Scarburg Meadhall

[Folwren]

Saeryn

“Do you reall think the king is wrong? Might he be persuaded of it?”

Saeryn lifted her head and looked at her. “Of course the king is wrong,” she said. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I do not mean to be disrespectful, but that is how it is. And. . .I don’t know. . .maybe he could be persuaded of it, but what do you want me to do? Ride to Edoras and inform King Eomer that he is mistaken and must put Eodwine back in his seat as eorl? If Eodwine was angry about me announcing his arrival as eorl to the women in the kitchen, he would be even more angry about me going to court. I have to convince Eodwine of what is right before I try to convince the king.

--

Quin

“I didn’t think about it all that hard, but I guess I thought that Athanar would leave.”

Quin put his cup down on the table with a clump and stared at Leof. Some of the other men had the same reaction, but not all of their glances were quite as devoid of suspicion and anger as Quin’s look.

“You really mean that,” Quin marveled. “You really thought that he might go?”

“Impudence,” muttered Scyrr. “After all lord Athanar has done for you…”

Quin frowned, but did not ask Scyrr to keep quiet. He kept his eyes on Leof, and he realized how uncomfortable he had become admitting what he’d just said. Quin regretted pressing the issue, but it was too late now. He had more questions he would like to ask Leof, but later would have to suffice. To press for more thoughts now on the matter would probably only make the other men angrier with Leof, and that would not do.

“I. . .I think I need to get to work, or something,” he said lamely. Surely, there was work to be done. They had tarried longer than usual at the breakfast table this morning. He got up and walked away.

[Durelin]

Coen’s eyebrows rose. Eodwine would ‘restore order?’ What did Thornden mean by that? While Eodwine seemingly let go of his former position willingly, or at least accepted the king’s decisions without grudge, these people would not let his power go.

“Lord Athanar will keep order in this hall, and I am sure Eodwine will not do anything to disrupt that order.”

He stood and looked at the rest of the men at the table just after Quin left. The young man had the right idea. “You’ve all lingered enough at table. Those of you who have duties this morning better get to them.” Coen then left the hall, planning to check to see if Athanar had need of him before making his rounds to see that the men were at their duties or appropriately occupied.

Not all of them had work to do this morning or posts to be at, though he did his best to keep their hands busy. There was always labor about the hall they could help with, especially since some building was still in progress. But this morning, even just breaking them up from sitting all together at the table might keep things a little quieter… With all those men together and recent events on their minds and tongues, he did not want to return to those first days at the hall.

[Firefoot]

As the discussion over the breakfast table broke up at Coenred's bidding, Scyld also excused himself from the table. He paid little attention to the interplay between Scyrr and Léof – Scyld already knew Scyrr to be a troublemaker and Léof to be over-sensitive. An amusing combination, really, but Scyld was more interested now in the reactions of those he knew less well.

Much of the hall was nearing completion, but still some projects remained. Scyld knew that several of the soldiers would be outside working on the shelter for the sheep pen, so he too headed in that direction. What might the soldiers be saying out of earshot of the original Scarburgians and the authorities? Of course, Scyld himself came originally from Eodwine's household, but he had shown himself sympathetic to the new soldiers. Scyld had learned early on that it was best not to take sides before it was clear which side would win out.

The air outside was brisk and cold; though the sun was shining, it gave off little heat so late in the year. Once he began working, though, Scyld knew he would warm up. He wasn't sure what he would do once the hall was finished. Sorn seemed scarcely remembered here, not even a year after Eodwine's household had moved in. He scarcely knew what he was doing now. Prying, information gathering – but for what? The stakes were hardly so high now as they once had been. He shrugged off that dismal train of thought as he approached the half-finished sheep pen. One could never know too little.

Several soldiers were just beginning work as he arrived: Hilderinc, Aforglaed, Quin, and Hylath. “Good morning,” he said as he walked up, though he had already seen a couple of them at breakfast. The soldiers greeted him in return, and Scyld fell into work beside them. After a few minutes, he found himself standing next to young Quin. Judging from breakfast, Scyld thought he might be the easiest to get talking. “Bit of a shocker what Léof said about Athanar leaving, wasn't it?” he asked.

[Firefoot]

The sun cast long shadows across the hall grounds as Scyld and the other men made their way back from the fields where the sheep pen stood well on its way to completion. He was tired and very hungry, and he thought eagerly of the feast that had been promised for Eodwine's return. His mouth watered at the scents that wafted out from the kitchen as they drew near – a faint fruity aroma underlaid the stronger smells of fresh bread and – best of all – fresh beef.

He hadn't even realized how chilled he had gotten working outside all day until he pushed open the door to the hall and stepped inside. Then the warmth enveloped him and suddenly he felt cold to the bone. He sank gratefully to a seat at a table near the fireplace and felt his limbs begin to thaw.

The women had begun bringing out the food, and the various residents of the hall were all trickling in from wherever they had been, the tasks of the day put aside in favor of the coming celebration. He noted each as they arrived, out of habit rather more than anything else. There was Athanar and his family, taking their accustomed seats. Léof, in from the stables, who seemed unsure of where he ought to sit down (or rather, who he ought to sit down with). Falco, who would no doubt eat as much as any soldier there – Scyld would have to ask him sometime if all halflings were such hearty eaters. Rowenna...

His mental checklist stuttered to a halt. One of the soldiers sitting near him followed his gaze and grinned. “That's a fine looking woman, there,” he said. Scyld glanced at him and recognized him as Aldric, the same soldier who had made the jest about Saeryn at the breakfast table.

Scyld shrugged as if to say, A little. “What of it?”

Aldric looked at him as if he were mad. “What of it? Why, she's even prettier than the Lady Saeryn... and the kitchen maid Ginna too. The prettiest woman in the hall! And not otherwise spoken for, unlike them.”

A queer emotion threatened to bubble up inside Scyld, but he pushed it away and instead merely raised an eyebrow at the other man. “So you think you have a chance with her?”

“Why not?” Aldric was watching Rowenna, and so did not see Scyld smirking with an unsaid reply: Because you don't know the half of what's coming if you approach her.

[Folwren]

When Quin came back into the hall for the grand meal, his thoughts reverted to the discussion at breakfast and the talk that had followed out at the sheep pen. The people would again see how Eodwine and Athanar interacted, and perhaps after tonight everyone would know better what to think of Eodwine’s presence. He knew that he and other soldiers thought that Athanar should stay, but he wondered still if those who had been used to Eodwine as their eorl would think differently. He wanted to ask Léof again, but that had gone badly this morning, and now he did not even know if Léof would speak to him.

He looked about, hoping to catch sight of Léof. He spotted him seated on the end of the workmen’s table near Stigend and Garstan. Quin went towards him and stopped by his side.

“I hope you are not angry with what happened this morning. I meant no mischief.”

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna was helping Ginna and the others serving the food. This had been her charge before she had left, and she fell back into it with ease; Ginna and the others appreciated the extra hands, especially as she knew her way around the pantries, not to mention the habits of Frodides. Eodwine and Saeryn had not come in yet. She supposed Athanar had special plans. He did seem to be one for the grand gesture, as if he were especially aware of how his actions affected how his folk viewed him.

She watched the men come in the Hall from their work. They brought the cold in with them, and visibly relaxed into the warmth of the room. The fire in the hearth had been built high this night, for the air was even colder than most nights. There was Garreth, and even Harreld who had apparently been pressed to join them though it was not his way of late, she was told. Poor Ginna. Rowenna had not heard too much, but things were not as they should be between them, and Harreld needed a good talking to. But Rowenna knew better than to charge in where not asked.

There was Nydfara. She schooled herself not to change her manner even if her heart would not behave. Why did it start beating faster just because she noticed him in the room? How frustrating. She suffered him not a glance as she brought out a large tray with a half dozen tankards of mead. What was this? One of the men sauntered up the aisle toward her, a haughty half grin on his face, looking directly at her. Oh. One of these. Yes, he was coming toward her with an air as if he believed himself to be the answer in man's form for all the questions a woman had. She forced herself not to roll her eyes. He stopped right in front of her, his eyes half closed, with the confident smile of a rogue. She raised an eyebrow.

"I am Aldric. Are you offering drinks?" he asked.

"I bring them to table," she replied.

"Why thank you, I'll take one. How could I resist the offer of such a pretty little thing as you?" He took one of the six off her tray, winking at his double meaning as if he were the cleverest womanizer in all Rohan. She caught the tray with her other hand before the other five drinks could do more than slosh in their tankards.

"I made you no offer."

"Ah, but you wanted to. I could see it in your eyes."

Rowenna groaned inside. He was not bad looking, but his manner grated and bespoke a character beneath her. "You misread my eyes."

"Oho! You play hard to get. I know how it goes. I am not so easily put off. Come sit at my table tonight so we can get acquainted, and," he paused meaningfully, "see how things go from there."

"They'll not go anywhere. Not with the likes of you."

He raised his brow. "You do not know me. I am the best horseman in Scarburg, and am among the best with a sword or spear. My aim never fails of its target." He lifted his free hand to the hair on her shoulder and played it between his fingers. "Once I set my eye on a target, I will hit the bullseye. Maybe not the first time, but I always do, with practice, if you know what I mean." He winked.

She forced her lip not to curl in disgust. "Your prowess in marksmanship may be all that you say, but you miss the mark with me." With a twitch of her head she yanked her hair out of his grasp. "And always will. Let me by, please."

"Are you spoken for then?"

"No, I am not. But I speak for myself, and I say that you do not interest me. Let me by. I have tables to serve."

He frowned a moment but recovered and smiled. "Now now, that is no way to talk. You are the prettiest lass here. Sit with me at table."

"I'd sooner sit at table with a toad than you. Out of my way."

He stepped partly out of her path and she brushed by him, glad the conversation was over. She did not see Aldric's evil look at her back. She did look involuntarily at Nydfara, who appeared to be watching Aldric with a smirk. He glanced toward her. The smirk left his face, and he looked away almost as quickly as she did. She found a table far from him, set the tray down, and returned to the kitchen for more. The evening had better start going better, she thought to herself, or she would be returning to the Folde as soon as was possible.