Scarburg Meadhall

[Firefoot]

Léof was amazed by how calm the boy was being, trying to show him what had happened. Léof couldn’t tell if the boy’s lack of words was because the boy was too young to talk much or if it was because he was in distress – he hadn’t spent that much time around small children. Even so, he found himself anxiously looking around for someone who actually knew about children to come and take the boy off his hands. He had reacted instinctively, but didn’t know what to do next.

“Why?” whimpered the boy.

“Well,” said Léof, hoping that talking would keep the boy from beginning to bawl, “fire makes the things it burns very hot, and when you touch hot things they burn you.” He didn’t know if the boy would understand this explanation or not, but fortunately just then someone ran up with a water pail.

“Thanks,” he said, paying no attention to who it was. He touched the water to make sure it wasn’t freezing. “Now,” he said to the boy, “you need to put your hand in the cold water, alright?”

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine came back from the kitchen with a wooden cup of mead. He sat down by Laerdil.

"Here is drink that is maybe worthy of an Elf. At least, we Eorlingas think it most worthy."

"My thanks."

Laerdil raised it to his nose and sniffed it first. His brow rose a moment, then he sipped. "It is good," he said, then put it down and plucked at his harp.

It was clear to Eodwine that Laerdil was not overly impressed. Not that it mattered.

Just then he caught out of the corner of his eye someone coming into the hall. Scyrr. An ill feeling came into Eodwine's belly. He would have to deal with this, and soon, like it or not. Best get it done. He waited for Scyrr to be seated, and stood across from him.

"Scyrr."

The man's frown deepened upon hearing his name. He wanted at this moment to be left alone so that he could fill his empty stomach and drink some water, and try to relieve the aching in his head. He looked up sullenly and his mood did not improve when he saw that it was Eodwine.

"What?" he asked.

"You insulted my wife and me last night. You are in my debt. Will you make amends willingly?"

"I may have said some hasty words, but it was the mead speaking, not me. And it was your wife who wronged me, sir, and she ought to say sorry to me."

This could make things more complicated, but it was one of the most classic tricks known to man - shifting blame. Eodwine allowed a hint of a smirk.

"That is another matter. We are sticking to this point for now. You own your own words, man, overflowing with mead or not. Will you make amends?"

"Your wife forced me to speak them, as you well know. I would not have spoken them were you not called out by name by her. But I have further quarrel to make with you - allowing your wife to address me on a problem that is clearly your authority to care for."

Eodwine had been mild but firm so far. This, however, was a variation on the accusation of the previous night. Eodwine looked down at him coldly. "Have you learned nothing, man? I give not two coins for who said what, or who sent whom when and where and how. You are proud and vain. What you think of me means less than nothing. But by your words and your deeds you are judged. You spoke insult against me and my wife last night. Will you make amends, or not? And Scyrr, be careful how you answer, for you tread close to the same as last night."

Scyrr leant back and spread his hands in a mock show of defeat. "Oh, I am sorry." His tone was insincere. "What would you have me do now, then?" He looked up at Eodwine, a challenge in his eyes. No, he would not directly defy Eodwine again, but his words were obviously nothing less than a rebellious challenge.

"Simple, soldier," Eodwine replied with a cold smile. "I would that you take your punishment like a man for your cheek. I will speak with your lord about this." With that he turned from the man and went back to the Elf. Yes, much better company, the Elf.

[Folwren]

Javan

Javan put the bucket down by Léof and stood with his arms crossed as he watched Léof try to coax the youngster into putting his hand into the water. He was not impressed that the tyke didn’t know that a stick that had been lying in the fire was hot. However, it was admirable how the little boy did not cry after those first screams. And, really, those yells had sounded more angry than hurt.

He crouched next to Léof, facing the child. “See? I got the water so it will stop the burning in your hand.” He stuck his hand in to demonstrate the procedure. “Aaaah,” he said, and popped his hand back out again. “Then it will be all better.”

--

Quin

He could not help but overhear Eodwine’s and Scyrr’s conversation, though throughout the duration of it, he kept his head down and his eyes on his trencher. He wished Scyrr had not sat so near him and that he did not have to hear it. With each passing remark from Scyrr, he winced within himself, and finally when Eodwine made his last answer, he raised his eyes to Eodwine’s face. His expression was hard to read, but it clearly lacked the general good will it usually bore. Instead, he looked implacably stern and cold as he informed Scyrr that he would be telling lord Athanar of this and turned away.

Quin glanced swiftly at Scyrr and then lowered his eyes again to his plate. He and Léof had frequently talked about Eodwine. He had learned from Léof that Eodwine was a gentle man, slow to anger, but just in his actions. Everyone who had lived in Scarburg under Eodwine’s lordship had respected him. Quin wondered if anyone had ever insulted him like Scyrr had and if even Léof could guess what Eodwine would ask to be done. He looked about apprehensively. The conversation had lagged at the table. The men were sitting with their eyes mostly downcast, but he caught covert looks being sent after Eodwine and towards Scyrr. Quin realized he had not been the only one to overhear the confrontation.

“What did you expect, Scyrr?” Quin said, standing up and preparing to leave the hall. “That’d he’d stand by to let you insult him and his wife? You should’ve made amends and let it go. He wouldn’t have asked for a punishment then.”

“Mind your own business, Quin,” Scyrr growled. “I don’t need your advice.”

“Not now, certainly. Maybe if I’d given it sooner.”

Scyrr looked angrily at him. “Move along, I said.” Quin shrugged and went.

[Galadriel55]

Theolain

Were they showing him a game? Theolain did not understand. Why were the boy and the man crouching next to him with a bucket of water, telling him to put his hand in?

Theolain reached out and dipped the fingers of his left hand into the chilled water. “No, your other hand,” the boy corrected him and guided his right arm – the burnt one – to the bucket. The water was soothing, but stung at the same time; it was a different kind of pain. Theolain made to draw his hand away from the water to escape the queer feeling.



Ledwyn

The wails from outside made Ledwyn freeze in the middle of crossing the kitchen, causing Gina to almost run into her. Looking around, she did not see Theolain where she left him. The other wenches seemed to understand her thoughts. “Your son?” asked one of them. Ledwyn nodded. She hastened to finish her task at hand and rushed outside, forgetting to close the door behind her.

Theolain stopped crying by now. This was some unusual quality that she noticed in her son only, not in any other children. They were all always at the wrong place at the wrong time, and all ran around the village grabbing things and knocking things over, and all tripped and all fell. But the difference was that Theolain never cried for long over his cuts and bruises. He never dwelt on any one thing for long if it held no interest to him, not even crying.

Ledwyn spotted him next to two young men who were speaking soothingly to him. “What happened to my son?” she demanded, approaching them.

[Firefoot]

“I know it hurts, but it’s going to help your hand heal better!” said Léof in frustration to the little boy. He grabbed the boy’s wrist more firmly to forcibly immerse the boy’s hand, but just then an angry-looking woman strode up to them and demanded, “What happened to my son?”

Léof hastily released the boy’s hand and stood up, bobbing his head toward her in a way that could almost be called a bow. “He pulled a stick out of the fire, ma’am,” he said. She wasn’t any bigger than he was, but the desire to protect her boy seemed to have brought out every fierce and protective notion the woman had. “He burned his hand, and we’re trying to get him to put it in the pail of cold water so it won’t blister.”

[Galadriel55]

Theolain

Theolain was hurt. No, not the hand. He was hurt that the man told Mother the wrong story. Theolain explained everything to him, how the stick was not supposed to bite, and how it tricked him. He knew he should not touch fire. The stick was not in the fire, though. Did the man not understand what he said?



Ledwyn

Ledwyn was surprised to see that the twain next to her son could hardly be called grown men. Although one was clearly older than the other, he was barely out of boyhood. Neither looked old enough to be a Rider.

When she heard the story she wanted to hold Theolain close and at the same time to slap him. How many more times can he burn himself before he takes the lesson to heart? But all other feelings were pushed out by a sense of simple gratitude to the two boys. They were strangers to her and Theolain, yet they took care of him as though he was one of their own. A basic act of kindness, and yet not even all wizened old men could boast such. “Thank you,” Ledwyn whispered.

She crouched down and held Theolain’s hand fast in the water herself. The boys did not speak. But before they could leave she addressed them herself:

“I am called Ledwyn. This is my little troublemaker son Theolain.” She was smiling despite the words, ruefully at first, but more merrily with each moment. She thought she must have looked like a fool, kneeling next to a burnt toddler and grinning from ear to ear, but the absurdity of it made her smile the harder. After all, what was wrong with smiling? Theolain was not hurt that badly, and he will harm himself many more times and much worse before he grows to be a man. After so many injuries it was difficult to take each one of them gravely.

[Firefoot]

Léof exchanged a look with Javan over the top of Ledwyn’s head. For his part, it contained relief, both that the woman was no longer upset and that she was here to take care of her own son, as well as general confusion over her reaction. She sounded… happy, as she introduced herself. Why was she smiling like that?

Best not to question it.

“I’m Léof, and this is Javan,” he said in reply. He paused, not sure whether this conversation was over and he should leave, or if he ought to say more. “Um… Do you need any more help? A bandage for Theolain’s hand?”

[littlemanpoet]

"Big."

Harreld chuckled inside. The boy lifted his arms as if he wanted to fly. Well, Harreld could not make a boy fly, but he could do the next best thing. He started to run around the yard, lifting the boy higher, lower, veering this way then that.

[Folwren]

“Indeed?” Saeryn said. “A day’s ride west. So, we are nearer than Edoras. Edoras is not so very intimidating, though,” she added. “Not once you get to know it.” She paused and as Ledwyn paid careful attention to the job in her hands, Saeryn used the opportunity to consider her carefully.

Here was a hard-working woman, accustomed to the hardened life of a village-woman, but she was tired. The evidence was clear on her face: the taught lines about her mouth, the focused expression of her eyes on her hands as she dried the trenchers. And little wonder. It came back suddenly to Saeryn that Ledwyn had mentioned that her husband had died. An empathetic pain clutched her stomach at her very core. She had come so close to losing Eodwine, she had briefly touched the fear and pain that this woman felt. She also had a child – a little boy who scarcely spoke. How difficult it must have been to leave her home and come here to Scarburg, even if it was just a good day’s ride.

“Tell me about your home, Ledwyn,” Saeryn said, her voice gentle. “And about your family.”

[Galadriel55]

Theolain

The lad laughed and laughed as he felt the air rush against him and saw the ground come higher and lower in exhilarating spins. He wished this would never end. He was not for a moment afraid of falling; he felt the strength and confidence of those big hands that held him, and he knew that the man would never let him fall.

Ledwyn

Ledwyn wondered about the Lady Saeryn. She spoke as if she was accustomed to the wide halls of Meduseld, but while talking she was washing the trenchers like any kitchen wench. She sat next to the lords when she ate breakfast, and she spoke with authority; yet this stature did not stop her from doing servants' work.

“Tell me about your home, Ledwyn, and about your family,” Lady Saeryn asked.

Ledwyn thought for some time. "It is small, much smaller than Scarburg," she finally said. "A few hovels sitting next to each other. The men raised horses, and the womenfolk raised children. Just a village." Ledwyn paused again. "My husband was a woodworker by craft. Whenever someone needed a new chair or shed or wanted a toy for their child, they would go to him. But in a village like mine, if someone needs a new shed, it is a big event. My husband spent most of his time with horses, just like the other men. One day he rode to a neighbouring village to do some business, and his horse returned without him, limping. The men who went to search for him told me that the horse must have had a rock stuck in her hoof, so my husband tried to take it out, but the horse kicked him. The farmers from the other village said that he left it cheerful and in good health. The men checked the horse, and she indeed had a sharp pebble cutting into her hoof, which agitated her."

Ledwyn was surprised at how even her voice was. She felt like she was telling someone else's story, a tale from long ago, a forgotten person in a forgotten place. Maybe she was just weary. Weary of living with it.

[littlemanpoet]

Garreth

"Now what could be keeping that brother of mine?"

Garreth had been working on a trowel for quite a while with no-one to talk at, and he had begun to feel the lack. Only then had he realized that it had been quite some while since Harreld had been away.

He chucked his tools into their pail and let the trowel cool. The fire would remain hot for some time, no worries there. He peeked out the door. What did he behold? His own brother, running like a child around the yard, wielding a boy in both hands, as if he were a bird.

And there the pack of food lay on the ground, easy spoils for any four legged critter's curiosity. Garreth was ready to vent his spleen at his twin but stopped to look at this unheard of event. Here was his brother, no, not acting like a child but a proud poppa. Garreth chuckled, then got a sly grin on his face.

Harreld

"Harreld! Where's my food!"

Harreld stopped in his tracks. The boy's legs swung outward a moment then hung limp. Harreld went red as a beet.

"Um, right there."

"Now just what do you think you're doing? And who's lad is that?"

"Um, uh, I don't know."

Garreth grinned. "So that's all the answer I get?" He couldn't help it any longer and burst out in laughter at his brother's discomfiture.

Too embarrassed for words, Harreld put the boy down and went to get the pack.

"Now stop right there, Harreld you dimwit. I can get the pack of food, it's closer to me anyhow. Where'd that boy come from?"

"Uh, he followed me out of the kitchens, I think." Harreld regarded the lad with a perplexed expression. "And he hasn't said much at all. Well, one word. 'Big.'"

"No doubt he was looking at you!" Garreth chuckled. "I'll get the food. You take that boy back into the kitchens. No doubt he belongs to somebody in there."

"Oh. Right. Of course."

Harreld turned to look at the boy. He'd caught him once, he could do it again. No playing this time.

[Nogrod]

"No, it is weariness of grief that sends us to the uttermost West." Laerdil ended his answer.

Lord Athanar listened to the elf and shook his head with a faint sorrow in his eyes. He stared at his cup for a while before raising his gaze to look at Laerdil into the eye. "You speak of another world my good elf, another world closed from men. And even if it is easy to see what you say, it is nigh impossible to really feel it, to go under those thoughts of your kin, that world you inhabit..."

He was silent for a moment and saw lady Saeryn feeling uncomfortable - for clearly different reasons he himself felt distressed about. Suddenly she excused herself and took her trencher with her. Athanar nodded and collected himself. "I do hope you feel welcomed at Scarburg and stay for a while Laerdil, it would be interesting to have a deeper discussion on matters we have scarcely touched by now. But I do have a pressing matter I need to attend to right now." He nodded to the elf who courteously nodded him back.

Athanar saw Saeryn collecting trencehers form other tables while clearly heading for the kitchens. He felt sorry for her; no, he hated it when she made that kind of show-off out of her predicament; no, he felt a strong passion for all she was forced to bear; no, he thought the martyr-game she played was for teenagers, not for adults... or to be parents... He had such contradictory feelings for lady Saeryn: he wished her all the good there was and was still so annoyed of the way she acted her part in this Valar-forsaken hot-bed of strong emotions he had been thrown into... whatever... he would have to forbid her doing a maid's work, sooner rather than later. That was just plain ridiculous... but it felt awkward to just go and deny her her freedom of doing what she willed... however she just demonstrated things by what she did.

Forcing himself out from these ramblings he turned suddenly and called aloud for Hilderinc. Then he turned to Eodwine. "I'd like to see you and Thornden with Coen here before supper. I'll send for the two but I do hope you'll be present as well." He made a pause. "And if you think lady Saeryn would wish to join us, please ask her to do so. I'd like to hear from her too..."

[Folwren]

Saeryn's soapy hands paused as she waited for more. That surely could not have been the end of it. Horses kicked on occasion, yes, but they did not usually kill someone, unless he was ignorant of horses. That was unkind and unjust to assume of Ledwyn’s husband. She put it from her mind.

“What happened?” she asked. “Did your neighbors find your husband on the road between the two villages?”

[Folwren]

Saeryn dried her hands on her apron and then touched Ledwyn’s shoulder. “I know everything is new and different, but it isn’t unsafe here. He cannot have gone far without someone seeing him, and he’ll be taken care of! I can send someone to go find him, if you wish. You should sit, though. I see you are very tired. I should have thought of that and let you rest.

“Kara,” she said, looking up. “Will you go and find the lad? Bring him back when you find him, will you?” Kara nodded and left by the door leading into the hall.

Saeryn turned back to Ledwyn. She gently led her to a chair and sat her down. Ginna placed a steaming cup of tea before her. Saeryn sat down opposite her and folded her hands on the table top.

“Listen,” she said. “We have not got many young children here, so there has been no sort of plan made for them, but in my parent’s household, the older children looked after the younger ones. You are going to have enough work to do without constantly worrying about your son. Léođern, Garmund, and Cnebba will look after him. You will see that once he has gotten used to his new home, he will be in and out all the time and you will not have to worry about him.”

[littlemanpoet]

Seeing that Garreld had the pack of food safely under his arm, heading back to the smithy, Harreld gave his full attention to the boy. He took a step toward the smiling lad, who took as many steps back from him, his expression changing. He looked like he was ready to make a game of it.

Harreld took two more steps toward the boy, the boy stayed out of his grasp and stopped. And he waited.

"Ah, I see, I know your game." Harreld said it half sarcastically, but the word 'game' did something to him. He chuckled. With a grin on his face he snarled and cuffed one foot at the ground like a bull. The boy started to giggle. Harreld made a feint at him and the boy jumped back, giggling more. Harreld couldn't help laughing himself. He snarled some more. Then he leapt after the boy who ran from him squealing in delight.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld was chasing the boy, making sure to never quite catch him.

After a while he noticed someone standing nearby with her hands on her hips, a small smile on her face. It was Kara.

"Oh! Good morning. Are you here about the boy?"

"Aye. His mother is busy in the kitchen and I'm to take Theolain to Garmund and Cnebba."

"Ah. Well." Harreld stood by as Kara approached the child with great confidence. The boy seemed to recognize this and let himself be picked up and carried away. "Well then. Good bye."

Kara waved with her free hand and the boy waved too. Harreld went back to the smithy to be ribbed and kidded by his twin brother.

[Firefoot]

“Of course.” Scyld smiled one of his cryptic smiles, turned, and walked away. Inside, however, his stomach was churning. Why had he said that? Why would he offer himself up for so much time alone with her?

He would have to use it somehow. She had just shown that she was willing to talk. Maybe she was trying to get him to open up by dangling tidbits of her past in front of his face, but it wouldn’t work. He would tell her just what he wanted to tell her; he wouldn’t let her crack him this easily. He wouldn’t.

The time he spent waiting at the door felt like an eon; he half-suspected her of taking her time just to make him uneasy, but maybe it was just the waiting that made the time stretch on so long. When she finally emerged from the kitchen he swung the cloak around his shoulders where it settled comfortably. He waited until she had fastened her own cloak before opening the door for her. “After you.”

He directed their path towards the back of the hall; he had in mind to set out over the fields up into the Scar, as they were calling it now. “Have you been up into the Scar?” he asked her.

[littlemanpoet]

“Have you been up into the Scar?” he asked her.

"I have walked there," she replied as he held the door for her.

The cold was refreshing. The dampness of it bit her cheeks which were no doubt reddening, they always did. She fell in step with him as they made their way across the yards of Scarburg. He was taking his time, having set a sauntering pace for them. The sun was pale and a few streamers of high, cold cloud crossed the pale blue sky. She folded her arms into the cloak for warmth, her fingers already numbing.

Nydfarra was quiet as they walked, and she preferred not to prattle. It was not in her to fill the silence with words just to fell the silence. She liked the quiet, and wondered if Nydfarra did, or was his bent toward silence caused by something else?

"Do you like the quiet?" she asked as they approached the Scar.

[Firefoot]

Rowenna had chosen not to rise to his prompting and Scyld let the matter drop, though questions still niggled at his mind. He wasn’t even sure why it mattered so much to him to know her secrets, aside from the fact that he was interested in everyone’s secrets. It made for good leverage, though leverage against what, he wasn’t terribly sure anymore. This was different though.

It wasn’t as if he couldn’t make a fair guess at what her life might have been like. Abuse of the weak by the strong: that was how the world worked, unless you happened to be one of the lucky few born into a life of privilege. He scrambled up over a particularly steep and rocky section, then turned to make sure Rowenna was alright following him. For a moment he imagined Linduial there, looking up at him with her large and trusting eyes. Just as he once had for Linduial in this very spot, he extended his hand to Rowenna, an offer of stability over the rough terrain.

"We're getting close," he said.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna grabbed his proffered hand and felt something like needles inside her skin. Surprised, she looked up at him.

"We're getting close," he said.

She dropped her eyes to the ground to watch her feet as he helped her up the steepness.

"Thank you," she said more breathlessly than she felt. "Close to what, I wonder? A secret the quiet is hiding, I suppose?" She allowed a half smile.