Scarburg Meadhall

[Folwren]

Saeryn looked on curiously as Ledwyn snatched her son out of danger and scolded him mildly. She reflected that soon she would be having the same cares as this woman had. And the same fears. She smiled as Ledwyn took the boy away and then stood up and picked up the trenchers from the breakfast.

"You were about to ask about the kitchen?" she said. "Come, I will show you." She led the way down the corridor a few steps to the door of the kitchen and went in ahead of her. "Kara, Frodides, and Ginna," she announced. "This is Ledwyn, and she's going to stay with us. This is her son, Theolain."

[Galadriel55]

Ledwyn inclined her head to each of the women in turn, exchanging some words with each. Work was soon found for her, and, sitting Theolain down in a corner, she got about to doing it.

Theolain did not like sitting in the corner. He did not like sitting at all, unless it was when someone told him stories. He watched Mother and the other women run about, cutting, boiling, frying, cooking, baking, washing, and doing all the other chores around the kitchen. But Theolain got tired of them soon, and seeing that Mother was concentrated on the food and more talking he stood up and went to explore the world behind the kitchen door.

Men were sitting around tables, eating. They all eat too much. Theolain did not need to eat this much, or this long. Was eating the only thing they do at this place? Eating, cutting, baking, frying, and eating?

But they also have a red stick.

It was still beside the hearth, where he had first seen it, though it did not glow as brightly. He came to it, tripping over his legs twice in his haste. No one wanted to stop him. Why didn’t Mother let him take it? The stick is not in the fire. He kneeled before it on hands and knees.

Slowly but surely, savouring the moment – sweet as fulfilled curiosity was, it was made sweeter by the knowledge that if Mother had been there she would never have let him get so near to the forbidden stick – he brought his face closer to it, examining how the light shifted slightly whenever he breathed. Eyes shining, he muttered something inaudible in his own language, as if talking to this strange stick that responded to his words with a renewed redness. Finally, he lifted his hand and took hold of the living creature inside the stick . . .

. . . and immediately jerked it back, as pain shot through his fingers. This is not fair! Why did the stick bite? Sticks do not hurt Theolain. Fire hurts, but fire is in the fireplace. Fire does not live in sticks; the sticks live in the fire, and the fire lives in the fireplace! This was a trick! The stick tricked him! This is not fair!

Theolain loudly let the world know about his distress. Angry and indignant at the red stick, he took it and threw it at the wall. He wailed again as the red creature bit his hand once more.

[Firefoot]

Léof nodded, not looking the Elf in the face. The intensity of Laerdil’s gaze and the depth in his eyes was… not frightening, exactly. Awe-inspiring, in a way. Thinking back on it later, Léof would find that he had no word to describe the emotion the Elf evoked in him. But just now, Léof found it easier to think without making eye contact. “Yes, some,” he said, thinking of his sister Cerwyn, and Quin, and to slightly lesser degrees Eodwine and Thornden.

His train of thought was cut off by a sudden loud wail just behind him. Léof jumped with a shout, startled nearly out of his wits. He turned in time to see an unfamiliar young boy pick up a red-hot stick and hurl it with all the might in his small arm against the wall.

Léof hastened to the screaming boy’s side and knelt beside him, drawing him close with one arm and using his other hand to turn the boy’s burned hand palm up. Sure enough, the entire hand was already bright red.

“Someone bring a pail of cold water!” he said.

[Galadriel55]

Theolain let the strange man look at his hand. As long as he was not touching his head, he was allowed. Theolain’s palm became redder by the second. The creature that lived in the stick somehow entered his hand.

It hurt when the creature entered, just like fire hurt. He watched the redness spread and darken. What if the creature will make him red head to toe? Theolain waved his hand to shake the creature off, but that only made it more painful.

He tried to tell the man about the treacherous red stick. He pointed at it and showed exactly what it did. Then he said a word, one of the few words that big people seemed to understand. “Why?”

[Firefoot]

Léof was amazed by how calm the boy was being, trying to show him what had happened. Léof couldn’t tell if the boy’s lack of words was because the boy was too young to talk much or if it was because he was in distress – he hadn’t spent that much time around small children. Even so, he found himself anxiously looking around for someone who actually knew about children to come and take the boy off his hands. He had reacted instinctively, but didn’t know what to do next.

“Why?” whimpered the boy.

“Well,” said Léof, hoping that talking would keep the boy from beginning to bawl, “fire makes the things it burns very hot, and when you touch hot things they burn you.” He didn’t know if the boy would understand this explanation or not, but fortunately just then someone ran up with a water pail.

“Thanks,” he said, paying no attention to who it was. He touched the water to make sure it wasn’t freezing. “Now,” he said to the boy, “you need to put your hand in the cold water, alright?”

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine came back from the kitchen with a wooden cup of mead. He sat down by Laerdil.

"Here is drink that is maybe worthy of an Elf. At least, we Eorlingas think it most worthy."

"My thanks."

Laerdil raised it to his nose and sniffed it first. His brow rose a moment, then he sipped. "It is good," he said, then put it down and plucked at his harp.

It was clear to Eodwine that Laerdil was not overly impressed. Not that it mattered.

Just then he caught out of the corner of his eye someone coming into the hall. Scyrr. An ill feeling came into Eodwine's belly. He would have to deal with this, and soon, like it or not. Best get it done. He waited for Scyrr to be seated, and stood across from him.

"Scyrr."

The man's frown deepened upon hearing his name. He wanted at this moment to be left alone so that he could fill his empty stomach and drink some water, and try to relieve the aching in his head. He looked up sullenly and his mood did not improve when he saw that it was Eodwine.

"What?" he asked.

"You insulted my wife and me last night. You are in my debt. Will you make amends willingly?"

"I may have said some hasty words, but it was the mead speaking, not me. And it was your wife who wronged me, sir, and she ought to say sorry to me."

This could make things more complicated, but it was one of the most classic tricks known to man - shifting blame. Eodwine allowed a hint of a smirk.

"That is another matter. We are sticking to this point for now. You own your own words, man, overflowing with mead or not. Will you make amends?"

"Your wife forced me to speak them, as you well know. I would not have spoken them were you not called out by name by her. But I have further quarrel to make with you - allowing your wife to address me on a problem that is clearly your authority to care for."

Eodwine had been mild but firm so far. This, however, was a variation on the accusation of the previous night. Eodwine looked down at him coldly. "Have you learned nothing, man? I give not two coins for who said what, or who sent whom when and where and how. You are proud and vain. What you think of me means less than nothing. But by your words and your deeds you are judged. You spoke insult against me and my wife last night. Will you make amends, or not? And Scyrr, be careful how you answer, for you tread close to the same as last night."

Scyrr leant back and spread his hands in a mock show of defeat. "Oh, I am sorry." His tone was insincere. "What would you have me do now, then?" He looked up at Eodwine, a challenge in his eyes. No, he would not directly defy Eodwine again, but his words were obviously nothing less than a rebellious challenge.

"Simple, soldier," Eodwine replied with a cold smile. "I would that you take your punishment like a man for your cheek. I will speak with your lord about this." With that he turned from the man and went back to the Elf. Yes, much better company, the Elf.

[Folwren]

Javan

Javan put the bucket down by Léof and stood with his arms crossed as he watched Léof try to coax the youngster into putting his hand into the water. He was not impressed that the tyke didn’t know that a stick that had been lying in the fire was hot. However, it was admirable how the little boy did not cry after those first screams. And, really, those yells had sounded more angry than hurt.

He crouched next to Léof, facing the child. “See? I got the water so it will stop the burning in your hand.” He stuck his hand in to demonstrate the procedure. “Aaaah,” he said, and popped his hand back out again. “Then it will be all better.”

--

Quin

He could not help but overhear Eodwine’s and Scyrr’s conversation, though throughout the duration of it, he kept his head down and his eyes on his trencher. He wished Scyrr had not sat so near him and that he did not have to hear it. With each passing remark from Scyrr, he winced within himself, and finally when Eodwine made his last answer, he raised his eyes to Eodwine’s face. His expression was hard to read, but it clearly lacked the general good will it usually bore. Instead, he looked implacably stern and cold as he informed Scyrr that he would be telling lord Athanar of this and turned away.

Quin glanced swiftly at Scyrr and then lowered his eyes again to his plate. He and Léof had frequently talked about Eodwine. He had learned from Léof that Eodwine was a gentle man, slow to anger, but just in his actions. Everyone who had lived in Scarburg under Eodwine’s lordship had respected him. Quin wondered if anyone had ever insulted him like Scyrr had and if even Léof could guess what Eodwine would ask to be done. He looked about apprehensively. The conversation had lagged at the table. The men were sitting with their eyes mostly downcast, but he caught covert looks being sent after Eodwine and towards Scyrr. Quin realized he had not been the only one to overhear the confrontation.

“What did you expect, Scyrr?” Quin said, standing up and preparing to leave the hall. “That’d he’d stand by to let you insult him and his wife? You should’ve made amends and let it go. He wouldn’t have asked for a punishment then.”

“Mind your own business, Quin,” Scyrr growled. “I don’t need your advice.”

“Not now, certainly. Maybe if I’d given it sooner.”

Scyrr looked angrily at him. “Move along, I said.” Quin shrugged and went.

[littlemanpoet]

"Big."

Harreld chuckled inside. The boy lifted his arms as if he wanted to fly. Well, Harreld could not make a boy fly, but he could do the next best thing. He started to run around the yard, lifting the boy higher, lower, veering this way then that.

[Folwren]

“Indeed?” Saeryn said. “A day’s ride west. So, we are nearer than Edoras. Edoras is not so very intimidating, though,” she added. “Not once you get to know it.” She paused and as Ledwyn paid careful attention to the job in her hands, Saeryn used the opportunity to consider her carefully.

Here was a hard-working woman, accustomed to the hardened life of a village-woman, but she was tired. The evidence was clear on her face: the taught lines about her mouth, the focused expression of her eyes on her hands as she dried the trenchers. And little wonder. It came back suddenly to Saeryn that Ledwyn had mentioned that her husband had died. An empathetic pain clutched her stomach at her very core. She had come so close to losing Eodwine, she had briefly touched the fear and pain that this woman felt. She also had a child – a little boy who scarcely spoke. How difficult it must have been to leave her home and come here to Scarburg, even if it was just a good day’s ride.

“Tell me about your home, Ledwyn,” Saeryn said, her voice gentle. “And about your family.”

[Galadriel55]

Theolain sulked in the corner, sitting on a sack of potatoes. He rolled his eyes at the kitchen. It was not easy to do: he could roll his eyes at Mother, and at the oven, and at the ceiling, but not all of them together. Out of stubborness, or maybe because it was something to do, he tried to roll them in such a way as would encompass the entire room. His head ended up rolling more than his eyes did, but Theolain was satisfied.

He sulked again. He busied himself with untying a hard knot on the piece of rope that held close the sack he sat on. This feat proved to have the better of him, as his fumbling fingers were too clumsy, and the bandages on his right hand got in the way.

Suddenly, a new door opened for him - quite literally. A man opened the door just wide enough for him to get in. He asked the women for something. Theolain did not listen; he was too concentrated on getting past the man, through the door, and out into the open without getting noticed. When the man stepped forward to take a bundle from one of the women, Theolain snuck quietly on his knees behind him until he was on the other side of the kitchen wall. No one seemed to raise any alarm, or, indeed, mark his absence.

Theolain stood aside as the man walked out, closing the door behind him. The stranger was already striding out the big doors when Theolain made up his mind to follow him. Maybe he would go to someplace interesting and bring Theolain somewhere where he could play in this strange and unfamiliar place.

He paused on the threshold, blinking against the bright sun and feeling the frosty wind on his face. Then, spotting the man several feet away, he scrambled head over heels in his wake.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld heard a noise behind him. He turned. It was a boy lying sprawled on the ground. He did not know the lad.

"Hello! Are you hurt?"

The boy used his hands and knees to get on two feet. It was then that Harreld noticed the bandage.

"You are hurt."

But he does not cry. He went back to the boy. "How are old are you, child?"

[Galadriel55]

"Hello! Are you hurt?" asked the man. Theolain took no notice.

"You are hurt," the man added after a few moments. Theolain listened, but made no reply. "How old are you, child?" Theolain gave the man a hesitant grin as he looked up at his tall form.

Then, without any warning, Theolain dashed away. When he was half a score feet - and a few tumbles - away from the man he turned and looked mischievously at him.

[Folwren]

Saeryn sat at the high table with Lord Athanar and his wife. She sat beside Eodwine and remained silent throughout their discourse. At first, she paid less mind to the talk and more to the food at hand. She had started the morning early and had worked hard up until that point and breakfast was more than welcome.

But when Athanar asked Eodwine and Laerdil his question concerning the loyal servant who wronged the lord’s right-hand man, she paused and raised her eyes to him. When he finished his question, veiled and yet clear as day, she turned her look to Eodwine. Yet it was the elf that answered first.

Saeryn listened with but half her mind. Why should Athanar ask what is to be done? He did not ask when Lithor was half so defiant in his presence. She lowered her eyes again to her breakfast, and slowly resumed eating. She vaguely heard Athanar turn to the question to Eodwine, but she clearly heard, “I will punish Scyrr, naturally. There is no way out for him from this. And there are no excuses...”

Good! Saeryn said to herself, raising her eyebrows. At least he will do that.

“But I'd like to hear what happened and what would be your verdict. Think of it as things happening not to you but with some people you don't know."

Saeryn smirked. How did Athanar expect Eodwine to detach himself from what had happened? He had been openly insulted, as had she, and she knew Eodwine’s pride and honor would not stand for that. No Eorling would stand for such insults without redress of some kind.

But Eodwine said nothing. The pause lengthened until Saeryn lifted her eyes to his face. He was looking at Athanar, but she knew he was not really seeing him. She laid her hand on his. He blinked and stirred slightly.

"I am sorry, lord. What did you ask me?" he asked.

"Nevermind lord Eodwine. I'll ask your opinion later but soon enough,” Athanar replied. He turned the conversation then to the elf.

Saeryn turned with disappointment back to her meal. She listened in silence as Laerdil responded to his question. As soon as she had cleared her trencher, she excused herself. She rose and took her trencher and then gathered others from other tables. Most of the men had already left to see to their daily work.

Saeryn entered the kitchen with her arms loaded with used trenchers and spoons. She deposited them by the washtub.

“Ginna,” Saeryn said, taking her apron off of the peg behind the door. “Will you go out and finish clearing the tables?” She tied the apron around her waist and began to roll up her sleeves. “I will start washing the dishes.”

Using her apron to protect her hands, she carefully lifted the pot of water that sat warming on the stove. As she poured it into the wider tub, she turned her head to look for the newcomer.

“Ledwyn, would you like to give me a hand cleaning these?” she asked.

The young woman complied happily. They began their work in silence, Saeryn washing the trenchers and Ledwyn drying them and stacking them on one side.

“Tell me,” Saeryn said after a lengthy pause, “you say you come from the West Emnet. When did you begin your travels? And why did you come here and not go to Edoras?”

[Galadriel55]

Theolain

Theolain eyed the bit of bread the man held. He broke his fast earlier, and had a good helping of bread and eggs when he ate at the new place. But he could not refuse more. He was walking toward to man before he knew it.

He was reaching out his hand to the bread when the excitement of a chase suddenly stepped in again, and Theolain jumped aside instead. His legs tangled and he fell clumsily to the ground, but sat up in a few moments. He was facing away from the man, so he winked at the fields in front of him.



Ledwyn

Ledwyn started when the Lady Saeryn spoke. She was still dazed by what she witnessed in the Hall, and she was not ready to speak about it yet. However, she loosened slightly when she realized that Lady Saeryn did not ask about it.

“Edoras is farther from my home than Scarburg, my Lady,” she replied, keeping her eyes firmly on a trencher she was wiping, as if she was afraid to drop it, though her expression did not reflect this concentration. “And,” she continued, “Edoras is just so... grand.” She paused her work for a brief moment to glance up at Lady Saeryn, who caught her eye. Ledwyn looked down quickly, taking another trencher to dry.

After two more trenchers she added, as if she suddenly remembered, “My family always lived in the West Emnet, until the War – but fortunately my village was untouched. However, it lies so close to the border the King defined for Middle Emnet that many think we are part of it. In good weather a horsed man can make the journey to Scarburg in less than a day.” And still Ledwyn’s eyes remained wide and blank, seeing neither her village nor the trencher, but fixed on her hands.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld had only had his twin brother Garreth for most of his life, and had little if any experience with children, but seeing the youngling on all fours facing away, he could not resist the temptation to play. He set down his package and reached with both hands around the boy's middle and lifted him high in the air.

"What do you see from way up there, lad?"

If anyone had seen this sudden display of impulse from Harreld, they might have grinned to see the big smile on his face.