[Groin Redbeard]

“I can answer your question,” Lithor said stepping forward with a bright smile. Time for him to work some magic, to turn a possible disaster into a opportunity.

“It was but two minutes ago when my friend and I where admiring the magnanimous gifts presented to us by the gracious Athanar that we heard a commotion here. I came to inspect the situations, as is my duty as a guard in Eodwine’s house and found that two of our soldiers were quarreling.” Lithor felt that it was necessary to emphasize the word our. He didn’t want Hilderinc to feel as if this was an incident worth reporting to Athanar, who had only just arrived.

“I inquired as to the nature of their quarrel. In short, it appears that that young man there,” Lithor pointed to Áforglæd, “had given my lady such an insult as to make my ears burn. The lad was sorry, however, that he had spoken hastily in insult, but equally as hasty was my friend to uphold the honor of our lady Saeryn! I was unable to pull our two men apart, but thankfully Harreld and Crabanna here intervened. Both brawlers were hasty and wrong was done on both sides, but I pray that you not punish either of them. My friend has defended my lady’s honor and your friend has taught his lesson.”

Hilderinc glanced at Áforglæd and then scanned the surrounding people. “Where is your man?”

“Gone, I’m afraid. That was my doing. I think that it is better to let things settle before he shows himself. Besides, he won’t be hard to find, he’ll be the only one with bruises.” Lithor laughed and searched the man’s eyes—hollow and emotionless.

“He won’t have any reason to hide, will he?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Erbrand

Thank goodness, this wasn’t a grouchy, old, “experienced” (which Erbrand often figured to be a polite way of excusing arrogance) soldier. The man seemed quite genteel, very nice in the way he answered Erbrand’s question. So the counsel is going well then. The people of Scarburg are in good standings with the newcomers! The man introduced himself as Coenred, Athanar’s servant no less—the man with inside knowledge of all his lord’s doings!

“Coenred,” Erbrand let the word roll of his tongue and swirl around in his mind for moment. “My name is Erbrand,” he responded, there was no prestigious epithet that he could give to himself that would impress or interest this person.

“The counsel is going well then, that is good news indeed. Everybody seems on edge right now, it is good to hear that some people are getting along.” Erbrand laughed nervously. Coenred just smiled.

“I am sorry for stopping you like that, I thought you were… well, someone else—a friend.” Erbrand immediately regretted saying that. Idiot! “Someone else?” “a friend?” Stupid, your making this man feel unwelcome and you are looking like the simpleton you are. Make it up to him, show him courtesy.

“Don’t let me stop you from what you were going to do. Perhaps I can help?”

“No thank you, I can take care of it.” Coenred replied courteously.

“Oh but I insist!” Actually Erbrand was in no place to be insisting anything. Coenrad was an influential man and Erbrand was a mere peasant.

Coenred’s response was cut short by loud thuds on the grass behind Erbrand. The noise surprised Erbrand and he spun around quickly to see what had happened. Trunks, lots of heavy trunks were being piled (none too carefully I might add) next to the Meadhall. It suddenly occurred to Erbrand who all these people really were. They were not newcomers as he or Harreld or Rowenna or Dan had been. Their lifestyles were strange from the rustic country folk of Scarburg and their mindsets were equally as different.

It occurred to Erbrand that the majority of the newcomers were city folk, not at all the type that Erbrand liked. He had been a city man not long ago in Aldburg, a large city by Rohan standards yet out far enough to have its rustic qualities. However, that lifestyle was not to his liking at all and while his life at Scarburg had been rough and downright dangerous, he would not trade it for the city life. However, these people were from Edoras, the cushion pillow of Rohan society. To Erbrand, city folk meant soft, soft meant weak, and weak meant death out here in the wilderness, especially with winter coming on. Even the soldiers who this Athanar brought with him looked less hardy than Eodwine’s guards.

Athanar! Erbrand thought with horror of what man this new lord might turn out to be. This lord Athanar is from the city, what does he know of the rough living in the Middle Emnet? I bet he’s one of those cavalier type of Rohirrim that fought in the great war. The type that did valuable service to King Theoden (may he rest in peace) and asked for an earldom: something that he knows nothing about, at least out here. What happened to the type of service that the antique world taught? When service sweat for duty and not for reward. I am young, but I am not for these times when none will sweat, save for promotion and having that, do choke their service up with more ambition. If Athanar be such a man, I will not swear allegiance to him! Lord Eodwine was kind to me, he earned my trust and lady Saeryn earned it by becoming his wife. Athanar will have to earn my love and trust just as Eodwine did, but he will never have it completely.


Erband looked back, Coenred was looking at him in a peculiar manner. At least this one wasn’t all that bad. “Still at your service, sir,” Erbrand said wiping the scowl off his face. Despite his thoughts of these new people, Erbrand liked Coenred (as far as first impressions go).