Scarburg Meadhall

[littlemanpoet]

Garreth watched the soldier, Scyrr, towering over Léof, hearing his wild talk, and scowled. When the man shook off Quin, he set his tankard down and half turned in his seat as if ready to get up and take matters into his own hands.

Harreld saw his brother's restive move and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Calm, Garreth," he said in his ear. "The man's had too much to drink. If all he has is words, there's been no call to act."

Garreth turned to his brother. "The moment he takes a swing at Léof or anyone else, I'm wrestling him down. You with me?"

Harreld hesitated, looking around. He noticed Coen standing against the wall, casting a watchful eye around the room, including Scyrr. "Wait and see." He nodded in Coen's direction.

"You wait and see. He's too far away. I'll keep this man from beating up our friend if nobody else will."

Harreld looked at his brother reproachfully. He'd come to Scarburg angry and stayed that way, had been spoiling for some kind of fight since the day he'd arrived. If Garreth got himself into a fight, Harreld knew that he would wrestle him out of it if he could. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. He was impressed that so far Garreth had kept his words to himself. That was something, but not much.

[Firefoot]

"Ask your wannabe friend what he would like to see us do," Scyrr growled at Quin. "He would love to see us gone! Yes, both me and you! He would be much happier back with just his old friends, isn't it so?"

Léof stared at Scyrr in distaste and irritation. He was sick of being hounded and picked on, and seeing Scyrr transfer the same sort of treatment to Quin just bothered him more. He stood up to show his support to Quin.

“Only half-right," said Léof. "You're the only one here I'd like to see gone. Leave us alone."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc was standing outside, under the bright stars of the chilly evening. He breathed in and out, savouring the crisp air. Gone was the damp smell of the moors, gone was the scent of the trees from the nearby woods he had been smelling on the first days after his arrival. The winter was coming mercilessly and its sharp sting of frost had dulled all the scents. Now any of the smells hardly stayed in the air, least of all by night when the world was asleep. Yet there was still some pleasant flavour in the air, one of the things Hilderinc had begun to like about Scarburg almost at the very beginning. Now at the threshold of winter, it was the almost painful, yet pleasant sharpness of the night breeze, the soft scent of smoke and wood, so unlike the smell of smoke and grass in the wild wind of Edoras, so unlike the smell of open fires in the camps of Wold, and so much unlike the smell of smoke, fire and steel so long ago, in the times of the Great War, which the wind had carried over the Isen.

Hilderinc stopped, gazing at the stars twinkling above the dark formless silhouette of the kitchen building. Only a small sliver of light was coming through a crack – perhaps a not throroughly closed window - otherwise, it was all dark.

Why did I once again think about the War, he wondered at the last flash of memory, peering into the distance as if he could find an answer there. As if today had tried to bring it back to me now.

Yet now and here, under the bright star-strewn sky of the last days of autumn, he felt as if he had nothing to fear for the moment. Perhaps there was something Elvish in that night with myriads of small shiny dots above him, but Hilderinc would not have thought of it like that. Any thought of accidentally opening something that he would have liked to remain forgotten deep in his mind was simply gone, as if he could be sure that the keys to his worst memories were safely out of his reach now. He could just think, freely think and ponder the strange events that had led him to become so fierce on that morning, when helping Crabannan, Nydfara and the others to build the sheep-pen.

He had already got past the initial puzzlement over his reactions. Now he was just embarassed, still embarassed with himself, but not because of what he had done, but because of feeling so embarassed in the first place, and because of having to spend so much time thinking about it.

It was not such a big deal, he thought again. Everybody can explode in anger at some point. The important thing is not to act like a kid all the time. And I didn't. I told Crabannan what I had been thinking. And that I still care? Isn't it good to know that I actually still care about some things? Isn't it good that I care about what people think?

He frowned slightly, trying to make his mind up.

It might be this situation which brings back so many memories, he thought suddenly and if that strange, Elvish-evening mood still had not been resting about him, he might have became worried. The two groups of men, the division within their ranks - the uncertainity, the mistrust in the powers and the justice of the lord... just like back then. It had not been in my power to stop people following what I had believed to be misguided notion... I had not been in any position to do that... yet what is my position now?

He looked down and kicked a single small rock with the tip of his boot. It flew several feet and dully thudded into the shutter of the kitchen's window. Hilderinc straightened himself.

I serve Athanar, he told to himself. That is what I am now, and I should serve him. But is it not, after all, the very thing I have been trying to do since my first day here, even though I have not been consciously aware of it - to bring these two groups to reconciliation? Is this not the smallest thing I can do, here and now, to make all these rows between 'old' and 'new' Scarburgians stop?

Everything seemed calm and he felt he cold night air on his face. He stood outside the kitchen, in silence, thinking.

***

Scyrr clenched his fists as Léof had told him so boldly to leave, and it would have sufficed just a little and he might have struck him. But somehow, suddenly, as if some realisation came to him, he paused in thought.

"I am the only one you want to see gone?" he repeated, eyeing all the men at the table. "Really, are you?" Suddenly his face twisted into a triumphant smile. "Tell me, then, what about lord Athanar? Do you want him gone, too? Is it not that you want to see me and him gone, huh? You see," and he leaned closer to Léof, almost as if he was talking to a close friend, yet his face had an unmistakeable menacing look, "I think I've heard you wishing something like that in the morning, boy! Ha!" He roared triumphantly and stood up straight again, as much as his condition had allowed him to.

"And wanting him gone means wanting us all gone, just so that you know," he added matter-of-factly, raising his eyebrows and pointing at Quin. "So don't you go tell-tales on us, kid!"

[Folwren]

Quin looked back and forth between Scyrr and Léof as they exchanged words. Léof’s boldness surprised him, and he feared that Scyrr would strike out in drunken anger. He prepared to step in if Scyrr even appeared to threaten to hit Léof, but after he didn’t. Quin was surprised at first that he chose not to fight, but his poisonous and hateful words soon explained Scyrr’s decision to change his course. It had always been his wont to insult and get under his opponents skin and to irritate them, like a fly that buzzed rather than a wasp that stung.

He cast his eye on Quin and something else entered his mind to jab at Léof. “And wanting him gone means wanting us all gone, just so that you know. So don't you go tell-tales on us, kid!"

Quin's eyes sparked as he felt the insult aimed at Léof. "Quit, Scyrr," he said. "Just stop. Léof isn't a child. You're a lout and a trouble-causer. Leave him alone, because if you bother him, you've got me to deal with, see? Now get out." He clenched his fists at his side as he spoke and stood squarely up to Scyrr. His heart beat a little faster after making his statement, for he really, really did not want to fight Scyrr. But he would, if he had to, and he made that clear in his expression as he met Scyrr's eyes.

[Durelin]

Coen watched as the stable boy stood up to face Scyrr and twisted his lips in frustration. The boy had some guts, he would give him that. Perhaps he was a little lacking in common sense at the moment, but not lacking as much as Scyrr. Coen sighed and worked his way over to the table, careful to avoid rushing servants. Scyrr bellowed some more, something about ‘wanting us all gone.’ The captain let out another sigh. Not more of this.

He came up by Scyrr’s side and laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. “What’re you doing picking on a lad, Scyrr?” He spoke just loud enough to make sure Scyrr heard him at the least and kept his voice plain. If all the man heard was an accusation he would keep on blustering. “Come on, let’s get back to the riders’ table.”

He ignored Quin and the stable hand, though he would make sure to have a word with them later.

~

Tyrdda kicked open the kitchen door, her hands full carrying a heavy bucket, scraps and kitchen waste -- she would pick out the decent bits for the dogs before taking the rest to be given to the pigs. She was just going to call for the dogs to come get their treat when she noticed the man hanging around the back of the kitchens.

She quirked an eyebrow and smiled a little. It was too dark for her eyes to recognize him, but the way he carried himself reminded her of a rider rather than one of the other servants. “If you’re looking for someone I don’t mind letting her know,” she said with a slightly suggestive tone.

[Firefoot]

Léof frowned faintly at Coenred's and Scyrr's retreating backs. The captain's words echoed in Leof's mind: “What’re you doing picking on a lad, Scyrr?” It was just like he'd said to Thornden earlier: to nearly all these newcomers, that's all he was. A lad, only to be picked on or dismissed. Maybe Scyrr wasn't so far gone in his accusations, thought Léof bitterly. Scyrr indeed was not the only one he wished gone. The truth was rather backwards from that – Quin was the only one he wished to stay. Was Quin's presence worth theirs? He wasn't sure.

He guessed that meant it was fortunate it was not his choice to make.

And it was still possible that he could get them all to see him and listen to him. He had ideas. They just needed to be put in place.

Recalling his earlier resolve helped him shake off the whole confrontation and sit back down at the table to enjoy the feast, if less jovially than before. “Well,” he said, “I guess that Scyrr pretty well just proved my point... looks like the riders still aren't too happy with me.” He looked over at Quin. "Or you either, now. I hope they won't cause trouble for you."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc looked up when the door to the kitchen opened and a woman came out. In the light coming from the doorframe, he could see her better than she could probably see him; he recognised her, but she was one of those he hardly got to know during his stay. He had not managed to get to know the women in Scarburg very well anyway, it had taken him at least some time (even though he had been ably aided by the gossiping of some riders like Áforglaed or Baldwic) to remember all the women's names and also (as a sort of unwanted result of listening to the gossip) to learn which of the local women are already "taken", as the riders put it.

Maybe as another result of some of the riders' attitude, the woman addressed him with probably similar thoughts in mind.

"If you're looking for someone I don't mind letting her know."

Hilderinc grinned involuntarily, his mood had been still lightened up somehow.

"No, thank you, but I am not in fact looking for anyone," he replied. "I know that I might be the only one, but I was just outside, clearing my head a bit. Even though," for the first time in a while he frowned slightly, remembering Scyrr and his mood at the time when he had left the hall, "even though there might be others inside to whom it might do some good to get some fresh air, too," he said, more like to himself. But he had immediately put himself into present again, recalling his good manners.

"But whatever is happening inside now - let me thank you for the meal today – a feast indeed, it was delicious," he added, half-acting a polite bow. "And these are not empty words, mind you – I have been in service in many different places and I know something about what it means to have good food on the table."