat down next to the young man.

"So tell me, Hilderinc. You haven't served my Lord father for very long yet. How did you come to serve him - why did you pledge your sword to him and not some other lord who would surely have welcomed your services just as gladly?"

"Why did I come to serve your father?" Hilderinc repeated Wulfric's question. He was curious as to why the young man suddenly asked him about this, but then, it was probably just a whim. After all, he was ever hardly talking about himself, unless asked, and many of Athanar's soldiers knew only about as much as Wulfric had now said.

"I have heard much about him, also from my late master, commander Wintearn of Gramdel in Eastfold," he started. "You probably understand that if you spend enough time in the service of various lords or commanders, you get to hear at least about the important men like your father certainly is. I believe commander Wintearn and your father knew each other from long ago. Once Wintearn finished his task of safeguarding Gramdel from the brigands who had appeared there recently, he had no longer need for extra men, and so I left for Edoras with the hope to find a new master more easily in the large city. There, I heard that your father was still looking for soldiers to add to his household. He accepted me when he heard about my experience and Wintearn's recommendation of my skills." He shrugged. "If you are not bound to your lord or commander, it is not that easy for a soldier to find a place in times of peace, you know? Wintearn was not the first nor the last of those under whose command I was, just like your father, I expect. That said, with all due respect to your father, of course. But this is just how things are. Maybe if he sees that he is no longer in need for more men, he will let me go and I must again seek for a new master."

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar listened expressionlessly to Thornden open up before him. After Thornden finished he was silent for a moment. Finally he laid his goblet to the table with a long sigh.

"I do honour your frankness, even if I had to push a little for you to finally come clean with this issue. But I'm a bit surprised about your attitude. With your age and experience I don't think you are in a position to tell me how to rule my men..." He paused for a moment taking a good look at Thornden. He took a stern face and leaned slightly forwards, talking in a low voice, slowly.

"I don't think even lord Eodwine would have laughed at a situation where during those exact first hours of his rule in a new place the local soldiers would skirmish with his men, his daughter would get beaten and his authority would be openly questioned in front of everyone in a banquet while others would have messed with weapons inside the hall while getting drunk." Athanar reached for his goblet without taking his eyes from Thornden’s. Slowly he leaned a little backwards giving Thornden time to think about what he had just said.

Suddenly lord Athanar flashed a thin smile as he had clearly remembered something. "How was it you said yourself, if I had cared to know people before judging them? How about you then master Thornden?”

There was silence between the men. Thornden was unsure whether Athanar had meant the question as one he should answer for real and Athanar had fell back into the expressionless half stare he pulled out at times. That puzzled Thornden.

Finally lord Athanar’s eyes set alight again and he broke the silence now looking back at Thornden in all frankness. “I don’t know if lord Eodwine ever taught you this, but if not, it is high time someone did.” He paused for a moment to heighten Thornden’s attention. “A lord needs to rule and act differently in different situations. At times a lord needs to be stern, even stone-cold, to exert his authority to the fullest. At other times he needs to be forgiving and lenient, even amiable if that comes naturally to him. The secret of great leadership lies in combining the two in a reasoned measure.”

Suddenly lord Athanar frowned. To Thornden it looked like he was suddenly overcome with sadness. Athanar toyed with his empty goblet for a short while before finally addressing Thornden. “So what should I do with you know?” he asked thoughtfully.

“I do admire your courage and your loyalty with your men. And you’re not one of those who boast more than they do, like so many young captains in the city seem to be. You have qualities to become a great leader Thornden, it is easy to see if you have eyes for it. But then again you have betrayed your lord more or less the first thing in your role as a seneschal to him.”

Lord Athanar looked at Thornden solemnly. “Tell me master Thornden, if you were me, how would you treat a man like you in this situation?” He nodded slightly to let Thornden understand he was in fact waiting for an answer this time.

[Folwren]

Thornden stared in disbelief and then broke eye-contact to glance about the room. He wanted to laugh and yell in exasperation at the same time. Anger built up in him and he decided suddenly what to say. His eyes snapped back to Athanar’s face.

“Do not toy with me, my lord. I will not pronounce my own judgment. You may do to me as you will, but I will stand firmly in defense of my men. My soldier did not skirmish – he defended the honor of Lady Saeryn. I can say nothing for Javan’s behavior, but he has been punished for that. And I say again that Lithor did not and would never mean harm or disrespect. I understand each group of men you lead must be led differently, but I am sure that you have truly misread the men here. You came and took over without any consideration that we were still mourning the loss of Lord Eodwine, and it is your fault those two men deserted you.”

[Thinlómien]

Wulfric stared blankly to the distance. Hilderinc hadn't told him anything he wanted to know - why did people follow a lord like Athanar, what were the qualities that made people admire him, what could make up for the unpredictability caused by feebleness of age so strangely entwined with sternness of character? Wulfric hungered to know what was it that his father did so well - and that he himself could do so much better if he only knew.

He was a determined man. If he put his mind to a thing, he did it. That was how he had become such an excellent swordsman at a young age, won the hearts of dozens of pretty maids and even mastered archery, an art of war he considered more fit for peasants than lords but a useful skill anyway. If his little brother Wilheard handled horses better, ran faster or wielded his spear more accurately than Wulfric, it was only because Wulfric hadn't bothered to try enough to be better.

So now I will learn the art of being a leader of men, women and children, instead of being just a captain of soldiers. I will keep my eyes and ears open, Wulfric thought. Sadly Hilderinc hadn't given him much to go on, if not a lesson on how trivial things soldiers based their loyalty on - give them coin and something to do and they are happy. It fit all the soldiers Wulfric knew well enough but he was certain that was not all a good leader needed to provide.

He realised he had been quiet for a long while after Hilderinc had finished his story. The soldier, seeming quiet by nature, had not said anything either, just let the silence stretch between them.

"Thank you for your story, Hilderinc. It was what I wanted to hear," Wulfric said. "But I'm afraid I am no good for further conversation tonight, and I sense you are restless to go your own way too. You may go, I have no further questions."

Hilderinc rose and bid his lord's son good night. Wulfric returned the wishes absent-mindedly, he was already hearing his future call - not the golden future he had envisioned once, but an honourable future earned with sweat, blood and beautiful words.

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar looked at Thornden in both disbelief and disappointment. Listening to Thornden's points he had shrunk back in his chair and had just looked both old and weary, but with Thornden's last words he got angry and very much alive. Suddenly he rose up and looked at Thornden straitght into the eye, his eyes flaming now.

"I hope you had left that last sentence back behind your teeth young man!" he said aloud, standing tall. There was no chance people around them wouldn't have noticed the incidence even if they hadn't heard the previous discussion between the two.

Lord Athanar was drawing breath deeply through his nostrils without letting his piercing eyes off Thornden. Wynflaed tried to calm him taking his hand and giving him a praying look. Most eveyone around them held their breath.

"Don't go anywhere, seneschal. That's an order! I need to..." for a moment he looked like he was rushing away but ended up looking uncertain as to how to proceed realising the people around having their eyes and ears open for what he was about to say. He was clearly having second thoughts now. Not the least because of his wife

Suddenly, and to the surprise of the people at their table, lord Athanar took his dagger from his belt and placed it beside his goblet. After glancing at Thornden he bent down and produced a short blade from his boot and laid it beside the dagger on the table. After that he stretched back straight and looked at Thornden.

"Just you and me Thornden, outside, we have a few things to iron out... And this cancels my earlier order..." he glanced around the table they had been sitting in to make sure they understood he would have none following them.

Without looking back at Thornden he rushed off the hall halting only for a short while with Coen and ordering him to see that no one came out from the hall trailing them.

[Folwren]

Ginna’s mention of dinner reminded Saeryn that she was hungry, despite the pre-occupation of Rándver’s letter. As they stood up, she told Ginna she would go sit with lord Athanar and lady Wynflaed. Ginna nodded and replied that she would see that food was brought out to her.

At the door of the kitchen, they parted, and Saeryn went towards the hall. She entered and looked across to where the lord and lady sat. Her seat beside Wynflaed was empty, but she was surprised to see the chair by Athanar not occupied by his oldest son, but by Thornden. Strange. He had been sitting with the men earlier.

She had not crossed half the distance to the nearest table before she saw Athanar rise in anger to give his reply to Thornden’s last rebuke. She heard only half of his words, but she saw the anger in his eyes and his whole being, and saw him draw his weapons before leaving. All her annoyance and anger and mistrust of Thornden caused by Rándver’s letter was swept out of her mind as worry for him replaced it. Whatever else was true, Thornden had been a rock and a steady foothold during this period of turmoil, and she felt to lose him now that Degas had gone again would be too hard to bear.

[Folwren]

"Just you and me Thornden," Athanar said, "outside. We have a few things to iron out. And this cancels my earlier order." And without speaking again, Athanar turned and left him.

Thornden sat momentarily very still, his eyes fixed on lord Athanar’s knife and dagger. Then he slowly rose and looked out at the men assembled there. Some were looking at him, and he could not help but meet the eyes of his old friends. After pausing just a moment, he, too, took the dagger from his belt and laid it beside Athanar’s and then stepped down from the table and followed lord Athanar.

Half way to the door, Saeryn intercepted him.

“You cannot go out there by yourself, Thornden,” she said, grasping his sleeve.

“Why not?” he asked, turning sharply.

“We don’t know what he’ll do!”

“He is our lord and my leader, and I have wronged him.”

A questioning look crossed her face. “How?”

“I will tell you later, if you do not know. But I must go and meet him.” Saeryn still held him. “He cannot hurt me, Saeryn. He has laid down his weapons.” He felt it would be dishonorable to point out to her that he was yet young and strong and Athanar past his prime in life, and so he left it unsaid.

Saeryn may have understood, for she let him go, but not without saying, “Be careful.”

Thornden turned at once and strode swiftly to the door and outside. He saw Athanar standing in the middle of the empty courtyard, the cold light of the moon and stars casting a pale shadow at his feet. Thornden came towards him and stopped several feet away. He waited for Athanar to speak.

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar waited for Thorndenin the middle of the yard and with his arrival he waved with his hand towards the biggest oak tree around under which there was a crude bench.

They walked towards the bench in silence and Thornden sat down after lord Athanar did and showed him to follow his example.

They were silent for a moment.

"You thought I was challenging you to a duel?" lord Athanar asked finally. His eyes were smiling now.

"Well, that thought passed my mind, but I thought not", Thornden answered truthfully.

Athanar laughed dryly. "Heh, this is irrelevant, I don't know about you and your skills, but I'd say I'd only lose lord Eodwine in wrestling three times out of five were he here and in form..."

There was a silence once again, now longer as both men thought about Eodwine, from their own angles; the one as a fellow nobleman from the war he knew and honoured, the other as the beloved leader in flesh and blood, virtues and vices.

"So Thornden, the question is how do we get back in."

Thornden looked puzzled. To lord Athanar it looked like he was thinking fiercely.

"I think I need to explain..." lord Athanar said slowly and leaned to the great oak.

"Yes, I was mad for a few seconds." He began in a slow voce. "I think you have already seen that I get carried away when pressed. My wife does a superb job in calming me down most of the times but sometimes even she can't hold me back..." He fell into his thoughts for a moment. "Oh my, my sons, they seem to have my temper but not my ability to cool down... yet. I hope some day..."

Thornden remained silent and waited for Athanar to continue.

"Okay, back to bussiness", Athanar said suddenly. "So how do we get back in?"

Thornden looked even more puzzled than before.

"If we go in amiably, like hands over each other's shoulders, or whatever, there will be no problem in a few days or weeks and we have time to work this out... if we go there with stern faces, not looking at each other, we have a great chance of a mutiny in a few days... if I go back there alone without you we have a rebellion this evening - and if you go alone I'd better go and pack fast to get my familyback to Edoras alive... whatever the King would then think about it, about me or you..."

Thornden nodded. He was following the thought now.

"Too many eyes and ears were at present for us to try to conceal the rift. And we're not going to solve it here and now... what you said makes me think again of how things were told to me - and maybe I should revisit my information about what happened on those forst hours - but it's hard for me to forget that easily my seneschal faulting me openly for two men turning outaws; like I was inspiring that Erbrand to stab my trusted soldier or encouraging them to defy the order... It seems to be complicated, like things in life are."

Thornden looked like willing to add his mind but lord Athanar hushed him silent as they both heard the doors opening and then saw the light spreading over the yard. They both recognized the form of Coen.

"Lord!" He called in half a voice looking into the darkness his eyes hadn't yet used to. "Is everything allright?"

"Yes it is Coen! Go back inside! We'll be there shortly"

They watched as Coen turned into a silhouette at the door and how the light suddenly disappeared from the yard as the door closed.

"So Thornden, which way should we enter the hall?" Athanar asked raising his eyebrows in the sudden darkness after the light.

[Folwren]

Thornden had difficulty finding his tongue for several seconds. He stared at the dark outline of Athanar without blinking, and then let out a breath.

“I do not understand you, my lord,” he said, finally. “Here I expected you to wish to beat me, and I find you trying to make it well. You leave angry enough to kill, by all appearances, and now you ask if we are to make it up and return back to the hall as equal friends, so that your men don’t split into yours against mine. Before I answer your question about how we are too enter, I must know – what are you going to do with me? What I said inside was true – though I did not say it in any manner than any could overhear – but that does not change the lie I gave you. And I will not go in with my hand upon your shoulder and yours on mine, if tomorrow I am to be hanged for aiding in the escape of a murderer and a deserter.”

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar shook his head and smiled all of a sudden.

"No one's going to get hanged master Thornden. I don't have the power or the will to execute anyone. That's what king does when he needs to."

He laid his hand on Thornden's shoulder. "I told you I have a temper, I thought you had noticed it already... but I have brains too." He was suddenly thinking of his own sons and wondering to himself when would they produce some brains to temper their character.

"Listen to me then. Now, no one else knows you lied to me, right?"

[Folwren]

Thornden's hope lifted. It looked as though Athanar meant to let this slide. Would he really be that fortunate, he wondered?

"I think that is so," Thornden replied to Athanar's question. "It is possible that one of your soldiers or Captain Coenred knows - was it he who told you? - but no one else, so far as I know. I have told no one."

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar looked at Thornden closely and thought then that he was speaking the truth.

"As long as it is not common knowledge - and as long as it stays that way - I have no reason to punish you in public. And what you said about the men of the Mead Hall defending lady Saeryn and all that has made me having second thoughts on my sources of information... I will get the truth of what happened back then, but it is not something I can get into right now, or something that should endanger the integrity of the Mead Hall we seem to be building up, even if ever so slowly."

He pushed Thornden's shoulder lightly and took his hand away from it. "I still don't like the fact that you lied to me, but I'm getting to understand why you did it. If what you say is true I could forgive you also outside the public eye. But that is pending for now..." He took a glance around to see no one was hearing them.

"But like I've said before, I like your frankness and fearlesness. Those are qualities of a good leader. If you serve me with all those qualities I can see budding in you this will be a small matter in the end."

Lord Athanar looked at Thornden with a slight smile. "So how will we enter master Thornden? In good terms or in bad ones?"

[Folwren]

Thornden smiled back, although he still did not understand. For him, it was the principle of the matter that would have decided the issue in his mind, not whether or no other men knew about it. But it had been clear from the very beginning that Athanar thought and acted very differently than he.

“As friends, my lord. You have treated me with unexpected lenience, and I thank you. I am glad that you are willing to see what I have tried to tell you, and I hope that soon, our men will be able to make friends and see eye to eye. But do not bring back up the trouble that the soldiers fought over that first day. Put it behind us all.”

[Nogrod]

"I will put it behind me in time master Thornden..." Athanar said thoughtfully.

"Sometimes justice needs to take the second seat when more pressing matters are at stake. Like you said, let us see the men of Scarburg pull it together. That's what we need, you and me." He smiled now openly.

"We had a rough start, but I think we're progressing" He laid his hand on Thornden's shoulder again. "Now, shall we?" He said and nodded towards the Hall.

[Folwren]

Thornden stood up, but stepped away from Athanar. "You go in, and I will follow just behind. It will be better that way."

Truth be told, he felt it was a little too friendly to enter in the manner Athanar wished to. To clasp another’s shoulder was to him a sign of close friendship and being comfortable in each other’s presence, but at this point, he felt neither for lord Athanar. He was willing to not be enemies, and to even follow Athanar as a lord and master, but not to show a close friendship yet.

I do no think the men will take it amiss. We neither of us are angry, and if we do not appear so, they will assume whatever quarrel we had has been taken care of. My place is to follow you, and so no one will think it wrong that I come after you into the hall. Please, let us go in that way.”

[Nogrod]

Athanar froze with Thornden's words and his eyes narrowed.

"Are you trying to say you turn down my offer?"

Thornden shook his head, exasperated again, but Athanar continued before he could answer.

"Now what is the part you don't understand? If we enter the Hall together in good terms everyone thinks things are okay, like I thought they were. But if we enter separately, there will be problems as people will think we're not in terms together... or is there a problem I don't see? Speak now. I need to know if there is still something you haven't come clean with me."

"There is nothing, sir!" Thornden said. "We will be entering together, just not as though we were perfect friends coming back from a friendly chat. A moment ago, I was leaving expecting to have to defend myself in a fight. We don't need to go back embracing each other!"

Suddenly lord Athanar broke into laughter and pat Thornden on the shoulder. "No we don't," he said smiling "It will take time for us to become perfect friends after all this, but I do hope we can become a good working-pair rather sooner than later... Now, let's get back inside."

[Nogrod]

After they had dealt with the local lords, and Athanar and Thornden had had that not-unobserved incident together, the next day was an odd one. The soldiers felt heightened comradery but there was a rift there as speculation was bubbling as to what the row of their superiors had been about and were there still some issues that were not settled even iof they had re-entered the Hall more or less amiably.

Athanar noticed it and decided to act immediately. So the next day, to a great surprise of all the eorlinga exercising, he rode into the meadow lightly armed like all the other men. After following the various drills for a short while he actually joined them going for the attacking and defending formation-training as one on the line on this or that side – at times advising Coen and Thornden how to lead the exercise, and even taking some time to instruct individual younger soldiers at times to correct the angle of their spear, or to lean differently to the mount when coming near to an impact, or how to anticipate a hit if the opponent’s spear was in a certain angle and so forth.

He was older than the men he commanded and it was clear he was generally not that fast the younger ones were on average, but his positioning and timing made an impression, especially to the former Scarburg men who had not seen him in action before – his own men knew already he had not lost all he was and had as a soldier. And it was easy to see he was enjoying himself.

After they had taken the exercises lord Athanar called everyone to gather in a formation and eyed them with a smile, still breathing heavily after the effort. “Listen men of Scarburg! I hear and see there is some confusion over what happened between me and my seneschal Thornden the day before yesterday. Let me tell you – and Thornden here can confirm what I say”, he glanced at Thornden nodding ever so lightly.

“There is no problem anymore. It was a question of disinformation concerning some events of the day of our arrival. And that has now been cleared. I bear no ill-will for Thornden, or anyone of you…” here he made a pause and eyed the men closely, first narrowing his eyes but then turning to a smile. “A lot of things happened that day – and you all know much of it better than I do. But I say that is now past and behind us, past between you and past with me. We’re the men of Scarburg and we have a lot to do and we must not only live together but to work together and stand for each other if needs be. You’re soldiers and you know that. Hail eorlinga!”

The men answered raising their spears and called “Hail eorlinga”.

With that he turned to Thornden and Coen and nodded to implicate he was done and the day’s drill was over.


~*~


The next month was busy time. The winter was coming. It was pushing it’s advance week by week and everyone worked full steam as there was a lot to accomplish. The loads of building materials and equipment sent by king Eomer proved invaluable, and with the great number of men the Mead Hall now boasted the pace of the work advancing was considerable.

Athanar relied on the resident professionals with overseeing the work done as he had not brought any smiths, masons or carpenters with him having been told by the king there were enough of quality-craftsmen there already. But he did have this and that to say about many general designs. Sometimes his plans were met with approval by Garstan, Stigend and Harreld, but not all of them.

For example he insisted in building another spacious room upstairs to the wing where the rooms he and Wynflaed lived, for any upcoming noble visitors. Garstan and Stigend thought it unnecessary looking at the timetable and their supplies, but Athanar kept his head.

Another thing that raised some controversy was building a second floor also on to the long side of the building. The craftsmen thought all rooms for the soldiers and household should be kept on the ground level to make them more accessible but also here lord Athanar kept his mind – and in the end Garstan and Stigend had to admit at least the fact that the great fireplace on the hall - after it was widened under the orders of lord Athanar – did actually also warm the added rooms upstairs.

So in the end of the month there were two storeys of rooms on the long side of the building: the common soldiers and some of the household living on the ground floor and then officers, older soldiers and craftsmen’s families living on the upper floor. On the upper floor there were a few guestrooms for occasional visitors, and on the lower floor a few more to more common visitors. On the short end of the building there was the kitchen and the apartments of the cooks beside it on the ground level; on the upper floor were the rooms of Athanar and his household, Saeryn, Degas and others of any rank plus the empty room for any really high-end guests.

The most important thing though was that when the first days of freezing came upon them all the Scarburgians were under a roof and in relative warmth – and so were their animals. The stables had been enlargened a bit to hold room for some more horses they had –thus far it had been overcrowded in there. Also they had built a small barnhouse to bring in the pigs, chicken and the few heads of cattle they had, the new ones received from the local lords as part of the payment. The lambs were a problem but even they had a light shed and the plan was they should be accommodated the next into a more convenient structure – maybe moving some or all of the chicken with them to free room from the barn.

The kitchen was also working now having two solid fireplaces and a finished oven instead of the intermediate structures a month ago. And the well had been given a steadier lifting-structure so that one could lift more water with lesser effort… the advantages of more permanent structures.

There was lot to do and to finish, but Scarburg Mead Hall was ready to face the winter.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

It was morning and Hilderinc was standing in the courtyard next to his horse, fully clad in armor, and the bright sun was rising from above the forest near Scarburg. Lord Athanar was standing in the saddle, along with Thornden to his left hand and Falco, clad in chainmail, to his right side. Lord Athanar was speaking for a long time and explaining the need to make the local landlords acknowledge the King's rule, and that today the time has come to show them the proper authority. Then everybody mounted their horses, but it was at that point when Hilderinc realised that he had forgotten his sword somewhere. He was feeling really embarassed, but there wasn't time to look for the weapon, because Thornden was calling them to go, and they rode out, followed by laden carts, carrying lord Athanar's personal belongings, because, as Hilderinc remembered, they were moving from Scarburg to lord Friduhelm's hold.

"It will be more comfortable there," Hilderinc said aloud, and suddenly they were descending some steep slope towards Friduhelm's hall, which looked like a small fortress. All the way, Hilderinc had been thinking that he had something important to tell to Coen, something concerning Thornden or maybe Falco, but he couldn't find him anywhere. He was beginning to wonder whether lord Athanar had exchanged Coen for Falco as his new captain, but then suddenly lord Friduhelm came out of the building, surrounded by guards, and openly challenged Athanar.

"You have no right to come to my doorstep!" he yelled. "If you want war, this is what you will get, and I won't stop until either of us is driven beyond Isen!"

Then Hilderinc realised that this was what he had been fearing, that now a great war will engulf the Mark, until either Athanar or Friduhelm are dead. That is terrible, he was thinking, and just yesterday they were like brothers to each other! And now he also realised with pain that he was still lacking his sword, and how was he supposed to fight without it?

He started looking around desperately, when suddenly Wulfric emerged from a nearby barn with a flower in his hair, carrying Hilderinc's sword.

"Here you go," he said.

"Thank you," Hilderinc muttered, wondering why Wulfric hid his sword in Friduhelm's barn. But there was no time to deliberate, because Friduhelm's men were already moving forward, surrounding Athanar's soldiers, and Hilderinc had to join the fight. Strange soldiers were attacking him from the right and left, and suddenly, he saw Falco among them, man-sized and accompanying Friduhelm. Hilderinc turned his sword against him and started chasing the big hobbit across the battlefield.

Then, a noise of steps, movement and muffled voices woke him up. Next to him, Baldwic was getting up, and other soldiers were also awakening. It was again morning in Scarburg and faint light could be seen coming in from the outside. Hilderinc rubbed his eyes and was gazing for a while at the wooden ceiling. Then he slowly got up as well. Before he got dressed, washed himself and went to have some breakfast, he had completely forgotten about the dream he had, nor had he remembered it in the following weeks, nor had a dream like this come to him any more during his nights in Scarburg in the following weeks.

[littlemanpoet]

They let the horses have their heads. The trip could be made at a gallop in six hours, or at a walk in maybe fourteen. They had covered most of the journey from Edoras to Scarburg the previous day, and had sought refuge with one of the landholders overnight, an old man by the name of Friduhelm, whose son seemed not at all pleased with his father's hospitality to the three visitors, but Eodwine didn't let that bother him.

Winter birds were singing in the cold morning air. "Let it be a walk," Eodwine thought. He was eager to see Saeryn and the others, but it was not a meeting that had to be hurried to. Falco and Rowenna were with him, wrapped in cloaks and furs against the cold. He had allowed them to do most of the talking. Which meant Falco, for the most part. It allowed Eodwine to reflect back on his words with King Eomer.

"I will have you know, Eodwine,” the king had said, “that since every word from our healers and from those at Mundburg were that you were not likely to live, it was needful to have a new eorl in Scarburg who would be there to the end of his days. Do you remember Athanar?"

Eodwine had been taken aback, but saw the king's point. "Yes, I do. He is a good man; headstrong, but good."
The king smiled. "He is the new eorl. Will you return to Scarburg to stay, as a freeman holding Athanar as your eorl, or would you go elsewhere with your new wife?"
"I do have lands in Westfold I could rebuild on, but I think I need time, and I would not make Saeryn travel while she is with child. If Athanar is the eorl, and I am to be at Scarburg, I will pledge my sword and duty to him as long as I am there. Does that satisfy the king's curiosity?"

"Aye, it does," the king had replied. "Help him, Eodwine. He will need it. The Middle Emnet has fallen to lawlessness and wilfullness among its Eorling landholders. Your counsel is wise, and he will be glad of it, and I will be glad of your presence there. And care for your wife."

"I will do as you ask, my lord." It wasn't really much to ask, he supposed.

Eodwine had also paid a visit to Garreth the Smith, only to find that he had sold the place off to another, and had left for Scarburg only two weeks before. So Harreld had prevailed upon him to join them at Scarburg. Interesting. Was there enough for two smiths there now? Maybe Athanar had brought that many men with him. It was more food for thought.

Eventually, they turned one last corner and Scarburg came in sight. It was hard to tell from a distance how much it had changed. “We shall have a look see,” Eodwine murmured.

[Folwren]

Since the messenger had come the previous day bringing word from Edoras that Eodwine was coming, everyone at Scarburg had been working hard to prepare the Hall for his homecoming. The news had caused a reaction much like a stick in an anthill.

Everything had calmed and settled since Athanar's arrival at Scarburg. Distrust and disagreement had died down or been smoothed over. The news of Eodwine's immediate return, however, brought hidden feelings back to the surface. New doubts and questions came into some people's minds. Would Eodwine take his old place as Eorl? If he did, would Athanar go back to Edoras? If he did not, what would Eodwine do? Would he and Saeryn go to Edoras, perhaps? They could not have two eorls at Scarburg, and the men who had served Eodwine and known him as lord still considered him their leader.

Saeryn was oblivious to these feelings in the men. Her thoughts were wholly on making the place as much like home as she could, and on how eager she was to see him again. She had recieved his letter nearly a month ago, telling her that he had woken and was mending and intended to return. Falco had gone to him in Minas Tirith, but since then, she had not heard from him and she had no idea that he was back in the Mark, much less in Edoras and on his way home.

And so when the day of his arrival dawned, Saeryn was already out of bed and at work. She could not be still. Most of the work had been done the previous day already, but she still found things to put her hand to. Kara and Fordides begged her to sit down and rest, but she put them off until there was absolutely nothing left to be done.

"I shall ride out to meet him," she announced.

"You cannot ride out to meet him!" Fordides objected. "A woman in your state does not ride out to meet anybody."

Kara looked at her and tried to convince her more gently. "Eodwine would not wish it, Saeryn. You should not go out in this weather on a horse."

Saeryn smiled a little at them, but did not answer either one of them. After a few moments, when the conversation had turned and Kara and Fordides were discussing something between themselves, Saeryn slipped out. She wrapped herself warmly before going out to the stables and finding her horse. She avoided Leof as she fetched the animal and took him out to saddle and bridle him.

With a little difficulty, but not much, she succeeded in hefting the saddle up onto the horse's back and then cinching him up herself. Mounting was another obstacle she had no considered with her swollen belly, but this, too, she overcame by finding a bucket to give her extra height to mount him from. She swung up into the saddle and breathed a sigh both of relief and excitement. It had been three months since she had last ridden, and she loved to be back on her horse again.

She only had a moment to reflect on this when she heard Leof entering the stables. Quickly, she gathered her reins and urged her horse into a walk, and then a trot, and she exited the place before Leof could protest or try to stop her.

They were out in the cold winter air. It stung her cheeks and her eyes, but it filled her with life and excitement. Her horse lifted his head and whinnied, his breath clouding before his nostrils, and then they went off at a brisk trot up the sloping hill away from Scarburg and towards the road, and towards Eodwine.

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar was having an early breakfast for the day in the Hall when Modtryth suddenly broke in from the kitchen.

"Sir, lord, excuse me..." She began clearly agitated by something.

Lord Athanar looked at her displeased for interrupting his thoughts. But it was done now anyway.

"So what is it Modryth?" he said, glancing at her and biting on his bread.

"My lord, I'm afraid lady Saeryn is doing something she shouldn't do... I overheard her in the kitchen... and saw her slip away from there."

Athanar was confused for a moment as to what Modtryth was talking about, but after seeing the recognisable figure of Leof running in the yard in exasperation through the grey-stained window by the door he suddenly realised what Modtryth was trying to tell him.

"The child!" Modtryth cried at the very same moment Athanar sprang up from his chair.

The few men sitting in the Hall were staring at the two while Athanar scanned around to see anyone he could send after her immediately. And his eyes found Hilderinc from the back of the hall.

"Hilderinc, ride after lady Saeryn, towards Edoras, and make her stop this folly! A miscarried child to a man who almost died and would be here today?" He shook his head. "Ride now!"

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc had just stuffed his mouth with an egg yolk when the commotion started. It became clear to him in a hearbeat that something had gone terribly wrong. He gulped fast, and when Athanar sprang up and called him, he was immediately up too. Few of the other bewildered soldiers were still looking around as to what was going on, but Hilderinc was already running out of the door after shouting promptly "Yes, sir!" and spitting the remains of the egg from in between his teeth all over the table.

The cold air outside almost smashed him into the face, if such a thing was possible. Unhappily, he was forced to realise that he had not taken his fur cloak with him, but only much lighter clothes he had been wearing at the Hall, not thinking that he won't have time to fetch more of his stuff before leaving the warmth of the building. There was no time for going back, however, that much he knew. Order was an order and the circumstances were not really favourable – there was obviously far much more at stake than him catching a cold. Hopefully, he thought, I left a spare fur cloak somewhere in the saddlebags.

The good chestnut horse from Edoras, who had managed to grow rather fond of Hilderinc in the last month – and vice versa – was waiting for him, but much to his dismay, the soldier found out that there were no spare winter clothes in the saddlebags, nor anything which he could borrow left behind in any nearby place in the stables. Cursing the young "stablemaster" - as he had not ceased to call Léof even in a month – for his undue tidiness, he rode out into the chilly late autumn morning.

The road downhill was easy enough to ride, and soon Hilderinc pushed his stallion to full speed. His hands on the reins were freezing, and much more could be said about his uncovered head, but he had no time to worry about that now. He hoped that the lady had not gone too far, and he was putting his hopes on the fact that Saeryn would not drive her horse in full speed. That, he thought, would actually be the worst thing she should do... and I may very well be late. He had not fully realised it, but he was in fact frightened, and terrified at the very thought.

Riding past a clump of trees, another view opened in front of him and he suddenly saw a lonely horse with a rider trotting down somewhere in front of him, not too far, but still quite well ahead. She was now in the lowest point of the road nearby, whereas further on, the road climbed up with the scar on its right side, and following it with his eyes, Hilderinc noticed a few small black shapes appearing atop the hill; from her position, she probably could not see them yet. He did not slow down, but hurried down the road; it briefly crossed his mind that if the wet ground was frozen in the cold morning and either of the horses managed to slip on it... he didn't want to imagine.

There could be no doubt the black shapes on top of the hill were people on horses, but now also it was obvious that he was catching up on Saeryn; soon she will notice him, if she hadn't already. Hilderinc did not want to startle her, but then again, he wanted her to stop, if possible. He gave out first a rather inarticulate cry as he was diving down the road, and then forced himself to give it a clearer form.

"My lady!" he shouted. "Lady Saeryn!" While at the same moment a different thought was crossing his mind: Stupid women, he thought. Stupid women...

[Folwren]

“My lady!”

She heard the hale behind her, but her eyes were on the road ahead. She did not want to turn, to acknowledge that call.

“Lady Saeryn!”

Poor man sounded desperate. But Saeryn was desperate, too. She trained her eyes upward to the top of the hill and then turned and looked over her shoulder. It was Hilderinc. He was probably sent with an order. She looked forward again and began to draw her rein.

But then, over the crest of the hill, she saw riders coming. Against the pale blue sky, they were just dark silhouettes without recognizable features, but Saeryn knew them almost at once. The one on the right was only small enough to be a hobbit, and the one on the left was a woman. Eodwine rode in the center. She could not mistake him.

She forgot about Hilderinc behind her. She forgot about the child within her. She forgot everything except for Eodwine as she dug her heels into her horse’s side and bent over his neck. He sprang forward eagerly, taking the hill with powerful strides, galloping up towards her dear, beloved husband.

[littlemanpoet]

She kept a careful eye on Eodwine, and had asked Falco to do the same. Not without reason. She thought back to the king's words. He had pulled her aside.

"Lady Rowenna, Eodwine is not yet well, and the trip from Mundburg to Meduseld has been harder on him than he would admit. Keep an eye on him, mayhap both eyes."

She had given her word, and was glad that Eodwine had decided to make but a slow way from Edoras. She looked at him now, within sight of Scarburg, and saw that he was pale, and sweating at the brow despite the cold. Her brow furrowed and she exchanged glances with Falco Boffin. He looked worried also.

They crested the last hill and heard someone far off calling out a name, desperation in his voice. She recognized the name: Lady Saeryn, and looked. There was her friend on horseback, pushing her mount to a gallop up the hill.

"Lord, it is your wife!" she said. "She should not-"

"I know. Do not call me lord. She should not. He raised his hand in a gesture meant to tell her to slow down, but she seemed to only come faster, as if she took it for recognition and greeting.

Eodwine

There was a reason he was taking a slow pace. He felt weak, unwell. He did his best to act as if all was well - he did not want Falco or Rowenna to worry - but his whole body felt full of ache. Maybe it had been too soon to leave the Houses of Healing. But done was done, and here came Saeryn galloping toward them. He raised his hand to try to slow her down, but felt too weary to speak, and his hand dropped, shakily to his side.

Saeryn slowed now, having come near. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks rosy, excitement and love were written in her expression. It was indeed good to see her, very good. Eodwine stopped his horse and sat up as straight as he could manage in his weariness. He forced a smile.

"Saeryn. It is good to see you." It seemed a formal greeting in its words once they were out of his mouth, but his tone bespoke his heart, and her features softened. She came near, words of happy greeting on her lips, but they stopped; for she saw his face, and her brow furrowed in care.

Suddenly the world began to spin, the earth and sky trading places. He could feel himself begin to slip from the saddle.

[Folwren]

Saeryn reached out and grasped Eodwine’s arm. She steadied him as best she could in saddle. He bent forward over the saddle bow, limp and weak.

“Eodwine! Eodwine, are you still sick?” Saeryn cried. She held him first with one hand, and then she released her horse’s reins and reached out with both hands, trying hard to keep him secure in his saddle. He was slipping away, slowing going over his horse’s far shoulder.

From the corner of her eye, Saeryn saw Rowenna swing down from her horse and hurry over to Eodwine’s side. Together, and with some effort put for from Eodwine, they lowered him to the ground. When Saeryn could no longer help, she dismounted hastily, though neither swiftly nor very gracefully, and hurried around Eodwine’s horse and knelt beside her husband. He sat on the ground, half leaning on Rowenna as she knelt on one knee between him and his horse’s feet. Saeryn took his hand.

“Eodwine, why are you riding while you are unwell?”

Eodwine raised his head slowly and looked up at Saeryn with a wan smile. "I wasn't unwell when I left Mundburg. At least I thought not. Maybe I was too hasty to see you. But no, there is no such thing as haste when it comes to closing the distance between us.” He raised his hand and touched her face. "Saeryn, my love, I have missed you." His eyes glistened.

It broke Saeryn's heart to hear him and see his tears. She longed to take him in her arms and just hold him, but there were too many people about. Rowenna sat just by, and Hilderinc was just now trotting up to them. She stood up, letting go of Eodwine’s hand.

“Hilderinc,” she said. “Held lord Eodwine back on his horse. Ride behind him to keep him steady. I will take your horse back with mine.”

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

As Saeryn heard Hilderinc's call, he saw her slowing down. With a sigh of relief, he let go and galloped – still with considerable speed, but not with such a deadly one as before – down towards her. It took only a few yards, however, until suddenly Saeryn's horse broke into a gallop again.

Hilderinc cursed under his breath, he was infuriated. Such a thing happened very rarely to him, he wasn't of the kind to get easily agitated, but this time it was so. What new devilry is this? it crossed his mind. Then he looked on top of the hill. She must have seen the incoming riders, too. At the same time, he sped up again, desperate with the effort.

He arrived to the meeting point only shortly after Saeryn. Now he felt stupid. Eodwine and Saeryn were greeting each other, as if nothing special was happening, as if he had ridden this terrible way without cloak with freezing hands and face for naught. Better safe than sorry, it occured to him, but it did not give too much comfort. The fact that he saw Falco riding by Eodwine's side did not add much to his happiness. For some reason, even now the sight of the holbytla seemed instinctively somewhat like an ill omen to him, even though consciously maybe he got to know Falco as rather normal fellow.

As Hilderinc was trying to catch his breath – he felt almost as exhausted as his horse must have felt - he looked at Eodwine with curiosity. So this is the man for whom there's been all the trouble, he thought, remembering all the things that have happened during the previous month, grumbling of Athanar's soldiers about having to move to the middle of nowhere, the clashes between them and over-loyal old Scarburgians and the worries about his illness he had heard from them. Eodwine looked to him like a charismatic type, even though the traces of his illness were still visible in his face; his movements were somewhat weary. Now that Hilderinc was thinking about it, Eodwine seemed vaguely familiar to him – it wasn't unimaginable that he could have seen him somewhere during the years of his service.

There was another rider coming with Eodwine and Falco, and when Hilderinc saw her, he immediately straightened himself in the saddle. It was a young and rather beautiful woman, even though wrapped in a traveling cloak, and Hilderinc caught himself smoothing his ruffled hair. He had no time to further improve his appearance, however, since suddenly Eodwine started slipping from his saddle. Faster than he thought he would be able to, Hilderinc spurred his horse to get to Saeryn's side, even though his heart again almost stopped at the sight of her catching her falling husband.

"Hilderinc, held lord Eodwine back on his horse. Ride behind him to keep him steady. I will take your horse back with mine."

Hilderinc was once again infuriated at the words. As if she was the one to talk about riding in hazardous conditions. However, he did as he was commanded, and he did not let face show any emotion. Feeling the looks of everyone at himself, including the other woman, he acted as if it took him no effort to help Eodwine to the saddle, and then he mounted as well.

"Only you should not have ridden here in your condition, my lady," he spoke towards Saeryn as he had positioned himself on the horse. "Lord Athanar was worried about you. Now you saw that your husband is not well, perhaps you should also be careful when getting back to the Hall." A thought even crossed his mind about asking Saeryn to wait there until he would bring Eodwine to the Hall and then return for her possibly with someone or even with a cart so that she does not have to ride, but it was obvious to him after what he saw that she won't just wait. So he remained silent and only cast a beseeching look at Falco, hoping that if something happened, the holbytla will see to Saeryn not doing anything stupid. In any case, now Hilderinc intended to ride back slowly, despite the biting cold, and thus force also Saeryn to ride slowly, as he hoped that she would want to remain close to her husband.

And so I seem to have found myself with a bunch of people who should, above all, have rest. Both her and him, it seems, he thought. And then a very, very old memory sprang to his mind: Lovers can be driven to do the most irrational things. He chased the thought away.

[Folwren]

Hilderinc obeyed Saeryn’s request without a word. Saeryn and Rowenna stood by, their hands hovering about Eodwine until he was safely in the saddle. Rowenna held the horse’s head while Hilderinc mounted up behind Eodwine and took the reins.

“Only you should not have ridden here in your condition, Saeryn,” he said. Saeryn, who had turned away to go back to her horse, stopped in her tracks and turned slowly about to face him. He looked directly at her. “Lord Athanar was worried about you. Now you saw that your husband is not well, perhaps you should also be careful when getting back to the hall.”

“Mind your tongue, soldier. Neither you nor he has any right to say when or where I can ride. My condition is my own concern, and I’d thank you to make no comment on it. And it is in my right to come and meet my husband, especially as he is unwell.”

She turned away without waiting for a reply. “Rowenna, can you help me on to my horse, and then bring Hilderinc’s horse to me so I can lead him?”

[littlemanpoet]

"Of course, Lady Saeryn," Rowenna replied.

She had seen the careful glances of this Hilderinc had been sending her way, and smiled inside. Typical man. He probably thought that she did not notice him sit straighter in the saddle, or speak so boldly to Saeryn just as much for her own benefit as for Saeryn's.

This Hilderinc seemed to be somewhat older than she, and he probably did not know that she was born of higher station than a soldier. He would probably be surprised to find out what kind of mettle she had gained in the last three years. It had changed her way of thinking about everything, especially men. Still, he did not appear a bad sort, for all that. And she guessed that he was not a mere soldier at arms.

But Eodwine and Saeryn needed her attention.

"Falco, be a good Hobbit and keep your friend awake in the saddle if you can, with all your talk."

"I will do that, Lady Rowenna," he replied. "Mind you, I would have given aid had it been asked of me, but you Big People take up too much space and are quick to think we are of little use. Eodwine, my friend, I hope that your time in the Shire taught you differently and you can help me teach these Eorlings a thing or two about how to treat a Hobbit properly?"

Eodwine chuckled weakly. "In time, my friend, in time."

Rowenna allowed a smile to come to her lips. Falco had been a good companion, and she was sure he knew her better than his words suggested. He cared very much about his friend, and she appreciated him the more for that. Let him say what he would. Slowly they made their way into Scarburg.

[Firefoot]

No sooner had Léof returned to the stables after a hearty breakfast than he heard the whinny of a horse outside. Surely Eodwine could not be here already? But he felt hopeful nevertheless, and went to check.

No one was approaching, but someone was trotting off up the road. For a moment, Léof thought nothing of it, until he recognized the horse and rider with a start. Lady Saeryn! But what did she think she was doing? And how had she managed to saddle and mount the horse all on her own? Had Léof thought about it at all, he might have realized that his belief in the fragility and helplessness of pregnant women was utterly at odds with Saeryn’s daily behavior. He did not think of it, however, and thus his immediate conclusion was that she must be in need of help (perhaps even rescue), for regardless of how capable she might be, she was surely crazy.

He hesitated, frozen with indecision. Ought he to tell someone? There was no time! She might already be in some sort of danger by then. Just as he made up his mind to rush after her himself, however, Hilderinc rode out of the stables, passing Léof without noticing him. Hilderinc quickly pushed his horse to a faster pace, and Léof realized that someone else must have noticed Saeryn leave and raised the alarm. Well then. It would do no good for him to ride out as well; by the time he got Æthel saddled up, she would be worlds ahead of him. He looked out at her retreating silhouette again – was she really galloping that horse!? Though Léof had no doubts of Saeryn’s riding ability, he was now more convinced than ever that her pregnancy had addled her wits, and here he was left to wait and fret over her safety and that of her horse. Thankfully, the road was a good one; unless she left it for some reason (a reason that only a pregnant woman might think sane), the horse was extremely unlikely to step in any holes.

[Durelin]

Coen joined his men at table in the hall. They were all beginning to seem like his men, but he was afraid that would soon change. With Eodwine’s return, how would they feel about a Captain loyal to the ‘new’ lord? It would be as if Athanar had just arrived, all over again. The way people had carried on when Eodwine was sick so many leagues away in Gondor…how much worse would they be now that their golden man was back?

It didn’t matter what kind of man Eodwine was. Obviously he was the kind who encouraged loyalty from his people. And did he have a loyalty to them and this hall that he would feel he had to be lord? Would he see Athanar as a usurper, a strong-handed new lord who was abusing his dear people? Coen could see Thornden telling Eodwine his story of what had happened since Lord Athanar’s arrival. He would spin the tale of poor Erbrand and Lithor who suffered injustice at Athanar’s hands.

Coen looked over the soldiers, eyeing them all for whatever he could observe about their thoughts. There was a strange feel about the Hall in general. “Where’s Hilderinc?” he asked, noticing him missing.

“Chasing after the Lady Saeryn at the lord’s order. She apparently rode out, with child and all.”

Coen’s brow creased in a combination of confusion and consternation. He looked around the hall, looking toward Lord Athanar’s seat at the high table, but he was not there. Was he preparing to greet Eodwine? Perhaps he should have sought his lord out to help prepare whatever welcome Athanar thought was suitable; or he should get the men looking more presentable… But he wanted nothing to do with this.

[Folwren]

Falco rode ahead on his pony into Scarburg, but Saeryn stayed close by Eodwine’s horse, pulling Hilerinc’s horse by the bridle rein. By the time they arrived, Falco was already dismounted from his pony, speaking to Léof. When they came into sight, Léof immediately came away from Falco and hurried over the meet them.

“Léof, hold Eodwine’s horse,” Saeryn said. Léof went and held the horse’s bridle. By the time Hilderinc had dismounted, Saeryn already was off her horse and leading nearer the two animals in her charge. She watched in painful anticipation while Hilderinc carefully helped Eodwine down from the horse and then supported him once he stood.

“Quickly, take these horses,” she said hastily. She handed them off and then went swiftly to Eodwine’s side and slipped her shoulders under his arm to give him support. “Lean on me, Eodwine,” she said. “Do you remember when I returned to Scarburg? I was sick, too.” She smiled up at him. “You were able to heal me then. Now it is my turn to help you.”

[Lhunardawen]

"He's back! Lord Eodwine's here!" Kara screamed as she sprinted into the kitchen as fast as the tray full of dirty plates she carried allowed her. Frodides looked up from the pile of potatoes on her chopping board. "Oh!" she exclaimed, putting down her knife and wiping her hands on her apron. She walked around the table towards Kara. "How is he? Does he need to eat? And Saeryn? Is she well?"

"She's well, but he doesn't seem so. I will go back outside to ask if he wants some food. And Frodides, he did not come alone. Rowenna is with him."

"Rowenna, eh? That's good, I could use another pair of hands here. Now off you go and tell me if I need to prepare food for one or two."

As Kara hurried back outside Frodides returned to her work, muttering as she went. "That Saeryn! I hope her child does not grow up to be as stubborn as she!"

All the while, Ginna stood in front of her dough, kneading it as though it was the only thing that mattered. She had asked Saeryn to teach her how to bake a few weeks ago and unexpectedly learned it quickly. Her baking passed Frodides's standards and the task was delegated to her. It gave her something else to busy herself with. A reason to stay in the kitchen more. To go out into the hall less.

Thankfully Kara and Modtryth did not mind. Besides, Saeryn could not be stopped from helping them, but now her husband had returned. That would be where Rowenna stepped in.

"Ginna?" Frodides's voice penetrated her thoughts. "You are silent. Are you not glad of the lord's return?"

The girl smiled. "Of course I am. But I am worried about him, and Saeryn too. And Frodides," she added, lowering her voice, "I do not think it would be wise to call him lord in Athanar's or his followers' hearing. He is no longer the lord of Scarburg."

"You are right. I do not know if I can ever unlearn the habit. But I think we are safe from anyone else's hearing here in the kitchen."

Ginna smiled again. The silence returned. She focused on the movement of her hands, on the dough stretching between her fingers. Because if she did not, she would think about how she could not ask Eodwine for help when he had more pressing matters to attend to, the foremost being his own health.

[littlemanpoet]

“Lean on me, Eodwine,” Saeryn said. “Do you remember when I returned to Scarburg? I was sick, too.” She smiled up at him. “You were able to heal me then. Now it is my turn to help you.”

He felt weak and was grateful of the support she was giving him. She was leading him to a two storied building that he did not remember from before.

"Hold," he said. They stopped. He looked long at his surroundings. "Much as changed," he said, "for the better."

"If you mean the hall, yes, it is a good one," Saeryn replied. "Now come, we need to get some food and drink in you. To the kitchens."

They started walking again. "Is Lord Athanar in the kitchens?"

"He will be in his rooms unless he has come down to break his fast," she said.

"Take me to him, Saeryn, first."

"You are weak. You need food and drink."

"Take me to Lord Athanar, Saeryn. Falco? Where are you? Falco!" Eodwine looked around and saw the Hobbit. "Falco! Get me my sword! I have need of it!"

"Eodwine, are you sure you want a sword? A soup ladel and ale cup might be more to your liking," the Hobbit said.

"No! My sword! I need my sword! I need to see Lord Athanar. Now!" He was shaking in Saeryn's grip, and felt weaker than ever, but was determined.

[Folwren]

Saeryn could feel Eodwine’s body tremble with the exertion that it took to walk even with her help. She laid her hand on his breast and stopped him, looking up earnestly in his face. She had pressured him once, and he said no, and his reply was the same to Falco. But she was convinced that both she and Falco were right. Formalities were all very well and good to those in health, but he was cold, tired, and hungry. This was his home. Let him go and sit in warmth and eat and then go to bed and meet Athanar later.

“Eodwine,” she said, speaking gently. “Please come in first and rest and then go and meet him. I will go to him myself after you are inside and tell him you are here and need your rest first and then you can meet him later when you are more prepared.”

Eodwine sighed. He could feel the cold sweat sliding down his face. "My dear Saeryn, I know you mean the best. This is not mere formality. Now is the only good time to do what must be done." He looked her straight in the eyes. "Do not hinder me in this!"

Saeryn nodded, but she was unhappy with the decision. It would be better now to give in than to vex him further by refusing. So she turned and went towards the hall. Half way to the door, Falco met them with Eodwine’s sword. They paused, and with help, Eodwine buckled it about his waist before going on. Hilderinc ran ahead and opened the door for them and then entered the hall ahead of them and told the gathered company that Eodwine had arrived. A moment later, Saeryn and Eodwine entered.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine looked around. It was darker inside than out. He peered into the relative gloom until his eyes adjusted.

"Hilderinc, I have a message for Lord Athanar from the king." He could hear the wavering in his own voice. It was distressing, but he was determined to see this through. "Please lead us to him."

Hilderinc nodded. "This way. Follow me."

"Saeryn," Eodwine asked, in a low voice, "is Lord Athanar right handed or left handed?"

[Folwren]

“Sareyn,” Eodwine asked, “is Athanar right-handed or left-handed?”

Saeryn’s face was a picture of consternation and confusion. Eodwine shouldn’t even be going to meet Athanar, why was he concerned which hand Athanar preferred?

“I. . .uh. . .right handed,” she said. Instead of asking why that was important now, she whispered, “You will not take long giving your message?”

They were close to Athanar now, and the eorl was coming forward to meet them and Saeryn realized they were too near for Eodwine to answer her.

[littlemanpoet]

Lord Athanar approached, a quizzical expression on his face. Eodwine and Saeryn stopped. He pulled himself from Saeryn's hold and stood shakily without assistance.

"I greet you, Lord Athanar," Eodwine said before the other could speak. "I have a message from King Eomer." He drew his sword and watched Athanar's right hand dart to his own. Before the eorl could take any further action, Eodwine dropped to one knee and crossed the hilts to his own left, and held the blade up in the palms of his hands before Athanar, whose hand slipped from his own sword hilt.

"My message from the king is this: "Athanar, I am sending Eodwine to you for your aid. He will be of some help to you. Use him well." Thus spoke Lord Eomer. For myself I say this. I offer you my sword and my aid as long as you will have me. I shall hold you as lord if and until you or the king frees me."

Athanar stood there and stared, tilting his head in consideration.

"Please take the sword, sir," Eodwine smiled. "'tis getting heavy and I am tired." His limbs and hands shook, but he was determined to hold the sword high until Athanar took it. After that, let come what may.

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar was confused to see Eodwine kneeling and making his pledge. It took him a moment to adjust himself to the situation - and he was not sure if he got it in it's entirety. He hated all the scheming of the court and the plots of the lords outwitting each other; he preferred straight talk and straight action, if possible on horseback with fresh wind in his face and his men behind him. And he thought he knew lord Eodwine was in that respect similar to him even if they weren't that alike in some other respects. But this theatrics? He was unsure what to make of it. Even if he disliked scheming he had seen enough of it to know when to be alarmed.

But seeing Eodwine shaking still feeble from his illness, and smiling at the same time cut him fast back to the here and now where he had to act.

He took the sword and returned the smile - nodding to Eodwine for him to rise up. Backing it with his words. "Please lord Eodwine, please stand up."

Looking at the effort Eodwine had to give for rising up he laid the sword on the table and offered him his other arm while Saeryn helped him up from the other side.

Facing each other now both standing Athanar laid his hand on Eodwine's shoulder looking him at the eye. "Welcome Eodwine. I do appreciate the king's decision and your offer. We have a lot to talk, not only reminiscing the days of the Great War", here he smiled at Eodwine that odd smile many war-veterans tended to give each other whether they knew each other well or not, it was the brotherhood of all those taking part in the Great War. "But we need to discuss of many things of more close history, the present and the future... later. I see you're tired now and you have many faces to greet".

Athanar took his hand away from Eodwine's shoulder and nodded towards the stairs beside the fireplace behind them. "I had a bit larger and more comfortable room to be built upstairs there where I live with my good lady Wynflaed. I thought it would be handy if we ever got important guests." He paused letting Eodwine get what he was suggesting him.

"Yes", Athanar nodded, "if you accept the offer, I suggest you and Saeryn take that room. We can have men moving both of your's belongings there. We'll still have Saeryn's present room which is a bit smaller but good enough for any guest these roofs would see the coming winter."

[Durelin]

Coen stood when Eodwine entered the hall, and gestured to the men at the table to follow suit. Those who had been in Eodwine’s service before Athanar’s rose proudly. Coen eyed Scyrr and Áforglæd, who looked a little sour, but stood and kept quiet. He caught Feargall’s eye, who gave him a knowing look. He was another steady man, good at keeping balance and order among the men, like Hilderinc. Áforglæd and Scyrr were good men and excellent soldiers, loyal to their lord, but though Scyrr was an experienced soldier, he had rough edges and at times seemed to pick up on some of the youthful hotheadedness of Áforglæd. And it seemed the two were holding on to grudges. Coen could not blame them.

Though Coen was not near, it seemed to him that Eodwine did not look like a man who had recovered his health. Perhaps he had wanted to return to his home too badly. The captain watched Eodwine approach Athanar and…kneel? As any man would offering his service. After all the stubbornness and arrogance of some of the members of the former eorl’s household, Coen had expected an equally arrogant man. Not a man who would kneel before his replacement.

Watching Athanar bring Eodwine back to his feet, Coen considered. Would this gesture silence residual contention? Or would it upset those loyal to him that he had kneeled at Athanar’s feet? At least they could not say it was at anyone’s command. Well, he supposed they could, if they wanted. He hoped this show of duty and humility would remind others of their duty and position. And he hoped that it was not simply a show.

Coen put on a light smile, trying to make a show of optimism and affability himself.

[Folwren]

Eodwine nodded and smiled. "Lord, I thank you for your kind offer. Please allow my wife and me to think it over. I would not have my former retainers thinking that you and I are two eorls in one eorldom who could be played one off the other, and having rooms so closely situated to your own might get them thinking in ways they should not. That is my fear. But my wife and I will think on it and return an answer to you as soon as we may. And maybe I should not be called lord.”

He bowed, leaning on his wife's arm for support, and then turned with her.

Saeryn and Eodwine walked away together. She was mildly surprised as Athanar's generousness and courtesy towards Eodwine. But, then, he had been pleased, had he not, to have Eodwine kneel to him and swear fealty. Anyone would who had come and usurped power and then the rightful lord had come back and proved to be no competition, much less a danger.

They mounted the stairs and finally came to Saeryn’s modest room. It was not large, but it was comfortable. Eodwine sank down on the bed with grateful sigh. Saeryn began to unclasp the heavy cloak from about his throat.

“Eodwine,” she said, her voice quiet and tentative.

“Yes, love?” he replied.

“Why did the king give your title away to Athanar when Athanar had done nothing to deserve it, and you had done nothing to lose it, save becoming ill?”

"'Tis not a matter of desert but of things needful. One might say that King Eomer may or may not deserve to be king, but such has become his role, and I am happy that he holds it well. Besides, my dear, I am just a lowly landowner and farmer who was raised above his place by the good graces of our king. I did the best I could, but I think Lord Athanar takes to it more naturally than I."

Saeryn smiled bitterly. “You do not know him well to say that. If Athanar took the role because he was descended by blood from an eorl, as King Eomer received the throne because he was the heir of King Theoden, then perhaps I would not question the decision our liege has made. You were raised up because you were just a humble landowner and had proved your mettle in battle and Eomer knew your heart, but Athanar is going to stay in your place as eorl even after you have returned because why?”

"There is a word they use in Gondor. We have none quite like it in the Mark. Continuity. There has already been much trouble for these folk. They left Edoras with me. They lived poorly here all summer and fall without a decent hall. Their lord fell sick, seemingly unto death. Another lord was set over them and the folk have had to accept him or leave - Falco has told me of the troubles with Lithor and Erbrand, and of others. To unseat the new lord to make place for the old would be one change too many."

“No one minded living poorly for you,” Saeryn said. “You won their hearts and their loyalty because you were as willing as the next man to do a full day’s work. It would not be a change for you to take your place as lord, Eodwine. It would be going back to normal for all of us. Folk have accepted him because there wasn’t anything else to do. Where do you expect a family like Stigend and Modtryth with their son, or Garstan with his two little ones, to go in the midst of winter? I’m telling you that you could be lord, and it would be right if you were. Athanar knows it. That is why he called you lord Eodwine. Speak to him, Eodwine, and perhaps he will give you your rightful place.”

Eodwine looked at Saeryn a long time after she had finished speaking. There was that fire in her that had won him to her from the start. Had it turned into ambition for their family? He thought of speaking of her condition as a way to calm her down, but knew that it would not do. He sighed.

"The king gives me my place, not Athanar. You know that. I am here because of you and the others who have become part of us. That is unchanged. You and I will be friends to each of them, as always. Give it time. We shall see what comes. There is time. I am hungry and thirsty. Let us go to the kitchens now."

Saeryn looked at him. She still did not agree with his point and she still thought that given the right pressure, the king may change his mind. But now was not the time to discuss it, clearly. Perhaps when Eodwine had eaten and rested he would be more willing to see it her way. So instead of continuing the disagreement, she nodded, and lowered her eyes to the floor in a sign, if not of submission, then at least of resignation. She took Eodwine’s hand and helped him up and then together they went down to the kitchen to greet the women folk there and get some breakfast for Eodwine.

As they entered the kitchen, Saeryn stepped before Eodwine and announced his arrival. "Ladies. Your eorl has returned."

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine's face went red and his hand rose, open, as if he were ready to strike his wife. It was a short moment, but seemed long as his hand was lifted, poised but still. He lowered his hand slowly and turned to the women.

"I greet you all, but not as your eorl. Forgive my willful wife."

He stumbled toward a chair and fell into it, leaning across the table on both elbows. "I need some vittles."

[Folwren]

Saeryn stood rooted just inside the door. She scarcely could have been more shocked if Eodwine had indeed struck her. She felt her temper rising as she stood contemplating his back while he sat at the table. Kara silently served Eodwine some breakfast. He began to eat, ignoring the silence of the women around him.

Forgive my willful wife, he had said of her, as though she were a child, who’s behavior must be excused if not punished. She seethed inwardly, and her hands curled into fists. Her eyes darted to each of the women in turn. Ginna was looking at her, but when their eyes met, she looked away again.

Then Saeryn knew that whatever she had to say to Eodwine had to be said in the privacy of their own room. Were she to tell him her mind now, she would appear like a stubborn, quarrelsome woman, and her standing, already wounded in the sight and hearing of these women, would go further down.

She turned, and left the kitchen, and as she went back to the room from where they had just come, hot, angry tears began to flow.

“What is the matter with him? Can he not see that I am right? How could he treat me so?”

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar came out from his chambers after some eyeing on the plans for the last renovation of how the plans should be executed for the winter. They were really in a hurry with them, but now he had solved one of the the problems of warming the soldier's quarters farthest away from the hearth - and he was happy about it.

But stepping out from his door he met Saerynn sobbing in the corridor hastenig her way to her apartment. Lord Athanar had seen pregnant women more he could count, and this upset didn't look like one due only to the pregnancy.

"Lady Saeryn, is there something wrong?", he asked carefully while Saeryn was opening the door to her room. "Anything I can do for you?"

[Folwren]

Saeryn stopped short in the doorway at the sound of Athanar’s query. She turned her head and looked at him. Here was the man who caused all the controversy between her and her husband. Here was the man who took what was rightfully theirs and held it. Her tears stopped and her eyes were like ice.

“You should not have let Eodwine swear his fealty to you,” she said in a low voice. “Eodwine is rightful eorl here, even if he will not rise up and take his place. I will do what I can to ensure that he is returned to his proper place. Wait and see if I do not.”

And without waiting for response, she stepped inside her room and shut the door behind herself.

[littlemanpoet]

Ginna could see that Eodwine was not well. Neither was Saeryn, but beyond the physical. She tried to catch her eye and did so, but Saeryn quickly turned away and left. Whatever the matter was, it was clearly between husband and wife, not something to be shared with the kitchen wench.

The tension hanging in the kitchen was almost tangible. For a long while no one could say anything. This was not how Ginna imagined the women to welcome the eorl - nay, no longer the eorl, but she knew they all felt the same: Eodwine was still their lord. Perhaps that was why they did not know how to speak with him. How should they address the man who, for so long, held authority over them, but now is practically their equal?

Eodwine focused on his meal, unmindful of the women exchanging pointed glances at each other. They were all aware, however, that it would be most uncharacteristic of the cook to hold her tongue in his presence. For once Frodides seemed not at all eager for speech. But as she opened her mouth to speak, Eodwine broke the silence.

~*~

Eodwine ate and drank in silence, still shaking from the residual anger at Saeryn's words, as well as from the weakness of travel. It was not lost on him that she had turned on her heels and stormed out of the room. He sighed. It was not a good start.

For a fleeting moment he wished he were back in the House of Healing where all was quiet. He dismissed the thought. Surely there would be some way to see this through, for he and Saeryn to find harmony together.

He knew much that had happened while he had been away. Falco had told him much that he had himself been told, as well as some things that he had both heard and overheard. Eodwine was concerned for Thornden. He had not seen him yet, and wondered if all was well.

But the women were silent, which seemed most odd in Frodides, who usually spoke her mind with great alacrity and freedom. Kara was likely to make conversation and did not. Maybe they were ill at ease because he and Saeryn. He cast a glance at Ginna. She seemed more than uncomfortable. She seemed downcast. He liked to think that his coming would be greeted with more joy than that; so things maybe were not well with her.

"Ginna, tell me how it is with you. How is Harreld?"

[Folwren]

Thornden stood when Eodwine entered, but he did not approach and he watched in silence, as all present did, as Eodwine knelt and swore fealty to Athanar. He did not know immediately how to respond or react to that. He saw Athanar reach out and receive the sword and bid Eodwine rise. He partially heard the short exchange of words between them before Eodwine and Saeryn left. Then he sat down in thoughtful silence.

Eodwine would be lord no longer. Did this surprise him? No. . .not really. King Eomer had sent Athanar as a permanent replacement, and this had been clear from the very first day. Eodwine of all people would not seek to regain any place of power. Thornden knew this, and though he had never thought of it before, he now realized that of course Eodwine would offer his loyalty to the new lord. Clearly, Thornden would continue as he had done before Eodwine’s return and serve Athanar faithfully without dividing his loyalty between him and Eodwine. He would speak with Eodwine, too, and ask if there was anything he might do for him. He felt still some connection with him, and having been his steward for the entirety of his time as eorl, Thornden hoped that he would still be able to stay close to him in counsel and aid, should Eodwine need it.

He was drawn away from his thoughts by the conversation of some men down the table from him. “I did not say I expected him to try to take his old place, I just did not expect him to swear loyalty to lord Athanar, as though he were a commoner.”

“Lord Eo-,” Thornden began, leaning forward, and then stopped himself. The men turned to look towards him. “I mean, Eodwine does not pretend in anything he does. He swore loyalty to Athanar because he really does mean to be subject to him in exactly the manner he made his oath in, and he meant to show us all that there is to be no division here between his old men and those who came after him.”

“Yes, I realize that,” Quin replied. In the past month, he had become comfortable with the Old Scarburgians and spoke freely, even with Thornden. “But I just thought. . .” He paused, and his face turned a shade red. “With how some people spoke about Eodwine’s return, and how they always talked about him, and hearing how loyally you all spoke of him, I really thought he would be a stronger man.”

Thornden glanced towards the door where Eodwine had departed from, leaning on Saeryn. “He is very sick,” he said. “He left Minas Tirith probably too early for his own good. He has never been a proud man, if you think that a strength he lacks. I do not think we could love him as we do were he proud. But to be humble is not a weakness."

[Firefoot]

Falco had ridden into the hall yard well ahead of the rest of Eodwine’s party. Léof was initially alarmed, thinking that something must have gone wrong and Falco had come to get help, but almost immediately he realized that Falco had come at far too leisurely a pace for that, besides the fact that he was not calling for help.

“Greetings, Master Falco! And welcome back!” said Léof. “But where is the rest of your party? How fares Lord Eodwine?”

“And good day to you,” said Falco as he pulled to a halt and dismounted, and Léof noticed immediately that the hobbit’s voice lacked some of its normal cheer. “The rest are coming along. Eodwine… you shall see soon enough. Too stubborn to wait long enough to be truly fit for travel.”

“But we had heard that he was well!” said Léof.

“And so he will be. But it is good that the road was not longer than it was,” said Falco.

Now the rest of the party was riding up, and Léof left Falco to attend to them. All thoughts of Saeryn’s delicate situation fled his mind when he saw Eodwine, for it was eminently clear that his state of health was far more precarious than his. In dismay, he held Eodwine’s horse as Hilderinc helped him from the saddle, then took two more horses from Saeryn as she helped Eodwine inside.

Léof took the horses into the stable and unsaddled them as quickly as he could. Falco had said that Eodwine was unfit, but this seemed a massive understatement to Léof. He had looked near to falling off his horse! And him as fine a horseman as any Léof had ever met! Clearly there was more to be told. Léof put the horses away and hurried into the hall. Eodwine and Saeryn were nowhere to be seen, but Thornden and Quin were both sitting with many of the other soldiers. Just then Thornden was talking. Léof heard as he approached: “I do not think we could love him as we do were he proud. But to be humble is not a weakness.”

He sat down beside Quin where there was an opening. “What have I missed?” he asked quietly.

[Durelin]

Coenred nodded at Thornden's words, leaning over the table a little to look at him. "Agreed, Thornden. Pride has its place, but men who are quick to challenge are not strong, but brash fools." Coen was thinking of a man or two in particular, such as the men Thornden had wished to protect.

But he let his eyes pass quickly over the men, including Áforglæd and Scyrr, and back to his gruel. These men were not fools, but pride could drive a man to foolish things.

The real question was no longer about Eodwine, as it never had been. It was about those people whose loyalty and pride -- or proud loyalty -- would be tested all over again. Coen desperately wanted to ask what Thornden thought of Eodwine's oath, and how he thought it would be received by those people he felt a particular loyalty and responsibility to, like a secondary lord. But he would not in front of the men. He had no intention of helping any renewed division along.

[Folwren]

“Agreed, Thornden. Pride has its place, but men who are quick to challenge are not strong, but brash fools.”

Thornden looked swiftly at Coenred, his eyes sharp for a second, but Coenred did not follow his comment up with anything more, and he did not meet Thornden’s eye for more than a second. His glance was not challenging, more curious than anything.

Thornden considered Coenred silently for some second. Since the incident with Erbrand and Lithor, he and the captain had not been in close fellowship. There had been a rift driven between them that he had been unable to remove. The fault was his, he knew, but he wished Coenred would at least speak to him, instead of holding his thoughts in silence.

While he thought thus, Quin was answering Leof’s question.

“Your old eorl, Eodwine, just came in, and the first thing he did was go to Athanar, kneel before him, and offer him his sword while swearing loyalty to him! And he, looking half dead at that! We were just now discussing it. . .he is not well, you know. So ill he went out leaning upon lady Saeryn as though he were an old man. I mean no disrespect, Thornden,” he added, turning again to him. Thornden looked over at him. “That is just how he was.”

Thornden shrugged and stood up. He moved over to Coenred and sat down across from him. The men about them were speaking, leaning closer to discuss things more thoroughly with Quin and Leof, and Thornden bent across the table towards Coenred.

“What are you thinking, Coenred? You seem to wonder about Eodwine’s manner of return as much as Quin, but in your older wisdom, you keep silent.”

[Firefoot]

Scyld had crowded around with the rest of the Scarburgians at the arrival of the old eorl. Not for the first time in the last month, he found himself peculiarly moved by the loyalty Eodwine’s former household continued to show to him. It was the same sort of attitude that had driven Scyld to seek out these people in the first place – an attitude of selflessness, loyalty… love.

He still did not understand it.

Scyld’s loyalty was to himself – to seeing himself well-provided for, in the best position possible should events turn awry. He was a survivor – and his survival had more than once depended on him looking out for himself, because no one else would. Yet here were all these people, still showing such loyalty to a lord who could no longer serve them as a lord must. Making things harder for themselves by not simply accepting the rule of the new lord, no matter how different he might be from the old. Once, Scyld would have said that one master was just the same as another, but now he was not so sure.

Having lived and worked under both Sorn and Eodwine, he could hardly compare the two. He did not trust Eodwine, because Scyld still feared that if his history were found out he might be sent to the gallows. And if he did not trust Eodwine, he certainly did not trust Athanar and his heavy-handed sense of justice. However, he could not deny the air of freedom and camaraderie shared by those living in Scarburg – something he had never believed could really exist.

That being said, Athanar was no Sorn, and since those first couple of eventful days, Scyld could not really said that the hall fared any worse under Athanar than it had under Eodwine. So in that sense, a change in lord was not so great a hardship.

Still, he could not help but be curious to see how the meeting of the old and the new eorls would play out. Eodwine entered the hall, followed by Saeryn and the hobbit Falco. But then one came whom he was not expecting – Rowenna.

He was startled by his own reaction to seeing her: he felt like his heart was hammering in his throat. Could it be that he had actually missed her? She was certainly interesting, more interesting to him than most of the people in the hall. Like him, she was a survivor – ambitious, and ruthless, perhaps. Not just a little pretty, to sweeten the deal… but vicious. Scyld suddenly recalled his last significant interaction with her had ended in her smacking him across the face.

He realized that he was staring and forced his attention back to Eodwine. Of all the absurd things to be thinking of – a woman! It seemed that all this time he had been spending pretending to be Nydfara was finally getting to his head. Next thing he’d be fluttering and sighing (or crying, as had been the case lately) over the hall romances like the kitchen girls.

He had pulled himself from his reverie just in time to catch Eodwine swearing his fealty to Athanar. Now there was an unexpected turn. He would be interested to hear what the others thought of that. As was his habit, he faded into the background to watch and listen.

[Durelin]

Coen waited to look up at Thornden until the man started to speak. He gave a small smile. “Older wisdom? I hope that is not an attempt at flattery.” He paused, his features growing tighter again. “Naturally I have wondered about his return for some time. And now some questions are answered, but others…”

He twisted his mouth in some distaste at speaking about this so openly. Then he lowered his voice. “Of course I wonder what this will stir back up. Will Eodwine’s fealty be echoed by his people?”

[Folwren]

Thornden’s level gaze did not lower at all when Coenred spoke rather stingingly. He studied him carefully as he finished. “Of course I wonder what this will stir back up. Will Eodwine’s fealty be echoed by his people?”

Thornden drew back a fraction. “I would not be surprised if there was some questioning of his decision at first, but there will be no rebelling, no violence. Eodwine will soon assure everyone that what he has done is best, and he will restore order, if order must be restored. Do you fear otherwise?”

[Firefoot]

Léof was stunned. “He didn’t!” he exclaimed, as Quin explained to him what had happened. Léof wasn’t sure, exactly, what he had expected to happen. Certainly Athanar had made no preparations to leave Scarburg after learning of Eodwine’s return, but Léof had still somehow figured that since Eodwine was back he would naturally take charge again.

“Aye, he did. Just like Quin said,” said Hylath.

He couldn’t believe he’d missed it. Had it really been just as Quin said? Maybe Athanar had said something to him to make him do it… but no. Thornden was sitting right there, too. He would have said something. Léof glanced down at him, but Thornden was no longer following the conversation, instead having his own private one with Coenred. That made Léof a little uncomfortable, since everyone else in the group had come in with Athanar. Or, almost everyone – there was that Nydfara, down at the other end of the table. Ever since Nydfara had confronted him in the stable, Léof didn’t trust him a bit. All in all, he thought, better not to say too much in this conversation. Nothing too controversial, anyway. “Well. Didn’t see that one coming…” said Léof.

“No one did, that’s just it,” said another of the soldiers. Léof still had trouble keeping all their names straight.

“I expected a bit more of a fight, myself,” said Scyrr. Léof did not like Scyrr; he was one of the soldiers most condescending towards Léof’s position as stablemaster. “But it’s like Quin said, the old eorl seemed more than halfway to the grave. Not much of a fighter. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was dead within the week, and all this hubbub for nothing.”

“He has had a long journey,” chided another soldier. “Besides, now he’s got that pretty young wife of his to care for him. I’d get sick too if I could get in on some of that.” A round of laughter followed this comment.

“Enjoy it better if you weren’t sick,” someone chimed in, and the laughter rose louder. Léof felt distinctly uncomfortable hearing the Lady Saeryn discussed this way, and he wished he had a way of turning the conversation back to Eodwine. Fortunately he was saved the effort, for their ribald jests had not gone unnoticed by Thornden.

“Hold your tongue,” Thornden said severely. His eyes clapped onto the last soldier who had spoken. “If you cannot speak respectfully of Lady Saeryn, then don’t speak at all.” He glanced about the table, taking them all in. “Another word in a similar thought, and I’ll see the man outside.” After a pause, he turned again to Coenred and they took up their conversation once more.

There was a moment of silence amongst the soldiers before someone spoke up again.

“What I’d like to know is, why didn’t Lord Athanar formally accept Eodwine’s pledge? He said they had many things to discuss. That sounds to me like it’s not really over.”

Léof’s ears perked up at that. Maybe things weren’t as set in stone as Quin had made it sound? “Does that matter?” he asked. “Did Eodwine only offer loyalty, or swear it?"

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine

"Ginna, tell me how it is with you. How is Harreld?"

The eyes of all the women in the kitchen turned towards Ginna, surprised and then sympathetic. She felt her face growing hot, and a sinking feeling in her stomach as though she had been punched. This was a question she expected, but not here and now. Lord Eodwine, she wanted to say, have you absolutely no sense of subtlely? She suppressed these thoughts with a self-conscious swallow.

"I suppose he's well, uh-" she realised she still did not know how to address him, and left the sentence hanging. "I haven't seen much of him these past weeks. Busy with his work and helping Garreth settle, I suspect."

Eodwine stared at her for a moment, shocked. Lovers make time for each other, sometimes no matter what the cost, he thought. Things were not well between them? He would have to ask Saeryn ... well, not until things were made right between them. He would talk with Ginna alone, later, about that.

"So Garreth is here now too. That is good news. No doubt there is more than enough work for both of them now that Scarburg has twice the warriors. But-" He was about to ask her how she was, but if things were not well between her and Harreld, it would also be a difficult question. "So tell me how things are at Scarburg as you see it from the kitchen."

Ginna gently exhaled in relief that Eodwine chose not to pursue the topic of Harreld further, at least for the meantime. When he next asked her about him, she would be prepared. Perhaps prepared even for what she would ask of Eodwine. She wondered if it would be better to have that conversation with Harreld present. She set the thought aside.

"We hardly even take our eyes off of the kitchen, there's simply too much work to be done here," Frodides replied with a look at Ginna, who smiled at her gratefully. "But since we have not heard news of brawlings or shouting matches, perhaps things have become more peaceful since Athanar arrived."

A small silence settled. Modtryth's mind had been elsewhere - Saeryn's follies, and where had she run off to, if the boys were still trying to catch fish with their bare hands or do something about as idiotic, Bema only knew how big part of the day she had spent stopping them from even more tomfoolery than on an average day - but now she was there. She hated to be the stromcrow, but Eodwine needed the truth.

"Lord Eodwine," she said. "Not all has been well, I'm afraid. There was much strife between Lord Athanar's folk and yours in the beginning - I don't know if you know, but Erbrand and Lithor are gone after Erbrand stabbed one of Athanar's men. Lots of smaller conflicts too, starting from Javan hitting Lord Athanar's daughter. It was a mess... it's been more peaceful for the last month or so, everybody's getting settled in, and I reckon the trouble with the landlords is past too. And of course, week by week this place becomes more like a proper meadhall, although there is still much to do, most notably the sheep don't have a place yet." She stopped, quite out of breath. Modtryth was a quiet woman, not used to talking so much at once, especially not to high lords, even high lords as amiable as Lord Eodwine.

Eodwine smiled. "Some of what you say is known to me, Modtryth. I must ask you not to call me 'lord' anymore, for I no longer hold the title, and I am not your eorl. I am your friend. I hope that is enough."

Rowenna

She had walked with Eodwine and Saeryn to Athanar, where she had spotted a familiar face; her gut wrenched. The last dealing she had had with the owner of that face had been a tongue lashing in her rage. She could almost feel the sting in her palm from having slapped him so hard.

Nydfara.

She kept her eyes on Eodwine as he knelt and offered his sword and aid, which was not quite accepted by the new eorl. This much she noticed.

But she could not get Nydfara out of her head. There was that same pull she had felt before, and she knew why it was there. There was that something about him that put her in mind of her two years with the brigands. It had been a hard life and she had been unfairly used by them; yet there had been something about the life that she had loved. It had been adventurous; she had had to keep her wits about her and had learned the subtle use of her womanhood in that hard life. She had become adept at getting them to do her bidding without them quite realizing it was her will they were following. It had been a heady experience. She felt it calling to her again, just by being near Nydfara.

She had also become embittered and deeply wounded during those two years, and she knew deep down that any talk or dealings or more with Nydfara would likely send her back into that. She did not want it; she wrestled down the vixen in her nature and paid Nydfara not the least attention.

When Saeryn and Eodwine had gone to their rooms, Rowenna had gone to the stables to help with the mounts, and then was shown to the room she would call her own. She put away her things and made the little room her own, as much as could be done in a short time, and then went to the Hall.

Most everyone was gathered and talking in big groups or small. Not surprisingly, a lot of the talk was about Eodwine. Where was Falco? Nowhere to be seen in the Mead Hall? How odd. She wondered where he was. With a quick glance she saw Nydfara at the end of one of the tables where the men sat. She passed by without a glance and made her way to the women, and Eodwine. Saeryn was not in the Hall.

Eodwine had just finished speaking when she arrived. She greeted the women and turned to Eodwine. "Where is Lady Saeryn, Eodwine? I would speak with her."

"She is in our room, I think," he answered. He still did not look well, and his face seemed more pinched just then, speaking of his wife. "Go see her if you like. It has been a long time since you have had a chance to talk to each other."

[Folwren]

When Rowenna knocked on Saeyrn’s door, Saeryn was sitting on the edge of the bed, thinking. Her hands rested in her lap, clenched, and her lips were pressed hard shut. She looked up at the sound of the knock and then answered it. “Who is it?”

“'Tis Rowenna. May I come in?”

Saeryn paused, and then replied that she could. She stood as the door opened and when Rowenna entered, Saeryn went forward to greet her, putting her arms about her and kissing her cheek.

“I did not have time to welcome you back before, Rowenna,” she said, smiling briefly. “I trust you are well?”

[Folwren]

“Did Eodwine only offer loyalty, or swear it?” Léof asked.

Quin tilted the cup of water in his hand and watched the liquid swirl. “Let’s see,” he said, thinking. “Yes, I’d say he swore it. He said, ‘Here is my sword,’ he was kneeling at this time and had offered Athanar the hilts of his sword, and he went on, ‘and I offer you my aid as long as you need it.’ And here is where I think he really swore it, ‘I will hold you as lord until you or the king release me.’” Quin nodded his head. “He said that. ‘I will hold you as lord,’ and if that isn’t saying Athanar was eorl, and Eodwine no longer was, then I don’t know what would be. Athanar took the sword, too. He set it on that table. . ." he pointed, and then paused. "He must have taken it with him," he said when the sword was no where in sight.

He shrugged and looked at Léof. “So, what do you think? You’ve been with Eodwine for a long time, and I imagine your reaction will reflect those of the others, too. Were you expecting this?”

[littlemanpoet]

“I did not have time to welcome you back before, Rowenna,” she said, smiling briefly. “I trust you are well?”

Rowenna sat beside Saeryn on her bed. "I am well," she answered. Saeryn smiled only briefly. Her welcome had been gracious and warm, so Rowenna guessed that Saeryn was not feeling ill toward her.

"But why are you here in your room while Eodwine is in the hall?"

Eodwine

Eodwine was not ready to go to his wife and had watched Rowenna leave the Hall. He did not know what to think, what Rowenna might be able to say or hear from Saeryn. He turned and faced the women.

"Frodides, I am not hungry or thirsty anymore. I feel that I need some air. Ginna's father did ask me to look after her, and it is high time that I took up my responsibility again. Would it be asking too much for you to spare your serving woman for a little while?

[Folwren]

Saeryn looked away from Rowenna. Her hands slipped from her lap and clutched the quilt on the bed. For a moment, she said nothing in response to Rowenna’s query. She did not know what to tell her. She and Eodwine had not quarreled seriously as man and wife, and Saeryn did not know if she should tell Rowenna everything, or even part of it.

“We do not see eye to eye on a matter,” she said slowly. “And just now, he has treated me unfairly and ungraciously.” She felt a hot flush creep up her neck, and though she did not say that he put her down before the other women, she felt it sorely.

“I think you would agree with me, Rowenna, in this. Perhaps you can help persuade him that I am right.”

[Lhunardawen]

Frodides looked briefly at Ginna, and then turned back to Eodwine saying, "All right, I can spare her. But bring her back before noon, and in one piece."

"Of course," he replied with a laugh, rising slowly from his seat. Ginna proceeded to walk towards him but stopped and, after a moment's hesitation, took off her apron. As she reckoned that Eodwine would speak with her as Randvér's daughter and not as a servant of the hall, it seemed to her fitting. She wrapped herself warmly before following his lead out the back door.

She thought Eodwine meant to sit nearby to get the air he needed, but he had other plans. He kept on walking farther from the hall, looking around with interest, taking in all the changes, breathing again the air of Scarburg after a long time of absence. He seemed to her at ease despite the evidence that life in the mead hall had continued without him, and that he now returned to it as one of different standing. Ginna, on the other hand, was uncomfortable with his silence. She shivered in the winter chill, realising how long it was since she had left the warmth and familiarity of the kitchen.

"E- Eodwine," she finally said, not without discomfort at omitting his former title, "I am aware that I have not answered your first question earlier. I do not want to add to your problems, even something as-- as trivial as mine, but you have mentioned your duty to my father and I know you would insist." She paused, feeling his gaze on her, and met his eyes. "Not all has been well with me these past weeks."

[littlemanpoet]

It was good to get out in the fresh air. He walked slowly away from the Hall, and Ginna walked with him. He liked what he saw. They had done well in his absence. He would have expected nothing else.

He did not immediately bring them around to his earlier question. It was not that he wanted to put Ginna off. Rather, he was at ease. The young woman was his friend's daughter, but he appreciated her for who she was. He was beginning to prepare his words to her when she spoke. He was glad that she observed his request not to use the old title. He smiled sadly as she gave herself short shrift to him.

"Not all has been well with me these past weeks."

By which she meant that not all was well between her and Harreld. He had thought so.

"I am sorry, Ginna. Has the return of Garreth distracted Harreld from his pledgetroth to you?" She shook her head. "No?" She looked up at him, her face so sad. "Has Harreld said or done something to hurt you?"

[Folwren]

Rowenna's brow knitted. It was unlike Eodwine to treat anyone unfairly or ungraciously. She did not know what to say. The last thing she wanted to do now was to agree with one of them against the other. "Saeryn," she said tentatively, "I am grateful to both of you for the kindness you have shown me. If your cause is truly just, does he need persuading from me? What is the matter you do not agree on?"

"His status here," Saeryn replied. "He was set as eorl by the king. When he left, Athanar came and took his place, but I believe that now he has returned, he should retake what is rightfully his. But he does not see it that way."

Rowenna placed her hand on Saeryn's hand gripping the quilt. "He did not tell Falco and me that he was going to kneel before Athanar. I was as surprised as you. One thing is clear, though. It was his first deed when he back back. So he must have it close to his heart that he will not be eorl." Suddenly it dawned on Rowenna. "And it is close to your heart that he should be eorl. But you said that he treated you unfairly. Was that be kneeling before Athanar?"

"No," Saeryn said. Her hand trembled beneath Rewenna's, and she had to work on holding back tears. "He would not listen to me from the very beginning. Yes, this must've have been close to his heart, because he would not even come in and eat when I urged him at first." Her words were so scattered that she found it difficult to keep track of them herself. "But that's not even what I'm talking about. He called me willful before Frodides and the other women in the kitchen." She stopped and she had trouble drawing a breath. Her eyes stung and she couldn't speak, so many emotions were hitting her at once. "And I swear, though I am not certain, he was about to strike me." Until this moment it had not quite occurred to her how much she felt that. But he so rarely was angry with anyone that she could not help but feel it.

"Oh, Saeryn! Are you sure?" It was hard for Rowenna to imagine Eodwine even coming close to striking any one, especially a woman. She doubted that it was something Saeryn dreamed up, but it seemed so out of his character. She had been struck over and over among the brigands, and had come to expect it; she realized now that it had been one of the things that had most hardened and embittered her. It would have truly scared Saeryn, to see in her husband even the possibility for something so ugly. "How did it happen?"

Saeryn stared straight ahead for a moment, unable to say a word for fear of crying. She tried too soon and broke into tears as soon as she began. "I guess I pushed him to his limits. I may have been slightly aware that I was testing him, I don't know! But then, when I went in and told the ladies that he had returned, and I called him their eorl...that's when it happened."

Rowenna closed her eyes tight and winced. "Oh no." She opened her eyes again and looked at Saeryn in sympathy. After Eodwine's deed before Athanar, calling him their eorl would have been like Saeryn slapping him in the face. "Oh Saeryn, I'm sorry."

She was at a loss for words. They had both hurt each other. "Maybe you should talk to each other."

"I've tried talking to him, but he doesn't listen. It's as though he were actually happy with how things are. He doesn't seem to realize that he has been robbed of his eorldom. Do you have any idea what it will be like to be the wife of the man who should be eorl, but see another in his place every day?" She turned bleary eyes to Rowenna. "Have you any idea?"

"No, my dear, but I do know what it is like to want to be the eorl's wife and have that dream dashed in a moment." Saeryn looked up at her in sudden startlement. "No," Rowenna said, shaking her head and smiling, "I do not grudge you at all. You and Eodwine love each other, and I am happy for you. Why do you want Eodwine to have the eorldom back?"

"Because it's his!" Saeryn replied vehemently. She stood up and paced the room. "Athanar has no right to take Eodwine's place here. Perhaps it would have been one thing, if Eodwine had done something to deserve the king's displeasure, but he has not. He got ill, and they did not expect him to get better - well and good - but now he is back. And Athanar still sits in his seat." She stopped and looked Rowenna square in the eye. "Don't you see anything wrong with that? Or am I just making trouble over nothing?" She paused again, and before Rowenna could reply, she went on. "No. Perhaps you, and perhaps Eodwine, think that I am just greedy, and married him for his status. Well, that's not it. I love Eodwine," her voice broke with tears, but she went on, "And I would have married him had he been a servant of another eorl, but he's not, and he should never have to be."

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna had had two years to watch and influence the disagreements and the pride of brigands. None of that had prepared her for this. Saeryn felt that she was looking out for Eodwine's best interests, and Eodwine seemed to have a different view on the matter.

"Saeryn, dear, what does Eodwine want?"

[Folwren]

Saeryn looked at her as though the question had never crossed her mind. "What does he want?" she repeated. "I don't know what he wants, but I don't think we'll get a chance to see. He will do whatever he thinks is right. And he obviously thinks that it is right to obey the king without question. I just want him to see that it's not right."

She paused, frustrated with her own thoughts. "I respect the king, and I respect his decisions, but he has made an error this time. Apparently nobody except me sees that." She turned and sat down again. "Do you think I am wrong, too?"

[Lhunardawen]

"Has Harreld said or done something to hurt you?"

Ginna shook her head again. "It would be unfair to lay the blame on him. He only wanted me - wanted us - to obey my father's will."

Eodwine gave her a quizzical look, his attention on her as though all else around was forgotten.

"My father sent me a letter a moon ago, telling of his favour for Thornden over Harreld." She stopped herself from saying that Harreld also read the letter without her knowledge. She did not want to cast a bad light on him before the former eorl, and it no longer mattered. "I tried to convince Harreld to set aside my father's wishes - that was all it was to me - but he would not. I asked him to help me change his mind, but he was unwilling."

[Firefoot]

“So, what do you think? You’ve been with Eodwine for a long time, and I imagine your reaction will reflect those of the others, too. Were you expecting this?” Quin asked.

I expected that if Eodwine came back, Athanar would leave. If it had been just Quin he was talking to, Léof might have said it. But not to so many newcomers. Not to Nydfara. The atmosphere of the hall was too charged with tension, and Léof did not wish to accidentally start a fight. “I don’t know that you could say I’ve been with Eodwine ‘a long time,’” Léof hedged. “Less than a year. And I knew him less well than some of the others. But no, I did not expect this, nor did the idea ever occur to me. I doubt anyone else really expected it, either.”

“Then perhaps none of you knew your lord so well as you thought,” suggested Nydfara, joining the conversation for the first time.

Léof scowled at him. “Well enough,” he said. “Are you saying that you did expect it?”

“I made no such claim,” replied Nydfara lightly. “Though I do not find it unreasonable of him, if forestalling division was his goal. A hall cannot have two lords.”

“Well, no, but –” But what? Léof realized he didn’t really have a reply to that statement. Hadn’t he been trying to avoid an argument? “I didn’t say Eodwine did wrongly,” said Léof, still irritated but trying not to let it show. “Just that I wasn’t expecting it.”

~*~*~

Scyld inclined his head, allowing the young stablemaster to have the point (unless someone else wished to take it up, of course). He did not wish to appear to be a trouble-maker, after all, or a picker of needless quarrels. He also knew that there were some of Athanar’s soldiers who would agree with his words; he had seen a couple of nodding heads when he spoke. One could never have too many allies.

[Folwren]

Quin rubbed his chin and listened to the other two young men speaking. He had spent enough time with Leof to know his association with Eodwine, but he did not know Nydfara well. He did not know if Nydfara knew Eodwine any less than Leof knew him, but Quin did pick up a little bit of defensiveness in Leof’s voice when Nydfara spoke. He guessed that Leof thought he should know Eodwine better than Nydfara – perhaps he had been part of Eodwine’s household before him.

Once Nydfara subsided, Quin again addressed Leof. “I don’t think anyone thought you were saying Eodwine did wrong. I guess I am curious to know what you did expect.”

[Firefoot]

“I guess I am curious to know what you did expect.”

Drat Quin’s persistence! The very question Léof had been trying to sidestep. No way to avoid it now though. So he said, “I didn’t think about it all that hard, but I guess I thought that Athanar would leave.”

[littlemanpoet]

"Perhaps you," said Saeryn, "and perhaps Eodwine, think that I am just greedy, and married him for his status. Well, that's not it. I love Eodwine," her voice broke with tears. "And I would have married him had he been a servant of another eorl, but he's not, and he should never have to be."

Saeryn lapsed into silence and saw to her tears. Rowenna's thought ran fast and in ways she was ashamed of, but old habits were hard to break: how could she use this to her own benefit? No. That would be unfair to Saeryn. Rowenna was here for Saeryn, to help her during the months left while she was with child. Unless she could use it to the benefit of both of them? What about Eodwine? He was a good man and she liked him. How could she use this for his benefit also? Find a way to make him eorl? But she knew that he did not want that. Or did she know that? Maybe he really was diong what he felt was right and was his duty, and would want to be eorl if he thought it possible? The best thing would be to sound him out. But what about Saeryn right now, who had begun to watch her eyes as her thought raced.

"Saeryn, dear, do you really think the king is wrong? Might he be persuaded of it?"

[littlemanpoet]

"I asked him to help me change his mind, but he was unwilling," Ginna answered.

Eodwine studied Ginna. He waited a moment to see if she would say more. She was putting a brave face on a very difficult matter, one that pained her deeply. He could see that much.

"Did he say why, Ginna?"

[Lhunardawen]

"He believes my father will never let us be wed because of his station. That, if not Thornden, then he will keep on looking for another man fit to be my husband."

Reliving that conversation, for the first time since she talked with Saeryn that fateful night, tore her inside, but it no longer brought her to tears. Perhaps she had become weary of it. Perhaps there was nothing left to be shed. Whatever the reason was, she was grateful for it. She felt that crying in front of Eodwine would make this appear more difficult for her, as well as for him, than she wanted him to see.

"I think he misunderstood my father's words. For me, that was his way of telling me that I have the freedom to decide for myself. But so long as Harreld has made up his mind, it does not matter what I think. He did say, however," she added, feeling a faint hope rise within her as it did whenever she remembered those words, "that if a way may be found for us to be together, he would walk it with me."

Ginna looked at Eodwine, an unspoken question in her eyes. Feeling the warmth rising in her cheeks out of shame for her selfishness, she turned away quickly.

[Folwren]

Saeryn

“Do you reall think the king is wrong? Might he be persuaded of it?”

Saeryn lifted her head and looked at her. “Of course the king is wrong,” she said. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I do not mean to be disrespectful, but that is how it is. And. . .I don’t know. . .maybe he could be persuaded of it, but what do you want me to do? Ride to Edoras and inform King Eomer that he is mistaken and must put Eodwine back in his seat as eorl? If Eodwine was angry about me announcing his arrival as eorl to the women in the kitchen, he would be even more angry about me going to court. I have to convince Eodwine of what is right before I try to convince the king.

--

Quin

“I didn’t think about it all that hard, but I guess I thought that Athanar would leave.”

Quin put his cup down on the table with a clump and stared at Leof. Some of the other men had the same reaction, but not all of their glances were quite as devoid of suspicion and anger as Quin’s look.

“You really mean that,” Quin marveled. “You really thought that he might go?”

“Impudence,” muttered Scyrr. “After all lord Athanar has done for you…”

Quin frowned, but did not ask Scyrr to keep quiet. He kept his eyes on Leof, and he realized how uncomfortable he had become admitting what he’d just said. Quin regretted pressing the issue, but it was too late now. He had more questions he would like to ask Leof, but later would have to suffice. To press for more thoughts now on the matter would probably only make the other men angrier with Leof, and that would not do.

“I. . .I think I need to get to work, or something,” he said lamely. Surely, there was work to be done. They had tarried longer than usual at the breakfast table this morning. He got up and walked away.

[Durelin]

Coen’s eyebrows rose. Eodwine would ‘restore order?’ What did Thornden mean by that? While Eodwine seemingly let go of his former position willingly, or at least accepted the king’s decisions without grudge, these people would not let his power go.

“Lord Athanar will keep order in this hall, and I am sure Eodwine will not do anything to disrupt that order.”

He stood and looked at the rest of the men at the table just after Quin left. The young man had the right idea. “You’ve all lingered enough at table. Those of you who have duties this morning better get to them.” Coen then left the hall, planning to check to see if Athanar had need of him before making his rounds to see that the men were at their duties or appropriately occupied.

Not all of them had work to do this morning or posts to be at, though he did his best to keep their hands busy. There was always labor about the hall they could help with, especially since some building was still in progress. But this morning, even just breaking them up from sitting all together at the table might keep things a little quieter… With all those men together and recent events on their minds and tongues, he did not want to return to those first days at the hall.

[Firefoot]

As hesitant as Léof had been to offer his real opinion, he was still unprepared for the looks of astonishment and hostility that instantly sprang to the faces of every soldier at the table. It hadn’t been that outlandish of an idea. And he hadn’t said that he wanted Athanar to leave, only that he thought he would. Evidently it was much the same thing in the eyes of the soldiers.

“You really mean that,” Quin marveled. “You really thought that he might go?” Léof mentally pleaded for Quin to understand. If Quin couldn’t, there was no way any of the others would.

“Impudence,” muttered Scyrr. “After all lord Athanar has done for you…”

Suddenly Léof was furious. After all Athanar had done for him? What exactly did Scyrr think Athanar had done for him? Allowed him to keep a position he had long since earned? A position which hardly any of Athanar’s men seemed to take seriously, even though their presence here had probably doubled the amount of work he had to do? He was treated like a boy, like a joke, and what did Athanar do about it? Eodwine had treated him with respect! Everyone in Eodwine’s household did! Was it any wonder that he might wish for Athanar to leave? For things to go back to the way they were?

He was just about to open his mouth with a heated and very poorly thought-out reply when Coenred interrupted the conversation by saying, “You’ve all lingered enough at table. Those of you who have duties this morning better get to them.” Most of the soldiers then got up and left, ignoring Léof or shooting him one last look of disbelief. As Scyrr got up, he left Léof with one last comment: “You’d better watch your tongue, stableboy. It might get you into trouble.”

Stableboy! Léof shot to his feet, fists clenched and jaw tight. If he’d dared, he would have taken Scyrr on right then and there, but Léof still held it in his mind that Scyrr was several inches taller, quite a bit heavier, and a trained soldier to boot. He wouldn’t stand a chance. So instead he stalked off towards the stables without a word, walking as quickly as he could without running. He thought he heard Thornden call his name, but Léof ignored him. He didn’t know what it was he was planning to do but it was plain that he had to do something. Get out of here for a while.

Upon reaching the stable he jerked Æthel out of her stall and tied her in the aisle. She stamped and tossed her head nervously, but Léof heedlessly left her to fetch her tack. His mind was filled with the things he could do to get back at Scyrr and the other soldiers who had treated him so badly. Put stinging nettle in their bedrolls. Hide their weapons. Damage their weapons. Put their horses out to pasture just before they’d be needed. Injure their horses so they couldn’t ride.

Wait – injure their horses? What was he thinking? Suddenly his legs felt weak and he sat down heavily on the floor in the tack room, bridle clenched in one hand. He was shaking all over. Injure their horses? Léof drew in a ragged breath. And to think he’d been about to take Æthel out riding in this mood! He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this helpless, this out of control –

In a moment he would go back out and put Æthel back in her stall, but just yet he didn’t want to do anything. Didn’t want to think about how close he’d come to totally losing it. To putting Æthel in danger with his recklessness. He couldn’t afford to lose his head so completely. The potential results… he couldn’t bear to think of them.

[Folwren]

Thornden had not heard what Léof said. Ceonred had spoken at that moment. But he instantly felt the change in the attitude around the table, and it wasn’t from what Coenred said.

In fact, Coenred’s reply had once more taken Thornden aback. Not that his words had anything to disagree with, more that he regretted a misunderstanding, however small, to have sprung from something he said. He had not meant that Athanar would not be able to keep control of his hall. He had merely meant that if some of Eodwine’s old followers had attempted to put Eodwine in his old place, Eodwine would have declined the offer firmly, and thereby stopped any uprising before it even began. No one would force Eodwine into a position he did not want.

But these thoughts and explanations had to go unsaid, for Coenred stood up immediately and ordered everyone to their daily business. Most of the men got up immediately and walked away. Thornden rose, too, but paused a moment, intending to ask one of the soldiers about the condition of the weapons in the weaponry. Before he addressed him, he saw Scyrr rise and turn towards Léof.

“You’d better watch your tongue, stableboy. It might get you into trouble.”

Thornden turned to look just as Léof leapt to his feet, a look of insult and fury clear on his face, and Thornden truly feared that he would assault Scyrr that instant. But he did not. Instead, he stormed out, heading no doubt for the stables.

“Léof, wait a moment!” Thornden called. But he did not wait. Perhaps he did not hear. “What did he say?” he asked, aloud, turning back around.

“Something about lord Athanar,” the soldier replied. “I don’t know, I didn’t hear. They were talking about Eodwine’s return and how he greeted Athanar.”

Thornden nodded. The two of them quickly discussed the weapons and decided that they could check and put them in order that morning, and then Thornden hurried out to see if he could find Léof.

Ӕthel was tied in the stable aisle, but she was unsaddled. She looked over at Thornden when he entered and whinnied softly. Thornden walked passed her, stroking her gently as he went by. He went to the tack room and stopped in the doorway. Léof sat in the middle of the floor, staring off into space and looking as though he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning.

“What’s the matter, Léof?” he asked.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine saw the pleading in Ginna's eyes, and the blush come to her cheeks just before she turned away.

"Lilla would be her age had she not been killed in the war," he thought. Maybe she was Randver's daughter, but his heart wne out to her as if she were his own. He guessed what she hoped for from him.

The soldiers were emptying from the Hall, breakfast finished. There was Léof hurrying to the stables. "I should greet him."

"Ginna, I can talk with Harreld, if you like, see what this wall is that he thinks is in the way."

Her head rose but she turned only so that he saw her profile.

[Firefoot]

“What’s the matter, Léof?”

Léof looked up, startled. He’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard Thornden approach. “What? Oh. Nothing. It’s fine,” he said, realizing he was still sitting on the floor and clambering to his feet.

Thornden just looked at him. Well, of course Thornden didn’t believe him, after the way he’d stormed out of the hall. Just thinking about it made Léof start feeling hot all over again. No. He must be the master of himself.

“I… I told the soldiers that I’d thought that Athanar might leave, once Eodwine came back,” Léof admitted. He suddenly felt foolish for having said it – he could have kept on avoiding the question. Or made something up. Anything. “I didn’t want to, but they just kept asking! Quin kept asking what I’d expected, and I didn’t know what to say anymore, so I told them the truth. I wasn’t trying to offend them, but they took it all the wrong way!” Léof took a deep breath. He didn’t want Thornden to think he was just throwing a temper-tantrum because he wasn’t getting what he wanted. But the soldiers had made him so angry. He had to tell someone, just to get it all off his chest. “They don’t listen to me, Thornden,” he said. “They treat me like… like I’m some kind of charity case that Eodwine kept on as a whim. They seem to think I ought to be grateful to Athanar for keeping me – and I am! But I’ve earned my place here, just as much as they have.”

[littlemanpoet]

"I have to convince Eodwine of what is right before I try to convince the king," Saeryn finished.

Rowenna grinned. "No, dear, I do not mean that you should ride off to the king this very day!" She laughed, coaxing a smile from Saeryn. "Let me see what I can learn and say and do. There is time."

"What will you do?" asked Saeryn.

"Oh, I will practice the wiley ways I learned among the brigands, to coax the thoughts from such men as seem to know a thing or two."

"I hope you do not mean to do anything," Saeryn murmured slowly, hesitantly, "that you will ... regret later, I mean ..." Saeryn left her thought unfinished, looking very uncomfortable, fiddling with the folds of her clothing.

"Oh! Have no fear," Rowenna said. "I shall not allow myself to be - um - besmirched, if that is what you mean. All that is in the past.

"Now, tell me, is there anything you have said to anyone, or done anything, that might raise suspicion? Is there anything besides what you said to Eodwine, about which we may have to cover our tracks?"

[Folwren]

Thornden

“They don’t listen to me, Thornden,” Léof said. “They treat me like… like I’m some kind of charity case that Eodwine kept on as a whim. They seem to think I ought to be grateful to Athanar for keeping me – and I am! But I’ve earned my place here, just as much as they have.”

“It sounds like they listened today,” Thornden began slowly, “and they just didn’t like what you said. It is well that you told them the truth, it is merely unfortunate that they did not like it.”

Thornden folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. He drew a deep breath and sighed. He considered a while before continuing, thinking of what he knew about Léof and what he knew about the men who had heard Léof say what he said.

“Scyrr took your comment as a slight towards Athanar,” he said. “I heard what he said to you as he left. Do you think that they were offended by what you said because they think you are yet young to be in this position as stable master? You are angry because they slighted you – not because they didn’t agree with you.

“I can understand their surprise, and in some instances, their disapproval of what you said. He had the letter from the king that made him eorl for good. For him to step down when Eodwine came would be like him or the king saying that Eodwine was the better man, and nothing that Athanar has done makes him worthy of staying.”

--

Saeryn

"Now, tell me,” Rowenna said, “is there anything you have said to anyone, or done anything, that might raise suspicion? Is there anything besides what you said to Eodwine, about which we may have to cover our tracks?"

Saeryn nodded, and then stopped suddenly. Her eyes got a little wide, and then she said, “Yes, I said something to Athanar.” Rowenna lifted her eyebrows.

“What did you say to him?”

“Something I probably should not have,” Saeryn admitted. “I told him that Eodwine should be eorl, not he, and I would do what I could to see that he was replaced.”

Rowenna's eyes went wide. "Oh!" Her hand went to her mouth, then came down again jerkily. "How did he answer you?"

Saeryn shrugged, before replying. "He didn't. I didn't give him a chance. I left him standing in the hall and came in here, shutting the door before he responded."

[Firefoot]

Léof relaxed as he listened to Thornden’s calm and measured reply. Thornden did not think him foolish or childish, and perhaps it had been silly of Léof to think that he would, since Thornden had always listened to him before.

“I would say instead that he has done nothing to make him more worthy than Eodwine,” said Léof. “I do not mind Athanar, but I do not like him either. He pays me little mind and has scarcely spoken to me in the last month, though I suppose he must know who I am.” He thought for a moment. “I’ll grant that the building of the hall has come along much faster than it did before he came, but I think that is more because he brought with him a great many soldiers to help out. When Athanar got here with the king’s letter, we all thought Eodwine was going to die. Now he’s not. I figured that might change things.” Leof shrugged. “I would not mind so much if all of the soldiers were more like you, or Garwine, or Quin. Instead..." He let the sentence trail off, not really sure how to describe how he felt about the soldiers. Some were deliberately rude or mean (how they'd talked about lady Saeryn!), but more of them were just... heedless. Inconsiderate. Arrogant - yes, that was it. "They think they're better than us."

[Folwren]

Thornden studied Léof carefully for several seconds. He heard what Léof said, but he also felt he knew more of what lay at the heart of Léof's frustration and anger. To address the words alone would do little good, but if he could speak directly to what was at the core, then perhaps something would be accomplished.

“Léof,” Thornden said quietly. He looked down at his boots a moment, considering his words carefully. What he was about to say was something his father had told him years ago, but he had never had to repeat it to anyone. He wasn’t sure how it would turn out, but he gave it his best attempt. “A man is not what other men think of him, but what he does and how he thinks and speaks. He may let other men’s opinion of him have an affect on how he acts, but it is not the other’s opinion that really makes him who he is.

“How you respond to the men is what will define you. They may act as though they were better than we who have been here before, but are they? If any one of us answers to their words or actions, whatever they may be, as though we believed we are less than they, then we become so. But if we do not respond – if we stay steady, knowing exactly who we are and what we’re here for – then we cannot be less than them.”

He paused, giving his words time to sink in, before he finished. “If you truly think you ought to be treated like a man, then act the way you think a man should act. Perhaps you are angry at them because you are not yet certain of your manhood yourself.”

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna stood and went over to the door, bent down, and peered through the keyhole for long moments. Finally she stood back up, sighed, and came back to Saeryn.

"Well, at least they haven't stationed a guard outside your door, as far as I can tell! You really must be much more careful what you say, especially to Athanar! But just as much to any of his men, especially those who report to him themselves. We will have to be more careful now. I think it would be best if you do not speak to Athanar at all unless he speaks to you first, and then answer only the question he asks. And don't speak to Wynflaed either, unless she talks to you. Try to keep things light and off the subject of who is eorl. Can you do that? But also, please lay low for a while. And talk to your husband! Patch things up with him. I know you that you will stand your ground on this, and that is good, but try not to say anything that will rankle him or raise suspicion. Can you do that, Saeryn? Please say yes, or else I won't be able to help you."

[Firefoot]

Léof wasn’t sure whether to take Thornden’s words as a lecture, a rebuke, or an encouragement. A lesson, maybe. It was not what Léof had expected; he had hoped that Thornden would simply agree with him and that they might commiserate together. But Thornden didn’t agree with the soldiers, did he? No, that wasn’t it. If Thornden had seemed at all upset or angry with him during the speech, Léof probably would have interrupted him then and there and stalked off. But he was not; quite the opposite.

“…If you truly think you ought to be treated like a man, then act the way you think a man should act. Perhaps you are angry at them because you are not yet certain of your manhood yourself.”

Well, that stung a bit. Léof’s first impulse was to respond with an angry retort, but he held it back. Was Thornden right? Was he letting the soldiers walk all over him? “Then… what was I supposed to do?” Léof asked, a little bit of defensiveness creeping into his tone. “Have I been doing something wrong? And what am I supposed to do now?”

[Folwren]

Saeryn listened to Rowenna until she had finished, but her face did not have a very submissive look on it. Indeed, by the time Rowenna had finished, the expression seemed more defiant than ever.

“I won’t skulk in the corners and act demure and like a lady-in-waiting, if that’s what you mean,” she said. “And as for raising suspicion – I’m going to tell Eodwine exactly what I’m going to do, just like I told Athanar. It’s no secret, what I want. And there’s no reason for it to be. Why do you want it to be so secretive? We’re in the right, Rowenna. Do you doubt that? If you doubt it, then don’t work with me. We don’t need to be afraid.”

[Folwren]

Thornden inwardly felt relieved. At least Léof had not gotten angry and completely shut himself up. A little defiance was good to see, too. It was something to work with, if it could be turned into effort.

“What were you supposed to do?” Thornden repeated, adjusting his shoulder on the door frame. He looked off to one side. “Have you been doing something wrong, and what are you to do now?”

He considered the three questions silently a moment. “I do not think talking about what you might have done differently will be much help. I do not think you actually did anything wrong in giving your opinion, and you did not assault Scyrr, which I believe you considered doing. The only thing you allowed to happen that you should not have was letting their comments get to you, but that will be answered by what you should do now.

“You are defensive about your status, and that causes you to be sensitive about what other men say. No one agrees entirely with everyone, Léof. You cannot take their disagreement as a slight or an insult. Now, clearly sometimes some men will mean it that way – like Scyrr today. But don’t stoop to his level and respond in the same fashion.

“So, I would say what you should do is be less afraid to put your opinion out and be more willing to answer other men’s criticism of it. Tell them why you think it, and don’t let them bully you into not expressing it.”

He shrugged. “Will that give you enough to think about and work on for now?” he asked.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna frowned. This was worse than she had feared. Not only was Saeryn unwilling to cooperate to protect herself from her own foolish words, it was as if she were going to walk about with a sign around her neck telling all that she was bent on having Athanar's title taken from him and given back to Eodwine.

"Saeryn, in Athanar's mind you have spoken open treason. According to the law of the Eorlings, he is eorl, right or wrong. You are lucky that he seems to have made light of your words. And you are lucky that he has not placed you under guard. For all we know, he has ordered at least one of his men to watch you. Do you not understand how your words would sound in his ears were he to take you seriously?"

Saeryn's expression only grew more defiant. She opened her mouth to speak it, and began to, but Rowenna came over and placed her finger to her own lips, as well as Saeryn's, which thankfully, Saeryn did not push away; but the defiance did not leave her face.

"You will not like what I am about to say, my dear. But I beg you to hear me, or I truly will not be able to help you. We live in a world of men. They make the rules. We live in a world of power. Those who have it do not give it up willingly. Though your cause may be -" Saeryn almost interrupted her, and Rowenna knew why. "Even though your cause is right, that means little to those who hold power. You have real hope though, because the Mark is not like Gondor where the king's word is law. You should know that in the Mark, the king's word is only as good as it is believed that his rule is just and good. His choices may be brought before his Thing, his Council. This is where your hope lies. You must be free to bring your - our cause before that body. But you cannot do that if you are not free to go where you will. I do not counsel you to stay in your room and hide, but to use your wits and say what is best said when it is best to say it.

"There, you have heard me. Do you see what I mean? Can you make it so that I can help you?"

[Folwren]

“I see what you mean,” Saeryn said slowly. “But I do not agree with you. However,” she said, quickly, when Rowenna looked about to try to persuade her further, “I will do my best to say as little as possible. Don’t expect me to lie, though, or to not say what I think about something.”

There was a slight pause. Saeryn stood up and went to the basin of water and washed her eyes. "What should we do now?" she asked as she dried her face on the towel. "Can we go downstairs?"

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna scowled. "Did I ask you to lie?" Her tone was suddenly harsh. "Is that what you think I am getting at? You misunderstand me!"

Her face settled into disappointment and coolness. The lids of her eyes lowered as she regarded Saeryn.

"You can go where you like, as can I, of course," she replied. "You did not say how you disagree. If you intend to speak as you have already to Athanar, I cannot help you. ... unless there is something you have in mind that I may do? I do not promise to do it, but I will listen."

[Firefoot]

“Yes, I should say so,” said Léof. He recalled suddenly Æthel tied outside her stall. “I ought to put my horse away,” he added.

“Good,” said Thornden, and he left.

Léof hung the bridle he was still holding back up, then paused for a moment to study the tack room. It wasn’t completely disorganized, but it was close. There were just so many horses stabled here now that Léof was no longer sure of which set of tack belonged to which rider and which horse belonged to each rider (though the horses themselves he had gotten to know well enough in the last month). The soldiers tended to look after their own horses, which meant that Léof had less work but also less control.

Yet he was responsible for the hoses here, all of the horses, as well as the stable equipment. So far, he had simply dealt with the disarray in silence, picking up after people when brushes were left lying about. Was it any wonder that the soldiers did not take him seriously or respect his authority in the stables? Leaving the tack room as it was for now, he turned and walked slowly back to Æthel. He chewed on his lip thoughtfully.

What he needed to do was lay down some ground rules. Small things, like putting equipment back where it belonged. He wondered if he could get a roster, too. Along with that could go some kind of check list, to make sure all the horses were fed and watered and bedded down regularly. He remembered one time that he and his sister had found a certain kind of chalky rock that they could write with – but he’d also need something to write on. Maybe Stigend or Garstan would have some ideas…

He untied Æthel and led her back to her stall, leaving her there after stroking her neck a couple of times and scratching her behind the ears. He needed to prove to the soldiers that his authority was good. They didn’t listen to him because his authority came from Eodwine. What if he went and talked to Athanar? Told him about the changes he wanted to make? Athanar could make the soldiers listen.

Was this the way that Thornden was trying to get him to think? What had he said again? Something about how others’ opinions didn’t make him who he was… that might be so, but their good opinion of him would make his job much easier. The idea of them having to listen to him rather than the other way around made him smile grimly. Yes, he would go and speak with Athanar. And hopefully Athanar would listen to him.

[Lhunardawen]

Ginna noticed that the soldiers had begun to fill the grounds. That meant breakfast was over. She was needed back in the kitchen.

"Ginna, I can talk with Harreld, if you like, see what this wall is that he thinks is in the way."

She looked up, but could not dare to face Eodwine, despite the kindness in his voice as he made his offer.

"If it would not be too much trouble, I would be grateful." Realising how insincere her words might appear with her face turned away, she ventured a glance at him and smiled briefly. "I- I must return to the kitchen. There is work to be done," she said, with a gesture towards the exiting men.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine could see how ill at east Ginna was, just asking for some help, as if she had not the right. His heart went out to her, as it usually did in such cases, and he wished he could step into the role of father to her and give her a hug that would tell her all would be well. But he hunched that Ginna would feel even less at ease if he did.

She was gesturing to the Hall, and maybe without her knowledge she was leaning and already moving toward it.

"It will not be any trouble. I would be honored, Lady Ginna, Randvér's Daughter, to do whatever I can for your good." He smiled, close-mouthed, and tipped his head forward by way of a bow. She was his equal now that he was not eorl, and it pleased him to treat her with this small honor. Maybe serving wench was her role here, but she was free born, and her service would not last forever.

"My - my thanks," she said, somewhat startled, and made off for the Hall. He did not watch her go, but turned to the smithy.

[Folwren]

To Saeryn, to remain silent when inside she screamed with injustice sounded like lying. She found Rowenna's tone offensive for a moment, and she held her tongue, lest she speak hastily and in anger.

"You did not say how you disagree. If you intend to speak as you have already to Athanar, I cannot help you. ... unless there is something you have in mind that I may do? I do not promise to do it, but I will listen."

"Perhaps you and I have different meanings of help," Saeryn replied. "What you have said concerning saying little to anybody and going to the king sounds like more scheming and working behind Athanar's and Eodwine's back then I choose to do. I asked for you help to me persuade Eodwine of our point of view. I told you, going to the king and asking him to reconsider is impossible unless Eodwine agrees with me. As you say, this is a world of men and their rule, and were I to do such a thing without his permission, I believe I would be subject to punishment of some kind."

Rowenna visibly relaxed. "Well then, at least we agree to first things first."

"Meaning, you agree that I should somehow convince Eodwine to agree with me. Yes, exactly. So just how are we to set about that?"

[Folwren]

"First," said Rowenna, "I think you must make peace with him about what happened between you in the Hall, and then persuade him."

Saeryn nodded. "I'm perfectly willing to make peace, if he's willing to see I'm right. And if he'll apologize about how he spoke of me to the ladies."

Rowenna stared at Saeryn in consternation. "So if he refuses to see that you're right, you'll keep fighting him?" Rowenna threw up her hands. "Saeryn, you're impossible! What if her never agrees? Will you keep fighting no matter what?"

"No, certainly, I won't keep fighting." Saeryn paused and knit her brows. She knew exactly how she would deal with it, acting calm and rather aloof until he saw her point, but she did not know exactly how she would tell Rowenna. "But he will see my point of view, I am sure."

"I had better let you do the talking, then. If there's a mess to clean up, I'll do my part. Lead on!"

Saeryn sent a skeptical look at Rowenna as she left the room ahead of her. "What mess do you think there will be to clean up?"

"That," answered Rowenna, following Saeryn out the door, "depends on what the two of you say to each other and what you're willing to listen to, I would wager." Rowenna closed the door behind her.

Saeryn walked ahead. "I doubt there will be much of a mess for you to clean up, then. We're going to be polite to each other, at least." She went down the stairs and opened the kitchen door. Kara and Frodides were the only ones there. "Besides," Saeyrn said, turning as Rowenna came in behind her. "He's not even here now, so the conversation shall be put off anyway."

[littlemanpoet]

When Eodwine approached the smithy he heard no smithying sounds coming from within. He opened the door and three heads turned to him: Harreld and Garreth, whom he had expected, and Falco Boffin, whom he had not - and whose presence explained, in part, the inactivity of the others.

"Greetings, Harreld and Garreth!" he said. "How are you both? Is Falco keeping you from your work?"

"No," said Garreth grinned broadly.

"Yes," said Harreld with a guilty grin.

"Well I never!" said Falco. "Eodwine, you have nerve! Do you really think the inactivity of these canny smiths must be all my fault?"

"Why of course! They are too hard working to cease for any other reason than to hear every last word you speak!" Eodwine had walked over to where Falco was sitting and clapped him on the back. Falco coughed.

"So what news is there?"

With that, the four regaled each other with all there was to be said and heard by each of them. As usual, Harreld spoke least and Falco most; but Garreth held his own. Good natured jibes flew in the midst of it all; the only thing missing was a pint over which to jab each other with the jibes. After a few minutes of this, they were interrupted for a few minutes by Thornden, about which business we must read elsewhere in due time. When Thornden took his leave, Eodwine coughed in his hand and then rubbed his aching cheek muscles to get the laughter out of them. He eyed each of them seriously.

"I do have somewhat about which to speak to Harreld. Should we go elsewhere?"

"Nay," said Harreld. "Anything you have to say to me can be heard by my brother and Falco here."

"Are you sure, seeing it has to do with a woman?"

"Oh ho!" said Falco, his interest piqued.

"Now then," said Garreth gruffly, his brow furrowing, "if it's about women, all the more need that I should stay and hear, for someone had better be here to speak the hard truth about 'em."

"What hard truths do you mean?" Eodwine asked.

"That they're all the same danger. Grabbers! Twisters! You can't trust 'em any farther than you can throw 'em."

Eodwine winced. "I hope you have not practiced the art of throwing women, Garreth?"

"What? No! I've throwed no women, though there's one I'd like to if I ever saw her again, the blackheart."

"Ah. You have had some experience lately?" asked Eodwine.

"That I have! Can't trust 'em. Why do you think I was so quick to come here? All I needed was an invitation once Edreda ruined my business and standing in Edoras! I could -" he lapsed into mutterings too hard to make out, apparently unwilling to describe aloud what degree of torture he was ready to inflict upon the woman.

"Well, Harreld," said Eodwine, "are you sure you want to talk here?"

"Aye, here is fine, and I would guess 'tis Ginna you would talk about, is that it?"

"No doubt another blackheart," Garreth grated.

"Now now!" cried Falco. "Let's give the thing a fair hearing before deciding the heart of anyone!"

"Good words, Falco," said Eodwine. "As a matter of fact, it is Ginna I came to talk about."

[Folwren]

When Leof had left Thornden to take action on his words, Thornden decided that it was high time he found Eodwine and greeted him home again. He went first to the kitchen, and found that Eodwine had just left with Ginna not five minutes ago. On his way out, he ran into Ginna, who told him that Eodwine had probably gone to the smithy to speak with Harreld. That caused Thornden to pause a minute, wondering if Eodwine had just spoken with Ginna and was going to go speak with Harreld now, perhaps he had better not interrupt, as he guessed what topic would be spoken of. It was no secret (and especially no secret to him) that Ginna's and Harreld's relationship had never been the same since that letter arrived from her father. Although he had never found out anything more about it since Saeryn told him not to pursue it, he had noticed a distinct separation of the two and he did not like it. He hoped that Eodwine would be able to solve this problem.

He decided that he would risk interrupting him, as he did not need to speak to Eodwine long in order to greet him, and as Eodwine could be hours speaking with Harreld, Thornden did not feel he had hours to wait. So he went at once to the smithy and knocked on the doorpost.

He was hailed to come in and did so, finding both smiths and Eodwine - and Falco - talking a lot and smithying not at all.

"Thornden! I have not had a chance to greet you yet!" cried Eodwine. "Well met indeed!" He came over and offered his hand.

"Welcome back, sir," Thornden said, grinning and grasping his arm firmly. "I am glad to see you back again, when none of us really thought you'd ever. . ." he paused a moment, still smiling. "You look better than you did when you came in. Are you happy with things as they are?"

Eodwine laughed. "That's subtly put, Thornden. Maybe it's too early to tell. That may be the best answer I can give, for now. However, there may be a thing or two that could use some looking into, but that's neither here nor there. How have you been faring?"

"Not badly at all, my lord." He did not even realize he had said it, and went on. "For myself, not much was changed. I am in much the same position as I was when you left. Honestly, it has been hardest watching out for Saeryn."

"That I can believe!" Eodwine allowed himself to think but not say, 'the little trouble maker'. He would have to deal with that soon enough. "But I am telling you, as often as my friends are calling me 'my lord' by mistake, I'm going to have to come up with something suitably demeaning to be lord of!"

"You can be lord of dung!" Falco said helpfully.

"Or lord of broken ladels!" offered Garreth.

"How about lord of kitchen messes?" Harreld laughed, not realizing how close he'd come to accurately describing how things had gone between himself and Saeryn.

"Lord of the three oafs, I should say!" Eodwine gave back lightly. "But seriously, Thornden, is there something I should know in regard to my wife?"

Thornden, who had stood by looking quite bewildered during the flury of jesting, immediately came back to seriousness. "I don't know if there is anything in particular, I just know that she took Athanar's coming very hard. I was concerned for her reaction and emotions as well as the men's respect of her, for, being the woman of the house without her husband who used to be lord, she was made the brunt of many demeaning words. She had your child to think of, and I believe some sort of arrangement was come to in regard to that."

Eodwine grew serious. "I wish I had known of this sooner. It may explain some things. This has been harder on her than I had allowed myself to think. But you said arrangement regarding the child. Of this I have not heard. What does it mean?"

"Athanar took Saeryn under his guardianship, as a daughter, and he intends to give the title to her child, if he is male. That, at least, is how I understood the agreement."

"Oh. I see." Eodwine frowned. "I must give that some thought."

"Well, lor - I mean my friend - we can talk at length later. I will not keep you from the three oafs you lord over any longer." Thornden grinned and waved before leaving them.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld sighed. "Say away."

"She and I have spoken," Eodwine said. "She tells me that a letter from her father has made you change your mind, that you cannot wed."

"That is the way of it."

"How is it that Ginna sees it differently than you?"

"She seeks her will around Eorling ways. I cannot do that. Her father has spoken his will. He is her lord. I cannot gainsay him, and he refuses me her hand." As if that were the end of it, Harreld turned away and picked up a pair of tongs.

"What if her father is wrong?"

Harreld looked at him. "What matter that? It is still his word, and he is her lord. There is no more to be said and you know it."

"Any woman who refuses her father's will is not be trusted," Garreth threw in.

"Garreth," said Eodwine firmly, "you do not know Ginna."

[littlemanpoet]

"Harreld," said Eodwine, continuing, "I have a question."

"Ask it."

"When Théoden was king and Saruman and Sauron threatened war from both sides, and Wormtongue spoke evil counsel to the king, Eomer was banished from Edoras and told not to allow any foreigners into Rohan, not to disobey his lord. What did he do?"

Harreld grew uncomfortable. The answer was obvious enough to every man and hobbit in the smithy, and all knew it. He studied the tongs a bit, then turned to Eodwine angrily.

"But that was war! All our lives were in gravest danger! Eomer did what had to be done."

"It did not look that way at the time to many. Some saw him as traitor because he did not follow Eorling ways. Instead, he followed his heart, what he thought was the better choice. We all know too well that if not for Eomer's choices, Saruman would have captured the two holbytlan, the whereabouts of the Ringbearer would probably have become known to the dark lord, and we would now be living under evil slavery and you would not even be considering whether to wed Ginna. Is it not so?"

"Aye, 'tis so. But-"

"Ack! Another but!" cried Falco good naturedly.

Harreld grinned. "I cannot help it. Should the Eorl ... of oafs persuade me then all questions must be asked, or I will have doubts all my days." He faced Eodwine. "You are telling me that there are times when a lord should be disobeyed because he is wrong. Is that not your wisdom to me?"

"Aye."

"Tell me this, then. How am I so strongly to know that Randvér is wrong so that I may wed Ginna?"

"Do you love each other?"

"Ack! Love! It is all nonsense!" cried Garreth. "There is no such thing. Women do not love their men, they only seek to leash them and use them for themselves. And men do not love women either. They have no other way to carry on their names."

"Garreth," said Harreld, "you do not know yourself or you would not say such foolery."

"Ach! You are hopeless, Harreld!"

"Hopeless Harreld," echoed Falco with a laugh. "It has a ring to it."

"Yes, Eodwine, we do love each other. Of that I am sure. But what of it? 'Tis not enough to build a marriage on."

"Though it is a good start," Eodwine answered, "you are right. So answer this further question. If nothing stood in your way, is there any woman you would rather bind yourself to than Ginna?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Harreld's voice became gruff. "Without her I am half dead, half a man. She makes me more than I am." His eyes shone.

"And I say to you this," Eodwine smiled gravely. "Randvér will discover, some day, that he has gained in you a son beyond compare. Marry her. Be whole."

"Hear hear!" said Falco, raising his pipe as if it were a pint of mead.

"If you need a woman to be a whole man," growled Garreth, "then you were less than half a man to begin with."

"You are daft and a fool, Garreth," Harreld said. "Eodwine, I will think on your words, and I will think about what you have helped me see is in my heart and in my thought. And I will think on what it means to follow and step away from the Eorling way. When I have done thinking on these things, I will make a choice. I hope it will be my final choice."

"Let it be so," Eodwine said. "I trust it will be a good choice. And now, Garreth, let's hear more about this evil woman who ruined your livelihood and your life!"

[Gwathagor]

The sun was already high when Crabannan blinked and opened his eyes for what felt like the first time in years.

He'd slept in.

[Gwathagor]

Crabannan pushed back the flaps of his tent and glanced around. He seemed to be alone. Satisfied, he crawled out, boots in hand. He'd grown reclusive over the past few months, pitching his tent in the woods outside of camp, appearing only for meals, to which he would contribute a string of rabbits or the occasional stag. Things had been unsteady in Scarburg since Eodwine had gone east and the new eorl had moved in, rocking the metaphoric boat with his great clunking steps and his heavy-handed ways. Crabannan's solution was to get out of the boat. So he kept to himself. Stayed out of trouble. Stayed away from the eorl's sons.

Wulfric and Wilheard will still be at board, he thought as he pulled on his boots. He looked up at the sun. They'd be there until about noonday, so he'd have to wait until then to break his own fast. He ambled over and dunked his head in the stream. Then he stood, shook the water from his shaggy hair, and ambled towards the Burg.

Despite being (or perhaps because they were) lazy, belligerent louts who had taken a marked, fervent dislike to Crabannan, Wulfric and Wilheard were also highly predictable and he had learned to order his days around where they would be and when. It would come to blows eventually, he knew, but for the present he was content to not be thrown from Scarburg for bashing the eorl's sons cross-eyed.

Not yet.

And I have other reasons for keeping to myself, he reflected. He passed through the rows of tents that housed many of the workers and soldiers and headed for the kitchen. He took his time.

[Firefoot]

As the discussion over the breakfast table broke up at Coenred's bidding, Scyld also excused himself from the table. He paid little attention to the interplay between Scyrr and Léof – Scyld already knew Scyrr to be a troublemaker and Léof to be over-sensitive. An amusing combination, really, but Scyld was more interested now in the reactions of those he knew less well.

Much of the hall was nearing completion, but still some projects remained. Scyld knew that several of the soldiers would be outside working on the shelter for the sheep pen, so he too headed in that direction. What might the soldiers be saying out of earshot of the original Scarburgians and the authorities? Of course, Scyld himself came originally from Eodwine's household, but he had shown himself sympathetic to the new soldiers. Scyld had learned early on that it was best not to take sides before it was clear which side would win out.

The air outside was brisk and cold; though the sun was shining, it gave off little heat so late in the year. Once he began working, though, Scyld knew he would warm up. He wasn't sure what he would do once the hall was finished. Sorn seemed scarcely remembered here, not even a year after Eodwine's household had moved in. He scarcely knew what he was doing now. Prying, information gathering – but for what? The stakes were hardly so high now as they once had been. He shrugged off that dismal train of thought as he approached the half-finished sheep pen. One could never know too little.

Several soldiers were just beginning work as he arrived: Hilderinc, Aforglaed, Quin, and Hylath. “Good morning,” he said as he walked up, though he had already seen a couple of them at breakfast. The soldiers greeted him in return, and Scyld fell into work beside them. After a few minutes, he found himself standing next to young Quin. Judging from breakfast, Scyld thought he might be the easiest to get talking. “Bit of a shocker what Léof said about Athanar leaving, wasn't it?” he asked.

[littlemanpoet]

After a long conversation regarding women as the ruination of men's lives, Eodwine and Falco left the Smith brothers to their work. At first the cold was refreshing after the extended heat of the smithy. It did not take long for the wind to find gaps in their clothing, tickling their skin with its frosty fingers. By the time they got back to the Hall, they were trotting and patting their crossed arms. Into the Hall they came.

The men at arms had emptied from the Hall and the women had just about finished the cleaning. They saw Saeryn and Rowenna near the kitchen. Eodwine's stomach turned, recalling what had almost happened between himself and his new wife, and worse, what had indeed happened. The noise of their entrance had alerted the women to the presence of the Man and Hobbit, and Saeryn was looking at her husband. Eodwine could not read her expression from the other end of the Hall, but he did not see a smile.

He crossed the distance wordlessly, the Hobbit close behind.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

“Bit of a shocker what Léof said about Athanar leaving, wasn't it?”

Hilderinc looked up from his work at Nydfara. He wasn't at the breakfast anymore when the incident happened, so he had no idea what the man was talking about.

"Athanar leaving? What about Athanar leaving?" he asked, puzzled. Did Eodwine's coming actually change something? Was Athanar supposed to leave?

"No, it was that stableboy, you know, Hilderinc," Áforglaed chimed in eagerly using a tone as if he was narrating a very funny story. "He made Scyrr lose his temper once again, and no surprise about that-"

"Not indeed," muttered Hilderinc quietly and stabbed his axe into the piece of wood he had been cutting.

"-I think he really should watch his mouth. I tell you, I'm just going to see Scyrr beating him up one day if he doesn't watch his mouth! Seriously, I don't know what he was thinking, assuming their lord will take his place again once he's back-"

"There is no their lord," Hilderinc interrupted him with a note of annoyance in his voice. Here we go again, he thought. Exactly as one might have expected. People always behave the same. "You should have acknowledged that a month ago, Áforglaed. There is no 'them' anymore, and there is only one lord here as far as I am aware, and that is Athanar. So as you see," he raised the axe again, "there is neither 'their', nor 'lord'. I think most of us already know that. Look, even-" he couldn't remember the man's name for a second, so he used the moment to swing the axe, "-even Nydfara here is working alongside us, even though he remembers Eodwine, right? So you should cut it off."

Áforglaed looked a bit offended, but only muttered something under his breath and turned towards Nydfara.

"Well, I wonder what is this Eodwine going to do here anyway, since he's no eorl anymore," he added.

[Folwren]

Saeryn stopped Rowenna with a hand upon her arm, freezing like a deer caught unawares. Rowenna stopped and turned to look.

“There he is,” Saeryn whispered. Her heartbeat quickened a moment. “Now that it comes to it, I don’t know if I’m ready to talk to him.”

Eodwine and Falco began walking towards them. Saeryn turned away, and gripped Rowenna’s hand. “What should I do?”

“Stay calm and remember what we just talked about. You are in the right and must convince him that is so,” Rowenna coached her calmly.

Saeryn nodded. She drew a deep breath and then she lifted her chin and turned to face Eodwine as he came close to them.

“Hello, Eodwine. I guess you’ve been seeing everyone. A lot has changed here, has it not?”

[Gwathagor]

Crabannan sidled up to the wood-cutters, hands jammed in his belt, whistling an northern air.

"Morning," he said to no one in particular. They were talking and he did not really care if they paid attention to him or not. It was Hilderinc, Aforglaed, some other soldiers -- and that odd quiet one, Nydfara.

Odd and quiet! I'm one to talk, thought Crabannan. He looked around for an axe and, seeing none to spare, began to gather up the wooden rails the men were cutting.

"Well, I wonder what is this Eodwine going to do here anyway, since he's no eorl anymore," Aforglaed was saying.

Crabannan paused. This struck him as wrong.

"A good man like Eodwine stripped of authority for falling ill? Not likely."

He began to march away with his shoulderload of wood, heading for the site of the new sheep-shed.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Áforglaed turned his head after Crabannan. "Now what -" he started as the man trotted out of sight. "What was that? Did you hear him? Did he and the stableboy gang up with each other? What's wrong with people today?"

"I was just about to ask the same," mumbled Hilderinc half to himself, looking after Crabannan quizzically.

"These guys just seem to have some delusions of whatever-" Áforglaed continued, but Hilderinc interrupted him by poking him with a piece of cut wood.

"Here," he said. "Do something instead of just talking and help Crabannan carrying these away. And you can tell him to fetch an axe for himself, in fact, you can go with him and bring more tools. We are going to need some more anyway, maybe if you can find a saw or two..."

"He's mad," Áforglaed said, standing still.

"Maybe he just does not understand the way things really are," Hilderinc tried to keep his voice calm, even though in reality, the whole situation started to annoy him. I should have known better, an old voice started to sound in his head. Men are not capable of learning. Show them the illusion of a forgotten lord, who is unable to rule, yet they will start expecting miracles from him, whereas the reality is completely different. The worst thing about it is that Áforglaed is right, these old Scarburgians seem to be mad, but they will find out their mistake, sooner or later. You cannot ride against the wind for too long. But we cannot let the division start again. And that's why I cannot agree with Áforglaed openly and support any classification of "us" and "them".

He saw Crabannan returning for more wood to carry.

"I had to bring Eodwine here when he came," he said aloud, making sure also Crabannan hears it. "He is not really fit to do anything. I had to keep him in the saddle. Anyway, he has pleaded his loyalty to lord Athanar now. There is no talk of stripping of authority, it was Eodwine himself who chose it."

Hilderinc once again took up his axe.

"And that," he said, "is what really matters, right?"

[littlemanpoet]

“Hello, Eodwine. I guess you’ve been seeing everyone. A lot has changed here, has it not?”

Saeryn was looking at him as if at a stranger. Her shoulders were high, here face was tight, her eyes were intense, as if she were spoiling for a fight. Eodwine's tongue moved in his mouth as if it had a mind of its own, trying to find some way of escape from what he might say. He could not seem to relax his own demeanor. His mouth was tight, his own shoulders high. This was not good.

"Much," he said simply. "Come, please, to our rooms, just you and me."

He stopped a pace from her, raised his arm in a gesture indicating that she should lead the way. Their eyes were locked, mouths closed and lips narrowed. Eodwine was sure that every single cook, serving wench, hobbit, and woman recently from the Folde, could see that a fight was brewing. He hoped against hope that it could be set aside and the two of them could speak to each other calmly.

And she had better not insist that we talk right here, he thought.

[Firefoot]

“Just so,” said Scyld. It would be beneficial, Scyld had decided, to seem agreeable to Hilderinc. Although Hilderinc held no formal position among Athanar's soldiers (not that Scyld was aware of, anyway), he seemed to carry with him a kind of unofficial authority nonetheless. He gave orders, and others listened, as the interaction between him and Aforglaed showed. And whether because of particular loyalty to Athanar or just a natural tendency to abide by rules or ideals, Hilderinc seemed committed to the unification of Scarburg, which was what everyone who actually had any authority also wanted.

That being said, Scyld doubted that Hilderinc would hold much with fugitives, so he had best be wary. Not that he wasn't anyway, but it was never bad to remind himself.

“I can't say what Eodwine plans to do with himself now,” continued Scyld affably, picking up from Hilderinc's earlier question, “but he was always just as willing as the next man to put in a hard day's work.” He paused for another chop of the axe. “Though, as you say, he doesn't seem fit for any sort of labor right now, much less hard labor. My guess is that he'll stay long enough to recover, and for Saeryn to have her baby, and then who knows?” He swung the axe again. “Still. That's a whole winter of everyone being all penned up together. Hopefully folk get their differences sorted out quick, or it'll be a long couple of months, with more than just Scyrr and the stablelad spoiling for a fight.”

[Folwren]

Saeryn should have known Eodwine’s thoughts as well as he guessed hers, but she was not bent on understanding him now and she did not care to guess that he pre-empted her forth-coming request.

Saeryn did not desire to go alone to their rooms. She thought that she would stand more chance if Rowenna were with her, knowing that in her she had an ally. Alone, Eodwine would be less likely to listen. She thought she understood men. They were stronger and more overbearing than a woman, even in arguments of words and not of physical strength. They did not like listening to women telling them they ought to do, and as Saeryn was Eodwine’s wife, of course he would expect her to submit. But perhaps with Rowenna there, he would see that Saeryn was perhaps right.

“Might we not stay here, where Rowenna at least can be with us?”

[Folwren]

Quin hadn’t said anything during the conversation about Eodwine. He worked silently, trying to make heads and tails of the situation. Finally, he spoke, when Nydfara again suggested that Léof's words almost started a fight.

“I don’t think you’re being fair to the others,” he said to both Áforglaed and Nydfara. “You haven’t tried to look at it from their point of view. Léof wasn’t showing any disrespect when he said what he did this morning. I know some of you think so, but I don’t. I was surprised, but not because I thought he was being disrespectful.”

“That’s just ‘cause you’ve taken a liking to him,” Áforglaed said with something of a jeer.

“So?” Quin replied. “That doesn’t change anything. He’s never caused anybody any trouble, why do you think he’d start now?”

“I didn’t expect it. That’s just it. But he shouldn’t have said what he did.”

“Why not?” Quin replied sharply. He looked at Hilderinc for confirmation as he said, “What would you think if Athanar was replaced in the same manner than Eodwine was? You wouldn’t like it any more than these people have, and no one would call you mad if you pointed out the unjustness of it.”

[littlemanpoet]

“Might we not stay here, where Rowenna at least can be with us?”

What was this? Was his own wife afraid of him? Was this because he had almost struck her? Did she think he was likely to strike her if they were alone? He felt shamed. He was sorry it had happened, and was surprised that it had. Why did I almost strike my wife?

He sighed heavily. If they stayed here, he would not say some things he would otherwise. Why did Saeryn want Rowenna near? As an eye witness? An ally?

Saeryn was waiting for an answer. He sighed again.

"Then Falco shall remain with us as well, if he is willing."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc caught himself nodding slightly in approval as Nydfara spoke. Seems like a sensible man, he thought. At least he seems to understand that people need to work together if only because they have to share the same roof. He noted to himself that this man - whom he originally had not been paying much attention to during the previous month, as he didn't seem to stand out in any special way - might be a good person to have around and one who would hopefully act as a good example of cooperation or a voice of reason among the old Scarburgians. Potentially, an ally if some trouble appeared.

Then Quin started to speak in defence of "the stablemaster", as Hilderinc had not ceased to call him. Hilderinc wasn't surprised, he had known about the friendship among the two for a long time. Quite understandably, them being of basically the same age and, seemingly, both a bit on the edge of the group of "adult men" otherwise present at Scarburg and in original Athanar's company.

"What would you think if Athanar was replaced in the same manner than Eodwine was? You wouldn’t like it any more than these people have, and no one would call you mad if you pointed out the unjustness of it."

Hilderinc noticed Quin looking at him, probably in expectation of approval. He wasn't too sure about fully agreeing with the boy, after all, Hilderinc wasn't there when Léof had said whatever he had said, so he couldn't judge how offensive his words might or might not have been. But it was necessary to stress the important points for Áforglaed.

"Quin is right, Áforglaed," he said aloud. "I wouldn't say there's anything unjust about Athanar replacing Eodwine, but even if it wasn't entirely reasonable, our stablemaster in his youth had a good reason to be upset. That's just a reminder for those more mature of us to act more sensibly, isn't it?" he finished calmly, looking at Áforglaed. "And I think in time, Léof will realise it as well. Eodwine's condition did not allow him to be the eorl anymore and that's where Athanar came in. If Athanar now became ill it would be the same. This Hall needs an eorl - one eorl at a time. The King has decided that it will be Athanar. What is unjust about that?"

[Firefoot]

Scyld shrugged. “Neither just nor injust, I would say. If justice were the only force in this world, Eodwine would not have fallen sick in the first place and the king would not have to choose between two able leaders. But alas, fate is a fickle mistress.” But inside, he was thinking, Let their fathers sell them away and let them serve under a man such as Sorn, and then perhaps they will understand injustice. It reminded him of Linduial; she too had used words like “just” and “right.” And in her world, in this world, perhaps there was room for ideals... but it only showed how little these soldiers understood of the world, if they thought Athanar's rule was an injustice.

Quin seemed about to speak up again, but Scyld kept talking. “But I forgot,” he said to Quin, “that you left the hall before Scyrr and Léof nearly came to blows. I would not call either of them 'mad,' as you say, for what they think, but he certainly did look as though he were spoiling for a fight. Or at least, easily provoked to one. It is well that he remembered that Scyrr is probably twice his weight and a trained fighter – though, before you speak in Leof's defense, Scyrr would do well to remember that it is not his place to bully others around. And it is not my place to reprimand either of them.”

[Firefoot]

As Léof strode determinedly into the hall, set on finding Athanar, he was stopped short by a sight that momentarily drove all thoughts of his task from his mind. Were Saeryn and Eodwine fighting? It certainly looked that way. Even from several yards off, he could see that both of them were drawn up tight as drums, like captains of battling armies staring each other down across the field, Rowenna and Falco arrayed behind them like their respective cavalries.

How could this be? After Saeryn had so recently and so recklessly rode out after her returning husband, this was the last thing Léof had expected. And not only were they fighting, they seemed to be bringing their friends into it as well. Léof was no expert on marriage, not even close, but even to him that boded ill. It seemed to him that a man and wife ought to settle their differences privately, yet here they were, practically in the middle of the hall, with all kinds of folk staring on. He was so surprised that it did not even occur to him that he was now one of those folk.

[Gwathagor]

Al this high talk was getting the better of Crabannan. Who did this rabble think they were? He slammed his axe into a stump.

"Justice?!" he exclaimed. "What would a mob of Rohirrim know of justice and fate and maturity? These are eastern words, scholars' words. I know you have fought there - but words overheard in a tavern 15 years ago do not make you a royal minister, Hilderinc! Let someone who has lived in Gondor speak of justice. Justice is not what the king commands, it is life. It is life and blood and breath to the people, that which need to keep them alive through good and ill! And these people need Eodwine - I can see it in their hearts and eyes. He understands them in a way that your Athanar never will! Leof may be young, but at least he has not been so tainted by your so-named maturity that he cannot see this."

Crabannan took a deep breath and jerked his axe free, swinging it back and forth idly.

"I've said more than I meant to. I am no kingmaker or man of learning, but I've traveled much and lived under many rulers, good and bad alike. Nor am I a stranger to your own people."

He began to chop again. Loudly.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc stopped and gazed at Crabannan.

"Royal minister!" he laughed roaringly. "Indeed, no, that's what I would not like to be, Crabannan! Did you hear what he said?" He looked around at the others. Áforglaed looked back at him, puzzled. The others were also stirred by the sudden outburst, including Crabannan, as Hilderinc's roar could not have gone unnoticed by him.

"Let me tell you something, my untainted friend," Hilderinc turned towards Crabannan, his expression unusually agitated. "I am not repeating words from taverns, perhaps unlike you, but even though I haven't been to Gondor, I know what people need! People need a lord who understands them, yes! But they need maturity as well! They need it more than they need a lord who only pats their heads and is being nice, or..." Words failed him in the middle of the unprepared speech. "Whatever," he finished, not sure how to continue. He had never been good with words and this rather emotional response to Crabannan's not less emotional outburst had caught him completely unprepared.

But Áforglaed shook his head and backed away from Hilderinc somewhat, as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Whatever happened to him," he muttered quietly to those close to him, "I swear I never heard him laugh since I have met him. I thought he never laughs aloud. In fact I have never seen him shouting, have you..."

"What I meant to say," Hilderinc came to himself a bit, but felt his face turning red, "was that people need a good lord. But they also have to be able to recognise a good lord from a bad one, and dreams and wishful thoughts won't help them to do it right."

Now he was again speaking almost calmly, only his voice was trembling a bit after the unexpected outburst. He looked back at the others, being well aware of his own blushing face.

[Folwren]

Saeryn looked down at Falco and hesitated. Then, finally, she nodded. “If you like,” she said. She glanced about. People were moving slowly, with unnatural quietness, sending covertly obvious glances towards them. Some, like Leof, stood openly staring.

“I am willing that we go up to our rooms with them,” she said, her voice quiet.

Eodwine hesitated for long moments. He was trygin to find the best thing to say, and many choices flitted through his mind before he hit upon one. Faclo and the others grew restive. Finally, he followed Saeryn's lead and kept his voice low.

"I do not need others with us in our rooms, and would that it were just you and me. But if you would like them with ..."

Saeryn took that as a consent and without another word, turned and stiffly led the way up to their chamber. Saeryn entered first, her head high and her back rigid. Somehow, even with Rowenna there as she had requested, she still felt she would not win the argument and it would be a hard and possibly futile task. She turned, and faced about as Eodwine entered last and shut the door.

[littlemanpoet]

As they walked toward their rooms, Saeryn in front followed by Rowenna, then Falco, and Eodwine bringing up the rear, he tried to put together in his mind what he wanted to say, what needed to be said. He knew what must come first. He came through the door and waited for the other three to situate themselves as comfortably as they might, then closed the door. Saeryn was waiting for him to speak. He was surprised that he was able to speak as calmly as he did. Only his final question hinted at his consternation and shock that she would so baldly flout his will.

"I am sorry that I raised my hand against you, Saeryn. I make no excuse. Maybe my illness weakened me so that my hand rose to do what I would never do. But I was angry when you called me eorl not long after I made it as clear as I knew how that I am not here to be eorl. Why did you gainsay me before the women?"

[Folwren]

Saeryn heard his first words without any change of expression in her face and eyes. It was well that he apologized, but it did not change what had happened. But when he asked for an explanation for her words, her face flushed a hot red. She wouldn’t allow him to tell her to explain herself and apologize now - not before Falco and Rowenna, even if it was by her request that they were there. She would not be degraded again, as she had been before the women.

“I said what I did because I believe that it should be so, and it would be so if all were as it should be. You were their eorl when you left, and now that you have returned, you still should be. Athanar could not stay if everyone recognized you as their true lord. If by my words I gainsaid you, it was because I could see no other way to show you how I trully felt."

[littlemanpoet]

It was a small room for two, very small for four to holding conference. Saeryn was standing on the other side of their bed, Rowenna to her right; both women were watching him, waiting for him to respond. Falco had propped himself against a wooden chest against the wall, fiddling with his pipe, casting his glance between the other three, apparently gauging each of them; he said nothing.

Eodwine suddenly felt exhausted. Maybe he had overdone it with Ginna and the smiths. He felt shaky again.

"I must sit down," he said simply. He lowered himself to the bed, trying not to turn his back to any of them. All three of them were now to his right and he had to turn his head to look at any of them. It felt like too much effort, so he let his gaze fall where it would, mainly upon the empty corner of the room between the door and Falco.

"Saeryn, done is done. Even if I wanted to be eorl - and I do not - the king's word is my bond. He commanded me and I gave him my word that I would do his will. So I am bound also by the bond of my word to both Eomer, and now to Athanar as well. 'Tis done. You may feel, of course, how you wish about it. Would you have me go back on my word?"

[Folwren]

“I would have you go back to the king and plead your case before him. Remind him that you have done only what he desired of you, and have not disobeyed or done anything worthy of being replaced. I believe King Eomer will not wish to act unjustly, and if presented with this way of looking at the problem, perhaps he will see that he has been wrong.”

There. She had said what she needed to say. She had said it bluntly, swiftly, and without pre-meditating her words very much. She twisted one hand in the other and looked at Eodwine.

“Let me go, Eodwine,” she said, her voice softening some as she hoped he would listen to her. “You are tired and still unwell. Let me go and plead our case before the king.”

[littlemanpoet]

So it was justice that she sought. She felt wronged, for herself and for him. It was understandable. She was pleading now. He sighed again, sadness taking over. He looked at her, saw again the woman with whom he had fallen in love.

"Saeryn, my dear, I do not seek justice. I do not want to be eorl. I want nothing but you and our baby, and our friends. What do I care for changing the mind of the king? The eorldom means nothing to me. Less than nothing. Set it aside. Let it go. You have me back. Do you really need 'lord' in front of my name to be happy?"

[Folwren]

Saeryn looked at Rowenna, recalling her words, “Saeryn, what does Eodwine want?” And here was her answer, in terms as plain as day. His last query stung.

“No, Eodwine,” she said, looking down a moment, and then looking back up at him. “A thousand times, no. You know that; you must know that.” She walked towards him as she spoke. “I did not grow to love you because you were a lord. And I will love you and be happy even if you are not.” She stopped and stood by him. She tried to find words to explain herself and her need, but she didn’t know how. Instead of words, tears came, and she hated her weakness. She stood silent and stiff, saying nothing as one huge tear after another rolled down her face.

“I don’t know why this is so important to me,” she finally managed to say. “I don’t know why – why it is such. . .Eodwine, if you had been here. . .if you could have seen. . .” She looked him in the eye. “I’ve been so unhappy since you have been gone and since Athanar has been lord. I thought you were going to die, and our baby-” She could not continue. A huge, impassable lump in her throat rendered her speechless.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna

This whole conversation had started personal, and kept getting more so. Rowenna was getting uncomfortable. At the same time, both Saeryn and Eodwine rose in her esteem. She felt a lump forming in her own throat. She felt like throwing herself on both of them and sobbing. It was time to get out of there. She swallowed hard and refused to let her eyes get wet. She glanced at Falco who glanced back. She motioned for the two of them to leave. He scrunched up his nose and nodded in a way that said silently to her, 'yes, that's a good idea, let's go'. They left the room. When they had closed the door, she let out stressed out sigh.

"I don't need that every day."

"No, let 'em work it out by themselves. You and me, I think we both could use a pint or two. Shall we?"

Rowenna laughed. It was funny to think of sharing a pint - or two - in the morning with a Hobbit, but right now she felt game for at least one and said so. He grinned back at her as he lit his pipe.

Eodwine

Eodwine looked up at Saeryn and listened to her. A lump came into his own throat as he watched the tears slide down her face. His heart went out to her, yet again. Then words failed her. He noticed that Falco and Rowenna made themselves scarce, and was grateful. He took Saeryn by the waist and drew her down beside him; she did not resist.

"I'm back. I'm here. Only death itself will ever take me from you again, and not for a long time if I can help it. I know, I understand that this has been hard on you, that you have been demeaned and worse while I've been gone, that you have borne much that you should not have had to. I wish I could take it all away, but it is in the past. Let me husband you now."

Falco

Falco liked Rowenna. She was a little different than most Big People, and most women too, for that matter. There was more going on behind her eyes than with most Big People, even more than Eodwine, maybe. He liked that. They sat down at a table and he ordered a pint for each of them, which Ginna brought with a mild look of surprise on her face, not in regard to Falco, but that Rowenna would join him.

"Do you want some food to go with that?" she asked them both, but was looking at Rowenna.

"Some bread and meat would be good," Falco answered. Ginna waited for Rowenna to gainsay him and finding that she did not, she went off to the kitchen.

"What think you of their disagreement?" Rowenna broached.

Falco grinned. It was just what he had wanted to talk about. He took a swallow at his pint and then puffed at his pipe before answering. "Believe it or not, I agree with Saeryn. Eodwine should be eorl, and of more than those two oafs in the smithy."

Rowenna laughed. "If you hope to agree with me, you don't. I've changed my mind. I think Eodwine is right."

"Oh do you now!" Falco licked the stem of his pipe with relish. A spirited debate ensued, both opponents thoroughly enjoying it under the watchful eyes of Ginna, Frodides, and the others; not that they seemed to fear a fight breaking out between this odd pair. Maybe it was that these women in the kitchen wondered at this young woman with the fetching looks who seemed to have a man's brain in her head, not to mention a man's aggressiveness in the way she leaned into the debate. One just never knew about these things.

[Lhunardawen]

Ginna's eyes watched Rowenna and Falco bicker and laugh (sometimes at the same time), but her mind wandered elsewhere. Outside the Hall, in the smithy, to be exact. Eodwine had been gone for a while after she left him in the grounds and before he returned to the Hall. That meant that sometime between the two, he had gone to speak with Harreld. Eodwine's face betrayed nothing of what could have become of that talk; he had eyes only for his wife. A small, selfish side of Ginna hoped they would resolve things quickly so she could ask him what Harreld said. A slightly bigger, impatient side of her longed to go to the smithy at that very moment and find out for herself.

She did not even realise that she had risen from her seat when she felt a hand touch her arm. It was Kara. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yes," Ginna answered, smiling tentatively. She looked towards the door, then back at Kara, whose eyes were filled with concern and disapproval. "I just need to clear my head," Ginna reassured her. "I'm not ready to talk to him," she added when Kara's brow lifted. Eventually, she withdrew her hand with a resigned look.

Ginna could not leave the kitchen without being seen by Rowenna and Falco, but both were still too busy debating to pay her any more attention as she walked out the kitchen towards the Hall. She had barely made it out through the door when she glimpsed Harreld coming towards her. A lump formed in her throat. But a moment later she realised that Harreld did not walk with that swagger. The man's face came into clear view.

"Garreth," she greeted him with a nod, her voice gruff. She cleared her throat.

[Gwathagor]

"What I meant to say was that people need a good lord. But they also have to be able to recognize a good lord from a bad one, and dreams and wishful thoughts won't help them to do it right," Hilderinc blathered pointlessly.

"Obviously not," retorted Crabannan in a non-committal attempt to be biting.

Dreams and wishful thoughts? he thought sourly as he kicked another pole onto his chopping block and split it with a single blow. Just because I'm a harper, he's pegged me as a head-in-the-clouds and a dreamer. Soldiers are all the same! And they're worse when they think they're not.

These and similar thoughts ate at him as he worked. He thought he could feel the soldiers smirking at him behind his back, which was salt in the wound. He wanted nothing better to stomp off and leave them to the only stupid, brainless work they were fit for besides sticking swords in people. He wanted to point out to Hilderinc that bluster, noise, and force of arms did not a good ruler make and that if Athanar could not master his own spoiled, bullying leech-sons, he was hardly to be entrusted with a village, much less an emnet.

But something held him back. Maybe it was an idealistic desire to see something through for once, even if it was something as small as a dirty sheep-shed in a muddy field. Maybe it was morbid curiosity as to whether or not he could. Maybe it was stubbornness.

So all he said was: "Any man can learn to lead, but not every man is born to it."

Dreams and wishful thoughts, indeed! Some people never change! he inwardly railed. But as he fell into a rhythm of work, his mind drifted to distant lands, times, and regrets.

[littlemanpoet]

"I'm hungry," Garreth announced. "What about you?"

"'Tis not midday yet," Harreld said between swings on his anvil.

"What of that? I'm hungry now and will not wait. I'm going to the kitchens. Do you want me to bring you back some vittles?"

Harreld ceased his swinging. "Aye, that would be well. And bring back some water. Bread and water. If a little bit of meat can be spared, that would be good."

"Oh ho! Now you're ordering a whole meal! I'll see what I can scratch up!"

Garreth set down his tools and walked out the door into the cold crisp air. Axes were swinging off away, and there men's voices were arguing. Someone came out of the door Garreth was aimed toward. Oh no. It was a woman. He would have to greet her, no doubt. Of all the unwelcome - he stopped his thought when he recognized her - it was Harreld's Ginna. Speaking of 'scratching up'! This woman was the last thing his brother needed!

She said his name and nodded by way of greeting. She did not sound pleased to see him.

"Ginna." He stopped in her way. Was she heading to the smithy? Could she not leave his brother alone? Trouble makers, all of them.

"Where are you going to?" he asked forbiddingly.

[Folwren]

She remained still and safe as he held her close. Her head rested on his shoulder and one hand lay on his chest. Slowly, her crying ceased and she sniffed quietly from time to time. The minutes past unnoticed in silence while they sat for a while in perfect contentedness. Here, Saeryn knew that all would be well, even if they did not yet agree on this issue.

Her emotions cooled like a stove with the fire taken from it, slowly and steadily. As she ceased crying altogether, her thoughts turned again to the disagreement at hand. She would be happy if Eodwine really did decide not to take action, but she still did not understand why he would not fight for his place. It was not right, and Saeryn had always known him to try to do what was right and best for his subjects. Why did he expect less from the king?

Did he really not want to be eorl, or was it that he did not care to stir up that much trouble?

Without pulling away, she tilted her head up to look up at his face. “Eodwine,” she said. “Why don't you want to be eorl?”

[Firefoot]

For several minutes only the sound of chopping was heard as the men went about their work. Hilderinc seemed thoroughly embarrassed by his outburst and not yet ready to speak again; the others either did not know how to respond to Crabannan’s odd remark or did not wish to.

Scyld was at least momentarily satisfied. His companions were edgy, and Scyld had found that upset and emotionally charged men said things that they would never dare to speak when fully rational. In that way they were not dissimilar to drunk men.

He did not intend to let the mood pass, however. Something more than the Athanar-Eodwine showdown was driving each of them; something was making them each defensive. Scyld wished to know what. So he asked Crabannan, “Is the man that learns to lead a lesser leader because he had to learn it?”

[Lhunardawen]

"Ginna. Where are you going to?"

Garreth did not look pleased to see her. More than that, he seemed even aggressive, standing directly in her way and making no effort to conceal the suspicion in his voice. She could not blame him. But there had been no lie in telling Kara that she was not ready to talk to Harreld.

"I wanted to take a walk, it was getting stuffy inside." His expression was unchanged, not that she expected anything else. "So," she continued, with a little effort at being friendly, "how do you like Scarburg thus far?"

Garreth was not about to let this troublesome woman get by without assurances. "Your walk wouldn't happen to be sending your feet toward the smithy now, would it?" He glowered at her, squinting for effect.

Ginna sighed sadly, her shoulders slumping. "No," she told him. Her voice was soft, but she looked at him unflinchingly. "I did not hurt him, Garreth. Why are you so mad at me?"

He blinked. He stared. He frowned. "Who said I was mad at you? I never said I was mad at you. I'm just protecting my brother. He's too .... too trusting." He leaned over her, glowering again. "I don't want anybody taking advantage of him, see?"

She stood straighter, unmoved by the smith towering over her. "Have I done anything to make you believe that I have taken advantage of him?" Her arms crossed and her head tilted slightly, in an instinctive gesture of challenge.

"See? There you go accusing me. I never said you did anything, I'm just warning you not to. Women!" He threw up his hands and walked by her toward the Hall. Ginna could only follow him with her eyes, completely at a loss about what had just happened. Her face fell as one thing became clear: her father was not the only obstacle she and Harreld had to surmount to finally be together.

[Gwathagor]

“Is the man that learns to lead a lesser leader because he had to learn it?" asked Nydfara.

"He is until he learns it," shot back Crabannan, wondering what Nydfara's horse in this race was. The man had scarcely been here more than a few months, and his look was not of a man who cared for rulers and politics. He reminded Crabannan of a crow or a jackal. He reminded Crabannan of himself, and for that reason he was suspicious.

"And what do you care? You're even more of a stranger here than I am."

[Firefoot]

“More of a stranger?” Scyld echoed, raising an eyebrow. He had not expected a personal attack, but was not flustered by it. He thought for a moment, looking Crabannan over. “I believe we arrived here at nearly the same time. I have lived here and worked here the same as you – why should I not care? More than that, I have lived in Rohan the whole of my life, while you, I gather, have moved around. By my reckoning, that makes me less of a stranger here than you.” He smiled at Crabannan in an attempt to remove any sting from his words, but privately he thought: I have lived nearly my whole life within five miles of the ground where I stand; no stranger am I to this place. Only to its people – and they are the true strangers.

“But you admit yourself a stranger here, though you have lived here longer than any of these soldiers,” Scyld continued with a gesture around at the others, “so I might turn the question back to you: why do you care so much?”

[Gwathagor]

"Yes, I've moved around," replied Crabannan hotly. "I've been a kitchen-boy, a woodsman, a guide, many things much worse, and I've played the harp for kings from here to Farthest Rhun to Deepest Harad and back again - but I fought for Rohan! Where were you during the war?"

He stepped back a bit, trying not to betray his chagrin at having let this slip. He kept his eyes on the soldiers; not apprehensive, just careful. Observing.

"As I've said, this is none of my concern. In the end, you could all run this Emnet into the ground and I'd be none the worse for it. But I care not least because I lost several pints of blood on this stupid, flat patch of earth."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

After his outburst, Hilderinc turned back to his work, trying to collect himself. Slowly, the cold, reasonable part of him, trained by years, came back. He was once again thinking soberly. What was this nonsense about? he said to himself. How could I have let myself to act so stupidly? So childishly? Don't I know better? Did I not just talk about maturity? And look at how I acted!

Now probably the most embarassing thing he felt about this outburst was that it caught him unawares – he had thought that he had managed to gain control over himself, that he had mastered his actions with the cold reasoning of his own mind. This was a shock, perhaps a hint that there was still some small, hidden part of his old self that he could not master – and that thought itself was a terror to him. Since the end of the War, he had been living the life of a mercenary, a simple soldier, caring only about his immediate orders, keeping his mind on simple things here and now. This had also managed to keep him feeling safe, knowing that he would not unleash from his memory anything he wanted to forget. Even now, as he mastered himself, he forced himself to cease thinking about the subject – feeling somewhere deep inside the fear that starting to follow but one thread of this thinking could lead him too far.

He turned to listen to the other men, finding out that the subject of their discussion was not any better for him if he tried to forget about the time of the Great War. He could not help, however, but to be impressed by Crabannan's account of his experiences. Long time ago, he had asked Crabannan if he was a Woodman, he did not get an answer back then, but whatever Crabannan was, it was clear now that this man came from afar and had seen much more of the world than Hilderinc ever would. There was something in Crabannan, indeed, that reminded Hilderinc of himself – perhaps it was the likely shared experience of wishing to leave something behind. Perhaps it was the horrors of the War, perhaps it was something else. But what seemed peculiar to Hilderinc was Crabannan's proclaimed loyalty to the Mark.

"As I've said, this is none of my concern. In the end, you could all run this Emnet into the ground and I'd be none the worse for it. But I care not least because I lost several pints of blood on this stupid, flat patch of earth."

"Why did you, then?" he said aloud, raising his head. "You did not really answer Nydfara's question, either. You are a stranger, yet you admit fighting for – as you say - Rohan... What made you lose these, as you say, pints of blood for this land? What ideals did you follow? What did you see – or what did you think you saw – that made you fight for it?"

[littlemanpoet]

“Eodwine, why don't you want to be eorl?”

"It is a dungeon with golden bars, a sentence for life, the eorlship. I am happy to be free. I love the folk here, but not this place. We do not have to stay. Were I eorl, we would not have that choice."

"Oh." Saeryn said nothing for a moment, and then again spoke. "But what about the people? What about men like Lithor? Or Erbrand? I know you would not have thought that Erbrand was right to beat Athanar's man so, but what of Lithor? Neither of them should have been forced to leave Scarburg, and yet they did. And I believe Thornden was somehow mixed into that, too."

Eodwine looked at Saeryn. He knew from Falco that Lithor had been accused what the Gondorians might call "insubordination", and that Erbrand had been violent and both had left, but she was describing things from what Eodwine took to be greater knowledge, and - - Thornden mixed up in it?

"Forced to leave? Thornden mixed up in it? Maybe you should tell me about all this from the beginning. I do not think that I have heard the tale in its fullness."

Saeryn took a breath, faced him more squarely, one knee up on the bed between them, and related the events of Lithor and Erbrand. Eodwine noticed that she did not speak directly of Thornden through all of it. When stomachs were growling in hunger for lunch, she stopped.

"And what of Thornden?"

"He saw where they went, as they rode off, and he said nothing. He protected them. I don't know what came of it. Athanar learned of it, and when he became angry, he and Thornden went outside and words passed between them. I do not know exactly what, Thornden did not go into much detail."

"I - see..." Eodwine paused. "I am not sure what to think, what I can do if anything. Time will tell. It will have to."

"Have you spoken to Athanar? Besides what I and others have likely said to you, do you know what manner of man he is?"

"We know each other from the war, but have had little to do with each other since then. I know that he is a man of quick and firm choices. From what you tell me, he made quick and firm choices about Lithor and Erbrand. Maybe he is over-sure of his choices, and does not wait to hear all there is to hear before he chooses his course. If that is so, he could be wiser than he is. Maybe that is my role, to give counsel as much as I am allowed to give."

"Be careful, lest he think you are trying to teach him his role and he take offense," Saeryn said. Then she regretted speaking so. That was not fair to Athanar. "No," she corrected herself. "I speak wrongly. Athanar will listen, I think, if your counsel is good, and I know you will give it carefully." She turned again to sit beside him, although she could not look at him from here. She took his hand and again pulled his arm around herself and nestled against him.

"What will you do if the people want you to take eorlship?" she asked.


"I will do what I have already. I will tell them as kindly as I can that I am not the eorl and do not want to be, but I wish to be their friend."

Saeryn seemed to accept this. But she stiffened and sighed deeply before speaking again, with much hesitation.

"Eodwine. . .after telling the women in the kitchen that you had returned as their eorl, when I came up here, I encountered Athanar. He asked me what troubled me, and I told him. . ." she hesitated a long moment. "I told him that you should be eorl, and that he shouldn't be, and that I would see to it that you were set in his place."

[Gwathagor]

"What did you see – or what did you think you saw – that made you fight for it?" pried Hilderinc.

Crabannan sighed. He didn't not want to discuss this and he should not have mentioned it. He shrugged.

"What makes any man fight? I was young. I was far from home. I was looking for somewhere to belong, a people to call my own."

"And did you find it?" shot in Nydfara.

No! he wanted to snap. It ended badly, like everything else these past fifteen years! He took a deep breath and kept his hands busy with work.

"If you had asked me then...no."

"And now?"

"Some things can't be changed, no matter the passage of years. What's done is done. Like this new eorl. I'm no fool. I owe it to no man to like it, but I know full well that Athanar is here to stay. Eodwine is back, but he'll never be eorl again...barring disaster."

[littlemanpoet]

"I told him that you should be eorl, and that he shouldn't be, and that I would see to it that you were set in his place."

Eodwine's grip loosened around Saeryn's waist involuntarily. He bent forward to catch her eye. She glanced at him and away again.

"You said wha-" he began to ask. "... no, never mind, I'll not make you say it again to me, I heard you." He paused, wrestling with this sudden news, trying to find the best thing to say in response.

"What did he say or do?"

She hesitated before answering. "I did not give him a chance to answer me. I came in here right away and shut the door."

"He did not knock or send his wife?"

"No."

Eodwine considered. If Athanar had not knocked or sent his wife, maybe he did not worry himself over her words. Maybe he had thought she was letting her feelings get the best of her. Or that being with child loosened her tongue. Maybe Athanar just expected him to control his wife like he thought any Eorling husband should. Or, could it be, that he held his counsel and waited to catch the two of them in some act that could be understood as treason? Eodwine swallowed, then dismissed that fear.

"I think we should leave it be and see if Athanar answers you in some way, or not, as time passes." He drew her to him and held her tight and finally let his feelings into words. "Oh Saeryn, I would give so much if only we could have no fear over this or anything else!"

[Firefoot]

At Crabannan's latest pronouncement, a wave of unease rippled through the soldiers. Scyld raised an eyebrow. As he'd been listening to Crabannan, Scyld had been trying to figure out whether he was hiding some troubled past or just melodramatic. A bit of both, Scyld was beginning to suspect. Melodramatic, gloomy, and over-serious – an unfortunate threesome of traits. He could not respond in kind.

“I hope you don't have any particular disaster in mind,” jested Scyld. “This hall has seen enough misfortune to last a while yet, I think.”

[Folwren]

Cnebba, Garmund, and Javan had been sent out early to search for stones to help build the sheep pen. They had the low wagon hitched to two horses and had spent an hour filling it with rocks and stones of many sizes. Now they drove it back, rattling over the stony earth at the base of the scar and up towards where men worked with wood poles for the gate and fence.

As they drew near, Javan identified all the men there. Mostly, they were soldiers. Crabannan was there, and Nydfara, too. When the boys drove up, the men were working, hewing the logs for the fence, but they also were speaking. Javan and the other two boys began tossing stones down from the wagon.

Crabannan was talking to Nydfara, apparently being questioned. “If you had asked me then…no.”

“Asked him what?” Javan queried aloud, but no one paid him any mind.

“And now?”

"Some things can't be changed, no matter the passage of years. What's done is done. Like this new eorl. I'm no fool. I owe it to no man to like it, but I know full well that Athanar is here to stay. Eodwine is back, but he'll never be eorl again...barring disaster."

Javan dropped his rock and straightened. Garmund howled when the rock hit his foot, but Javan pushed his shoulder hard. “Shush, did you hear that?”

“I hope you don't have any particular disaster in mind,” jested Scyld. “This hall has seen enough misfortune to last a while yet, I think.”

“What are you talking about?” Javan asked. He sprang across the sideboard of the wagon and ran the two steps to the men. “Eodwine’s back already? I thought he was getting back later today?”

[Firefoot]

Scyld didn't know how to handle children well; the younger they were, the worse he was. After being sent to work for Sorn at ten years old, he'd never spent much time around children, which had made for a lonely childhood.

So his instinctive reaction was to reply shortly to Javan, to tell him that theirs was not talk meant for children. But Scyld had been around long enough to learn (mostly through observation of others) that Javan had a bit of a stubborn streak and didn't take well to being told off. There was a good chance that he would become even more bothersome if he wasn't told what he wanted to hear and then put back to work.

“Eodwine got back this morning, a couple hours ago,” Scyld said, “and we were discussing it. Now, if you could unload those stones just over there, where the wood is being piled – and sort them by size, too.”

He turned back to his chopping. Between the level of discomfort that the men's conversation had reached and the presence of the boys, he strongly suspected that nobody would be talking about anything more interesting than how the sheep pen should be laid out for a while.

[Folwren]

Although there was much for Saeryn and Eodwine to talk about, they did not speak at great length at that time. Eodwine was weary and Saeryn knew it. Now that they had come to understand one another in the issue of eorlship, her womanly instinct to care for him came to bear. She put him to bed, assuring him that there was nothing for him to do, and that any greetings he had failed to make this morning would be able to be made this evening at the feast that they were giving in his honor.

Once she had seen that all his needs had been cared for, she returned to the kitchen, and then she and the other ladies set to work to prepare the feast she had mentioned to Eodwine.

When the letter had arrived announcing his coming, Athanar had said that his coming would be a celebration. He ordered that one of the cattle be slaughtered and fresh meet served on the day of his return. Breads were baked, and fruits and vegetables stored in the cellar below were hauled up and prepared in all sorts of dishes. There was never an idle moment for the people in the kitchen, and the day passed more quickly than they desired.

When the early dusk fell, and the men came to shake the descending cold from their limbs, all was prepared. The hall blazed with firelight from torches, candles, and the blazing fireplace, and the tables were laid and prepared for a heavy burden of food.

[Firefoot]

The sun cast long shadows across the hall grounds as Scyld and the other men made their way back from the fields where the sheep pen stood well on its way to completion. He was tired and very hungry, and he thought eagerly of the feast that had been promised for Eodwine's return. His mouth watered at the scents that wafted out from the kitchen as they drew near – a faint fruity aroma underlaid the stronger smells of fresh bread and – best of all – fresh beef.

He hadn't even realized how chilled he had gotten working outside all day until he pushed open the door to the hall and stepped inside. Then the warmth enveloped him and suddenly he felt cold to the bone. He sank gratefully to a seat at a table near the fireplace and felt his limbs begin to thaw.

The women had begun bringing out the food, and the various residents of the hall were all trickling in from wherever they had been, the tasks of the day put aside in favor of the coming celebration. He noted each as they arrived, out of habit rather more than anything else. There was Athanar and his family, taking their accustomed seats. Léof, in from the stables, who seemed unsure of where he ought to sit down (or rather, who he ought to sit down with). Falco, who would no doubt eat as much as any soldier there – Scyld would have to ask him sometime if all halflings were such hearty eaters. Rowenna...

His mental checklist stuttered to a halt. One of the soldiers sitting near him followed his gaze and grinned. “That's a fine looking woman, there,” he said. Scyld glanced at him and recognized him as Aldric, the same soldier who had made the jest about Saeryn at the breakfast table.

Scyld shrugged as if to say, A little. “What of it?”

Aldric looked at him as if he were mad. “What of it? Why, she's even prettier than the Lady Saeryn... and the kitchen maid Ginna too. The prettiest woman in the hall! And not otherwise spoken for, unlike them.”

A queer emotion threatened to bubble up inside Scyld, but he pushed it away and instead merely raised an eyebrow at the other man. “So you think you have a chance with her?”

“Why not?” Aldric was watching Rowenna, and so did not see Scyld smirking with an unsaid reply: Because you don't know the half of what's coming if you approach her.

[Folwren]

When Quin came back into the hall for the grand meal, his thoughts reverted to the discussion at breakfast and the talk that had followed out at the sheep pen. The people would again see how Eodwine and Athanar interacted, and perhaps after tonight everyone would know better what to think of Eodwine’s presence. He knew that he and other soldiers thought that Athanar should stay, but he wondered still if those who had been used to Eodwine as their eorl would think differently. He wanted to ask Léof again, but that had gone badly this morning, and now he did not even know if Léof would speak to him.

He looked about, hoping to catch sight of Léof. He spotted him seated on the end of the workmen’s table near Stigend and Garstan. Quin went towards him and stopped by his side.

“I hope you are not angry with what happened this morning. I meant no mischief.”

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna was helping Ginna and the others serving the food. This had been her charge before she had left, and she fell back into it with ease; Ginna and the others appreciated the extra hands, especially as she knew her way around the pantries, not to mention the habits of Frodides. Eodwine and Saeryn had not come in yet. She supposed Athanar had special plans. He did seem to be one for the grand gesture, as if he were especially aware of how his actions affected how his folk viewed him.

She watched the men come in the Hall from their work. They brought the cold in with them, and visibly relaxed into the warmth of the room. The fire in the hearth had been built high this night, for the air was even colder than most nights. There was Garreth, and even Harreld who had apparently been pressed to join them though it was not his way of late, she was told. Poor Ginna. Rowenna had not heard too much, but things were not as they should be between them, and Harreld needed a good talking to. But Rowenna knew better than to charge in where not asked.

There was Nydfara. She schooled herself not to change her manner even if her heart would not behave. Why did it start beating faster just because she noticed him in the room? How frustrating. She suffered him not a glance as she brought out a large tray with a half dozen tankards of mead. What was this? One of the men sauntered up the aisle toward her, a haughty half grin on his face, looking directly at her. Oh. One of these. Yes, he was coming toward her with an air as if he believed himself to be the answer in man's form for all the questions a woman had. She forced herself not to roll her eyes. He stopped right in front of her, his eyes half closed, with the confident smile of a rogue. She raised an eyebrow.

"I am Aldric. Are you offering drinks?" he asked.

"I bring them to table," she replied.

"Why thank you, I'll take one. How could I resist the offer of such a pretty little thing as you?" He took one of the six off her tray, winking at his double meaning as if he were the cleverest womanizer in all Rohan. She caught the tray with her other hand before the other five drinks could do more than slosh in their tankards.

"I made you no offer."

"Ah, but you wanted to. I could see it in your eyes."

Rowenna groaned inside. He was not bad looking, but his manner grated and bespoke a character beneath her. "You misread my eyes."

"Oho! You play hard to get. I know how it goes. I am not so easily put off. Come sit at my table tonight so we can get acquainted, and," he paused meaningfully, "see how things go from there."

"They'll not go anywhere. Not with the likes of you."

He raised his brow. "You do not know me. I am the best horseman in Scarburg, and am among the best with a sword or spear. My aim never fails of its target." He lifted his free hand to the hair on her shoulder and played it between his fingers. "Once I set my eye on a target, I will hit the bullseye. Maybe not the first time, but I always do, with practice, if you know what I mean." He winked.

She forced her lip not to curl in disgust. "Your prowess in marksmanship may be all that you say, but you miss the mark with me." With a twitch of her head she yanked her hair out of his grasp. "And always will. Let me by, please."

"Are you spoken for then?"

"No, I am not. But I speak for myself, and I say that you do not interest me. Let me by. I have tables to serve."

He frowned a moment but recovered and smiled. "Now now, that is no way to talk. You are the prettiest lass here. Sit with me at table."

"I'd sooner sit at table with a toad than you. Out of my way."

He stepped partly out of her path and she brushed by him, glad the conversation was over. She did not see Aldric's evil look at her back. She did look involuntarily at Nydfara, who appeared to be watching Aldric with a smirk. He glanced toward her. The smirk left his face, and he looked away almost as quickly as she did. She found a table far from him, set the tray down, and returned to the kitchen for more. The evening had better start going better, she thought to herself, or she would be returning to the Folde as soon as was possible.

[Firefoot]

Watching Aldric’s flirtations was even more amusing than Scyld had expected. From the start, he could see that Rowenna wanted nothing more than to rid herself of her relentless pursuer, but Aldric repeatedly blocked her attempts to get past her. He couldn’t hear their words from where he was sitting, but the body language of each of them was clear enough, and he could easily imagine the words that passed between them – Aldric wheedling, as charming as he knew how to be, and Rowenna, cold as ice and utterly composed. He had met few men with as quick a wit as hers, and even fewer women. It was a dangerous combination – stunning looks with a mind to match.

He glanced again at Aldric. Idiot. He would never impress a woman like that.

Rowenna left him standing there and then her glance turned to Scyld. He quickly looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring. He was losing his touch – he prided himself on observing people without them realized they were being watched.

Aldric returned to the table with a frown on his face.

“Didn’t go so well?” Scyld prompted, feigning empathy.

“Oh, she’ll come around,” said Aldric. “It’s just a woman like that doesn’t know her place. They get uppity.”

“They actually think for themselves,” said Scyld.

“Just so,” said Aldric, missing the sarcasm. “They get ideas in their heads. Saeryn too. Eodwine doesn’t take a firm enough hand with her, that’s why they got into that fight earlier.”

“Oh, did they?” asked Scyld, who had no knowledge of such a fight.

“She thought he still ought to be Eorl. Went around his back telling people. That’s what I hear, anyway. But it just shows the kind of trouble women cause when they try making their own ideas.”

“Perhaps the women would disagree,” said Scyld. Actually, there was no ‘perhaps’ about it – he knew that Rowenna would disagree…

“But that’s just the problem!” said Aldric. “It’s not their place to agree or disagree.”

“So you think that any girl you approach ought to take you up on your, ah, suggestions?”

“Well, I’m not going to go around approaching queens. I know my place. But she’s a serving girl, and I am a fine soldier. She says she ‘speaks for herself’ – that means she hasn’t got anyone looking after her, so she ought to be glad of any man taking an interest in her. She doesn’t know what she’s passing up.”

Scyld smirked. Oh, I think she knows exactly what she’s passing up, he thought, glancing over at her again.

Misreading Scyld again, Aldric said, “If you think it’s so funny or so easy, I’d like to see you try. You can’t get anywhere with a woman like that.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s easy at all,” Scyld said. It is pretty funny though. “But taking on a ‘woman like that’ would be better done with a full stomach, I think.”

Aldric rolled his eyes, but Scyld did not mind if Aldric thought him a coward for now. He could wait.

[Firefoot]

With no small trepidation did Leof return to the hall for the feast. After witnessing the fight between Eodwine and Saeryn, and then not seeing Athanar anywhere in the immediate vicinity, he had decided to just return to his work in the stables and that his own complaints and ideas could wait. There was enough upheaval right now without his adding to the mix.

All in all, it had been a quiet day in the stables. There were no drills, and it had been too cold for most of the men to want to take their horses out on pleasure riding, assuming they had no chores. So he’d had a lot of time to think about his new organizational scheme for the stables.

He’d also had a lot of time to think about his relationship with the soldiers… especially Quin. He wondered if Quin was upset with him. He had left so suddenly this morning, and the look of shock on his face when Leof said he thought that Eodwine would be Eorl again…

In hindsight, he supposed that comment could also be taken as an insult to the soldiers sitting there. Because the logical follow-up to Eodwine resuming the Eorlship was Athanar leaving, and with him all his soldiers. He could see why Quin might take that badly.

So when he came to the hall for the feast, he looked around a little nervously and was almost glad to see that Quin had not yet arrived. It saved him the decision of whether or not to sit near him. Instead, he chose what he considered a safe spot near the old Scarburgians – Stigend and Garstan among them. That was well, because there were some ideas he thought they could help him with. He was just starting to explain to them how he would like to add numbers to all the stalls, when Quin came up beside him.

“I hope you are not angry with what happened this morning. I meant no mischief,” he said.

Leof looked at him in surprise. “No, of course not. I thought you might be angry with me, after how you walked out this morning.”

[Folwren]

“Oh. Oh, no,” Quin said. He took the seat opposite Léof. “I wasn’t angry – am not angry – I was. . .it was just that it came as such a surprise, and then they were angry about it, and I didn’t want to make it any worse by asking any more questions. Between ourselves,” he said, “I think they rather over-reacted.” He elapsed into momentarily silence, and then said, as though musing to himself, “I would men like Scyrr did not speak so much. They make life so much more difficult.”

He met Léof’s eye briefly and then looked away again, laughing to himself. He had never voiced his real opinion of his fellow men-at-arms to anybody, and he felt it odd that now should be the time that he chose to do it. He liked Léof. He liked him a lot. He was the first person remotely like him or close to him in age he had ever had contact with since he first came into Athanar’s household. He thought perhaps that was why he did not want Eodwine’s return to change anything. He did not want to lose this new friendship.

[littlemanpoet]

Her tray restocked with six more tankards of ale, Rowenna came out of the kitchen into the Hall looking for a table of thirsty warriors. There were plenty.

Her roving eyes caught Nydfara and Aldric in close consultation. Aldric was looking put out and sullen, and Nydfara was smiling in that subtle, holding back, way he had. Were they talking about her? No doubt they were.

She took determined steps away from that table and found the table occupied by Quin and Léof, and Garreth the smith and his brother Harreld, as well as Garstan and Stigend. She laid the tray down before them and did not have to wait long for all six tankards to be taken, with proper thanks offered.

She smiled. "Be sure to wave to me when you're ready for more, men of Scarburg!"

She turned, playing with the tray as if it were an old wheel rim off a wagon that she and her childhood playmates had rolled along the ground with the help of a stick. She had been pretty good at that! Well, better than most of the girls. It had not been long before she had stopped being the "girl-pal" of all the boys, and they had started looking at her differently.

Which brought her thought back to the present, for there were many eyes watching her in that same way. She was used to it. But two pairs of eyes didn't look at her that way anymore. There were Nydfara and Aldric, the latter staring at her with undisguised annoyance. Nydfara appeared to be laughing into his sleeve.

She almost stopped in her tracks with a sudden suspicion. Had Nydfara put Aldric up to that? Her lips tightened and her jaw did too. No, she said to herself, do not just figure that he did. Ask him to his face. Yes, she would do that, and soon. Her steps were quicker and she did not smile so quickly for the rest of the night.

[Firefoot]

“Between ourselves, I think they rather over-reacted,” said Quin. Léof looked up at him, feeling somehow lighter inside than he had all afternoon. Quin continued, “I would men like Scyrr did not speak so much. They make life so much more difficult.”

At this, Léof broke out into a wide grin. “They do!” He had half-expected more of an argument from Quin when next they spoke, but instead he had found him more of an ally – a friend – than he had dared to hope. “Here, sit down,” said Léof, indicating the empty seat beside him. As Quin sat, Rowenna came around with drinks.

“Cheers, Rowenna!” said Léof, taking a tankard.

"Be sure to wave to me when you're ready for more, men of Scarburg!" she said.

Léof lifted his mug to Quin. “To friendship," he said, "and to not caring about what those proud and over-sensitive louts think.”

[littlemanpoet]

Athanar and Wynflaed stood with Eodwine and Saeryn just outside the Hall. Everybody else was already within.

"Let us make our entrance," Athanar smiled. "I offer you the lead, Eodwine. This is your feast."

He smiled and shook his head. "Nay lord, you are the eorl. Please lead the way. Saeryn and I will gladly follow."

Athanar nodded. "So be it." He held out his arm to his wife, she took his arm, and they led the way into the Hall.

Eodwine offered Saeryn his arm with a smile. Her hair had been done up in a curled cascade like a waterfall down her back. "I am glad I may do this with you," he said. A smile came to her lips as she took his arm, but her thoughts were her own.

They entered the Hall, following Athanar and Wynflaed to the head table. Heads began to turn. Cheering and applause built from a smattering to a roar in a few moments. After standing there soaking it in, Athanar raised his hand gesturing for silence. Slowly the noise died away and the crowd listened. Even the cooks and serving wenches had stopped in their tasks and stood in a line just outside the kitchens.

"Men and women of Scarburg! Today we welcome Eodwine back among us." Applause followed and died away after a moment. "Eodwine has been your capable leader, but fell sick. Many of you thought that he would not live – and so did our good king. But now he stands back with us, even if in kindling health." More applause. "King Eomer has charged Eodwine to return to Scarburg to return to his wife and to give me his full support in making the Scarburg Mead Hall the great hall it should be. I thank our king for this. As soon as he has regained his health, he will take back a central role in Scarburg Mead Hall. May his health return in full quickly and let the Scarburg Mead Hall flourish, like we showed it should in dealing with the local lords opposing king's justice and all fairness as Eorlings... with lord Eodwine we're even stronger! Cheers for our good lord to have come back!”

There were loud cheers from all the corners of the hall. People were excited.

“Today we celebrate his return with a feast, held in his honor. Three cheers for Eodwine, Counselor to the Eorl of Scarburg!"

The three cheers were given, each one louder than the last. And so they sat down to feast.

Eodwine thought the speech appropriate but a little strange. Athanar had been at pains to give his new role a name, and yet that name was vague. Counselor. So be it. It left much room for refinement, as the Gondorians would say. Eodwine stole a glance at his wife, but she was sipping demurely at her drink, giving nothing away of what might be in her head or heart. At least, not yet. Still, he felt something was either brewing or simmering, and wondered when it would spill out. Wait and see, he told himself, and enjoy the feast. Eventually, the four of them would make the rounds among the folk, so he knew he had to eat well and drink sparingly to be ready for that.

[littlemanpoet]

Léof lifted his mug. “To friendship," he said, "and to not caring about what those proud and over-sensitive louts think.”

Garreth overheard. He was about to say something when Athanar and Eodwine and their wives walked in. The Hall immediately fell silent and there was a speech, not too long, which Garreth approved of. Once things returned to normal, he leaned over his tankard and regarded the ostler.

"And who might these louts be?" he asked. "Nobody ever tells us smiths anything! What news have you?"

[Firefoot]

As Athanar sat down and the cheers died away, Garreth leaned toward Léof and said, “And who might these louts be? Nobody ever tells us smiths anything! What news have you?"

Léof bit the inside of his lip, chagrined. In his pleasure he had forgotten that many people were about who might overhear; he was lucky that it was only Garreth and not one of Athanar's soldiers.

“Some of the soldiers that came here with Athanar do not think very highly of some of us who were here before them,” said Léof vaguely. However, from the look on Garreth's face he could tell that the smith wished to know more than that. Well, he was among friends here, he supposed, and could speak at least a little more freely. He grinned wryly. “They did not like it much when I told them this morning that I thought Athanar might leave when Eodwine came back.”

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

There was an applause at the end of the table where a cluster of Athanar's soldiers were sitting, though at some points there was a murmur from the place of Scyrr and Áforglaed.

"What was that about," muttered Scyrr just after emptying his mug and waving impatiently at the nearby maid to bring him another one. "What was that supposed to mean?"

"What was what supposed to mean?" asked Áforglaed, sitting next to him at the very end of the table, opposite to Hilderinc, but avoiding to meet his eye. Hilderinc had been strangely silent all the time since the sheep-pen incident, not that it was strange for Hilderinc to be silent, but this silence had some very cold and almost threatening air about it. After finishing the work, Hilderinc rushed away, and Áforglaed had not heard him uttering a single word after that. It was as if he had lost his ability to speak.

"I was thinking about what lord Athanar had just said," Scyrr continued in his thoughts. "How was it? 'As soon as he has regained his health, he will take back a - how was it - central role in Scarburg.' What in Béma's name is that supposed to mean, central role?"

"Central role is central role," shrugged Baldwic, on the opposite side of the table. "You heard it. He is to be made a counselor."

"Which is supposed to be what exactly?" Scyrr asked, hitting the table impatiently with his mug. "Yo! Woman! More ale!"

Baldwic rolled his eyes, but Áforglaed attempted to contribute to the conversation. "Well, I'd say he will be giving... counsel... to Athanar."

"Oh really!" roared Scyrr. "I wouldn't have thought of that! Where is that accursed woman? Pouring drinks to others and I am supposed to die here or... But anyway, that still does not explain the 'central role' to me. The way I hear it, Eodwine is NOW made a counselor... and after he gets better... then what?"

"Are you sure you aren't just putting too much into it..." Baldwic started, but Áforglaed jumped in.

"Yeah, right!" he said. "Isn't it what the stableboy had said in the morning?"

"What, that newt?" Scyrr finally gave up hitting the table with his mug.

"Oh yes!" Áforglaed popped his eyes. "He surely must have known! Once Eodwine gets better, he will become eorl again and Athanar will leave..."

"Now wait just a-"

"Outrageous!" yelled Scyrr. "Outrageous, I say! Eodwine plans to sack us?"

Baldwic interrupted him. "Now come on, he could not do that without Athanar agreeing on it..."

Scyrr eyed Baldwic. "Now are you telling me Athanar betrayed us?"

Áforglaed stared at him. "What?"

Baldwic shook his head, looking away from Scyrr. "I think he's just had too much to drink. See, he had been drinking even before the rest of you arrived here, I have seen him... Hilderinc," he turned to the soldier sitting at the end of the table. "Hilderinc, tell him something."

"He won't say anything, he has gone mute," Áforglaed whispered over the table. Hilderinc remained impassive.

"I am per-fectly fine," Scyrr roared, "or I would be, if it wasn't for some scheming-plotting strange stuff going on here..."

"Now will you calm down..." Baldwic started, but Scyrr rose.

"I am going to get me some more ale – and ask my hay-filling hay-filled little friend what he thinks about it," he nodded towards the other table. Before they could stop him, he rushed away.

"This is not going to end well," Baldwic predicted. "Let's fetch him back, before he starts a fight on Eodwine's welcome feast..."

"But what if Eodwine is really going to become an eorl? What is Athanar going to do? Are we going to return to Edoras? Or what?" Áforglaed asked nervously.

"I don't know, but I don't really believe it's going to happen," Baldwic said. "What do you say, Hild- now, where has he gone?"

The seat at the end of the table was empty.

***

As Scyrr slowly approached the table where Léof and others were sitting, he could catch the last of the stableboy's words.

"...They did not like it much when I told them this morning that I thought Athanar might leave when Eodwine came back."

"Thought that, did you?" he growled, closing up the space and stopping behind Léof. The stableboy turned, startled. "And what else did you think, or know, eh? What do you think now?"

[Firefoot]

"Thought that, did you?" came a voice from directly behind him. Léof jumped, then turned around to see Scyrr standing there. A hint of the anger that had consumed him earlier sparked at the edge of his mind as Scyrr continued: "And what else did you think, or know, eh? What do you think now?"

Thoughts flashed through Léof's mind: 'What else did he know?' What was that supposed to mean? Why had Scyrr come back to pick this fight with him? Nor did he like the situation; Scyrr was towering over him, and if he tried to get up quickly he knew that he would get tangled up in the bench.

But bolstered both by Thornden's advice to him earlier and by the friends that surrounded him, Léof had enough presence of mind to remain seated, though it was uncomfortable to look up at Scyrr that way, and to reply very evenly: “I think that Lord Athanar has just made it very clear that both he and Lord Eodwine will be staying here. What I do not know is why you seem to think I might have more knowledge than anyone else in this hall.”

[Folwren]

Quin glanced up towards the eorl’s table with some alarm, but as yet Scyrr’s loud and aggressive behavior had not been noticed. Why must something like this start now? He nearly stood up and steered Scyrr away, but Léof answered Scyrr’s rather enigmatic question almost at once.

“I think that Lord Athanar has just made it very clear that both he and Lord Eodwine will be staying here. What I do not know is why you seem to think I might have more knowledge than anyone else in this hall.”

Quin looked at Léof, surprised at his bold reply. He smiled, then, and turned his eye back to Scyrr, and the smile was wiped off his face. Scyrr did not like Léof’s reply, but Quin realized that Scyrr would not like anything Léof said that night. He was drunk. And worse than that, he was in a foul mood and unlikely to be gotten out of it. He stood up and walked about to Scyrr.

“Come on. You don’t want to start anything here, Scyrr,” he said, laying his hand on his arm. “Go outside, clear your head. You’ve been in your cups too long.”

[Durelin]

Coen hated these formal occasions, and this one would be more uncomfortable than usual. He found himself remembering the fateful feast on the day of their arrival. Hopefully with Lithor and Erbrand gone there would be no more debacles. Coen knew he should be there to help keep his men in line, but he had an excuse for being late. And later his presence would matter more, once everyone had gotten into the drinking.

He left the stables and headed into the hall, slipping quietly toward the soldiers’ table. But on his way he caught Scyrr standing over another table, his face flushed and his eyes flashing. His anger seemed to be directed at one of the young stable hands. Coen was ready to go immediately to him and drag him back to the rest of the men, but he saw Quin had a steadying hand on his arm. Perhaps the younger man would talk him down and there was no need to embarrass Scyrr by stepping in and ordering him back to the soldiers’ table.

Coen went to the nearest wall and stood, trying to stay out of the way of servants. He watched Scyrr and Quin closely, occasionally letting his eyes wander around the hall, including to the eorl’s table, to see if anyone else had noticed the possibility of trouble. His eye’s passed over Lord Eodwine with a spark of annoyance, then rested on the Lady Saeryn for a brief moment before he looked away. And what did she think, now that her husband was back? She had been demanding from the start, even when it seemed her husband was dying.

He turned his attention back to Scyrr and Quin. He could only concern himself with what was among his duties.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Scyrr turned his eyes to Quin standing next to him. It seemed to take him a few heartbeats to fix his eyes upon the young soldier.

"Leave me be!" he shook Quin's hand off. "I don't need to calm down! But you are not doing well in making friends with this witty fellow, no, not at all!"

Quin cast a quick look at Léof and opened his mouth, but Scyrr continued.

"Ask your wannabe friend what he would like to see us do," he growled. "He would love to see us gone! Yes, both me and you! He would be much happier back with just his old friends, isn't it so?"

He eyed the other men at the table with his slightly drunk stare; in his state, the thought of being afraid of them had not even crossed his mind.

***

"I wonder if we should not go after him," Baldwic said, looking over his shoulder.

"I don't think Scyrr needs any help," Áforglaed said. Scyrr had always been his friend and Áforglaed had in many ways looked up to him. And he was sure that if it came down to any trouble, even a fight, Scyrr would be able to handle it.

Baldwic shook his head, thinking of a different kind of trouble than Áforglaed had in mind. "I don't think Quin can handle him alone. And I think he might get himself into trouble. See, the Captain is looking. Over there." He nodded towards the wall Coenred was leaning against.

Áforglaed followed his gaze. Suddenly, he felt unsure what to do.

"The Captain will be angry if there is trouble..."

"You can bet he will," Baldwic said.

"Where is that silent man when we need him?" Áforglaed tapped the edge of the table nervously. "He had been always good in telling people off and stopping fights..."

"Some brave soldier you are," Baldwic looked at him. "Scyrr is your best mate. Why don't you want to go and stop him from doing anything silly before Captain does?"

Áforglaed remained silent. Baldwic turned his head again.

"We can wait and see if anything happens," he said. "But if it does, I think it will be best to be ready to jump up and get Scyrr before half of the Hall is upon him."

[littlemanpoet]

Garreth watched the soldier, Scyrr, towering over Léof, hearing his wild talk, and scowled. When the man shook off Quin, he set his tankard down and half turned in his seat as if ready to get up and take matters into his own hands.

Harreld saw his brother's restive move and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Calm, Garreth," he said in his ear. "The man's had too much to drink. If all he has is words, there's been no call to act."

Garreth turned to his brother. "The moment he takes a swing at Léof or anyone else, I'm wrestling him down. You with me?"

Harreld hesitated, looking around. He noticed Coen standing against the wall, casting a watchful eye around the room, including Scyrr. "Wait and see." He nodded in Coen's direction.

"You wait and see. He's too far away. I'll keep this man from beating up our friend if nobody else will."

Harreld looked at his brother reproachfully. He'd come to Scarburg angry and stayed that way, had been spoiling for some kind of fight since the day he'd arrived. If Garreth got himself into a fight, Harreld knew that he would wrestle him out of it if he could. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. He was impressed that so far Garreth had kept his words to himself. That was something, but not much.

[Firefoot]

"Ask your wannabe friend what he would like to see us do," Scyrr growled at Quin. "He would love to see us gone! Yes, both me and you! He would be much happier back with just his old friends, isn't it so?"

Léof stared at Scyrr in distaste and irritation. He was sick of being hounded and picked on, and seeing Scyrr transfer the same sort of treatment to Quin just bothered him more. He stood up to show his support to Quin.

“Only half-right," said Léof. "You're the only one here I'd like to see gone. Leave us alone."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc was standing outside, under the bright stars of the chilly evening. He breathed in and out, savouring the crisp air. Gone was the damp smell of the moors, gone was the scent of the trees from the nearby woods he had been smelling on the first days after his arrival. The winter was coming mercilessly and its sharp sting of frost had dulled all the scents. Now any of the smells hardly stayed in the air, least of all by night when the world was asleep. Yet there was still some pleasant flavour in the air, one of the things Hilderinc had begun to like about Scarburg almost at the very beginning. Now at the threshold of winter, it was the almost painful, yet pleasant sharpness of the night breeze, the soft scent of smoke and wood, so unlike the smell of smoke and grass in the wild wind of Edoras, so unlike the smell of open fires in the camps of Wold, and so much unlike the smell of smoke, fire and steel so long ago, in the times of the Great War, which the wind had carried over the Isen.

Hilderinc stopped, gazing at the stars twinkling above the dark formless silhouette of the kitchen building. Only a small sliver of light was coming through a crack – perhaps a not throroughly closed window - otherwise, it was all dark.

Why did I once again think about the War, he wondered at the last flash of memory, peering into the distance as if he could find an answer there. As if today had tried to bring it back to me now.

Yet now and here, under the bright star-strewn sky of the last days of autumn, he felt as if he had nothing to fear for the moment. Perhaps there was something Elvish in that night with myriads of small shiny dots above him, but Hilderinc would not have thought of it like that. Any thought of accidentally opening something that he would have liked to remain forgotten deep in his mind was simply gone, as if he could be sure that the keys to his worst memories were safely out of his reach now. He could just think, freely think and ponder the strange events that had led him to become so fierce on that morning, when helping Crabannan, Nydfara and the others to build the sheep-pen.

He had already got past the initial puzzlement over his reactions. Now he was just embarassed, still embarassed with himself, but not because of what he had done, but because of feeling so embarassed in the first place, and because of having to spend so much time thinking about it.

It was not such a big deal, he thought again. Everybody can explode in anger at some point. The important thing is not to act like a kid all the time. And I didn't. I told Crabannan what I had been thinking. And that I still care? Isn't it good to know that I actually still care about some things? Isn't it good that I care about what people think?

He frowned slightly, trying to make his mind up.

It might be this situation which brings back so many memories, he thought suddenly and if that strange, Elvish-evening mood still had not been resting about him, he might have became worried. The two groups of men, the division within their ranks - the uncertainity, the mistrust in the powers and the justice of the lord... just like back then. It had not been in my power to stop people following what I had believed to be misguided notion... I had not been in any position to do that... yet what is my position now?

He looked down and kicked a single small rock with the tip of his boot. It flew several feet and dully thudded into the shutter of the kitchen's window. Hilderinc straightened himself.

I serve Athanar, he told to himself. That is what I am now, and I should serve him. But is it not, after all, the very thing I have been trying to do since my first day here, even though I have not been consciously aware of it - to bring these two groups to reconciliation? Is this not the smallest thing I can do, here and now, to make all these rows between 'old' and 'new' Scarburgians stop?

Everything seemed calm and he felt he cold night air on his face. He stood outside the kitchen, in silence, thinking.

***

Scyrr clenched his fists as Léof had told him so boldly to leave, and it would have sufficed just a little and he might have struck him. But somehow, suddenly, as if some realisation came to him, he paused in thought.

"I am the only one you want to see gone?" he repeated, eyeing all the men at the table. "Really, are you?" Suddenly his face twisted into a triumphant smile. "Tell me, then, what about lord Athanar? Do you want him gone, too? Is it not that you want to see me and him gone, huh? You see," and he leaned closer to Léof, almost as if he was talking to a close friend, yet his face had an unmistakeable menacing look, "I think I've heard you wishing something like that in the morning, boy! Ha!" He roared triumphantly and stood up straight again, as much as his condition had allowed him to.

"And wanting him gone means wanting us all gone, just so that you know," he added matter-of-factly, raising his eyebrows and pointing at Quin. "So don't you go tell-tales on us, kid!"

[Folwren]

Quin looked back and forth between Scyrr and Léof as they exchanged words. Léof’s boldness surprised him, and he feared that Scyrr would strike out in drunken anger. He prepared to step in if Scyrr even appeared to threaten to hit Léof, but after he didn’t. Quin was surprised at first that he chose not to fight, but his poisonous and hateful words soon explained Scyrr’s decision to change his course. It had always been his wont to insult and get under his opponents skin and to irritate them, like a fly that buzzed rather than a wasp that stung.

He cast his eye on Quin and something else entered his mind to jab at Léof. “And wanting him gone means wanting us all gone, just so that you know. So don't you go tell-tales on us, kid!"

Quin's eyes sparked as he felt the insult aimed at Léof. "Quit, Scyrr," he said. "Just stop. Léof isn't a child. You're a lout and a trouble-causer. Leave him alone, because if you bother him, you've got me to deal with, see? Now get out." He clenched his fists at his side as he spoke and stood squarely up to Scyrr. His heart beat a little faster after making his statement, for he really, really did not want to fight Scyrr. But he would, if he had to, and he made that clear in his expression as he met Scyrr's eyes.

[Durelin]

Coen watched as the stable boy stood up to face Scyrr and twisted his lips in frustration. The boy had some guts, he would give him that. Perhaps he was a little lacking in common sense at the moment, but not lacking as much as Scyrr. Coen sighed and worked his way over to the table, careful to avoid rushing servants. Scyrr bellowed some more, something about ‘wanting us all gone.’ The captain let out another sigh. Not more of this.

He came up by Scyrr’s side and laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. “What’re you doing picking on a lad, Scyrr?” He spoke just loud enough to make sure Scyrr heard him at the least and kept his voice plain. If all the man heard was an accusation he would keep on blustering. “Come on, let’s get back to the riders’ table.”

He ignored Quin and the stable hand, though he would make sure to have a word with them later.

~

Tyrdda kicked open the kitchen door, her hands full carrying a heavy bucket, scraps and kitchen waste -- she would pick out the decent bits for the dogs before taking the rest to be given to the pigs. She was just going to call for the dogs to come get their treat when she noticed the man hanging around the back of the kitchens.

She quirked an eyebrow and smiled a little. It was too dark for her eyes to recognize him, but the way he carried himself reminded her of a rider rather than one of the other servants. “If you’re looking for someone I don’t mind letting her know,” she said with a slightly suggestive tone.

[Firefoot]

Léof frowned faintly at Coenred's and Scyrr's retreating backs. The captain's words echoed in Leof's mind: “What’re you doing picking on a lad, Scyrr?” It was just like he'd said to Thornden earlier: to nearly all these newcomers, that's all he was. A lad, only to be picked on or dismissed. Maybe Scyrr wasn't so far gone in his accusations, thought Léof bitterly. Scyrr indeed was not the only one he wished gone. The truth was rather backwards from that – Quin was the only one he wished to stay. Was Quin's presence worth theirs? He wasn't sure.

He guessed that meant it was fortunate it was not his choice to make.

And it was still possible that he could get them all to see him and listen to him. He had ideas. They just needed to be put in place.

Recalling his earlier resolve helped him shake off the whole confrontation and sit back down at the table to enjoy the feast, if less jovially than before. “Well,” he said, “I guess that Scyrr pretty well just proved my point... looks like the riders still aren't too happy with me.” He looked over at Quin. "Or you either, now. I hope they won't cause trouble for you."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc looked up when the door to the kitchen opened and a woman came out. In the light coming from the doorframe, he could see her better than she could probably see him; he recognised her, but she was one of those he hardly got to know during his stay. He had not managed to get to know the women in Scarburg very well anyway, it had taken him at least some time (even though he had been ably aided by the gossiping of some riders like Áforglaed or Baldwic) to remember all the women's names and also (as a sort of unwanted result of listening to the gossip) to learn which of the local women are already "taken", as the riders put it.

Maybe as another result of some of the riders' attitude, the woman addressed him with probably similar thoughts in mind.

"If you're looking for someone I don't mind letting her know."

Hilderinc grinned involuntarily, his mood had been still lightened up somehow.

"No, thank you, but I am not in fact looking for anyone," he replied. "I know that I might be the only one, but I was just outside, clearing my head a bit. Even though," for the first time in a while he frowned slightly, remembering Scyrr and his mood at the time when he had left the hall, "even though there might be others inside to whom it might do some good to get some fresh air, too," he said, more like to himself. But he had immediately put himself into present again, recalling his good manners.

"But whatever is happening inside now - let me thank you for the meal today – a feast indeed, it was delicious," he added, half-acting a polite bow. "And these are not empty words, mind you – I have been in service in many different places and I know something about what it means to have good food on the table."

[Gwathagor]

Crabannan was sitting at the end of Leof and Quin's table and, without looking up from his plate, he watched from the corner of his eye as Coen directed the unsteady Scyrr back to their own table.

Satisfied, he slid the stag-horn knife back into his boot.

A year ago, he wouldn't have hesitated, and it was almost shame he felt now at having sat silent by. He took a drink and looked over at Leof as the younger man sat down, breathing quickly, but apparently no worse for the wear.

"Or you either, now. I hope they won't cause trouble for you," Leof was saying to Quin.

"You shouldn't take that kind of talk from them," Crabannan said. "It gives them ideas, and that lot already think they're above the rest of us."

[Folwren]

Saeryn

She had expected grand talk and a speech given and she sat with a polite but distant look on her face as Athanar gave it. Her eyes idly ran over the gathered faces looking up at Athanar as he spoke of their joy at Eodwine's return. She rested her cheek on her hand just an instant and then lifted her head again. She wondered exactly how joyous Athanar was at Eodwine's return. She thought of what she had said to Athanar of her intention to set Eodwine back in the place of eorl. He still had not mentioned it and nothing in his look or manner indicated that he felt threatened or concerned with her ultimatum. She glanced at Athanar.

“Today we celebrate his return with a feast held in his honor. Three cheers for Eodwine, Counselor to the Eorl of Scarburg!”

Saeryn stiffened without meaning to. Her face froze in an icy expression and she did not cheer with the rest. She carefully schooled her face to take on a neutral look. Conflict must be avoided this evening at all cost, she knew, and by the time Eodwine looked at her after Athanar had ceased speaking, he saw her calm and collected, but the look was entirely insincere.

Counselor indeed. To the Eorl of Scarburg. Might he have made the distinction any more clear? Eodwine should be the one who was eorl! She bit her lip and turned the cup in her hand. Don't think thus, she said to herself. Eodwine wills not to be eorl. You must be content with whatever position Athanar gives him. Counselor is an honor.

Yes, supposing he takes any counsel. Even Thornden could not talk any good sense into him, as you well know. She drank deeply of the mead and set the cup down again. Counselor, she repeated silently. Counselor. Counselor for what? How to run this place? Ha, he already has his own ideas. She fingered her knife and fork and stared out as she thought. Her eyes rested on the layman's table and she witnessed in silence the end of the quarrel between Leof, Quin, and Scyrr. Counselor about how to keep his men under control? Her fingers curled suddenly she gripped the utensils tightly. It was all so unfair. She couldn't forget, she wouldn't forget, how Athanar had come and replaced Eodwine in such a brazen, unfeeling way, his first night occupying Eodwine's hall and putting Eodwine's men to shame, and now his men were abusing Leof, unnoticed, unchallenged – except just now, of course, Coenred had interfered. But there was no disgrace, no punishment. He led him back to the table and then Scyrr went outside, and that was probably all.

Saeryn wouldn't stand for it. Disrespect towards Leof had not gone unnoticed by Saeryn. She had kept watch over her people as well as she knew how during Eodwine's absence, and she knew how the men from Edoras treated him, as well as some of the other people. It had troubled her greatly, but until now she had no thought about how to stop their rudeness and disrespect. But now she knew what she could say, and she had an opportunity to say it, having just watched what passed.

She stood and turned away from the table without consulting Eodwine. She passed along the edge of the hall and thence to the door where Scyrr had disappeared outside. She went out, too, and called into the darkness.

“Scyrr!”

The soldier had not gotten far. He turned and came toward her. “What?” he asked in a surly voice.

“Just now, in the hall, you were on the verge of attacking Leof. I saw you. Now, I've seen and heard of your savage attack on people before. You goaded Erbrand into the fight just after coming here. That's not acceptable, do you hear? You'll leave Leof alone from now on, do you understand me?”

“Just like the coward,” Scyrr growled. “Sending a woman out to do the fighting for him.”

“I am not Leof's messenger, I am lady Saeryn, Eodwine's wife. I came out myself. I don't like you bullying my men, and I have had enough, and you'll mind how you talk and act from this day forward.”

Scyrr leaned towards her. She smelled the mead on his breath. “I don't take orders from a woman,” he said. “And certainly not one married to a sick man who vies for Lord Athanar's place like a dog trying to take his master's chair.”

Saeryn swung as hard as she could and struck Scyrr across the face. “Dog!” she said, furious. “You do not know of whom it is you speak!”

[Firefoot]

Aldric had continued his conversation with the others seated nearby, for which Scyld was grateful. It left him free to pay attention to what everyone else in the hall was doing. (It was probably good for Aldric, too, since just about anyone else would be a more sympathetic listener than Scyld.)

When Athanar stood up to speak, Scyld paid less attention to the speech than he did to the reactions of the listeners. He did not expect any great surprises from Athanar; the grandiose and impassioned speeches had long since lost their novelty, and they all spun variations on the same theme: unity in the hall. Scyld probably could have given the speech himself; he thought he had Athanar at least that well figured out.

There were a lot of surprised looks when Athanar named Eodwine his counselor, but Scyld's was not among them. Of course Athanar would have to give Eodwine some kind of honored position, or he would risk alienating Eodwine's former household. He caught the soldiers exchanging worried or upset looks. Eodwine's expression was polite but passive. Of everyone in the hall, he was the one who seemed least disturbed by his own absence and return. His wife, on the other hand... her face now was carefully schooled, but Scyld had not missed how she had stiffened in her seat, and how she did not cheer along with the rest of the hall. Had he not been watching for it, he would have missed it, but it seemed that Aldric's gossip was good: Saeryn was not pleased with matters as they stood.

He was distracted from the head table by the kerfuffle unfolding between Scyrr, Léof, and Quin. It did not come to blows, however, which made the encounter hardly out of the ordinary. He wondered briefly how Scyrr had managed to keep his position with Athanar; the man seemed far more trouble than he was worth.

Then something interesting did happen. Saeryn rose from her table and stalked out of the hall after Scyrr. Under the guise of getting up for more mead (for Rowenna, unsurprisingly, had not come anywhere near his table and his mug had thus gone without refill), he passed close enough to the hall door to hear a snatch of their conversation:

“I am not Leof's messenger, I am lady Saeryn, Eodwine's wife. I came out myself. I don't like you bullying my men, and I have had enough, and you'll mind how you talk and act from this day forward.”

“I don't take orders from a woman. And certainly not one married to a sick man who vies for Lord Athanar's place like a dog trying to take his master's chair.”

Well. That was gutsy of her, to defend young Léof. On the other hand, it was hardly her place to discipline Athanar's riders, and Scyld suspected that it would not make the situation better for anyone involved. Perhaps Aldric was not all wrong. Maybe Eodwine did need to take a firmer hand with her. To each his own, he supposed. And now to refill his tankard.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Saeryn swung as hard as she could and struck Scyrr across the face. "Dog!" she said, furious. "You do not know of whom it is you speak!"

Scyrr paused for a while, watching Saeryn as if surprised by what she just did. Then he chuckled.

"Ha!" he said. "Don't I? Is he the man who sends a woman to fight for him, then?"

He leaned closer towards her, so close that she could feel his alcohol-smelling breath.

"I don't care what he used to be. He is just another man in the Hall now. Why did he come back? He is and he will never be the eorl again."

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine

Saeryn got up and did not say a word, not even to excuse herself. That was not quite right. But then, this was an odd situation. She was probably just taking care of nature's course. What was that row going on by Léof? Who was that drunkard? Eodwine figured that he would find out soon enough. He felt weary.

Now why was Saeryn going out that way? The latrines were the other direction. Eodwine shrugged. Leave well enough alone, she'll be fine, he told himself.

Harreld & Garreth

"Lucky for that Scyrr that Coenred took a hand," Garreth mumbled to Harreld. Harreld just rolled his eyes.

“Well,” said Léof, “I guess that Scyrr pretty well just proved my point... looks like the riders still aren't too happy with me.” He paused. "Or you either, now," he said to Quin. "I hope they won't cause trouble for you."

"You shouldn't take that kind of talk from them," said Crabannan. "It gives them ideas, and that lot already think they're above the rest of us."

"What's all this bother about them or us?" asked Garreth. "The sooner every man gets over it, the better off we'll be. Now, the real 'them' to watch out for is those women!" He nodded meaningfully toward the kitchens. "Don't trust a one of 'em, I say."

"Garreth," said Harreld, "shut up. You're as bad as Scyrr in your own way."

Falco

Big People just seemed not to notice him, including this here Nydfara. Of course, the man was clearly distracted by what they both had heard just outside.

"Dropping eaves, are you, Nydfara?" he said.

The Man looked down suddenly, noticing him for the first time.

"Maybe you and I might lend the Lady Saeryn a hand if trouble starts, if you take my meaning."

[Folwren]

Saeryn trembled with contained wrath. Her hands clenched into fists by her side, but she did not strike again. For a time, she had come to peace that Eodwine would never be eorl again, but to hear it told her like this, from a drunken rider, caused the blood to boil in her veins again. At the same time, she realized she could do nothing about it. A sense of total insignificance and weakness overwhelmed her. She had expected Scyrr to be abashed, apologetic, when she confronted him. Instead he ridiculed her and her husband. She was forced to realize that not only was Eodwine no longer eorl, but she no longer had the status of an eorl’s wife.

“Lord Eodwine chooses not to regain his position as eorl,” she said, her voice low and quivering. “That is why he will never be eorl again. And he is not weak because of it,” she added sharply when she realized that perhaps that would be another dart for the man to use against her and Eodwine. “If you do not begin to show Eodwine the respect he deserves, and if you do not take my warning about your treatment of Léof to heart, I will not hesitate to let Athanar know.”

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

After hearing Athanar's name, Scyrr paused once again, but only for a short moment. He could see that the woman was taken aback at his last words. She was losing this word-fight - no, he corrected himself, she had already lost, and she knew it.

"Don't you dare to thrat-threaten me with reporting to my lord Athanar," he said in what would have been a confident tone if his tongue had obeyed him completely. "As if he were gonna listen to your whining. I've been in his service since I have I came of age, and even before, I've seen-been seen-seeing him since my childhood. My old father was, and still is, one of his good friends. They are Riders. Lord Athanar values this, you know."

Inside his head, Scyrr was starting to get more and more the feeling that he was having the higher ground. He felt that he should just keep talking and crush this woman with the weight of his words.

"And your Eodwine is not weak because of what you said, no. If it was even true anyway that he don't want to be eorl," he said. "Which it is not. He is weak because he sends his woman to talk and cannot stand up for himself. If that's what you want to hear!" he growled and waved his hand, as if Saeryn was an annoying fly he wanted to chase away.

[Gwathagor]

"Now the real 'them' to watch out for is those women," said Garreth, "Don't trust a one of 'em, I say."

Crabannan had his eyes on the main doors, through which Saeryn had disappeared some moments earlier with a grim expression on her face and a firmness in her step. Crabannan had learned to fear that expression and that tread decades ago, for he found that they were common to all women. Usually, they meant trouble.

"Garreth, shut up. You're as bad as Scyrr in your own way," replied Harreld.

Crabannan glanced down at Harreld and Garreth, in part feeling the rebuke in himself. He had not met Garreth, but he had heard Harreld had a brother, and if this man was not he, then no man was. They were clearly cut from the same cloth...in frame at least.

"I don't know, Harreld -- it sounds like he's speaking from experience."

But his mind was in the conversation. It was on Saeryn. What was going on out there? He had half a mind to step out and see. And, after all, it was warm in here and he could use a breath of fresh air. He wouldn't get involved, just pass by, take a look.

[Folwren]

"Don't you dare to thrat-threaten me with reporting to my lord Athanar. As if he were gonna listen to your whining. I've been in his service since I have I came of age, and even before, I've seen-been seen-seeing him since my childhood. My old father was, and still is, one of his good friends. They are Riders. Lord Athanar values this, you know."

Saeryn did not know how to contain herself. She was angry at more than just Scyrr. She was angry at herself for having gotten herself into a position where she saw no way of escaping without ruining her own reputation. And she saw this knowledge reflected in Scyrr’s face. He seemed to puff himself out, realizing that he had the better of her.

"And your Eodwine is not weak because of what you said, no. If it was even true anyway that he don't want to be eorl. Which it is not. He is weak because he sends his woman to talk and cannot stand up for himself. If that's what you want to hear!"

Perhaps it was that he called Eodwine a liar. Perhaps it was that he called Eodwine a coward. Maybe it was both. But his words caused Saeryn’s temper to snap. She made a sound, half between a scream and growl of rage, and she reached up with both hands, catching a handful of Scyrr’s hair with one and his ear with her other. She hauled his head down while striding swiftly towards the door.

“Come and tell him he’s a coward to his face!” she shouted. “See if he has really asked me to talk for him! See if that’s what you want to hear!”

She kicked open the door, which was already opening from the inside, and jerked mercilessly on Scyrr’s head. “Get out of my way!” she yelled at Falco and Nydfara standing there, and she pushed past Crabannan without a glance. They stumbled into the hall, Scyrr struggling and grappling with her hands and arms, but she pulled without relent on his ear. When they stood well within the doors and had already caught the attention of many people there, she let him go. They stumbled apart and she stretched out her arm, pointing at him.

“My lords!” she shouted above the hubbub of all the other voices. “My lord Eodwine,” she said more poignantly. “This man – this man here – has somewhat that he would say in your hearing."

[Firefoot]

Scyld was startled by the voice coming from below. Falco! Where had he come from? Scyld was unused to be taken by surprise, but the little fellow seemed to have a way of moving about unobtrusively.

"Maybe you and I might lend the Lady Saeryn a hand if trouble starts, if you take my meaning," Falco said.

Scyld did not bother to defend his listening in, but instead reconstrued it. “As you say,” said Scyld, inclining his head. “It seems to me that both of them could do with some watching, though few enough people here seem willing to do so.” Scyld eyed Falco's short stature skeptically. “Though should it come to trouble, I daresay that you shall need me more than I shall need you.”

Before Falco could reply, the door slammed open and Saeryn dragged Scyrr in by his ear, yelling all the while. Shock registered on Scyld's face – he had more expected to have to pull Scyrr off of Saeryn, not the other way around. He leapt into action, trying to pull Scyrr away from her grasp but he only roared louder and batted at him with an arm. Scyld fell back and before he could make another attempt, Saeryn addressed the hall: “My lords! My lord Eodwine. This man – this man here – has somewhat that he would say in your hearing."

Scyld knew his was not the only head that snapped towards Eodwine at the head table. Those who weren't watching Eodwine were watching Scyrr. Nor was Scyld the only one ready to move should more fighting break out. For now, though, he just waited for someone to speak.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Scyrr's face was fully red, both from the large amount of ale he had been consuming as well as now from when Saeryn had dragged him into the hall and the embarassement and anger as he realised that almost all the eyes were upon him. He cast a furious look at the woman, but before he could even think about any way of paying her back for how she had humiliated him by dragging him in front of everyone, Falco and Scyld were between them. Whichever way Scyrr would have acted and whether he would have done anything in front of all the people, even in his drunkenness, thus remained unknown both to himself and the public.

Scyrr therefore tried to straighten himself and look composed. Somehow, he was painfully aware of everyone watching him, he had noticed fellow riders, Áforglaed with his mouth open, Coen, frowning, Athanar, and also Léof and other men sitting around him. One or two of the women carrying the mead around were also looking at him now, and that angered him even more. Then his eyes turned back to Athanar, whose face was completely stern, and that felt like a splash of cold water for Scyrr. The only way he could now think of turning the shame away from himself was to turn it on somebody else.

"My lord Athanar, and everyone here," he roared, however the drunkenness was still heard in his speech, as well as perceived in his rather confused behavior. "This woman – she –" His eyes were searching for Eodwine, and it took him a long time since he had started looking for him from the opposite side of the hall, not realising he was sitting right next to Athanar.

Finally, his eyes met Eodwine's. "There!" he said, pointing his finger at him. "This man sent his woman after me – yes!" murmur rose at these words, but Scyrr shouted louder over it. "Don't you go sending your woman after me!" he yelled towards Eodwine. "If you have anything to tell me, come and face me like a man!"

[Durelin]

Coen did his best to suppress his anger and surprise. Scyrr had left; Coen figured he would cool off and once he was fully back to his senses, he would deal with the troublemaker. And Saeryn had been sitting at her lord's side...when had she left? He did not suspect whatever had happened now to be a chance meeting.

Coen went up to the lord's table and knelt, waiting to be acknowledged by Athanar, who gave him a quick nod. "Yes, I believe this concerns you as well, captain." Coen could almost sense in his lord's voice a wondering of just what 'this' was...

He stood near Scyrr, laying a hand on the man's arm briefly before removing it. "Whatever has happened," he said quietly to the man so that only he would hear, "remember Eodwine is a lord. And Saeryn a lady. Whatever has happened." He did not look at the Lady Saeryn as he wasn't sure what his eyes would betray.

He waited to speak, knowing that the next move was up to the lords, unless Scyrr saw fit to say more. If he did, Coen hoped it was an apology for his insult to Eodwine.

[littlemanpoet]

"This woman – she –" the unnamed man began, then started looking around, confused, until his eyes landed on Eodwine. "There!" He pointed. "This man sent his woman after me – yes! Don't you go sending your woman after me! If you have anything to tell me, come and face me like a man!"

'Horn of Helm!' thought Eodwine. What was this idiocy, and how had Saeryn gotten mixed up in it? Surely the fool had said other than what she had hoped or expected! No, she hadn't. He wagered that she had not thought this through at all, whatever she had done to rile him up.

All eyes were on him. He thought fast, allowing time to stretch, painfully, and did not allow his ire to show on his face. Were he well and not the eorl's counselor, he would teach this fool a lesson with a naked blade. He felt very, very weak.

How to respond? Don't embarrass Saeryn further than she'd already done to herself. Don't demean Athanar or himself. Treat this drunken fool better but no more seriously than he deserved. Ah, that was it. A slow smile came to his face, and he rose from his seat.

"It seems," he grinned, pitching his voice to the crowd, "one of our riders has been a little friendly with his mead cup."

Some of the crowd laughed, albeit nervously. Silence quickly resumed. One would have been able to hear a piece of dust hit the floor.

With a half smile he continued. "And my wife has been zealous for the honor of her husband's name. Can a man ask for more than that?" He grinned broadly.

"Of course he can," one man cried, "an' that bump on her belly says you already have!"

Now the men roared with laughter and Eodwine allowed himself a public chuckle. Once the laughter died down, Eodwine spoke again, looking directly at the man, with a broad smile on his face, but his eyes were hard.

"Rider, I don't know who you are, so I could not have sic'd my wife on you had I wanted to. I'll excuse your words tonight since you're drenched in drink." Then he looked at Saeryn. "Wife of mine, I desire your company here with me. Come stand with me, Lady Saeryn, and see what a fine folk have made Scarburg their home!" He raised his mead cup as Saeryn left the man and came to the table, for how could she refuse in front of the assembly? He knew she had enough sense to follow his lead in this. He gazed out over the crowd. Soon she stood beside him.

"Raise your cup, my dear." She did, and he turned to the folk. "A toast!" He waited for the folk to raise their cups. "To the folk of Scarburg!" He put the cup to his lips and drank.

[Folwren]

Saeryn had not won. There would be no way to win in the situation that she and Scyrr had placed themselves in. She went and stood by Eodwine’s side, but she neither saw the fine folk of Scarburg nor tasted the fine mead that had been made there. She sat down when the toast ended and looked down. She wished she could disappear, but she did not feel at liberty to stand and leave the head table again. Instead, she rested her forehead in one hand, acting as though she were tired and needed to rest her eyes. In reality, it was a ruse to hide her face from the view of everyone, thus concealing her shame.

As the moments passed, the blood in her veins cooled and her mind harped back to the argument. Her face burned with the thought of her rashness, and then her jaw clenched at the remembrance of his words. How had he managed to provoke her with mere words? She had acted like a child taunted by a large boy, and although she knew his words were false, she had struck out and reacted as though they were true, or as though they could harm her or Eodwine. Of course, now when the heat of the moment had passed, she saw that her actions had the potential of shaming him worse than anything Scyrr had said to her out in the courtyard. She had been unable to bear his taunting in private and so she had brought it out to the open.

She was going to cry, she could feel it. Her hands trembled and her throat was swollen shut with emotion. She reached out and touched Eodwine’s hand. Briefly, she looked at his face when he turned to her, but she did not meet his eye.

“Have I your leave to go to our chamber? I am weary of this gathering.”

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Scyrr stood, wordless, still at the same place when the rest of the Hall had raised their cups to the toast. He was completely taken aback by what had just happened. In the flash of a moment, everyone's interest in him suddenly ceased, nobody was watching him anymore. Even Athanar's men at the other table cheered merrily upon Eodwine's proposal.

"He may not be such a bad chap, after all, that Eodwine," Áforglaed evaluated, turning the empty cup in his hand. "Pretty funny, he is, I think. I thought he would be just some annoying old dotard."

"He's not even that old," Baldwic said.

"I know," Áforglaed replied. "But I mean - you know what I mean."

"No," said Baldwic. He cast a quick look over his shoulder. "But hey, look, I think we might want to take Scyrr back here. Or maybe to sleep, that might be safer. Look at him standing there."

"What?" said Áforglaed, distractedly, since he had been just getting his cup refilled, but Baldwic was already gone.

"Come, Scyrr," he approached the now gloomy-looking Rider, standing still on his unsteady feet near the entrance. "Let's go..."

Scyrr looked at him, frowning, but did not say anything. Baldwic took him by his shoulder and led him away.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine felt a light touch to his hand from Saeryn. He faced her silently. She glanced at him briefly. Tears stood in her eyes. She barely opened her lips to speak.

“Have I your leave to go to our chamber? I am weary of this gathering.”

His heart went out to her. It happened so easily, all the time. She was feeling humiliated. It was critical that he not allow her to humiliate herself further.

"Stay with me, my dear. I know it is hard. I do not know what words passed between you and that fool, but clearly he hurt you with his words. I will seek redress in the morning. Stay with me now. You have strength. Be strong."

She shook her head, as though his words were impossible to her.

"Trust me in this, Saeryn," he whispered with greater emphasis. "Leave now and you will seem to all here as if you are beaten. Stay. Raise your chin. Take a deep breath, several. Hold your head high, you are the Lady Saeryn. Hold yourself with firmness to this moment, stay by my side through dinner. Show these folk that you are of far greater mettle than that fool. Rule yourself and show that you are fit to rule others. I will be at your side through all of it."

[Firefoot]

Léof watched the debacle between Saeryn and Scyrr unfold in astonishment. Had Saeryn truly just physically and publicly assaulted Scyrr? And had Scyrr really just publicly denounced Eodwine? And now no one was getting punished, or even reprimanded, for it?

Well did Léof recall the early days of Athanar's reign and the harsh punishments meted out to the original members of the household who had spoken out. He had liked Erbrand and Lithor, far better than he liked these riders who had taken their places.

But then, Léof supposed that was the difference between Athanar and Eodwine. Eodwine was far quicker to let things pass, to give people chances. He had given Léof himself a chance, and so Léof could not find it in himself to inwardly judge the man he still thought of as his lord, no matter how much he would like to see Scyrr punished.

His eyes drifted from Eodwine to Saeryn, now seated beside her husband. Had she gone well and truly mad? He suddenly recalled her flight from the stable this morning, driven from his mind by all the events that had happened since. “It's the baby,” Léof said aloud to the table. “Saeryn has not been acting herself all day long. She really oughtn't be making decisions in her state.”

[Folwren]

Saeryn lifted her head as Eodwine instructed and stared through bleary eyes out at the sea of faces. Her hands twisted in the fabric of her skirt, but she remained still. At first, she did not understand his request for her to stay. But he continued to talk, his voice low and gentle, soothing her, until her breath was calm and the tears were absorbed again.

“Hold yourself with firmness to this moment, stay by my side through dinner. Show these folk that you are of far greater mettle than that fool. Rule yourself and show that you are fit to rule others. I will be at your side through all of it."

She turned and looked at him again, this time her eyes adoring. “Eodwine,” she said, again in a whisper. “I love you.” It was such a simple phrase, but she meant it entirely. He had just been insulted, and yet he showed no anger either towards the man who insulted him or his wife who had caused the whole horrible situation. Instead, he offered her strength and courage to overcome the trial of staying and sitting the night out.

No more could be said here, though. She wanted to talk to him freely, to tell him what she had felt and why she had acted the way she had, but right now that was impossible. So, she would wait.

--

Thornden

Why was it that every time the people were gathered for a special feast or celebration, something absolutely ridiculous happened? Thornden had reacted just as everyone else in the hall had: he became absolutely still when Saeryn and Scyrr made their loud entrance and then felt his heart stop when Scyrr called out Eodwine. When the crisis had passed, and after the first wave of relief had broken across the assembly, keen annoyance and indeed anger flared inside him.

Could Eodwine not return to his hall after a two month’s absence and not be mocked at his table? It was wrong in more ways than one, and Thornden felt it deeply. On the other hand, while answering Scyrr, Eodwine had caused all the other riders to respect him.

He said nothing to any of the riders sitting with him. He listened as Áforglaed and Baldwic exchanged words. He nodded in mute agreement when Baldwic expressed concern that Scyrr be taken away and watched approvingly when he acted on his word and took Scyrr out. Good. Remove the man before any more embarrassing thing might occur.

He picked up his cup again and paused with it half raised to his lips. “Does anyone know why lady Saeryn went out after Scyrr, anyway?” he asked to the men seated near him.

--

Quin

“Decisions!” Quin said, nearly choking on his meat. “What are you talking about? She wasn’t making decisions. She probably wasn’t even thinking. And I don’t think that baby had anything to do with her grabbing Scyrr and hauling him in here. I’m surprised it didn’t get more in her way.” He blushed, once he’d said it and quickly changed the subject.

“I am surprised Eodwine answered him the way he did. Athanar would have had that man’s head.”

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine

Saeryn looked at him with shining eyes. “Eodwine," she whispered, “I love you.”

"You know my heart is yours," he replied. He took her hand in his and they remained so for some time until the vittles arrived at their table.

She did have the mettle he had called upon. He was convinced that it was one of the things that had drawn him to her in the first place. With her by his side, giving him such good words as these, he knew that he would be well very soon. And their life at Scarburg, and wherever they were, would be good. They would have each other. It was enough.

[littlemanpoet]

“It's the baby,” Léof announced. “Saeryn has not been acting herself all day long. She really oughtn't be making decisions in her state.”

“Decisions!” Quin said, nearly choking on his meat. “What are you talking about? She wasn’t making decisions. She probably wasn’t even thinking. And I don’t think that baby had anything to do with her grabbing Scyrr and hauling him in here. I’m surprised it didn’t get more in her way.” His face went red. “I am surprised Eodwine answered him the way he did. Athanar would have had that man’s head.”

"I can't say as I place all the blame on Scyrr," said Garreth. "Maybe he was too much in his drink but she had no call hauling a man in here. She's married and should keep to her husband. What's she think she's doing messing in the business of other men?"

[Durelin]

Tyrdda

Tyrdda laughed. “You have some very nice manners for a rider! I can’t say I have too much of a hand in making the food, but I’ll tell cook he’s fit for a fine hall.”

She put down the bucket and strolled a little toward the man, glad to have a distraction from her work. “A little tense in there, huh?” she jerked her thumb toward the hall. “Not nearly as bad as that first feast when the new lord came. I hope no one makes quite so much a fool of themselves. Drawing a spear in a lord’s hall! Could have been a much worse outcome to that, I tell you.”

~*~

Coenred

Coen quietly thanked Baldwic for taking Scyrr out before heading back to the riders’ table. He felt so weary, as if he were twenty years older or more. How long had he been captain at this hall? It already seemed like a lifetime, and that he had worn out his days as a warrior and a leader, that it was time to pass the position on to someone else.

It was all this…maneuvering. For a small hall, Scarburg had its lion’s share of schemers and troublemakers. Scyrr could be a rabble rouser with his tongue, but he had not quite been the same, not since the fight with Erbrand. Coen imagined Scyrr still felt shamed for that, and a shamed man was much more likely to stir things up to prove himself. And that was precisely why he had not dragged Scyrr from the hall, or ordered him a punishment in front of the men he had been arguing with, or the entire hall… The Lady Saeryn needed to learn a good bit more about men before she went around shoving their noses in their messes like dogs.

Coen sighed and tried to physically shake off his anger. Perhaps he was being no better a dog himself, feeling that his territory had been trespassed. He sat down at the riders’ table. Faerghall turned to him with a sympathetic smile. “A long evening already, eh captain?”

“Truly.” He looked down along the table. No one seemed much bothered by the events passed, thankfully. He hoped that the men, whether old or new to Scarburg, had gotten to know Scyrr enough by now to know he was not a cruel man. No, not patient or kind, but to expect that from a warrior, and a fairly young one at that, was foolish. “You all being well-fed tonight?” he asked, forcing a smile. “Well, don’t get used to it,” he added jestingly.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

The corners of Hilderinc's mouth twitched in almost invisible smile - which, however, for his generally rather impassive face was more than enough of an effort. What Tyrdda said had reminded him of the first evening which could have easily ended up in a catastrophe, and all the trouble that followed.

"I could not agree more," he said. "Still, I believe the biggest jesters have left us after that... a pity, maybe," he wondered, remembering Erbrand. "I did not get the chance to get to know them, but they were among the first ones to talk to me here... well, under different circumstances," he added. Then his mind returned to the present. "But no, I would certainly not object to being spared from events similar to that of the first evening in the coming days."

Hilderinc, too, had overheard some raised voices from inside the hall, and briefly wondered what was going on there. Suddenly, however, something which sounded more like a general - or at least bigger - burst of laughter seemed to echo from the inside. That calmed him down a bit.

"You seem to be right, I wonder what is going on in there," he looked at Tyrdda, who also seemed to have noticed the strange sound. "Maybe there were still some jesters left, then, whom you have managed to keep hidden from us? Unless..." he said thoughtfully, "unless Eodwine brought some with him?" He remembered those who accompanied Eodwine: there was just Falco, but also, he recalled suddenly, that woman whose name he did not even know.

"I assume you might know what is the name of the young woman who came with him?" he said aloud. "Who is she?"

[Firefoot]

Léof hesitated to respond to Garreth's remark. He had always respected Saeryn, but he agreed she shouldn't have dragged Scyrr in here. But she'd been through a lot lately, so he couldn't come down so hard on her as Garreth had.

“She definitely could have handled that better,” Léof agreed. “She should've just told Eodwine about it or something... but I'm not sure they're getting on all right. Do you know, earlier I walked into the hall straight into the middle of them fighting? I don't know what about – they left pretty quick.”

[Folwren]

Quin’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “Fighting?” he repeated, leaning inward. Léof nodded. Quin made a silent whistle and relapsed momentarily into silence. In his mind, he recalled comments the men had been making all morning, ever since Saeryn had first shown spirit since Eodwine’s return. That would be as soon as Eodwine arrived, Quin reflected.

“Some of the men have said something that I find rather doubtful,” Quin said slowly. He leaned forward on his elbows and shared a glance amongst Léof, Garreth, and Harreld. “Garreth, since you seem to have had some experience with women, maybe you’ll be able to explain. I’ve heard at least two of the men say that Eodwine should, how did they put it. . .take a stronger hand with his wife? Control her, I guess, but how do they expect him to do that? I mean, really, I’d be afraid to scrap with her after what I’ve just seen, and if your stories of how awful women can be are true…well, then…” he trailed off noncommittally, clearly confused about the relation between a woman and her husband.

Garreth was unused to being asked to speak as an expert, least of all on the subject of women. He cleared his throat in a show of gravitas. "Well." He had no idea what to say, but that had never stopped him before. "A woman should know her place. A man knows better, about everything that matters. Money. War. Trade. It's just the way things are. But women, they let their feelings rule them." He stopped, feeling like he had said everything that needed to be said.

Quin contemplated Garreth a moment, mulling over his answer before speaking. "What about food?" he asked. "Seems that's one thing of importance that women know more about. And what about the Lady Eowyn? She knew of warfare as well as the next man, if the tales I hear are true. Saeryn reminds me of what I heard of Eowyn. Maybe she's like her. And if she is like Eowyn, how do you and others expect someone like Eodwine, sick as he is, and mild, by all accounts, to 'teach her her place' when the king's command couldn't keep Eowyn home from battle?"

"Well! Ahem. The Lady Eowyn was young and unwise! She was very lucky to escape alive! Food and drink and household chores are where women belong. it's a man's job to make sure they see that."

"Lady Eowyn stood where no man was brave enough to stand and slay the fell beast and its rider," Quin said with some heat. "If you think she'd better have stayed home and seen to her house work, perhaps it's time you re-thought!"

"Um - er - well - she is of the king's house. Maybe things are different for such folk."

Quin sniffed and drew back, allowing the conversation to close. He was not impressed by Garreth. Harreld was a good man, quiet and sober, but Garreth was loud and rough and frequently out of sorts, and this last word against Eowyn annoyed Quin. Eowyn was still highly spoken of in Rohan by most people, men and women alike. It was well known how she had stood by King Theoden when all the others of his household had fled or had been slain. Her deeds were put into song and the songs sung far and wide, and no one, so far as he had ever heard, spoke ill of her.

He did not know quite how Eowyn had been brought into their conversation of Saeryn, but perhaps, if Saeryn was much like Eowyn, maybe she was alright, after all.

[littlemanpoet]

At last dinner was over. Eodwine offered to help with the dishes but was roundly rebuked, told that he was the honored one and it would not do for him to do dishes on such a night. Stigend and Garstan offered to replace him, and a few other men also volunteered, which helped the cooks and serving women to make much quicker work of the clean up than they had anticipated. While they helped in the kitchen, most of the men (who could still stand) moved tables and chairs out of the way.

They came out of the kitchens after a reasonably short while, the women smiling brightly. The minstrels among the folk pealed away from the others, produced lutes, harps, hand-drums, and pipes.

Watching, Eodwine turned to Saeryn. "I think I'd like to get my harp."

[Firefoot]

Eventually the talk turned to subjects less contentious and lighter-hearted, and Léof began again to simply enjoy the banter of friends and the good food. Soon he found himself sitting with an empty plate and a full belly, and all around folk began to break out their instruments. It had been far too long since music and laughter filled the hall.

Léof groaned and said with a laugh, “I am far too stuffed for dancing!”

~*~*~*~
Scyld

Following the incident with Saeryn and Scyrr, Scyld faded back into the background of the hall. He got his tankard refilled, as he originally planned on doing, and took his time making his way back to his seat. He paused at several of the tables to listen to what others were talking about and to chip in with a couple of harmless comments.

He finally sat back down shortly before the music started up. Aldric glanced at him. “You've nearly missed the whole meal,” he said.

Scyld shrugged. “It only takes a little bit from every table and it's as if I sat down for the whole meal here,” he said.

Aldric grunted. “If you are so full, then it is your turn to talk to the wench.”

Scyld was surprised Aldric recalled their earlier conversation so well. He suspected that Aldric was simply eager to see Rowenna turn him down. He said, “But right now the fitting reason to approach a woman would be to ask her to dance, which I have little skill at.” It was not untrue. Under Sorn, Scyld had been afforded little reason or opportunity to learn or practice dancing. However, he was keen enough to have picked up the basics, and he knew that most dances did not require much more than that.

Aldric grunted again, but Scyld was spared further conversation when another soldier turned to Aldric with a question. Scyld turned his gaze back to the larger hall to watch.

[Folwren]

One of the musicians raised his pipe to his lips and burst forth in a merry tune. The others almost immediately picked up on it, setting off at an admirable pace, playing the familiar dance tune brightly and invitingly.

Those they played for did not ignore their invitation. Stigend took Modtryth’s hand and led her out while at the same time Garstan came, swinging Lèoðern about in the air. Before they could join hands in a circle, more couples had arrived: Kara with one of the riders named Aiden, Lilige and Fearghall, Ӕðel and Readwald, and even Frodides with a brave rider who ventured to ask her to dance with him. Rowenna and Ginna were the only two women who stood amongst the men who were not dancing.

Thornden set down a bench he and another had carried out of the way and then set about to ask Rowenna to dance. On the way, he clapped Harreld on the shoulder as he passed, saying, “You should ask Ginna, you know, before some other fellow snatches her and you’re left wishing you were he.” He didn’t wait for a response, but made as straight a line as could be contrived to Rowenna’s side.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna watched the dancing begin. It seemed there were more women in Scarburg than before she had left last time. Where did they all come from, she wondered? For all that, there were not nearly enough women for all the men in the burg.

The piper played a merry tune and the other players picked it up. Rowenna let her head follow the beat, and her feet as well, though she remained standing where she was.

Thornden approached, and he was looking directly at her as he came. She allowed one brow to rise, and a smile slipped onto one side of her mouth as he stopped by her side.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked.

She smiled full. "Of course!" She placed her hand in his and they took a few steps into the open area. She let him start them off on the downbeat, and quickly they were dancing with the rest of them.

Rowenna loved dancing, and she found that she liked dancing with Thornden. He had good rhythm, and he was confident. And he had a nice smile.

"You're good at this!" she said.

[Folwren]

Rowenna followed his lead as admirably as he could wish for.

“You’re good at this!” Rowenna said.

“Only as good as my partner,” he responded. They turned to face out of the large ring of dancers, stepped out with the rest and then fell back. The partners faced and turned, passed each other by the shoulders and then came back.

When their brief separation was over and Thornden had Rowenna’s hands in his again, he commented, “I didn’t know you could dance when I asked you. I’m glad to find you can. You must’ve learned when you were young, as I did.” They turned away from each other and then came spinning back. “Family gatherings and harvest celebrations – that’s when we danced. How ‘bout you?”

[Firefoot]

An uncomfortable and unwelcome wave of jealousy washed over Scyld as he watched Thornden escort Rowenna out onto the dance floor. Well, if he liked it so ill, he should have asked her first, he scolded himself irritably. There had been ample opportunity; it was not as though Thornden had snatched her up without giving another a chance. So if he had not asked her, he could hardly be upset that she had found another partner.

So said the rational part of his brain.

He had feigned lack of interest and told Aldric that he had not wished to ask her to dance because he was a poor dancer. In truth, however, he was scared, and that bothered him. Afraid of a woman? Ha! He had faced many things far scarier than the rejection of a woman.

But she seemed so happy dancing out there with Thornden! And why not? Thornden was a good man, with a not immodest post here at the hall. A good dancer, too, Scyld saw. So be it, if that was what she wanted.

“So she'll dance with that ninny but not with me?” snarled Aldric. So he, too, had noticed. But for once, the thought of needling him further held no allure. The remark was not particularly directed at Scyld anyway, so he did not respond.

What is wrong with me? So she's sharing one dance with Thornden! So what? I'll ask her for the next one, that's what I'll do.

Aldric's conversation had gone on: “You can always cut in on him,” suggested one soldier. This cannot end well, thought Scyld. He briefly considered trying to send him towards Ginna, who stood alone without a partner, but could not bring himself to set such a boor on an unsuspecting girl. He was done interfering. It was too late anyway; Aldric was up and swaggering towards the dance floor.

[littlemanpoet]

“Family gatherings and harvest celebrations – that’s when we danced. How ‘bout you?”

"The same," she grinned. The briefest twinge of grief caught at her just behind the breastbone, but she willed it away and stayed in the moment. They repeated the pattern of separating and passing and returned to each other's hands. "Have you other talents you've kept hidden, Thornden?"

[Folwren]

“Have you other talents you’ve kept hidden, Thornden?” Rowenna asked in the scarce time they had together.

“Oh,” Thornden said, frowning with thought. Rowenna’s eyes twinkled as she tilted her head back farther, still looking at him. Thornden hesitated, trying to think, and once more they were separated in the dance. As they rejoined, he said, “None that I can think of. I can milk a cow.”

Rowenna laughed. They led out and back in, turned away, crossed, and then somebody shouldered Thornden roughly aside and reached out to take Rowenna’s hands as she came back again. For one moment, Rowenna and Thornden’s eyes met, Thornden standing outside the circle of dancers, and then they had swept past, and he stood irresolute and without a partner.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna's hands had been captured by Aldric, of all people! She looked to Thornden for help, but he had been surprised by the rude quickness of Aldric, and stood staring. Rowenna clenched her teeth and allowed Aldric his advantage for the duration of the hold. The moment the pattern required him to let go of her hands, she took the chance and walked straight out of the dance. She walked by Thornden, grabbed his arm, and pulled him with her until she came to a stop against a wall, let go of him, turned, faced outward, and crossed her arms in front of her. She was furious and stared icily at Aldric, who had by this time danced his way back to where she should have been and found himself partnerless. He looked around, confused and quickly getting angry.

"Thornden, please keep that oaf away from me!"

[Firefoot]

Scyld winced as Rowenna stalked off the dance floor, hauling Thornden with her. It only now occurred to him that his own chances with Rowenna might be damped if she were in a bad mood. It took Aldric a moment to realize what had happened, but when he did, Scyld could see his shoulders tightening and a scowl crossing his face. He took a step towards Rowenna and Thornden, now standing against the wall, then stopped. He visibly mastered himself, replacing his frown with an almost-charming smile, and sketched a bow in Rowenna's direction. Scyld could not help but admire his aplomb, at least a little. Then he turned on his heel and walked back toward his friends.

Straight to Scyld. He realized it too late to escape, for it was abundantly clear now to him that he would rather not have Rowenna see him with Aldric. “You know something about her,” hissed Aldric. “Something you didn't tell me. That's why you won't approach her yourself.”

“Really, I know very little,” said Scyld, “save that she is strong-willed, and, well, feisty. But that, I think, you have learned for yourself.”

“You have embarrassed me in front of the whole hall.”

Scyld refrained from saying, You have done that yourself. “Folk are drunk and caught up in their own business. They will not care. Now, if you will excuse me...”

But Aldric caught his arm. “I will not forget this.”

Scyld frowned. “I meant you no harm. Do not tell me you have never been turned aside by a woman.” He pulled his arm away and walked off to find some others to mingle with. As he did, he dared to steal a glance at Rowenna...

[littlemanpoet]

To Rowenna's surprise, Aldric managed an ironic smile and a gallant bow, as if he were admitting himself answered. She hoped so. Then he turned on his heel and walked away, back to his cronies. Directly to Nydfara, and an exchange of heated words. Had he goaded Aldric a second time as well?

"Excuse me, Thornden," she said, "it seems I do not need your shielding." She looked him in the eye and put her hand on his arm. "Thank you," she said, smiling, then moved away.

She walked around the dancers, keeping her eye on the two plotters. It appeared that Aldric was angry with Nydfara and had him by the arm, but Nydfara, scowling, shrugged out of Aldric's grip and left him; but not before he cast a look at the place where Thornden stood. Then he cast a quick glance around the room. They locked eyes. She did not let his go but allowed a grim smile. He looked unsmiling away; she made her way to him. When she came up to him, he was looking away from the dance floor, listening to some other of the Riders talking. She stood behind him.

"Nydfara."

[Firefoot]

“Nydfara.”

Scyld froze. A thousand thoughts passed through his mind in that moment as he slowly turned around. He could not read her tone. Was she upset? Angry? Cold? Neutral? Curious? What did she want?

But Scyld was nothing if not quick with words. “Lady Rowenna,” he said, smiling and slipping back to his wonted half-ironic manner. Up close, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. He forced that thought away and bowed slightly. “Allow me to welcome you back to Scarburg.”

[littlemanpoet]

“Allow me to welcome you back to Scarburg,” Nydfara said with a slight, self-possessed bow.

"Thank you. Care to dance?"

She cast her query between invitation and demand. He hesitated just a moment and raised one brow ever so slightly. with an ironic tilt of his head he said, "Delighted."

They walked arm in arm to the edge of the dance floor. Her heart was racing. She hoped he could not feel that in her pulse. The first song was just coming to a close and a new, more martial song, took its place. The couples stood across from each other and took turns stepping side by side, arm in arm, between all the others, standing, until all had passed between the others, then they skipped around in an arc until they came back to their original positions, and repeated the pattern.

The first time stepping arm in arm, neither of them said a word. The second time, Rowenna felt herself ready, but waited until the last moment before they would part and skip in the wide arc away from each other. She spoke lightly.

"I wonder why you goaded Aldric to pester me not once but twice."

Before he had a chance to react at all, they separated. But she was watching his face.

[Firefoot]

Scyld's eyebrow quirked upward. It was not quite the question he expected, but he knew better than to think there was nothing hidden beneath Rowenna's light tone. He was grateful for the moment's reprise as he skipped down the wide arc, though it was hardly helpful for thinking since he also had to give thought to the dance.

Only a woman would ask him to think and dance at the same time! What a set up.

He could hardly tell her the truth: first it had been amusing, and then it had not. But wait – the question was hardly fair, and aimed to put him at the defensive. She could not know exactly what had passed between him and Aldric, and he could use that. The time stretched interminably as the other couples passed through, but soon enough he found himself linked again to Rowenna.

“I hardly goaded him,” said Scyld. “He had his eye on you long before he said aught to me, and would have tried you no matter what I told him. The second time – perhaps I simply wished to dance with you myself.” With that, he again released her, the unspoken challenge in his face: And what do you make of that?

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna could not read Nydfara's expression, there was too much mixed up in it. He was inviting and off-putting at the same time! How exasperating! But he had said that he had wanted to dance with her, or at least suggested it, which was about as much as she could expect from him. What scared her was how good it made her feel.

All this flashed through her mind as she skipped the wide arc and came back to face him again, the gap for the marching dancers still between them. They watched each other, matching each other's movements as the dance called for, and both were smiling. Was he smiling because he enjoyed dancing with her, or because he was pleased with his own wit? And what had he said to Aldric?

They were dancing side by side again.

"Did you try to discourage him so you could have your chance?" she asked teasingly.

[Firefoot]

Scyld could not help but smile as he watched Rowenna. He had played his cards right; he could see the intrigue in her face. She seemed to be enjoying herself, causing him also to relax into both the dance and the conversation.

"Did you try to discourage him so you could have your chance?" she asked him, as they drew back together. Finally, he could read her tone! Teasing, he could handle.

“Indeed,” said Scyld gravely. Then he grinned conspiratorially at her. “But, alas, Aldric does not seem to understand sarcasm.”

[Lhunardawen]

When Thornden swept Rowenna away, Ginna could not help pitying herself a little for being the sole woman of the hall left without a partner. Even Frodides was out there, laughing as she tried to keep up with a young (at least compared to her) rider who was bold enough to ask her to dance. Inside she felt like an unwatered flower that had slowly begun to wilt and wither, but she held herself up and smiled as she watched everyone around her have a good time. Well, everyone except for that man who snatched Rowenna away from Thornden only to be left alone in the middle of the dance floor just as quickly.

The man came to Rowenna and Thornden and graced her with a bow before walking off with his injured pride. As Ginna watched that scene, she recalled how, in their early days in Scarburg when Eodwine was still Eorl, Harreld had once bowed and kissed her hand in response to her offer of a dance. It seemed like a lifetime ago, a memory that was merely familiar but impersonal. Her eyes welled up with tears. But before her vision could be completely obscured, she saw Rowenna again walking towards the dance floor, arm in arm with the third guy for the night.

Ginna no longer bore Rowenna any ill will, but seeing her dancing with so many men while she stood alone watching from the sides was too much for her. If Harreld had really wanted to dance - even just talk - with her, she could not see why he could not have done so already. She started to retreat surreptitiously to the solace of the women's quarters.

[littlemanpoet]

“But, alas, Aldric does not seem to understand sarcasm.”

Rowenna laughed, as much at his words as his expression.

"Then he will never understand you!"

They separated and danced in the wide arc. She had not had so much fun in longer than she could remember. She did not realize that her smile was brighter and bigger than anyone elses' in the room, and onlookers were noticing.

Suddenly it occurred to her, her smile lessening, that she had meant to give him a piece of her mind about goading Aldric, that she had been very angry. Was he telling her the truth?

They were dancing across from each other again, matching each others' moves again, but she was watching him through narrowed eyes, her smile closed and doubting. Then it was their turn and they closed the gap, linked arms, and marched again between the others. She did not speak, not sure whether to accuse or tease him.

[Firefoot]

Scyld did not think he had ever heard a more wonderful sound than Rowenna's laughter. "Then he will never understand you!" she said, and danced away.

And you think she will? asked a niggling voice in the back of his mind.

She could.

But she'd have to know much more about you. Things you can't tell anyone.

She might understand.

You fool! You've played the part of Nydfara too long. You can't trust these people, no matter what Linduial told you!

He looked across to Rowenna and saw his own doubts echoed in her face. She was smiling still, but not so unreservedly as she had been only moments ago. Had she seen through his facade? Of course not. She could not read his thoughts. But what else could be wrong? He had no time to puzzle it out before the dance joined them back together. She did not say anything, though he supposed it was his turn to speak. He was not ready to let go of the teasing mood he had fostered with Rowenna, but he sensed that some part of her wanted soothing. So he said lightly, "Does something bother my lady?"

[littlemanpoet]

"Does something bother my lady?" he asked lightly.

She liked that, in many ways. She did not know that her cheeks gained a little blush as she smiled, watching their feet. She glanced at him.

"I wonder if I can trust you?"

With that they separated. It was a good thing they were dancing, or the emotions she was feeling would overpower her. She was able to keep the smile on her face and her eyes dry; she was even able to keep the heaviness of doubt a little at bay because of the dance. She allowed her eye to scan the onlookers as she tripped through the arc of the pattern. Thornden was watching; she wanted to dance with him again. She came back to face Nydfara. She looked at his feet to match his moves, then glanced at his face, wondering what she would see.

[Firefoot]

She had surprised him again, but this time Scyld was ready with his reply almost immediately. Unfortunately, though, he was forced to wait, and he turned his attention to Rowenna, studying her as they came around to face each other.

He had been so caught up wondering whether he could trust her that he had forgotten about the opposite problem. Could she trust him? Trust him with what?

Sorn had trusted him, in his way, but Scyld had never felt liking or loyalty to Sorn. Linduial, too, had trusted him, though he had always thought her trust misplaced. In the end, he had helped her out of his own self-interest. Trust was foolish, too easy to betray.

That being said, by comparison there was nothing at risk here. No lives hung in the balance (save his, should his part in Linduial's kidnapping be found out). He supposed it might be considered misleading that he was here under an assumed name, but who did not have secrets in their past?

They drew back together, and Scyld said to her, "If I said that you could trust me, would you believe me? For if I was untrustworthy and wished to take you in, would I not still say yes?"

[littlemanpoet]

Thornden clapped Harreld on the shoulder as he passed, saying, “You should ask Ginna, you know, before some other fellow snatches her and you’re left wishing you were he.”

Harreld sighed and stood with his back to the wall. He saw Ginna across the room. No man asked her to dance. It was not surprising since they all knew that he had claim to her, or at least had at one time. He had said very little to anyone about Ginna, and she no doubt had kept quiet about him. All any other folk at Scarburg would know was that the two did not spend much time together. Perhaps they wondered why, but no one asked.

Harreld wished that he could ask Ginna to dance. After the way he had treated her, he felt that he did not deserve to. At least, not until they talked. He had not had a chance to talk to her this day of so much happening surrounding Eiodwine's return.

But the greatest thing surrounding the former eorl's return for Harreld had been their talk. Harreld rehearsed it in his mind as he started walking over the the living quarters.

Eodwine had wanted to know why Harreld felt that he could not take Ginna to wife, and he had explained, marshaling all his Eorling wisdom. Eodwine had been unimpressed. Maybe a father was a daughter's lord by Eorling ways, but Eorling ways were not the last word on who should wed whom, he had said.

"What is?" Harreld had asked, feeling very much out of his depth.

"The eorl of oafs, of course," Eodwine had grinned, but after his joke he had said something that had stuck with Harreld. Sometimes, Eodwine had said, a thing is meant to be against all odds and against all seeming wisdom. How was one to know? One could not ask for another's wisdom. One must weigh one's own heart. Even with this much, Harreld had held himself skeptical, for it sounded like something out of a Gondorian love geste; he had not heard or read any himself, but had heard of the strange things. "What weighs in the balance, Harreld, is whether your heart tells you to take, or to give. What does your heart tell you about Ginna?"

"Did the law of the Eorlings allow, I would give her anything she asked for, wise or foolish. I cannot help it."

Eodwine had smiled. "There you have it. You are meant for each other."

"Are you sure?" he had asked.

"Sure as I am still alive."

Harreld stopped at the door to the women's quarters. How had he known that Ginna would come this way? He hardly knew. It did not matter. As she approached, looking dismally at the floor, she saw his feet and stopped. She looked up at him, her expression sad but questioning.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

[littlemanpoet]

"If I said that you could trust me, would you believe me? For if I was untrustworthy and wished to take you in, would I not still say yes?"

She watched his eyes for a moment before they separated. It had been a confusing thing he had said. Was that on purpose? Of course, it was: this was Nydfara. She puzzled over it as they danced the arc, and still more as they mirrored opposite each other. It was only just before they linked again that her mind grabbed hold of the key to his words - would I not still say yes? So he was saying 'yes', but in a way that cautioned her. Why the cautioning? That must remain a mystery for now. The song was ending.

"I suppose I shall have to be satisfied with that for now," she replied. They walked side by side to the edge of the dance floor.

Eodwine had come back with his harp and joined the players. They called for a solo.

"My fingers are not so nimble," he demurred, but they insisted. "A slow one, then."

He began a tune they all knew. It was slow but full in plucked harmony. It was a song of sorrow, much lost and little gained. She knew that its ending held a mix of bittersweetness and hope.

She did not know what to think of Nydfara. She was intrigued. There was a hardness to him, and a mystery. She stole a glance at his eyes. Did she detect sorrow in them? She was not sure. He glanced at her and she looked away quickly, realizing perhaps too late that she had allowed a wish to show on her face. She folded her hands in front of her and looked at the floor until the song ended.

[Folwren]

Quin and Léof sat side by side, leaning back against a table while they watched the dancing and commented on what transpired. They critiqued various men’s dancing skills, praised how well the women danced, and remarked upon Frodides' ability and lightness of step. And of course they noted and discussed in depth Aldric’s interruption of Rowenna’s and Thornden’s dance and what followed. Their eyes trailed after Rowenna and Nydfara during the reel.

“They make a good pair, don’t you think?” Quin said towards the end of the dance. He watched while they walked from the floor together, and then stood side by side while Eodwine played his harp. His eyes lingered on the two of them, scarcely listening to the song Eodwine played. He did not care that Léof could easily see where he was looking, and when Eodwine finished, and people had applauded quietly for the song, he drew a sigh and said,

“I wish she’d ask me to dance, like she did Nydfara, ‘cause I’m not going to ask her.”

[Firefoot]

Scyld

Scyld was puzzled by Rowenna's response. It was as if she had expected him to say yes. Or maybe not expected, but hoped? Why? Why would she think that? Why would she want to trust him, or think she could trust him? She knew nothing about him! He had thought she was like him, knowing what the world truly held: pain and heartache and cruelty.

So why did she seem so disappointed? Or was it embarrassment, that had her staring down at her feet? Where had this conversation gone wrong? Scyld was beginning to realize that, for once, he was far out of his league. He was so used to manipulating and using people, to baiting and charming them with a haphazard mix of truth and lies. That was easy, a game he could play in his sleep.

But it was just that. A game. Maybe it was time to let the game go.

But what would be left of him? Would he remain Nydfara forever? Plain, boring, normal Nydfara. Even that was a farce. Just part of the game.

Games were supposed to have winners and losers. Scyld had always thought of himself as the winner and everyone else, losers. But maybe this game didn't have anyone but losers.

The song was drawing to a close. Scyld hadn't heard a single note of it, but he clapped along with the rest of the hall. Rowenna was still determinedly not looking at him, but he spoke to her anyway. “And you, Rowenna?” She turned her head. “Do you think that I could trust you?”

~*~*~*~

Léof

Léof laughed. “I reckon that's pretty smart,” he said. “She's bold as any man, and she's got some pretty strong, well, womanly wiles on top of that.” He didn't remember where he'd heard the term before, but it certainly seemed to fit. “Once, she got Lord Eodwine to loan her his horse for a race that I could've sworn he planned to ride in himself. She wouldn't settle for one of the hall horses – she had to have the best one in the stable. I still don't know how she did it.”

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine finished the song. The hall was silent. One could have heard a leaf drop. Then applause broke out. Rowenna clapped half heartedly.

“And you, Rowenna?” Nydfara was talking. She looked up at him. “Do you think that I could trust you?”

She hesitated. After his hedging answer, what could she say that he would believe? And then she knew what her answer had to be.

"Would you believe me if I said no? Or yes?"

[littlemanpoet]

"Can we talk?"

Ginna's heart raced. She had missed Harreld terribly. But their last conversation had left her wounded, and she was afraid that what he had to say would only inflict more pain. There was no use delaying the inevitable, however.

"Yes, Harreld. But not here. Lead the way."

Harreld had not considered that this place would not be good for talking. He searched his thought quickly to think of where.

"'Tis cold outside. The smithy?"

She nodded. They made their way, he leading. It felt strange. Why did she want to walk behind him? He slowed down. She walked slower. He sighed. What was wrong? No, he would not become irritable. Their last talk had been very painful and she might not want to talk to him much at all. Perhaps he had been foolish to think she would want to talk to him at all. It was too late now. He opened the smithy door for her and she walked through into the dark warmth. The oven was always on, so there was a little light, but not enough for him to tell anything from her expression.

The smithy was delightfully warm, in contrast to the cold air outside. But it had changed since the last time she had entered it. There were more tools now. Garreth's. Ginna realised that the last time she had spoken to Harreld was also in this very same place. And again, like before, she remained silent as she sat down, letting him to speak first.

She sat down and said nothing. Well, he was the one who had wanted to talk.

"Eodwine and I talked about you and me. I hope you don't mind?"

She shook her head no.

"He reminded me of Eomer's disobedience to King Theoden, and that Eomer had been right. Then Eodwine said that I should weigh my heart, whether my aim with you is in taking, or in giving."

Harreld paused. He had come to the brink of his word. He found it hard to say more, and did not know why. Now that he thought about it, he admitted to himself that he had much to gain by taking her to wife. Or was she ready to be done with him?

"I would give you anything you ask. If you'll have me."

[Firefoot]

Scyld smirked and inclined his head in acknowledgment of Rowenna's riposte. Fairly spoken.

“Perhaps,” he replied, not looking directly at her but across the dance floor at the others there, “my trust has nothing to do with whatever answer you might give to my question.” He paused to let her think on that for a moment, but spoke again before she could reply. “And perhaps, it depends upon what you mean by trust.” He faced her and gestured out at the wider hall. “Who do you trust? Eodwine? Saeryn? Her brother Degas? But do you still keep secrets from them? Or perhaps you do not trust them, though a more generous lot I have never met, because you, like me, know that trust is not cheap. And perhaps, the real question you should be asking is not whether you can trust me, but what you can trust me with, and why you would wish to do so.”

Finally Scyld broke off; he could not remember the last time he had strung so many words together at once, for usually he preferred to listen than speak, to learn others' viewpoints and keep his own counsel. Now, though, intensity burned in his normally cool and distant gaze, and he found that he very much wanted for Rowenna to understand.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna did not know some of the words Nydfara used as he gazed out over the crowd; they sounded Gondorian. But she thought she got the gist of his meaning: maybe it would not matter whether she said yes or no to whether he could trust her? As if it did not depend on her answer at all? He spoke again before she could follow that thread of thought any further.

“And perhaps, it depends upon what you mean by trust." He looked down at her and said more than she had ever heard from him. They were wise words, which suggested that they had been dearly bought. "...what you can trust me with, and why you would wish to do so?”

His eyes were on fire in a way she had never seen before. This meant more to him than most things he had said. Her heart's pace quickened. She would not have wanted to tear her eyes away from his had she realized that she was gazing at them with such rapt attention. She was on the verge of spilling out her soul in words she might regret. It scared her more than anything had in a long, long time. She blinked and looked away from him and stared unseeing across the dance floor before answering.

"Oh, I suppose I was thinking of the story of my past, though that is no secret. You have probably heard somewhat of it already."

[Folwren]

“Once, she got Lord Eodwine to loan her his horse for a race that I could've sworn he planned to ride in himself. She wouldn't settle for one of the hall horses – she had to have the best one in the stable. I still don't know how she did it.”

Quin’s eyes opened wide. “He lent her his horse for a race?” he repeated. In Rohan, a man’s horse was more to him than just a beast of burden. Eorlingas cared for and loved their horses. There were close and personal friendships between man and beast, and for the eorl of the hall to give his horse to a woman to ride in his place was something Quin had never imagined possible. It certainly said something about her ‘womanly wiles’, as Léof so aptly put it and it made Quin admire her more, though it did not lend him courage to go ask her for the next dance.

The musicians began to play another lively, exciting tune that fairly pulled the people back out to dance. Quin shot a glance around the room. “There is Kara, yet unasked, I shall-” he stopped short even as he rose, and watched as another rider offered his hand to Kara. Léof laughed at the consternation on Quin’s face.

“Never mind,” Quin said, half crossly. “I shall go and seek out Tyrdda. I haven’t seen her in the hall since they were serving dinner, so I doubt she has a partner.”

[Folwren]

Thornden watched Rowenna and Nydfara with no little amusement. He guessed her purpose in asking Nydfara to dance, and he waited with some anticipation to see the sparks fly. But they didn’t. With surprise, he realized that Nydfara had somehow skillfully averted Rowenna’s anger and they danced not only with politeness but with pleasure! Thornden moved to gain a close and clearer standpoint where he could observe them both during the dance.

There was some chemistry between the two of them that he did not understand. The nature of the dance allowed only brief snatches of conversation and then the partners were split: each time Nydfara and Rowenna parted ways, their faces held new expressions. Thornden followed them like an audience member watching a mute play. He saw them frown thoughtfully, smile with pleasure, cast each other quizzical, doubting looks, and - in her face - questioning and bashfulness. Was Nydfara wooing her?

Throughout the solo that Eodwine played, Thornden watched them standing side by side. From some feet away, he studied her face. Her eyes were downcast, but he could tell her thoughts were racing. Then he looked at Nydfara. He could not read this man at all. Although Nydfara had been here many months, Thornden did not know him well. Nydfara kept to himself and never got in anyone’s way. Up until this moment, Thornden had never found reason to notice Nydfara. Now that he did notice him, he didn’t know what he thought of him. It mattered not. Thornden resolved he would wait and see how matters unfolded between Nydfara and Rowenna, and hence forward he would get to know Nydfara better.

When Eodwine’s song ended and the next dance tune began, Thornden went to lady Saeryn who sat near to where Eodwine played his harp with the other musicians.

“Will you dance with me, lady?” he asked.

Saeryn looked up, surprised at being asked. She had expected everyone to forget her and let her sit by Eodwine, and she would have been happy with that. But Thornden’s request was welcome to her, and she immediately reached up to accept his hand and he led her to the dance floor.

[Firefoot]

Scyld was instantly intrigued. Here it was: the very story that had proved most elusive to him since his coming, and it was being freely offered to him. Forgotten for now was trust; the quest for information and knowledge was an instinct far more deeply instilled in his mind.

“As you say,” said Scyld. “But the little I know can hardly be anywhere near the full story. I had heard you were rescued from bandits after living among them for some time. But of how you came to live there, and of any details, I have heard naught.”

[Firefoot]

Léof grinned, half sympathetic and half teasing, and stood up.

“I suppose I must come with you, to make sure you actually win this fair lady's hand!” he said. And then he'd start looking for a dance partner of his own. He was friendly with nearly all the women of the hall; it should not be that hard... it was all these extra riders. Why hadn't they brought any womenfolk of their own with them?

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna looked at him, allowing a thin smile.

With half closed eyes she said, "I will tell you my story - but not here and now - in exchange for your own. Do we have a deal?"

[Folwren]

"What!" Quin said, looking at Léof sidelong as they walked side by side. "You don't think I could win her hand? Win her hand? I just want to dance with her, not marry her."

He stopped, on second thought and laid hand on Léof's shoulder. "Perhaps you'd better stay behind and let me go out myself." He did not say why - that he thought he ran the risk of Tyrdda preferring Léof to him for a dance.

[Firefoot]

Scyld ought to have seen the request coming, long since. She'd been playing him, with all this talk of trust; his story was what she really wanted. And if she was willing to offer hers first, could she really have anything to hide?

“You drive a hard deal,” Scyld said, trying to buy some extra time. She just continued to give him that cryptic, half-lidded look. What a woman. But he was not sure that her story was worth his own. He had been lulled to near-complacency, but he could not forget the value of his own secrets, nor how dangerous Rowenna might be. He did not know her motives, yet, though he suspected that she had more than one, and he did not know what she would do with the information he gave her.

He could always lie.

Or just leave things out.

“Not here or now,” he agreed finally. “Deal.”

[littlemanpoet]

She had reason to watch his face and his eyes.

“You drive a hard deal.”

She could just about see the thoughts, like a stallion galloping headlong across the fields and stopping suddenly at the edge of marshland, picking its way carefully, stepping back and forth looking for firm footing. She watched the flame go out of his eyes and his expression harden.

What did she think she was doing? Surely she could not trust this man. Why were they even talking and dancing? She could sense the danger in him like a snake waiting patiently in its lair.

“Not here or now,” he said. “Deal.”

"Very well. I will come to you when I am ready. Good night."

More like if, she thought as she turned her back on him and walked away. She needed a new partner to dance with, and right away. She looked for Thornden only to discover that he was dancing with Saeryn. There seemed to be a bit of familiarity between the two of them. She wondered what Eodwine thought of that, if he even noticed?

Ah, there was a likely fellow, Léof. He looked a little lost. This one she could handle.

"Léof! Dance with me?"

[Firefoot]

“Perhaps you'd better stay behind and let me go out myself,” said Quin.

“Oh. Ah, sure,” said Léof, taken off guard. Perhaps Quin didn't want Tyrdda to think he needed moral support just to ask a girl to dance. That must be it. “Whatever you want.”

Quin smiled. “Thanks,” he said, and went off to find Tyrdda, leaving Léof at something of a loss standing there. He looked around, either for a girl to ask to dance (he was skeptical of finding one available), or for someone else to talk to (a more likely prospect). As he turned, he was startled to see Rowenna heading straight for him.

“Léof! Dance with me?” she asked.

He recovered his manners quickly. “I would be honored,” he said politely, and offered her his hand. Inside, however, his thoughts were racing. Why on earth had she picked on him? What was Quin going to think? What about Nydfara over there? He glanced briefly over her shoulder and saw Nydfara watching him. Just ignore him... Léof couldn't help feeling a little triumphant at that, after how Nydfara had needled him this morning. Léof knew, too, that he was a better dancer than Nydfara. So there.

The song was both familiar and lively, and Léof quickly found the beat as he led Rowenna onto the dance floor, stepping and spinning in time. He hadn't the slightest idea of what to say to her, but he decided that was just fine: she had asked him to dance; let her think of something.

[littlemanpoet]

Léof could dance! Rowenna was impressed. It came as naturally to him, it seemed, as being around horses. He seemed to be enjoying himself. He did seem a bit young, but Rowenna reminded herself that she was still quite young herself. It was just that she had had a much tougher life than he. Well, maybe not. She did not know about his life. Why was he, so young, on his own, away from his family? It was something to turn the conversation to at some point.

"I wonder what an ostler's point of view is on all the goings on around here?"

[Firefoot]

"I wonder what an ostler's point of view is on all the goings on around here?"

Had Nydfara put her up to this? Leof immediately wondered as Rowenna spun away from him and then back. No, probably not; he already knows what I think, like everyone else here who cares to know…

“As an ostler? The horses still need feeding and turning out,” Leof said, grinning. “But I am very glad of Eodwine’s recovery and return, of course. Otherwise I find my opinions either overlooked or unappreciated.”

[littlemanpoet]

Léof's grin seemed to belie something simmering in the kettle, as it were. She spun away again considering his last words, of having opinions, and them being more or less ignored. She came back to him. He was taller than he often seemed, maybe because there were no horses around to make him seem short.

"So you have opinions? Tell me one!" she grinned.

[Folwren]

Quin felt just a bit sheepish after asking Léof to stay inside. Indeed, if Léof had objected or said a word about going, Quin would have changed his mind and told him to come along anyway. But Léof didn’t say anything. He just stood there, and he was still standing there when Quin looked back from the kitchen door. He felt another twinge of guilt about asking Léof to stay, but ignored it and went into the kitchen.

The room was empty. He walked across to the outer door and opened it to go out and nearly ran directly into the young woman whom he sought. She was not alone, though, as he expected – Hilderinc was there talking to her.

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” he said. “I didn’t know you were out here. I mean, I didn’t know you both were out here talking. Did you know they’re dancing inside?”

[littlemanpoet]

Ginna did not respond immediately. She was watching him. It made him nervous. Finally she spoke.

"Are you sure this is what you want? What changed since the last time we talked?"

He suddenly realized that he had just proposed marriage. He felt embarrassed, could feel his face heat up. He was glad it was not too light or she would see how red his face was. But maybe she could anyway. And what of that? Was not she going to be his wife? Well, maybe not. She had asked a question. What had she asked? He had forgotten in his sudden rush of thoughts.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Is this what you really want, Harreld? I wouldn't have you going into - into this, riddled with doubts. Or has something changed since we last talked about this?"

"Ah," he smiled. "Nothing has changed since we last talked, except my mind. I would spend all my days with you and none other." He paused, reading what looked like doubt in her face. "But what of you? Have you ... had a change of ... heart?"

Ginna ignored his question, for the meantime. She had a more pressing one of her own.

"And what of my father? How would you deal with his..." She looked away, letting the sentence trail. She did not want to say disapproval but did not know what word would suffice.

"His refusal? As Eomer, I suppose, though I do not think your father could put me under house arrest for taking you to wife, but he could disown you. 'Twould seem the question is yours to answer more than it is mine. What would you do?"

"I do not know," she said with a sigh. "I do not think it would come to that, but if it does..." Ginna stood and looked steadily into his eyes. She came closer.

"The one thing I do know is that my heart has not changed. And it will not. But if my father were to disown me, would you still have me?"

"Aye, I would have you, and keep you, until death parts us."

He stepped closer and wrapped her in his arms.

"No more doubts, Ginna. We will do this together, yes?"

Ginna said nothing, choosing instead to return Harreld's embrace. She did not know how many seconds, minutes, or hours they had stayed that way when a thought came to her.

"Harreld?"

"Yes, my love?"

Ginna smiled. It had always pleased her to hear him address her so.

"How shall we tell them?"

"Instead of telling them just yet, what do you say to going in to dance. Let them all see and make of it what they like." He winked, grinning. "Just a wee bit of mischief, I suppose."

"That's a wonderful idea." Ginna pulled away and looped an arm around Harreld's. "Well then, shall we?"

He looked down at her with as winning a smile as he could manage. "Yes, we shall."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc and Tyrdda's conversation was suddenly interrupted by Quin literally almost running into them from the kitchen.

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” he said. “I didn’t know you were out here. I mean, I didn’t know you both were out here talking. Did you know they’re dancing inside?”

Hilderinc turned towards the main door to the Hall. “Dancing?” he asked, surprised.

“You are saying the word as if you didn't know what it means,” Tyrdda said.

Hilderinc shook his head, for the second time lately a hint of a smile appearing on his face.

“I do, but I haven't danced much for... well, let's say, most of the places I have been staying in lately did not offer such kind of entertainment very often,” he said. “Like before I came to Athanar's service, I had served commander Wintearn at Wold, we were a company of thirty men – no women; and most of the time our home had been only a tent camp in the plains...”

He almost smiled again when he remembered at least one instance when the men had been dancing there: but it was the dance of the Riders, and on top of that, most of them had been drinking before; it was on a cold, winter night, not unlike today.

“Maybe we could go inside, then,” he said. “It is getting really cold out here, isn't it?” He turned to Tyrdda. “Shall we join the others?”

Hilderinc did not really mean it as an invitation to dance, but he did not think about how it might have sounded to Tyrdda – or Quin. He stood up, then looked at the young Rider.

“But what are you doing here, if they are dancing inside?” he nodded towards the Hall.

[Folwren]

“Well,” Quin stammered, “I had been looking for Tyrdda here. I had no idea. . .” He looked from Hilderinc to Tyrdda. Hilderinc hadn’t even known there was a dance going on and he still got a dancing partner before Quin. He grinned drily, trying to put a cheerful face on it. “Well, perhaps I can have the next dance, then,” he said, with little conviction.

They went into the hall through the main doors. Hilderinc led Tyrdda towards the dancers, and Quin slunk back to where he had sat with Léof. He expected erroneously to find Léof there waiting for him. Surprised, Quin looked around for his friend, and then spotted him, dancing with Rowenna.

Quin’s mouth gaped a moment before he could recover himself. He sat down, shut his mouth, and looked away, and he laughed at himself. “Haha! Afraid he might steal Tyrdda from you?” he chuckled, the humor building. “Some people just get all the luck. Well, I’ll have the next dance with Tyrdda, see if I won’t!”

[Firefoot]

Léof had begun to enjoy himself very much; he’d forgotten just how much he enjoyed dancing, and Rowenna was a fine partner.

“So you have opinions? Tell me one!” she said.

Gratified at her interest and already forgetting his caution to Quin about Rowenna’s “womanly wiles,” Léof said, “Well, I think that most of Athanar’s soldiers think far too highly of themselves. And until you asked me to dance, I was also thinking that they were getting all of the women to dance with, which is hardly fair since they didn’t bring any of their own.”

[Folwren]

Thornden and Saeryn danced for some little while in silence. It frequently is easier to dance in silence and just take enjoyment in the movement and the interaction between couples. The fast pace of the tune and the lively mood of the dancers called for quick feet and many steps, and Saeryn felt herself soon tiring. Thornden sensed her premature weariness and to help her to not to feel awkward in dancing slower than the rest, he began a conversation to draw her attention away from how he slowed down his own dancing to match her ability.

“I give you joy for Eodwine’s return,” Thornden said, smiling at her as they turned by two hands. “Things may be easier for you, now that he is back.”

“I hope so,” Saeryn said. “But. . .” she paused. Thornden looked quizzically at her but they had to turn away from each other for the dance. When they rejoined again, her forehead was knit. “I don’t know,” she said, clumsily amputating the sentence she was about to say.

“I think perhaps you expected things to be different than what they ended up being after his return?” Thornden ventured. Saeryn nodded. “You hoped that Eodwine would take something close to his old place as eorl, and that the men would treat him with more respect.”

“Yes,” Saeryn answered. “I can accept Eodwine’s will to give up his place as eorl to Athanar, but I cannot – I will not accept an insult to my husband.”

“Generally it is the husband’s duty to protect his own honor,” Thornden observed mildly.

“Don’t start,” Saeryn snapped.

“I was just saying-”

“That’s what he thought, too, which led into him believing that Eodwine had sent me instead of coming himself.”

“Scyrr?” They parted briefly again. “What did you even get into it about?”

“I was tired of him insulting Léof and I went to tell him so.”

“You should have left that to Eodwine, too,” Thornden said. “Or to me.”

“Did you ask me to dance to call me to task?” Saeryn demanded.

“No. I’m sorry. I am glad that everyone has turned so quickly from the fight and to dancing. Everyone is very lively tonight.” He smiled, and Saeryn rolled her eyes and chuckled. Their talk flowed on and as they danced slowly down the line and back up, they continued to smile and laugh in merry discussion.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

“Well,” Quin stammered, “I had been looking for Tyrdda here. I had no idea... Well, perhaps I can have the next dance, then.”

Hilderinc did not let it show, but truth be told, he was about as bemused as Quin was. He had not actually asked Tyrdda to dance with him, but apparently both her and Quin had interpreted it that way. He felt slightly sorry for the young Rider, but promised himself that he will give him the chance to have the next dance with Tyrdda after their dance.

For now, mustering all his rusty knowledge of dance, he led Tyrdda to the crowd of others. Inside the Hall was warm, lit, merry and full of music. He spotted Eodwine sitting with the rest of the musicians and marveled briefly at his skill with the harp; he also noticed Thornden dancing with Saeryn, and Fearghall nodded at him from next to Lilige, mimicking the words with his lips: “About time.”

Then Hilderinc caught the glance of Léof dancing with the young woman who came with Eodwine, and Hilderinc briefly smiled and gave a small, inconspicuous salute to the “stablemaster” as the woman turned her back to them.

He felt suddenly rather happy. However falling out of the rhythm and messing up a several times, he enjoyed dancing with Tyrdda, and as far as he could say, despite his clumsiness, she enjoyed it too. It must have been, for sure, better than being outside or in the kitchen. When the dance ended, however, Hilderinc felt that it was enough for him, bowed courtly to Tyrdda and led her towards Quin who had been already waiting on the edge of the ring of dancers.

He followed the two young people with his gaze and then, after a while, slowly left the room without anybody noticing. He was in a good mood, but felt like he could go to sleep, too. He headed towards the Riders' quarters, passed over sleeping Scyrr who was snoring with his mouth open just by the door and reached his own sleeping spot.

He had a good feeling about the day, despite its strange beginning with Crabannan and building the sheep pen. And despite the somewhat awkward air of Eodwine's return, he had felt that in the end everything was all right. The people dancing in the Hall seemed happy and undisturbed. Hilderinc crawled into his bed, not remembering when he had last felt this great. It was as if there had been no trouble whatsoever, he was pleasantly tired, the place was warm and before he knew it, he fell into a deep and untroubled sleep.

[littlemanpoet]

"I think that most of Athanar’s soldiers think far too highly of themselves," said Léof. "And until you asked me to dance, I was also thinking that they were getting all of the women to dance with, which is hardly fair since they didn’t bring any of their own.”

Rowenna laughed. "I am graced with two opinions instead of just one!"

By extension, Léof was saying that Athanar's soldiers had too low of opinion of him, which did not surprise her. But the second opinion had carried an unopened insight. Why had the soldiers of Athanar had no women? Had they no wives? Where were their families? Were they all orphans? What of sisters?

"And when you came you did not bring a young lady with you either," she winked. "Indeed, there must be a story to tell there. You are young to be the head of stables, though surely able enough! How did that happen?"

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine was enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he had played his harp. The slow song that he knew so well had been a good beginning, and as he played with the others the old skills came back little by little. It helped that the others were quite good at the rhythm and melodies, leaving him to add harmony as he found his fingers.

He became comfortable enough with the chord repetitions to look up from his fingers at the dance. Thornden had Saeryn out on the dance floor. Eodwine smiled. They make a good couple. Now where had that thought come from? Mildly chagrined, he watched them, wondering if he had taken a woman away from a likely match. But no, they talked like brother and sister.

There was Rowenna with Léof! Eodwine couldn't help smiling, at first at the seeming incongruity, then at the surprisingly good dancing partnership they made. And somehow they were able to talk and dance without missing a step. He shook his head in mild wonder.

That was nothing compared to his surprise when into the hall walked Harreld and Ginna, arm in arm, looking at each other as if nobody else existed. Out they walked onto the dance floor and started dancing in a rhythm of their own, a good deal slower than the 'reel' the musicians were playing. Apparently they had made up. From the look of it, they had far more than made up. Eodwine broke out in a broad grin.

Eodwine looked to the other musicians and mouthed, "How about a slow one next?"

[Firefoot]

Léof did not particularly care to share his story with Rowenna, and fortunately he was given a moment of reprieve to compose his answer when Rowenna twirled away from him.

When they had danced their way back together, Léof replied, “I fear that it is too long of a tale for the dance floor.”

“Some other time, then,” Rowenna said, flashing him that smile of hers.

“Perhaps,” Léof replied, and he could not help but smiling back. They finished the rest of the dance without conversation, just concentrating on the rhythm and steps of the dance. Before too long, the song drew to a close and the pair stepped apart. Léof sketched a bow, and they parted with friendly words. Léof made his way back over to the wall, feeling much more kindly inclined toward Rowenna than he had before the dance. Perhaps he had misjudged her; she really was quite fun, and a talented dancer at that.

[Folwren]

Saeryn woke slowly. She was comfortably warm – warmer than she had been while waking for a long time. The room was still dark, but she could see a dim outline of Eodwine’s face on the pillow beside her. She smiled sleepily, wishing she could lie there all day. It could not be. There was work to be done – more work than all the ladies of Scarburg could keep up with, even with Saeryn’s help. But she didn’t have to get up just yet. She allowed herself the luxury of waking slowly in the dark warmth, looking at her husband as he slept on. Then she lifted herself up on one elbow and leaned over to kiss him once before slipping silently out of bed and then dressing herself in the dark.

She shivered as she hurried down the dark stair and into the kitchen. One of the men was just leaving, a roaring fire built in the fireplace behind him. Frodides was busy mixing some flour and Ginna and Kara came in through the door with water, flushed and puffing with cold.

“Good morning,” Saeryn croaked. She coughed and cleared her throat and tried again. “Good morning. I see you are all hard at work already.”

“We didn’t expect to see you so early,” Frodides said, glancing up. “We thought you’d stay abed longer.”

“I wanted to stay abed longer, I assure you,” Saeryn said. “But I wasn’t going to leave you all the work.” She went to the barrel of salted meat and took out several large pieces.

Ginna and Saeryn

Ginna had already filled a basin with water, and together they rinsed the meat first in a bucket and then laid them to soak in the basin.

As they bent over it together, Saeryn said, “I saw you and Harreld dancing last night. I noticed you two seemed. . ." how could she put it? They had been more companiable, happier, even joyful. "As though you were celebrating something."

"Yes, Saeryn. We were finally able to talk last night. It went well."

Ginna tried, she really tried, but she failed to suppress the wide smile that threatened to form in her lips. She knew she was holding much back, and felt a slight pang of guilt for doing so (especially to Saeryn, who had always been there for her!), but Ginna was in such a good mood that she couldn't help being a little mischievous. And, she thought, it would make for better storytelling to give details a little at a time, as they were demanded.

Saeryn waited expectently a moment, and then seeing that Ginna was not going to open up without prodding, said, "So. . .what did you decide?"

"I did not decide on anything," Ginna said as she carefully dropped a strip of meat in the basin. "Well, nothing new, anyway. You know what I wanted to happen all this time. Harreld, on the other hand..." And she stopped there, letting a grin fill out the missing words.

Saeryn stared at her, her eyes wide. "You mean, he changed his mind? He is going to pursue you, despite what your father said?"

"Yes!" Ginna exclaimed, breathless with joy. "Harreld did not tell me what Eodwine had said in its entirety to help sway him, but it seems I owe much of this to your husband. I do not know what I would do without you two. Thank you, Saeryn."

Saeryn almost put her arms about Ginna in an impulsive hug, but she stopped herself from using her cold, wet hands, and instead just flashed a huge smile that said more than words could about how she felt.

"Eodwine's return will set to right many things, I hope," she said. "I am so happy for you, Ginna! Will you write your father? When. . .did you talk about when you might marry?"

The smile did not leave Ginna's face, but she felt that her happiness was tempered by a sense of sobriety. "We have not gone that far. I guess we are taking things a step at a time. But you are right, I do have to tell my father about this."

Saeryn gave her an encouraging smile. "I think your father will understand, especially if Eodwine sends a letter to tell your father that Harreld is a noble young man and that he approves of your choice."

"He does not have to do that," Ginna replied. "Eodwine has already done so much for us. I shall inform my father myself. Whether or not he understands, Harreld and I have already decided and it will not change."

Saeryn looked admiringly at her, but also with a little sadness. It would not be easy on Ginna if her father did not change his mind. His disapproval could cause the marriage to go forward with difficulty, or perhaps not at all.

They finished putting the meat they needed to soak and as they washed their hands together, Saeryn said, "I will still have Eodwine write. I think it will be best."

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna washed and dressed. It was chilly, she could see fog from her breath. She threw on an extra shawl and went to the kitchens. Frodides and Kara was already there.

"Glad you're up and about at last as you had more fun than is good for a gal last night," said the head cook.

Rowenna merely smiled. "What needs doing?"

"Ready the place for breaking fast. Ginna and Saeryn are readying the bacon. Go get eggs."

Rowenna nodded. She exited the kitchen with a large basket, walked past the roaring fire, and clutching the shawl around her shoulders, went outside. Why did the hen house have to be so far away from the kitchen? Well, because of the stink, of course. Frodides was not doing her an unkindness by sending her to the hens, it was the last job and Rowenna was last up.

She wondered when the men would be getting up. It would be a good hour or more from now, she supposed. They drank more and ate more and stayed up later than the women, at least those who could hold their mead. She wondered if Nydfara had stayed up late. When would he be to breakfast? When would she have time to talk to him? Did she want to talk to him? If she did, what would she say?

She went into the hen house and found a couple dozen eggs. This was going to be a good day. They needed more hens. Frodides would have to spread the eggs pretty thin, as usual.

By the time she got back to the Hall, she had not seen any of the men up and about. Of course not. There was no reason to expect Nydfara up this early. Why had she even bothered to look for him? Silly. She went inside.

[Firefoot]

Léof roused as early as ever, though for once he wished he had not. He cracked open his eyes and could see out his small window that the sky was just barely beginning to lighten. He shut his eyes again, flipped over to face the wall, and burrowed deeper into his blankets. Just for one morning, the horses could wait… why did they have to eat so often, anyway?

But there was no help for it. This was the hour his body was used to waking up at, and though his scratchy eyes begged otherwise, Léof soon gave up on trying to go back to sleep. Bracing himself for the chill, he threw back his blankets and jumped out of bed before he could change his mind. He splashed some water on his face from his small basin and got dressed, his movements somewhat more sluggish than usual. After a moment of fumbling with his breeches, he realized that he'd pulled them on backwards. Ugh, he really was tired. How late had he stayed up last night, anyway? He wondered as stripped them back off to put them on right, then sat down to tug on his boots. It hadn’t seemed so late at the time, with laughter and tales in his head, mead in his veins, and dancing in his feet.

All of his clothing properly in place, he stood up, unlatched his door, and let himself out into the stable aisle. He drew in a deep breath, smelling the wonderful mingled scents of horseflesh and cold, crisp mountain air – and breakfast beginning to cook. He shivered, and wondered if the women might oblige him with something warm. He could sure use it this morning.

The horses were only just beginning to stir; they could wait a few more minutes. His mind made up, he set off for the kitchen. As he emerged from the stables, he saw the kitchen door open and shut as someone went inside, briefly splashing the yard with a rectangle of light. He made his way quickly over and opened the door wide enough to stick his head in. “Good morning, ladies,” he said. “Might I bother you for something warm before breakfast?”

[littlemanpoet]

He had walked through the night. The stars had been clear in the sky all night. One could see from horizon to horizon on these rolling plains.

He was used to trees, tall as towers, his vision limited by them, and that was home. He had known that it would be different, and had not been sure he would like it. So he was glad when he could see them arcing across the sky in their nightly dance.

The sun had risen. There was smoke rising in the distance, just beyond an abrasion in the land. It was not a rolling hill, but a scar on the land, something left behind by the first Dark Lord, perhaps, ages ago. There were humble trees there, too, beyond that rough and rocky terrain that seemed to stretch as far as even an Elven eye could see. He was reluctant to go there.

You have meant to see humans. This is your first chance. Why skirt it?

There were many reasons. But the purpose of this journey had been from the first to transcend those many reasons, to see these Fourth Age humans as they were, foibles and failures and weaknesses and all. He turned toward the scar.

He came to a stop at the crest of the first rise. They will think it cold. The mist of his breath sped on the wind south, away across the rough rises. There was a woman trudging from a hen house to the great room from which the smoke rose. She was fair to look upon. He allowed a sad smirk. No, he would not be tempted to play at bringing Half Elves into the world. That had been done, and no need anymore.

He walked down the slope, up the next, down, up, and came to the final crest. He knew he could not be seen because of his cloak. He parted it and cast it back over his shoulders, and doffed the hood from his head. Let one see me first. Then I will go in.

[littlemanpoet]

He woke up, opened his eyes. The sun's light was shining in through the small window. Eodwine watched the dust particles floating in the air. He yawned and stretched, and could see the vapor from his own breath. Brrrr!

Get up? You must be joking. He sighed. He threw the covers off, hopped around the bed, splashed icy water on his face, felt completely awake, and hurried into his breeches and tunic. And vest. And woolen socks. And shoes. And overcoat. And cloak.

He hurried out of the room, his teeth chattering, down the stairs, to the Hall, and in, and stopped.

"Ahhhh!"

Warmth.

He shuffled over to the hearth and held his hands out in a silent benediction to the fire. Finally he could think about something besides being cold and wanting warmth.

"Drat," he murmured. He had just remembered that buffoon, Scyrr. He would have to go to the Eorl and discuss redress for the injury sustained. It almost put him in a sour mood. He would just have soon forgotten the whole thing if it hadn't happened before them all. Ah, the pains of leadership. He griped to himself, went to the kitchen, bid a quick good morning to all the women working there, grabbed some bread and a wooden cup of water, and made off to see Athanar.