Scarburg Meadhall

[Folwren]

Saeryn met Wynflaed’s eyes, and she felt grateful for her words. Perhaps this woman, at least, had no wish to take her place, and maybe she would be able to persuade her husband not to try to take Eodwine’s. She relaxed in her seat and drew a breath. So long as they treated Saeryn’s people as their own, without preferences among any of them or the newcomers, and everyone was treated fairly, then she would be able to abide a great deal. Wynfllaed spoke to include everyone, and that was good.

“The only complaint that they brought up when they were here is that we did not have the proper authority to demand payment or any sort of tribute from them,” Saeryn began. She then told them what had happened, touching on how the shabby appearance of the half-built meadhall had affected how the landlords treated them. She mentioned the appearance of her people, the soldiers with armor and weaponry beginning to look poor, and the women and children in work-worn clothing. She was not ashamed, and she did not speak as though she were. “They have worked hard,” she said, looking Athanar and Wynflaed in the face in turn. “And hard work has it’s effect, even if later it can be mistaken for slovenliness and laziness by those who are beyond the hard work and can just sit idly by and watch the work be done by others.” She paused slightly, as though making some sort of point, and then she continued, “That is what the other landlords thought, when they came, that we were a bunch of rag-tags, holding the hall against the king’s orders, and doing whatever we pleased.”

“All that they wanted was someone who really held authority and permission from the king to prove himself and demand the taxes,” Thornden said. He extended his hand toward Athanar. “Your presence here will suffice. The next time they come, they will come honorably, I am sure, and will do whatever you ask. In the mean time, and after they have come, your extra hands will be a great help in finishing the meadhall and other outlying buildings.”

[Nogrod]

What a temper! Athanar had thought to himself shaking his head when Degas stormed out from the Hall. With a small movement of his hand he had waved his sons to sit down - which they reluctantly did. He could be useful if that rage could be directed to the right targets...

~*~

He took up Thornden's extended hand and shook it firmly looking at the young soldier to the eye. "I hope I could share your optimism Thornden. But I happen to know this lord Tancred too well... Many a sigh of relief were heard in Edoras when he moved away from there. He's not one of those you wish to have quarrels with for he is resourceful, cunning and strong lord used to get his will. And from what you have told me, he seems to be the ringleader here as well... That's no surprise to me." Letting Thornden's hand lord Athanar leaned back on the eorl's chair and brought his fingers together in front of his lips, like he was considering carefully what to say.

"Allright then..." he started after thinking for a moment. "Our kitchen staff will have their hands full today, but I need an inventory on our food supplies done the first thing tomorrow after the breakfast. Do we have enough people who know that kind of stuff?"

"Modtryth can help... and I can myself if needed." Saeryn said with a remnant of defiance in her tone. In this Mead Hall also the leaders worked. That was a message coming loud and clear from her words.

"And there are Frodides, Kara and Ginna to do that as well. We'll have it done before lunch time." Thornden added.

"Good... Then I would have to meet with the smiths and carpenters and others who have been involved in the planning and executing the construction work. They should also carry the information of what building supplies there are available here. I would like to see them already today if we have time after they have unloaded the carts we brought from the king. And I need to see the plans, the sooner the better..."

Thornden nodded but his face betrayed his confusion over the order of importance the new eorl seemed to have. And Athanar noticed it.

"Oh master Thornden... we all have our vices... or weaknesses... I have never lived in a building where I haven't have a role in designing it. And I'm not intending to make this the first exception to that. You might call it a hobby but I call it a passion..." The first time today lord Athanar smiled warmly and heartily. "My little passion it is..."

Saeryn and Thornden glanced at each other but didn't say a word.

"How about the soldiers?" Coenred asked filling the silence.

"Today it is party-time... but we need to gather all the soldiers tomorrow and make things clear. Some light excercise perhaps to make them get to know each other? We'll see about that..." lord Athanar looked at Thornden and Saeryn - and then at Coenred and his sons.

"But lady Saeryn here is actually correct in demanding that any issues on authority should be solved rather sooner than later. We might skip a step or two if they seem too problematic on our first meeting but with soldiers we need clear command-structures and authorities. No disciplined military force functions without it.

Now every soldier here is serving king Eomer through the eorlship vested on me by the king. That should be clear - even if young Degas seems to think differently. I'll forgive him his quick temper as I do hope he can come back to his senses.

And captain Coenred will be my second in command: as a captain of the rohirrim he is both the highest ranking and the most experienced officer around."

He turned towards Thornden once again. "But I would like to appoint you Thornden to be my personal lieutenant - if you accept the honour. You know this place and people who serve here better than Coenred or myself and I would appreciate your advice and counsel in all matters concerning this Mead Hall."

Before neither Thornden or Saeryn had time to comment he waved them to wait for just one thing more. "And you lady Saeryn... Obviously my wife Wynflaed will be the lady of the Mead Hall. There should be no question about that. But I am both ready and willing to grant you a special status here - like with Thornden. And I would be very pleased indeed if you aided my dear wife with her duties and running of this Hall with your experience and person... and with your own status."

Athanar smiled and laughed dryly. "You might think I'm a spoiled lord from Edoras hungry for titles and estranged from practicalities. That is an appalling stereotype but sadly quite true for many lords in the city. But I hope I can prove you wrong there... what say you lady Saeryn, Thornden?"

[Groin Redbeard]

“What a day!” Matrim exclaimed as Athanar went inside that hall with Thornden and Lady Saeryn.

“I know what you mean,” Lithor walked up behind him. “Don’t worry, he won’t take over completely, lady Saeryn will still command us.”

Matrim looked at him doubtfully, then at the entourage of wagons. “I don’t know, Lithor. He certainly looks wealthy and I’m not sure he would have brought all these gifts if it was for the simple reason of pleasing us.”

“Not true, my friend. Athanar simply did not want there to be any tension in his coming here. Besides, we need him.”

Matrim smiled and nodded. “Exactly, we need him. Tell me, do you think he’s the type of man who would use that as leverage to gain what he wants?” The question caught Lithor off guard. He looked at Matrim surprised; this was not the simple young man he knew when Eodwine ruled.

“I can’t say either way. Athanar was not in Edoras when we brought lord Eodwine. Besides, change will come whether we want it or not. Let’s give this new fellow, Athanar, a chance. Eodwine would have wished it. Let’s greet our guests.”

They walked forward. Athanar’s soldiers had dismounted, but did not depart from their horses. Their gazes seemed cold and aloof—these soldiers were not the type that Lithor was used to. The officers stood as if at attention gazing at the people of Scarburg. One of the officers was staring at him from under a glistening helmet. Lithor waved, you never knew which old friend you might bump in to. The officer removed his helmet and bowed formally without saying a word, maintaining an air that reeked of discipline and arrogance. Lithor grimaced. A courtier, a dashing a cavalier. Lithor and Matrim went to look at the presents stored in the wagons.

Suddenly amidst the wonder and excitement of examining the stored treasures, Lithor heard shouting, an argument. Lithor quickened his pace and Matrim followed, a mysterious energy seemed to glow in his eyes. He could see them now, Wilcred was shouting at a soldier. As they neared the argument he began to distinguish words.

“How dare you! I should rip out your tongue for that insult.”

“I meant no offence, friend. I stand by what I say because it is true.”

“Peace friends,” Lithor commanded. “What’s the trouble here?”

“I’ll tell you,” Wilcred said silencing the other soldier, “this fellow has ordered me, to take his horse and find him drink and food. I responded by saying that I am not his stable boy and he responded by insulting lady Saeryn.”

“What say you to the charges soldier?” Lithor asked inquisitively, not sure if Wilcred was exaggerating. By now more soldiers had gathered round them.

“I admit to being a bit brutish in my bossing this fellow around,” the soldier responded calmly. “As to my insult, I mumbled it, not wishing for this man to hear; yet he heard it and I apologize.”

“What did you say?”

“I said that this soldier’s discipline,” he pointed at Wilcred, “has diminished due to his long dependence on a woman’s weak stewardship.” The soldier looked very humiliated for having to say it again in public. He lowered his gaze.

“Runt!” Lithor turned to see Matrim’s eyes lit with fury. “I’ll teach you proper respect!”

Before Lithor could grab him, Matrim had flung himself upon the soldier and thrown him to the ground. Again Matrim jumped on the man and together they rolled and dealt each other heavy blows. A horse neighed and reared itself in panic as the two neared it. Lithor jumped forward to intercede, but before he could, the brawny figure of the blacksmith stepped in. Harreld reached down and pulled the two apart. Crabannan rushed forward and held Matrim back while the soldier’s friends gathered around. Lithor was furious. If Athanar hears of this brawl who knows what might happen.

“Go and cool off, Matrim!”

The soldier was being looked after by his friends and Matrim took his leave quickly. Lithor breathed a long sigh. This is not acceptable. Harreld, Stigend, Crabannan, and a few others gathered around.

“Thanks Harreld, Crabanna. I doubt I could have stepped in before the brawl turned into a real mess.” Harreld looked away and noticed a man with a stern look coming their way.

“It doesn’t look like our troubles are over yet.”

[Durelin]

When they first arrived at Scarburg, Coenred was all at once filled with worry and a sense of being home. It was a relief to ride into this modest emnet after so long in Edoras - it brought back memories of home and working with his hands. But he also realized that this 'modest' appearance was partly because of the troubles of a growing land.

Coenred was pleased that he was able to be included in this meeting with the current officials of Scarburg, and knew it was more important to start seeing to the running of this Mead Hall than seeing to the horses and supplies. Coenred reddened slightly when Athanar introduced him as his "precious right hand man," pleased by the 'title.' He doubted he would have anything to contribute to discussion, but he was glad to have the chance to listen to the proceedings to better understanding the situation they had entered into. Some things he was sure would be answered quickly, such as how receptive the current leaders of Scarburg would be to a new Eorl and to aid in any form, and he found he was quite correct.

The young man, Degas, spoke with arrogance to the lord Athanar- and even though Coenred respected his desire to defend his family, he was more than happy to see the boy leave. He had a great deal of misplaced surety about him, especially considering is fresh young face. He needed some good old-fashioned discipline. Coenred was not really familiar with the laws of inheritance, but he saw it as just picking a fight to question Athanar's intentions when not only was he sent by the king himself, but also the child in question was not even born! Would it even be a son? Would it even survive to its birth?

Coenred almost sighed when he saw that the Lady Saeryn all but echoed Degas' complaints. She was quite young as well, of course not surprising if this was her first child, and she apparently was as hotheaded as her brother. Did she expect for the emnet to be handed over to her governance? Or did she expect to re-marry as soon as possible and that a man of her choosing would be eorl? It was one thing to be concerned about her child, another to be concerned about her own power. She should be thankful for aid, as they surely needed it.

Coenred was pleased that the man Thornden stepped in to turn the topic over to real issues of governance - the landlords and the coming of winter. He nodded sadly, recalling the winters he had survived as a child. He had lost one of his sisters to a bad winter, and another sibling before he or she was even born.

The Lady Wynflaed spoke wisely and diplomatically, attempting to soften the rough ground that already lay between her and her husband and the Lady Saeryn. When the wife of the former Eorl spoke again, Coenred felt more admiration for her this time, and a fondness for these people of Scarburg. But he shook his head slightly when she suggested that Athanar and those with him were "those who are beyond the hard work and can just sit idly by and watch the work be done by others." She needed to learn a bit, just like her brother. But they were young.

When there was a pause, and things felt a little on edge, Coenred decided to speak up, not only desiring to touch on the subject but also to direct attention away from the building plans which may have caused another sore spot. "How about the soldiers?" he asked, concerned ultimately with his own duties and not with governing or power structure. Tomorrow was the answer, and Coen would not argue, even though he desired to see what Scarburg had to offer.

"...captain Coenred will be my second in command: as a captain of the rohirrim he is both the highest ranking and the most experienced officer around," Athanar said. This was no surprise to Coen - they had discussed this before ever arriving. He still was not sure about his position, and certainly doubted his ability to fulfill it, but he would not refuse to serve Athanar in whatever way the man wished him to serve. He felt most at home working with the soldiers, and he hoped his position would involve little beyond that. Though he knew one of his duties would be to support the Lord Athanar in every way, and help to uphold his position as the new Eorl. Though such a duty was immensely important to him, he was not looking forward to dealing with the Lady Saeryn, her brother, or any others who tended toward spite.

Waiting nervously for a response from the Lady Saeryn and her servant Thornden, Coen hoped this meeting would draw to an end, or would allow him an exit, soon. Though he trusted Hilderinc fully, he did not like sitting here without knowing how the preparations were going or being the one to give his men orders.

[Nogrod]

Stigend, Garstan and Harreld were the first to rush to the last two carts. The wagoners were scrumpy old men and didn't pay too much attention to them while they examined the loads.

"Look at the quality of the timber!" Stigend shouted in awe.

"Look at the slate stones! We'll get a stone floor after all!" Garstan yelled.

"Iron! Real iron! Wait 'till you see what I will make of this!" Harreld went on enthusiastically.

It was like a birthday to them.

Stigend was looking around and finally spotted a soldier who was still standing beside the carts and holding his horse.

"Hey you there! What is your name?"

"I'm Baldwic, son of Baldwin..." the man said hesitatingly, and added: "What is it up to you?", trying to reach a more comfortable tone.

Stigend smiled and walked towards him. "How old are you Baldwic?"

It was a question that took Baldwic by surprise. And before he realised it he gave an answer. "I'm eighteen years old, sir."

Baldwic looked genuinely confused on his own behavior and tried to change it only to see Stigend taking the last few steps to face him straight on. "Now what...?" he managed to utter before Stigend was in front of him.

"If I were you I would ask this officer of yours to order some helping hands around here. Remember, no ale before everything is unloaded..." Stigend looked at the young soldier trying to keep his face stern. It was hard as he felt such a pity and care for the young insecure soldier in front of him... he remembered himself back in times when he had to show off a brave face even if he was just too young to pose as a soldier. He struggled between real pity for the lad and a burst of well-meaning laughter to life and everything.

"What's going around here?" a rider appeared from somewhere still on horseback. "Any trouble Baldwic?"

"No Feargall, no... I was just..." Baldric began.

"My friend just told him you guys could give us a hand here unless you're strongly against having a pint of ale soon..." Garstan put in smiling to the man on the horse.

"It's up to Hilderinc to give orders around here... not me... or you." the man named Feargall said calmly.

Suddenly they all heard the noises from around a few wagons ahead of them. It was like there was an argument of sorts. The discussion was closed and they all rushed to see what had happened.

~*~

"Where should we then?" Cnebba hissed in enthusiasm as the three kids were looking at things unfolding at the yard leaning at the warm kitchen wall.

"Sneaking to the meeting inside?" Leodthern thought out aloud.

"Blah, that's boring... that's just talk and talk... How about the horses? Look at those..." Garmund noted while seeing two great white stallions passing them with shining riders on them.

"Hey... a fight!" Cnebba ran. Garmund and Leodthern followed him. There was a fight to be sure beside the first carts. And what would be more exciting than a fight!

They were on place just too late. They had seen from further away there was a fight but they reached the place only when Harreld took the two apart and others ran in. The disappointment could be read from the young faces...

[Folwren]

Saeryn regretted her choice of words as soon as they had escaped her lips. She looked crestfallen as their effect became obvious on the newcomers. When would she ever learn to curb her tongue and her feelings? She listened in silence while Athanar wrapped up the formal meeting and dismissed everyone. She and Thornden rose and stepped back, they both bowed slightly to Athanar and his wife and then drew aside.

“What would you have me do now, my lady?” Thornden asked.

“Just go out and see that all is well between our people and the newcomers, Thornden. See if you can help with anything.”

“Of course.”

“I will be in my room,” she said. It was not really her room. She had given up the room she and Eodwine had stayed in so that Athanar and his wife could be in comfort while they were there, and the place where she and Eodwine had lived was the only real comfortable place for a man and wife to be together. She had proposed moving into the women's quarters with all the other ladies, but the people would not allow that. Stigend and Garstan had assured her that it would be a simple matter to put up a privacy wall in one of the corners. With a little bit of persuasion, she had agreed, and they had built her a private room for herself. She would be near the other women, but she would still have her own place to go.

Thornden nodded and turned to go. “Thornden,” she called after him. He turned. “Thank you for speaking there for me, just now. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Thornden nodded again. Then he said, “If there is anything else I can possibly do for you, do not hesitate to let me know.”

Saeryn smiled a little. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.” He bowed and turned away again. Saeryn’s smile faded and she, too, departed the hall. It was colder in the women’s quarters and in her room. Saeryn picked up her shawl from her bed and wrapped it close around her shoulders. She sat down on the foot of the bed, pulled off her shoes and curled her legs beneath her.

For a long time she sat, silently mulling over what had just passed. Had she acted acceptably, or had she spoken as a fool? Did she have a right to wish to cling to her status? Was she frightened for imaginary reasons, or real ones? She felt so lost and confused, she didn’t know what to think. As the thought of Eodwine sprang to her mind, tears filled her eyes suddenly.

“I try to be strong,” she murmured aloud. “But I need you, Eodwine.” She laid her hand on her stomach. “Soon I will need you more than ever.”

Her musings were doing her no good. She must talk to someone, and the only person she could truly pour her heart out to was Degas. She rose to go find him.

[Thinlómien]

Wulfric and Wilheard walked out of the hall and strecthed almost identically in the fresh air.
"Whoa," said Wilheard. "That was easily the most boring meeting ever." "Possibly," Wulfric agreed drily. He was looking at the crowd unpacking the arrived goods and packages. There were a lot of people and even more folk was joining the chores, now the peasantish officer and a suspiciously Dunlending-like woman.

"Hey! Where are you going, Will?" Wulfric shouted. His little brother was striding not to the masses of people, but to the stables.
"Riding," Wilheard replied with a slight shrug.
"We were supposed to do the unpacking, idiot," Wulfric pointed out.
"As if I cared," Wilheard replied. "There seems to be enough peasant folk seeing to the stuff, we would be just on the way."

Wulfric set his jaw in a stubborn way. "You are not going anywhere, kid." In truth, he preferred riding to unpacking just as much as his brother.
"You're going to run and tell mummy and daddy, are you?" Wilheard asked gleefully.
"No," said Wulfric with a hint of a grin. "I'm going to beat some sense into your thick skull."
Wilheard flashed a grin in return. "Catch me if you can, then!" Without further warnings, he dashed to the stables and appeared in no time at all, riding his grey steed who seemed to be as enthusiastic as his master. "You'll never catch me, Wulf, I've always been a superior horseman!"

"Maybe so, but if I catch you, you'll be in deep trouble - for I've always been the better fighter, you little maggot!" With this words, Wulfric ran to the stables to quickly saddle his horse and urge it to follow the grey, almost running over some peasant carrying packages. But Wilheard, of course, was already almost out of sight. Cursing, Wulfric urged his big white horse to run.

[Groin Redbeard]

Lithor did not know what to say. His plan had not worked. He could not understand it, this had always been his usual course for lightening up the mood. Did he overdo it? No, for it had always worked before. Maybe a straight forward approach would work—Lithor did, obviously, not impress his guest with all his court talk. However, Lithor decided against it, Hildernic was did not seem in any mood for humor.

“Now that hurt.” Lithor said inspecting his clothes after Hildernic left.

Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. Hildernic, was certainly a tough nut to crack. Perhaps later at dinner they could get a word in edgewise. Lithor would not give up on the man. Besides, he did not believe Hildernic to be as gloomy as he let on. Yet, there is time for all that later, for now, duties were to be done. Lithor took the horses that Hildernic pointed out as Athanar’s and took them to the stable. He had never considered himself a stable boy, but for today it would be prudent for to act as one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Erbrand

Nodding slightly, he took the package and Coenrad thanked him before taking off. Erbrand held the package in one hand and examined the tool that Coenrad had picked up with the other.

“What on earth is this?” Erbrand wondered out loud. Another one of those city comforts?

Cnebba was still standing looking at the package and then pack at the large pile of boxes and trunks waiting to be brought. Erbrand noticed it and took the hint.

“Make yourself useful Cnebba, run and find some mischief like young boys are supposed to do. At least you’ will be out of everyone’s way.” He finished with a wink and a smile.

Erbrand placed the box down and went for another one. The morning was almost spent and he had not done any real work yet. Some work would do him good, take his mind off his fight and the newcomers.

[Nienna]

Ædre ran out of the stables and looked for a place to hide just in case that man came looking for her. It wasn’t that she feared him at all. She just didn’t know where she stood with him or how to act around him.

These peasants are so strange. No one at home would have spoken to me like that.

Degas did have one thing going for him, though; he was nice to Leta.

Frustrated and uncertain, Ædre was scanning the area. She noticed a group of people unloading her family’s belongings. She was about to turn away to find something more interesting when she saw a boy who looked younger than her, drop her mother’s favorite comb and then just stare at it. An older man picked it up and spoke to the boy who then meekly trotted off. She saw this as an opportunity to settle herself into the hierarchy that she knows exists – at least at home - between all local children. She was the new girl and she needed them to know that she wasn’t to be bossed or pushed around. She was, after all a descendant of Aldor the Old, and not to be treated as a commoner.

“Hey! You, boy!” she shouted at the child who was trotting away. Cnebba, startled, turned around to look and see if he was the one being summoned.

“Me?” he asked. Ædre nodded and Cnebba began to introduce himself because obviously this girl was new around here.

“I do not care,” said Ædre interrupting him. “The only important thing is that you know that I am the daughter of the Eorl and a descendant of Aldor the Old.”

Cnebba just stared at her not sure how to react to the way he was being treated. He began to speak again but was interrupted.

“Go bring me my trunk, because who knows where it has landed, and then run to the kitchen and bring me something to eat. I am hungry.”

[Folwren]

Thornden stood by and waited for all the other soldiers to lead their horses off before him. He admitted that he was half waiting for Coenred, to see if he wished to speak to him. Sure enough, as the others were slowly walking away, the captain came near him. Thornden turned towards him to meet him and Coenred nodded.

“They are good men,” he said. “I look forward to working with them more.”

Thornden smiled a little. “Yes, they are good men. I think you will find that as you work with them they will progress quite well. They know what to do, it just has been so long since they actually did it that they are rusty.” He took his horse’s rein and began walking him back towards the hall, inviting Coenred to walk beside him. They went several paces in silence.

“I guess you will be giving all the orders now, concerning the watches and all that,” Thornden said. “Will you change who watches when, or do you wish me to tell you what the plan has been thus far?”

[Durelin]

Coenred felt unease rise up from a controlled ball in the pit of his stomach at Thornden's question. That the young man began with "I guess you will be giving all the orders now," caught him off-guard and made him wary of where this conversation would lead. He greatly wished he was still in Edoras, or even back home, without this title of 'Captain.' And yet there was a part of him that wondered how the Lord Athanar would fare here without a man like him.

The last thing Coen wanted was another man filled with anger over politics or perceptions, but he was not about to let Thornden walk over him, much less would he lie to the man. He hoped that the way the drills were handled had demonstrated somewhat to the soldiers and Thornden how the tiny guard at Scarburg would be handled, and obviously it had on some level, or the young man would not have remarked on Coen 'giving all the orders.'

It did amuse Coen, though, how the young man finished his question. 'Concerning the watches'...of course, what else had they to worry about? But no, he would not just be giving the orders in regard to the watches.

"It serves no good for there to be two men giving orders, and I am the Captain of the Guard here. But I will be working with you, Master Thornden, particularly since you will continue administrative duties under the Lord Athanar. Whatever information you can give me about the men and the duties they are accustomed to is appreciated -- I doubt anyway that my vision of a functioning hall guard and your and the Lord Eodwine's vision differ much at all."

Coen added the last statement for good measure, and hopefully as a reminder that he and the Lord Athanar and the men they brought with them were all men of the Mark, subjects of the same king, and sharers of land and language. It seemed somewhat as if many had managed to forget this. If one more man made a remark that made the Lord Athanar out to be an invader or usurper, the Captain was prepared to send a man to Edoras on his Lord's behalf...

[Folwren]

Saeryn was incensed, and Thornden sitting near her could feel it. This was all very difficult for her, he knew, and neither of them knew where it would end. He addressed Athanar.

“For myself, I willingly accept the position you offer, insofar as it does not contradict any wishes of my lady. I will do my best to aid you in whatever way possible. Coenred must, of course, take charge of the men-at-arms.” He looked the captain in the eye and nodded his head slightly. He hoped Coenred was as good a man as he looked.

Thornden looked again at Athanar. “But as for lady Saeryn, I fear that I speak for both of us, when I say that she can not be replaced, even by your wife. Do not mistake me, I mean no disrespect to you or your wife, sir, but it can not be forgotten that lord Eodwine is not dead, and you are not here to replace him but to temporarily fill his place. Lady Saeryn is here, and she is still in her rightful place as lady of hall. She must have a say in what is done here, and if your wife takes her place, then she will no longer have the authority she needs.”

[Nogrod]

Athanar had nodded approvingly while Thornden spoke about his own position in the Mead Hall, but the veins clearly visible on his forehead were getting larger as he listened to what Thornden said about Saeryn and his wife, but he cooled himself astonishingly fast - even to Wynflaed's experience. He forced a smile as he knew not what he should say. But as an experienced lord he was quick into a solution.

"As I said, I'm ready to grant her..." he turned his eyes towards Saeryn. "to grant you, a special status in here. You will have a say in what is done here... You will. But you'd need to negotiate things with us... and we'd help you as you'd help us." He made a pause recollecting his thoughts.

"The main thing is, that we should get through these following hard months as united as possible. We face the landlords, the building-work, the possible problems with the different staff trying to learn to live with one another... As leaders we should show some leadership in that, don't you think? If we argue publicly - or if anyone learns we argue on things even privately - then building unity in the Mead Hall is a lost case. That's why I ask you lady Saeryn to talk with your brother and I am ready to forgive him his harsh and incosiderate language if he comes to his senses. We can come back to the issues of procedures and statuses when the winter comes and we have overcome the first hurdles in front of us. What do you think?"

From the corner of his eye Athanar saw that Coenred was clearly troubled and turned towards him. "Coen..." he addressed him. "If you think you'd like to take a look outside on how Hilderinc is faring, please do it. We can settle the rest without you as well as your position is now clear."

He had known Coenred for almost fifteen years and always knew when he was unhappy. Now his face had just screamed to be sent off from the meeting and Athanar was more than willing to grant him that. After all he was a bit worried how the men would come along with one another outside and how Hilderinc could handle any possible problems out there.

[Loslote]

As Lilige coaxed the unloaders into at least attempting to be gentle with the load, she heard shouts, and saw flurries of movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning, she saw one of the soldiers who had traveled here with her party and one of the locals wrestling on the ground. Lilige's eyes widened. They had only just arrived, and already they were being attacked by locals. She moved so that her back was against the cart, as far away from the brawlers as possible.

"Is this behavior common here?" Lilige asked one of the men unloading the cart. Her voice trembled and squeaked. She cleared her throat and began again. "Is brawling a common pastime here?" she asked. She feared for the safety of her Lady and her Lady's daughter in such rough conditions. She was, of course, also afraid for herself, but the Ladies were noble born. They ought not to be expected to bear with such brutal surroundings. Another thought occurred to her.

"How did the fight start?" she asked. There may be a perfectly reasonable explanation. She couldn't think of one at the moment, but then, this place and its manners were new to her. It was possible that she was overreacting. The fight was over now, anyways. Shaking her head at her own childish fear of a event that probably had little importance, Lilige returned to reminding the unloaders to be careful with the trunks.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

When Hilderinc walked to the scene, he was too late to see what had just happened, but he could as well make a good guess. A group of the Scarburgians was glancing at him sideways as he approached and several of lord Athanar's soldiers were standing just a short distance apart, surrounding Áforglæd. Hilderinc glanced at the horse: it looked fine, while Áforglæd did not. Picking a fight with the Scarburgians? That didn't sound like Áforglæd's style, though from what Hilderinc knew about the young soldier, it would not be impossible to imagine that he provoked the fight by some rather impetuous action.

Hilderinc turned first to him and the group surrounding him.

"Why are you not taking care of the horses?" he said, as if he did not notice the few bruises on Áforglæd's face. "If yours are already in the stables, go and help to lead the cart-horses there, if the wagons are already unloaded."

The soldiers followed his order, some of them slightly reluctantly or with ambiguous expressions.

"Áforglæd, you stay here for a while."

Some of the soldiers looked back.

"They started it, Hilderinc," shouted Scyrr, the senior guard of Athanar's house.

Hilderinc turned to him with cold eyes. "Didn't you hear the lord's order? Go about your business."

"Oaf," he heard Scyrr whisper under his breath, but ignored it. Over the past few months, he got used to the fact that some of Athanar's guard did not respect him because of his incommunicativeness. But he did not concern himself with it now. He turned to the Scarburgians. He could have as well asked Áforglæd himself, but he felt it was more tactical to engage the natives directly, also to emphasise the impression that he was not taking any sides here.

"What was that?" His eyes moved from one to another, he was not quite sure to whom of this company he should speak to as to their representative, but he did not let his expression give out anything of his uncertainity. "What happened here?"

[Folwren]

Thornden and Saeryn glanced at each other. “Not in Scarburg,” Saeryn said, shaking her head and looking at Athanar. “I mean, the people here are not quarrelsome. They loved Eodwine because he gave them all he had. You treat them fairly, and serve them half as well as Eodwine served them, and they will respond to you as whole-heartedly as you should wish.”

Saeryn spoke like a woman, and even Thornden realized that. He addressed himself to Athanar. “What my lady means is that we have no truly hardened characters here. They will do their best to please and be pleased. But, yes, there are issues on which they will be sensitive about. They will be very upset when they hear that your lady has taken Saeryn’s place. Not,” he added quickly when he saw the cloud once more forming on Athanar’s brow, “that they have a right to form any judgement about such matters, but nevertheless, they will feel that she has been wronged. I am merely warning you – be careful how you handle that and in what way it is finally broken to them that she is no longer their lady.

“And they will not like anything that Eodwine has done to be changed. I know you will not be pleased with this, my lord, but to change the plans of the hall will appear foolish to them, especially the carpenter and his helpers. They know, as do I, that we have made plans that will utilize our supplies to their greatest fulfillment. We have planned the bare necessities, and we cannot finish the plans with what we have here. Now that you have brought some supplies, we will be able to finish, but if you try to alter the floor plan and add a great deal to try to make this into some great hall. . .no, that will not go well with them at all.”

Athanar listened carefully, looking Thornden squarely in the eye as he spoke. “Is there anything else?” Athanar asked, when Thornden paused.

“Forgive me, sir, yes,” Thornden said. “You have already removed me from my place as leader of the men-at-arms. That is all very well, for Coenred is my superior in rank, and the soldiers, at least, will realize and accept it. But be careful of replacing everyone here. You will have idle people on your hands and they may grow resentful.”

“Ha! They’ll hardly be idle!” Athanar said with a laugh. Thornden did not smile.

“I am serious. Eodwine has carefully chosen the people he has, and to replace them would be changing what he set up, and as I just said, the people will not like that.”

[Durelin]

Coen simply looked at the man for a moment, having been pulled sharply from his thoughts. He was a local, as Coen did not recognize him and he was in very simple peasant garb. Once his mind could wrap itself around the question, the captain thought about his response for half a moment, though he knew immediately what he should convey.

"It goes well, sir," he said politely. It was clear the man was embarrassed by what he had done, grabbing Coen forcefully. Either nerves were that strung out or he had thought Coen was someone else. "The lord Athanar and your lady Saeryn have begun their friendship and have started discussing business of the Mead Hall."

He paused, considering the man for a moment. He was about the same height as Coen, and quite a bit younger it seemed...and there was an odd smell about him, which took Coen a moment to place - he was a tanner.

"I am Coenred, a servant of the lord Athanar," he introduced himself.

[Mnemosyne]

"Duly noted, Thornden," said Wynflaed. "Rest assured that my lord Athanar will only implement those changes which he deems absolutely necessary for the good of the Hall." Her eyes flicked over to her husband.

"You must understand, and indeed it shall be our burden to make known to the people, that we of Edoras often have a different conception of what exactly that good is. Yet trust that we do not change things for the sake of change alone, nor that we change things without any discussion beforehand.

"My lady Saeryn," she said, turning to look at her, "I hope, when my family and I are more settled, and matters press in on all of us less closely, that we may arrange some sort of private meeting concerning the domestic ordering of the Hall. I do not wish to court the disfavor of the people through letting them think I am naught more than a usurper."

[Firefoot]

Because they were his friends? The answer seemed glaringly obvious to Léof now. But he had not intended to make such a big deal out of this issue of deserters and traitors. He had only added the question as an afterthought – and he didn’t want any of these soldiers to think he was asking because he had been someone to help out Erbrand! So instead he said, “Perhaps you are right,” he said instead, hoping to let the matter drop. “My question was ill thought-out.”

By now their company had reached the edge of the fields behind the meadhall and would soon be ascending into the Scar. Were it not for the dark overtones of the day, Léof thought that he might thoroughly enjoy this ride. The air was chilly but not yet cold, and overhead the sun shone palely out of a crisp blue sky. They were not here to enjoy the scenery though. “I suppose we ought to be on the lookout for them now,” he commented. Or at least pretend to be, more like.

[Mnemosyne]

Wynflaed's eyes flicked over to Saeryn, as if reminding herself of all that she had just heard from her. She seemed hesitant--

Ah, yes. Saeryn, at least, knew enough comportment to know when to hold her tongue.

"I only know," she told Athanar, "what I heard from Lilige, from the maids' gossip, and from the lady Saeryn just now--that Scyrr was grievously injured by a local man, who then rode away. Given the madness that seemed to be going on out of doors, I thought a few more stabilizing presences might be necessary. Also, I believe Saeryn has some additional information concerning the man who ran away."

Truth be told, however, much of the madness had tempered itself--or else moved elsewhere, if Athanar had indeed sent out a search party. "How long and how far are your men pursuing the runagate? Is there aught the household should do to make things run more smoothly?"

[Durelin]

Fearghall looked at the boy flatly. "You are a schemer, aren't ya." He looked between the two others. "I'm guessing this was his idea, too?"

He sighed. "Trouble is just what you deserve to get in, boy. And if it's chores you're escapin', well, I can think of plenty more I'd like done myself! The men don't keep the barracks clean enough for my liking, you see..." He laughed a little. They would have to go back home at some point.

The Captain may not have any patience for children, since he had yet to settle down with a good woman even, much less bring anyone into the world -- a shame, too, Faerghall thought -- but he didn't think he had much more patience for these boys either.

Faerghall stretched a little and mounted his horse again with a groan. "Well," he began idly, "I think I'll meander back towards the hall. I've got some chores to attend to myself," he said with a chuckle and a sidelong look to the boys. He had one of their names at least...all he had to do was find a woman looking for her no-good son to get him to go chop some wood or some such...

[Folwren]

Thornden shot a sidelong glance at Athanar. He felt his muscles tense in response to the flash of anger that Athanar showed. Although he had seen it more than once in the last two days, he could not get used to the show of fierceness, however brief, in this new eorl. Thornden hoped that he did not become truly angry and decide to do something more drastic than raise his voice. He thought about the soldiers outside, and lord Faramund’s soldiers. Surely, lord Athanar would not become so furious himself that the men would actually be called to fight…or surely he would not provoke lord Faramund to that point.

Thornden looked again at Faramund. He knew that his fuse was short, and pushed too far he could become violent. He had seen it before. When he and the other two lords had come to Scarburg, Faramund had threatened to draw sword in the hall. Only the presence of lord Tancred had kept Faramund under control. Now it the situation was even more dangerous, and Thornden began to hope that Athanar would not try to lord it over him quite so much, despite his rights as the new Eorl.

[littlemanpoet]

Once lady Wynflaed's back was seen to disappear through the door, and a few more seconds passed, Falco cleared his throat.

"Seeing, my dear Lady Saeryn, as the new Lady is now gone from this dining hall, you can tell me your true mind, eh?" He glanced at the others. "And that goes for the rest of you too, I wager."

He picked up his tankard and took a pull, eyeing one after another over the wide brim. News there was, and he knew he'd have it from them soon.

[Eönwë]

"I'm glad to see you of all people."

Dan had seen Erbrand coming out of the Scar, seemingly in pain. He was trying to hide it and put on a brave face, but Dan could see that Erbrand had been in some sort of fight or struggle. He did not look injured, but was hurt nonetheless. What could have done this? thought Dan. He was a strong man, one not easily beaten in a fight, and so Dan was at a loss. His immediate thought was that it must have been someone from one of the surrounding lands, someone under the lordships of the land landlords that had opposed Eodwine's rule.

He thought back to that fateful day. The had all seen Eodwine, sent away in a wagon in the night. Sent to Edoras, where they hoped he could have been healed. They had seen the grief in Lady Saeryn's eyes as her newlywed husband was borne away into the the darkness before dusk. She had hardened her heart, determined to stay in the Meadhall until the landlords had left, to stay strong and defend her household even when she was in despair. He held an admiration for the woman. And they had heard that Eodwine had been sent to Minas Tirith to the Houses of Healing, where the skill of the Gondorian healers would tend to the eorl. The people of the Meadhall had moved on from the initial shock into despair, which gave way to a distant sadness as those of Scarburg realised that their Eorl might never return.

Dan had thought of leaving this place and moving on to Edoras, but he had searched inside himself and realised that his allegiances lay with the people of Scarburg, and even though their lord was lost, he would stay to help rebuild the Meadhall. And besides, though he was still considered somewhat of an outsider, he had been accepted into the Meadhall and had made some friends, like Erbrand...

This thoughts had returned to the present, shaken out of his daydream. Erbrand was standing there, looking at Dan expectantly, waiting for a response.

"What happened?" Dan had asked, not having time to think of a more tactful way to address the situation at hand.

Erbrand paused for a moment, and it had seemed to the Drûg that he had not yet organised the events in his head, and was still trying to piece the events together.

"I... I was sitting out in the Scar, as you know I do, hoping to find tracks of an animal to hunt. But alas, there was no normal quarry. Several days ago I had seen tracks - prints - not of an animal, but of a man, and I knew they were not my own."

Dan winced, dreading the story to come, and filling with guilt. He was trying to work out what he would say, and how he could justify his passed actions. The dazed Erbrand continued.

"I heard a rustling in the trees, but as I came closer I realised that it was not me ambushing it, but it (and it was a person), was ambushing me. And I was attacked." At this, Dan's face filled with regret, knowing he could have prevented this, and that he could have made the Scar a safer place if he had not kept his promise. But Dan was a man of his word, and would not betray someone he had made a promise to, even a mysterious and seemingly (at the time) harmless stranger.

"Then he hit me over the head with the notched end of his staff. And when I woke up, I was alone, with only my knife and Traveller beside me," he finished.

Dan looked at Erbrand expectantly, but he seemed to have fallen silent, waiting for Dan to respond instead.

"So I suppose you want me to go back into the Scar with you to track down this attacker and bring him to the Meadhall."

"Yes, to put it plainly," replied the bruised Erbrand. "But it seems to me that you know more than you say, as you do not seem surprised at this news."

"Alas, it is true. I know who the rapscallion is. And I know his name, or at least the one he gave me. Oeric, he calls himself."

He looked as Erbrand as the other man seemed to piece things together, and looked at Dan in realisation. "So when you..."

"Yes, I did indeed meet him. I have never so far not successfully tracked my quarry. But also another man did I meet there, Scyld."

"So you..." began Erbrand.

"Yes, I lied. I lied to Eodwine and I lied to all of you. Oeric said that he needed time to prepare before he arrived, and I believed him, I believed the lying scoundrel!" Dan broke down for a second. After recomposing himself, he continued. "So I brought Scyld to the camp instead of Oeric, because he was willing to come, he wanted to enter in Oeric's place, and I let him!" Dan stopped for breath. His stomach clenched with guilt. "I was going to... was going to... tell Eodwine, but I kept on putting it off, hoping that the problem would sort itself out, that Oeric would be true to his side of the promise, but I was mistaken. And now he has attacked one of us."

Dan stopped. The guilt came flooding in, his heart was pounding, and he could feel his ears ringing. He waited for Erbrand to say something, anything, just to shift the focus away for himself, even for a second so that he could compose his thoughts.

[Durelin]

Coen nodded at Thornden with a light smile in polite gratitude when he was acknowledged, but he nearly sighed aloud again as the man continued. Regardless of how temporary any of this would be - and Coen did not know the precise orders of the king - Athanar and the Lady Wynflaed would replace the former Eorl and his wife. If Athanar took up his duties, he was the Eorl. He was even more so the Eorl if appointed by the king. For all these people respected work and duty, they seemed to be more concerned with titles and power at the moment.

Coen admired Athanar's calm and diplomatic response. He did not repeat anything about replacement, or titles, but rather turned it into the hard truth of the matter - strong leadership was needed for the center of this new Mid-Emnet to live and grow.

The captain was relieved when Athanar gave him leave, though a bit embarrassed that his discomfort had been that apparent to his lord. Thinking about how he would apologize to Athanar later, as well as thank him for the opportunity to take part in the meeting, Coen rose and bowed to his lord before bowing in general to the rest of the company and left the hall.

[Folwren]

“No, you are right,” Thornden said. “We do need to come up with a unified front, if we are to have the people follow us as we wish them to. If we do not work together, the entire populace of this hall will be set one against the other, and that is not lady Saeryn’s wish.”

Searyn finally spoke up. Her voice was held in careful check as she responded. “Of course you are right.” She looked from Athanar to Wynflaed and back. “And of course your wife must take my place, as long as you are eorl here.” The simple fact was that she had no will power to continue arguing her side. Fair or not, she had come up against a hard wall of authority and she could do nothing about it. Athanar, so far as she knew, was in his rights. But it did not lessen the fact that she felt passionately angry and very wronged. She kept her storming emotions in check only with great difficulty and immense use of control.

“I will not interfere when I need not,” she said. “But at least grant me the right to mention to you and expect your attention when I see a problem that needs to be addressed. I will not be brushed aside in my own home.”

Thornden turned his eyes from Saeryn to Athanar, admiring her strength and wondering, at the same time, what Athanar’s answer would be.

--
Javan, in the courtyard

Javan was one of those organized to help with the unloading of the wagons. He attended to the maid’s orders to be careful, but he found them soon becoming tiresome, as it did not seem to matter how carefully they placed the trunks on the ground and she still complained. His attention was hardly drawn to the fight, until he saw Lilige shrink against the wagon.

“Is brawling a common pastime here?” she asked. Her voice was tense and frightened. Javan straightened and looked over the wagon to what appeared to be Harreld breaking up a fight.

He shook his head. “No.” He looked again. It had been Matrim in the fight. “No, the men never fight. Sometimes the boys fight.” He didn’t include the fact that he was one of the said boys. “But the men don’t.” And he bent again to his work.

“How did the fight start?” she asked.

Javan once more straightened to look. The two soldiers who had been fighting were standing before the officer in charge. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Your man probably said something or did something not quite acceptable.”

[Nienna]

Ædre heard her name called and was pulled out of her thoughts.

“Ædre darling… go with uncle Fulcher.”

“Yes, papa” she said sweetly while silently plotting ways to ditch Fulcher. They had been travelling for a while and she just wanted time to herself. She wanted to explore this new place she was supposed to call home, without a nursemaid. “I am not a baby” she thought to herself.

“Uncle, I’m going to use the privy. I’ll come right back.”

Fulcher nodded, happy for a reprieve from the spoiled child if even for a short time. He was glad to do whatever Athanar asked of him but he could be of more use than being the chaperon to a difficult girl.

Ædre wandered in the direction of where she assumes the privy to be and then as soon as she was out of viewing distance she changed direction and headed toward the stable. She wanted to make sure these new people would take proper care of her horse and maybe have some time to be away from all these people.

She walked into the stable and looked around. Thankfully she was able to sneak in unnoticed. She looked quickly around until she found her chestnut brown mare and slipped into the stall. Leta whinnied as Ædre pulled out her favorite brush and began grooming. The motion soothed both horse and owner from the stress of the move. Ædre began talking to her horse a way to get her thoughts out.

“I know dear, it’s not as nice here but you have been groomed and fed well. Don’t worry I won’t let these people hurt you. You are the only one who understands me; I won’t let anything happen to you.” She kept talking and grooming until she heard someone enter the stable.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Degas, not wishing to alarm the child, called out, "Hello?" rather than simply entering.

He heard what sounded like a dropped brush, or something about that size and weight.

"Is there somebody in here?" He knew there was, but from what he'd heard, the cooing voice of a girl, he was beginning to suspect that it might be Athanar's child, and he knew little of her. As a consequence, he dealt with her like he would a scared dog: he gave her plenty of warning of his advance, speaking gently and calmly as he moved forward so that she wouldn't panic and snap at him.

When he reached the stall, he looked into it and saw Ædre. The horse blew irritably at him, to all appearances seeming like she was chastising him for interrupting a private moment.

"I am Degas," he said. "You are Ædre?"

She nodded, looking quickly at the door, and he wondered if she was supposed to be here.

"She's very beautiful," he said, reaching into his belt purse. He held out his hand, in which sat a few small wafers consisting of baked grains and apple. "Does she like treats?"

[Nienna]

Ædre dropped her brush when she heard someone call out “hello?” She glanced around quickly wondering if there was any way of escape. She realized there were none and huddled closer to Leta. The strange man walked into the stable and started talking to her. She barely looked at him and heard very little of what he said.

“She’s very beautiful. Does she like treats?”

Ædre noticed that he seemed to be waiting for an answer so she nodded her head in thanks and in answer to his question.

She then stuttered “I am sorry. I must go,” as she ran past him and out of the stable.