Scarburg Meadhall

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Degas steered Gleowyn with his knees, letting his hands rest on the pommel lazily. "I think that if Eodwine does not live, you will be hard-pressed to oust a family that has comfortably settled in your home. I think they would give you what they call 'special treatment' and allow you to stay, and they may not even mean it as an insult. I do not think they are malicious or manipulative, and I thought Athanar's wife was quite charming. I merely think that they mustn't be allowed to treat you as an inferior. You are graciously allowing them to stay in your home, on your lands. It is not the reverse."

[Nogrod]

Garstan and Stigend heard the cries and as fathers immediately recognised them as voices of children. They dropped the loads they were carrying and ran towards the screaming. Harreld followed them.

They saw Coenred holding the young daughter of the new eorl, her nose bleeding and her clothes all messed up. And Javan was there looking both guilty and firm, and they heard his words: “But, no, you’re right. He wouldn’t be pleased about it at all.”

Stigend sighed first from relief realising that Cnebba was not the culprit this time... but it didn't look good either. He could not make out Coenred's expression in reaction to Javan's words and had it hard to come to grips with the situation. But he felt a need to act before things could take a turn for worse.

"Javan! What is it? Now go back to your work and let us settle this thing... and don't think Thornden will not hear of this." With a commanding wave of hand Stigend hushed Javan away from the situation - aided with the grave looks of Garstan and Harreld. Javan had no intention to disobey but ran away with relief.

"Sorry about that, Cap'n... Coenred it was?" Garstan addressed the Captain.

Coenred nodded - looking like he was not quite sure how to react to the sudden interruption.

"Javan there is a bit hot-headed lad, we should know that, but in no way would he have assaulted a young girl unprovoked..." Harreld voiced firmly looking at Coenred to the eyes.

"So what happened?" Stigend queried.

Garstan had observed Coenred's expressions closely and then went for the real issue: "I'm afraid there is no way we can keep this little incident secret to the benefit of all... but what's your bet on not making a mountain out of the molehill?"

[Loslote]

"No, Lilige," said Wynflaed, "I should like some time alone, in fact. You are dismissed until the banquet."

As Lilige turned to go Wynflaed held up her hand. "You will, however, come and fetch me if you think there are any matters that need my attention? I fear my husband might be difficult to find."

Lilige curtseyed and left, closing the door behind her. She paused for a moment outside, wondering what to do next. She headed toward the courtyard. Hopefully there would be something to do there.

As she left the Meadhall, she stopped for a moment to take in the view of the bustling courtyard. Her gaze moved casually over the scenery. Then she frowned. Coenred was standing near two screaming children. As she watched, three other men ran over. The young boy was dismissed, and Lilige shook her head. Evidently brawling is common here, she thought disapprovingly. Still, it was just between children this time. No harm done. Then she saw who was standing with the four men.

Lady Aedre's face was covered in blood. She was scowling furiously. Lilige wavered a bit on her feet. "Lady Aedre!" she called, horrified, as she ran up. "My Lady, what's happened to you? We must get you to your mother."

This would never have happened in Edoras, Lilige thought. Oh, poor, poor Aedre! What will her mother say? And Lord Athanar! They will be furious.

"Come, Aedre," Lilige urged. "Let's go to your mother. I'm sure she'll know what to do."

[Folwren]

Saeryn and Degas

“Yes, that is how I think of it, too. But now that they have come, I have been reduced to a visitor in my own house.” She paused. They were coming near the Hall now. Degas was riding towards the stables from the back entrance, so they could avoid the prying eyes of all the people in the courtyard. “How long will you be able to stay, Degas?” she asked.

“As long as you need me, sister,” he said. She hugged him around the waist.

They rode into the stables and Degas stopped Gleowyn. Saeryn slid off. “Thank you for coming to get me,” she said, looking up at him. “It eased my mind a great deal to speak with you.” She turned and walked away. She paused and turned again. “Degas...promise me one thing. Don’t start an argument tonight. Whether we feel that I am being treated right or not, we have to keep a single front before the people.”

Degas smiled a strained smile and hugged Saeryn around the shoulders. "For a moment there I thought of saying, incredulously, "Who do you take me for?" until I remembered that it's not so long ago that I probably would have challenged the man to a duel as a matter of foolish pride. He weighs more than me yes, but I'd bet a great deal I'm faster and could win..."

He shushed Saeryn with his hand before she could say anything.

"Don't worry, sister. The troubles of nobles should never be made the troubles of commoners, and this Emnet has enough problems without our revealing to the people that we question our superiors." He swore. "Really, Saer, it would be a nightmare if commoners got it into their heads that it is acceptable to talk back. We protect and govern them in return for their loyalty and obedience. As long as we are good rulers, commoners absolutely must remain good subjects. No, we can't show them by example that they may question or refuse. Upon both of our honors, Saeryn, I swear that I will not fight with anyone tonight, no matter how I am baited to do so."

"Thank you," she said, her voice hushed. She smiled up at him. "I love you." She hugged him one last time before turning, at last, and leaving him alone to put Gleowyn up.

--
Javan

The courtyard was not an ideal place to have a fight. Everyone swooped down on them almost instantly, like vultures to carrion. He felt less and less sure himself with each new bystander.

“Javan! What is it?” Javan turned to face the carpenter and lifted his shoulders and hands in a slight shrug, giving the impression that he had little answer to offer. “Get back to your work and let us settle this thing.” Javan turned away, and Stigend sent after him, “And don’t think Thornden won’t hear of this!” Javan dug his hands into his pockets and his shoulders slumped forward. Several paces away, he turned his head to look over his shoulder. The men were talking, and then up came the maid, Lilige, running across the courtyard with her petticoats flashing about her knees.

“Lady Ædre!” Javan grimaced with disgust. He could hear her shrill voice from where he stood, and as she came nearer, he could hear her even better. “My lady, what happened to you?” My lady? She’s a rude girl! He paused, though, to hear what else she said. “Come, Ædre. Let’s go to your mother. I’m sure she’ll know what to do.”

Javan ducked his head lower and slunk away into the stables. The place was filled with the sounds of horses eating, slowly moving in their stalls, and sometimes nickering to one another. Léof was no where in sight. Silently, Javan let himself into Flíthaf’s stall. The horse turned his head from the manger and looked at him, then returned to his hay. Javan went to the farthest corner from the door and sat down.

He had not been there for long before he heard Garmund’s and Cnebba’s voices outside the stall. They were whispering to each other, not as though they did not wish to be heard, but merely because no one else was near and for some reason, to speak quietly seemed most appropriate. Then Garmund’s face peered over the door. His eyes met Javan’s and he turned back out.

“He’s here.” Cnebba came up to the door and looked over. “Can we come in?” Garmund asked. Javan nodded. They both came into the stall. Flíthaf flicked his tail and went on eating. Javan stood up and leaned against the wall, folding his arms in front of him.

“Well...am I wanted?”

Garmund and Cnebba shook their heads no.

“Listen, you two. Just ‘cause she’s the daughter of the new eorl doesn’t mean she can boss us around like she was trying to do to you, Cnebba. She’s just a girl and she isn’t any older than me, and she’s new here. You don’t have to take everything she gives you without speaking up for yourself.”

“But she’ll get mad, then, and hit us, like she did to you,” Garmund said. “And we’re not allowed. . .we’re not supposed to hit girls back.”

“Cnebba told you, huh?” Javan asked, giving him a keen glance. He stood up right and let his hands come down to a more relaxed position.

“Yes.”

“Do you blame me?”

“I don’t think so. You were just sticking up for Cnebba.”

“Well, sure,” Javan said, a spark of fierce loyalty lighting his eyes. “If I didn’t say anything, she’d intimidate him so much he’d do whatever she asked whenever she asked it! Then she’d try taking you down, and I’d be next. She had to be stopped.”

“Lord Athanar is going to be very angry,” Cnebba said in a very small voice.

Javan folded his arms again and leaned back once more against the wall. “I don’t care,” he said defiantly.

“He might throw you in the dungeon,” Garmund said.

“We don’t have a dungeon,” Javan reminded him.

“He might tie you up.”

“Eodwine did that much.”

“He might beat you.”

Javan’s chin tilted upward slightly. He pressed his lips hard together before answering. “I’ll bear it.”

There was a heavy silence among the three of them. A sound drew all three pairs of eyes towards the door. Footsteps walking down between the stalls. They froze, waiting for it to pass. But the footsteps stopped outside the stall.

After finishing speaking with Degas, Saeryn headed through the stables to the courtyard. On her way past, she looked into Flíthaf’s stall to make sure that he had been put back into his rightful place. To her surprise, the stall not only contained the horse but also the three boys of Scarburg.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

[Thinlómien]

Cnebba

"What are you doing here?"

The boys exchanged glances.

"We are talking, my lady," Cnebba said brightly and in his most courteous manner. He smiled unsurely, he didn't know if this was a sufficient reply. He added:

"About kids' things."

His smile turned smug. He remembered the dozens of times when adults had dismissed his questions by answering they were talking about adults' things. Now the adults could get a taste of their own medicine.

~*~

Modtryth

Modtryth had hung the meat to dry and was about to go back to fetch more stuff to the kitchen, when a bruised-looking soldier popped in. He looked around suspiciously.

"Food," he said, looking at Modtryth suspiciously.

Modtryth crossed her arms on her chest. "The cooks are currently working on the dinner, which will be served soon enough. I trust your lord has given you sufficient provisions to manage for the earlier part of the day."

The man's eyes narrowed a bit. "Heartless cow," he mumbled and turned to leave.

"Wait," Modtryth said, more out of duty than out of any willingness to help the stranger. "Here's water and a clean rug. Those bruises could do with a cleaning."

The man glanced at Modtryth. "I can take care of myself, woman," he said and left the kitchen.

"What a nasty man," Ginna exclaimed empathically as the door closed after the newcomer.
Modtryth waved the complaint away. She was used to such behavior, any person with more experience in the serving jobs than the young noblewoman would be.

Soon the other door opened. In stepped another newly arrived soldier. Undoubtedly asking for food like the previous one. Sighing, Modtryth took a step forwards to meet the man. She clenched her jaw. A quick look at the soldier told her that he was not of the type to be bossed around by kitchen women like the previous one had been.

Modtryth offered the man just enough smile not to be impolite. "Good day to you! How can I help you?"

[Gwathagor]

Crabannan waited in the Hall with an enormously heavy trunk, waiting to be told what to do with it. This was his fifth trip from the wagons to the Hall and they were making significant headway. Trying not to think about the weight, he looked around, admiring the rough timbers and clean, gray stone - and suddenly he realized how much of his own sweat he had poured into the construction of the edifice. It took him aback for a moment. He frowned in surprise.

Curses, he thought. I think I enjoyed it. I may have even made a friend or two.

The notion made him uneasy for some reason he could not pinpoint. For weeks on end his sword and bow had lain dormant, his hands more frequently taking up the harp at the end of a long, satisfying day of labor. They would sit around the fire, drink, play music, and sing of actions bold and violent. But their weapons had been the hammer and chisel, the plow and the scythe.

He dropped the trunk.

"Mordor take it," he muttered, "I'm hungry." He stomped off towards the kitchen, reflecting grimly that if these fine new nobles from Edoras continued as they had begun, he might need his sword and bow very soon indeed. There had been two fights already today among the children and he guessed that those same tensions were present in the adults, only held back behind the mask of manners.

Crabannan shook his head. No, if it came to trouble, he'd clear out right away. He had no desire, indeed, no right to get involved.

He strode at a swift pace into the kitchen, buried in his thoughts, and ran smack into a large soldier. He jumped back in surprise, and the soldier stumbled, regained his feet, and turned around looking very irritated. Crabannan winced for a moment, thinking he recognized the soldier, but then realized the fellow was new.

"Pardon," said Crabannan. "Apparently I'm not the only one looking for something to eat." He raised an eyebrow hopefully at Modtryth.

[Mnemosyne]

Wynflaed had finished arranging her personal effects just so on a sideboard--Lilige would see them there, remember their exact positions, and ensure they were always where they were supposed to be--when she heard the scuffle of swift footsteps coming down the hallway.

It was Lilige, looking moderately flustered, and--AEdre? Her daughter had dust on her dress, and--her mothering heart surged in her--blood upon her fair face. Wynflaed could not stop the look of horror on her countenance.

"AEdre, what happened?" she said. Then, more calmly, "Lilige, a basin of water and some soft rags, please. I shall, when you are finished, wish to know how you learned of this."