Hard Winters RPG

[Galadriel55]

Ledwyn had no case to bring before the Eorl. She sat silently in the back and let her mind wander. The court was long, and her interest waning. She used to have a cause for worry, and for planning, but she did not have one anymore. Let the others do what they must; it was of no importance to her. As her mind wandered deeper into itself, she saw small feet splash through puddles. They slowed down and stole around the yard. Then, noticing her, they leapt up and disappeared behind the corner. She chased after them, but, rounding the corner, she did not see anything. She looked back: no, she did not pass them. She gazed around her, searching for a trace. Then she knew they were on the roof. She looked up, and there they were. Now he will climb down to me. But what's that? The feet tripped and tumbled over each other, going over the edge of the roof where she couldn't see. No! That is not what happened! she was about to cry out, when something soft and grey flew into her face and she woke up with a start.

It seemed that court has just finished; people were still standing up from their seats. Ledwyn felt her cheeks colour as she realized she fell asleep in court. It was her good fortune that she took her seat in a back corner, where not many people would have seen her doze. Looking down, she realized she was wearing the same shawl that was carried by the wind. She was not sure if the boy in her dream fell or flew. And he never tripped at all in the first place, she thought angrily, but she took off her shawl nonetheless. She shivered slightly, but she did not put it back on.

Ledwyn again fell into step with the household routine, doing what she did everyday. When Lady Saeryn asked her to check on Wilheard, she obliged silently. The young man was asleep, his brow still feverish. It was just as well, for Ledwyn had little love for him and had no wish to speak, but she fixed his covers and left a cup of brewed herbs on a nearby chest for when he would wake.

She just began to clean a pot in the kitchen when she heard a shrill whistle. She put the pot away and stepped outside to hear the announcement. She saw Kara beside her wrinkle her face in distaste, and heard a few not too kind things among the mutterings of the men, but some sour jokes too. She didn't feel either way. What ought to be done must be done, however little you like it, so there is no advantage to disliking it. That was how her life always worked.

She asked Kara if she may borrow her spare shawl to go outside. Kara nodded impatiently, and Ledwyn walked briskly to the women's room to get it before stepping outside into the rain.

[littlemanpoet]

Garreth and Harreld came from the armory to find a crowd gathered near the dung pit on a patch of ground still above the flood. Eodwine was walking the perimeter. They had found two more shovels, making eight altogether, not nearly enough for this crowd. They came to Eodwine and told him the bad news.

He nodded grimly. "You two go back to the smithy and make two dozen shovels. They need not be pretty nor refined, just useful for slinging dung and dirt. I care not what you use to make them. I want them made before supper."

They looked at each other, hearts sinking, for that would usually be a three day project, and to make shovels that fast meant cutting corners. Shovels they would be, but unpretty things still looking like what they had been before. "We will need two people to handle the blower and to fetch for us."

"Take whom you will."

They headed into the crowd, Eodwine overhearing Garreth mutter to Harreld, "No women."

He went to the bedraggled gathering. "We have only eight shovels. The smiths will make two dozen more by supper, and the first of them should be ready to use as soon as they are made; I care not whether the dung steams on your shovel or not. In the meantime, gather whatever scrap of flat anything you can find, or use your hands if you must, because a trench must be dug. I will show you where." The folk looked at him in dumb and unwilling disbelief. "If we do not do this, we will sicken and have death among us in a matter of days! Go find some tool if you will not work with your hands. Now!"

The crowd broke apart into scurrying groups, except for eight men wielding the prized shovels.

"I will show you where to start digging."

[Firefoot]

Scyld by chance had been standing near the shovels when Eodwine made his pronouncement, and he was not shy about taking one. The thought did briefly cross his mind to return to the Hall with only the pretense of finding something else to dig with, but he could only hide out for so long. If he was to dig he would rather have a proper shovel.

He followed Eodwine, sinking up to his ankles in mud and worse things. At the designated area, he set his spade to the earth. It dug in easily to the soft earth, but he felt the strain in his back when he tried to lift the first shovelful of heavy wet earth. Smaller scoops, then. The hole seemed to fill immediately with water.

Scoop after scoop and he felt as though he was hardly accomplishing anything. He tried to ignore the smell, the soaking rain, and the grime that was slowly coating his clothes and exposed skin.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna had come out with everyone else. Not enough shovels, she thought. What could she possibly use? Ladles? Pots and pans? They would have to do, and could be cleaned later. She had a hunch that the cooks and kitchen maids would say her nay, but she would give them a talking to, if it came to that.

She was pleased with Eodwine's forcefulness and quick action. Of course, quick action was what was needed. If he had not gotten them to do what was needed, then there would be little use to staying here.

She looked over her shoulder at the Scar. Would it not be better to build a settlement on those heights? What had possessed that fool brigand lord to build in a virtual swamp?

She passed through the Hall to the kitchens, and found a pot that she regarded to be just her size. It would be back breaking work, but she would heal.

"What are you doing!" came the inevitable cry. It was Frodides.

"I'm taking this pot to dig a trench."

"But you will get it dirty!"

"If I do not, we will not be able to live! Now find a pot yourself, or at least a ladle if that is the best you can do, and come help!"

She took her pot and without a backward glance, headed off to the digging.

[Folwren]

Thornden seized upon a shovel and found himself working side by side with Scyld. They flung the muck and filth into a heap on the far side of the would-be trench. He noticed, just as Scyld and all the other diggers noticed, how progress seemed impossible and new water and mud filled the trench with each shovelful taken out.

“If the mud continues to flow like this, we may need to brace the sides with boards,” Thornden said aloud, but more to himself than to Scyld. The trouble would be finding boards. “Stone would work, too,” he added after a moment’s consideration. They had stones in plenty. But further reflection caused him to realize that stones would sink and would not be as useful. Hopefully they would not need to use either. Some progress was being made, and more and more people were joining them with makeshift tools to scoop away the sludge.

He spotted Ruari and Eoghan some way down the line. He only recognized them from their short stature. Most of the people were indistinguishable in the gray, streaming curtain of rain. Every head was bent, every back stooped. He turned his eyes and attention back to the end of his shovel.

The twins thought they were helping with the task at hand. They had not asked for permission to come out, they had simply followed the general crowd. They immediately grasped understanding of the situation and had gone to find something with which to dig. They returned and squeezed in between members of the line and squatted down and began to dip and fling the muck. No one paid them much mind, as they did no harm, and if they were in the way, they were asked to move down the trench.

The trench was slowly taking form. It never was empty, but the thick muck that was being removed was replaced by water, presumably flowing down from the dung pits. The quiet drudgery, endured in silence by most of the people, was broken by a quarrel between the twins.

Ruari’s shoveling implement – a piece of thick bark fallen from one of the logs brought by the supply wagon – broke off and fell into the trench. She fished for it with her hand a moment, but the water was too murky for her to see, and too deep for her to reach to the bottom. She turned to Eoghan.

“Give me your stick,” she said. “I losed mine.”

“No,” Eoghan answered, shortly. “Go find another.”

Ruari stood up and moved away. She came back a couple minutes later, unsuccessful in her search. “I can’t find anything. Let me have a turn.”

Eoghan pretended he had not heard and continued shoveling. Ruari moved nearer and tried to reach for the stick. Eoghan held it out of reach and pushed her off with a raised elbow. She began to holler for it. Eoghan, still staving her off with his arm, turned his head, scooped out a blobful of muck and catapulted it at his sister.

Ruari howled with indignation, and immediately used both her hands to shove Eoghan's back. He toppled straight into the trench.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna was not so close to the children, but was closer than Eodwine. She looked his way and saw him stop in the middle of shoveling a load of dung. She meaningfully pointed at herself and then at the two children, Eoghan now hollering in doubled indignation. Eodwine nodded and watched her head off to the children before continuing with the work.

Rowenna trudged over to Ruari. With two hands she lifted her up, carried her ten feet back, and placed her on her feet.

"Stay here," she grated. "If you do not, you will feel worse from me than dung on your clothing."

Without a backward glance, she trudged back to the now screaming Eoghan, who had been fished out of the trench by one of the men at arms. With a quick thank you to him, Rowenna took Eoghan by then hand and trudged back to Ruari, who was standing precisely one step away from where Rowenna had put her, and one foot raised to take another. Rowenna grabbed her hand.

"Come!"

She walked at a splashing pace fast enough to make the children struggle to keep up, back to the Hall. Saeryn would be in a fit once she saw these two.

[Folwren]

Saeryn had gone out momentarily to see the flooding and hear the plans that were made. She returned to the hall with the others searching for objects and implements to dig with. She followed behind others when she found something, but she stopped halfway across the muddy yard. In time, people would come in from their task, wet through, cold, and covered in mud and dung. She grimaced at the thought and turned her steps back toward the kitchen. She was relieved to see that the buckets of water drawn earlier from the well still stood by the door.

“Cerwyn,” she said, seeing that the young lady still sat there. “Set some pots over the fire. As many as you can find. I’m going to fetch more water. We’ll get water ready for everyone when they finish the task.”

Together they stoked up the fire, moved the stew for supper over the direct heat, and put a cauldron of water on the boil. Saeryn hauled in from outside a large wooden tub used for bathing.

“Keep water on,” she said when she had finished. “When it gets hot, pull it aside and put it by the stew, and put another pot on the hook. I’ll bring in more before going out to help on the trench.” She picked up her shawl and tied it over her head and picked up the two buckets. She turned towards the door and stopped as it swung open and Rowenna, towing the twins behind her, entered. Searyn froze, rooted to her spot, and she surveyed their condition. Both were wet, but only Eoghan was soaked through and through and covered almost head to toe in mud and muck, and though Ruari looked black as thunder, only Eoghan was screaming.

“Stop that noise,” she said sternly. Eoghan cut short his shrill cry, but he did not cease the noise entirely.

“Ruari pushed me in!” he accused loudly.

Saeryn’s eyes flashed towards Ruari. She did not even need to ask if this was so, for the impetuous girl immediately began to defend herself. “My shovel broke, and Eoghan wouldn’t give me-”

“Hush,” Saeryn said, quietly. Ruari and Eoghan became silent, and for a moment all that was heard was the crackling of the fire and the drip, drip of water from Eoghan’s clothes, punctuated with an occasional sniff from him.

“We’ll get you cleaned up, and then we will discuss this. Take your clothes off. Rowenna, help Ruari there.” The two women got the children undressed, their soiled clothes dropped in a heap. “Rowenna, see if you can find any rope. We’ll string a line outside and hang these clothes. The rain can do some of our rinsing for us until we can get to the wash.” Rowenna went outside without a word.

Ruari crept towards the fire, shivering. Searyn stopped her. “Stay where you are until we get this tub filled.” Ruari looked like she was about to protest, but a look from Saeryn warned her not to speak. She subsided into silence and waited by her brother, who looked colder and more dejected than she. It seemed to the two of them that Saeryn and Cerwyn worked as slowly as was humanly possible, but it was really only a couple of short minutes before the tub was filled with lukewarm water and Saeryn called Ruari over. She washed her arms and legs, toweled her dry, and then told her to stand by the fire while she attended Eoghan.

In a few minutes they were cleaned and dressed. Rowenna had the line strung outside and the children’s clothes taken and hung there. Saeryn sat the two children on the bench by the kitchen table.

“I will go out and see how things go outside. Cerwyn, is it too much to ask that you keep an eye on them until I return?”