Scarburg Meadhall

[Groin Redbeard]

"Sir, it is not a question of truthfulness, it is a question of character." Lithor spoke in a low tone to Thornden. Lithor was wary of Wynflaed standing amongst them. So far he disliked her children, had no cause to love her husband, but how would she fair? Her eyes seemed gentle and understanding as Thornden's. They seemed to command for Lithor to continue.

"Madam," he said bowing low. "Sir," he turned again to Thornden. "I have been in squabbles like this before and I know that it is the person with the best character who is believed. Let my past actions be my witness, whether it be a good or an ill one." Lithor turned to Wynflaed and bowed again.

"I crave your pardon, madam, if I seem rude. Today has been a strenuous day for us all and I feel quite out of myself. I trust your sons to be truthful men and I trust that their telling will be accurate. I, therefore, yield to your graces and will speak no more tonight."

[Folwren]

Thornden pressed his lips together. If Lithor would not speak to defend himself, then so be it. "You are retiring, then?" he asked. Lithor nodded. "I bid you goodnight," Thornden said. "I will see you in the morning."

Lithor turned and departed and Thornden turned back towards the hall. Wynflaed walked beside him and Crabannan came a step or so behind. Thornden turned to look at him. "I am sorry I leaped to conclusions just now. I should have known that you weren't looking for trouble."

[Thinlómien]

The two brothers walked to the hall in silence. Wulfric was too aggravated to start about the treachery at hand or about his mother's nannying; he feared that if he let himself start, there would be no end to his rant. Wilheard, on the other hand, was trying to come up with the most painful yet lawful enough ways to revenge on the rascal who had beaten his sister.

They entered the hall, full of warmth and merry chattering of people. They looked with despisal on the unknown faces. Traitors, though Wulfric. Beaters of kids, thought Wilheard.

They found their father deep in conversation with Lady Saeryn and her brother.
"Excuse me my lord, there's something that cannot wait," Wulfric cut in formally, hardly letting Saeryn finish her sentence.

Athanar's blue eyes flashed with annoyance, but also with interest. "I have an important discussion here, Wulfric."
"Not to disrespect, but this could be even more important," said Wulfric. Wilheard nodded in agreement.

For a while, Athanar studied their serious faces and the anger behind their eyes, and rose up then. "Excuse me, Lord Degas, Lady Saeryn..." he said and lead his sons to the corridor next to the hall.

"Now what is it?" he asked with an edge of impatience to his voice.

"The locals act with utmost disrespect towards us," Wilheard said.
"But we can handle that, of course, we are grown up men and we can earn the respect that belongs to us," Wulfric amended quickly, stepping on Wilheard's foot. Why was his brother such an idiot?
"Well what is it then?" Athanar asked, now the impatience clearer in his voice.
"Treachery," said Wulfric. "We heard Thornden discuss with a soldier named Lithor, and Lithor was talking of how Thornden must earn your trust so that the folk that lived here under Eodwine can use it to their advantage."
"And what did Thornden say?"
"He didn't say yes or no."

Lord Athanar shook his head. "Then you are making hasty conclusions and we will not discuss this matter now. There has been enough talk and trouble for today."
"But..." Wulfric protested and Athanar cut in:
"I will nevertheless expect a full report of the discussion tomorrow. I will also want to hear how did you manage to hear the discussion and what happened outside after Thornden came back in and he and your mother left."
"Sure, my lord," Wulfric said stiffly, inclining his head a little.
"Sure, o most noble and gracious liege-lord to whom I give my loyalty until and after my woeful death in the hands of thy enemies," Wilheard said in a mock serious voice and bowed so low that his hair wiped the floor.

"Good night, boys," Athanar said, his eyes glinting with amusement, and went back to the hall.

"Idiot," said Wulfric, and smacked Wilheard.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

"Why do you ask? Did you have any problems with him when he showed you the barracks?"

Hilderinc shook his head firmly. "No, sir. I was just curious. Even though you are now the first in command here, commander Thornden will also be our superior from now on. I think he has not given himself away very much when showing us the barracks, he just lead the way. Of course back then he did not have yet the formal authority."

So, Hilderinc thought, it did not seem that Coenred had any special feelings about Thornden either - not especially positive, but also not especially negative. That was reassuring by itself, although tomorrow and the following days will certainly show more. Hilderinc assumed, given his own experiences with many commanders throughout the years, that he would be able to figure Thornden out quite soon.

And the conditions of this entire stay here - Hilderinc looked over his shoulder at the rest of the soldiers in the hall - will be all the same from the beginning, unless some unexpected things happened. That would mean that accustoming himself to the circumstances will be the most reasonable thing to do in the very beginning, as soon as possible, as it has been always anyway. Many of the young soldiers - and sometimes also old, more experienced ones - made often the mistake of riding against the wind, thinking that the world will change if they fight hard enough. But Hilderinc knew very well that this was not the case. Many soldiers will come complaining about Scarburg, about its other inhabitants, about this and that, while eventually they will get used to Scarburg as it is and succumb to the conditions and the daily rythm of the place. It made one's life a lot easier if he did that earlier than later, though.

Getting accustomed to new commanders and new fellow soldiers was one of the ways to do it. Coen had said it well - "by tomorrow you will all be soldiers of Scarburg". This was exactly the case. They will all be the soldiers of Scarburg, only some would refuse to accept it immediately. But that's how it was. And it was easier to accept it than to learn about it the hard way.

In a way, Hilderinc now pitied that there have not been any more attempts for interaction between the local people and Athanar's folk today - apart from perhaps the very bad and awkward performance from this Lithor, of which Hilderinc still was not sure; the man seemed to be perhaps one of those who, despite their age, seemed to favour riding against the wind. But even apart from that the atmosphere has been possibly just too tense tonight. After some time of drinking and eating Hilderinc now felt more relaxed, even among most of the people the initial unrest seemed to be forgotten, but if they were to be ready to start doing something tomorrow, they would better not start getting acquainted with each other now as that could well last until morning. And Hilderinc at least wanted to have clear head tomorrow of all days, and he would also prefer to feel as little grumpy from having to wake up as possible.

He actually started to think that it might be more reasonable to go to sleep earlier, to return to the barracks before most of the other men do, to claim some good spot for himself. The soldiers would likely make noise while returning, but as a seasoned soldier himself, Hilderinc has learned how to wake up easily and again immediately fall asleep easily and almost anywhere.

He turned back to Coenred. "I think it will be all easier for us to start to work together when you are here in command, sir," he said, thinking now about the soldiers who were familiar with Coenred from Athanar's household. "And it will be easier for those who originate from here that commander Thornden will be there with us, too. You will see us working as one, the soldiers of Scarburg."

Hilderinc intentionally used the word "Scarburg", not "Athanar", and it occured to him that maybe Coen did the same thing before on purpose. Telling the soldiers that they were all soldiers of Scarburg eliminated the gap between those who could - like that Lithor seemed to - still ride against the wind and not accept Athanar's presence, for whatever absurd personal reasons.

Hilderinc was thinking about lifting himself and leaving the table if Coen did not have anything more important to say to his men about tomorrow. Some fresh night air and getting early to bed was just preferrable now.

[Formendacil]

Náin was watching Athanar again. The Dwarf had drawn his own pipe, and was gently tamping a bowl of pipeweed in with his broad, muscular thumb. He had to move briefly towards the fire to find himself a light, since it was more effort to strike tinder and flint than he was interested in exercising, and soon a cloud of sweet-scented smoke was drifting towards the rafters from his corner near the fireplace. Quite possibly, he thought, if it were only Athanar and himself who smoked in Scarburg, the idea might develop that it was some sort of noble past-time.

Degas and Saeryn were left alone as Athanar's sons approached him, and drew him aside to the corridor. Náin watched their interaction through the thickening film of smoke, and shook his head slightly. Young noblemen, it seemed, came all too often in the spoiled model--or, at least, the immature. Wulfric and Wilheard were too old to be acting like children--though they were, in Náin's opinion. It was the curse of the nobility--and of Mannish nobility specifically. Granted, it was years longer before a Dwarf was full-grown, but no nearly-grown adolescents would have acted so obviously puffed up around the Lord of their house, especially if he were their father.

Not that Náin had any idea what the young nobles were cornering their father for. It didn't matter. They had the excited, self-consciously proud bounce to them that said they had something to say that made them important. In an adult, it would be called toadyness, but in children--which they belatedly were--it was simply immaturity.

Here the Dwarf's sympathies were decidedly with the common folk, who had no time for nonsense. In Rohan, as in Dale or Bree or Gondor, if your father was not wealthy, you started labouring with him form a young age--younger than Wilheard, certainly. But when your father was a noble? Náin thought a touch more Dwarvenness would serve Men better, by apprenticing their noble sons to a craftsman, but no noble among Men would ever consider such a thing. So while Náin was both a lord of moderately high standing among his people and a master craftsman, the sons of Athanar would probably never be more than nobles--maybe, if they were lucky, Athanar would send them for soldiering, and they'd learn discipline thus.

Not that it seemed likely. Wulfric, at least, should have been sent off already if he were to serve with the Riders, and Wilheard would ride as well if Éomer had to summon the Muster of the Mark.

As usual, thought Náin, Men do things well up to a point--and then cease being practical because of some unfathomably large blind-spot. So often it was their children.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc's gaze was wandering about the room and for the first time he properly noticed the Dwarf sitting near the fireplace. Now he remembered that he had spotted him before, but his mind was probably occupied by other things at that moment - like Athanar's or Saeryn's speech - and he didn't pay much attention to the short man back then.

Hilderinc had no experience with Dwarves, he had never encountered one face to face, even though he knew many of them were now working at Helm's Deep. This Dwarf was just as Hilderinc had expected Dwarves to be: short, rather square-shaped and with ridiculously long beard. Hilderinc's eyes stopped at him for a while and he also noticed that the Dwarf was smoking a pipe. That only contributed to the alien feeling the Dwarf was giving to Hilderinc. Of course, the habit of smoking was not completely unfamiliar to him, but he had never tried it himself (he did not even expect to have a chance to try it) and it still seemed like a novelty to him. Lord Athanar also had a pipe, Hilderinc has learned about that fact already back in Edoras, shortly after entering into his service. It seemed like an odd habit for an old man like Athanar, but perhaps for the nobles it was an interesting curiosity to occupy themselves with. Actually Athanar might not have been the first of Hilderinc's superiors who had been smoking, Hilderinc was thinking that possibly one of his earlier masters had been smoking as well. If rumours were to be believed, this habit came from one of the strange peoples beyond the Mountains, the holbytlan - in whose land, if rumours were to be believed once again, Saruman of Isengard and Wormtongue have met their end. Folk from the legends and bedtime stories - as Hilderinc kept hearing them since his childhood - yet according to what Hilderinc once heard from one old traveler from the North, they have killed that slippery snake. Too much real for the creatures from children's stories anyway. A bit like these Dwarves.

What was the Dwarf doing here anyway? The Dwarves were rumoured to be good craftsmen, perhaps that was why this one was in Scarburg. But couldn't the former eorl's men have built the Hall by themselves? Hilderinc was wondering about that. The Hall certainly did not seem to be in any better condition than if it was being built by Men only, as far as he could see. Now was this the Mark or some sort of Dwarfland? Maybe it was just the previous lord's whim to have a "special" worksman here. Great lords indeed seemed to have these weird habits. Hilderinc wondered if Athanar was of the same mind, though. But once the Dwarf was here, Athanar would probably leave him in his place. Especially if they shared the pipeweed-smoking habit. But what exactly was this Dwarf's position in Scarburg anyway?

Hilderinc interrupted his thoughts at that point. His mug seemed empty and he was not sure if he wanted to stay around much longer. Maybe a last one, then, and after that it was the time to go.

[Groin Redbeard]

The hall was merrier than when Lithor had left it. Good, it was good to see some mighty cheer within the hall. On the far end Lithor saw the two sons withdraw with their father. How honest would they prove? He would find out tomorrow. On the right hand corner of the hall the soldiers were talking in groups segregated between old and newcomer. His friends Matrim and Balvir seemed to be enjoying themselves, Lithor desperately wanted to talk to them to anyone of his shrinking circle of friends. Those who he had thought knew him well received him with cold stares as he walked along the wall into the barracks. He had half thought of sleeping in the freezing night air rather than sleeping with more than half a dozen soldiers who thought the worst of him, but in the end he decided against it. Let them try and force me out. I still might have friends left. He knelt down on his bed and threw the covers on.

These torments would pass in time. It had been his experience that time and solitude would heal him. For a long time Lithor lay gazing up at the beams thinking of all those faces in the hall and of those two ungentle men who he would encounter tomorrow. No need to worry about that yet, tomorrow will come in its own good time; sleep instead.

~~~~~~~~~~

Erbrand & Girth

The song ended on a fast beat and Erbrand was relieved when he had finished it. Playing such fast songs challenged his mind to race faster than his fingers, but it was very well played.

“Well done good sir!” Someone shouted nearby. It came from a balding man of incredible size sitting to his left in a most liberally comfortable position. Erbrand rose and walked over seeing a good opportunity for a meeting.

“I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance.”

“Pleasure? That is a matter of taste. Few people find pleasure in the acquaintance of a pig master.”

“You attend pigs?”

“Pigs, cattle, goats, all are my own to protect and watch just as Athanar watches over us. I have no such prominence (nor do I seek any mind you) as you but I am proud and content with my status in life.”

Erbrand smiled. “I hold as much prominence in this hall as you, good sir. Tonight’s honor will be gone tomorrow. I am a tanner and craftsman by trade.”

Girth’s eyes brightened when Erbrand said this and eagerly pointed to a chair for Erbrand to sit. “Good! then we may speak as equals and not be bound by the restraints of formality.” Erbrand already began to feel uncomfortable—he liked formal speech. However, Girth pressed on with question after question pertaining from everything from quality of mud (as if Erbrand studied the mud on the bottom of his boots every night) to relations with the locals (as if Erbrand had bumped in to Tancred and his friends everyday in the kitchen). The discussion (rather the questioning) proceeded in this style for a good many minutes leaving Erbrand feeling very tired of the mundane questions he had to answer but also pleased at finding such an open person. Presently the discussion changed.

“Tell me of your former lord.” Girth asked right after Erbrand had finished answering Girth’s previous question. For a moment Erbrand did not know what to say, the thoughts taking form in his mind.

“My former lord?” he said presently, “You mean lord Eodwine.”

“Is that his name? Oh, then tell about this Eodwine. Was he a good lord?”

“I do not think that there is a better man in Rohan, save the king. He was a gentle ruler and did not like to pester his subjects a lot. When something needed doing he would calmly address the people and tell them in the plainest terms what was happening.” Girth listened intently he nodded his head in thought.

“An honest man?”

“I never knew a more humble and honest man than him. My loyalty to him is fierce. I would follow him down a dragon’s throat.”

“Ah, I can see Eodwine was a good lord by the loyalty he instills in his subjects. Loyalty is everything when it comes to ruling.” Girth rubbed his head and looked to where Athanar sat. “What think you of my lord?”

The question was not unexpected, Erbrand had anticipated it. “I have had the privilege of actually talking with your lord, Athanar.” Girth’s eyes widened in amazement. “When I talked with him he sounded reasonable and a good man, as every bit as good as lord Eodwine was. However, I have yet to swear an oath of allegiance to your lord, not that I expect him to ask for one, nor do I intend to give him any.” Girth gave Erbrand a cautious stare, he was speaking too loud. The two leaned closer to each other and Erbrand continued in a suppressed voice.

“I do not like your lord, Athanar, at all!”

“Why so friend? Is it because he ousted your soldier from his place in the middle of the hall?”

“That soldier is a friend of mine.” Erbrand said in a growl. “I have known him to have an honorable and a loving soul. Athanar does not know what he is talking about when he accused Lithor of treason!” Girth leaned back in his chair and viewed Erbrand thoughtfully.

“Go on, sir, continue. What do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I say.”

Girth looked astonished at Erbrand. If there was vocation where bluntness and brute honesty were required, this man would excel at it.

“Know you to who you speak?” Girth asked astonished. “You should curve your tongue a little more. Men in such lowly estates as us cannot afford to be ratted out to our better for such slanderous talk. Athanar is my lord as well as yours now and we should honor him.”

“Aye, and let the Dark One who reigned in Mordor be sometimes honored for his burning throne!” Erbrand’s eyes were lit with rage. His fist slammed down on the table at his last word. Girth looked around uneasily, no one had noticed them.

“Sir, I see honesty in your eyes,” spoke Girth with urgency as if Erbrand’s honesty was a disease that must be cured immediately. “Come now, your full mind is not yet known to me. Empty your thoughts to me and I will empty mine in turn.”

“Athanar has shown nothing but disrespect for Scarburg and its people since his first minute of arrival! First, he strips my lord Thornden and my lady Saeryn of their titles and offers the titles to some of his own people. Then to seem “reasonable” and “kind” he offers them lesser titles.”

“Know you this for certain?”

“Aye, it was as unmistakable as your portly belly in his speech. And speaking of speech, did not lady Saeryn speak wiser than he? Answer truthfully, she was not talking about her wonderful status and how the king gave Eodwine the earldom of of the East Emnet therefore she should be in charge. She was above that, talking of unity. Athanar will treat Saeryn until everyone is calmed down and then toss her out of the hall!” Erbrand was getting too loud once again. Girth urgently motioned for him to quite down. They were not noticed.

“Secondly, Athanar has dared to cudgel us with the terrible news of my lord Eodwine being close to death, may he be spared! That speech he made was full of foul handed tricks, such as suddenly revealing that parchment from the king. Thirdly, Athanar has moved too fast in asserting his lordship and has shown that he is too hard in his dealings with us. A most unjust move to condemn a soldier that he doesn’t know, performing a tradition that he doesn’t honor. Do you not have games at great festivals such as these, Girth?”

“I do not think it was the surprise of such a bold game that angered my lord as it was Lithor’s words. He questioned Athanar’s rule and again questioned him when he was called on it.”

“Ah! Are we to condemn men for inquiring to why they are being accused of treason over a baseless claim? Your lord is too eager to assert himself over us. He expects us to fall in line and follow him without any ceremony of allegiance. Why does he need to rule Scarburg if his objective is to deal with the treacherous nobles? A military expedition would work better in my opinion. Athanar is a tyrant just like the Tancred and Faramund. Those two jackals who he calls sons are devils of the deep too, I can see it in their eyes!”


“Enough, in truth enough!” Girth was not angry, but frightened. This man had changed from being complacent and pleasant to being on the verge of explosion. No, he had exploded and had quite lost his head.

“Calm down friend. You speak too passionately of things that you have no business in speaking of.”

“Is it not my business by whom and how I am ruled over?”

“No sir, in fact it is not. Lords are placed over us by the king himself. An act of defiance against our lords would be an act of defiance against the king. We must go along with the king’s will no matter what.”

“In that you are wrong, good Girth. For the king may appoint nobles to look after us because he knows their abilities as governors, but that does not mean he knows their hearts and the fullness of their minds. Ambition and ingratitude can easily be disguised in modesty and gratitude, patiently waiting until the time is ripe to pick their fruit. Look at the nobles who we have dispute with. Did the king not appoint them too?”

“True, you speak truth, Erbrand. But as long as my lord is an honest man, I need not be ashamed of him.”

“He is not an honest man and I am indeed ashamed of him! My lady has been ousted from her position without a care and replaced. I have heard insults lain on lady Saeryn that make my ears burn. Yet, no action is taking against it; whereas, Athanar demonizes a good soldier for less. Such arrogance is not fit for lords, only for fools.”

“Listen Erbrand, and I mean listen carefully. You may not like how things are going right now, but it may all change soon enough. I know Athanar to be a fair ruler and I doubt not that all will be dealt with and properly balanced. Just like Athanar might have misconceptions about Lithor, so may you about Athanar.” For the first time Erbrand’s complexion softened with surprise. He had never thought of it like that.

“Lord Athanar is ordered by the king to look after us here at Scarburg and he has the king’s authority in the matter. It is only right that he should have command of Scarburg, and I see no treachery or foulness in him producing a piece of parchment that proves his authority. Lady Saeryn will find a position that will suit her and the old Scarburg in time. Tomorrow will be a better day for us all. Though if Lithor is executed for treason, it will make a lier of justice, but I doubt it will come to that. No use fighting it, best accept fate and live with it.”

Girth was indifferent to how is lord ruled just so long as it was honest. He had no ideas of permanently settling at Scarburg, his troubles would all be left behind when his lord decided to up and move. Girth was disturbed by Erbrand’s explosion of rage. Not fifteen minutes ago Girth had seen him acting quite happy with a maid over by the fire. There was love in his eyes then and not a spark of hate, yet this was an uncomfortable warning to what this fellow could fast become. It was unhealthy for a peasant to get too upset about things he could not change. However, Scarburg was a small settlement; perhaps the peasants had more say in their governing than they did in a large city.

“Fate may not always go justly with us,” Erbrand said. “And you are right that we must live with it one way or another, but I will never be silenced from speaking my mind.”

“Of course, friend, I do not wish to silence you. If you choose to get upset over such things then you do that. Simply tone it down a bit.” He smiled.

“I am sorry if I have offended you in my rage against Athanar’s injustice. I now know you to be a man of clear thought and would feign know you better. My first impression of Athanar was that of a good man; I hope he proves to be so again.” Erbrand smiled and rose from his seat.

“That he will, friend, that he will you wait and see. The hour is late and I am tired. Till tomorrow then, and may it prove a brighter day to us all.”