Scarburg Meadhall

[Folwren]

"Maybe the Lady Degas is marrying will be willing to make of me a handmaiden while my father's land fetches me a reasonable dowry, kept safe by Degas' lordship. At least, that is what I hope for."

Saeryn nodded and turned away. She felt sad, although she knew that Rowenna spoke after careful thought.

“I wish,” she began, venturing to express her feelings and unsure if it would be quite proper. Rowenna was already struggling with the decision, and if it was right for her to leave, should Saeryn press her otherwise? “I wish you would stay,” she finished. “I’ve always liked you, until our quarrel today, and now that that is behind us and there is nothing more to fight about, it seems that there is nothing in the way between the two of us becoming close friends - best of friends, very soon, no doubt.”

Rowenna did not respond immediately. Saeryn looked at her, and pitied her. She was clearly torn with doubt, unsure of what to do, wishing to go and went wanting so much to stay.

“Rowenna!” Saeryn said, brightening suddenly and sitting up straight in her chair. Rowenna looked up. “Why should you not stay here? Degas will still be lord over your land, won’t he? You said that you could remain in his household as a handmaiden - well, why not stay here with lord Eodwine and I? I can not doubt that our houses are soon to be joined together. I know not how exactly, upon what terms- I’m sure that is why Degas and Eodwine went away and talked this afternoon - but we will be very close and the lords of Scarburg and the Folde will be friends. Why shouldn’t it be that you should stay here as my companion?”

[littlemanpoet]

"Do you mean your lady in waiting?" Rowenna smirked. "For were I to stay, I would be your servant to order about, as much as we might like each other. Or would you raise me above my station and cause me to be the target of envy for all the other women?"

"No, Rowenna! You mistake me!"

Rowenna shook her head, smiling. "Saeryn, you spoke from your heart just now, and I like you the more for it. But I must weigh the choices set before me, seeing down the road how things might go. Still-" she paused and thought "-maybe there is a place for me here."

Her eye caught Scyld, who had unhidden himself as an expert in daggers. So much about that man was hidden, and therefore the more interesting. He held everyone at a distance, as had she until this day. And she would still do so in days to come, for one cannot undo two years in a day. But Scyld was too much like her, and he had a look in his eye sometimes as if there were someone he was thinking of that could not be replaced; someone lost, perhaps, unfindable, and irreplacable. She wondered if it were so. It meant that there was one more way in which this was not where she could be.

"And maybe not," she murmured.

[Folwren]

“Do you mean your lady in waiting? For were I to stay, I would be your servant to order about, as much as we might like each other. Or would you raise me above my station and cause me to be the target of envy for all the other women?”

“No, Rowenna, you mistake me!” Saeryn cried.

"Saeryn, you spoke from your heart just now, and I like you the more for it. But I must weigh the choices set before me, seeing down the road how things might go. Still. . .maybe there is a place for me here."

Saeryn smiled slightly and then, seeing Rowenna lost in reverie, sat back and turned her head away. Her eyes scanned the area. The quarterstaff matches were progressing. She saw Eodwine and Thornden standing near the struggle, leaning on their staves.

“I do believe they’re fighting soon,” she said, half aloud.

“And maybe not,” Rowenna seemed to respond, but when Saeryn looked around at her, she knew instantly that Rowenna had not spoken to her.

“Come, Rowenna!” she said, touching her arm. “Let us go down and watch the matches. Thornden and Eodwine are to fight!”

Rowenna smiled and stood up immediately. "Certainly! I would enjoy to watch this contest."

[littlemanpoet]

The westering sun was a hand's breadth above the flat horizon. The quarterstaff fights were nearing their conclusion as the folk of Scarburg cheered the contestants on.

Those in the baker could hear the cheering and clash of wood against wood over the sound of hissing fat and boiling kettles.

They could not hear the quiet steps, nor see the walker coming out of the woods south of Scarburg, onto the road, and toward the encampment slowly making of itself a settlement.

The walker was hooded and wore a long cloak. Their color could not be told, for both had seen much wear, and seemed a smattering of gray and brown and green all mixed together. His feet were booted in old brown leather. A long gray beard wagged back and forth with each step, and the walker's staff stumped to the ground every other step. His face was hidden, so it could not be seen whether he smiled or frowned.

Then he stopped and looked up. His eyes were bright and sharp beneath bristling brows. He sniffed deer acooking on the breeze and his mouth turned in a small smile.

He started walking again, now bent a little more in the manner of an old man. He entered the encampment and made his way to the baker where he found a woman past her middle years sweating over her cooking.

"Good day, my good woman. Could you spare a scrap of meat for a hungry traveler?"

[Groin Redbeard]

However much he hated the sting of battle it felt good to use the old skills he had learned long ago. It was quite a feeling of exhilaration that he felt as he sat down with Balvir after their match was over. It was like he had scraped the rust off of his favorite sword so that it shone and sparkled in the sunlight, he felt young again and was itching to get back into the fight, but for now he was more than content to watch the tradesmen and soldiers fight it out.

His nose still felt as if it was broken after that blow Dan had dealt him, and although he was sure that it wasn't, the slightest touch would send a sharp feeling of pain shooting through his head and down through his neck. Dan was always a quiet figure, never presuming to speak when not spoken to, very reserved in his opinion; and this made the feisty nature of the Drug in battle all the more startling. Still, Lithor felt no ill feelings toward Dan, it was all in the middle of a fight and the adrenaline was sure to get the best of any man.

Balvir was rubbing his aching abdomen. "I tell you," Lithor said, "my head is buzzing like a swarm of bees. That Crabannan isn't a half bad fighter either, wouldn't you say?" Balvir just stared at him and nodded his head and then went back to massaging his stomach. Lithor laughed and gave the soldier a good slap on the back.


Erbrand

"Right," Erbrand said with enthusiasm, "here our turn is next! Your help was very much appreciated in the last round Harreld, but I'm sure that you will be more than a match for lord Eodwine." Harreld gave him a worried glance, realizing that this meant that Erbrand would go ahead with his threat.

"Same plan as last time then, or do you have you come up with anything better?" Erbrand whispered as Wilcred called their names.