Scarburg Meadhall

[Firefoot]

As Athanar sat down and the cheers died away, Garreth leaned toward Léof and said, “And who might these louts be? Nobody ever tells us smiths anything! What news have you?"

Léof bit the inside of his lip, chagrined. In his pleasure he had forgotten that many people were about who might overhear; he was lucky that it was only Garreth and not one of Athanar's soldiers.

“Some of the soldiers that came here with Athanar do not think very highly of some of us who were here before them,” said Léof vaguely. However, from the look on Garreth's face he could tell that the smith wished to know more than that. Well, he was among friends here, he supposed, and could speak at least a little more freely. He grinned wryly. “They did not like it much when I told them this morning that I thought Athanar might leave when Eodwine came back.”

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

There was an applause at the end of the table where a cluster of Athanar's soldiers were sitting, though at some points there was a murmur from the place of Scyrr and Áforglaed.

"What was that about," muttered Scyrr just after emptying his mug and waving impatiently at the nearby maid to bring him another one. "What was that supposed to mean?"

"What was what supposed to mean?" asked Áforglaed, sitting next to him at the very end of the table, opposite to Hilderinc, but avoiding to meet his eye. Hilderinc had been strangely silent all the time since the sheep-pen incident, not that it was strange for Hilderinc to be silent, but this silence had some very cold and almost threatening air about it. After finishing the work, Hilderinc rushed away, and Áforglaed had not heard him uttering a single word after that. It was as if he had lost his ability to speak.

"I was thinking about what lord Athanar had just said," Scyrr continued in his thoughts. "How was it? 'As soon as he has regained his health, he will take back a - how was it - central role in Scarburg.' What in Béma's name is that supposed to mean, central role?"

"Central role is central role," shrugged Baldwic, on the opposite side of the table. "You heard it. He is to be made a counselor."

"Which is supposed to be what exactly?" Scyrr asked, hitting the table impatiently with his mug. "Yo! Woman! More ale!"

Baldwic rolled his eyes, but Áforglaed attempted to contribute to the conversation. "Well, I'd say he will be giving... counsel... to Athanar."

"Oh really!" roared Scyrr. "I wouldn't have thought of that! Where is that accursed woman? Pouring drinks to others and I am supposed to die here or... But anyway, that still does not explain the 'central role' to me. The way I hear it, Eodwine is NOW made a counselor... and after he gets better... then what?"

"Are you sure you aren't just putting too much into it..." Baldwic started, but Áforglaed jumped in.

"Yeah, right!" he said. "Isn't it what the stableboy had said in the morning?"

"What, that newt?" Scyrr finally gave up hitting the table with his mug.

"Oh yes!" Áforglaed popped his eyes. "He surely must have known! Once Eodwine gets better, he will become eorl again and Athanar will leave..."

"Now wait just a-"

"Outrageous!" yelled Scyrr. "Outrageous, I say! Eodwine plans to sack us?"

Baldwic interrupted him. "Now come on, he could not do that without Athanar agreeing on it..."

Scyrr eyed Baldwic. "Now are you telling me Athanar betrayed us?"

Áforglaed stared at him. "What?"

Baldwic shook his head, looking away from Scyrr. "I think he's just had too much to drink. See, he had been drinking even before the rest of you arrived here, I have seen him... Hilderinc," he turned to the soldier sitting at the end of the table. "Hilderinc, tell him something."

"He won't say anything, he has gone mute," Áforglaed whispered over the table. Hilderinc remained impassive.

"I am per-fectly fine," Scyrr roared, "or I would be, if it wasn't for some scheming-plotting strange stuff going on here..."

"Now will you calm down..." Baldwic started, but Scyrr rose.

"I am going to get me some more ale – and ask my hay-filling hay-filled little friend what he thinks about it," he nodded towards the other table. Before they could stop him, he rushed away.

"This is not going to end well," Baldwic predicted. "Let's fetch him back, before he starts a fight on Eodwine's welcome feast..."

"But what if Eodwine is really going to become an eorl? What is Athanar going to do? Are we going to return to Edoras? Or what?" Áforglaed asked nervously.

"I don't know, but I don't really believe it's going to happen," Baldwic said. "What do you say, Hild- now, where has he gone?"

The seat at the end of the table was empty.

***

As Scyrr slowly approached the table where Léof and others were sitting, he could catch the last of the stableboy's words.

"...They did not like it much when I told them this morning that I thought Athanar might leave when Eodwine came back."

"Thought that, did you?" he growled, closing up the space and stopping behind Léof. The stableboy turned, startled. "And what else did you think, or know, eh? What do you think now?"

[Firefoot]

"Thought that, did you?" came a voice from directly behind him. Léof jumped, then turned around to see Scyrr standing there. A hint of the anger that had consumed him earlier sparked at the edge of his mind as Scyrr continued: "And what else did you think, or know, eh? What do you think now?"

Thoughts flashed through Léof's mind: 'What else did he know?' What was that supposed to mean? Why had Scyrr come back to pick this fight with him? Nor did he like the situation; Scyrr was towering over him, and if he tried to get up quickly he knew that he would get tangled up in the bench.

But bolstered both by Thornden's advice to him earlier and by the friends that surrounded him, Léof had enough presence of mind to remain seated, though it was uncomfortable to look up at Scyrr that way, and to reply very evenly: “I think that Lord Athanar has just made it very clear that both he and Lord Eodwine will be staying here. What I do not know is why you seem to think I might have more knowledge than anyone else in this hall.”

[Folwren]

Quin glanced up towards the eorl’s table with some alarm, but as yet Scyrr’s loud and aggressive behavior had not been noticed. Why must something like this start now? He nearly stood up and steered Scyrr away, but Léof answered Scyrr’s rather enigmatic question almost at once.

“I think that Lord Athanar has just made it very clear that both he and Lord Eodwine will be staying here. What I do not know is why you seem to think I might have more knowledge than anyone else in this hall.”

Quin looked at Léof, surprised at his bold reply. He smiled, then, and turned his eye back to Scyrr, and the smile was wiped off his face. Scyrr did not like Léof’s reply, but Quin realized that Scyrr would not like anything Léof said that night. He was drunk. And worse than that, he was in a foul mood and unlikely to be gotten out of it. He stood up and walked about to Scyrr.

“Come on. You don’t want to start anything here, Scyrr,” he said, laying his hand on his arm. “Go outside, clear your head. You’ve been in your cups too long.”

[littlemanpoet]

Garreth watched the soldier, Scyrr, towering over Léof, hearing his wild talk, and scowled. When the man shook off Quin, he set his tankard down and half turned in his seat as if ready to get up and take matters into his own hands.

Harreld saw his brother's restive move and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Calm, Garreth," he said in his ear. "The man's had too much to drink. If all he has is words, there's been no call to act."

Garreth turned to his brother. "The moment he takes a swing at Léof or anyone else, I'm wrestling him down. You with me?"

Harreld hesitated, looking around. He noticed Coen standing against the wall, casting a watchful eye around the room, including Scyrr. "Wait and see." He nodded in Coen's direction.

"You wait and see. He's too far away. I'll keep this man from beating up our friend if nobody else will."

Harreld looked at his brother reproachfully. He'd come to Scarburg angry and stayed that way, had been spoiling for some kind of fight since the day he'd arrived. If Garreth got himself into a fight, Harreld knew that he would wrestle him out of it if he could. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. He was impressed that so far Garreth had kept his words to himself. That was something, but not much.

[Firefoot]

"Ask your wannabe friend what he would like to see us do," Scyrr growled at Quin. "He would love to see us gone! Yes, both me and you! He would be much happier back with just his old friends, isn't it so?"

Léof stared at Scyrr in distaste and irritation. He was sick of being hounded and picked on, and seeing Scyrr transfer the same sort of treatment to Quin just bothered him more. He stood up to show his support to Quin.

“Only half-right," said Léof. "You're the only one here I'd like to see gone. Leave us alone."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc was standing outside, under the bright stars of the chilly evening. He breathed in and out, savouring the crisp air. Gone was the damp smell of the moors, gone was the scent of the trees from the nearby woods he had been smelling on the first days after his arrival. The winter was coming mercilessly and its sharp sting of frost had dulled all the scents. Now any of the smells hardly stayed in the air, least of all by night when the world was asleep. Yet there was still some pleasant flavour in the air, one of the things Hilderinc had begun to like about Scarburg almost at the very beginning. Now at the threshold of winter, it was the almost painful, yet pleasant sharpness of the night breeze, the soft scent of smoke and wood, so unlike the smell of smoke and grass in the wild wind of Edoras, so unlike the smell of open fires in the camps of Wold, and so much unlike the smell of smoke, fire and steel so long ago, in the times of the Great War, which the wind had carried over the Isen.

Hilderinc stopped, gazing at the stars twinkling above the dark formless silhouette of the kitchen building. Only a small sliver of light was coming through a crack – perhaps a not throroughly closed window - otherwise, it was all dark.

Why did I once again think about the War, he wondered at the last flash of memory, peering into the distance as if he could find an answer there. As if today had tried to bring it back to me now.

Yet now and here, under the bright star-strewn sky of the last days of autumn, he felt as if he had nothing to fear for the moment. Perhaps there was something Elvish in that night with myriads of small shiny dots above him, but Hilderinc would not have thought of it like that. Any thought of accidentally opening something that he would have liked to remain forgotten deep in his mind was simply gone, as if he could be sure that the keys to his worst memories were safely out of his reach now. He could just think, freely think and ponder the strange events that had led him to become so fierce on that morning, when helping Crabannan, Nydfara and the others to build the sheep-pen.

He had already got past the initial puzzlement over his reactions. Now he was just embarassed, still embarassed with himself, but not because of what he had done, but because of feeling so embarassed in the first place, and because of having to spend so much time thinking about it.

It was not such a big deal, he thought again. Everybody can explode in anger at some point. The important thing is not to act like a kid all the time. And I didn't. I told Crabannan what I had been thinking. And that I still care? Isn't it good to know that I actually still care about some things? Isn't it good that I care about what people think?

He frowned slightly, trying to make his mind up.

It might be this situation which brings back so many memories, he thought suddenly and if that strange, Elvish-evening mood still had not been resting about him, he might have became worried. The two groups of men, the division within their ranks - the uncertainity, the mistrust in the powers and the justice of the lord... just like back then. It had not been in my power to stop people following what I had believed to be misguided notion... I had not been in any position to do that... yet what is my position now?

He looked down and kicked a single small rock with the tip of his boot. It flew several feet and dully thudded into the shutter of the kitchen's window. Hilderinc straightened himself.

I serve Athanar, he told to himself. That is what I am now, and I should serve him. But is it not, after all, the very thing I have been trying to do since my first day here, even though I have not been consciously aware of it - to bring these two groups to reconciliation? Is this not the smallest thing I can do, here and now, to make all these rows between 'old' and 'new' Scarburgians stop?

Everything seemed calm and he felt he cold night air on his face. He stood outside the kitchen, in silence, thinking.

***

Scyrr clenched his fists as Léof had told him so boldly to leave, and it would have sufficed just a little and he might have struck him. But somehow, suddenly, as if some realisation came to him, he paused in thought.

"I am the only one you want to see gone?" he repeated, eyeing all the men at the table. "Really, are you?" Suddenly his face twisted into a triumphant smile. "Tell me, then, what about lord Athanar? Do you want him gone, too? Is it not that you want to see me and him gone, huh? You see," and he leaned closer to Léof, almost as if he was talking to a close friend, yet his face had an unmistakeable menacing look, "I think I've heard you wishing something like that in the morning, boy! Ha!" He roared triumphantly and stood up straight again, as much as his condition had allowed him to.

"And wanting him gone means wanting us all gone, just so that you know," he added matter-of-factly, raising his eyebrows and pointing at Quin. "So don't you go tell-tales on us, kid!"

[Folwren]

Saeryn

She had expected grand talk and a speech given and she sat with a polite but distant look on her face as Athanar gave it. Her eyes idly ran over the gathered faces looking up at Athanar as he spoke of their joy at Eodwine's return. She rested her cheek on her hand just an instant and then lifted her head again. She wondered exactly how joyous Athanar was at Eodwine's return. She thought of what she had said to Athanar of her intention to set Eodwine back in the place of eorl. He still had not mentioned it and nothing in his look or manner indicated that he felt threatened or concerned with her ultimatum. She glanced at Athanar.

“Today we celebrate his return with a feast held in his honor. Three cheers for Eodwine, Counselor to the Eorl of Scarburg!”

Saeryn stiffened without meaning to. Her face froze in an icy expression and she did not cheer with the rest. She carefully schooled her face to take on a neutral look. Conflict must be avoided this evening at all cost, she knew, and by the time Eodwine looked at her after Athanar had ceased speaking, he saw her calm and collected, but the look was entirely insincere.

Counselor indeed. To the Eorl of Scarburg. Might he have made the distinction any more clear? Eodwine should be the one who was eorl! She bit her lip and turned the cup in her hand. Don't think thus, she said to herself. Eodwine wills not to be eorl. You must be content with whatever position Athanar gives him. Counselor is an honor.

Yes, supposing he takes any counsel. Even Thornden could not talk any good sense into him, as you well know. She drank deeply of the mead and set the cup down again. Counselor, she repeated silently. Counselor. Counselor for what? How to run this place? Ha, he already has his own ideas. She fingered her knife and fork and stared out as she thought. Her eyes rested on the layman's table and she witnessed in silence the end of the quarrel between Leof, Quin, and Scyrr. Counselor about how to keep his men under control? Her fingers curled suddenly she gripped the utensils tightly. It was all so unfair. She couldn't forget, she wouldn't forget, how Athanar had come and replaced Eodwine in such a brazen, unfeeling way, his first night occupying Eodwine's hall and putting Eodwine's men to shame, and now his men were abusing Leof, unnoticed, unchallenged – except just now, of course, Coenred had interfered. But there was no disgrace, no punishment. He led him back to the table and then Scyrr went outside, and that was probably all.

Saeryn wouldn't stand for it. Disrespect towards Leof had not gone unnoticed by Saeryn. She had kept watch over her people as well as she knew how during Eodwine's absence, and she knew how the men from Edoras treated him, as well as some of the other people. It had troubled her greatly, but until now she had no thought about how to stop their rudeness and disrespect. But now she knew what she could say, and she had an opportunity to say it, having just watched what passed.

She stood and turned away from the table without consulting Eodwine. She passed along the edge of the hall and thence to the door where Scyrr had disappeared outside. She went out, too, and called into the darkness.

“Scyrr!”

The soldier had not gotten far. He turned and came toward her. “What?” he asked in a surly voice.

“Just now, in the hall, you were on the verge of attacking Leof. I saw you. Now, I've seen and heard of your savage attack on people before. You goaded Erbrand into the fight just after coming here. That's not acceptable, do you hear? You'll leave Leof alone from now on, do you understand me?”

“Just like the coward,” Scyrr growled. “Sending a woman out to do the fighting for him.”

“I am not Leof's messenger, I am lady Saeryn, Eodwine's wife. I came out myself. I don't like you bullying my men, and I have had enough, and you'll mind how you talk and act from this day forward.”

Scyrr leaned towards her. She smelled the mead on his breath. “I don't take orders from a woman,” he said. “And certainly not one married to a sick man who vies for Lord Athanar's place like a dog trying to take his master's chair.”

Saeryn swung as hard as she could and struck Scyrr across the face. “Dog!” she said, furious. “You do not know of whom it is you speak!”

[Firefoot]

Aldric had continued his conversation with the others seated nearby, for which Scyld was grateful. It left him free to pay attention to what everyone else in the hall was doing. (It was probably good for Aldric, too, since just about anyone else would be a more sympathetic listener than Scyld.)

When Athanar stood up to speak, Scyld paid less attention to the speech than he did to the reactions of the listeners. He did not expect any great surprises from Athanar; the grandiose and impassioned speeches had long since lost their novelty, and they all spun variations on the same theme: unity in the hall. Scyld probably could have given the speech himself; he thought he had Athanar at least that well figured out.

There were a lot of surprised looks when Athanar named Eodwine his counselor, but Scyld's was not among them. Of course Athanar would have to give Eodwine some kind of honored position, or he would risk alienating Eodwine's former household. He caught the soldiers exchanging worried or upset looks. Eodwine's expression was polite but passive. Of everyone in the hall, he was the one who seemed least disturbed by his own absence and return. His wife, on the other hand... her face now was carefully schooled, but Scyld had not missed how she had stiffened in her seat, and how she did not cheer along with the rest of the hall. Had he not been watching for it, he would have missed it, but it seemed that Aldric's gossip was good: Saeryn was not pleased with matters as they stood.

He was distracted from the head table by the kerfuffle unfolding between Scyrr, Léof, and Quin. It did not come to blows, however, which made the encounter hardly out of the ordinary. He wondered briefly how Scyrr had managed to keep his position with Athanar; the man seemed far more trouble than he was worth.

Then something interesting did happen. Saeryn rose from her table and stalked out of the hall after Scyrr. Under the guise of getting up for more mead (for Rowenna, unsurprisingly, had not come anywhere near his table and his mug had thus gone without refill), he passed close enough to the hall door to hear a snatch of their conversation:

“I am not Leof's messenger, I am lady Saeryn, Eodwine's wife. I came out myself. I don't like you bullying my men, and I have had enough, and you'll mind how you talk and act from this day forward.”

“I don't take orders from a woman. And certainly not one married to a sick man who vies for Lord Athanar's place like a dog trying to take his master's chair.”

Well. That was gutsy of her, to defend young Léof. On the other hand, it was hardly her place to discipline Athanar's riders, and Scyld suspected that it would not make the situation better for anyone involved. Perhaps Aldric was not all wrong. Maybe Eodwine did need to take a firmer hand with her. To each his own, he supposed. And now to refill his tankard.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Saeryn swung as hard as she could and struck Scyrr across the face. "Dog!" she said, furious. "You do not know of whom it is you speak!"

Scyrr paused for a while, watching Saeryn as if surprised by what she just did. Then he chuckled.

"Ha!" he said. "Don't I? Is he the man who sends a woman to fight for him, then?"

He leaned closer towards her, so close that she could feel his alcohol-smelling breath.

"I don't care what he used to be. He is just another man in the Hall now. Why did he come back? He is and he will never be the eorl again."

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine

Saeryn got up and did not say a word, not even to excuse herself. That was not quite right. But then, this was an odd situation. She was probably just taking care of nature's course. What was that row going on by Léof? Who was that drunkard? Eodwine figured that he would find out soon enough. He felt weary.

Now why was Saeryn going out that way? The latrines were the other direction. Eodwine shrugged. Leave well enough alone, she'll be fine, he told himself.

Harreld & Garreth

"Lucky for that Scyrr that Coenred took a hand," Garreth mumbled to Harreld. Harreld just rolled his eyes.

“Well,” said Léof, “I guess that Scyrr pretty well just proved my point... looks like the riders still aren't too happy with me.” He paused. "Or you either, now," he said to Quin. "I hope they won't cause trouble for you."

"You shouldn't take that kind of talk from them," said Crabannan. "It gives them ideas, and that lot already think they're above the rest of us."

"What's all this bother about them or us?" asked Garreth. "The sooner every man gets over it, the better off we'll be. Now, the real 'them' to watch out for is those women!" He nodded meaningfully toward the kitchens. "Don't trust a one of 'em, I say."

"Garreth," said Harreld, "shut up. You're as bad as Scyrr in your own way."

Falco

Big People just seemed not to notice him, including this here Nydfara. Of course, the man was clearly distracted by what they both had heard just outside.

"Dropping eaves, are you, Nydfara?" he said.

The Man looked down suddenly, noticing him for the first time.

"Maybe you and I might lend the Lady Saeryn a hand if trouble starts, if you take my meaning."

[Folwren]

Saeryn trembled with contained wrath. Her hands clenched into fists by her side, but she did not strike again. For a time, she had come to peace that Eodwine would never be eorl again, but to hear it told her like this, from a drunken rider, caused the blood to boil in her veins again. At the same time, she realized she could do nothing about it. A sense of total insignificance and weakness overwhelmed her. She had expected Scyrr to be abashed, apologetic, when she confronted him. Instead he ridiculed her and her husband. She was forced to realize that not only was Eodwine no longer eorl, but she no longer had the status of an eorl’s wife.

“Lord Eodwine chooses not to regain his position as eorl,” she said, her voice low and quivering. “That is why he will never be eorl again. And he is not weak because of it,” she added sharply when she realized that perhaps that would be another dart for the man to use against her and Eodwine. “If you do not begin to show Eodwine the respect he deserves, and if you do not take my warning about your treatment of Léof to heart, I will not hesitate to let Athanar know.”

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

After hearing Athanar's name, Scyrr paused once again, but only for a short moment. He could see that the woman was taken aback at his last words. She was losing this word-fight - no, he corrected himself, she had already lost, and she knew it.

"Don't you dare to thrat-threaten me with reporting to my lord Athanar," he said in what would have been a confident tone if his tongue had obeyed him completely. "As if he were gonna listen to your whining. I've been in his service since I have I came of age, and even before, I've seen-been seen-seeing him since my childhood. My old father was, and still is, one of his good friends. They are Riders. Lord Athanar values this, you know."

Inside his head, Scyrr was starting to get more and more the feeling that he was having the higher ground. He felt that he should just keep talking and crush this woman with the weight of his words.

"And your Eodwine is not weak because of what you said, no. If it was even true anyway that he don't want to be eorl," he said. "Which it is not. He is weak because he sends his woman to talk and cannot stand up for himself. If that's what you want to hear!" he growled and waved his hand, as if Saeryn was an annoying fly he wanted to chase away.

[Gwathagor]

"Now the real 'them' to watch out for is those women," said Garreth, "Don't trust a one of 'em, I say."

Crabannan had his eyes on the main doors, through which Saeryn had disappeared some moments earlier with a grim expression on her face and a firmness in her step. Crabannan had learned to fear that expression and that tread decades ago, for he found that they were common to all women. Usually, they meant trouble.

"Garreth, shut up. You're as bad as Scyrr in your own way," replied Harreld.

Crabannan glanced down at Harreld and Garreth, in part feeling the rebuke in himself. He had not met Garreth, but he had heard Harreld had a brother, and if this man was not he, then no man was. They were clearly cut from the same cloth...in frame at least.

"I don't know, Harreld -- it sounds like he's speaking from experience."

But his mind was in the conversation. It was on Saeryn. What was going on out there? He had half a mind to step out and see. And, after all, it was warm in here and he could use a breath of fresh air. He wouldn't get involved, just pass by, take a look.

[littlemanpoet]

"This woman – she –" the unnamed man began, then started looking around, confused, until his eyes landed on Eodwine. "There!" He pointed. "This man sent his woman after me – yes! Don't you go sending your woman after me! If you have anything to tell me, come and face me like a man!"

'Horn of Helm!' thought Eodwine. What was this idiocy, and how had Saeryn gotten mixed up in it? Surely the fool had said other than what she had hoped or expected! No, she hadn't. He wagered that she had not thought this through at all, whatever she had done to rile him up.

All eyes were on him. He thought fast, allowing time to stretch, painfully, and did not allow his ire to show on his face. Were he well and not the eorl's counselor, he would teach this fool a lesson with a naked blade. He felt very, very weak.

How to respond? Don't embarrass Saeryn further than she'd already done to herself. Don't demean Athanar or himself. Treat this drunken fool better but no more seriously than he deserved. Ah, that was it. A slow smile came to his face, and he rose from his seat.

"It seems," he grinned, pitching his voice to the crowd, "one of our riders has been a little friendly with his mead cup."

Some of the crowd laughed, albeit nervously. Silence quickly resumed. One would have been able to hear a piece of dust hit the floor.

With a half smile he continued. "And my wife has been zealous for the honor of her husband's name. Can a man ask for more than that?" He grinned broadly.

"Of course he can," one man cried, "an' that bump on her belly says you already have!"

Now the men roared with laughter and Eodwine allowed himself a public chuckle. Once the laughter died down, Eodwine spoke again, looking directly at the man, with a broad smile on his face, but his eyes were hard.

"Rider, I don't know who you are, so I could not have sic'd my wife on you had I wanted to. I'll excuse your words tonight since you're drenched in drink." Then he looked at Saeryn. "Wife of mine, I desire your company here with me. Come stand with me, Lady Saeryn, and see what a fine folk have made Scarburg their home!" He raised his mead cup as Saeryn left the man and came to the table, for how could she refuse in front of the assembly? He knew she had enough sense to follow his lead in this. He gazed out over the crowd. Soon she stood beside him.

"Raise your cup, my dear." She did, and he turned to the folk. "A toast!" He waited for the folk to raise their cups. "To the folk of Scarburg!" He put the cup to his lips and drank.

[Folwren]

Saeryn had not won. There would be no way to win in the situation that she and Scyrr had placed themselves in. She went and stood by Eodwine’s side, but she neither saw the fine folk of Scarburg nor tasted the fine mead that had been made there. She sat down when the toast ended and looked down. She wished she could disappear, but she did not feel at liberty to stand and leave the head table again. Instead, she rested her forehead in one hand, acting as though she were tired and needed to rest her eyes. In reality, it was a ruse to hide her face from the view of everyone, thus concealing her shame.

As the moments passed, the blood in her veins cooled and her mind harped back to the argument. Her face burned with the thought of her rashness, and then her jaw clenched at the remembrance of his words. How had he managed to provoke her with mere words? She had acted like a child taunted by a large boy, and although she knew his words were false, she had struck out and reacted as though they were true, or as though they could harm her or Eodwine. Of course, now when the heat of the moment had passed, she saw that her actions had the potential of shaming him worse than anything Scyrr had said to her out in the courtyard. She had been unable to bear his taunting in private and so she had brought it out to the open.

She was going to cry, she could feel it. Her hands trembled and her throat was swollen shut with emotion. She reached out and touched Eodwine’s hand. Briefly, she looked at his face when he turned to her, but she did not meet his eye.

“Have I your leave to go to our chamber? I am weary of this gathering.”

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Scyrr stood, wordless, still at the same place when the rest of the Hall had raised their cups to the toast. He was completely taken aback by what had just happened. In the flash of a moment, everyone's interest in him suddenly ceased, nobody was watching him anymore. Even Athanar's men at the other table cheered merrily upon Eodwine's proposal.

"He may not be such a bad chap, after all, that Eodwine," Áforglaed evaluated, turning the empty cup in his hand. "Pretty funny, he is, I think. I thought he would be just some annoying old dotard."

"He's not even that old," Baldwic said.

"I know," Áforglaed replied. "But I mean - you know what I mean."

"No," said Baldwic. He cast a quick look over his shoulder. "But hey, look, I think we might want to take Scyrr back here. Or maybe to sleep, that might be safer. Look at him standing there."

"What?" said Áforglaed, distractedly, since he had been just getting his cup refilled, but Baldwic was already gone.

"Come, Scyrr," he approached the now gloomy-looking Rider, standing still on his unsteady feet near the entrance. "Let's go..."

Scyrr looked at him, frowning, but did not say anything. Baldwic took him by his shoulder and led him away.

[Folwren]

One of the musicians raised his pipe to his lips and burst forth in a merry tune. The others almost immediately picked up on it, setting off at an admirable pace, playing the familiar dance tune brightly and invitingly.

Those they played for did not ignore their invitation. Stigend took Modtryth’s hand and led her out while at the same time Garstan came, swinging Lèoðern about in the air. Before they could join hands in a circle, more couples had arrived: Kara with one of the riders named Aiden, Lilige and Fearghall, Ӕðel and Readwald, and even Frodides with a brave rider who ventured to ask her to dance with him. Rowenna and Ginna were the only two women who stood amongst the men who were not dancing.

Thornden set down a bench he and another had carried out of the way and then set about to ask Rowenna to dance. On the way, he clapped Harreld on the shoulder as he passed, saying, “You should ask Ginna, you know, before some other fellow snatches her and you’re left wishing you were he.” He didn’t wait for a response, but made as straight a line as could be contrived to Rowenna’s side.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna watched the dancing begin. It seemed there were more women in Scarburg than before she had left last time. Where did they all come from, she wondered? For all that, there were not nearly enough women for all the men in the burg.

The piper played a merry tune and the other players picked it up. Rowenna let her head follow the beat, and her feet as well, though she remained standing where she was.

Thornden approached, and he was looking directly at her as he came. She allowed one brow to rise, and a smile slipped onto one side of her mouth as he stopped by her side.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked.

She smiled full. "Of course!" She placed her hand in his and they took a few steps into the open area. She let him start them off on the downbeat, and quickly they were dancing with the rest of them.

Rowenna loved dancing, and she found that she liked dancing with Thornden. He had good rhythm, and he was confident. And he had a nice smile.

"You're good at this!" she said.

[Folwren]

Rowenna followed his lead as admirably as he could wish for.

“You’re good at this!” Rowenna said.

“Only as good as my partner,” he responded. They turned to face out of the large ring of dancers, stepped out with the rest and then fell back. The partners faced and turned, passed each other by the shoulders and then came back.

When their brief separation was over and Thornden had Rowenna’s hands in his again, he commented, “I didn’t know you could dance when I asked you. I’m glad to find you can. You must’ve learned when you were young, as I did.” They turned away from each other and then came spinning back. “Family gatherings and harvest celebrations – that’s when we danced. How ‘bout you?”

[littlemanpoet]

Thornden clapped Harreld on the shoulder as he passed, saying, “You should ask Ginna, you know, before some other fellow snatches her and you’re left wishing you were he.”

Harreld sighed and stood with his back to the wall. He saw Ginna across the room. No man asked her to dance. It was not surprising since they all knew that he had claim to her, or at least had at one time. He had said very little to anyone about Ginna, and she no doubt had kept quiet about him. All any other folk at Scarburg would know was that the two did not spend much time together. Perhaps they wondered why, but no one asked.

Harreld wished that he could ask Ginna to dance. After the way he had treated her, he felt that he did not deserve to. At least, not until they talked. He had not had a chance to talk to her this day of so much happening surrounding Eiodwine's return.

But the greatest thing surrounding the former eorl's return for Harreld had been their talk. Harreld rehearsed it in his mind as he started walking over the the living quarters.

Eodwine had wanted to know why Harreld felt that he could not take Ginna to wife, and he had explained, marshaling all his Eorling wisdom. Eodwine had been unimpressed. Maybe a father was a daughter's lord by Eorling ways, but Eorling ways were not the last word on who should wed whom, he had said.

"What is?" Harreld had asked, feeling very much out of his depth.

"The eorl of oafs, of course," Eodwine had grinned, but after his joke he had said something that had stuck with Harreld. Sometimes, Eodwine had said, a thing is meant to be against all odds and against all seeming wisdom. How was one to know? One could not ask for another's wisdom. One must weigh one's own heart. Even with this much, Harreld had held himself skeptical, for it sounded like something out of a Gondorian love geste; he had not heard or read any himself, but had heard of the strange things. "What weighs in the balance, Harreld, is whether your heart tells you to take, or to give. What does your heart tell you about Ginna?"

"Did the law of the Eorlings allow, I would give her anything she asked for, wise or foolish. I cannot help it."

Eodwine had smiled. "There you have it. You are meant for each other."

"Are you sure?" he had asked.

"Sure as I am still alive."

Harreld stopped at the door to the women's quarters. How had he known that Ginna would come this way? He hardly knew. It did not matter. As she approached, looking dismally at the floor, she saw his feet and stopped. She looked up at him, her expression sad but questioning.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

[littlemanpoet]

"If I said that you could trust me, would you believe me? For if I was untrustworthy and wished to take you in, would I not still say yes?"

She watched his eyes for a moment before they separated. It had been a confusing thing he had said. Was that on purpose? Of course, it was: this was Nydfara. She puzzled over it as they danced the arc, and still more as they mirrored opposite each other. It was only just before they linked again that her mind grabbed hold of the key to his words - would I not still say yes? So he was saying 'yes', but in a way that cautioned her. Why the cautioning? That must remain a mystery for now. The song was ending.

"I suppose I shall have to be satisfied with that for now," she replied. They walked side by side to the edge of the dance floor.

Eodwine had come back with his harp and joined the players. They called for a solo.

"My fingers are not so nimble," he demurred, but they insisted. "A slow one, then."

He began a tune they all knew. It was slow but full in plucked harmony. It was a song of sorrow, much lost and little gained. She knew that its ending held a mix of bittersweetness and hope.

She did not know what to think of Nydfara. She was intrigued. There was a hardness to him, and a mystery. She stole a glance at his eyes. Did she detect sorrow in them? She was not sure. He glanced at her and she looked away quickly, realizing perhaps too late that she had allowed a wish to show on her face. She folded her hands in front of her and looked at the floor until the song ended.

[Folwren]

Quin and Léof sat side by side, leaning back against a table while they watched the dancing and commented on what transpired. They critiqued various men’s dancing skills, praised how well the women danced, and remarked upon Frodides' ability and lightness of step. And of course they noted and discussed in depth Aldric’s interruption of Rowenna’s and Thornden’s dance and what followed. Their eyes trailed after Rowenna and Nydfara during the reel.

“They make a good pair, don’t you think?” Quin said towards the end of the dance. He watched while they walked from the floor together, and then stood side by side while Eodwine played his harp. His eyes lingered on the two of them, scarcely listening to the song Eodwine played. He did not care that Léof could easily see where he was looking, and when Eodwine finished, and people had applauded quietly for the song, he drew a sigh and said,

“I wish she’d ask me to dance, like she did Nydfara, ‘cause I’m not going to ask her.”

[Durelin]

Coen hated these formal occasions, and this one would be more uncomfortable than usual. He found himself remembering the fateful feast on the day of their arrival. Hopefully with Lithor and Erbrand gone there would be no more debacles. Coen knew he should be there to help keep his men in line, but he had an excuse for being late. And later his presence would matter more, once everyone had gotten into the drinking.

He left the stables and headed into the hall, slipping quietly toward the soldiers’ table. But on his way he caught Scyrr standing over another table, his face flushed and his eyes flashing. His anger seemed to be directed at one of the young stable hands. Coen was ready to go immediately to him and drag him back to the rest of the men, but he saw Quin had a steadying hand on his arm. Perhaps the younger man would talk him down and there was no need to embarrass Scyrr by stepping in and ordering him back to the soldiers’ table.

Coen went to the nearest wall and stood, trying to stay out of the way of servants. He watched Scyrr and Quin closely, occasionally letting his eyes wander around the hall, including to the eorl’s table, to see if anyone else had noticed the possibility of trouble. His eye’s passed over Lord Eodwine with a spark of annoyance, then rested on the Lady Saeryn for a brief moment before he looked away. And what did she think, now that her husband was back? She had been demanding from the start, even when it seemed her husband was dying.

He turned his attention back to Scyrr and Quin. He could only concern himself with what was among his duties.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Scyrr turned his eyes to Quin standing next to him. It seemed to take him a few heartbeats to fix his eyes upon the young soldier.

"Leave me be!" he shook Quin's hand off. "I don't need to calm down! But you are not doing well in making friends with this witty fellow, no, not at all!"

Quin cast a quick look at Léof and opened his mouth, but Scyrr continued.

"Ask your wannabe friend what he would like to see us do," he growled. "He would love to see us gone! Yes, both me and you! He would be much happier back with just his old friends, isn't it so?"

He eyed the other men at the table with his slightly drunk stare; in his state, the thought of being afraid of them had not even crossed his mind.

***

"I wonder if we should not go after him," Baldwic said, looking over his shoulder.

"I don't think Scyrr needs any help," Áforglaed said. Scyrr had always been his friend and Áforglaed had in many ways looked up to him. And he was sure that if it came down to any trouble, even a fight, Scyrr would be able to handle it.

Baldwic shook his head, thinking of a different kind of trouble than Áforglaed had in mind. "I don't think Quin can handle him alone. And I think he might get himself into trouble. See, the Captain is looking. Over there." He nodded towards the wall Coenred was leaning against.

Áforglaed followed his gaze. Suddenly, he felt unsure what to do.

"The Captain will be angry if there is trouble..."

"You can bet he will," Baldwic said.

"Where is that silent man when we need him?" Áforglaed tapped the edge of the table nervously. "He had been always good in telling people off and stopping fights..."

"Some brave soldier you are," Baldwic looked at him. "Scyrr is your best mate. Why don't you want to go and stop him from doing anything silly before Captain does?"

Áforglaed remained silent. Baldwic turned his head again.

"We can wait and see if anything happens," he said. "But if it does, I think it will be best to be ready to jump up and get Scyrr before half of the Hall is upon him."

[Firefoot]

Léof hesitated to respond to Garreth's remark. He had always respected Saeryn, but he agreed she shouldn't have dragged Scyrr in here. But she'd been through a lot lately, so he couldn't come down so hard on her as Garreth had.

“She definitely could have handled that better,” Léof agreed. “She should've just told Eodwine about it or something... but I'm not sure they're getting on all right. Do you know, earlier I walked into the hall straight into the middle of them fighting? I don't know what about – they left pretty quick.”

[Folwren]

Quin’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “Fighting?” he repeated, leaning inward. Léof nodded. Quin made a silent whistle and relapsed momentarily into silence. In his mind, he recalled comments the men had been making all morning, ever since Saeryn had first shown spirit since Eodwine’s return. That would be as soon as Eodwine arrived, Quin reflected.

“Some of the men have said something that I find rather doubtful,” Quin said slowly. He leaned forward on his elbows and shared a glance amongst Léof, Garreth, and Harreld. “Garreth, since you seem to have had some experience with women, maybe you’ll be able to explain. I’ve heard at least two of the men say that Eodwine should, how did they put it. . .take a stronger hand with his wife? Control her, I guess, but how do they expect him to do that? I mean, really, I’d be afraid to scrap with her after what I’ve just seen, and if your stories of how awful women can be are true…well, then…” he trailed off noncommittally, clearly confused about the relation between a woman and her husband.

Garreth was unused to being asked to speak as an expert, least of all on the subject of women. He cleared his throat in a show of gravitas. "Well." He had no idea what to say, but that had never stopped him before. "A woman should know her place. A man knows better, about everything that matters. Money. War. Trade. It's just the way things are. But women, they let their feelings rule them." He stopped, feeling like he had said everything that needed to be said.

Quin contemplated Garreth a moment, mulling over his answer before speaking. "What about food?" he asked. "Seems that's one thing of importance that women know more about. And what about the Lady Eowyn? She knew of warfare as well as the next man, if the tales I hear are true. Saeryn reminds me of what I heard of Eowyn. Maybe she's like her. And if she is like Eowyn, how do you and others expect someone like Eodwine, sick as he is, and mild, by all accounts, to 'teach her her place' when the king's command couldn't keep Eowyn home from battle?"

"Well! Ahem. The Lady Eowyn was young and unwise! She was very lucky to escape alive! Food and drink and household chores are where women belong. it's a man's job to make sure they see that."

"Lady Eowyn stood where no man was brave enough to stand and slay the fell beast and its rider," Quin said with some heat. "If you think she'd better have stayed home and seen to her house work, perhaps it's time you re-thought!"

"Um - er - well - she is of the king's house. Maybe things are different for such folk."

Quin sniffed and drew back, allowing the conversation to close. He was not impressed by Garreth. Harreld was a good man, quiet and sober, but Garreth was loud and rough and frequently out of sorts, and this last word against Eowyn annoyed Quin. Eowyn was still highly spoken of in Rohan by most people, men and women alike. It was well known how she had stood by King Theoden when all the others of his household had fled or had been slain. Her deeds were put into song and the songs sung far and wide, and no one, so far as he had ever heard, spoke ill of her.

He did not know quite how Eowyn had been brought into their conversation of Saeryn, but perhaps, if Saeryn was much like Eowyn, maybe she was alright, after all.

[littlemanpoet]

At last dinner was over. Eodwine offered to help with the dishes but was roundly rebuked, told that he was the honored one and it would not do for him to do dishes on such a night. Stigend and Garstan offered to replace him, and a few other men also volunteered, which helped the cooks and serving women to make much quicker work of the clean up than they had anticipated. While they helped in the kitchen, most of the men (who could still stand) moved tables and chairs out of the way.

They came out of the kitchens after a reasonably short while, the women smiling brightly. The minstrels among the folk pealed away from the others, produced lutes, harps, hand-drums, and pipes.

Watching, Eodwine turned to Saeryn. "I think I'd like to get my harp."

[Firefoot]

Eventually the talk turned to subjects less contentious and lighter-hearted, and Léof began again to simply enjoy the banter of friends and the good food. Soon he found himself sitting with an empty plate and a full belly, and all around folk began to break out their instruments. It had been far too long since music and laughter filled the hall.

Léof groaned and said with a laugh, “I am far too stuffed for dancing!”

~*~*~*~
Scyld

Following the incident with Saeryn and Scyrr, Scyld faded back into the background of the hall. He got his tankard refilled, as he originally planned on doing, and took his time making his way back to his seat. He paused at several of the tables to listen to what others were talking about and to chip in with a couple of harmless comments.

He finally sat back down shortly before the music started up. Aldric glanced at him. “You've nearly missed the whole meal,” he said.

Scyld shrugged. “It only takes a little bit from every table and it's as if I sat down for the whole meal here,” he said.

Aldric grunted. “If you are so full, then it is your turn to talk to the wench.”

Scyld was surprised Aldric recalled their earlier conversation so well. He suspected that Aldric was simply eager to see Rowenna turn him down. He said, “But right now the fitting reason to approach a woman would be to ask her to dance, which I have little skill at.” It was not untrue. Under Sorn, Scyld had been afforded little reason or opportunity to learn or practice dancing. However, he was keen enough to have picked up the basics, and he knew that most dances did not require much more than that.

Aldric grunted again, but Scyld was spared further conversation when another soldier turned to Aldric with a question. Scyld turned his gaze back to the larger hall to watch.