Scarburg Meadhall

[Thinlómien]

"So, once more," Wulfric said when they approached the Meadhall grounds. "Let's keep in touch with the men, participating in drills or guards wouldn't be a bad idea. That way they will learn to know us and we'll learn to know them. And we'd better start doing with this before father 'comes up' with something 'useful' for us to do. We need to take the initiative."

Wilheard nodded. Good, everything was clear now. "Any questions?" Wulfric ventured to check.

"Aedre," Wilheard said.
"What about her?"
"We need to protect her, right? If we can't be sure father can manage it?"
"There's mother," Wulfric shrugged.
"She's a woman, Wulf. She can't protect her from everything."
"Try telling that to her," Wulfric said darkly. "But I guess you're right. We should make sure the kid is alright."

"So shall we do that next?" Wilheard asked.
"If you wish," said Wulfric. He wasn't too concerned about his little sister, but Wilheard seemed to be. Wilheard had always been closer to their sister than he was, but it was small wonder given that Wilheard and Aedre had only a five years' difference in age compared to Wulfric and Aedre's nine years.

The brothers dismounted and led their horses onwards. "What's that?" Wilheard asked sharply and touched his brother's shoulder.
"What?" Wulfric asked, looking around.
"There. Scyrr. He's not alright." Wulfric's heart skipped a beat. One of his soldiers, hurt? That was intolerable. What was happening?

"Take the horses," Wulfric said and gave Northwind's reins to Wilheard. Without looking back, he strode to the soldier as fast as he could without losing his dignity.

"Scyrr!" he called from a few steps away. The soldier turned his eyes to him. Everything was not as it should be.

Wulfric assesed the situation quickly. The soldier looked slightly pale - except around his neck, where the skin was red - and there was an absent look at his eyes, and on top of that his leg was weirdly crooked. Broken or sprained or just hurt, it was impossible to say.

"What happened?" Wulfric demanded.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Scyrr tried to straighten himself, but suddenly his head started spinning around. With all effort however, he managed to keep himself in almost-sitting position.

"Master Wulfric..." he started, but to make matters worse, the feeling of sickness in his stomach suddenly seized him with unprecedented strength. Not now of all moments.

"It was the stinking tanner Erbrand," Scyrr took a deep breath. "He tried to kill me. I am sorry..." There was no time to get more into details, Scyrr turned himself around and leant over the cart's side, trying to avoid Wulfric's sight. Inside, he felt angry, what will his weakness look like in front of the young masters? And most of all, when will this end? He felt his head spinning around all the time and when he straightened himself, he did not feel any better than before.

[Thinlómien]

Wilheard

Take the horses. Sure, sir.

Wilheard lead the two horses to the stables with care, but anger was sparkling in his countenance. The horses could sense it, and were nervous. This time Wilheard didn't pause even for a second to calm them. He was annoyed.

Yes, Wulfric was the boss. He was bigger, and smarter. And older and more experienced. He was happy enough to be his brother's right hand - too much responsibility didn't suit him well anyway - but he would definitely not be a squire or a page to be ordered around. Wulf would need to learn that, better sooner or later.

"Good morning, sir!" greeted a cheerful voice.
"Morning, Baldwic," Wilheard replied. Baldwic was a few years his senior and they had been training together a few times recently. Wilheard liked him well enough even though he thought the guy was still a bit of a baby.

It was quiet in the stables and most of the soldiers gathered there were now looking at Wilheard. He knew Wulfric would've said something to the assembled soldiers, but he just stuck the reins of the two horses to Baldwic's hand.

"Bald - take care of these for me, or find a stableboy to do it in your stead."
"Sure, sir," the soldier replied but his young master had already turned and was striding out of the stable door.

He spotted Wulfric and Scyrr quickly - they hadn't moved - and ran to them.


Wulfric

"It was the stinking tanner Erbrand... He tried to kill me. I am sorry..."

Wulfric clenched his fists. He had known the locals were up to no good, but he hadn't expected anything like this yet. He rebuked himself; he needed learn out of such naivety if he strived to be a good leader or soldier some day.

Scyrr looked bad, worse than he had first thought. Wulfric's eyes scanned the yard and spotted a woman with a bucket of water.

"Hey! You there! If you have a healer in this place, find him and bring him here now!"

The woman laid her bucket on the ground and hurried off.

Scyrr tried to talk. "They... they already..."
"Don't speak," Wulfric cut off the soldier's talk. "You need to make a distiguishable report to your Eorl, so save your words."

Wulfric didn't exactly enjoy saying those words, but there was enough soldier in him to put practical matters before pride in such minor things and to respect a commander even if there were doubts on his sanity.

Where was Will when he was needed? He needed someone to stay with Scyrr and take care of the matters for a second.

"I'm here," said a voice behind his back and Wulfric turned quickly just to see his brother standing next to him.
"Need to practice your hearing, soldier, you should've hear me running here had you been concentrating at all," Wilheard remarked.
"Now's no time for idle banter," Wulfric retorted. "I'll go find Father, you stay here with Scyrr. A healer's coming for him - that is if the locals can be trusted."

Without further ceremonies, Wulfric hurried away to find his father. It wasn't very difficult - Athanar walked out of the door of the great hall just when Wulfric was at the doorstep and they literally bumped into each other.

"Sir," Wulfric said quickly. "Scyrr is wounded. He says he was attacked by the local tanner, named Erbrand. Will is now with him - they're in the far end of the yard there, by the trees. I have sent for a healer."

[Folwren]

Saeryn had left Athanar in the great hall soon after the rest of the people had left. She had stood by while Javan made his apology and then she and Athanar had finished their discussion and she retired for a brief time to her room. She could not rest long, for much pressed on her mind. So she rose and went out, leaving soon after Æðelhild and Matrim had finished speaking with Athanar, but she knew not of their meeting with him.

As she came out into the courtyard, she spotted Erbrand coming out from the kitchen. At first, she paid little mind to him, it was normal enough to see him there during the day, but something caused her to take a second glance, and this time she noted the drawn expression about his mouth, and his lowered eyebrows. He did not appear as he normally did. He hastened towards the stables, but she called him back. He stopped and turned and then came towards her several steps.

“My lady,” he said. “I am taking my leave.”

“So suddenly, Erbrand?” she asked. “Why?”

“Something has come up. I cannot explain, but you will find out soon enough.”

“I hope you do not feel that because Eodwine has left and Athanar is taking his place that you are no longer wanted here.”

“No, lady,” he said, a wistful look passing over his face. But he did not explain himself. “I must go. I bid you farewell, and I hope that justice is done here, and you are treated as you should be, and nothing that is yours is taken from you.”

Saeryn shook her head, confused, but he turned and hurried away. She stood, staring after him, wondering what brought this on and what she should do about it. The morning had already been confusing enough, what with Athanar’s offer to her of adoption and her child, if it were male, taking the place of heir of Scarburg. She did not feel she needed this extra burden laid on her. But Erbrand was one of Eodwine’s men. What was happening here? Would the place disintegrate, despite Athanar’s careful attempts to keep the people together?

She was still wondering this when she saw not only Erbrand exit on horseback, but coming behind him on his own horse, Lithor rode also. She stood stock still in the courtyard, incapable of calling after them. She did not believe it. She could not believe it. This action was entirely against both their characters, but there they were, both leaving.

It was not so much for Erbrand to go. He had the right to stay or leave as he pleased, but Lithor was part of the eorl’s guard. He was bound, by his word and by the expectations laid upon a man-at-arms, to not abandon his lord and his companions. But it was clear enough that he had every intention of going and not returning.

Saeryn watched them until they were out of sight and then she turned and hurried to the kitchen. If Erbrand had told anyone what had happened to make him leave in such a manner, it would have been Kara.

She found her seated on the hearth, with her hands clasped between her knees, doing nothing. Her eyes were red, and her face pale, but she was not crying.

“Kara,” Saeryn said, coming inside. “What has happened? Why has Erbrand left?”

Kara did not look towards her. “He has. . .he killed. . .” she shot a wavering glance towards Saeryn and her eyes swam with tears. “It cannot be hidden, you will find out soon enough!” She covered her face with her hands and rocked back and forth, silently weeping.

Saeryn stood as though struck by lightning on the doorstep. She wondered if this numb feeling that she felt was because so much had already happened that day, or because for some reason she did not really care. She felt she did not fully understand. Of course, Kara had not spoken plainly, so how could she understand? What had he killed? Rather, who had he killed? For it must be a man for him to run, and for Kara to be incapable of telling her.

But her questions were answered in a brief moment. While she still stood in uncertainty just inside the kitchen, Fordides and Ginna both suddenly entered behind her. She turned slowly, as though in a dream, and saw them both, observing instantly Fordides flushed face and Ginna’s pale one.

“Oh, lady Saeyrn!” Ginna said, reaching forward and grasping her hand. “Thank goodness you are here. I don’t know what to do. We brought him back as best we could, but he’s badly hurt.”

“Who is?” Saeryn asked.

“It’s that Scyrr fellow,” Fordides answered. She seemed a little tamer than usual, and her eyes were abnormally wide. “Erbrand ‘most killed him, he did, and it was all Ginna and I could do to get him off ‘im.”

Although she knew that Scyrr was one of Athanar’s men and this would mean further trouble with Athanar, she no longer had anything with which to react. Her face did not change, nor did her feelings. She felt cold and unmoved. “Where is Scyrr now?” Saeryn asked.

“Outside. We set him in the wagon. We don’t know what to do. What will happen to Erbrand? Should we tell lord Athanar what we saw?”

Saeryn stepped past them and looked out. Only when she saw Scyrr, looking sick and badly hurt, and Athanar’s oldest son standing by and talking to him did the full realization of the situation come to her. She felt scared again. Almost as badly scared as she had been the previous night when she thought Athanar was going to be a tyrannical ruler who ran Scarburg like a military outpost. Lithor had been punished mercifully, but he had run from it. Then Erbrand, despite seeing how Athanar behaved similarly to Eodwine, and hearing that the two people must become one, had almost killed one of Athanar’s men and then fled. What would Athanar feel necessary to do? How would he react?

“Fordides,” Saeryn whispered. “Fordides, I feel I am going to faint.”

[Folwren]

“I wish we could find out what’s happening,” Cnebba said ruefully. Javan and Garmund followed his gaze into the courtyard. A sudden thought occurred to Javan.

“Your mum said the soldiers were in the woods - but look! They’re not, yet. They’re still getting ready. They won’t be out for a few more minutes. If we hurry, we can get to the top of the lane and hide before they come through, then we can see what is going on!”

The two boys looked at him doubtfully. He stared at them, changing his eyes from one to the other, before throwing up his hands and saying, “Well, it’s better than staying around here and rotting, isn’t it?”

Cnebba looked at Garmund, but Garmund suddenly agreed with Javan and wheeled about, heading off at a run. “Come on!” he shouted over his shoulder. “We won’t have much time!”

“But, boys!” Leodern called, straggling along behind. “But, Modtryth said to stay in sight of the house and - and - and you shouldn’t be doing this! You’ll get in trouble!”

“Shut up, ninny,” Javan threw over his shoulder, “and don’t give us away, whatever you do! Stay here, if you want to!”

Leodern slowed to a walk and watched as the boys disappeared around the corner of Harreld’s smithy. A sad, dejected frown etched itself into her face and then she dropped to the ground, herl legs folded tailor fashion, and her chin sank into her hands.

The boys ran on, unmindful of Leodern. They sped up the hill towards the main road and then darted off into the woods on the left of the road. Behind them, they could hear the stamp of horses and the jingle of the bits and harnesses. Then a shout was given and trotting hooves came up the path.

“Quick!” Javan gasped. A strange sort of fear wrapped about his chest, as though he were being the one hunted. Something told him they must not be seen. “Up into the tree, just as quick as you can!”

[Firefoot]

Had Thornden listened to anything he had just said? It did not seem to Léof that he had. Well, perhaps these concerns had already been thought of, and Athanor thought it more important to secure the area than to actually find the fugitives? Truth to tell, he still had a hard time thinking of either Erbrand or Lithor as particularly dangerous, but that was not for him to decide.

Then Thornden asked, “Do you want to go out with us?”

That was unexpected, and Léof had no idea what use he might be on such a venture, but it suddenly seemed very attractive to get out of the stables for a while – even if it was just on a fool’s errand to the marshes. “Actually, yes, I would,” he said. “What would you have me do?”

[Folwren]

The questions were obvious in Leof's face as he looked keenly at Thornden. But, thankfully, Thornden's invitation seemed to drive those questions from his mind.

"Yes, actually, I would. What would you have me do?"

"Saddle your horse. And then wait for us here while we search the place. We'll be back for our horses before going out towards the marshes. We'll split into two groups once we reach them and there I'll give further instructions." He turned as he finished and then stopped and turned again. Leof was already walking off to get his horse. "If you like, you can make certain no one is hiding in the stables and all," he said. It sounded ridiculous, and he knew Leof knew it. Of course they weren't skulking in the stables. Leof knew as well as he did that they weren't anywhere near Scarburg.

Without waiting to see it on Leof's face or hear him ask a single question, he turned and strode away.

"You two," he said indicating two men, "check the kitchen and the smithy. You four, check the great hall and all the sleeping quarters." He continued to partition his men and send them off until they all had someplace to search.

[Durelin]

The riders started out heading south east, cutting across the flatlands to the road toward Tancred and Faramund. They searched for any signs of the riders and stopped briefly every few miles if they came upon a farm house or traveler to inquire about one or two fast riders, a tanner and possibly a soldier... There search was turning up nothing, and Coen grumbled and cursed to himself that they had not gone this way. But he would never dare to criticize his lord, even speaking to himself. No, it was not a matter of having more riders covering different areas...it was simply that he had not acted quickly enough; or rather, he had not kept track of his men well enough. And he had not kept his eye on those two troubled men. What had he told himself? That Lithor was dangerous, and it was to be watched what company he kept.

The party was small, but Coen still sent out two men as if they were scouts serving a larger train. One road ahead periodically and reported back, the other might cut to the east or west a ways beside the road and loop around back to the road. Both men were good trackers, and the latter was one of the locals who knew the land well. Neither was to stop and ask questions of anyone unless there was some other sign that indicated the men had been that way. The main party then was slower going, as it periodically stopped to inquire about Erbrand and Lithor.

The front rider came back at a gallop, having just reported only a couple minutes before. Coen brought the party to a halt in confusion as the man approached. "I just watched two men or something disappear into the woods from the side of the road," the man reported ineloquently.

"Then why did you come back here rather than pursue them?" Coen asked angrily, letting his frustration get the best of him.

"Er...the brush is too thick for riding sir. I...thought it best to... If it is them...I mean...two against one..."

Coen sighed. "Forgive me, you are right. But we've already wasted enough time."

With a shout the riders took off at a gallop until the scout signaled that they were getting close. They then slowed to a trot, Coen at the head of the party with the scout, who slowed to a stop and nodded toward the woods to the east of the road.

Coen dismounted and took his sword from his gear to put on his belt and the rest followed suit. He indicated a man to stay behind with the horses, and then prepared to make his way through the brush carefully and as quietly as he could, searching for signs on the way. But he already saw clearly that someone, or likely more than one person, had clumsily plunged into the forest from the road. Coen fingered his sword's pommel.

"Sir," he heard a voice behind him a little louder than a whisper. Coen did not turn around. What was this fool doing? He was talking loud enough for anyone within a hundred meters to hear him! "Sir, above us."

The Captain stopped dead and looked up into the branches of the tree before him. The first thing he saw was a set of shoed feet, and then the body of a boy...and then another...and another. Three boys perched in the branches like birds. Coen's hands dropped to his side and he sighed.

"You two get down from that tree before we shake you down," he shouted, grimacing as he suddenly realized that he had a headache since the morning's drills.

[Folwren]

Léof’s simple extension of friendship put Quin more at ease than he had been ever since he arrived. He drew a breath and cast a sidelong glance at Léof, studying him for the first time. He looked like a nice fellow, and now he was looking at him, not with a hard intimidating look, but kindly and openly.

“I’ve been with Lord Athanar for eight years,” Quin answered. “At the beginning of my eleventh summer I was sent to him as a paige, and I have stayed with him ever since. I became a man-at-arms only just last year. It’s something of a step for me.” He ventured a smile.

“Will you answer me something? I’ll let you ask anything in return, and I hope you do not think ill of me for asking this.” Léof nodded, indicating he continue. “What sort of man…I mean…is Erbrand safe? Thornden there requires that we not kill anyone, but what if Erbrand attacks us? I ask you because I figure you know something of him.”

[Firefoot]

“I do not think you need fear Erbrand. If I thought this would come to a fight, I probably would not have come for I would be near useless in a real attack,” replied Léof. “Erbrand may be argumentative at times, and act without thinking, but beneath that he really is a decent sort. He cared well for his horse, and even made me this saddle that I’m using as a gift, though he said it was thanks for my care of his horse.

“I might ask you a similar question,” he continued. “What sort of man is your lord? What sort of punishment do you think he would judge fit for Erbrand, were he to be found and brought back?” Léof abruptly recalled Nydfara’s odd and annoying questions back in the stables. “And how might he deal with anyone who helped him?”

[Folwren]

Javan frowned at Fearghall, then down at the ground and kicked at the dirt. The soldier didn’t look back at them as he turned his horse back towards home. Finally, with a defeated shrug of his shoulders, Javan waved his hand to the other boys and headed back. “If we don’t go back, he’ll tell somebody, and then we’ll really be in trouble,” he said in explanation.

They agreed and the three trudged back to the Hall behind Fearghall’s horse. They found the courtyard quiet and empty. The wounded man had been moved, the search parties had all left, and the rest were inside.

Fearghall turned his horse about in the courtyard to face the three boys. “I’m glad to see you three decided to follow me back. Give me your word that you will stay here after I leave to go rejoin the captain, and I will not inform anyone about where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.”

Javan and the other two exchanged glances and then Javan nodded. “You have our word. We will stay.”

Fearghall nodded then, and without another word, rode back out. The boys turned to watch him go, and then Javan tapped Garmund on the shoulder. “Come on. I don’t see anyone about, we might be able to get back to where we’re supposed to be without being noticed. Quick!” He started off at a run, and Garmund, after grabbing Cnebba came after him.

[Folwren]

"Maybe the scout who was sent out earlier has brought some news to lord Athanar while we were away," Hilderinc said. "Maybe the captain's party was actually going for a definite trail, unlike us."

Thornden sent Hilderinc a covert glance and the worried frown that had been etched in his face all day deepened a little more. He did not respond to the comment as Hilderinc had not directed it to him, but his thoughts dwelt on it and the possibilities that lay within it for the rest of the ride home.

What had Hilderinc seen and noticed? How long would it be until Hilderinc learned that no scout had been sent out? When would Hilderinc guess the truth of the matter? And would he go to Athanar and tell him of his suspicion of Thornden's dishonesty, as any true and loyal soldier should? The outlook had been grim from the beginning, and the more Thornden thought about it, the grimmer it became.

They came into the courtyard more than an hour after dark. Once dusk had fallen, they had been obliged to pick their way carefully through the marsh. They were hungry, tired, and half frozen by the time they got back and they all unsaddle their horses with stiff and numb fingers. As they were finishing, Coenred with his men came riding back in. A searching glance through their numbers showed Thornden that they had been as fruitless in their search as he and his men had been. It gave him a little comfort to know that Lithor and Erbrand were safely away, but it did not ease the tight feeling in his stomach.

The men flowed into the warm, fire-lit hall in a steady stream, clumping in groups inside near the fire and scattered about to talk about what had happened throughout the day and during their searches. When lord Athanar and the two ladies entered the hall, the room became silent and they turned their eyes towards him, hoping finally to hear something that would satisfy all their curiosity and answer at least some of their questions.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld rubbed his eyes again as he walked from his smithy to the mead hall. Before he fell asleep he wanted to talk to Thornden. Not that telling him tonight instead of tomorrow would change a thing, but he wanted it done.

He stretched his arms and neck, trying to loosen them after hours of whet stone work. He squinted ahead of him: the moon hung just above the horizon in the west. It was late, but he was determined to wake Thornden if he had to. It turned out to his surprise that this was unnecessary, for Thornden was just coming out of the Mead Hall.

"Thornden! Hail!"

"Harreld! You are still awak?"

"Aye, there is a matter I cannot banish from my thoughts. Will you be gong to Edoras?"

"Not I, but I will be sending- Ugh! You stink, Harreld! Did you sleep in your scrap iron?"

Harreld chuckled. "Close enough. I will bathe in the morning. I would beg a boon of you, though."

"Speak it."

"Have your messenger stop in at my brother Garreth and tell him to come to Scarburg. There is more than enough work for two smiths now with the extra soldiers."

Thornden's brow rose. "I suppose a few moments can be set aside for that-" he murmured doubtfully.

"Or do you think our new eorl would say me nay?"

"I ... cannot say. Would you like me to ask him?"

Harreld sighed. He had been hoping for quick reassurance from Thornden. The man's doubt did nothing to assuage his dislike of the new eorl. "Aye, I would be in your debt if you would. The work is more than one man can handle now."

"I will take care of it," Thornden replied. "Get some sleep! I'll tell you in the morning."

"Aye. Good night," Harreld replied unhappily. Now that the thing was done he was very weary and it was not long before he was sound asleep, dreaming of sharpened sword edges and prison bars.

[Mnemosyne]

"I must be getting old," said Wynflaed, as Lilige carefully hung her dress away. "I do not recall my back aching this much since I bore Aedre."

"You do not look it," said Athanar. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, but his eyes were alight with thought.

"You flatter me, husband. Lilige, that is all I will need you for tonight; I know you must be weary from the day's events as well. I will call you should I require anything."

Lilige curtsied and left the room.

Wynflaed sighed. She had not seen Athanar very much that day, and while that could be typical in a day's work at court, so much of the day had dragged on...

After Saeryn had told Athanar of Lithor's desertion, the two of them had gone back to the kitchens and begun to muster the effort for when the searchers would return--plenty of hot broth, with barley thrown in for good measure. Then there was the general bustle of trying to keep everyone calm, getting the stables ready for the return of the riders, and even trying to find a stout store-room in case the runagates were found and needed to be locked up.

"Is aught wrong?"

"Hm?" Wynflaed turned to look at Athanar, and then sat next to him on the bed. "No, I was merely woolgathering. I had wished to acquaint myself with the household, but I did not think I should have to do so this soon--or this suddenly."

"Mishaps are what bring out the genius in a general." He brought his hand to the back of her neck and began to rub it.

"Aye," said Wynflaed. "And you did most marvellously today, especially at the feast. I only wish I could have done more."

"You kept things running--"

"--I and the Lady Saeryn--"

"--and that is what matters."

"Well," Wynflaed said, rising, "I do not expect tomorrow to be much easier than today. I can see your mind is still working, but I am weary. Let us discuss what is to be done in the morning--and do not stay up too late with your plans!"

But Wynflaed could not tell if Athanar had heeded her advice or not, for she slept not too long after she laid her head on the pillow.

[Firefoot]

As Léof was preparing Æthel for riding, a voice spoke up behind him. “You don’t expect to find the fugitives here, do you.”

“What?” Léof spun around to find Nydfara standing there. Léof knew that Nydfara had no horse, and so likely had no business in the stable. He also did not think that the question the other man had asked was any of his business. “I mean, what makes you think that?”

“It was plain enough to see that you looked puzzled after Thornden called after you to inspect the stables. And since coming in here, you have not looked for them.”

Léof scowled at him. “So you’re both eavesdropping and spying on me.”

“Say rather that I keep my eyes and ears open. Nor have you yet answered my question,” said Nydfara.

“And why should I?” asked Léof stubbornly. He had previously known Nydfara to be a hard-working if fairly aloof sort of man, even at times pleasant, but this was absurd.

Sensing Léof’s mood, Nydfara put up his hands placatingly. “I mean no offense, yet I find your response to Thornden’s orders odd. One might think that you were trying to aid the fugitives, rather than find them. And that would be more than odd. It would be treasonous.”

“What! You’re mad!” cried Léof, loudly enough that Æthel snorted and stomped her foot. He lowered his voice. “I did not even know what had happened until ten minutes ago, and am now going out to search. What are you doing to help, other than searching for conspiracies where there are none?”

“I would not be so sure of that. I ask you again: why did you not think to find the fugitives in the stables?”

“If you must know, their horses are not in their stalls,” said Léof, frustrated and wanting nothing more to do with Nydfara. “Erbrand and Lithor left with them some time ago.”

“And you did not try to stop them?” asked Nydfara. “Or tell anyone?”

“I did not know they had done anything wrong! I already told you that. Nor is it my practice to interrogate everyone who comes into the stable and leaves with his own horse. There is nothing here for you to report about me, if that’s what you’re after. I’ve already told Thornden what I know. Now, I would kindly ask you to leave, for I have nothing left to say to you.”

“Not so kindly, I think,” said Nydfara. “But as you wish.” He bowed slightly and left the stable.

“I wonder what that was about,” he muttered irritably as he turned back to the care of his horse. Perhaps it had been a jest (albeit an odd one). Or maybe there was some darker purpose – maybe Nydfara had actually been the one helping the fugitives, and he was trying to blame someone else. No, that made little sense. Lithor and Erbrand hadn’t needed any help; when they left, no one knew there was a problem. Right?

~*~*~*~

Nydfara, or Scyld, as he had once been known, smiled slightly to himself as he left the stable. That had been too easy, and more fun than he had expected. It had been so long since he had needed to manipulate information out of anyone that he feared he was growing rusty. Léof had been almost laughably easy to needle and, for as reluctant as he had initially been to speak, he had confirmed all that Nydfara wanted to know from him.

What he would do with the information was the question. He did not yet have proof of anything, but he, like Léof, was skeptical of the plans for the search parties. Searching the grounds and the marshes seemed a waste of resources, when the fugitives had taken off on horseback. He knew from experience that the scar was no terrain for riders, and the marshes were at least as bad. So why not instead send out more groups such as Coenred’s?

Thornden was an intelligent man. Nydfara could not speak for Athanor or Coenred, and them he could suppose were acting on misinformation. But since Léof had shared his knowledge with Thornden, if they did indeed continue on their current plan, Nydfara would indeed be suspicious. Perhaps Thornden had not directly aided them, but he also did not seem eager to catch them. Nydfara had observed his friendship with them, and he had no doubt that Athanor would want to know that his new officer had placed friendship over law.

Nor was Nydfara above wanting to curry favor with the new lord. It seemed that Athanor had few enough allies among the old crowd here. He did not know why, exactly; Eodwine did not seem likely to return. Anyway, one lord was much the same as another to him, and none were to be trusted.

And yet – if he shared these suspicions he had, he would be far more likely to make enemies of Thornden, Léof, and others than to make friends with Athanor. In fact, if his suspicions were wrong, he may just be labeled as a troublemaker (and an eavesdropper and a spy, as Léof had pointed out). He would have to think about it, and make his move, if he made one at all, sometime after Thornden left with his search party.

[Folwren]

"You two get down from that tree before we shake you down!" the captain of the guard shouted. Javan blinked in surprised. Coenred seemed very upset about something and quite honestly, Javan did not feel like going down if the captain was in a bad mood.

"But there are three of us," he observed without moving.

"Then all of you, get down!"

Javan looked at his two companions, pressed his lips together resolvedly, and bent down to grasp the treebranch. He swung his legs down and dropped to the ground just before Captain Coenred. Cnebba and Garmund landed behind him.

"Well?" Javan asked. "We're not the ones you're looking for. Hadn't you better keep searching? We were only coming out to watch."

[Durelin]

When the boys jumped down from the tree, Coen recognized the apparently lead boy as the one who had gotten into a fight -- a physical fight -- with Aedre. This boy needed some paddling, dearly. Fighting with a girl, and with a real smart mouth on him...

"Do you have respect for anyone, boy?" he asked, almost growling. He preferred disciplining a soldier with his head in the wrong place any day to dealing with a brat...much less three of them. They wanted to watch? Watch smugly while two criminals escaped judgment, responsibility?

Coen knew how these more backwater places could be all too prideful about their communities, but there was something just...off about Scarburg folks, he swore it. All he had seen so far were brash words, mad men, and liars. He had that young man Thornden had a good head on his shoulders, but now he had apparently seen his true colors. He respected the Lady Saeryn but would respect her more if she didn't have so many hounds guarding her apparent interests.

"Fearghall," he called to one of his men. "Take these boys back to the Hall. String 'em up and drag them along behind you if you have to," he remarked. He knew Fearghall had enough sense not to take Coen seriously on his suggestion, even if the Captain was tempted. "This is no spectacle," he grumbled.

[Folwren]

Javan stood glowering after Coenred. He hardly minded a word that Fearghall said to them. He finally turned back to the man as he finished speaking.

“Look, sir,” Javan said, trying to sound like the men did when they bargained. “All we wanted to do was amuse ourselves a bit. We weren’t causing no harm. If you take us back, we’ll probably be seen by Cnebba’s mum, here, and be given chores of some sort. Worse yet, we might be in trouble for slipping off in the first place. Why don’t you just go back to Captain Coenred and tell him you took care of us, we’ll meander back towards the hall and just stay out of sight?”

He looked hopefully up at the soldier. If the man fell for it, the boys would be left to their own devices again, and they’d decide what to do after he had left.

[Folwren]

“I think you’re right there, Falco,” Saeryn said, taking a seat to his left at the table. “All is not right here,” she said in a low and serious voice. “There are moments when I hope that all will be well, but then things happen and the place is thrown into an uproar.”

“Like what things?” Falco asked.

“Well, the very first day lord Athanar and his people came there were two fights in the courtyard. Then that night, Lithor made a toast to Athanar and all the others, and some of the things he said infuriated lord Athanar so that he accused Lithor of treasonous actions, or at least of thoughts and words, I can’t remember now exactly what it was he said, but he was so angry that he decided to bring Lithor before his seat of court the following morning. But before the night was out, Thornden had left to speak with Lithor and Athanar’s sons overheard them speaking and accused them both of treason and plotting against lord Athanar.

“Lord Athanar did handle things well in his court, I admit, but he did not understand Lithor, and that is why he reacted so. Lithor was given extra duties in addition to his duties as a soldier. He made some very serious threats, though, and made it clear that no foolishness would be tolerated. He informed everyone than any more fights or brawls would be punished by flogging. It is not bad in itself..we don’t want fights and the like here, but it is so harsh compared to Eodwine.”

“Is that all that has happened?” Falco asked.

“No. After the trial, the people went about their business, and the soldiers went out to be drilled by the captain, Coenred, and Thornden. By chance, one of Athanar’s soldiers went to the stream, near where Erbrand, the tanner, was working, and somehow it came about that Erbrand and this soldier fought. Erbrand nearly killed him, and came back here before anyone had found out. He spoke to me briefly before he left, but he did not tell me why he was leaving, though I found out soon enough. But before he left, Lithor met him, and together they rode away.

“Fordides and Ginna brought Scyrr, the soldier, back. That was when lord Athanar discovered what had happened. And not long after, when the other soldiers returned for the noon meal, it became plain that Lithor and Erbrand had both left. Athanar immediately had search parties formed, and though they did not catch them, I know his intent as clearly as though he had spoken it – they both would have been judged harshly, possibly both been put to death, had they been found. They were not, thank heaven, but had they been - !" she broke off and said nothing. Her hands clasped each other tightly on the table top where they rested. She calmed her frightened tone and looked at Falco again.

“Falco, I don’t like what has happened. The people are discontent and unhappy, and Athanar’s heavy hand in ruling is not helping them settle under the horrible news that Eodwine may never return. But I don’t know how to stop it.”

[Folwren]

Whilst the soldiers rode away to do their soldiering deeds, and the old Scarburgians hurried about meeting old friends or attending to their regular duties, one person of Athanar’s household roamed the premises mostly unseen and entirely unnoticed. He poked about the empty hall, and then ambled across the courtyard to the stables, peering into the empty stalls and then into the empty paddocks. Nearly every horse had been taken out. Lord Eodwine’s horse remained in his stall, a lonely reminder of his master’s absence.

Old Raban he was – trustworthy, elderly man of Athanar’s. Wounded almost beyond recognition, and maimed to such a degree that he could not walk without a stick and a limp, nor straighten his back, he was a strange figure and a living reminder of the wars not too long ago fought. He was on a mission this morning, and so far, his purpose had remained unfulfilled.

He left the stables and walked towards Harreld’s smithy. He knew it by the smoke that came from the forge’s chimney and the clanging of hammer against steel. Slowly he rounded the doorpost and stood on the doorstep looking in while the young smith worked tirelessly with tong and hammer.

“Have you a moment, young man?” Raban ask. “I have a request to ask of you, and a duty to fulfill for my lord Athanar.”

[littlemanpoet]

The morning dragged on slowly. The pain was not going away. It was worsening. All his hopes had been to share his life with Ginna; all that was gone, in a mere moment. He was determined not to stop his work, not to give into the pain. He set his face, clenched his teeth, and set himself a fierce pace with hammer and tong. It would not keep his thoughts in check - nothing could do that - but it would at least mask his pain from others.

The door opened. Now who? He stopped, his back still to the intruder.

“Have you a moment, young man? I have a request to ask of you, and a duty to fulfill for my lord Athanar.”

Harreld turned at the sound of the elderly voice, which did not quaver, but the years could be heard in it. It was Raban, Athanar's old smith. What Raban saw in his face seemed to startle him for a moment, but the old man collected himself.

"What is your request?" Harreld's voice sounded gruff in his own ears. He imagined that he must look as if he were in an unending rage, his eyes hard, his jaw set, a tightness in his cheeks. It could not be helped.

[Folwren]

Raban entered the smithy cautiously now. There seemed to be no reason for Harreld’s passion, and yet there he was, apparently caught in the midst of some terrible struggle or fury, just held at bay by his physically violent work. The old soldier steeled himself to his purpose and set right to the business he had come to perform.

“You were there when my lord Athanar brought Javan before his seat of court, and you heard the sentence given to the boy. I am to teach him how to make a shirt of chain mail. What I ever did to deserve such punishment, I’ll never know, but my lord’s wishes cannot be gainsaid by an old man’s grumblings. I came asking if your smithy could afford the space and the forge needed for such work. I have tools of my own, and would need but a corner of your space…” He looked about with his one keen eye, appraising what space there was. Not much, really. Some organizing and ordering would have to be done to make room for two more people. He looked back at Harreld. “Do you think it might be done?”

[littlemanpoet]

Faramund was startled by the sudden violence from Athanar. What had set this man off? Surely not himself! His little demonstration in the yard had not been enough to cause this untoward behavior in the man. Something must be eating him, Faramund conjectured. He eyed Athanar now, picked up his tankard and took a long drink, juggling in his mind the most useful way to reply. He could tell him that how he came into his wealth was none of his business as long as he gave Athanar the fees he had coming. Or he could tell him that his father had been of humble means because the poor wretch had never known how to keep his wealth about him. Or, he could tell him that he had agreed with the other lords nearby that they would charge higher fees for crimes than had been done in the past. All three were pieces of the truth. But he had his self-respect to consider, and this man was abusing it, eorl or not; he had controlled himself too late.

"Eorl you may be, lord Athanar," he said slowly, "which no doubt gives you certain rights and privileges. I daresay I will not find among them treating your landholders as beardless boys. Keep at it and you will not reach your aim here, if I read it rightly."

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld looked about him, following Raban's measuring gaze about his shop. He sighed heavily, his tight face loosening just a little.

"It is cluttered. But I expect my brother soon, and so room must be made. Since you need a smithy to do your duty to lord Athanar, this one must serve. Let us clear a space, and you may begin."

[littlemanpoet]

An apology of any kind from this arrogant eorl was a step in the right direction, Faramund thought.

"Apology accepted. And my thanks for your compliment on the drink."

He paused to take a sip of his mead and set down his tankard. "As for these trinkets and blandishments, some of them have been in this chamber for generations. My serving maids do a fair job of keeping the spiderwebs off them. However, this region has been subject to a rash of lawlessness of late. I have of course charged fines and fees for them. The more heinous the crime, the higher the fee, as you can well understand, my lord. I do not ask these fools to break the law to increase my wealth, but since they do thieve and flout the king's law, I as landholder to reap a small reward therefrom ... as I'm sure you understand..."

[Folwren]

“I should be unwilling to cause you any sort of annoyance and make you stop your work,” Raban told Harreld. “Let me find the boy, and he and I will begin making space while you work, and instruct us where to put things. Will that suffice?”

“No, I do not mind helping you clear a space,” Harreld replied. “In fact, I would insist that I do it with you. Go and find the boy, and when you have returned, I will have decided where we shall put you and how to begin cleaning the place.”

Raban nodded and turned to go without another word. He walked with his slow, uneven gait across the courtyard to the stables again. Although Javan had not been there when he first searched the place, he knew that he was supposed to be working there. The temporary distraction of greeting the newcomer was likely taken care of and out of the way, and he should be back at his work.

As soon as he entered the dimly lit and musty smelling place, he heard the scrape of the pitchfork against the stall floor. He slowly paced down the aisle to where the wheelbarrow stood. At quick, even intervals, a thick shower of shavings, straw, and manure came shooting out of the stall door and into the barrow.

Raban stopped just outside the stall door and beside the wheelbarrow. He looked in quietly and waited until Javan turned about to pitch the next load out. The boy gave a start, and his aim fell short.

“You frightened me!” Javan said. It would not have been so bad were it just anybody standing there, but the disfigured face in the half light looked even more grotesque than when he first saw him. “What do you need?”

“You and I are going to begin our long tutelage together today,” Raban said.

“Today?” Javan repeated. “But, Léof is gone and I have to work in the stables.”

“How many more stalls have you left?”

Javan glanced up and down aisle, counted mentally the stalls he had already done, the ones that did not need to be cleaned, and then answered with some chagrin. “Just three, maybe.”

“They can wait for this afternoon. Now, come with me and we will go to the smithy and see what needs to be done there. We should finish preparing our space by noontime, and once we are done in there, you may finish here.”

Javan frowned a little. “Very well. Let me finish this stall, then.”

“No,” Raban said firmly. “Harreld is waiting for us.” He turned about and walked towards the door. “Come along, young man, come along.”

Javan rolled his eyes, propped the pitchfork against the half filled wheelbarrow, and followed the old man to Harreld’s smithy.

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar looked at Faramund as he spoke and nodded occasionally to encourage him to continue. But as Faramund finished lord Athanar's face turned into solid and grey like a stone. He looked at him to the eyes relentlessly for a while, thinking.

Suddenly he turned back and called for Hilderinc who had still been standing at the door. He waved Hilderinc to bow towards him so that he could whisper to his ear without Faramund being able to hear what he said: "Go and find that man who was thrown out from this hall as we came here... and bring him here as soon as you find him."

Hilderinc nodded, bowed to both lord Athanar and lord Faramund, and left.

Lord Faramund was puzzled but managed to keep his calm, at least to an extent. But lord Athanar was not fooled that much. He knew the man was uncomfortable right now.

Athanar took a sip from his goblet and then queried Faramund, in an almost absent-minded tone: "So, small fees, without any interest to yourself?" He toyed again with the goblet.

"Well you sure have the proceedings and fines accounted for? Why don't you send someone to get me the documents. I'd like to eye them as your eorl..." He smiled now, not triumphantly or sneering, but self-assuredly enough for Faramund to realise what he was up to. And that was exactly what lord Athanar wished to convey.

[littlemanpoet]

Faramund wanted to wipe that smirk off Athanar's face, especially because the man seemed bent on showing off his superior education. What was he showing off for? Faramund was an eorling through and through, unlike this over-learned Gondorian imitator. Best to deal with it directly.

"Forgive me, my lord," Faramund said. "I have not dealt with men who so make Gondor their second home, as you surely must. I am not sure what you mean by these words, in trist, prow seeding, dock you meant, and the rest. You are more learned than I, no doubt. Do you mean the ledger?"

"Aye, the ledger," Athanar replied.

Faramund called over Stedford and told him to fetch the ledger. What Athanar hoped to garner from that Faramund could not guess. No matter. For Eorlingas a man's word was his bond. The ledger held only lists of items received and still owed.

What was this man up to? Did he have notions of overturning Faramund's judgment? A bile of hatred built suddenly inside. But Faramund held it in check. Let his old piece of coal have his say here this day. Once gone, Faramund would do as he pleased.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc left the hall promptly after hearing Athanar's order. He was not, in fact, entirely sure about the man Athanar wanted him to fetch – he had been too busy with other thoughts that he had hardly noticed the man when they were arriving. But he did not want to ask details from Athanar or Thornden in the room, especially as it seemed clear that the lord did not want Faramund to overhear this command. It did not matter – Hilderinc was simply going to find and ask some of the other soldiers, or some of the locals.

He assumed that the rest of Athanar's men will already be inside the hall, but he went to the courtyard in case the man was still there, or somebody who might be able to help him. When he had walked outside, he stopped and blinked in the still rather bright light of the autumn day, too bright after the calm twilight of the inside of Faramund's hall. Everything seemed calm and peaceful, a soft wind was blowing from the fields and the courtyard was almost empty and quiet except for the sound of horses snuffling from the paddock and the clucking of a few hens from somewhere out of sight. He could not see anybody who would have seemed like the man he had been looking for, only a bit further away he could spot a man who was probably one of the local servants, and coming from the paddock with two pairs of horses, the young "stablemaster" of Scarburg – what was the boy's name again? – and what seemed to be Quin. Why isn't he inside with the rest of the men? Hilderinc thought. But then he was reminded of his own reluctance to share the company of others at some times, so maybe the young soldier felt similarly at this moment. Rather immediately, however, Hilderinc was surprised by realising his own thought – he would never have compared anybody to himself (and much less even compared himself to anybody). It was a rather alien feeling to think of somebody in such a way... no, he shrugged the idea away without thinking about it more deeply. And as the two were coming closer, he decided to go to meet them, as he had considered it easier than to summon them to come after him. They seemed to be busy with the horses anyway, and there was a chance that if he had called them, only one might have come. It was better to ask them both, there was a better chance of them knowing something.

Swiftly, he crossed the courtyard and the two stopped as they spotted him, breaking their chatter. Young Quin looked at him questioningly as he approached, but Hilderinc spoke before he could.

"It's all right, Quin, you are not required inside," he said with a bit of smirk in his face. "I just wanted to ask the two of you whether you remember the man who was," he tried to recall Athanar's exact words, "who was thrown out of the hall as we came here." A slight move in the "stablemaster's" face affirmed that at least he knew who he was talking about.

"I was wondering whether you don't happen to know where he might be, or if you haven't seen him around, since you are out here," Hilderinc continued. "So, what do you say?" He looked around as if checking that nobody else is near. "Lord Athanar had asked me to bring the man inside – you don't need to tell this to anybody, is that clear! - but I am sure that he would rather have him brought as soon as possible, and since the two of you are out here, you could as well help me."

[littlemanpoet]

"Now that's what has me puzzled," Falco replied to Saeryn, using his pipe as a pointer. "You're no longer the Lady of Scarburg; this here Lady Wynflaed is that. And as you're Eodwine's wife, it seems to me your duty is with him, way over yonder in Minas Tirith. Now I could be wrong, and forgive me if there's something I don't see, but that's how it looks the way my eyes see it."

Saeryn looked taken aback a moment, frowning. The others gathered around looked from eye to eye. Falco supposed that they were saying silently between themselves that this seemed to make obvious sense to them; or maybe their looks meant, "this hobbit just does not understand". Fine and well. He hoped they'd make him understand, and maybe he could help them. It was the least he could do for Eodwine as the dear old Big Fool wasn't here to speak for himself.

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar had been testing the young lord and looking for a reaction. And he had been looking forwards to one. Still he was taken quite unawares with the violence of lord Faramund's sudden burst. So I was right then? He thought to himself as he noticed Thornden going to the door leading to Faramund's personal quarters.

After calling for Faramund Thornden turned questioningly towards lord Athanar who only raised his open palm asking him to wait. It was quiet.

After a moment of silence lord Athanar rose up and turned towards the door.

"Lord Faramund! I have not yet enough evidence to break through your door and have you arrested. And I hope there will never be a need to make that case. But if there is, rest assured I will not shy away from it." He nodded to Thornden to follow him and was already turning towards the door when he halted and called Faramund one more time.

"We'll leave you in peace here but will check the ledger in the hall before we go." He made a short pause. "So good day to you as well."


Walking through Faramund's hall Ahtanar gave Thornden quick instructions talking in a hushed voice.

"Well Thornden, we have a lot to do and the longer it takes the more chances there are for problems to emerge. I hope Stedford will come soon with the ledger. Get five men here for me to the hall and help Hilderinc find that man they threw out from here. When you find him, get him here... oh, and tell Coen to keep an eye on things and get ready if something looks out of the ordinary. Brief him on the situation and he'll know what to do."

They had reached the main door and stepped out into the sunlight. "Any questions?"

[Nogrod]

Before Thornden had a chance but to eye the eorl he seemed to have something to add.

"And one more thing... how stupid of me to not bring it as the first thing. Send two men up the road to look if Faramund tries to send a messenger to Tancred in secret. They have my authority to hold anyone trying to get a message to Tancred, with force if needs be."

He looked at Thornden half-smiling. "Questions?"

[Folwren]

Thornden shook his head once before veering off to carry out Athanar’s orders. He found Coenred with the rest of the men. Most of them were out in the courtyard again, after quenching their thirst from riding.

“Lord Athanar wants five men inside with him. Two need to mount again and rid to the road and intercept any rider that Faramund sends out.”

“Is there trouble?” Coenred asked quietly.

Thornden hesitated in shaking his head either positively or negatively. Finally he answered, “I hope not. I think lord Athanar just wants to make sure that no trouble is made. Faramund is dodging all of lord Athanar’s questions about how well off the place is and why it seems to be thriving. I think he suspects Faramund somehow, for the people here don’t seem happy, but Faramund himself is rich. Anyway, as I said, Faramund won’t answer things straight, and then finally he got up and left. I think he was insulted.” He looked Coenred straight in the eye. “Listen, you are close enough to Athanar to possibly speak to him. Ask him to handle Faramund and the other lords carefully from this time on. Perhaps he’ll listen to you, but I dare not venture say a word, for fear he misunderstands me. He is too rough, too…dominating. Faramund cannot handle it, and I fear he may become angry and violent.

“But come, we must not tarry here. Get your men. I must got help Hilderinc find the man that was thrown out. Have you seen him?”

[littlemanpoet]

He had changed his mind. He was not going to wait for Athanar to take action. He would do it himself. He had left his private quarters through another door and made for the mess hall.

As he expected, many of his men were there refreshing themselves after having finished his drill.

"Up, men! The Eorl threatens to take unlawful action against us! Arm yourselves! The Eorl think he can order things as he pleases on land not his own! Speed to the stables and mount! Place yourselves in tight ranks! Show this overweening lordling he cannot take your holdings from you!"

Only I can do that, he said to himself.

His men hurried dutifully toward the stables. He followed them at a more leisurely pace. He stopped the slowest of his retainers.

"Where is Stedford? I have need of him!"

"I saw him on an errand, lord."

"What errand? I gave him no errand!"

"I know not, lord."

Faramund shook his head, irritated. He continued on toward the stables. Meanwhile, Stedford passed by him just beyond an inner wall, ledger in hand, aimed toward Lord Athanar.

[Folwren]

Coenred communicated that he had seen the man in question when they first came, but apart from seeing him stumble off to the side and end up in the stables, he could give no other information as to his whereabouts.

“Thank you. See to your men.” Thornden turned and headed towards the stables. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another figure converging on the same path. He turned his head and saw Hilderinc. “Have you not found him yet?” Thornden asked.

“I was told he was in the stable.”

“That was Captain Coenred’s guess, too,” Thornden replied. “Good. Possibly we will find him, then. Did you see him when we rode up? You were in back, I would be surprised if you had.”

“I did not,” Hilderinc replied. Thornden described Wiglaf’s appearance quickly as they approached the stables. “He shouldn’t be too hard to find. I imagine not many people will be in here anyway.”

But when they entered, they found the place half full of men already. Thornden stopped short on the threshold and he darted a quick glance about. “Hilderinc. . .” he paused and frowned in frustrated thought. “Hilderinc, go back and tell lord Athanar that Faramund’s men are getting their horses. . .and they are armed.” Hilderinc nodded and turned to obey. Thornden stood and considered a moment longer before acting. How dangerous were these men? Would he be in danger if he continued in his errand of finding Wiglaf amongst them? Would they try to harm him if he tried to enter the stables further? The fact of the matter was, he no longer wanted to find Wiglaf. He wanted to speak to Faramund, and he needed to do it quickly. Where would the young lord be? If he were in the hall, he would be speaking to Athanar. If he were not in the hall, he would be seen by someone outside. He had gone to speak to his men and sent them in this direction to get their horses. Lord Faramund, probably, would be preparing himself just like his men. He would be here, then. Somewhere.

Thornden made up his mind. He stepped forward boldly, made eye contact with no one, and began threading his way through the men carrying saddles and bridle, around the broad flanks of horses, and towards the end of the stables closest to the hall. Then, as he drew near the outer door, he saw Faramund enter. He went forward quickly and unnoticed and stepped quite close to Faramund before the young lord gave a sign that he knew he was present.

"Lord Faramund," he said, his voice low and quiet in the hubbub of the men and horses. "May I have a word with you?"

[Thinlómien]

"N-no. I don't think so. Do you think Frodides would be kind enough to give us some time to talk?"

"Sure", Modtryth said. "Come, let's go sit by the oak, there we can have a moment of peace."

She took the younger woman by the arm and led her to the edge of the patch of forest, letting go of her arm soon enough. She didn't want to be too intrusive. "Frodides shall be fine", she assured Ginna. "There were only the two of us in the kitchen a moment ago, and she could hardly come up with anything to do for me. She sent me to fetch water although I already hauled her more water in the morning than what she needs for the whole day."

Modtryth sat down in the pleasant shade of the huge tree, and Ginna sat down next to her. It still would have been a good day without all the worries, Modtryth thought. She gave the girl a half-smile.

"So, what's it that needs fixing?"

[littlemanpoet]

A stranger approached him in the stables. Faramund was about to ignore him but there was an urgency in the young man that made him curious. The stranger came close and started speaking in low and intense tones.

"Lord Faramund, may I have a word with you?"

The youth looked familiar but Faramund couldn't place him. A stranger, he was probably not from nearby. Scarburg?

"Be quick! What is your business?"

[Folwren]

Thornden had expected more of a rebuff from Faramund, more of an obvious show of hostility. But there was little of that – just haste and impatience. It gave him a little hope.

“If you are preparing your men to fight against lord Athanar, you may want to think further about it. Lord Athanar has the authority of the king’s word and command behind him. If you defy Athanar, you defy King Eomer.” He thought hard in attempt to find something diplomatic to say, something to cool the man’s head. The best he came up with was, “You and lord Athanar have your differences, but they must be thought through, and spoken out, not solved through fighting.”

[littlemanpoet]

Faramund regarded the earnest young man.

"Who are you? You were in the council moments ago. What is your name?"

"I am Thornden, Lord Athanar's steward."

Ah. Now he remembered him. He had stood against the three of them with that woman, the lady of Scarburg. And this steward had thrown him out! He raised himself up as high as his stature allowed, raised his chin, and looked down his nose at this steward of Scarburg.

"I take arms to defend what is mine, as do those with me." Then he leaned into Thornden, eyed him squarely, and raised his pointing finger into the young man's face. "Look here, even the king's law has limits. No man can walk on to another's land and act as if it's his own. Not Athanar, not Eomer. Tell your eorl that for me!"

He held Thornden with his eyes a moment longer, then stalked away. He knew he was in the right on this one. No doubts at all. He was determined to protect what was his from all comers, no matter who they were are claimed to be.

[Lhunardawen]

"So, what's it that needs fixing?"

My heart? My relationship with Harreld? Ginna did not quite know how to answer. How could she, when she did not even have any idea of what was going on?

Her head was bowed, her hands clasped together on her lap. She glanced at Modtryth from the corner of her eye; she was smiling slightly but her eyes were soft, filled with concern. Here was a kindly woman whose appearance much belied her character. Ginna thought of how, despite her lineage, Modtryth was happily married to Stigend.

She had come to the right person.

"How did you know that you and Stigend were right for each other?"