View Single Post
Old 07-14-2008, 08:39 AM   #172
Nogrod
Flame of the Ainulindalë
 
Nogrod's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jan 2006
Location: Wearing rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves in a field behaving as the wind behaves
Posts: 9,330
Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.
Send a message via MSN to Nogrod
Saeryn + the wood-party, afternoon & early evening

Folwren's Post

Saeryn woke again finally in the late afternoon. She felt calmer and collected, strong and able to rise. She lifted her head and looked about. The tent was empty, the flap fastened shut. She gently lifted the light cover off of herself and strained to see her wounded side. The dressing and wrap was fresh and it felt cool and soothing.

She drew a deep breath and then let it out slowly again as she sat up. With only a little difficulty, she rose and dressed herself and then headed out of the tent.

She wanted to see the new holding before darkness fell and she wanted to do it without being hindered. Everyone was at work and no one noticed as she exited the tent. She would explore the place quietly and unobtrusively as possible and then seek the company of the ladies.

Soon, she told herself, she would be one of the inhabitants again. Then no one would ask questions, or wonder about her. This, at least, was her hope. Her past was behind her, and with no one left to come stir it up and to find her, she thought she could be happy and content to stay.



--------------------------


The wood-party...


Nearer the center of the swamp and the Mead Hall the ground had been in part dangerously wet full of puddles and treacherous ditches but walking westwards Stigend and Wilcred found the ground becoming drier and firmer. What first had been mostly ponds and puddles dotted with some hummocks changed into drier ground only spotted with clearly visible drains and ditches. The smile in Stigend’s face grew wider as he spotted the first straight trees standing tall here and there.

“Hah, we should have come here in the first place… Now this looks more like it.” Stigend said delightedly.

“Yes, if not for any other reason, then for the number of mosquitoes…” Wilcred grinned slapping himself to the cheek and watching the three dead insects in his palm. “You need help with yours?” he offered raising his hand ready to a swing.

“You just try…” Stigend said laughing and backed a step only to tumble into a hummock. He fell backwards and rolled over it. Unfortunately behind the hummock there was a small but deep puddle into which Stigend fell head on. Wilcred jumped after and helped Stigend to his feet and out from the puddle. Stigend’s hair and face were dripping muddy water and his shirt was soaked full of half-decayed leaves.

“I’ve heard the fine ladies in Gondor take mud-baths to make their skin more beautiful… I must say I do doubt the effects…” Wilcred grinned. Neither of them was able to keep up the poker and they went on roaring with laughter.


In a few hours the two fell six pine-trees and three firs. And they marked fourteen fallen ones as good for use. In the end it was less Stigend had hoped for but much better he had anticipated after their first effort nearer the Mead Hall.

They took a break sitting on a biggest fir they had fell and sipped some wine from their skins. They were both sweating and their faces and cloths were covered with mud. They had been panting heavily as they had sat down but slowly their breath started to settle down.

“Should we go and see if the guys have rested enough to give us a hand here?” Wilcred finally asked with a grin.

“You go. I’ll start lopping the branches from these fresh ones. We’ll get home earlier…”

Wilcred nodded patting Stigend to the shoulder as he rose up.

Wilcred left and Stigend sat alone for a while. He was in his thoughts. Did I just say “home”? Home? Stigend was confused. They had wandered around for years making their living here and there. There had been no home for him after he had left his parents – and the way it happened wasn’t encouraging any too positive associations to the word home. Home was something belonging to the childhood and past; to the village he had learned to scorn because of the attitudes of the people - especially that of his father - towards his wife and child.

But here he was in a swamp buzzing with insects all soaked and sweating calling a burnt down ruins they had moved in just yesterday his home. No it’s not the ruins… they can’t be it… it’s these people that are my home now. They are? Can people be one’s home? I’ll talk with Modryth about this…


Wilcred found Aethelstan and Osmund wrestling for fun beside a neat pile of logs. They followed him a bit reluctantly but were not arguing or scorning anymore. The feelings had clearly mellowed down and in the end Wilcred outranked them anyway and thence was indeed their superior.

It took them two more hours to drag the trees to the nearest place at the edge of the swamp dry enough for a horse to come and collect them. It was hard work dragging the heavy tree-trunks over the marshland scattered with puddles, ditches and drains. Stigend and Wilcred worked as a pair and Aethelstan and Osmund as another for there was no chance anyone could have dragged one alone. Looking at the robustness of the elder men dragging the trunks with no breaks or moaning first astonished the younger soldiers but then led to them trying to show they were no less tough in the work. Had there not been this “competition” on the part of the younger guys the job would have taken a lot longer.

After the last trunk had been dragged to dry land they all fell down to the grass panting. It was late afternoon already but no one made a move to head back to the Mead Hall.

They had lied down for a few moments when Wilcred broke the silence. “Good job lads, good job…”

“We dragged ten and then the eight back there.” Aethelstan said some pride in his voice.

“And those eight were even harder ones” Osmund added.

Stigend smiled at the bragging. “Yeah, you did a man’s work today. I’ll let Thornden learn about your actions today…”

Stigend could sense the tension his words had caused. Immediately he realised where it came from. He felt he needed to correct the misunderstanding. “Don’t get me wrong guys… Let’s make a deal we somehow just can’t remember anything about the noontime. I’ll promise I will only remember this afternoon when talking to Thornden… I mean I was a bit uptight myself back then as well. I’m sorry about that incident. It was partly my fault as well.”

“Maybe I’m to blame as well. I hope you forgive me my stupid words – I mean you two are tough guys even if you’re older. I know it now.” Osmund pleaded sounding honestly repentant.

“Consider it done Osmund.” Stigend answered. “As I said I’ve forgotten all about it…”

For Aethelstan it was clearly hard to join the general apologies and he remained silent. All four were just lying down in their own thoughts still breathing heavily after the effort.

“Does anyone have any wine left? My skin seems empty.” Wilcred asked after a while.

“Here, catch!” Aethelstan called and threw his skin to Wilcred. “Pass it to Stigend as well.”


It was early evening when the four dead-tired and dirty but good-spirited men finally reached the Mead Hall. Only Stigend was still a bit worried about their wood supply, both it’s quantity and quality. But he would talk about that with lord Eodwine later. Now he was just happy to be back after a good day’s work.

Last edited by Nogrod; 07-14-2008 at 06:59 PM.
Nogrod is offline