Scarburg Meadhall

[Folwren]

Eodwine did not get better, and conference with the king did not end in satisfaction. Saeryn was torn between feelings of heartbreak and those of frustration and impatience.

“Your majesty,” she said in her last meeting with the king, “It is not necessary that a man and his whole household take the place of Eodwine. He will come back. And in his absence, I will be quite capable of keeping order in the hall!”

“Lady Saeryn,” King Eomer said, “I understand that you are willing to take his place until he returns, with the hope that he will return soon, but none of us know how long his recover will take.” He paused, and Saeryn knew that he almost added something about ‘if he will recover at all.’ She swallowed, but kept her gaze steady on the king’s face. “You. . .you are not in a position to rule in his stead, and Eodwine had no steward capable of taking his place.”

“Thornden is quite capable–”

“He is a young man, and the landlords will not respect him. Nor has Eodwine set him in the place of stewardship. These are the things which will matter when issues arise, as we have seen by what happened with the lords came to your holding earlier this month. No, Lady, I am convinced that I am right. I will choose a man and send him there as quickly as can be arranged.”

Saeryn swallowed her words and her disappointment. She bowed her head and curtseyed low before him. “I thank you, my lord,” she said, and withdrew.

When she came to the house of the healer, more news met her.

“Lady Saeryn, we can do no more for him here,” the Edoras healer said. Saeryn turned her eyes to Æđel.

Æđel gently tried to explain. “We are going to take him to Gondor. . .to Minas Tirith. We hope that. . .we hope that in the Houses of Healing they will be able to s. . .he will get well.”

Saeryn looked from one face to the other and then she stepped between them into the house. She went to Eodwine. She knelt beside him and took Eodwine’s hand. He was not awake. He rarely woke now, and when he did he was so weak he scarcely spoke and took only a little nourishment. Saeryn sat for a long time, holding his hand close to her face, and rocking back and forth in silence. Suddenly her tears sprang forth flowing down her face and over his hand.

“Eodwine! Eodwine! I don’t know what to do! Please come back. Please don’t leave me!” She clung tighter to his hand and hugged it close. “Please don’t go.”

“Saeryn. . .” his voice whispered. She looked up. Through her tears she saw him looking at her. She threw herself to her knees by his side and took his head in her hands.

“Eodwine! The king is going to give your eorlship to someone else! I don’t know–”

“Saeryn,” he said again, and she fell silent. His hand gently caressed her hair. “I love you.” She couldn’t speak. She saw he was slipping away again. She didn’t want to let go. He was looking at her still, but his hand was not moving anymore and his eyes were growing distant. She bent forward to kiss him. His lips responded to her touch and then he was still.

The healers came in. Saeryn stood up and withdrew. They prepared him for his journey and then he was gently lifted into a wain. As she had weeks before, Saeryn stood at the door and watched him be born away.

When he was out of sight, she turned back into the house to pack and prepare to ride back to Scarburg. She sent a message to Balvir and Lithor, telling them when she planned to depart. At the said time, they were there with their horses, fully prepared to go back with her, and together, the three of them rode silently out of Edoras and back towards their home.

[Groin Redbeard]

A hundred arms of the trees were gray and its million fingers silver. In a sky of dark green blue like slate, the stars were bleak and brilliant like splintered ice. All the area around the thickly wooded and sparsely tenanted marsh was stiff with a bitter and brilliant frost. It was a queer morning for anyone to go exploring along the Scar, but on the other hand, perhaps it was worth being explored in the bleak, frozen, early morning.

There was a part in the Scar that rose abruptly out of a broad circle of trees near the end of the marsh, covered in a hump or shoulder of green moss. In this freezing darkness of early winter, one would think that these rocks and trees would be left alone under nobody’s gaze but the ever watching stars. Nevertheless, in the stillness of the stiff air, if one listened carefully, a horse snorted and thumped along its way as one dim rider, dressed heavily for the weather, rode to the glade of trees. In that faint, fading, starlight, nothing could be detected of the man save the noise of the horse.

The rider slowly dismounted and tied the horse’s reigns to a branch. The hunter (for it was obvious that he was one) stealthily crawled upward on his belly across the freezing rocks out into the fading moonlight and the rising dawn, he was in the open and on a clear day he could see for miles. The hunter (not his usual profession, but his for the moment) would often come here in the morning or evening and sit for the better part of an hour, just sitting, waiting, and hoping for the site of some sort of quarry to hunt. The hunter tucked himself behind a boulder and began to scan the horizon and listen.

As you might have guessed, this hunter was none other than Erbrand the leather craftsman. It was the early hours of the morning (in fact it was still dark) and he was doing what he would usually do in the morning, but today there was a special purpose for him coming out here. A few days ago, patiently awaiting the arrival of some game, Erbrand spotted a peculiar footprint in the thawing earth just after sunrise. He knew it not to be his and it so puzzled him that he determined to come to the same spot every day, whether in the morning or evening until his curiosity had been satisfied. Many mornings had passed with nothing to report (not even a single animal to hunt) and today he sat thinking as he always did at this time of day.

The Lord Eodwine had departed early in the month. Sleep was uneasy for him as well as for most of Scarburg—work began early every day. Half of an hour crept past without sight or sound of anything; it gave him time to contemplate on the situation at the Hall. Lady Saeryn was certainly something, he chuckled to himself. She had always seemed gentle when Erbrand knew her as plain ol’ Saeryn, but now she was harder, or more experienced, but whatever it was she had changed. What a remarkable month with the nobles coming and all! Erbrand clenched his fist at the thought of the meeting. He certainly would have liked to have shown them a thing or two about respect, but he was just mere peasantry himself. Trying to show his superiors anything outside of his profession would also have been disrespect, what a fool he would look then! If Lithor were here he would have a thing or two to say, but Lithor had left, he was all alone; well, not entirely. Kara had been exceptionally moody this morning, not at him (Erbrand was careful to stay out of trouble when possible) but in general. Erbrand blamed it on the sudden departure of Lady Saeryn to Edoras. Speaking of departure, it must be near six o’clock and no quarry to speak of—time to head back to the hall and get some work done.

Erbrand slid back down the rocks with nimble care and walked back through the trees to Traveler. Walking beneath the half frozen leaves in the darkness Erbrand heard a rustling. It was similar to the sound of a surprised deer, the way they jump and shift their position a little; Erbrand instinctively dropped to one knee and put a hand inside his quiver, but checked himself: two audible footsteps and then silence. The craftsman’s heart started to race—someone, not something, was there and did not want to be seen. Again out of instinct, Erbrand slid behind a thick ash tree and listened. There was a loud thumping: Traveler digging the grass, impatient to return to a warm stable. Erbrand closed his eyes and strained his ears once again—footsteps to his right. As quietly as possible, he unfastened his quiver, leaned his bow against the tree, and stealthily took off in the direction of the noise. The trees were close together so that Erbrand could see nothing of the stalker, the darkness making each tree look like a frozen phantom. Whoever is here is not trying to run for it! Is he after me? Possibly my horse…

Suddenly, Erbrand felt his legs hit something hard; down he fell on the cold earth. Dirt was smudged on his face as he tried to get up, but a heavy blow on his back brought him face down again. Fight the pain. Don’t let him strike you again! Erbrand rolled face up and saw a man standing over him with a staff raised to strike another blow. Quicker than thought, the craftsman rolled out of the man’s aim and brought himself to his knees. Erbrand gasped for air (the wind had been knocked out of him from his fall and first blow) but he had enough wit to reach into his belt and draw what weapon he had. The moonlight flashed on the cold steel of a very broad hunting knife and the stranger checked his rush. Erbrand held the knife by the blade, ready to throw it, he had done it often enough. The stranger’s eyes lit up with fear for a moment, but soon regained their focus and the two slowly began to circle one another

From what Erbrand could tell in the dark, the stranger was much younger than he was; the man didn’t look much older than eighteen. He was remarkably tall, a full head taller than Erbrand (but it could have been the darkness that made him look large). He was dressed in hazelnut colored clothes and grew his blonde hair long over his shoulders. Erbrand sized the young man up, flipped the knife over in his hand, and rushed at him.

“Back off!” The young man barked as he swung and scored another blow in Erbrand’s side. He leaned over and coughed, it felt as if his ribs had cracked. Erbrand heard the man coming at him and blindly made two swift strokes, notching the man’s staff on the second swing. Finally, they were close enough to grapple each other. The young man howled with pain as the hunter’s fist went to work. With the knife in one hand, Erbrand had hand free to beat heavy blows on the boy, but the boy was busy trying to keep the knife from plunging downward, holding the staff with both his hands. Erbrand kicked hard and withdrew. The stranger drew back leaning on his staff, his face cut and bleeding slightly—he looked beaten. They stood staring at each other for a long time not saying anything, breathing hard.

“Are you alright?” Erbrand asked still breathless. The man did not answer.

“You’ve been watching Scarburg for a long time haven’t you? You are the one who I encountered nearly three months ago in the marsh, remember?” The stranger looked up, still leaning on his staff—an invisible face in the dark.

“Are you alone?” Erbrand walked closer seeing the man lean heavily on his staff. “Come, I can help you back at the Hall. My lady will have questions…”

Instead of a gentle compliance with his wishes, Erbrand felt the end of the staff strike his head. There was a loud crack! Blood filled Erbrand’s mouth as he hit the ground in a dizzying spin. The pain throbbed through his head. He rolled over, hands empty, his eyes closed in expectation of another blow…but the blow never came. Instead when Erbrand opened his eyes there was nobody standing over him or anywhere for that matter. His knife was lying untouched a few feet away along with the boy’s now broken staff. Thank my lucky stars! He looked at the broken staff and felt his head. Good, no bleeding, and nothing is broken. My head is going to be the size of a watermelon by noontime. Ow!b Erbrand didn't feel like getting up, but he did, slowly, his sides aching from the bruises. He leaned down to pick up his knife, swore, and keeled over in pain.

“Confound that boy!” Erbrand raised himself up again and felt his head swim. The sun became fuller and it occurred to Erbrand that he better get back to the Hall. The air was stinging his face with the cold and he was shivering. Erbrand stumbled from tree to tree until he reached Traveler. Mounting his steed, a new surge of pain rocked his frame and he sunk yet again.

“Come on old boy,” he said wincing, “take me home.”

Each step bounced Erbrand, he was in constant pain. His head did not hurt as much anymore, he felt it again. The staff must have cracked in the spot where he had notched it. However, it still felt like one of his ribs was broken. The camp was now visible. Erbrand squinted through the pain and saw someone was coming towards him. One of the children? No. Dan! He hailed him and dismounted slowly.

"I'm glad to see you of all people," Erbrand said slowly, leaning in pain.

[Nogrod]

A messenger from Edoras had broke the news a week ago. A new eorl, lord Athanar son of Hereweald, from a distinguished Rohir family, had been appointed by king Eomer. He and his entourage would come and take over the Mead Hall in a week. All the people on the Mead Hall would be held on as old employees and all the guests would be invited to stay as with lord Eodwine. And the king would send them some gifts to pave their way through the hard times they might meet in the future. The messenger didn't mention the landlords but everyone realised the meaning of the gifts: if there were troubles they wouldn't starve to death the first thing...

"Praised be king Eomer..." was the sentence on everyone's lips even if they were quite worried about what kind of a lord they were to have. Too many of them knew of the corrupted lords of Edoras; the lazy old aristocrats who were more interested in their personal luxury than the well-being of their subjects.

Today they would find it out. Or at least get a grip of what would come...


~~***~~


Captain Coenred rode in front of the convoy with Wulfric and Wilheard. They all wore shining armour and full weaponry. But it was clear they came in peace riding slowly, their backs straight and their posture upright and formal. Behind them came two soldiers flying banners: one flag had the familiar white horse on green but the other one had a white eagle on yellow with crossed staves in the background and two spears right beside them. That was Athanar’s flag, the flag of his family. Everyone in Rohan recognised the white eagle on yellow as the emblem of Aldor’s house. The staves and the two spears were the identification of Athanar’s lineage in relation to the main line.

Following the banners there was Athanar on his beautiful white mare and right behind him his wife Wynflaed and young Aedre on their own horses.

Then there were two more soldiers in their bright coats of mail followed by a wagon of Athanar’s family-items driven by an old and grumpy looking man. By his side there was Lilige, Wynflaed’s maid.

After the first wagon, there were two… three… four… five wagons with drivers and almost two dozen riders to escort the retinue.

~*~

Stigend was looking at the oncoming party with amazement. Like the landlords coming about a month ago these people wore shining armours, bright colours and they looked like coming from a totally different world: a world of wealth, a world of clean clothes, a world of civilisation… Spending their days in the wilderness just working round hours had made the people of Scarburg Hall look dirty and rugged even if they had washed themselves thoroughly to meet their new lord and had put their best clothes on. Stigend glanced backward to find the beaten figure of Erbrand from somewhere among the people waiting. He smiled to himself with the thought of Erbrand trying to look prominent with those bruises and why he reasonably stayed behind.

To his own amazement he kind of understood the scorn of the landlords. The Scarburgians sure looked like workers, like of the class less than the ones with shiny armours… what had that young lord said, "rag-tag"? Even if it was not true in any moral sense of the word, he could see how someone could think like that...

But he did also notice the shine and excitement in the eyes of Cnebba and Garmund standing by his side. He glanced at Garstan over the lads only to confirm he had also noticed the enthusiasm in their young faces. Garstan shrugged and Stigend shook his head as an affirmative answer.

~*~

The party halted to the frontyard and Athanar came forwards from behind Coenred and the flag-carriers.

“Good day to you!” he called from his saddle eyeing the general public around him but soon found Saeryn and Thornden standing in the middle of the crowd a bit forwards from the irregular half-circle the people of the Mead Hall had formed around the two. There was a young red-haired man behind them as differently positioned like the two - and clad in noble robes - but he had no idea on who he was. It can wait… let’s get this over and done with first.

“You must be lady Saeryn?” Looking at Saeryn straight to the eyes he bowed his head deep and kept it down for a good while before raising it again. “My condolences to you milady. I don’t know if you have the latest news but it seems lord Eodwine has not gotten any better in Minast Tirith as far as we know of things a week back from now.”

The people didn’t look surprised for the latest news but Athanar could sense the grievance his words had produced. He let the silence take the yard and waited for a while before continuing.

“I’m Athanar, son of Hereweald, appointed by king Eomer to be the new eorl of Scarburg Mead Hall.” He looked around to see that his words had the desired effect… or if there was any dissatisfaction or other grievances.

“I didn’t know lord Eodwine personally but I have heard about him and know that he was… that he is… a good man”, he corrected. “But king Eomer has seen that the future of this Mead Hall requires full and acting eorlship right now. I have been briefed about your troubles – our troubles – with the local landlords by the king himself and we’ll settle those matters as a first thing. Let me assure you people; the king’s will shall prevail on these quarters of the land as well.”

There was a silence which was broken by lady Saeryn asking for lord Athanar and those he felt should follow him to come inside the Hall.

“Aye lady.” Athanar answered with a nod but then straightenend his back to glance around him – to the people in front of him and to the people of his entourage behind him. “We’ll have time for introductions later today with a modest arrival-banquet… we’ve brought quite a stock of things with us as gifts from king Eomer.”

There were scattered cheers from the people of the Mead Hall and from the convoy. “And we’ll have a lots of beer and wine to go with it this evening…” He continued receiving quite an outstanding support of “ayes“ and “yeses” from both sides.

He silenced the men behind him with a sudden movement of his hand, the Scarburgians saw the effect his hand had on his disciples and went quiet as well.

“Good.” lord Athanar said looking around him quite pleased. “Let me give you my first orders as we have things to do before any banqueting-time.” He looked now straight to Thornden. “You must be Thornden then? Your qualities have been praised to me in Edoras. I’m looking forwards to working with you…” Thornden nodded cordially as to accept the formal words of good-will.

“Appoint your stable-master to see after out horses. Hilderinc here will be on charge of that on our side” he waved to the bearer of his own eagle-banner behind him. “Fourteen of them will head back tomorrow as they are from Edoras’ town guard only to escort us and our convoy here, so you might wish to arrange things accordingly.” He made a short pause but did raise his eyebrows seeing Thornden waving at Leof… but he didn’t say anything.

“Then the other carriages… The first one has the belongings of my family and they should be unloaded into our personal quarters. Lilige here, the maid of my fair wife Wynflaed, will advise your men with them.” He nodded towards Lilige sitting on the first cart.

“On the next two wagons there are food supplies that should be delivered to the kitchens and your craftsmen should be interested in the two last wagons. They should all be unloaded immediately so that we can get the men and the beasts to rest.” He turned back to Thornden. “Who’s the main cook?”

“She’s Frodides, here.” Thornden waved towards Frodides who nodded proudly but minimally.

“Let’s see a welcome feast for tonight then Frodides. But for us all… work first.” He hesitated a moment but then added: “A pint of beer to everyone as soon as the horses are taken care of and the carts are unloaded.” With that he unmounted while nodding to Wynflaed to follow him as he got down. “Coenred, Wulfric, Wilheard… follow us…” Glancing upwards to his daughter he said in a more soft tone: “Aedre darling… go with uncle Fulcher.” He gave a hearty smile to his youngest child and to the old man on the cart. “Hilderinc! After you get it with the horses see things done out here! And some decent lodgings for the men…”

“Aye lord! Done!” The man with the family-banner yelled back.

Athanar glanced at Coenred as to ask with his eyes whether Coen would need to stay behind and check Hilderinc was up to the organising task. He was new to his household anyway. But Coenred shook his head and then nodded smiling. Athanar replied with a nod and walked towards the main doors of the Mead Hall.

Coming closer to the two he addressed them shortly.. “lady Saeryn... Thornden. We have a lot to talk… This way, I presume?”

Saeryn nodded to lord Athanar and glanced at Thornden and Degas.


~*~

They went inside the Mead Hall that had gotten quite a facelift since the landlords visited. It was almost completed and looked quite impressive – even if still a bit under construction. The smell of fresh wood and newly hacked stone betrayed the novelty of the place. But lord Athanar nodded approvingly after studying the place for a moment on the doorway before walking straight to the eorl’s chair at the end of the Hall and setting himself into it.

There was a long table in front of the eorl’s chair and the others sat themselves around it. Coenred, Wynflaed, Wulfric and Wilheard on the other side; Saeryn and Degas on the other.

Ginna and Modtryth served them a round of ale and went back to aid in the kitchen.

They had tasted the ale in silence when Thornden finally rushed in after dealing out orders and organising the work outside. He sat at the side of Saeryn and Degas.

Lord Athanar looked at all the people around the table and took a sip from his pint before opening his mouth to start things in earnest.

“So my friends, we need turn this into a real Mead Hall. I need to know all you can tell me about these landlords and on the advancement of the building efforts; of the staff you have here and of any problems or shortages we might have. But first you should meet my wife Wynflaed, my sons Wulfric and Wilheard and my precious right hand man Coenred.” The people nodded to each other over the table while lord Athanar mentioned the names.

Lord Athanar turned to look at the Mead Hall people after taking another sip of the ale. “I think I know you are lady Saeryn and you are Thornden, lord Eodwine’s second in command. I’m pleased to meet you… But who might you be then?” lord Athanar addressed Degas looking at him with curiosity. “I was not told in Edoras there was a third caretaker of the Mead Hall while lord Eodwine was away.”

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Lord Athanar, I am Degas," he responded, leaning forward. "I am brother of the Lady and a lord of the Folde, a close ally, friend, and neighbor to Elfhelm of Aldburg, who took lordship of it once designated Marshall of the East-mark in the place of King Eomer.

"The reason you were unaware of my position at Scarburg is because I am no lord of the Middle Emnet, and I am not a caretaker of its lands. I am sworn to Elfhelm, who is my own Eorl, and to the King, but the expanse of lands trusted to Eodwine to govern hold little interest for me except as part of our kingdom.

"I am, however, the sworn brother of Lord Eodwine who vowed to come to the aid of his family and his people in the event of his sickness or demise, and to fight for those same people as though they were of my own flesh, bound to me as I was to them." Degas said this neutrally, almost as though it was a mere trifle of a matter. He briefly considered inspecting his fingernails to reaffirm his adopted nonchalance, however chose to meet Athanar's eyes instead. "While the King may have deigned you to be Eorl in my brother's absence, and the seat of the eorldom lies here at Scarburg, Eodwine remains the Lord of these lands upon which you sit, and regardless of Eodwine's current health, the heir to these lands sits here and now at this table.

"Or," he smiled, inviting the others, who had tensed, to see his calmness, "perhaps I should say that the heir sleeps here and now, spending his time growing and becoming strong. As I said, I am not a caretaker of this Emnet you now lead. I am, however, a staunch caretaker of those who rightfully rule this particular land, and while you may sit rightfully in the chair of the Eorl, the seat of the Lord of Scarburg does not belong to you."

Degas sat back, and he waited. While at times it was prudent to say little and listen much, at other times it was best to speak with forthrightness. He sensed that Athanar was the type of man that approved of blunt honesty. Well, Degas could not really have been more blunt unless he had said that if Saeryn and her unborn child were not treated with proper respect as the lady and heir of these lands, the people of Athanar would quickly meet the people of Degas, and it would not be for a shared meal.

Degas watched as Athanar formulated an answer, and wondered whether he had drawn the man's wrath or respect with his choice of discussion.

[Nogrod]

Athanar was taken aback by the bluntness of the young man... but if it was just that, he would have easily handled the arrogant youngster. But what Degas said made him think one... no two times... He had to gather things about loyalties and old deals between caretakers, eorls, lords and kings to be sure he was not putting himself into jeopardy. He was too experienced to fall into any traps he was sure the youngster was trying to lay on him - even if he was not too certain what the exact trap was... or if there was one in the first place. At the moment he saw no flaw in his position but the firmness of the youngster forced him to think twice. What was he aiming at? Or was it just that he was too much immersed with the plotting of Edoras aristocracy and thus thought everyone everywhere was like that?

But he would have to think about it with more time and take care of the moment.

He made a stern look at Degas and then spoke with an intentionally slow pace staring at Degas.

"Do you think, Degas, neighbour and vassal of eorl Elfhelm of Aldburg, that your position is one to contest the will of the king concerning who should be the eorl of Mid-Emnet?" He took his time to study the face of Degas as to see what he was for a man. And just as he saw Degas was about to protest he continued.

"But anyway... I shall forgive you your thoughtlessness for the time being." with the way he spelled the words for the time being he made it clear he was meaning it would be short-lived indeed.

"I can understand these are hard times to you and your sister - and I can sympathise with your anguish. But concerning the kingdom of Rohan, it needs more a running Mead Hall in Mid-Emnet than appeasing some personal grievances over any sworn friendships and vain pride."

Athanar let the words hammer down on Degas before he made his final remark - this time turning more to lady Saeryn and Thornden. "I have no doubt this Degas is a brave and good young man, but unless he grows a bit more mature from what he is right now - not meddling his personal insecurities, bad conscience or self-blames into the discussions on ruling this Mead Hall - I'd suggest you'd ask for him to leave from this discussion. We have the landlords to bargain with and the king's Hall to settle into these quarters lord Eodwine never managed to do. And the king awaits results. We'll have to get this Hall running... and we're not getting any results by making these petty arguments that have more to do with individual suffering... as bad it might feel to an individual who feels bad."

He smiled dryly while turning to Degas: "It means adulthood young master Degas; to be able to see over one's personal grievances, and it means that first step of lordship; to be able to differentiate between your own feelings and what is good for the larger community."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"And if you think this is about feelings, whatever they may be," Degas returned calmly, "then I do indeed question our King's judgment."

As Athanar's sons made to rise angrily, Degas stood, adding, "Nevertheless, I shall depart, as the running of an emnet is neither my responsibility nor my interest, nor is running this household. My lady sister shall doubtless inform me if she requires my aid. I simply bid you to remember that the good people of the Riddermark will not respond fondly to a man that would confiscate the rightful inheritance of an unborn child for his own political gain. Bear in mind at all times what my lady sister signifies and deserves, and treat her with the respect of her position, and we need not quarrel. After all, I have no quarrel with you. Not for the time being, at any rate."

And with that, Degas left the mead hall, thinking perhaps to go for a quiet ride to cool his temper. While he had by no means lost control over himself, he knew that he was not as his most serene.

Yes, he would head to the stables and find his beloved Gleowyn and take her for a run. Perhaps one of the boys might want to race, if their parents had no chores in mind for them...

As he entered the stables, he paused, hearing an unfamiliar voice. It was not Leof, whose voice he knew, but it was the voice of a child. Which, he could not be sure, since the only child he knew here was Leodhern, and she would not be in the stables at his hour.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc remained in the saddle. Patting his chestnut horse - a good, strong stallion he got back in Edoras for the journey here - he carefully looked around for any sign of somebody who might look like a local stablemaster. He was not willing to dismount for two, no, three reasons: First, from the horseback, he could easily oversee the mess in the courtyard. Quite many people, he thought, many people for such a small place. Though remembering his journey, especially the last part of it, Hilderinc was thinking that any number of people could be considered surprising for such a place. He had seen other settlements as remote as this, or even more so, but he could not think of a place so pitiful, yet hosting such a noble lord as Athanar was. Well, save one. Briefly, he wondered what the previous eorl must have been like. But only briefly. It was not a matter to wonder about anyway.

The soldier's second reason to stay in the saddle was simply to keep the profile. His lord's flag folded, but still held in his hand, he considered it appropriate, as far as he could read Athanar's attitude, to stay "on top of things", to make the proper impression on the inhabitants of Scarburg. Personally, Hilderinc did not care, but during years serving different masters he has learned to correspond to their behavior. Even though every single one of them wanted you to fulfil your duties and obey his orders, each master also expected something different from you - something else that you had to discover yourself. It was a matter of, some would say, empathy. Hilderinc would say: it is a matter of making an observation and of applying it.

The third reason for remaining on horseback was indeed simply practical. He was the one appointed by Athanar, and whoever was responsible to take care of the horses from the natives' part would see whom to talk to. The soldier's eyes flashed a bit to the side – it seemed obvious that the stables were over there. Hilderinc did not concern his mind with the rest of the hall yet. One by one. There was a way to familiarize yourself with a new place, and everything had its time.

And now, he noticed a young man – no, a boy, actually – moving close to him. One look was enough. All right, so "stablemaster" was maybe too much of a strong word, Hilderinc corrected himself. But there was hardly anything to wonder about. He decided that it is possibly the right moment to dismount. The boy stood against him, small and fair next to the dark soldier. Hilderinc handed the reins of his horse to him.

"Lead the way," he said. Turning to the rest of the company, most of them already dismounted by now, he beckoned to them and followed the boy into the stables, to see the place and to put the horses wherever was necessary. Especially he wanted to find the place for his lord's own mount and the others belonging to his wife, sons and captain before leading them in. However, Hilderinc only managed to go as far as to the door when a strange noise came from behind. It was a terrified neigh of lord Athanar's white mare, which Hilderinc had left in the courtyard! What was going on?

[Loslote]

Lilige stepped down from the wagon as soon as Athanar entered the Hall. She stretched briefly, stiff from the journey here. Present discomfort relieved, she hurried up to where the family's personal belongings were being unloaded.

"Be gentle with Lady Wynflaed's belongings!" she snapped as one especially large trunk hit the ground heavily. The box in question held only clothes, but several others contained items easily broken.

Looking about her, Lilige examined her new home. It was far more rustic than Edoras, and the people were not nearly as elegant as her old companions. However, the scenery was beautiful, and the Mead Hall looked promising. Lilige hoped she could grow to like it here.

"Lady Aedre's trunk is upside down!" she pointed out sharply. This could be a long process, she thought to herself.