Scarburg Meadhall

[littlemanpoet]

Garstan and Crabannan stepped into the ring. Crabannan crouched and shifted from side to side, eyeing Garstan like a prey to be worsted. Garstan opened his eyes wide and exhaled a puff of air, shaking his head in doubt. Crabannan allowed a grim smile. He pounced like a tiger, grabbing Garstan by the right shoulder, placing his left foot behind Garstan's. Garstan tried to duck out of his sudden disadvantage, but found himself on his back and Crabannan on top of him; the match was over almost before it had begun.

Aethelstan and Harreld faced each other. Harreld had been watching Crabannan, and stole a glance his way, apparently impressed. But he gave his full attention to Aethelstan, who was almost as tall as he, but lanky. A canny look came into the fellow's eye; Harreld remembered what he had seen Aethelstan do to Osmund. Sure enough, Aethelstan lowered himself and aimed toward Harreld's midriff with his shoulder for a battering ram. Harreld was prepared; he sidestepped and used his hammerlike right fist to give Aethelstan a good pound on the back just below the offending shoulder, and Aethelstan found himself on all fours. Harreld dropped atop him and took hold of his left arm and midriff the way he'd seen Crabannan do to Matrim; but he remembered what Matrim had done, and didn't trust a back-roll. He used all the force of his planted knees and shoved Aethelstan onto his stomach. Aethelstan splayed himself to increase his center of gravity, but Harreld reached beneath Aethelstan's left shoulder and hip and, using the leverage of his knees against the ground again, and using the great strength of his smithying upper body, hoisted Aethelstan over onto his back, and planted himself on the man's chest. Harreld had won decisively.

The two finalists were allowed a rest and a drink before resuming the contest.

Harreld faced Crabannan in the ring. Harreld was broader of upper body and new how to use leverage as well as did Crabannan, but Crabannan had quickness in his favor. Both had relatively the same stamina, so it would be strength against quickness. Harreld knew that his best chance was to push Crabannan out of the ring. Crabannan knew that his best chance was to use Harreld's mass against him and by craft of technique, get him on his back or out of the ring, whichever opportunity availed itself.

They crouched and circled each other, and circled each other, making feints that the other did not buy. Both began to reveal a mirthless grin as both knew that the each waited for the other to make the first move. Both were patient men. But Crabannan was less patient than Harreld, and made the first move. It was a canny one, calculated to bring a reaction which needed to be the greater move, one big enough to be taken advantage of.

Crabannan dove for Harreld's left shin as if attempting to push it out from under the smith; Harreld pivoted to his left, ready to pounce on Crabannan's exposed back, but it was not there, for Crabannan had rolled past him, come back to his legs, and kicked backward with his left leg against the back of Harreld's left knee. Harreld lost his balance and went down to his knee. Crabannan's left leg found the ground and his back came down on Harreld's right side, so that Harreld fell to his left; Crabannan splayed his legs and flipped as quick as he could while Harreld righted himself: the result was Harreld on all fours, Crabannan atop him as with Matrim before. Both men knew that this was a position from which either wrestler could take advantage depending on who was quickest, and surprise of surprises, Harreld took initiative.

He immediately grabbed Crabannan's hand which was on his midriff, and rolled to his right, and stopped, with Crabannan partially on his back and Harreld's back on top of him. Crabannan knew that working against momentum was a sure way to lose, so he tried to roll through the spin, but Harreld splayed out and weighed him down so much that he found himself on his back. Lithor came in to count to three, but before he could get past "one", Crabannan got off one shoulder and slid as slippery as a fish onto his stomach beneath Harreld; which could not have happened unless Harreld had been on his back. All of these motions had moved them within two strides of the edge. Harreld saw this and began to shove Crabannan toward the edge. Crabannan was bigger and more lithe than either of Harreld's last two opponents, and would not be moved by sheer force.

Nothing happened for minutes as both men strove to hold their own position and not give any advantage to his foe. As time wore on, the greater strength of Harreld began to tell, and Crabannan found himself moved inch by slow inch toward the edge. He gritted his teeth and decided that he must take a risk.

to be continued.....

[littlemanpoet]

Crabannan took a risk. He had had plenty of time to think about what to do, and had settled on the only thing that he thought might work. There were two feet between his nose and the edge of the ring. It wasn't much space, but it would have to do. He forced himself up to his hands and knees, pushing all of Harreld's weight upward, still on top of him. The risk with this move was that all Harreld needed to do was push Crabannan forward and that much closer to the edge. On the other hand, Crabannan, if he could take the initiative, could from this position, grab Harreld's arm and roll him out of bounds. He grabbed for Harreld's arm. He missed. Harreld pushed. Crabannan was shoved forward, and across the line. Harreld had won.

A shout and a hollar went up and applause for both wrestlers, for the match had been a grueling one and a good one, between the obviously two best wrestlers in Scarburg, and perhaps in the whole Middle Emnet, or at least so said Eodwine proudly.

Harreld pushed himself to his feet, as did Crabannan. Harreld spoke first, smiling. "Well fought, friend. You are the best I have faced, and I deem it was just as much a matter of luck that you had the worst of it in the end." He held out his hand to Crabannan in an offer of sportsmanship.

[Groin Redbeard]

Lithor, stood watching the wrestelers with crossed arms. He had never seen a match this intense and was glad when Harreld secured his victory less something go wrong: a dislocated shoulder or a broken arm were not all too uncome when the players get carried away.

"A well fought match wouldn't you say Wilcred?" he asked the old soldier.

"Indeed, I have never seen a man who could stand more than eight seconds in the ring with our Harreld, that Crabanna has a few tricks up his sleeve."

"Aye, if I were younger I might take him up on a few pointers to teach me, but I'm afraid that all I'd get out of it is sore limbs and an aching back." The two chuckled and looked at the contestants, who were by now gathered around the two victors (although Harreld had won, Crabanna was held first place for the best effort).

"I'll be back in a minute Wilcred."

"And just where do you think you are going? We need to start setting up for the next contest."

"Oh I'll be back in time to help, no fear about that, but I have a little business to take care of before then." and with that Lithor headed off to find Erbrand.

Erbrand

"What's wrong with you Matrim?" Erbrand asked in an amused voice, "you let Crabannan take you on a whim!"

"Beginners luck, I let him take me down. Besides," Matrim was now addressing Balvir, "it is not as easy as it looks."

"You really should have taken me up on my offer," said Balvir, "that mock of a match between you and Crabannan who have amused the highest court in the land." Balvir laughed loud at his joke, but Matrim followed him insisting that Balvir give it a try as well.

Dan was sitting down not far from the wresteling ring by himself when Erbrand approached him.

"My friend,well done! I must say you had me excited for a couple moments when you nearly tipped Harreld out of the ring. It was nothing more than bad luck that put you against the toughest man in Scarburg, if it were any lesser man I'm sure you would have won."

[littlemanpoet]

Saeryn had had enough rest by the time the wrestling matches were to begin. She, Rowenna, Eodwine, and Degas walked over with Garstan to take in the action.

"Who will win, Degas?" asked Eodwine.

"I know not, though I think Crabannan seems a likely one."

"I will wager my smith to win. Two Eorls against Crabannan."

"Done!" said Degas. Others offered their two Eorls for their own favorite wrestler, and soon there was a tidy little pot which Eodwine, who was reasonably good at numbers, cheerfully rendered into 1st and 2nd place prizes. Most of the wagers centered around Harreld and Crabannan.

"Poor Dan," said Erbrand sadly to Kara after Dan's bout with Harreld, "he never had a chance against that giant Harreld."

Crabannan overheard the comment. "He really didn't. Harreld is simply too big and strong."

"Too big for you?" Erbrand challenged.

"We shall see," Crabannan smirked.

While Harreld and Crabannan rested before their final match, the losers of the previous rounds added their wagers to the pot.

"I wager Crabannan will win!" Garstan declared with a shake of his head. "He is canny!"

"Crabannan may be quick of hand and foot," replied Dan, "but the smith has such strength as to best the quickest! I'll place my wager for the smith!"

"My coin is on Crabannan," said Erbrand. "That man is too shifty and determined to lose."

The match was underway.

"Go Harreld, Go!" cried Thornden. "I hope the smith wins," he said with a grin.

When the final match was done, the all gave the two wrestlers a well deserved round of applause. But then Eodwine frowned. Though he had wagered on Harreld, enough of the others had also, that the winning was a mere two for one, and he got only four Eorls for the two he had placed in the pot.

"At least you won!" Degas cried. "I will have my coin back before this day is done. You are winning too much of my gold so far, Eodwine!"

"You will have your chance, my friend," Eodwine grinned.

Saeryn shook her head to Rowenna. "Men and their wagers," she said. Rowenna laughed.

[Folwren]

Saeryn chuckled, her eyes bright with merriment, and she addressed Degas. “You should stop wagering against Eodwine, Degas,” she said. “He’s won every wager so far this day! And if you keep it up against him, you’ll have no coin with which to manage your affairs back home!”

Degas smiled, but didn’t answer. He probably fully intended to make at least one or two more wagers that day. Saeryn stepped towards him with a question she had wanted to ask before the wrestling had begun.

“Are you really leaving as soon as tomorrow? You only arrived today.”

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Yes, darling," he said, watching the others, and speaking quietly, "I must. I came here to ask Eodwine if he had heard news of you only: I would not have come elsewise. But you are here, and safe, and I am satisfied that you shall remain so, so I mustn't linger. Our people need me rather more than I am needed here."

Saeryn's joke about the depth of Degas's purse stung, though she had not meant it to. But this he kept from her, so as not to quench her merriment. He did not know the state of things at home, and he had little money of his own. There had perhaps been looting. The hold would be tantalizing to thieves and brigands, in a state of disarray and without a lord to lead the people. The very people who overthrew Fenrir may have helped themselves to his coin. Or, as Degas believed, Fenrir had been none too careful with the coins himself in his last days.

Regardless, Degas's faith in the assets of the Folde was weak. The morning would come all too soon, and he would need to speak with Linduial, to inform her of what had transpired, to learn her mind. And then he would need to enter his lands once more, to claim his lordship, and to rebuild both homes and trust.

"Yes," he repeated, "I must leave tomorrow. To wait shall only make my task more difficult. Is there anything you would have me do before I depart?"

[Groin Redbeard]

There was a sudden tapping on his shoulder, and Erbrand turned around to see the beaming Lithor with his empty hand outstretched as to recieve something. Erbrand made a face of dissaproval and dug his hand into his pocket, retrieving his copper which he had won that morning from lord Eodwine. Lithor laughed and closed his hand around his copper as it was placed in his palm.

"I don't usually gamble, Erbrand," he said, "but I am no fool and can see when there is easy money to be made. Your man didn't make it through the first round." he laughed again and shook Erbrand on the shoulder as if the motion would cause him to laugh as well.

'Aye, but he held his own for a little while. Just wait 'till the sword duels, Dan will more than hold his own."

"Sword duels are tricky, even when in sport, and the loss of an ear or finger is not too uncommon. Still, you are right when you say that the Drudian will hold his own, and I daresay that that character Crabannan will show us some more of his tricks when that time comes." They both looked over to where Crabannan was, shaking hands and accepting the congratulations of the entire camp.

"Magnificent outhere, wasn't he?" asked Lithor, his face pointed towards Crabannan but his eyes shifting to glance at Erbrand.

"Yes, I must admit that for awhile I was rooting for him. I can expect a worthy challenge from him later on in the duels."

Lithor shot a worried look over at his friend. He recognized that determined look in his eyes from when he was young. It was a look that had cost him pain and heartache to that day and he eyed Erbrand with an unusually stern expression.

"Be careful what you do, my friend," said Lithor, "pride has hurt and killed more men than hunger and war ever will." Erbrand looked back up at the guard who was by no means amused.

"I can handle myself with him, although he may beat me, he will not harm me. I am stronger and just as quick witted as he is, this should even out the odds against me. Besides, I have something else planned for later tonight, so I shall be extra careful about him. You need not worry about me, Lithor."

"You know your own talents best." Lithor remarked simply and after thanking him went to set up the targets for the archery contest, tossing his coin as he walked.

Erbrand looked around him. Everyone seemed to be busy with something, Degas was talking quietly to his his sister Saeryn and Eodwine was chatting with some other people, probably trying to pursuade them to accept his gamble in another game, but Erbrand could not tell what they were saying, and he walked briskly back to camp for his bow.