Scarburg Meadhall

[Thinlómien]

"This is insufferable!" Wulfric shouted. He and his brother were on a ride again, and they had ridden for an hour without saying anything. Wulfric's face had been as dark as a storm cloud ever since the hearing, and now he had seemed to decide to let it all out. Fine, Wilheard shrugged. Let him rant if helped him. He too was annoyed at many things, but he thought his big brother was being overtly dramatic, as so often.

"Will, what have I done wrong? What have we done wrong? What have I done to deserve to be disinherited like some disgraceful vagrant?"

Wilheard could think of many witty replies, but for once he kept his mouth shut. He didn't truly understand why his father had done what he had, and he was angry for his brother too. But truth be told, it didn't really concern him. He was born the second son, and he had always known he would have to make his own life, earn his own place in the military and not inherit land or holdings. Undoubtedly, it was different from Wulfric's perspective.

"What is my crime, Will?" Wulfric's eyes were full of anguish, and Wilheard could feel his brother's pain. But there was nothing he could say to help him, he understood the situation even less than his brother did. Wulfric had always been the politician, the one who understood the twists and turns, the chances and ways of power. If he was at loss, Wilheard was even more so.

"I don't understand. I did everything they wanted me to! I worked hard to become a soldier, and I was the best in my class. No other son of an Eorlinga ever bested me in a fight.

I learned first how to take care of my horse, and as I grew older I was given the unofficial responsibility to look after you, my little brother. In my training, I was appointed to lead and tutor younger boys and show them what it is to be an Eorling soldier. I strived to be a good leader. I never failed Blackmane or Northwind, nor you, nor any of the lads.

I always did my duties. Maybe not always without grumbling, but I did them. I broke some rules too, that I know, but if somebody says I didn't suffer my punishments like a man, he is a liar and deserves to be flogged.

What is a man that doesn't make mistakes? Am I to suffer a lifetime shame because played pranks on the shepherd when I was but a boy? Am I deemed unworthy because I wooed the miller's or the innkeeper's daughter or because I drank on duty?

Or because yesterday I followed a traitor plotting against my lord and tried to make him talk?

Is this my fate? Has another man ever been so wronged in his life, or do I truly deserve all this from my father whom I always strived to obey and respect like a loyal son?"

Wulfric let out a wail and looked to the sky, as if challenging the gods to be his witness. Wilheard could see tears running down his face. It was not a usual sight, and it made Wilheard's heart burn with fury. His brother spoke true - he had always been an ideal Eorling warrior: the biggest, the brutest, the boldest and looking after his underlings with utmost care. He did not deserve this kind of humiliation or questioning his value, not to mention being substituted by a whining peasant girl and her unborn child. Their father must have gone cracked.

Indeed, the more he thought of that, the more it seemed like that. Athanar as Wilheard remembered him had been a gentle father, noble and distant, but definitely full of goodwill, unlike their mother who had had no patience for boyish whims or cheerfulness and who had often scolded them with harsh words. And Athanar had definitely been a lord to be proud of.

But who was this Athanar they had come back to from the military? He was noble, and gentle, but definitely cracked. His gentleness and turned to weakness - how often did Athanar's eyes glimmer with tears when he recalled something from the past, how meek punishments he executed on his subjects? And who in their right mind would disinherit their eldest son, especially if it was someone like Wulfric?

Wilheard thought maybe this would make Wulfric feel better, so he told his brother as much. Wulfric nodded fervently. "It must be the only explanation. It would also explain why he treated us today like he did." Wulfric's face grew dark on the thought of it, and he would have started another rant had Wilheard not been quicker. He was offended by their father's behaviour towards them too.

"First he publicly inherits us without bothering to tell us first. Apparently we are not worth that.

Then, he talks to us as if we were barely away from mother's breasts. He talks to us as if we are idiots, in front of all the people. Good that he didn't call us 'kiddies'!"

"Indeed", Wulfric growled in a low voice. "And then, on top of all that ridicule, he exerts on us a punishment that could be given to some ten-year olds! Go do a little chippadeedoo duty with uncle Lithor. And behave nicely, boys. No poking fingers in each other's noses!"

Despite everything, Wilheard had to laugh. He had always been the witty one out of the two, but Wulfric could have his way with words when he was angry.

"Although, we have to remember he gave the same punishment to Lithor, so he treats him like a baby too," Wulfric added.

"Well that's no surprise, they greybeard has proven himself to be senile. Have we given as bad an impression?" Wilheard asked.

"This is insufferable!" Wulfric replied, tearing his hair. "He must be out of his mind, there is no other logical explanation, is there? If he didn't seem so insane, I would go to him and demand to be punished like a man for whatever crimes he wishes to charge me of. I can't stand being treated like wayward child when I'm a grown-up man, fully aware of the consequences of my actions. I can understand not being so harsh on a man so old he is starting to sink back towards his childhood, but to a young man in his prime, never!"

For a while, there was silence. Wilheard was starting to feel angrier and angrier, and Wulfric was clearly thinking of something.

"Do you know what this means, Wilheard?" Wulfric asked in a shaky voice after a while.

Wilheard shook his head.

"If our esteemed father is truly somehow out of his mind, we must be extra vigilant. No one else should know about this. We should see to that everything seems as normal as possible. We shall act as if this kind of dishonourable treatment towards one's sons is normal. If we don't raise a question about it, maybe it will go unnoticed.

And we need to take the responsibility as his sons. If he flips totally, we need to get help for him. A healer or a... witch, as you would call them, I suppose. But we are the grown-up men of this family now. We need to take control, and take care."

Wulfric paused. It was sort of contradictory. He seemed as appalled at the idea of their father having some strange illness on his mind as Wilheard was, yet there was a spark in his eyes, something very familiar to Wilheard - it was the spark of determination and enthusiasm in face of a difficult challenge, Wulfric's spark of life.

Wilheard could feel the same. He had never been into politics or responsibilities, his dream had been being his brother Eorl Wulfric's right hand man and a war hero, tamer of the greatest of mearas and the swiftest of hawks, but this desolate place and the queer challenges it brought were something he recognised as an adventure. He spoke at length:

"And if his madness is of the terminal kind, it might be you inherit this place after all, at least for a while."

"Do not speak of that," said Wulfric, but the spark flashed in his eyes. "We shall go back now, and act according to the plan."

"But one more thing before we go," said Wilheard. He lowered his voice. "I think this place is cursed."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

That was a start of the day! After the somewhat sleepy hour of trials, this has been something of a fresh awakening. Soldiers, barely a few dozens of them, riding through the plain, steam rising from their horses' backs. The men and animals getting to know each other, learning. Hilderinc paid close attention to those around him. Fighting alongside troops alien to you, you had to learn fast. If this had happened in the war, good coordination might have been difference between life and death. Even though these were peaceful times, Hilderinc still acted as if the enemy could cross Scar in every moment. Well, after all, they always could. And anyway, for Hilderinc, there have never been times when he would think that there was not a possibility of a new war. No peace was for certain and the world could always change.

The soldiers of Scarburg did not seem very well trained to him, but then, he had not expected much. Sufficient for a border-guard, much worse perhaps for an armed conflict. There were good soldiers among them, ones who seemed that they could become excellent if they got some proper training. Some of them were even worse than a few of the untalented - as Hilderinc knew them well - but properly trained warriors of Athanar's household. Well, perhaps now, with Coenred as their leader, there was an opportunity for them to improve their skills.

Coenred's next order was to dismount and fight on foot. Hilderinc smiled at noticing some of the younger soldiers' expressions. He knew what they were thinking: he could almost read their thoughts, they were all the same. "We are Eorlingas, why do we have to fight on foot? We have our horses." Have your mount slain in the middle of battlefield, Hilderinc thought to himself, and then we may talk about what is important. Also, these youngsters apparently have not been listening properly to the stories of the old about the Battle of Hornburg. It had been lucky for its defenders that even of the boys fighting there many had enough reason to have at least basic practice in hand-to-hand combat. What would all the wonderful riders do, driven into the stone fortress like rats, with no mount by their side? Oh, what a minor difference, and perhaps Helm's Deep would have had fallen on that terrible night, and there will be no dawn to come! But no, that did not happen, because there were men who knew how to fight on foot. And their current King and the King of Mundburg have shown their best there, too, didn't these youngsters ever hear?

Hilderinc has actually always been giving more importance to fight on foot than many of his companions. And as he dismounted, he decided that whomever he was to face now, he would give him the toughest lecturing.

[Nerindel]

Iomhair

Many times since Lord Edowine fell ill did Iomhair consider packing up and moving on? With no Eorl the stories soon grew stale and Iomhair became restless, even more so as she came to realise that more was being spent on the building of the hall than was being brought back in to it. She had no intention of working for free, even if she was only recording those building works. It was curiosity that finally kept her in place, with no news of Lord Edowine’s recovery she knew it wouldn’t be long before the King of Rohan was forced to appoint another in his stead and appoint another he did! Not only was the man of a recognised noble line but he was completely different in character to that of his predecessor.

Iomhair’s interest was again piqued and the new Lord did not disappoint in her expectations, Asserting and exacting his authority from that first day. Her jaw had almost hit the floor as one of the halls soldiers answered back to a Lord of the Mark, but even this shock could not break the excited exhilaration she felt at the thought of witnessing unfolding events.

Already this morning she had scrolled the trials of both Lithor, the soldier from the night before and Javan, a young lad who had seemingly assaulted the new Lords youngest daughter. She had been careful to scribe word for word all that was said with no embellishments of her own, as her appointment by the previous Lord did not assure her appointment by this new lord. It had not been that difficult as the trials had held intently the attention of all those present, especially when Lord Athanar’s sons accused Thorden of playing part in listening to a plot of treason, then again as Lord Athanar announced his intentions of adopting the Lady Saeryn. This had made her look up and study the man intently, it was something definitely not expected and it had brought new thoughts to Iomhair’s mind. Looking at Athanar’s Eldest son, she had wondered how he had taken the news, if it upset him though he had been smart enough not to show it in public.

The trials were soon over and the hall dismissed, still not sure to whom she should defer she followed the crowds out, returning briefly to her room to lay the scrolls out and let the ink dry. Recalling that the Soldiers were going to drill she grabbed some charcoal and some fresh parchment then set out to capture spirit of those set with the task of protecting this meadhall.

She soon found a spot far enough that she would not be in the way but close enough that she could still make out the beads of sweat on each mans brow. Her hands moved quickly across the page as the men where put through their paces by the new commander.

[Nogrod]

"That was soo groce!" Cnebba exclaimed and pulled a face.

But there was no immediate reaction from Garmund - and Leodthern stood quiet looking at the two boys.

They were outside the Hall after the hearings. Garmund had been looking downwards but now finally raised his head.

"I'm not sure Cnabba..." He eyed at her sister as well. "I'd like to learn to make a chainmail myself... Think how cool it would be!"

Cnebba was fully astounded. He had only thought of the limping figure of that cripple called Raban and Javan needing to spent hours in closed quarters with him, but now he recognised the coolness of what Garmund said... and he blushed (a thing he hated when it happened in front of Leodthern).

"But..." he started.

"I know what you mean Cneb, but he's a war hero, as lord Athanar said. And he's a master-craftsman! My dad always says you should learn from those who know their business and I'd bet a lot that this odd Raban knows things... even if he's a weirdo" With the last remark Garmund offered Cnebba a soothing smile and Cnebba took it laughing in releavment.

The doors opened and Javan got out. He would have looked a bit disoriented to any adult eye, as not quite knowing where to go, but the three kids surrounded him immediately.

"How was it?", "Was it cool?", "Were you afraid?", "What do you think of Raban?", "What do you think of lord Athanar?", "What is that Raban like?", "Will you make a chainmail?", "Is it cool?".

[Folwren]

Javan blinked and put his arms out to ward off the two boys and their flood of questions. “I don’t know – I haven’t – what are you – stop!” he shouted. The three questioners ceased their questioning. Javan drew a deep, deliberate breath. “I don’t know anything about Raban, I haven’t met him, except in there, and from what I saw…” he stopped and didn’t continue. “Yes, I like lord Athanar. (Better than Thornden, at present,)” he muttered under his breath, and then went on. “I will make chainmail, and no it isn’t cool!”

“Why not?” Garmund asked. His eyes studied Javan keenly, and Javan could see he didn’t approve of the contempt with which Javan seemed to consider his task.

“Because I don’t want to. I’d rather stay with you all and continue our practice with the horses and the archery. But I guess I don’t have much choice in the matter, do I?” He sighed. “I’m supposed to find Raban now and start my business.” He dug his hands into his pockets and started forward. The three children silently made way for him. He paused on the lowest step of the porch and turned again. “Do you all know where Aedre is?”

[Nogrod]

“Do you all know where Aedre is?”

"They live in Eodwine's and Saeryn's room!" Leodthern yelled as if to be the smart one. But there weren't any cheers for that remark from the boys. Instead, Garmund stroke his little sister's hair lightly. "Yeah Leo, we know."

Finally Cnebba broke the silence. "Maybe we should ask someone, like Kara or Frodides, or mom?"

"Or some of them strangers if we find them. I'd not dare to go on knocking at their door just like that." Garmund added.

"We? You guys said, we?" Javan looked at the others clearly annoyed. "Now who says you're coming with me?"

"Well, you said you'd rather stay with us..." Cnebba began but shut his mouth with Javan's sharp glance.

"Be fair Javan. We could help you out with it." Garmund tried.

"We wouldn't laugh or anything..." Cnebba added just to receive a hard hit from Garmund's elbow to his side.

"I'd like to see Aedre." said Leodthern.

[Nerindel]

Matrim, Æðelhild and Athanar

Matrim could feel Æðelhild's hand tense on his arm as they entered the hall, stealing a quick glance he was glad to see that the same tension did not show on her face. Lord Athanar did not at present sit in the main hall and Martrim was suddenly aware that he did not know who it was in this hall that relied to him messages of guests in his halls. As his gaze searched the hall for someone to take a message of their arrival to Lord Athanar, someone came forwards from behind the corner and faced them straight from just a few yards away.

It was lord Athanar himself.

He looked baffled for a moment but suddenly his face turned into a smile and he raised his hands to stress his own fault not recognizing them immediately.

"So you must be lady Aedelhild and master Matrim!" He looked at them both inquisitively but retained his smile. "I had totally forgotten about you with all this..." he looked apologetic and he clearly meant it.”... With all this mess... Anyway, please sit down, let's talk." He waved towards the main table.

Æðelhild's tension lifted slightly as they followed Athanar to the table, she had expected a more cooled reception and that it was not so set her somewhat more at ease. A small smile of surprise touched her lips as Matrim held out her chair, it had been so long that she had almost forgotten such small protocols. Though she had only been in Rohan some short months, she had been gone from Gondor over a year and from court longer still, her uncle had seen to that. As quickly as her smile had appeared it was now gone, her face again a blank canvas with only her rich brown eyes betraying the pain she felt at her uncle’s memory. Sitting she looked across the table to see Athanar studying her curiously.

"May we assume lord Athanar that you have been made aware of our situation?" Matrim asked breaking the man’s attention from Lady Æðelhild.

Lord Athanar turned his attention to Matrim and nodded. "Yes you may... although there are a lot of things I'd wish to know more of." He leaned back a little in his chair looking thoughtful.

"I was told about your presence here my lady, and that lord Matrim and a Gondorian officer would be here to protect you. Also I heard that even if the danger on your life isn't necessarily an acute one, there is a chance someone might be after you even this far away from Gondor." Lord Athanar had been looking at Aedelhild while speaking but now he turned to Matrim.

"King Eomer told me to honour any pact you'd have with lord Eodwine and that's how it shall be. But first I should know what kind of arrangements there are. Had lord Eodwine appointed some men of his guard as an extra-security or something? And how about your status? Is it generally known inside the Mead Hall or are you having a cover-story of some kind?"

Æðelhild kept Athanar's gaze as best she could, but hearing again that her life may be in danger and knowing what her uncle was capable of made her shiver. She was glad that he then chose that moment to turn his attention to Matrim.

Matrim paused briefly, thinking how best to proceed. "As you will have noticed on your arrival the guards of Scarburg are far and few between, So it wasn't difficult for myself and captain Balvir to blend as swords for hire recruited by Lord Eodwine to protect this hall." he paused a moment to glean Athanar's reaction, then continued.

"As completion of the hall was Lord Eodwine's priority and many of his men were needed to help with its construction. I and Balvir with Eodwine's knowledge had and still have been using the morning hunt as an excuse to gain the lay of the land and to watch the road/s in and out of the Scar. Edowine saw that Æðel as the lady is thus known here was included in tasks that would keep her in company at all times (He decided to keep to himself the numerous times she had escaped such company to tend the garden or prepare her tinctures alone.) and Master Thornden has always had his men keep an acceptable night watch. Though I have never been sure if he knew of our circumstance or not. As Steward to Lord Edowine I would assume that he did, but if he did he played his information very close to his chest." As he answered Matrim thought again about if their cover was still necessary.

By now all of Gondor would know of the king’s decree and that they where somewhere in Rohan. How much more time really would it buy them to keep up the pretence? He glanced at Æðelhild; he knew that despite her earlier assurances that she was ready, she really wasn't. He also knew that even if she was not she would at least have to appear to be, she had to show Cild that she was not afraid. His mind made up he turned back to Athanar. "Lord Athanar the time for hiding and laying low has now passed by now all of Gondor knows the Lady Æðelhild is in Rohan, She is not guilty of the crimes accounted her and therefore must no longer be shamed into hiding. Her accuser must see that she is not afraid of his Lies!"

Lord Athanar was nodding as he listened to Matrim and he had been just about to open his mouth when Matrim addressed him with the issue of them not laying in hiding any more. He was a bit surprised of the energetic way this young nobleman made his case after being such a composed converser just before. He looked at Matrim to the eye, like he was measuring the young man.

"Well, lord Matrim. I admire your straightness. And if that truly is your wish..." here he glanced at lady Aedelhild, "then you truly shall sit on my table with the other nobles already on the dinner today. And we shall declare your positions then so that everyone understands." He looked at Matrim and picked the spoon from the table reaching his hand so that the incoming sunlight reflected brightly from the backside of the spoon to the wall behind them.

"With that revelation you're calling any possible servants of that lord Cild straight here as that kind of things rarely stay hidden once revealed. There are people who come and go and one ear getting the story will turn into a mouth for another ear to listen..."

Suddenly he rolled the spoon around so that the hollow part of the spoon faced the sunlight greatly diminishing the reflected beam that was now in between them on the table.

"Maybe that's what we'd wish to do then?" He glanced at the two quizzically. "If we catch assassins will it help your plight?"

The fear Æðelhild had been suppressing rose as she watched the spoon and listened to Athanar's words. She looked at Matrim hoping he would change his decision, but instead he was nodding his gaze fixed firmly on the now up turned spoon. Æðelhild was shaking, did he really mean to use her as bait. Sense told her that catching an assassin would indeed help her plight but at that moment fear was winning out and she struggled to fight back the tears that now glistened in the corner of her eyes.

The slightest hint of a grin touched Matrim's lips, he liked how Athanar thought, and catching an assassin would surely prove that Cild had something to hide especially if they could get that assassin to talk. He looked up but was surprised to see concern etching Athanar's brow, realising at once that his concern was directed at Æðelhild. Matrim turned and almost at once he began to doubt his decision, her eyes glistened and she was shaking, had he gone too far? Was he asking too much too soon? It has to be done he told himself, he would have to be her strength at least till she could find it in herself.

Placing his hands gently on her shoulders and ignoring the involuntary flinch that always came (Another scar of her uncle’s ill treatment) he bent giving her no choice but to look at him. "I am sorry Æðelhild, but you know better than I what your uncle is capable of." His voice was calm but sympathetic, "if he means to find you he will, weather we remain hidden or not, at least this way we can tempt him into tying his own noose." Æðelhild looked away and for a moment Matrim feared she would choose to remain hidden, but then she spoke “What if he doesn't?" she asked in a cracked whisper. "Then we hope and we pray that my father has time enough to find that which he searches for." seeing that his words did not comfort her he raised her chin so their eyes met, "I swear I am not going to let anything happen to you! You are not alone in this."

Matrim's words comforted her and fighting back the tears she nodded. "Ok" she whispered, then again to be heard with out straining, "ok I will do it, that is if Lord Athanar agrees, it is to his home Matrim that we bring these troubles?" letting go of her shoulders he nodded his agreement, then taking his seat they both turned to await Lord Athanar's reply.