Scarburg Meadhall

[Groin Redbeard]

It was a very dissapointing round for Erbrand. He watched with a sense frusteration and dissapointment as his throw sent the spear wide of the mark, his luck had surely run out. Crabannan had thrown quite well in both rounds, showing his consistancy and skill. Erbrand envied a man with that type of skill, especially since, where he was from, a man was measured by the his accuracy of his bow, swiftness of his sword, and the power of his throw. However, he was glad that Crabannan hadn't won, he liked Harreld and Degas better than the hot-headed brawler.

"I see that you have some tricks up your sleeve, Crabannan," said Erbrand as he approached him, "tell me where does a man, such as yourself, learn to handle a spear like that?"

"I've been many places," Crabannan responded coldly, "and I've learned many things from many people."

Erbrand's face grew sterner at Crabannan's shifty response, an outright insult in his opinion. It was no more than a way of refusing to answer a simple question.

"Then good luck with the other games, I hope that we might meet each other later in one of them." Crabannan smiled at Erbrand's disguised challenge. He hoped that he would respond approvingly.

[Eönwë]

It would finally be a day of games, when they could rest from all their hard work, and sit back and relax (when they weren't competing). A quick thought about that Oeric fellow flashed through his mind, but he didmissed it. Today he would forget all about the situation. Today he was determined to enjoy himself.

It was later in the morning, and Dan was going towards the grounds where the horse race was going to take place. This would be fun to watch. He saw an unusually happy Erbrand ran straight towards him.

“Dan,” he called, joyfully.

“There you are,” Dan smiled. He hadn't seen Erbrand this happy for ages “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Well you’ve found me now, come we can talk but first I need to warm up Traveller for the races.” He slapped Dan on the shoulder, “come on, I’ll race you to the horses!” And off he ran, leaving Daghan-turi-Dan behind, staring at him. Dan soon followed running up behind him, but as the Scar came into view something stopped him. His carefree mood left him and his faced shaped itself into a scowl. He shouted to Erbrand, telling him that he had some urgent business to attend to.

He ran towards the marshland, to where a month earlier he had found a man, hiding among the bushes, surreptitiously watching the encampment to see if they could offer him everything. The man that had been hiding before Dan had come to Scarburg, and was still hiding now. Oeric.

But something stopped him. This would not do. It was not time to bring back Oeric. Not time to drag back the man who had evaded capture for so long. If he left to find the man, people would wonder where he was, and might even send a search for him. Probably not. Only a few people liked him, and they would be occupied. No-one would miss a half-sized stranger. Still, he said to himself, there was always the risk that they would. If they did, then it would just make the situation worse and they would find Oeric. And that would make Dan look bad. He would be accused of treachery, of being a traitor and jeopardising the welfare of the camp. He could always pretend that he hadn't known Oeric was there, but he was sure he wouldn't be believed. Some knew his skills as a tracker all too well.

He had made up his mind that he would tell Eodwine, so he started off towards the stables again, but then he saw Rowenna bursting out of them, followed by Saeryn on horseback, with Eodwine just standing there with a strange expression on his face. Ah. This was definitely not a good time for him. What was happening he didn't know- and it wasn't his place to wonder. He'd find out soon enough, no doubt. Dan's problems would have to wait.

His internal struggle over, he paced over to the grounds where the horse race would take place and waited for the race to start. He smiled again.

--

After the horse race, there had been the foot race. Dan had never been that good at running, compared to the fellows back home. Even the fasted would have found it hard to compete, as they would have to make to steps for each one a Rohir took. When Erbrand had won the long distance race he went over to try to congratulate him, but was blocked by an impassable croud. He had resolved to talk to him later.

The three-legged race had gone on as planned. He had laughed, along with much of the crowd, at Degas and Little Léoðern. It looked like a fun race. It was a shame he had had no-one to run with. Even Erbrand had someone. But he was just a "wild man", and no-one liked him. He would probably have even less of a chance in the dance later on.

The task-path had been fun. He had almost won! The thought of the race brought a smile to his lips. He was glad it hadn't been too serious, like some events he had seen elsewhere. It was just a chance to have a bit of fun. It was probably, Dan thought, the only time he and Eodwine could run into each other and laugh about it afterwards.

The stone-throwing was notable to watch. He had thought it a mere child's game, and many others seemingly took it less seriously as well, but even if it was, it was true that childre's games were often the most fun. Anyway, Javan wasn't even there and a few men had gotten excited and joined.

Spear throwing had been interesting. He hadn't known how the competition would be run or what would happen. Nevertheless he had given it his best shot, and surprised himself with his score. He had hoped he could win this event, but it was not to be. He would have to wait until later to prove himself.

--

After the spear throwing contest, he resolved to go over and talk to Erbrand about the day so far, and congratulate him on his victories that day. And at the same time, he might find out how the whole Erbrand-Kara thing was going. But even though they were friends, he didn't really expect Erbrand to talk about that. However good he was about running, Erbrand had always seemed shy around women to Dan, and even shyer when talking about them. He knew now that something had changed din his attitude, as he had seen Erbrand and Kara talking happily together. But he would wait until Erbrand brought it up, which would probably be in a few days or even weeks. Dan wasn't impatient, and didn't mind people waiting a while to tell him things. What he didn't like was people purposefully hiding things from him.
Now that was hypocritical! he thought to himself, and his spirits lowered as he remembered about Oeric.

He pushed those thoughts aside, and went towards Erbrand who had just finished talking to Crabannan, disdainfully he thought.

"Hello there Erbrand!" he called.

[Groin Redbeard]

To Erbrand's satisfaction Crabannan accepted his offer under a facade of curtious talking. The sword fight was the most likely place for them to meet and have a chance to really get at each other, Erbrand wanted more than anything to beat the brawler at a fight, to beat him at his own game. Though he wasn't quite sure why he wanted to do this. The the seeds of resentment towards Crabanna had been sown almost since they had met a month ago but never before had the urge to clobber the brute been as strong as it was today. Erbrand pondered on this a moment, thinking it stupid and unprincipled of himself to want to fight a man without a proper reason. Then he remembered where the feelings of hatred at been the strongest: that morning outside his tent when Crabannan asked him about Kara.

Kara, he looked to where she was sitting gleefully with Ginna at her side. At that moment he felt ashamed of himself, ashamed that he had sunken as low as to want to strike a man who wanted the same thing that he did. It was her choice who she would spend her time with not his, so why should clobbering Crabannan change her mind, or is it even Kara that he was trying to prove himself to?

His conscience had unleashed its attacks of logic against his thinking and in a split second Erbrand was confused. Confused at what he was feeling, what the purpose of those feelings are, and what to do about it. He stood for a second thinking about what to do. He still disliked Crabanna and a fight would do him good, but was it all for the right reasons? Erbrand ran his rigid fingers through his hair and gritted his teeth. In the end all of his feelings came down to asking himself one question: what are my feeling towards Kara?

"Hello there Erbrand." came a familiar voice that rocked him out of his thoughtful trancelike state.

"Dan! I'm sorry my thoughts were else-where." his mood changed at his friends approach and soon he was smiling. "I missed you at the beginning of the games, where were you?"

"Oh, I had some business to attend to." came Dan's response, sounding as if he was caught off guard.

"Well wherever you were you must have learned a thing or two about racing. I've never seen a man move as fast as you did on the task-path." Dan laughed pure and carefree laugh.

"A hardened warrior and hunter must overcome many obstacles, though it was not as great as all that." Erbrand chuckled at Dan's attempt at humility.

"What were you preoccupied with?" asked Dan as they began walking to the wrestling location, Erbrand had told Dan that a copper of his will be riding on the outcome of Dan's performance.

Erbrand was slightly startled at Dan's inquisitiveness, it was not in his nature to ask even the most innocent of questions for fear that it might be taken as prying into another man's business. Erbrand looked away and sighed, he stopped walking and then turned as faced Dan, his arms folded across his chest.

"I'm troubled Dan," said Erbrand, trying to be as open as possible, "I've kept this thing to myself for far too long and I feel as if I will explode is I don't let it out." Dan listened patiently, his face not changing in expression. "I'm afraid of what I've become Dan, I eat less, I stay up late and when I do sleep I'm dreaming of the object of my thoughts, the very thing that I wish to avoid for fear of confusing myself with my feelings. I've gone over and over in my head on what to do, but it has come to no avail. She still haunts me wherever I go, I can't escape it."

Dan was surprised at Erbrand's openness, and to tell the truth Erbrand was surprised too.

"Ahh, I'm sorry Dan," said Erbrand, "you did not ask to hear my troubles, I have no right troubling you with them. We'll talk about this alter if you wish, but for now I think it's best if I let it be." Dan nodded in response.

[littlemanpoet]

After the archery contests were done, Eodwine went to Degas and called him aside.

"Will you take a stroll with me, my friend?"

Degas agreed and excused himself from his sister with a bow and a smile; Eodwine did likewise. They were seen to begin a circuit of the current borders of Scarburg. Once they were beyond earshot and the eyes of the others, Eodwine opened up his mind to Degas.

"As you no doubt recall, Degas, about three months ago I made Saeryn the lady and host of my house, an arrangement that was both very unusual and done without your permission."

"Yes," Degas replied, "although my permission though useful to you then, was not legally binding as my brother was yet the head of our house."

"And that is now changed. You asked me what it was that I was doing, and I had the cheek to call it a betrothal." Degas allowed a half smile. "Which," continued Eodwine, "went against all custom of our folk, and it is no wonder that Saeryn fled in the end. In truth, the fault was mine, for I allowed myself to be blinded and deafened by the workings of my own heart."

Eodwine lapsed into silence, considering how his words shifted blame to himself of all those things he had been holding against Saeryn since she had fled.

"Go on," Degas said.

"You have blessed me with knowing your desire that Saeryn become my wife, for which I thank you. But we have not spoken, you and I, of bride price and dowry. Now that you are head of your house, and Saeryn is your sister, what would you have from me in plight for the good of your sister, both while we live, but more to the point, for her security in widowhoood?"

They had reached the southeast corner, overlooking the swamps, and turned the corner, aiming for the scar as Degas screwed up his face in thought.

Eventually he spoke, uncertainly.

"I am not rich," he began. "My family's... my... holdings have always been of modest scale and I still do not know the extent of the damage that has been done in my absence. I do not know what power I hold. I do not know what my lands and my people need with or without my sister, their favorite. Also, rather to the point at the moment: I cannot believe, knowing what I now know of my late brother, that Saeryn's dowry is intact. I do not know what I can give you to help your marriage any more than I know what I should ask of you to help with my lands."

They were approaching the scar, and the area where Dan had apparently gotten stuck, only to be saved by Scyld; or so the story went. Eodwine had doubts about that story, but that must be saved for another time.

"I have a thought," he said. "As you can see, I have little enough to offer in bride price, which drops us both on the same cheap saddle, as it were. What would you say if we three, you, Saeryn and I, swear an oath like that which Gondor and the Eorlingas have sworn to each other, to be friends for life, and come to each other's aid when called? Let that be both bride price and dowry for as long as at least two of the three of us live. What think you?"

"I think well of the idea. It will help neither of us much in the short term, I fear, yet a life long brotherhood is a kingly gift. I fear only that I should die before fathering an heir, and there will be none to hold to my promise in my absence. I will swear to this: as long as I live, you shall have my aid and friendship, and once my own family is settled and growing, you shall have their aid and friendship as well. I only wish I could offer more than the future affections of children not yet born to the wife I have yet to marry."

"My friend, you offer much more than I asked for. I dare not speak for my heirs, and I would not have you speak for yours, if such come to either of us. For now, let it be between the three of us, if Saeryn agrees. If there are heirs on either or both sides, we can consider such things later. What say you?"

Degas laughed, relieved, and clasped Eodwine's hand. "I am much relieved," he grinned. "I say we have a deal."

[Firefoot]

Once the archery targets were cleared away, preparation for the dagger throwing contest began. There were to be two contests of three trials each with the first target to be set at six paces and the second target at twice that. The targets each had four zones: a center yellow circle, surrounded by black, red, then green.

The contestants lined up, and Eodwine opened the competition with a respectable throw to the inside of the red circle. The others followed with Matrim’s dagger going to the green, Wilcred and Harreld to the red, and Saeryn and Rowenna each placing their daggers into the black. No one found the yellow circle. Amongst the spectators there was some good-natured ribbing of the men for letting both ladies outscore them all.

Before the second trial could begin, however, a voice spoke up from the back of the crowd: “I should like to challenge that.” Everyone’s heads turned to see Scyld approaching the front. They regarded him with some surprise, for he had gone largely unnoticed during the day, quietly observing and not putting himself forward to compete.

“Well, this is unusual,” said Lithor, the first to recover his voice, “but I don’t see why not; it is only the first round.” There were some murmurs and nods of general agreement, but more than one eye studied Scyld appraisingly as he stepped up to the line. He took aim, and with a dull thunk his knife found the yellow circle, perhaps a knuckle’s length from the center.

The second trial proceeded with no more interruptions. Eodwine’s dagger struck near his first except now just inside the black circle. Matrim also improved, throwing his dagger to the red circle. Wilcred’s second dagger again found the red circle, but Harreld’s found the black circle, nearly hitting the yellow circle. Saeryn did not fare so well this round, hitting only the outside green ring. Rowenna, however, became the second contestant to hit the yellow, coming even slightly closer than Scyld’s first dagger. Thrown off by this, Scyld’s dagger flew wide and hit the red circle.

In the third trial, Eodwine’s dagger returned to the red circle. Matrim’s dagger hit the target at a poor angle and did not stick at all. Wilcred for the third time hit the red circle, and Harreld’s came within the border of the yellow center. Saeryn, recovering from the second round, hit the black again. Rowenna, concentrating fiercely, again hit the yellow center, winning her the competition before Scyld even threw. Irritated with himself, Scyld again missed the center target but hit the black this time, tying Harreld for second. Saeryn came in fourth, followed by Eodwine, then Wilcred, and last Matrim.

For the next round, the target was moved to twelve paces away. The distance clearly showed its toll as Eodwine, Matrim, Wilcred, and Saeryn all hit the green and Rowenna hit the red, though Harreld and Scyld both still did well, Harreld placing solidly in the black and Scyld just within the yellow. The second trial was hardly better; Matrim and Saeryn both missed the target altogether, and Eodwine’s knife did not stick. Wilcred hit the green again, though Rowenna improved to the black, and Harreld and Scyld each hit the yellow target.

In the third trial, Eodwine hit the black, while Matrim and Rowenna nailed the red. Wilcred and Saeryn both hit the green. Harreld just missed hitting the yellow target, and Scyld won the competition with his third straight dagger to the yellow. Harreld placed second, with Rowenna behind him. Eodwine took fourth now, followed by Matrim and Wilcred and finally Saeryn.

~*~*~

Scyld did not know what had gotten into him. He had made a fool of himself in the first round, challenging like that and then losing – and no less, to a woman! In fact, he had been rather mortified. He now took no joy in his second round victory; it seemed more as something that was his due, for none of the others could have relied so heavily on such a skill in their lives. Clearly in his mind’s eye he could see the scene just ere Linduial was saved, the scene where knife to knife, he and Sorn had fought. Absently he fingered the scar across his brow.

Just then Harreld approached him with his hand extended. “It was a good competition,” he said. “Well done.”

Scyld nearly replied with some surly, condescending remark, but he recalled the role that he must play here and caught himself, smiling back at Harreld and taking his hand. “I thank you. It was close.”

[Groin Redbeard]

Erbrand watched the game with keen interest, it was a different type of skill than he was use to, although he was handy with a knife he could never throw one and hit a target. The skill of the players amazed him, but the performance of Scyld disturbed him. One after another of Scyld's dagger found its mark in the target, and from the look on Scyld's face it was a skill he knew well.

Erbrand had always considered a knife to be cruel when used as a weapon. Although he himself carried one, it was used for practical means, he had not twisted the use of a kitchen utensil into a killing tool. A knife was a thing that muggers concealed in under their garments in order to strike at an unsuspecting passer, a coward's weapon that could be easily be taken up and hidden in moment. Erbrand had always thought that Scyld was a shifty mysterious fellow, however, his distrust began to deepen as he saw how easily Scyld had won.

Like others, Erbrand congratulated the players of the hall. Scyld was smiling proudfully at his victory when Erbrand walked up. The handshake that Erbrand recieved from the victor was loose and shifty, ready to be rid of the hand that clasped it (the type of shake that Erbrand had recieved from peddlers who tried to con him of his goods).

"Well done on the victory," Erbrand said, addressing Scyld, "your skills with a knife are remarkable. Forgive me if I am being too bold, but tell me: where would a man obtain such a skill?"

[Firefoot]

Scyld ought to have known that someone would ask questions; he had indeed been foolish to enter the competition in such a way. Yet, what did he have to hide? His association with Sorn was surely lamentable, but if Linduial was to be believed, he had redeemed himself. Redeemed himself from what? Meaningless words! A man did what he must to survive. For some, this meant an ‘honorable’ path; for others, ‘dishonorable’ – but it was only the honorable men who used such terms.

“A man learns what skills he must,” Scyld told Erbrand. Seeing that a doubtful expression lingered in Erbrand’s face, Scyld smirked and something of his old mood entered his voice. “Perhaps you think knife throwing is not the skill of an honest and straightforward man? Perhaps it is not. But there are places, even in this Fourth Age, even in Rohan, where a straightforward man may well be a dead man. Judge me as you will.”

[Groin Redbeard]

The voice of Scyld had changed, instead of speaking in his usual general terms the man was for once being open. Erbrand guessed that he had struck a nerve. Perhaps there was more to this man than met the eye, not all of him seemed that unpleasant.

"Indeed, the knife is not a tool that I would like to wield in a fight, and there is a certain amount of shrewdness, which a man as myself lacks, if he is to wield one." Erbrand spoke frankly, but with a mood not as heavy as before Scyld's answer. The man had been honest with him, and even though Scyld ignored answering his question directly, he confirmed Erbrand's presumptions about the man.

"Your skills with a knife are far reaching, and no doubt you've learned what you must. I know little of your past, and it is not fair for me to judge you, I did not mean to imply as such, but forgive me if I have."

After another congratulations, Erbrand backed away and went to talke with the players in the next game. He noticed that the sun was descending in the sky it must have been around four hours past midday. This was good thing, the dances would be that night which he had been anxiously awaiting for days.

[Lhunardawen]

Ginna made her way into the crowd surrounding the winners of the dagger throwing contest, her eyes fixed on Harreld. The smith was otherwise occupied with returning congratulatory handshakes, but his gaze on the approaching woman never wavered. Soon those who were near him took the unspoken hint and stepped away, giving Ginna an unhindered path towards him.

The smile on Ginna's face was pleased, yet a little mischievous.

"I seem to be your good luck charm, indeed! Perhaps I should start placing more profitable wagers on you, other than those of mere kitchen chores."

Harreld laughed heartily; Ginna had told him of the gamble she and Kara had had earlier.

[Thinlómien]

Cnebba

After the archery competition, Cnebba was literally jumping up and down in excitement. He had not managed to hit the target on the third round, but I did not matter. He had shot extremely well on the first round and beaten both Garmund and Javan easily. The other boys did not look particularily disappointed, Javan even congratulated Cnebba. "But that doesn't still mean you can shoot on horseback," he reminded in a teasing tone. Cnebba didn't mind - he was on a good mood, and the words were not meant to sting.

"Well done, Cnebba!" a voice called from the distance. Cnebba turned and saw Matrim approaching him and his friends. The young Gondorian seemed cheerful despite his rather poor faring in the competition. "If my friend Balvir there is to be believed," he said, waving a hand at his captain's direction, "we are even now." He gave the boy a grin and patted his shoulder. Cnebba returned the smile. Surely it was much better to beat a soldier in archery than to beat him in mere stone-throwing!

Matrim eyed all the three boys. "I think I have to admit that although Gondorians beat Rohanians in anything easily, you Rohanian archers would beat your Gondorian counterparts any day." All the three boys stared at Matrim unsure how to react, whether to be glad of the offered compliment, or be insulted of the words claiming their people to be inferior to their southern neighbours. Matrim looked at them with equal seriousness until he could not keep the faked expression any longer and started howling with laughter. A little baffled, the boys joined in the laughter too.

"Now, now, that is enough laughing, boys," Matrim concluded after a while, still a bit out of breath after his own burst of laughter. "Next is dagger-throwing. Come and cheer for me. Truth be told, I'm lousy at it, but I will try to put up a proper fight."

~*~

Modtryth

"Cnebba was quite good, wasn't he?" Léoðern asked from her bug.

Modtryth was beaming with a proud smile, but did not say anything. She left it up to the bug to answer. She saw the younger one of the Gondorians approach the boys and seemingly congratulate them and the boys follow him to watch the dagger-throwing. Modtryth suspected there was still stuff to do in the kitchen, and she had seen both Kara and Ginna running around the festive area. She suspected that Frodides would have a sharp remark or two if she was doing something alone in the kitchen. Better check that now that neither Cnebba nor Stigend is competing, she concluded.

"Come, Léoðern, let's go to see what's happening in the kitchen. You may take your bug there, but then you have to wait outside. Frodides doesn't enjoy having bugs in her realm."

Modtryth reached the kitchen, the little girl walking slowly at her wake and carefully holding the bug on her palm. As Modtryth had suspected, Frodides was there and working.

"What's going on there?" she asked as Modtryth arrived.

"Dagger-throwing at the moment, and it's sack-fighting next. Do you need help?"

[Nogrod]

With the help of a few men at arms Stigend and Garstan had produced a decent sack-fight arena while the others were having the dagger-throwing contest. The ridgepole of the earlier hall had been hoisted up about five feet high laying there supported by a stack of some heavy barrels laid on top and beside each other on both ends. And just to be on the safe side they had also put two barrels right in the middle to support the ridgepole. Also fair amounts of hay had been spread under the pole so that the one falling from up there would not hurt himself if he happened to fall in a bad stance.

“So my friends! It’s time for the sackfight! Both contestants have a sack of hay as their weapon and they meet each other up on the pole. The first one to fall is the loser – and there are no rules but that… except no biting!” Lithor called and the crowd gathering around laughed approvingly to the joke.

“Our first match will be between Garmund and Cnebba!” There were loud cheers as the boys seemed to arouse quite a lot of goodwill around the Mead Hall. “And in the next pair we’ll be having Javan and… Kara! And the winners of these two matches will proceed to fight each other on the next round!”

The crowd cheered once again but now with more of a surprise that Kara had joined the game. But it took them a second or two to understand the full effect of what Lithor had just said actually meant – and some claimed afterwards that they had surely seen Lithor to wink an eye at lord Eodwine after that announcement. But no one knows if that was just Lithor’s idea or something planned by lord Eodwine. And anyway, the crowds had more interesting things to see.

Garmund and Cnebba were facing each other on the pole about three yards apart in the starting position when Lithor finally whistled them to start. The two boys eyed each other, both waiting for the other one to make the first move. At one point Cnebba started rolling the sack over his head but soon laid it down again. On another Garmund took a few steps forwards raising the sack up in readiness only to retreat one back. There were some calls from the crowd for action but neither dared to move first.

“C’mon guys! This is no standing contest!” Aethelstan shouted from the crowd and people were laughing. “Should I come and bounce you both off the pole?” Matrim added winking an eye to those around him, producing even more laughter. Stigend and Garstan eyed each other in anguish. They knew how much those both wished to win this one and why they were so careful. It only seemed that some adults didn’t get it that small boys could have a “champion of the titans” -match as well and for them it was that serious as neither dared to lose this one.

“Don’t be such a bore!” shouted Javan in the end igniting the action. Garmund just couldn’t take any more of the laughing – even if it was not ill-natured as such. It still felt bad to be laughed at.

So Garmund charged waving the sack around and yelling as he went. Cnebba had no idea how to defend and took a few steps backwards just to get his own sack some momentum waving it to and fro as he backed away. But Cnebba had no chance of gaining the same energy Garmund was gathering and even if he managed to partly hit Garmund’s sack that was coming right towards his head, deflecting it from a direct hit, he fell back and landed on the log with his legs straddled wide apart. There was a symapthetic “Oohhhh…” from the crowd.

But Cnebba’s sack was in front of him so he ended in a forward-leaning position and managed to grasp Garmund’s leg with his left hand pulling as hard as he could. And Garmund fell down as well, landing on the log as painfully as Cnebba had done. And the crowd went with an “Uuhhh…” even louder as before.

And being the more nimble of the two and already having had time to come to his senses Cnebba was indeed the first back on his feet and waved a blow to Garmund who was just trying to get real with the situation. Garmund fell down. And Cnebba – taken with the force of the blow and the weight of the sack - fell just after him.

“Cnebba is the winner!” Lithor announced and the crowd cheered for the unexpectedly dramatic match after so much indetermination. And the boys seemed not to have been hurt but were indeed shaking hands as they stood up. There were more cheers.


As Javan climbed up to the pole he realised he should be a man worth his words. So after calling for Garmund and cnebba to do something he should be the active one as well. It was a bit awkward to fight a woman but he just couldn’t afford to lose this one. So right after Lithor gave them the go he charged on Kara rolling the sack above his head to give it force but Kara just stood there her eyes piercing Javan’s.

When close enough Javan let his now fast-rolling sack fall on Kara – and had it made a direct hit the resistance of her body would have dampened the effect of the force the sack was going to the left. But Kara hopped backwards just in time to avoid the hit and Javan went falling down with the momentum of his sack and the ensuing imbalance with nothing to stop it.

The crowd burst into laughter and cheers. “Kara is the winner!” Lithor announced. But before Javan had managed to rise up from the hays, Garmund and Cnebba were there to help him up. A few eyes followed that incident keenly… and approvingly.