Hard Winters RPG

[Galadriel55]

Ledwyn was the first one in the kitchen. This was odd; Frodides or Saeryn were oft the first to arrive and take charge of the work. But the rough winter and the sudden, though long-awaited, gift of food have upset the regular duties, and the people of Scarburg were just beginning to return to their former lives. Ledwyn started the fire and laid out the supplies. Soon, Rowenna joined her and took charge until Frodides came with the others.

Stefnu was singing softly as she worked. Her voice was beautiful, but her manner too assuming. Work is a time for work, Ledwyn thought, not for song and dance. And the woman’s cooing over Ruari made Ledwyn scowl. Ruari was a bright lass, wild and lively, as fiery as her locks, but her quiet serious brother deserved no less than her. Stefnu seemed completely charmed by the girl, while Eoghan went unnoticed. And even so, these children have a mother. She may be the Lady of the Hall, with little time to spare, but she is not dead or gone. Leodhern needed a mother, and so did Garmund, yet Stefnu chose to occupy the place of a living woman. Ledwyn held her displeasure in hand; it was not her place either to pronounce judgment on Stefnu. During the winter, when living was the purpose of each day, much was forgiven, and much more was not noticed. Now, if Saeryn finds fault with aught, she will be the one to upbraid.

Lord Eodwine called to break his fast, and Ledwyn followed Rowenna out as she brought out the first tray. Rowenna went to serve the eorl, while Ledwyn took hers to the first men to arrive.

[Firefoot]

Hope: it was a word Scyld had scarcely dared to think in many years. He had been so unhappy for so long that for a long time he had not even known what he wanted anymore, had not known what it would take for him to be happy. He would have responded to such a question as Eodwine’s with scathing cynicism (if he was honest) or a dishonest platitude (if he wished to not offend, or to manipulate the conversation in some way).

He still did not fully understand what he was looking for, but it was something that his family members had, and something he had seen among many of the Scarburg folk as well: a fullness, a satisfaction in their lives, and an optimism for the future: hope, he supposed it was hope. He did not know how to find those things for himself, but maybe he could have a chance to try.

He could not quite bring himself to say the word, though. “I want to put my misdeeds behind me,” he answered, “and to live without fear of anyone laying charge against me.” He paused a moment, then supposed he might as well bring up the rest of it as well, while he had Eodwine’s attention. “Nothing more would I ask, though I came back to Scarburg with the thought that I might stay. I have spent the last three and a half years learning leatherworking. I would offer my services.”

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine had been about to dismiss Rowenna with a thanks for the water when a pair of high pitched screams and two small bodies hurtled out of his own rooms, across the hall, into the kitchen. He could not help watching ... and grinning. Saeryn quickly took matters in hand. Eodwine couldn't help chuckling as Eoghan left the hall and Ruari sat glowering. Oh, that one would make a fine head mistress someday in some eorl's hall. No doubt. Unless she chose to be a shield maiden instead. He pulled a mildly horrified face then returned his attention to Scyld.

But Rowenna had not left. "Did I hear you say that you have become skilled in leatherworking, Nydfara?" she asked, wiping absently with her apron at a small spill on the table.

Nydfara's brow furrowed a moment as he turned to answer, but Eodwine raised a hand. "Yes, it is as you must have overheard, Rowenna," he interrupted. "Please leave us. Nydfara and I have something to speak about and I want us to be left alone. If we want more of anything I will call for it."

Her lips pursed but she nodded and left.

"Scyld," he said, but paused a moment, gathering his thoughts, "though I do not like Linduial, her word was never in question, only her pride. That is a point to the good. You, however, withheld the truth from me and mine while you were with us; a point to the ill. Perhaps those two points even out, perhaps not.

"I will tell you the truth. When I first read this letter, I thought to call my men to us and put you under guard. That tells you how much I dislike falsehood. Yet what you have been telling me now rings true. I see a man who has been bred to mistrust and caution, who has here learned that he can place trust, while still being cautious. That tells me that you have a sharp mind.

"I wish to be just and I wish to be merciful. Here is what I have a mind to do. I will take you on as a leatherworker for a year and a day. If, when the time has come, and you have done well in your work and in your deeds toward all in Scarburg, then I would speak with you at length ... about how Scarburg could benefit from that good mind of yours. What say you?"

[Firefoot]

Leof's mind was wandering as he mucked out the stall, and did not mind in the least when Eoghan's cheerful voice interrupted him.

"Hello there, Eoghan," he said, smiling at the boy. Leof was quite fond of Eoghan and glad to see him looking more like his old self. With the natural resiliency of youth, he seemed to be recovering well from the hard winter.

He also had all the makings of a good horseman, Leof thought, and he was pleased to share his knowledge with the boy. Privately Leof thought it was time for him to begin learning to ride in earnest, and decided to try and take the boy out with him more that summer (with Eodwine and Saeryn's consent of course; he did not mean to undermine them).

"I'm almost finished here," said Leof. "Then I'm going to check on Cinderfoot. She's going to have her foal soon. Would you like to come with me?"

[Galadriel55]

Ledwyn frowned at the girl.

“Your mother told you to sit by the table, young lady,” she said sternly. “And you should say brought, not broughted.” Ledwyn watched as the girl pouted, but then brightened up again as thoughts started sparkling in her mind. At times like this, it seemed to Ledwyn that the reason the girl’s hair was so red was because sometimes these sparks flew out and set it on fire.

Her face serious and meek, but her eyes shining with mischief, Ruari tried to plead. “Stefnu gived me honey before!”

“We do not say gived,” Ledwyn said patiently, while she thought of how to best answer the lass, “we say gave.”

“So I can have the honey. I will remember to say gave.” Ruari jumped on Ledwyn’s hesitation.

“No you cannot,” Ledwyn retorted. She saw Stefnu come in with an empty tray in one arm. She wished the woman would not meddle now. “Honey is rare,” she tried reasoning, “and it is a treat. If you would eat honey with every porridge, you would empty Elfthain’s flask in less than a fortnight, and you will not have any honey left for special days. Besides, you are not the only one who wants to try the honey. Your brother still did not have any, and I do not see him wheedling it out of the kitchen wenches.”

“But Stefnu gave me honey because I was good that day! I was good after that too!”

“You were not very good this morning, child, or else your mother would not bring you here to sit and cool down your temper.” And Stefnu should not have given you that honey. Ledwyn saw that the woman was listening, and tried to finish her task quickly. “Now go Ruari, sit where your mother told you, and stay there until she comes back.”

[Firefoot]

Scyld was a little shaken to discover how close Eodwine had been to disregarding his plea. What surprised him the most was that Eodwine seemed more bothered by his deception than by his original crime. He would have to remember that, if he was to live under the lordship of a man to whom honor and integrity were so important.

By the time Eodwine reached the end of his proposal, Scyld found himself nodding slightly. It was a good offer, a test of both his character and his skills. Had Scyld been in the Eorl's position, he would not have shown himself even as much trust as Eodwine was giving him, and it actually increased his respect for Eodwine to see that his mercy was not wholly blind.

At any rate, he had nothing left to hide and felt reasonably confident that a year would be sufficient time to win over the Eorl, as well as to determine for himself whether he would like to make this his permanent dwelling, to see whether he might find what he was looking for here. "Your offer is more than fair," he said, "and I would gladly accept."

[Folwren]

“I’m almost finished here,” Léof said. “Then I’m going to check on Cinderfoot. She’s going to have her foal soon. Would you like to come with me?”

“Yes,” Eoghan said simply, and stood upright. He seized a ring in the wall and used it for leverage to pull himself up until he could reach the top of the stall wall, and so clambered up to sit astride it. The horse inside the stall with Léof lifted its head high and stared at Eoghan a moment. After careful consideration, the horse began to chew its breakfast again and dropped its head back to the manger.

Eoghan sat in silence, watching Léof work methodically, raking the hay and throwing the soiled bedding out over the stall door and into the aisle. Neither of them spoke. Eoghan saw no purpose in speaking, and Léof had grown accustomed to his often silent companionship.

Before long, Léof’s job was done. He came out and Eoghan scrambled down from the wall. Together they walked to the foaling stall. This was a larger stall than the others and was build just by Léof’s room so that he could keep an easy eye on any expectant mare they had there. At present it contained a towering dappled grey mare. Her mane and tail were black, as were all four of her legs. That was how she had gotten her name, Eoghan had been told, for cinders are black, and as she grew, it became evident she would keep her black legs and feet even while the rest of her body became whiter and whiter. She paced the stall restlessly and when Léof opened the stall door she turned her head towards him and nickered softly. Léof entered, Eoghan coming close behind him.

He gazed up admiringly at the horse. Under normal circumstances, Cinderfoot would be considered a large horse, but at present, with her belly swollen to remarkable proportions, she appeared in the little boy’s eyes a giantess in the horse world.

He stood at a respectful distance while Léof approached her.

“Will it come soon?” Eoghan asked after Léof had had a moment to exam her.

[littlemanpoet]

"Good morning Rowenna, please fetch Sc - Nydfara and me some food and drink."

Eodwine and Nydfara were breaking fast together? They did not look relaxed together, not like friends. What business could this be? Walking away, she kept her attention on their conversation, hoping to catch something of what they said. The Eorl was speaking quietly, but she caught the word, 'skilled'. Was he asking Nydfara in what ways was he skilled? She had to go into the kitchen and their voices were out of earshot. She quickly gathered what was needed for their morning meals so she could return and catch what she could. She thought she heard Nydfara's voice, but she could not make out the words. At last, she had the food ready and returned to them.

"... a farmer ... long known ... questions ... wrong sort ... not hide ... forever ... someone ... out. I left shortly after, to find Lady Linduial and ask her to write that letter for me.”

A letter? Written by a Lady for him? Shown to Eodwine? Rowenna set down their platters and cups, and moved away. This time she would stay just on the other side of the door, listening carefully.

"Let us eat for a bit while I think over what you have said."

There was a long silence. What kind of skill? What did that have to do with a farmer? Who was hiding?

"What do you hope for, skilled?"

It was an odd question. Had Nydfara not been skilled before? What skill? Rowenna held her breath. It was a while before she heard the answer, but Nydfara spoke quietly. It was hard to pick out every word.

“... misdeeds behind ... live without fear ... charge ...” There was a moment's pause. “Nothing more ... came back ... Scarburg ... thought ... stay... three ... half years ... leatherworking... offer ... services.”

His skill was leatherworkering? He wanted to stay for three more years? Then where would he be off to? Insufferable. She went and grabbed the water jug and walked out to their table.

"Water?" She couldn't help glancing at Nydfara crossly.

[Firefoot]

Waiting for Eodwine’s reply more tensely than he had wished to let on, Scyld could not quite control a jerk of surprise when Rowenna came up from behind him.

“Water?” she asked, and at first he thought she had only come at a bad moment; he nearly smiled weakly at her when she shot him a cross look.

He recovered quickly. “Please, my cup is nearly empty,” he said blandly to hide both his confusion and his irritation. He did not understand why he deserved that look. He supposed she must have overheard something, intentionally or not, that displeased her. Had she heard Eodwine’s use of his right name? He could think of nothing else. And why would she try to make an issue of it now, in front of Eodwine? Surely she could see that this was a serious conversation; why was she trying to insert her opinions into it? Her quarrel with him must be personal. Let her glare; he would not let her jeopardize his chance for pardon.

[Folwren]

Thornden roused himself when the others of the guardroom bestirred themselves. It was well after the women of the hall and the few other early risers had been awake, but no one, besides the children, were up long after sunrise.

Breakfast was not quite ready when they woke. Most of the men saw to whatever work they had to attend – some brought in wood, some drew water, others stirred the fires and brought the embers to life – others who had no work before breakfast to attend sat together and talked in quiet conversation.

Thornden made his way outside. The morning air still had a frigid bite to it, as though winter had stolen back during the night. The cold woke him thoroughly, and he took a deep breath of it. He headed towards the stables, for he had an idea that he would take his horse out that day and see if he would have any luck hunting. He had little hope of being successful – any game he found would be thin and meatless after the hard winter – but he had not ridden in a long time, and he did not know when his next opportunity would be, for soon the work of spring would begin and every man would be hard at work breaking the ground to plant crops, and building back the parts of the hall that had been torn down during the winter.

He bid good morning to Léof and Javan when he passed them on his way through the stables towards the outside paddocks. As he exited the stables, he spotted a young man hard at work grooming a horse. Thornden paused as he passed and turned his head to look. The horse’s coat was caked with mud and Thornden did not envy the lad his job. He turned his feet towards him and approached.

“Good morning!” he said as he approached. “You have quite a task ahead of you.” He smiled sympathetically as he surveyed the horse and then looked at the young man. “You are Elfthain, are you not?” he said. “We have not met. I am Thornden.”

[Folwren]

The twins made their presence known before they had been awake for five minutes. They had barely tumbled out of bed before they were quarreling. Ruari came out of the room screaming, with Eoghan hot on her heels, silent and intent on his prey. They made a direct path towards the kitchen, and Ruari had almost reached it and the protection she knew she would find within when Eoghan caught her. He tackled her to the floor (the momentum of their run was mostly the culprit in his violent act) and began to wrestle her for the wooden sword she held clutched in her hands.

Their loud disturbance brought their mother out from the kitchen. She picked Eoghan off Ruari with a practiced hand and set him down on one side of her before helping Ruari to her feet on the other side.

“What are you about, making all this noise this early in the morning?” she asked, frowning down at the two of them.

“She took the sword Elfthain made me yesterday!” Eoghan cried, still too riled to moderate his voice, even while speaking to Saeryn.

“You broked mine!” Ruari shouted passionately.

“I did not!” Eoghan retorted.

“Give him the sword back,” Saeryn commanded, knowing such an argument could continue indefinitely if allowed. “Go outside, Eoghan. Ruari, come into the kitchen.”

“But I don’t have a sword now!” Ruari cried, holding it back. Eoghan made a snatch for it, and Saeryn held him back.

“Now, Ruari,” she said. Ruari reluctantly handed the sword over and Eoghan took it hastily. “Go outside,” Saeryn said. The boy ran off, and Saeryn turned back to the kitchen, Ruari close behind her, sulking. “Sit there,” Saeryn said, pointing to the bench by the table. “You’ll have your breakfast soon.”

Ruari climbed up on the bench and knelt on it, her elbow on the table top. She sat glowering straight ahead, pretending to ignore all the women working around her. Out of the corner of her eye, though, she watched her mother, and as soon as she left, she turned her head to take proper stock of her surroundings. She slid off her bench and padded across the floor to Ledwyn. She tugged her skirt.

“Put honey in my porridge,” she said, her eyes bright with eagerness. “What Elfthain broughted.”

--

While Ruari attempted to swindle the sweets out of the ladies in the kitchen, Eoghan made his way to the stables. It was too cold outside to play in the courtyard, and he enjoyed going out and finding Léof or Javan and watching them work. Eoghan, like most boys his age in the Mark, had already grown to love horses. He was not yet allowed to be in the stalls or yard with any horse alone, but he had been promised that very soon he would begin to learn to ride alone. Many times he had sat astride Flithaf, his father’s now old war horse, usually with Eodwine behind him, but he looked forward someday to having a smaller horse more to his size and ability.

Until that day came, he assuaged his eagerness by visiting the stables often and asking Léof and Javan whatever questions he could think of. Sometimes they let him help groom some of the gentler horses. There were days he spent most of his hours in the stable, and Saeryn had long since learned that if she ever lost him, she could usually find him there.

This morning he entered the stables and walked quietly down the aisle, peeking under each stall door in search of Léof or Javan. After a time, he found Léof inside one. Bending down with his hands on his knees and his head nearly upside down, he peered within and hailed the stable master.

“Hi, Léof!”