Scarburg Meadhall - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Gwathagor · 09-08-2011, 03:56 PM

“Is the man that learns to lead a lesser leader because he had to learn it?" asked Nydfara.

"He is until he learns it," shot back Crabannan, wondering what Nydfara's horse in this race was. The man had scarcely been here more than a few months, and his look was not of a man who cared for rulers and politics. He reminded Crabannan of a crow or a jackal. He reminded Crabannan of himself, and for that reason he was suspicious.

"And what do you care? You're even more of a stranger here than I am."

Firefoot · 09-08-2011, 05:37 PM

“More of a stranger?” Scyld echoed, raising an eyebrow. He had not expected a personal attack, but was not flustered by it. He thought for a moment, looking Crabannan over. “I believe we arrived here at nearly the same time. I have lived here and worked here the same as you – why should I not care? More than that, I have lived in Rohan the whole of my life, while you, I gather, have moved around. By my reckoning, that makes me less of a stranger here than you.” He smiled at Crabannan in an attempt to remove any sting from his words, but privately he thought: I have lived nearly my whole life within five miles of the ground where I stand; no stranger am I to this place. Only to its people – and they are the true strangers.

“But you admit yourself a stranger here, though you have lived here longer than any of these soldiers,” Scyld continued with a gesture around at the others, “so I might turn the question back to you: why do you care so much?”

Gwathagor · 09-08-2011, 06:06 PM

"Yes, I've moved around," replied Crabannan hotly. "I've been a kitchen-boy, a woodsman, a guide, many things much worse, and I've played the harp for kings from here to Farthest Rhun to Deepest Harad and back again - but I fought for Rohan! Where were you during the war?"

He stepped back a bit, trying not to betray his chagrin at having let this slip. He kept his eyes on the soldiers; not apprehensive, just careful. Observing.

"As I've said, this is none of my concern. In the end, you could all run this Emnet into the ground and I'd be none the worse for it. But I care not least because I lost several pints of blood on this stupid, flat patch of earth."

Legate of Amon Lanc · 09-09-2011, 07:38 AM

After his outburst, Hilderinc turned back to his work, trying to collect himself. Slowly, the cold, reasonable part of him, trained by years, came back. He was once again thinking soberly. What was this nonsense about? he said to himself. How could I have let myself to act so stupidly? So childishly? Don't I know better? Did I not just talk about maturity? And look at how I acted!

Now probably the most embarassing thing he felt about this outburst was that it caught him unawares – he had thought that he had managed to gain control over himself, that he had mastered his actions with the cold reasoning of his own mind. This was a shock, perhaps a hint that there was still some small, hidden part of his old self that he could not master – and that thought itself was a terror to him. Since the end of the War, he had been living the life of a mercenary, a simple soldier, caring only about his immediate orders, keeping his mind on simple things here and now. This had also managed to keep him feeling safe, knowing that he would not unleash from his memory anything he wanted to forget. Even now, as he mastered himself, he forced himself to cease thinking about the subject – feeling somewhere deep inside the fear that starting to follow but one thread of this thinking could lead him too far.

He turned to listen to the other men, finding out that the subject of their discussion was not any better for him if he tried to forget about the time of the Great War. He could not help, however, but to be impressed by Crabannan's account of his experiences. Long time ago, he had asked Crabannan if he was a Woodman, he did not get an answer back then, but whatever Crabannan was, it was clear now that this man came from afar and had seen much more of the world than Hilderinc ever would. There was something in Crabannan, indeed, that reminded Hilderinc of himself – perhaps it was the likely shared experience of wishing to leave something behind. Perhaps it was the horrors of the War, perhaps it was something else. But what seemed peculiar to Hilderinc was Crabannan's proclaimed loyalty to the Mark.

"As I've said, this is none of my concern. In the end, you could all run this Emnet into the ground and I'd be none the worse for it. But I care not least because I lost several pints of blood on this stupid, flat patch of earth."

"Why did you, then?" he said aloud, raising his head. "You did not really answer Nydfara's question, either. You are a stranger, yet you admit fighting for – as you say - Rohan... What made you lose these, as you say, pints of blood for this land? What ideals did you follow? What did you see – or what did you think you saw – that made you fight for it?"

09-08-2011, 03:56 PM	#1
Gwathagor Shade with a Blade Join Date: Aug 2007 Location: A Rainy Night In Soho Posts: 2,512	“Is the man that learns to lead a lesser leader because he had to learn it?" asked Nydfara. "He is until he learns it," shot back Crabannan, wondering what Nydfara's horse in this race was. The man had scarcely been here more than a few months, and his look was not of a man who cared for rulers and politics. He reminded Crabannan of a crow or a jackal. He reminded Crabannan of himself, and for that reason he was suspicious. "And what do you care? You're even more of a stranger here than I am." Last edited by Gwathagor; 09-08-2011 at 05:40 PM.

09-08-2011, 06:06 PM	#3
Gwathagor Shade with a Blade Join Date: Aug 2007 Location: A Rainy Night In Soho Posts: 2,512	"Yes, I've moved around," replied Crabannan hotly. "I've been a kitchen-boy, a woodsman, a guide, many things much worse, and I've played the harp for kings from here to Farthest Rhun to Deepest Harad and back again - but I fought for Rohan! Where were you during the war?" He stepped back a bit, trying not to betray his chagrin at having let this slip. He kept his eyes on the soldiers; not apprehensive, just careful. Observing. "As I've said, this is none of my concern. In the end, you could all run this Emnet into the ground and I'd be none the worse for it. But I care not least because I lost several pints of blood on this stupid, flat patch of earth." Last edited by Gwathagor; 09-09-2011 at 02:17 AM.

09-08-2011, 05:37 PM	#2
Firefoot Illusionary Holbytla Join Date: Dec 2003 Posts: 7,547	“More of a stranger?” Scyld echoed, raising an eyebrow. He had not expected a personal attack, but was not flustered by it. He thought for a moment, looking Crabannan over. “I believe we arrived here at nearly the same time. I have lived here and worked here the same as you – why should I not care? More than that, I have lived in Rohan the whole of my life, while you, I gather, have moved around. By my reckoning, that makes me less of a stranger here than you.” He smiled at Crabannan in an attempt to remove any sting from his words, but privately he thought: I have lived nearly my whole life within five miles of the ground where I stand; no stranger am I to this place. Only to its people – and they are the true strangers. “But you admit yourself a stranger here, though you have lived here longer than any of these soldiers,” Scyld continued with a gesture around at the others, “so I might turn the question back to you: why do you care so much?”

09-09-2011, 07:38 AM	#4
Legate of Amon Lanc A Voice That Gainsayeth Join Date: Nov 2006 Location: In that far land beyond the Sea Posts: 7,431	After his outburst, Hilderinc turned back to his work, trying to collect himself. Slowly, the cold, reasonable part of him, trained by years, came back. He was once again thinking soberly. What was this nonsense about? he said to himself. How could I have let myself to act so stupidly? So childishly? Don't I know better? Did I not just talk about maturity? And look at how I acted! Now probably the most embarassing thing he felt about this outburst was that it caught him unawares – he had thought that he had managed to gain control over himself, that he had mastered his actions with the cold reasoning of his own mind. This was a shock, perhaps a hint that there was still some small, hidden part of his old self that he could not master – and that thought itself was a terror to him. Since the end of the War, he had been living the life of a mercenary, a simple soldier, caring only about his immediate orders, keeping his mind on simple things here and now. This had also managed to keep him feeling safe, knowing that he would not unleash from his memory anything he wanted to forget. Even now, as he mastered himself, he forced himself to cease thinking about the subject – feeling somewhere deep inside the fear that starting to follow but one thread of this thinking could lead him too far. He turned to listen to the other men, finding out that the subject of their discussion was not any better for him if he tried to forget about the time of the Great War. He could not help, however, but to be impressed by Crabannan's account of his experiences. Long time ago, he had asked Crabannan if he was a Woodman, he did not get an answer back then, but whatever Crabannan was, it was clear now that this man came from afar and had seen much more of the world than Hilderinc ever would. There was something in Crabannan, indeed, that reminded Hilderinc of himself – perhaps it was the likely shared experience of wishing to leave something behind. Perhaps it was the horrors of the War, perhaps it was something else. But what seemed peculiar to Hilderinc was Crabannan's proclaimed loyalty to the Mark. "As I've said, this is none of my concern. In the end, you could all run this Emnet into the ground and I'd be none the worse for it. But I care not least because I lost several pints of blood on this stupid, flat patch of earth." "Why did you, then?" he said aloud, raising his head. "You did not really answer Nydfara's question, either. You are a stranger, yet you admit fighting for – as you say - Rohan... What made you lose these, as you say, pints of blood for this land? What ideals did you follow? What did you see – or what did you think you saw – that made you fight for it?"