Scarburg Meadhall

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar sat down and took a bite of cheese falling deep into his thoughts. Now that's it... sending a clear message without forcing it out into the open! That's the way I can let the king know without looking like a jerk... some light then, some light then... He took a sip from his goblet and wiped his beard before taking a careful look at the hall.

The people hadn't mixed too much. Most of the people from his own household seemed to stick together as did the original people of the Mead Hall. To lord Athanar's great satisfaction he noted one table of soldiers having his men and the young soldiers of the Mead Hall together sharing some laughs. Maybe we have not lost hope then? Like dad used to say: drilling, drilling, drilling; there the bonds are made. He shook his head with the sad memory of his father. And then he rose up.

"I have a few short announcements to make!" The hussle and buzzle faded remarkably fast. Whatever the people felt, this was what they were looking forwards to.

"Thank you." he said, looking actually quite pleased with the effect his words had. "The first one I think is no news to most of you who have eyes and use them. Our searching parties didn't find the fugitives."

He monitored the reactions closely for the short time he needed to gather breath. "So I'm sending a word to king Eomer about Erbrand's attempted manslaughter and Lithor's desertion." Some murmurs were heard from the tables of the original Meadhallers, but Athanar quieted them down with a wave of his hand.

"Actually I'd like to see you both Coen and Thornden after I finish." He glanced at both of them and after receiving a nod from them he turned back to the hall.

"I am enraged about what happened to Scyrr today!" Suddenly there was a different lord Athanar on the stage. His eyes were in flames, spurred by his memories of the wars he had fought, rekindled by him trying to soothe and aid the bleeding man earlier in the day. Many of his men banged their pints to the tabletops for approval.

"But!" the banging of the pints died down like a sharp sword would have cut a paper in two.

"But... I'm not blaming anyone present for what happened. And none should!" Lord Athanar had been looking at the tables filled mostly with lord Eodwine's people, but with the last paert he glanced at his own men before concentrating on the original Meadhallers again. "None of you did it, and thus none of the blame should fall on you! Let there be no bad will on either side!"

A few backbone reactions of relief and joy spread over the Hall and suddenly the hall was full of applauds. Lord Athanar followed the reactions closely and seemed content to what he saw.

"Please, let me finish!" he shouted over the general noises of acceptance - and the hall went quiet.

"Tomorrow will be an important day in regards the future of this Hall. So not too much drinking today." There were some "gah's" from the crowd. "And no quarrels, mind you!" Some "aye's" were heard.

"All soldiers of the Scarburg Mead Hall, all of you!" After the initial bafflement all the soldiers, old and new, answered in chorus yelling "aye!"

"Tomorrow we're going to meet the local lords! Let's make sure we give them a show worthy of the king's Mead Hall!" There was a thunderous acceptance from the soldiers - and it was especially easy for the original Mead Hall soldiers to join the shouting as they remembered the pomp and circumstance - and the arrogance - with which the lords had visited them... "If they came here for a show-off, then let's show them as well!" There were loud "hurrah's" all around.

"But that means..." the hall went quiet again. "That means an early morning call and some serious work tomorrow morning. Trim your horses... and yourselves..." There was some scattered laughter. "Polish your gear, look what you are, look like true eorlinga!" The soldiers were beginning to applaud themselves but Athanar cut it with a swift wave of his hand. "Tomorrow evening, when we have made our position clear and the Mead Hall of Scarburg has been established for good... we'll have a big party, a big party indeed!"

With that all of the Mead Hall burst into cheers of both hope and relief. And for a moment the issues that had made a rift between the two people seemed nonexistant. People were proud of themselves and felt something like unity. Not that there weren't less happy faces around... and lord Athanar marked some. But for the most part the people seemed more relaxed they had thus far.

Nothing to unite people like a common enemy... lord Athanar thought to himself while clapping his hands with the crowd. He tried to hide his smile but couldn't.


Sitting down lord Athanar soon had both Coen and Thornden around him.

"Okay?" He asked and look at the two men.

"Good speech mylord." Coenred said.

"This may sow a seed of good things to come, lord Athanar. Well spoken." Thornden added.

"Thank you for your words. I hope we'll get the better of this lousy start... but anyway. I have a job for you, today." He looked at both of them. "Now, I want you to pick one soldier - both of you from your men - one that you think would have the most extreme way of looking at this divide there has been between the people. Pick the one you might think could pose a threat to our unity tomorrow, if there is any, or then just the man you think we'd least wish was there with us tomorrow. Tell them to meet me here in one and half hour to pick my letter to the king - and as I know anyone would be reluctant to go riding through the night, especially after this kind of a day, tell them they will have a day free tomorrow in Edoras and they will have to report to me they're back only in the evening meal of the day after tomorrow. That clear?"

Coen and Thornden looked puzzled but nodded.

"Well, off you go then to pick. I have a letter to write... so please excuse me." With that lord Athanar smiled and rose up, and with a nod left the table heading towards his chambers.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld walked back from the hall to his smithy, arm in arm with Ginna.

"Your face would curdle milk, Harreld!" Ginna said. "Did you not like the eorl's speech?"

"I've heard worse," Harreld allowed.

"Why the glum face then? You did not wear it until we left the hall."

Harreld heaved a sigh. "The eorl was playing us as if we were his circus beasts. It was as if he was on stage acting out a play. Eodwine never spoke to us so."

Ginna looked from side to side before replying. "It saddens me, remembering how differently Eodwine used to address us. He had always made us feel that we are more to him than mere servants. But careful now with your words, Harreld."

"The eorl will get no treason from me, fear not. I do not hate him, nor do I like him well." He sighed again. "Maybe I am merely overworked."

They went into the smithy.

"Are we to work more tonight?"

He sighed again. "Nay. It is late. No bellows work needed now. Go and take your rest."

She looked up at him with a determined expression. "I could stay here and keep you company, if you wish."

He smiled and almost relented, for she was a balm to him when he was in these moods. "Nay, lovely one, I think it would be best if I take some time alone."

She narrowed her eyes. "Best?"

"Maybe not," he paused, "best, but needed."

She touched his shoulder and caressed his face, and looked into his eyes. "Do not putter too late. Good night." She left him.

She knew him well. He did not expect to sleep soon for his mind ran the same ground over and over again, like the ruts a dog would make along the fence of its prison. He took a sword blade and a whet stone and set to work sharpening the edge.

It would be good to have Garreth back again. He would have Thornden deliver his message in Edoras, if the eorl would allow it. Or would Athanar not approve the extra mouth to feed? He was not sure. It angered him, because he knew that Eodwine would have welcomed another smith gladly were he needed, regardless of the extra food he would cost.

The sharper Harreld honed the sword edge, the bitterer his thought ran. He knew that it was not just what was wrong with Athanar; he missed Eodwine. I wish you well, lord and friend. He meant it, but what hope was there? Eodwine was as good as dead. He wiped at his eyes and refused the tears that wished to come, even though here away from prying eyes it would not seem unmanly. He worked far into the night until so weary that he could no longer stand it. Something must be done.

[Folwren]

“Extreme view of the situation here...threaten our unity...” Thornden mused at his table, repeating lord Athanar’s words while he pulled worriedly at his chin. His eyes scanned across the faces of his men seated near him, all engrossed in their own conversations of the following morning. His eyes settled briefly on Matrim. Of all the soldiers, save Lithor, Matrim had showed the most dissatisfaction with the new setting. Others had grumbled and questioned Athanar’s authority below their breath, but only Matrim had actually stood up for Eodwine and Saeryn. But, no. Matrim was Æđelhid’s escort and Thornden did not feel he had the freedom to send him away. He continued scanning his men.

Gárwine. He had known him since his first day at the Mead Hall. Gárwine loved Eodwine and Saeryn as much as Thornden did himself. He was not what one would call a troublemaker, but Thornden did not think any of his men really were. Yes, Thornden thought he would do very well. He would tell Athanar that although he did not think that Gárwine being with the company would cause any trouble, he felt that he at least filled the requirement of having an extreme view on the situation.