Scarburg Meadhall

[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?”

[Galadriel55]

“Um… Do you need any more help? A bandage for Theolain’s hand?” Léof asked.

“If you would be so kind,” Ledwyn said, sobering up. She reminded herself that she was still a stranger here. “Without them he will pick on the blisters, or scratch the burn if it gets itchy.”