Scarburg Meadhall

[Folwren]

This was bordering on absurdity. The man was getting jealous for no reason. Thornden had no thought of fulfilling Erbrand’s wants - he wasn’t going to cease speaking and being a friend to Kara because Erbrand was selfish, and the sooner Erbrand realized it, the better.

“Ideas?” Thornden said. “Ideas about Kara? Man, if I were going to fall in love with her, it would have been long before you came around. Listen,” he said, when Erbrand made an impatient and slightly threatening movement, “I have no intentions whatsoever in the form of matrimony towards Kara, and I respect her far too much to make any advances otherwise, as you well know. I resent the fact that you would even think as much. But putting that aside, let me give you a piece of advice. Kara doesn’t want you fighting over her like a spoiled little boy, and the more you quarrel with people - anyone, including Crabannan, but especially lord Eodwine and myself - the less likely she’ll be to accept you when your chance comes to ask her. If you’ve really waited as long as you think you have, don’t ruin it by making a fool of yourself.”

[Folwren]

Since seeing Degas and Eodwine walk off together, Saeryn had not had a chance to speak to either of them, although she had seen them, and competed against Eodwine, since they had returned. They had stood together and cheered and laughed as the sack fight was battled out, and now it was over, Eodwine turned and asked her to walk back to their seats with him.

Saeryn looked up at him and flashed a broad smile at him. They turned and started slowly to walk towards the chairs. In her mind’s eye she saw Erbrand and Kara embracing, and Harreld and Ginna watching at a little distance, holding hands. She glanced at Eodwine and thought about how much she wanted to touch him, if only to hold hands.

At the same moment, he looked in her direction, and must have seen the odd glancing look. “What?” he asked, smiling.

“Nothing!” she said. “I was just thinking how wonderful, if not slightly odd it is, that since coming to Scarburg your people have seemed to find their mates!”

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Not just his people," Degas interrupted, approaching from behind. "Remember that it was in Eodwine's halls that I met my Linduial as well. Perhaps it is something in the water."

He departed with a smile to find Nain, though Degas's smile waned as he searched for the Dwarf. His conversation, though he liked the Dwarf enough for casual geniality, was intended for business.

He found him, as he often did, seeking invisibility a little apart from the crowd. Nain's eyes were fixed on Erbrand, and were unreadable.

"Friend," Degas asked, "might I borrow you for a time?"

[Formendacil]

Náin's long day grew longer as the games dragged on, and although the soothing taste of ale mellowed his disposition slightly, it was also making him less alert, which irritated him insofar as he noticed it. He was glad of a distraction, therefore, and becoming more so as he heard what he thought was Erbrand telling Thornden off for assisting Kara.

This would have irked the Dwarf at the best of times, and he muttered to himself that it was lucky Erbrand was speaking so to Thornden rather than himself, because the trapper might find himself cleft in two. Náin had avoided the games not only because of basic Dwarven disinterest, but also because of the artificial nature of the contests. As a Dwarf, there could be no reasonable competition with a Man, and long centuries of experience had taught Dwarves not to engage in it. If the Dwarves won, Men tended to dislike them and alliances were not strengthened, and if Men won, they tended to respect Dwarves less and try to take advantage of them. Even with this being the case, however, Náin was reasonably confident that Erbrand would not have lasted long under the threat of his axe, and took another mouthful of ale, muttering the more about fool humans.

It was hardly his place anyway, he thought, to bother defending the honour of Kara or disabusing Erbrand of whatever notions he may have--a Dwarf would not make a seemly champion for a human maiden--but he admitted to himself that, on the basis of one day's acquaintance, he wouldn't mind at all if Thornden taught Erbrand a lesson and the trapper left Kara alone. Náin was fond of Kara's company, and did not look favourably on Erbrand's presence.

Such were the thoughts rumbling through his tired mind when Degas came up and addressed him.

"Friend," Degas asked, "might I borrow you for a time?"

"Aye," replied Náin. "Provided you do not intend to push me into the remaining competitions, I am at your service."

[Groin Redbeard]

Several of Thornden’s words struck a chord of remorse in Erbrand. He now realized that he shouldn’t have exploded at the soldier, which surely would not have prompted his scolding. Though for the most part Thornden was just in his tie-raid, Erbrand still resented the fact that the man laughed at him and thus prompted his heated response and then in turn prompted Thornden’s scolding of Erbrand for doing so. Doing the best he could, Erbrand restrained his intentions of striking the man across the face, and tried to respond as civilly as possible.

“Your words cut deep Thornden,” Erbrand said, forcing the words out with an effort. “Though I am sorry for raising voice against you, I am not regretful of my approaching you. As much as you have told me, you have no feelings toward Kara. Then why this magnificent speech, as if prepared or rehearsed on another, for such an occasion? Therefore, I repeat my threat: stay away from Kara!”

Erbrand was not yelling, but his words held enough weight and venom in it to cause Thornden to spring to his feet, ready to fight if it was the trapper’s choice. Erbrand had been straining himself to hold back a dam of anger he was feeling at the moment, and this caused the dam to break.

“I also thank you for your kind opinion of me,” Erbrand said in mock appreciation. “While it might be proper for soldiers of the eorl to insult a man to his face, it is not so where I am from. You, sir, are no less a fool as I am, not fit to put judgement on others.

“I will also thank you to keep your nose out of my private business,” Erbrand continued with outward disdain and pointing his finger at the younger man as if it were a weapon that he could stab Thornden with. “The affairs of Crabannan and I are no concern of yours, the events of this morning were unknown, as far as I knew. Have the lord Eodwine’s soldiers sunken to eavesdropping over their subject’s doings, or send their brats to obtain information for them? Your words of correction are haughty and befit a royal cub, are you also to subjugate my actions as well as my allegiance? Handle your situations in a way that you think best, but do not think of lording your advice over me again. Thornden might be chief of soldiers here at Scarburg but he is not a wise ruler of men, as is your superior. You may command my allegiance, but you cannot command my conscience and I tell you that I will not yield that right to any man, not to you, not to the eorl, not to the king himself!”

“Insolent wretch!” Thornden hissed under his breath, now as ready as Erbrand to start the fight, which had miraculously delayed itself so far.

“There is nothing I would like better than a fight with you, Thornden, and if not for the presence of so many people I would feign have already started one. I am sure that a “noble” such as yourself would not think of doing such a thing,” Erbrand wanted to wound Thornden’s pride, as Thornden had done to him, with these last words, seeing how ready the soldier was to fight. “But see, even now Lithor stands ready to begin the staff-fight. So I shall wait to face you in the games and deal a good manny damaging blows to you before I am sure to be bested by your superior skill.”

[Nogrod]

"Now hear, hear!" Lithor called the people who had spreaded around the one-time-to-be front-yard after the sackfight. "The quarterstaves have been brought forwards and the battlefield has been marked... Hear, hear! The next game is about to begin!"

Lithor gazed around and saw people gathering around while some others seemed still to be busy with their discussions.

"Let me call forwards the caretaker and the judge of the competition... Wilcred!"

There were applauses as the veteran soldier came forwards and turned to face the gathering crowd.

"Now my friends, Lithor here has other duties so I have been chosen to represent the authority around here. And my word will be the final word indeed."

Wilcred wasn't basically the entertainer or the smooth-talker but when faced with a duty he took pride in performing it well.

"So let me remind you of the rules", he started as people were pouring in around the flagged square the fight would take place. "Security first. Any deliberate hits on the head of an opponent will lead to an immediate elimination of that contestant. And if someone hits another to the head because of negligence or thoughtlessness, that contestant will be eliminated as well. The decision as to when that is the case is solely mine."

Wilcred looked around to see that everyone understood even if he thought a few of the contestants hadn't yet arrived. But he continued nevertheless. "Also anyone straying outside the fighting area is eliminated from the game. We have keen eyes reporting on that!" With it he pointed to the youngsters who were situated at the cornerpoles. The crowd gave a cheer to them.

"It should go without saying that if someone gives up or is knocked down so that he can't rise up in decent time he is eliminated from the game. But as we are having a friendly game and not any brutal death-match, three clean hits to the body will suffice for elimination of a contestant as well - if someone is able to take three hits in the first place without surrendering." Some people thought Wilcred was smiling at that point but it was hard to say.

"And anyone hitting an opponent who is down will be not only eliminated from the game but will face a further punishment from me - and I believe from all the other contestants, collectivily! Just remember the chivalric conduct in the middle of the fight. There will be bruises but let's not injure anyone. If you are in a position to deal a decisive blow to your opponent who is down just call it." Wilcred felt stupid to voice the last one but there were so many new people around both in the ranks of the men at arms and others he just felt a need to make the point.

"Could I have the contestants here then?"

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine

Eodwine and Degas had returned just in time for the sack fight. After they had cheered together with much laughter throughout, they walked side by side to the chairs they had occupied before, to wait for the quarterstaff competition. She had looked at him with a curious glint in her eye - one of the many things that had always kept him interested in her - and he had asked with a single word what was on her mind. Saeryn said, “I was just thinking how wonderful, if not slightly odd it is, that since coming to Scarburg your people have seemed to find their mates!”

"Not just his people," Degas interrupted, approaching from behind. "Remember that it was in Eodwine's halls that I met my Linduial as well. Perhaps it is something in the water." He departed with a smile before either of them could offer a retort.

"Nothing odd about it," Eodwine commented as they took their seats. "Here we have many unattached young men and women. What could be more natural than likely couples emerging? But yes, not only wonderful, but very promising. What I'm wondering is, what of Thornden? He seems a likely up and comer, and yet know lass seems to be quite the fit for him, nor he for her, whoever that might be.

"But just between you and me, I think that if our smith had not gotten such a fire lit in his heart for Ginna, I would have expected that she'd make a good match for our Thornden. What think you?" Before Saeryn could answer, the quarterstaff fight was announced and Eodwine was called upon to take his spot . "My apologies," he bowed, "I must be off. Cheer me on!"

Rowenna

Rowenna had watched Degas return with Eodwine from their private walk. She had wanted to speak to Degas again, but the sack fight grabbed everyone's interest and she let the matter be. When it was done, Degas moved quickly in the wake of Eodwine and Saeryn, then passed them by in pursuit of some unknown quarry. She sighed. Her words with him would have to wait. She kept an eye out for him as the games continued.

Harreld

Harreld laughed long and loud at the outcome of the sack fight, certainly not at Erbrand, but at the sheer spunk of Kara for pulling out the unexpected victory the way she did it. But upon second thought, he guessed that he would have fared no better had it been he and Ginna. "I dare say," he said to her, "that you would have caught me in the same way."

Ginna offered a smiling response, but her words were lost to Harreld's hearing by a sudden outburst before them. Erbrand and Thornden were exchaning hard words. Harreld frowned. He heard Kara's name bandied about by both of them.

"This is not good," Harreld said. "What ails the two of them?"

Then they both heard the now oft repeated threat from Erbrand: 'stay away from her!'

"It seems I must change my words. What ails Erbrand? But I have my answer already." He kept his answer in his head, however. He counted Thornden a good friend, though they did not get much chance to talk. The almbudsman was stout and true, and his courtesy was boundless. This Erbrand was behaving like a drunken lout. That Harreld also kept to himself. Then again, Harreld had seen his brother Garreth behave often enough like a drunken lout, but always comical. This was not comical at all. Harreld's brows lowered and he disengaged his hand from Ginna's.

"Excuse me, my lass, I must stand by the side of my friend." If Ginna offered words of support or fear, he gave no regard. He strode forward, glowering, and stood as tall and dour as he knew how not a yard behind, silently glaring at Erbrand.

[Folwren]

Thornden heard a step behind him, but he didn’t turn. His attention was locked on Erbrand. This had passed the act of folly stage. Erbrand’s words were intentionally insulting and meant to light any temper however mild. Thornden’s eyes flashed angrily, but he kept his mouth shut and made no movement whatsoever.

Behind him, a voice spoke out dangerously. “If you deal him treacherously in the games, once he’s bested you, I’ll do it again.”

Erbrand looked beyond Thornden at the speaker, his eyes sending sparks. “He may need your help anyway,” he said. Harreld moved forward swiftly, closing in on Erbrand with an unmistakable look on his face.

Thornden turned and interceded. “No, Harreld! Not here and not now.” He dragged him back by his arm and Harreld gave way. Thornden turned again to Erbrand. “You are mistaken, Erbrand, in what I said. I can not see what your intent or your fear is here. I will not fight you. Not now, and unless chance puts us together in the contest without possible avoidance, I will not fight you there, either. Now let’s go, and let’s not hear any more of this.”

[Eönwë]

The last few contests had not been good for Dan. He had not done as well as he had hoped.

First of all, there was wrestling. He might have stood a chance against some of the competitors but for his first round, he had to face a giant man, one who also happened to be the strongest in the camp. During his stay in the camp, he had had a few conversations with Harreld the smith and he struck Dan as a kind, gentle man. But from the first time he saw him, Dan had said to himself, I wouldn't like to get into a fight with this man. And now he was doing just that. To most he was tall, but to Daghan-turi-Dan, a mere Druadan, he was huge. As they entered the ring, it was obvious who would win. Being quicker and more agile, and dodged and swerved and managed to avoid being pushed out of the ring for a surprisingly long time. But then the inevitable came, and Harreld, with his far superior strength and weight pushed him past the centre. Dan managed to escape, but not for long, and he was dragged out of the ring. He had been no match for Harreld. No-one in this camp was a match for Harreld, he thought to himself. He was like a one-man-battering-ram. And it turned out that Dan was right, as Harreld beat Aethelstan, his next opponent, and went on to win the final.

Then, Dan had lost one of the two contests that he had hoped he would do well at. He was not as good at archery as he was spear-throwing, nevertheless he had high hopes. In the first round, he thought he had shot well, but for some strange reason, Lithor didn't check his arrows. Dan was too polite to say anything, and didn't want to complain on such a fine day as this, so he just continued as if nothing happened, though his mood wasn't as bright as before.
In the second event, he hit the target, but reprimanded himself for only hitting the outer ring. The only ones to get such a low score were the boys. No matter- there was still one event left to go.
On the third and final event, he managed to hit the target on the first round, but on the second he was eliminated along with a sulking Crabannan. He hoped he hadn't made too big of a fool of himself. He was probably just having an unlucky day.
He had suspected this would happen, but he was still surprised when Erbrand won all three. He was a fine marksman.

Then there was the sack-fight. The first round was probably the best event of the whole day. It was fun, and the crowd loved it. After a full ten minutes, Dan managed to secure a win by a whisker. They had fallen together and Stigend had hit the ground barely a moment before Dan. Harreld and garstan called for a rematch, and the crowd was cheering. To be, Dan wouldn't have minded to do it again, even if it meant losing his place as winner. However violent it probably looked to the crowd, all the hitting didn't hurt at all. But Lithor was adamant, and to be honest, he was happy with his win, and probably wouldn't be so lucky if he did it again.
For the next round, he had had to face Erbrand. He had seen his bold move in the last match and was ready for it. And Erbrand could see the determination in Dan's eyes. Whatever the result, they would part as friends, just as always. He wasn't using this to seek approval, unlike some here. He shot a quick sideways glance at some of the shadier members of the camp. In the end he gave Erbrand a blow that sent him falling. He looked towards Lithor for a second, expecting him to.... when suddenly Erbrand lashed out with his legs, sending Dan toppling off the pole. Erbrand then fell beside him. A smile broke Dan's lips- he should have expected something better. It then turned to a quiet chuckle, as he realised that Erbrand would battling against Kara next, and the thought amused him.

And then it was the next contest, the quartestaff-fight. As soon as he saw the size of the weapons, and felt their weight his heart sank. He have been strong for his size, but these were just too large and unwieldy. He preferred the speed of an axe or the elegance of a sword. And to make matters worse, he was teamed up with Crabannan. He hadn't liked the Northener since the first day, and had never really warmed up to the suspicious character. But then he realised that he had an advantage, Crabannan was tall and strong, and experienced in weapons of all shapes and sizes. After Crabannan finished off Osmund, Dan was soon out, though not without hitting Aethelstan once. Crabannan managed to finish off Aethelstan. He felt like hugging him, but that sort of sentiment among men was not generally accepted in this part of the world, except among close friends.
The next game wouldn't be so easy. They would have to face the veterans. He knew that they had something up their sleeves and it came as no surprise to him when they switched targets unexpectantly. But he was too slow to react, and he was hit. He tried to hit Balvir but he couldn't get enough leverage, and ended up swinging wildly, unbalancing himself. Then he was hit in the chest by Lithor, who had manoevered himself around and was now attacking him. They had switched targets. Dan flew back from the force of the hit. As he touched the ground he was hit again by Lithor. That just wasn't right, he thought as he lay there. It just wasn't right to hit people while they were down. Dan instinctively lashed out, hitting something soft, and only after a few seconds realised that he had hit the worried Lithor in the face. He tried to murmur an apology to Lithor but he was nowhere to be seen. When he had returned to full awareness he realised that Lithor was lying next to him, seemingly unable to stand. He wanted to help him up but didn't want to let Crabannan down. And as he thought of Crabannan he saw the man fighting a fierce fight with Balvir. And just as Balvir was about to be hit for the final time by Crabannan, Crabannan himself was hit from behind. He fell. Balvir and Lithor had won. The crowd cheered.

He helped Crabannan up and then, after the excessive cheering had finished, went to apologise to Lithor. "I am sorry, Lithor," he started "I didn't mean to hit you, but..." he trailed off, hoping that Lithor would understand.

[littlemanpoet]

The old man having gotten more than a scrap of meat from the unusually quiet cook, he wandered off toward the source of all the commotion he had heard from the road.

It was a quarterstaff fight. The crowd was cheering and seemed to be mostly relaxed, which meant that it was apparently all in fun. Well enough.

He could not tell which of them was the lord of the settlement by his clothing, and so made his way to just he outside of the crowd, where there were four chairs placed, two young women sitting there, speaking quietly to each other. Just as he was about to clear his throat and speak, they jumped up and hurried toward the games.

The old man shrugged with a grin and a twinkle in his eye, and made his way to the outside of the crowd, to see what he could see. So far, none had taken notice of him. He watched and waited.

[Nogrod]

“Please people, please!" Wilcred tried to cool the roaring crowd for he had some announcing to do. But all the people seemed to know already what he was going to announce and it seemed futile to fight against it. But he still tried. "Let me give you the second runners up! Let me give you Harreld and Erbrand against Thornden and lord Eodwine!”

The crowd burst into cheers - if they hadn't already - as the competants walked into the flagged area. Thornden and Eodwine exchanged still a few final words when Harreld and Erbrand were clearly already focusing on the fight.

“Go! … Ah, sorry…”, with that Wilcred blew the horn. It was the go. He was clearly not up to the task.

It looked like Erbrand was really yearning to go for Thornden but the two soldiers had clearly decided the other way. Erbrand ran for Thornden but Eodwine stepped between the two keeping himself between them even if Erbrand tried to counter his moves. Meanwhile Thornden made it from behind Eodwine to attack Harreld.

Harreld had looked at the peculiar dance and decided to make his move. Looking at the determination with which lord Eodwine covered Thornden from an attack by Erbrand he decided to make one himself. With a tremendous roar he went on after Thornden dealing a blow that would have stunned a wild boar but Thornden ducked the hit and turning around faster Harreld could imagine he managed to deal a blow to Harreld’s back sending him stumbling forwards.

“One hit against Harreld!”, Wilcred called and the people applauded.

Meanwhile Erbrand had settled with the facts and started seriously engaging Eodwine in a fight no longer searching for routes to get after Thornden. Erbrand proved to be a valiant staff-wielder as Eodwine only hardly managed to duck the shots aimed at him – and he dealt nicely with Eodwine’s counter moves. It looked like an even match between the two; lord Eodwine being clearly the technical master and tactician but the younger leatherman was quick and agile, able to parry and energetic enough to make lord Eodwine stay on alert all the time.

Suddenly the crowd went “Uuuuhhh!” And there was a reason for it. For while Harreld was going down he managed somehow to turn himself around while speeding his way down and to use the momentum of his body turning around to give a wild blow against Thornden. But Thornden was no newcomer in these fights and saw it early enough to just drop on his knees. The sweep of Harreld’s staff missed Thornden’s head and just blew his hair as he ducked down. That was close indeed. Harreld had clearly aimed at Thornden’s torso but his sudden evasive action had made it dangerous. But there was no harm done.

“No harm intended! Fair game!”, Wilcred called to underline the point. “But be careful out there!”

On his knees Thornden landed a blow to Harreld’s back leaving him face to the ground stunned for a moment. Panting Thornden stood up and pointed the tip of his staff on Harreld’s neck. “Call!”

“Harreld called out!” Wilcred confirmed. There were loud cheers of relievement.

Thornden turned to look at lord Eodwine fighting Erbrand. It looked like an even match. Slowly he crept towards the fighting duo. It somehow felt wrong to just hit Erbrand from behind. Thornden hesitated.

Suddenly Eodwine halted. Erbrand halted as well.

“You wish to continue Thornden? I’m quite old for going on too long this good a fight…” Eodwine addressed Thornden over Erbrand’s shoulder and smiled to his second in command. “With your leave, my lord…”, Erbrand needed no more encouragement but had manners enough to bow quickly to lord Eodwine before he went to Thornden. And the two were on each other.

If lord Eodwine’s and Thornden’s fight had been a good one, the one between Thornden and Erbrand really was one. The audience felt there were real energy and a battle of wills going on as well. Everyone was looking on and living with every blow given and parried. And they both really gave the audience the best they could.

Erbrand found new energy and performed some great improvised combo’s of attacks on Thornden but the experienced soldier parried the attacks if not with ease then with some confidence anyway. But Erbrand really pushed the limits and soon Thornden realised this was not something he could manage half-hearted. Erbrand was challenging him and he did it most fervently. Thornden had to fight this for real too.

The crowd went “Uuhhs!” and “oohhss!” all the time as the two dealt blows and parried one’s dealt by the other one. Lord Eodwine stood still, watching the fight with the crowd but just a few feet away.

Finally, after the most aggressive attacking maneuvers by Erbrand Thornden got the upper hand from a most unlikely situation. Being sent to his knees and only parrying from behind – just sweeping the staff blindly towards Erbrand – Thornden managed to unbalance Erbrand. And before anyone could realise he had turned himself around and made a full blow to Erbrand’s knees sending him falling. Before Erbrand had time to adjust himself to the new situation he felt a tip of a staff on his neck.

“Call!”

It was lord Eodwine who called the match, the tip of his staff on Erbrand’s throat now as Erbrand had turned around while lying on the grass.

“Lord Eodwine and master Thornden will go to the finals!” Wilcred announced. The crowd cheered even louder than before. As if they hadn't already shouted their throats sore for the games...

[Folwren]

The fight with Erbrand was not easy. Thornden had sparred with fellow soldiers of greater skill than Erbrand, but he had not fought someone who had been insulted and was angry. Erbrand’s strokes were full of ill intention and he rained them as thick and fast as he could.

In truth, Thornden had only taken the fight from Eodwine half heartedly. He had not truly wished to fight Erbrand thus, but for the sake of the games, he had accepted Eodwine’s offer.

The last blows came. Thornden, with some luck involved, brought Erbrand down. He had a moment to try to scramble to his feet to try to gain the advantage, but suddenly Eodwine called the final stroke.

Thornden rose from his knees, panting. He looked down at Erbrand a moment and went forward to offer his hand.

“It was a good fight, Erbrand,” he said, and waited for Erbrand to take his hand, hoping the ill will had passed.

[littlemanpoet]

Flush with his draw - for he had offered it instead of holding out for victory - Eodwine grinned and thoght to himself that now was the time for his plan to unfold. He handed his quarterstaff to Thornden and moving toward Saeryn took thought for his purpose.

But Stigend came up, his face full of consternation.

"Lord! There is an old man here," he indicated behind him with a glance, "who asks for welcome, but he acts strange."

Eodwine looked at the man who smiled and nodded in silent greeting. "How so?"

"I questioned him for I did not trust him right off, and he offered me this mallet here-" Stigend produced it for Eodwine's inspection.

"It seems well made."

"Aye, that it is, if you can call it that, but I tell you I saw him empty handed and then next thing he's holding up this mallet, offering it in exchange for my welcome. Natural it is not! See, there's no maker's mark on it."

Eodwine's brow rose. "Does he have a name?"

"He hasn't given me any."

Eodwine had Stigend bring the man to him, who bowed smiling.

"Good greeting. I am Eodwine, Eorl of the Middle Emnet and lord of Scarburg. How are you called?"

"I am called many things in many lands, lord," smiled the man.

[Folwren]

Thornden, Lithor, and Balvir were left amongst all the people who were still cheering and laughing about the matches. They were all being congratulated and slapped on the back and the three of them could not help but join the infectious laughter. Thornen finally shouldered his way through everyone and went to put the two staffs down. He turned about again, wiping his hands on his pants. There was Stigend coming towards him with a stranger.

“Thornden!” Stigend called from several yards away. Thornden nodded.

“Stigend!” He smiled and came forward to meet them. “Who is this?”

“A guest. His name is Eodwemer.” Stigend paused slightly over the name. “Eodwine asked me to bring him to you that he might be welcome.”

Thornden paused one fraction of a moment, wondering why Eodwine had not done what he normally did and make the newcomer welcome himself, but then he looked at Eodwemer and bowed his head. “Welcome to Scarburg, sir.” Eodwemer bowed in reply. “Have you traveled far?”

“Some would call it far,” the old man answered.

“We will find you something to drink, and a place to sit. We are nearing the end of our games, and we can find you a place to watch the last sport.”

[littlemanpoet]

Saeryn laughed nervously. “Of course, I won’t have a proper wedding dress, or anything at all, for that matter.”

Eodwine had expected her to say yes to wedding him, but he was overjoyed that she had agreed to wed him this very day.

"You need no new wedding dress to give you beauty," he said. "And Degas and I have already spoken of dowry and bride price." He explained to her the agreement the two had made. "Of course it needs your yes before it becomes bond, but be at ease, my love."

She nodded happily, the epithet tacked on to the end of his words seeming to have a profound effect on her tear ducts.

He took her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger, then held her other hand and turned to the cheerful crowd as she gazed at the ring as one in her own private world of bliss.

"My friends, my house, my folk!" They cheered. "Saeryn and I shall mold our paths into one and walk life's road together." More cheers. "First we will have the sword fight, and then we will have a handfasting to be remembered!" More cheers. "I need a lord's best man! Thornden! Come over here! I have need of you!"

Thornden strode up, looking pleased to be his lord's chosen witness.

"And Lady Saeryn has need of a bride's first lady. Saeryn," he said, "whom do you choose?"

[Folwren]

It was all happening so swiftly, and so suddenly. Saeryn had not time to think, otherwise she may have answered differently. Now, after she had made her quick answer, she did not want to change it. She did not care if she were married with no huge ceremony! Eodwine did not care if she had no special dress, and that was enough for her!

“Searyn.” His voice sounded like a warm spring day when he spoke her name. “Whom do you choose?” She had to rouse herself out of deep thought and feeling. She looked up and glanced about the ring of people. Ginna, standing by Harreld, was smiling broadly. Modtryth was holding Leoðern so that she could see. Rowenna was half hiding behind people.

“Rowenna!” Saeryn said. She extended her left hand, and the gold flashed in the westering sunlight. “I choose Rowenna as my first lady!” She smiled at her and invited her to come closer.

[littlemanpoet]

She watched as Eodwine proposed marriage to Saeryn. She had suspected that this was coming today. To see his delight in the asking, and hers in the answering, then to see their happiness, served as evidence that she had been right earlier in this day that she had never really had a chance to make him her own. Even as this twinged at her pride, she found that she was smiling and clapping along with the rest of them crowd.

Then Eodwine picked Thornden as his witness, and asked Saeryn who she would pick. Rowenna could feel her heart thud, suddenly fearing that Saeryn would pick her. She hid back in the crowd, hoping that she would not be seen.

"I choose Rowenna as my first lady!"

Her heart sank. The crowd turned to her and cheered. She kept a smile on her face and stepped forward with the help of those near her, prodding her with a hand on the shoulder or back. She looked to Saeryn, who was beaming, and she forced a smile.

She stood next to Saeryn and glanced at Thornden on the other side of Eodwine, and the crowd shouted their approval. She sighed and she smiled, and gave Saeryn a hug. So it must be. She would endure this, not quite sure now why she found it baleful, nor why her heart had been so against it just moments ago.

[Lhunardawen]

At Saeryn's declaration Ginna turned to Rowenna, who stood some way behind her, and cheered along with the crowd. She was a bit surprised that Saeryn did not choose Kara, whom she had known since the days back in the old mead hall, to be her first lady, but from the chat she had enjoyed with the two women (and Harreld) before Eodwine's eventful intrusion, Ginna was able to observe how comfortable Saeryn and Rowenna were with each other. There was no doubt that Saeryn had chosen her first lady well. As Rowenna passed on her way to Saeryn, Ginna gave her an encouraging pat on the back.

Ginna could not help being drawn to Saeryn's face. Her glittering eyes and wide smile exuded such a radiance of joy that Rowenna beside her seemed almost sombre in comparison. Or was she, really? Did Rowenna not want to be chosen? Or did she envy the bride's happiness, longing to be one herself?

Because we're not getting any younger. Ginna knew that both she and Rowenna were a few years older than Saeryn, yet she had beaten them to wifehood. Perhaps Rowenna could not be blamed if her happiness for her friend was tainted with her own sadness. At least Ginna had Harreld, and at this thought she reached beside her for the smith's hand and squeezed it gently. Soon it will be my turn, she assured herself, and released Harreld's hand to clap her hands with increased vigour.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Friend," Degas asked, "might I borrow you for a time?"

"Aye," replied Náin. "Provided you do not intend to push me into the remaining competitions, I am at your service."

"Not at all," Degas assured him. "In fact, the competition around here seems to be at an all time high."

Degas, young and in love, found the tension around him amusing, and spent more time watching the ladies' reactions than the men's posturing.

Finding a seat out of earshot of the others, Degas explained to Nain his problem. At some point long before his birth, Degas's family - or the former lords of his estate - had been friendly with some Dwarves. The nature of the friendship was of a type that while it was common legend that the foundations of several buildings in the Folde were of Dwarven make, no man or woman of the Folde could still remember the names of the Dwarves, or where they had come from, or who was Lord of the Folde when this transaction had taken place.

"So I was wondering," Degas finished, "if you could tell me the likelihood of a group of riotous humans being able to destroy the masonry of Dwarves, if indeed the foundations of my hall were built by the hands of your people. I am trying to gauge, pointless though it may be, the quality of destruction I will find upon my arrival. If the foundations have been destroyed, I must build again, and could use the advice, if not the aid, of a friend with your skills. If the foundations still stand, are they likely to be strong enough to support a new building atop them? Of course, if the foundations of my hall were not Dwarven to begin with, the questions take on a new hue. So I must ask- do your people keep records of such interactions with humans? I am, as you can see, at a loss."

[Nogrod]

“So then mate, what should we do?” Stigend said to Garstan, smiling as he poked him with the tip of his staff.

“I suggest you take that Erbrand fellow as I know Harreld better than you.” Garstan answered.

Neither of them could hold their poker and they burst into laughter.

“How nice of you my friend!” Stigend remarked while still laughing. “So you want to send me into the den of lions while you have a nice afternoon with our friend Harreld, right?” Stigend lifted his eyebrow and flashed an even wider smile.

“I had something like that in mind…” Garstan replied and poked Stigend back with his staff. But then he got a bit more serious. “Anyway, do you think I have a chance of standing up with that Erbrand for more than a minute? I’m no soldier but at least you have been trained to be one in your youth. I have better chances standing up with Harreld as he’s slower than I am and I’m not totally ungraced with robustness either. But gods forbid he manages to give me a full blow…”

“I see what you’re after…” Stigend nodded in approval and landed his hand on Garstan’s shoulder. “Okay, that’s the way we go for it. You wait for Harreld’s mistake and beat him, I’ll try to stand up against Erbrand and then you come and rescue me from him. A deal?”

Garstan gave Stigend his hand. “A deal.” They both smiled again. They knew they stood for no chance but except a miracle.

---

"Friend, though we have a quarrel, we must stand side by side in this game. Let us set aside our differences while we are made allies. What say you?" Erbrand said and looked at Harreld with a confidence-seeking look.

After a second of thought Harreld offered his hand to Erbrand. "Right you are. They are my friends but we'll fight against them this time as that is how it goes. You take Stigend, he's the fast one and the one who knows something about fighting. I will see to Garstan." Erbrand nodded.

They shook hands.

---

“Let me give you Garstan and Stigend against Harreld and Erbrand!”, Wilcred shouted as the four men had gathered inside the flagged area. There were deafening cheers from the crowd. The first match had risen the expectations and these were household names all of them – except Erbrand, but even with his short stay on the Mead Hall thus far he had impressed many people, not the least in these games.


Lure the opponent into a rhythm and then surprise him by breaking it! In his head Stigend heard the words of the old warrior who had taught him in melee-fights when he was a young men-at-arms trainee. He felt he had nothing to lose and charged on Erbrand immediately wishing thus to make the fight between them over and done with as soon as possible. To the opposite of what he had told Garstan - to take care of Harreld and then to come to his aid - he thought their only chance hanged on the possibility he could somehow beat Erbrand and then come to his friend’s aid. It seemed an impossible task but he had to try it.

Stigend charged rhythmically and Erbrand was forced to retreat parrying the blows from Stigend’s attack. Garmund was looking intently at the cornerflag to see whether Erbrand would retreat off bounds. Suddenly Stigend broke the rhythm and halted for a second after a blow, reversing the grip he had on the staff as fast as he could and went on hitting Erbrand from the same direction simultaneously making a full circle himself. But somehow he was not quick enough, or Erbrand was. But the result was that Erbrand managed to parry the hit and unbalance Stigend for long enough to gain the momentum. And to score the first hit while Stigend was reorientating himself.

“First hit against Stigend!” Wilcred shouted while Stigend cursed with pain. Garstan and Harreld were still circling each other walking slowly sideways with a staff’s distance careful not to make any hasty moves and looking each other into the eyes. They knew each other too well to try any foolish tricks.

But at the same time Erbrand turned to attack and Stigend was the one retreating. After a few foreseeable clashes of the staves Erbrand made a forceful swing from right to left which Stigend managed to duck under. But Erbrand didn’t hold the motion of the staff to hit back from the other direction but let his right hand grip loose thus letting the staff go with it’s own momentum alkl the way around his body grasping it from the right side from behind his back. And before Stigend could realise it Erbrand had gotten hold of the staff with both hands – backhanded – and using the initial momentum of the staff going around he aimed at the hollows of his knees from behind.

Stigend fell backwards and the crowd held their breath for the trick they had just seen. Erbrand didn’t waste time but made a quick change of the hold once more turning to deal the final blow on the chest of Stigend who would lie down on his back.

The crowd went “Ooohh!” simultaneously with Erbrand’s astonishment when the tip of the staff hit the empty ground. For Stigend had managed to pull himself up from the ground at the very moment he landed on it making a half somersault backwards. Stunned by the unexpected, Erbrand didn’t manage to use the situation to his advance. But Stigend picked his staff from the ground and hit with full strength Erbrand’s staff into which he was still leaning with his weight. Erbrand lost his balance and Stigend hit him to the back as he went down while rising up himself.

“First hit against Erbrand!”, Wilcred yelled and the crowd went wild even if half of them hadn’t yet come to grips with what exactly had happened. Erbrand hit the ground face down and Stigend raised his staff up in the air ready to make a full blow. But he turned to look at Wilcred first and yelled “Call! I don’t want to hurt him!”

“Call taken! Erbrand is out!” The crowd cheered like there was no limit.


Meanwhile Garstan and Harreld had also gotten into action even if slowly and carefully. Garstan was the first to take initiative and Harreld seemed somewhat reluctant to fight mainly parrying the blows. And Garstan indeed scored a hit quite easily in the beginning.

The crowd was wondering about that at the same time as they tried to follow the much more lively and eventful match between Erbrand and Stigend going on simultaneously.

Those who had noticed there being a sort of bad air between Harreld and Erbrand were sure it was because of that: Harreld would not wish to fight for the glory of Erbrand against his friends; so it was an issue of loyalities. Those who knew there was something between Harreld and Ginna were sure that was because he tried to impress Ginna showing he was not just a brutal force but a gentleman. Then again some thought it was just the fact that he was such a gentle person who didn’t wish to harm his long time friend Garstan even if he was more powerful than him – and there were also those who just thought he was no good in fighting; he was a big man good in his art and heart but not a fighter.

Be what it may, Garstan managed a second hit as well. But that clearly changed things.

The blow Garstan gave hit Harreld to this fingers and from there the staff glided to hit his upper arm – and from there his nose. It did hurt. His nose indeed started bleeding.

“Second hit against Harreld! The hit to the head not intentional!”, Wilcred declared.

Suddenly Harreld changed and started the attack. The blows rained on Garstan who had to back away with every hit. The first hit landing on Garstan’s midriff sent him gasping for air but he managed to pull himself together, taking two more steps backwards and trying to breathe again. Harreld pressed on not giving Garstan a chance to recollect himself fully.

“Out!”, Javan – who was responsible of the nearest corner - called as Garstan backed away from Harreld’s blows over the flagged line.

“Garstan is out!” Wilcred called and the crowd applauded to both contestants.


Stigend had just heard Wilcred announcing Erbrand’s defeat and was trying to compose himself when he heard Wilcred calling Garstan off as well. He turned slowly to face Harreld but Harreld took no time before charging him.

Stigend tried to duck the charge but had no time for it and was plain overrun by Harreld. Stigend fell down to his back and immediately rolled around trying to get away from Harreld but suddenly he felt a heavy weight on his back, and before he had time to do anything a staff was pressing his neck and therefore his face to the ground. Harreld had stumbled over him but had managed to regain his balance and his staff fast enough and was now sitting on his back pressing the staff on his neck.

“Call!” Harreld managed to pant as it had not been an easy thing for him to do – and partly not intentional either. He was breathing heavily.

Wilcred looked at the situation. Stigend could have fought back if it was a question of life and death but here it seemed clear. And Stigend didn’t show any wish to fight any more.

“Stigend is out! … Harreld and Erbrand go through to the next roud!”

The crowd burst with cheers. This had been exciting indeed.

[Nogrod]

“Any ideas my friend?” Balvir asked Lithor as they received their staves.

“Should we try that “change the target” -thing? Or try to keep the line… even if with just two of us it’s a bit hard to make a line.”, Lithor answered smiling at Balvir.

“Let’s try the change. They will not anticipate it, at least in the beginning… If we go through from this there’s no use trying it to lord Eodwine and Thornden anyway. And we should show some military prowess…” Balvir answered dryly but his eyes did smile.

“Let’s go for it mate, like the old times.” Lithor said and patted Balvir on the shoulder.

“Well, they’re no orcs…”, Balvir flashed a wide grin, “But let’s go… and I will take that Crabannan in the end, I’m about his age and you’re old enough to beat that youngster Druadán…”

“And too old to take Crabannan? … I guess you’re right about that. He’s good.” Lithor nodded and looked back on Balvir: “So I’ll fly on Crabannan first, right?”

Balvir shook his head. “I’ll charge Dan and then we change… I mean it’s just a suggestion.”

“And a good one” Lithor nodded. “Let’s go in like soldiers!”

-----

“Darn, soldiers again! But oldies this time…” Dan half protested and half jested to Crabannan.

“It seems they want to test us now doesn’t it? But let’s be careful out there. The young soldiers were skilful but hot-headed. These are of a different class for they have fought in real battles. Trust my word, they are very much harder to win.” Crabannan said in a low voice leaning towards the Druadán. “Keep it simple, keep it straightforward.”

Dan nodded. “Should I take the older one?”

“He might be the more cunning of them… If you could hold the younger one for a moment I might be able to wear Lithor down. A deal?”

“A deal” Dan answered and they shook hands before walking into the flagged area.

-----

“Are you ready for the next round?” Wilcred shouted and the crowd cheered in response. The air was full of anticipation as the veteran soldiers meeting the victorious newcomers promised a good fight.

“I’ll give you captain Balvir and venerable Lithor against the furious Dan and mighty Crabannan! Let the fight be fair but tough!” The crowd burst into applauds and whistling. The mood was high.

Wilcred blew the horn.


When the blow rang it looked like both Balvir and Lithor had been called "Attention!" in a boot camp. They both took a still stance laying their staves upright to the leg.

“Hop!” Balvir shouted and they simultaneously raised their staves up and lowered them then into a 45 degree angle pointing forwards. “Foorwaarrd… march!” Balvir called and they both started marching towards Dan and Crabannan.

“Now what the…?” Dan commented to his side but Crabannan stood still. There were still some five yards between them.

“Ooo-pen!” Balvir called and they both turned the points of the staves outwards forming like a letter V if looked from above. The crowd were cheering.

“Steady Dan, steady…” Crabannan whispered through his lips. “Keep it simple, keep it straight whatever they do…”

It was just two yards between the sides when Balvir finally yelled “Chaaarrge!”.

What happened after that happened just too quickly for most of the audience to grasp – and sadly for Dan and Crabannan as well.

Both soldiers brought their staves forwards and ran diagonally changing places. So Balvir was suddenly in front of Dan even if he had been originally facing Crabannan. Before Dan managed to move he was hit by the staff to the side and he howled in pain. Crabannan saw the move and readied himself to counter the blow by Lithor coming for him. But that blow never came.

Lithor ducked down to the left anticipating the defending blow by Crabannan and rushed towards Dan still inbalanced by the blow by Balvir. Balvir meanwhile took a sharp turn right and instead of continuing after Dan he hit Crabannan - who was still a bit unbalanced after hitting only thin air - from the side straight to his back. But it had been a bit too endearing move and Balvir lost his balance with the hit at the same time Crabannan fell on all fours.

“First hit against Dan… against Craban…!” Wilcred tried to follow the action.

But Lithor made a perfect hit on Dan’s breast as he was trying to adjust himself sending him flying backwards. And Lithor pressed on mercilessly landing a blow to Dan’s chest right as he hit the ground. Dan’s body cramped and shivered and suddenly went still. Lithor was shocked and rushed kneeling beside him in anguish. “Help!” he cried, only to receive a fist on his face from the angered Druadán, sending him backwards to the ground as well.

“Second and third hit against Dan! Dan is out! … And a little out of bounds hit – even if deserved one - against master Lithor as well!” Wilcred cried and people burst in applauds and releasing laughter after all had thought for a fleeting moment that something bad had actually happened.


Wilcred saw his moment of educational enlightenment right there. “So you see youngsters, this is why you were not accepted in this game. This is for the adults.”

Indeed there was no need for him to make the point. The youngsters who had been responsible for checking it out if anyone was going out of bounds were looking at the fights from a very close range – and they were really impressed. If that’s how they fight for fun, what is it for real? Cnebba found himself wondering and he was more than pleased he was not an adult yet… It was just so much more aggressive and powerful anything he and Garstan or Javan ever did. And still the adults seemed to part in friendship after even the fiercest fight. Now there was something he had to chew on.


But a real fight was going on just a few yards away from that scene. Crabannan fell on all fours but was up on his knees before the crowd could realise it. And he didn’t waste time on turning around but going with his instincts he made a powerful backhanded blow aiming behind his back just to where he thought Balvir was. And it was a direct hit to Balvir’s lower abdomen. Balvir yelled in pain and fell backwards while Crabannan rushed himself up.

“A hit against Balvir… a bad hit indeed!” Wilcred shouted and people were drawn to see what would follow as the newcomer bent over the household soldier.

Crabannan went on with the deciding blow but somehow Balvir managed to get back to the here and now and roll away from the down-coming staff. Crabannan only hit the ground just a few inches from Balvir’s side. And before he realised it, Balvir had turned enough to deal him another blow from the ground hitting him hard to his thigh from behind. Crabannan fell on his knees from the impact and they faced each other on their knees just a bit over yard apart.

“Second hit against Crabannan!” Wilcred called and was clearly late with his announcement but that could be forgiven. It was intense indeed as it happened right when Wilcred was being educative towards the youngsters.

The two looked at each other both on their knees. And suddenly they fought… in their knees! The staves hit each other in fury and neither had a chance to rise up. The crowd was just waiting for Lithor to rise up from where he was lying a few yards away from the fighting pair and to end it all but it seemed that the blow Dan had given him to his nose was bad enough not to make him useful for a moment. He was lying down but tried to arise. Somehow his head just felt too dizzy for it.

Meanwhile it soon became clear that even if Crabannan was a great fighter Balvir’s technical skills with the quarterstaff were just superb. Hit by hit Balvir wore Crabannan down, hit by hit he gained the momentum, but every time Crabannan fought back with instinct, luck, sense… what have you. It should have ended a dozen of times but Crabannan held back.

Finally Balvir hit Crabannan’s staff so hard to the left that he lost his balance and Balvir had time to rise up to finish the fight. But to his astonishment Crabannan was up about the same time and his deciding blow into which he had invested all his remaining power met with Crabannan’s staff in mid-air. For a second Balvir thought he had lost it when he stumbled down losing his balance and seeing Crabannan standing upright as he fell. But no hit came on him.

Instead there was a loud cheer of the crowd as Lithor had finally forced himself up and dealt a mighty blow on Crabannan’s back sending him face on to the ground. And Crabannan was totally stunned with the force of the blow. Lithor placed his left foot on Crabannan’s back and lowered the tip of his staff on his neck. “Call!” Lithor yelled.

“Call accepted!” Wilcred cried. “Lithor and Balvir will go to the finals! Cheers for the veterans!”

The crowd didn’t need to be told that. The cheers were ear-deafening. They had seen a spectacular fight indeed.

[Folwren]

Cnebba was, in point of fact, with Garmund and Javan, concealed, as it happened, by some rocks, jutting out from the scar. The boys had sought some privacy to work out the result of their bet, away from the noise and celebration of everyone else.

“Well,” Javan said, with some triumph, digging his hands deep in his pockets and puffing his chest out. He cut directly to business. “I guess that means you’re my slaves for the next week!”

Garmund and Cnebba looked at each other, and Garmund spoke, his eyebrows drawing together. “What are you talking about? The bet was if Thornden lost you’d be our slave for a week.”

“Yes,” Javan nodded. “But Thornden didn’t lose. He won the games.”

“Thornden was hit three times in that last round and was removed from the ring!” Garmund said. By his voice, it sounded as though he couldn’t believe there was any argument on the matter. “Nothing is clearer but that he lost!”

Javan’s hands came out of his pockets and his chest deflated a little as he made an exasperated sigh. “Must I explain everything to you simpletons? Thornden and Eodwine were a team - and if their team won, then it is clear that Thornden is the winner.”

“Their team didn’t win,” Cnebba put in. “It was a draw. Eodwine didn’t fight it all the way out, so even if you think that Thornden being kicked out of the ring isn’t losing, he didn’t win the last fight, so you’re still our slave.”

Javan’s eyes were flashing now. “Eodwine called it a draw because he knew that he would win,” he said fiercely. “Thornden did not loose and I will not be your slave for a week!”

[Groin Redbeard]

When Erbrand returned from camp, he was in better spirits. The anger had been burned out of him and he felt at peace again. Even though Erbrand was feeling at ease he did not forget his threat to Thornden. It was a major blow to his pride and that wound would not easily heal.

He had expected to be late for the sword fights and hurried to across the scar, but upon reaching the other side Erbrand found the group cheering and laughing. Confused, he sought to see what who or what was at the center of all this and found that it was Eodwine and Saeryn. He smiled as he guessed why the group was cheering, but he had to make sure. Quickly glancing around him he saw Kara clapping her hands and cheering enthusiastically.

"Kara, what does all this mean?" he said coming up to her. "Are the eorl and Saeryn to be married?"

[Kath]

Kara had hardly sat down since the end of the sack fight. Throughout all of the quarterstaff battles she was on her feet cheering on all the competitors - though one in particular. She hadn't had a chance to see Erbrand before the fight, there had been too many people clustered around her congratulating her still on the sack fight victory, and when she had seen him he had been talking to Thornden. Assuming that since the two spoke rarely the conversation must be important she had left them to it. Neither had she been able to see him after the fight, and this had concerned her a little. Whether he had won or lost Erbrand had always returned to her side so far and yet now he seemed to have entirely disappeared.

"He cannot feel ashamed of being beaten," she thought as she stretched up on her toes to try and catch sight of him above the crowd, "after all he was against Thornden, a trained soldier. To have got as far as he did is an achievement!"

She had almost made up her mind to go and search for him when Eodwine's proposal and Saeryn's acceptance drove all other thoughts entirely from her mind. The happiness on the faces of those she considered friends warmed Kara's heart, and she dared to hope that one day her happiness might be as certain as theirs seemed to be.

"Kara, what does all this mean? Are the eorl and Saeryn to be married?"

The voice from behind her made Kara jump, but she laughed in recognition even before she turned to see her questioner's face.

"Erbrand!" She cried. "Now where have you been? It must have been an important errand to miss all this excitement." Without waiting for an answer she rushed on. "Yes the Eorl and Saeryn are indeed to be married by the end of the day! A fitting end to the celebrations don't you think?"