Scarburg Meadhall

[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?”

[Galadriel55]

Ledwyn

“What happened?” Lady Saeryn pressed on. “Did your neighbors find your husband on the road between the two villages?”

"Aye," Ledwyn replied, "they did, my Lady. They went searching for him, and sure enough his body was found just off to the side of the road, as if he was thrown there. One side of his head was crushed. That is what the men who found him told me; I did not come with the search. They said that either the horse kicked him hard, or else that his head was flung against a rock in his fall. There were plenty sharp rocks scattered there."

Ledwyn fiddled with the trencher she held before setting it down onto the clean pile.

"That is what the men told me," she repeated absent-mindedly, thinking back to that day of painful waiting a year ago.

Theolain

Why did the man stop? Theolain wondered. Then he heard another man's voice call out. The man answered. More speaking.

The man turned to him again. Theolain looked up at him, his eyes shining. He decided that he liked this man. No, he liked him a lot.

But then he noticed something different in the way the man approached him. Theolain scampered back. The mad took a few more steps. Theolain retreated a few more scampers. The man stood, and Theolain waited, a sly look on his face.

[Folwren]

Saeryn pressed her mouth shut. She should not have asked. Her heart went out to Ledwyn, but she had no words to express her feelings and no desire to pursue the topic now that it had continued so long.

“I am glad you’ve come here,” she said after a long pause. “As I told you earlier, we are short on help. Your son will be a welcome addition, too.” She looked around as she spoke.

“Where is he?” she asked after a pause in which she did not see the boy. “He was in here, wasn’t he?”

[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.

[Nogrod]

Hilderinc came as called and took the orders from Lord Athanar to get Thornden and Coen to attend Athanar's table an half an hour before the meal. With a nod Athanar added that Hilderinc would be welcome as well unless he had other duties. Before dismissing him he waved him to come closer and whispered something to his ear.

Hilderinc looked confused for a moment but then nodded and went to his errand.

Turning to lord Eodwine lord Athanar bent slightly forwards and addressed him, not clearly willing to keep what he had to say a secret as such but addressing him in person anyway.

"With all the people we have here, who would be your choice for a representative of a common man or woman here, the representative of the household? We two will be present and so will Coen and Thornden, naturally. I have requested lady Saeryn and my lady Wynflaed will be accompanying us as well. On top of that, I'd like to..." Here he turned his head towards the elf and addressed him straightforwards: "I'd like to see you in our little table of advisors regarding a recent occurence, so if you in any way could attend, just to give it a thought an half an hour before the meal at this table, I would appreciate it."

The elf nodded.

Lord Athanar turned again to lord Eodwine. "Hilderinc is probably my best lower officer; a trustworthy man with a good heart. So I'd like to hear whom you'd call as one from this household to be "his pair" in here... I'm not building up a jury, but I do wish to have an equilibrum of viewpoints as comes to this very intricate matter before I make a verdict on Scyrr... and by the way, I have asked Scyrr himself to join us."

He made a pause and studied lord Eodwine's expression learning little or nothing.

"And if you thought why Hilderinc looked surprised, well, it was that I asked him to bring Scyrr with him..."

With that lord Athanar leaned back to his chair and took his goblet. He looked stern but resolved. Rising the cup slightly he looked at lord Eodwine leaning back towards the chair. "To justice, and prosperity of the Mead Hall", he said and raised the cup, looking at lord Eodwine, and then to the others around the table.

[Galadriel55]

Ledwyn

Lady Saeryn left no room for protest. Ledwyn felt uncomfortable and embarrassed, despite Lady Saeryn's best efforts to achieve the opposite. She wished she would have been treated like a servant, not a guest. She would be much more at ease if Lady Saeryn would not stoop below the line her rank set for her, out of generosity or humility or whatever reason it may be. If only everything in this Mead Hall would be as she had imagined it! Yet she could not gainsay Lady Saeryn. Leastways, Lady Saeryn was right about the children.

"Perhaps it is so, my Lady," Ledwyn said. "I might be worrying unnecessarily. It has been at my home as you have said - the older children took care of the younger, but the young ones never strayed far. You said it true that my son will soon run around everywhere and this would go unheeded, and that my son has not been gone too long. I suppose I think too much about it. I should concentrate on the work at hand more."

Ledwyn drank her tea quickly, thanked lady Saeryn and Ginna, and stood. She looked around for more work to be done.


Theolain

A game! And a good one too. Theolain definitely liked this man. He felt like this grown-up knew exactly what he thought.

In the breakes between the rushes, when both laughed and caught their breath, Theolain looked with admiration at the man. He knew that he would not be upset if this man caught him in the game. Yet, sometimes, he had a different sense of purpose when he ran at Theolain, apart from the game. Though Theolain could be caught in the game, he did not want to be caught in that other way, to fulfill that sense of purpose behind the carefree play.

Of course, he did not think in those terms. He perceived that if he does not want to be caught for real, he has to run for real. However, he trusted the man. That trust meant that no harm would come to him from that man, but games could.

[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]

As they walked, Scyld had begun to remember the day of Linduial’s escape much more vividly than he had in some time. He had come this way before, each time accompanied by a beautiful woman: that one innocent and vivacious, and this one worldly-wise and mysterious. The panic of that warm April day contrasted sharply with the serene chill of this one.

It was the cold as much as anything else that anchored him in the present, until Rowenna spoke and shook him out of his reverie: “Do you like the quiet?”

“Sometimes,” he replied. Silence left you alone with yourself – and lately Scyld didn’t always like what he saw there. I could leave, he thought suddenly. Go somewhere where these uncomfortable realizations don’t always have to be dancing around my periphery. The thought lacked conviction, though, and one powerful reason for him to stay was now walking right beside him. He glanced over at her; if anything, her reddened cheeks made her even prettier. I can think of one good reason why those brigands kept her alive… “And sometimes,” he continued, raising an eyebrow at her, “I wonder what secrets the quiet is hiding.”

[littlemanpoet]

“I wonder what secrets the quiet is hiding.”

She liked that thought, and his eyebrow raised in just that whimsical, charming way he had, and a smile came to her face altogether unforced.

"I suppose that asking it what its secrets are would be too frank, and it would break the silence." She grinned. He did not smile but raised both brows as he regarded her, which was all she expected. "Still, best to let it tell us its mysteries when it is ready and no sooner."

He led them along the path upward as they ascended the first rise of the Scar. It seemed to Rowenna that this rough, hard 'scar' of hills held ghosts, or wights, or some unseen presence, filling the silence. She liked places like this, forbidding to folk who liked best the comfort of hearth and board. She liked the secrets of it, the mystery. She looked at Nydfara's back. This was his kind of place, mysterious man.

[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.

[Firefoot]

“You shall have to judge for yourself what secrets you may find,” answered Scyld. “For my part, I only pray that I have not set your hopes too high.”

They had reached level ground, and Scyld released Rowenna’s hand. It had been startlingly cold, despite the warm cloaks and the rigor of their climb, and he found himself dwelling on the fact for the next several minutes until he broke out of the woods and onto a high rocky shelf overlooking the outlying lands: the hall and outbuildings of Scarburg, immediately at their feet; past that, the surrounding homesteads and the holdings of the local landlords; and farther away south the pale, gleaming ribbon that was the Snowbourne and the distant crags of the Ered Nimrais, marching east towards Gondor.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna looked at the view. It had been a while since she'd been in the mountains and seen the view. She had forgotten how much she loved the long view from the mountains. And here she looked at them from afar. She suddenly had a famished hunger to go to them.

"Beautiful. I miss the mountains."

Of course, that hunger could not be satisfied. She had a home here at Scarburg, and home meant more to her than the adventure she had managed to survive for two years. There had been so much ugliness that she had not had a mind for the beauty.

"I like best to see them from a distance. There is much hardship and terror to be in the midst of them. Do you not think so?"