Scarburg Meadhall

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna

“Why," asked Saeryn, "did you ask Eodwine if you could ride Flíthaf and not trouble me for my horse? He’s more fit for you, and can run faster than Flíthaf, I’ll lay my bet on it.”

"I think you don't give proud Flíthaf enough credit! Anyway, I'll not take your horse from you. Don't you want to be in the race?"

Saeryn looked off in the distance as if trying to decide. "Yes, I think I will race!"

"Good!" Rowenna laughed. "We'll show the men how well women can ride! But you asked why I chose Flíthaf. I just went to the stables and there was this grand horse looking straight at me, his ears perked up as if he wanted me to ride him! So I asked Léof who he was, and who he belonged to, and he said Eodwine's steed, Flíthaf, and that was that."

"What if there is only one race?"

Rowenna did not respond immediately, but tipped her head as if giving thought to a new idea, even though she had already thought through the whole matter to the last detail. Finally she looked at Saeryn seriously and said, "Then I will of course tell Lord Eodwine that I cannot possibly take his own steed from him." She turned her head. "Look! There go Aethelstan and Matrim, and Javan and Erbrand, off to the stakes! And there's Eodwine, heading for the stables! I had better go make sure! And you need to ready your mount! Let's go!"

The two young women ran arm in arm toward the stables and Eodwine; it just so happened that Lithor was with him.

"Lithor!" Rowenna called, "how many races will there be?"

"We will have one race," he answered.

"Oh!" Rowenna stopped and disengaged her arms from Saeryn's. She looked sadly at Eodwine. "Lord, I cannot keep your horse from you. You must ride him. I will step down from the race." She made a point of looking as crestfallen as she knew she would feel if she actually expected not to race.

"Nonsense!" Eodwine said, as gallantly as she expected, "You may ride Flíthaf today. I will ride another mount."

"Oh! Thank you!" She rushed up and gave Eodwine a hug and a peck on the cheek. Then she grabbed his hand and tugged. "Come! We must find a mount noble enough for an Eorl!"

Eodwine seemed reluctant to be pulled along to the stables.

"Saeryn! Help me! Grab his other hand before our lord decides not to race himself!"

[Firefoot]

Finally freed of people seeking his attention, Léof headed off for the baker where everyone had gathered in hopes of learning in more detail just what was going on that day and what events there might be and who was entered. He had not crossed but half the distance, however, when a large contingent of the Hall broke off and started heading towards him, and the stables. “What is going on around here?” he asked aloud to no one in particular.

“The horse race, Léof! It is the first event!” cried Javan, who was nearby.

“The first event! But I have had no time to prepare any of the horses save my own, and that only by chance!” Léof replied in exasperation, forgetting for the moment that he still had not entirely forgiven Javan and no longer talked much with him. “They are all no doubt thoroughly dusty, and there is only so much space in the stables such as they are for people to be saddling up horses…” But Javan had already hurried off to find his own mount. Shaking his head, Léof turned to follow. Most of the riders had better be willing to prepare and saddle up their own mounts, if this was how much warning they wanted to give him. Honestly. He didn’t even know who all was riding in the race and on which horses.

Well, he would focus on Æthel and if someone needed him for something, they would know where to find him. He reminded himself that he was far from the only able horseman in the Hall, and most of the others would have no troubles with saddling up their own horses. Even so… he could have done with some warning. He liked to be prepared. Focus, he told himself again. If he wanted to win this race, and he did, he needed to have his mind on it alone. “Well, Æthel baby,” he addressed the horse as he pulled her out, “ready to run?”

[Folwren]

"Saeryn! Help me! Grab his other hand before our lord decides not to race himself!"

Saeryn did not answer. She stood rooted to the spot where Rowenna had left her, with a slight flush upon her cheeks and her lips half open. Across the quickly widening gap between her and Eodwine, their eyes met, and all her eyes said to his were, 'How could you?' She meant it in more than one way.

Rowenna did not need her help. That much was obvious. She had gotten all that she wanted and Saeryn highly doubted she really cared if Eodwine rode or not. Any doubts Saeryn had about her decision to race were suddenly and completely wiped from her brain. With a hardening resolve, she gathered her skirts in her hand and strode onwards.

She passed the merry Rowenna, chattering much too cheerfully with Eodwine, and walked directly to her saddle. She picked it up, hefted it deftly on her shoulder and reached for her blanket and bridle. In less than a minute, she swept out again, once more passing the two of them without a glance and walked towards the paddock.

All the horses came to greet her at the gate, eager for any treat she might offer. Saeryn ignored them all as she placed her saddle on the fence. She climbed over it, urged the horses away from her and walked to her own. He took the bit and bridle admirably and followed Saeryn to the gate.

Rowenna and Eodwine were there, presumably to choose which horse Eodwine would ride. Eodwine opened the gate for her and allowed her to come out while he made sure no other horses took the chance to follow. She thanked him quietly as she passed and took her horse over to the saddle.

She groomed him quickly and began saddling. By then, Eodwine had chosen his horse and brought him over and tied him near Saeryn. They worked without speaking for a moment, their backs to each other. Finally, Saeryn broke the silence.

“It was very chivalrous of you to allow Rowenna to ride your horse.” Perhaps there was just enough emphasis on the words ‘chivalrous’ and ‘your’ to cause Eodwine not to answer. Saeryn pressed her lips together. It was not only the fact that Eodwine gave Rowenna Flíthaf to ride that rankled. Her blood boiled at the memory of Rowenna rushing to Eodwine and hugging him, and then kissing him (however lightly) on the cheek. She had never taken such a liberty.

Then the heat lowered and she cleared her head. It was not really Eowdine’s fault. She should not be angry with him. She resolved to make up, and turned her head slightly towards him. “Will you race with me in the three-legged tie race?”