Scarburg Meadhall

[Folwren]

The hall had quieted. People had returned to their dinners and conversations were flowing freely now among the people at the tables. Good. Perhaps they were somewhat at their ease. Thornden glanced at Saeryn. She and Degas were speaking to each other. She looked more at ease now that she had spoken her piece and gotten a positive reaction from the people.

Athanar had asked Thornden to speak, but now that it came to it, Thornden did not want to. Even if the others had already recovered from Lithor’s humiliation, he had not. Responsibility hung heavy on his shoulders still, and despite the conscious realization that he really had no part in what had happened, he could not rid himself of the feeling of guilt. His plate was cleared and instead of getting seconds as he very likely would have at any other time, he quietly excused himself to his neighbors and departed from the table and hall.

Briefly he stepped into the guardroom to see if Lithor had gone there. He was no where to be seen, so after Thornden snatched up a cloak, he went out into the courtyard to find him.

A hard frost crunched under his boots as he walked out. He drew the neck of the cloak tight about his throat and watched as his breath went up in a cloud of smoke past the torchlight. Before he could begin to form of a plan of how to search for Lithor, the person in question came round the corner of the stables, walking quickly and in agitation. Thornden strode swiftly to intercept his path and stopped him with a word.

“Lithor?”

He stopped wide eyed as Thornden approached. The torchlight lit up his face, showing the depth of his confusion and surprise but kept Thornden's face a dark silhouette. The silence in the air was now pierced by the eery sound of distant howling. Neither could tell if it was the wind or wolves. Which ever it was, it made for an uncomfortable and foreboding feeling inside Lithor's heart.

"At your service." Lithor bowed as he said this. "Your presence is a surprise," he paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "But it was not entirely unexpected. What is your purpose with me?" It was a dumb question, but one that needed to be asked. Lithor did not know what Thornden thought about his outburst and whether the rebuke that was sure to follow would be soft or hard.

“I wanted to find out where you had gone, to make sure you did yourself no harm, mostly,” Thornden said. He looked at Lithor and regretted that his presence should cause such discomfort in him. “You have nothing to fear from me, Lithor. I have not changed with the coming of lord Athanar. I will guess that I was as surprised as you when he became so angry with you.” His words stalled briefly, for he knew not how to go on.

“However,” he finally said, “what has happened cannot be changed. I expect Athanar to ask of me what should be done to you, and I really have no answer for him. I think you know best where you strayed from propriety, and I wanted to ask you what you think would be the most fair punishment. I do not want you to think that I want you punished, or that I wish to do so unfairly. In truth, Lithor, I believe that were it up to me alone, I would let even your rash words there at the end pass with only a warning. But,” he said, looking back towards the lighted hall, “Athanar felt that he had already been insulted. Those final words were the final straw, I think.”

"Just as the accusation of treason was the last straw for me. I know I have nothing to fear from you, Thornded, so long as I am obedient. And I must say that your offer for me to pass judgement on myself would be like offering the condemned man a choice between a slow or short death-- death will come despite the choice!" Lithor was not angry with Thornden at all, but he was very dissapointed. He thought that Thornden would have known better.

"You are not going to be killed," Thornden said, his voice sharp, not from anger with Lithor, but perhaps with doubt that suddenly attacked him. "I will not back Athanar in such a choice."

"Think with your head, Thornden!" Lithor tapped his temple with vigor. "Learn from what has happened. Lady Saeryn has been ousted from her position by Athanar and he is using me as an example for unquestioning obedience. Did you not see the contempt in his eyes when he looked at you? My action has reflected on your command and right now, to Athanar, it looks very poor. Athanar will do with me what Athanar will do me, your intercedence on my behalf will only make it worse for you and Scarburg." Lithor ended his speech on a grim thought. A silence fell between them.

"I did not mean to sound so forceful, master Thornden." Lithor sounded a bit more timid now, he bowed courteously. "You were right when you said you have not changed, but the fact is that everything has changed. I am old, too old to change and that is one of the reasons why the argument was brought on. But you," Lithor stepped closer to Thornden. The man was more like a boy to Lithor, to think that if Lithor had married his son would be Thornden's age. Lithor had great hope in the younger generation and what he was about to say he could see as clearly as the expression on Thornden's face.

"But you," he began again, "you are young, master Thornden, and you have a great level of prominence in the old Scarburg, which has now been transported to the new Scarburg. Athanar respects you, even if it is little. Don't give him any reason to betray that trust. When Eodwine returns the shift may be very difficult, we will need people who are respected on both sides. And (the Vala forbid it!) if Eodwine does not return you must lead Scarburg to renew the seat to its rightful heir: Saeryn, and later her son! If I have not made myself clear thus far, then in short I am asking you to change with the times. Do not abandon your principles (which a man like you would never do), but co-operate with Athanar and his men."

Lithor was no longer asking or advising Thornden, he was pleading with him. As sure as the stars in the heavens sometimes fall, he was sure that Thornden would one day rise, but it had to be with the rightful heir of Eodwine. Thornden was dutiful and Lithor was sure that he had said nothing that Thornden had not thought over a hundred times; however, sometimes things are clearer when spoken and easier to do if friends support it.

Thornden felt uneasy. He shifted on his feet, and finally forced himself to break from Lithor's gaze. Of course he would cooperate with Athanar and his men, but to do so at the expense of one of Eodwine's men? Not so! That would be to turn his back on more than his principles. That would be to turn his back on his friends, and in effect on Eodwine and Saeryn, both to whom he had sworn fealty.

“Perhaps you have read my position wrong, Lithor,” he said, quietly. How could he say what he had to say, and appear not to be talking badly behind Athanar’s back? He had no wish to strengthen whatever ill thoughts or feelings Lithor had against the new eorl. “I will follow and obey Athanar as far as I am able, but I will not stand by and watch a man innocent of treason be punished for it. I will stand between him and you, even if it means that he will break me while passing. If I am to be brought down to the level of a common soldier, so be it. I was that not more than a year ago.

“But I feel certain that it will not be necessary. Athanar is not a cruel man. Hasty and hard he may be, but he is not cruel. I ask you again, Lithor, take the help I offer, speak to me, and tell me whatever you can that will aid me while I speak to Athanar. Remember, he offered you the choice to talk to me.”

"Indeed, I would rather say this to him in person, Thornden, you understand, but I know that the sight of me will send him into another rage. To tell the truth, the sight of him would do the same to me." Lithor laughed to himself. He wondered if Thornden caught the insult hidden in his words.

"You may tell Athanar that I am sorry for my hasty words. I am sorry for my insults at my better and will accept the consequences of my actions." Lithor did not know what else to say. He was indeed sorry for those things, but nothing more. However, it seemed a till short for an apology.

"Tell Athanar something else from me as well. Tell him that I am a soldier, and an old one at that. I have seen many winters and have experienced the rule of many lords. Tell him that experience has taught me reverence for my superiors and that prudence has taught me the proper ways in which to serve them. I had no intention of an insult of any kind."

It was a genuine expression of his feelings. Seldom did he betray the gloomy side of his heart and he did not wish to show anymore than he had to.

"I thank you for your consolment, master Thornden. It does my old heart good to know that I have friends who care for me. However, if you understand, I would prefer to be alone with my thoughts. I have a lot to think about."

"Of course," Thornden said, nodding. "I will gladly bear your message to Athanar. I am -” he paused, and looked again at Lithor. The man turned his face upwards, expectantly. “I am sorry. . .for what happened. I wish I could have. . .I wish it could have been avoided, and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you there.”

Lithor nodded. “You did grand job stepping in to save me.” He rubbed his chin in thought. "Traitor." he said trying the word of for size. "All my life, I always wanted to be somebody. Now I see that I should have been more specific." A good humored grin brightened his face. He bowed.

Thornden bent his head in answer and then turned to go back to lighted hall and the feasting.

[Thinlómien]

Wilheard

It was a while until Wulfric came back, and he didn't look too happy. And he didn't have any beer.

"Where's our beer?" Wilheard asked. He surely hadn't been sitting on the cold ground for nothing for ages when Wulfric took his time harassing kitchen maids.

"I didn't get any! There was just one grumpy old hag present and she told me that the barrells are all brought to the hall and I can go and get some drink there."

Wilheard couldn't help laughing. The image of slightly drunk Wulf wandering to the kitchen looking for beer and pleasant company and finding just an ugly old cow refusing to give him any beer.

Wilheard found himself laying on the ground, his ear was ringing. "Fool!" Wulfric spit. "Don't you dare make fun of me."

"You hit me," Wilheard said.

"Good point, ninny. You deserved it. For earlier, too," Wulfric replied darkly. "I'm going. Speeches or no, I want beer. Besides there's fire there, so it's not so freaking cold." He started walking back towards the fires.

Wilheard clenched his fists. It would be right to hit him back, but he knew his big brother would start a fight and wouldn't stop before he was one punch ahead. And given that he was bigger and stronger, Wilheard would get more hurt in the process. No, he would take his revenge in some other way. He followed his brother quickly and caught up with him.

They walked a few steps before they froze in their tracks. Two people were talking nearby.

"You are young, master Thornden," said a stranger's voice, clearly an older man. "And you have a great level of prominence in the old Scarburg, which has now been transported to the new Scarburg. Athanar respects you, even if it is little. Don't give him any reason to betray that trust. When Eodwine returns..."

"When what?" Wilheard hissed but Wulfric stepped on his toes. He looked suddenly very alert, and not so drunk at all.

"...very difficult, we will need people who are respected on both sides. And (the Vala forbid it!) if Eodwine does not return you must lead Scarburg to renew the seat to its rightful heir: Saeryn, and later her son!"

"Treason," Wulfric whispered darkly. Wilheard nodded. Scarburg was Lord Athanar's place now, and the rightful heir was Wulf, not any unborn baby of the peasant babe.

The rant went on: "Do not abandon your principles (which a man like you would never do), but co-operate with Athanar and his men."

Wulfric and Wilheard exchanged glances. They waited in eager silence what the commander would reply.

The answer came at length: "Perhaps you have read my position wrong, Lithor."

"Coward," Wilheard mumbled. Wulfric shook his head but didn't say anything.

They listened as the talk continued. There was talk of treachery this man, Lithor, had committed. Wilheard was baffled, and angry. Surely the locals wouldn't start acting treacherous on the first evening? Both the brothers clenched their fists when they heard this old fool offend their father.

"We should tell Father that this idiot is planning treason," Wulfric muttered under his breath when the two Scarburgians were exchanging parting words.

"No," Wilheard protested in whisper.

Wulfric raised an eyebrow and gave him a menacing look.

"I simply think that he has enough in his hands at the moment," Wilheard replied with the hint of a grin. "Surely he can trust his precious sons with some of his worries?"

Wulfric suppressed a laugh and swore affectionately at his little brother. "Let's follow the greybeard. I want to know what he's done to upset Father so."

Quiet as two shadows, the two brothers slipped after Lithor as he walked away.

[Groin Redbeard]

The conversation had wiped out all thoughts from Lithor’s mind. Now he was simply walking for the sake of it and turned his thoughts to more agreeable topics. Each rhythmic crunch of the frozen grass under his feet reminded him of the youthful days and the crunch of gravel under his feet in Edoras. His days as a soldier had been many and he had seen many places and he would be content if he never saw the inside of a city again in his life. Lithor’s trip to Edoras with lord Eodwine brought back pleasant memories of his station there, but he was older now and the streets and people seemed to change. Upon thinking of his recent trip to Edoras, Lithor remembered his stay at Athanar’s house and the peculiar old grouch that he had for a head servant. What a fascinating person. Lithor thought to himself. His unhappiness brings nothing but misery to almost everyone who encounters him, but I cannot help but find amusement in his melancholy. Speaking of melancholy, what are you so upset about, old man? It is like you said: “Athanar will do what Athanar will do” so stop fretting about it. It is like you always say: “cheerfulness is the best road no matter where it ends.”

Finally at peace with himself, Lithor started to head back to the hall. A night’s rest will do him well, especially with the training in the morning. Lithor had walked amongst the tents and makeshift buildings where the “commoners” stayed. He decided to stop by Crabannan’s tent and thank him for the meager defense on his behalf. However, the tent was empty—still feasting in the hall. With his first purpose tried, Lithor turned to his second task before heading to his bed.

“Alright, who’s there?” Lithor asked as if giving up on a guessing game with a child. “I know you have been following me whoever you are. Did not your parents teach you that it is rude to spy on people? Come out so that I may know you better.”

[Thinlómien]

"Alright, who’s there? I know you have been following me whoever you are. Did not your parents teach you that it is rude to spy on people? Come out so that I may know you better."

"Yes, our father taught us manners. But I wonder if your father ever taught you to how to address your superiors, soldier."

Wulfric wanted to make a dramatic pause to increase the effect as he and Wilheard stepped away from the shadows, but he didn't risk too long a pause because he didn't want the greybeard to interfere with his speech; he was having an inspiration.

"But for now, you are forgiven, you couldn't of course have recognised your lord's rightful heirs in the dark. But if I understand the current situation correctly, our father had to teach you something your father forgot to teach you - what a scandal! A man of your age ought to have manners. You are probably twice our father's age."

Wilheard let out a laugh, and Wulfric grinned, pleased with himself. They were edging closer to the man in the dark and enjoying the feeling that with the two of them they would easily overpower the old soldier.

"But there are things I do not understand. One of them is what you said today to upset my father so. He is a wise man, and not provoked easily. The second one is why are you and commander Thornden plotting treason."