Hard Winters RPG

[Mithalwen]

Elfthain had probably never worked so hard in his life before as he did unloading the waggons. He had helped with harvest of course and that work was long and hot, scything and gathering from dawn til dusk, but he hadn't done anything so strenuous as lifting full grain sacks in chainmail, the combined heft of which was not far off half his own body weight. And so eager were the locals to have the goods safely in their stores that they set a brisk pace, almost as if they feared that the carts might be driven off yet part laden if they were not swift enough. He was determined to keep up even though his legs threatened to buckle each time he lifted a full sack.

By the time his waggon was unloaded he was almost on his knees and hugely relieved that the unloading of the other carts seemed under control and not in immediate need of his help. He reckoned he could be spared to take care of Safran who had waited patiently amid the chaos. The mare turned her sweet head towards him and whickered softly. Elfthain stood close to her and gently pulled her ears. The sight of her bulging saddlebags had reminded him of something "Sorry Saff, I have one more thing to do and then I will get you sorted" he promised. "I won't be long", He extracted a bulky and heavy oilcloth wrapped parcel from one of the big leather panniers, No point lugging this back from the stables when I am right by the kitchen door he had thought.

He had been inside before of course but not in any state to take in the detail of the environment. Now he noticed several women who seemed to be part of the household, about his mother's age or older he guessed for the most part though there was a younger looking one who was looking rather grimy and damp. Not that Elfthain was in any position to judge. Already less than fragrant after several days travel, his exertions hadn't improved matters. He knew a hot bath would be out of the question but a swill under a pump or a bucket or two from the well would be a start.. even that would have to wait . The women were all busy either with pots on the stove or examining their new stock of provision and even though he didn't really believe Cenric's theories on the unpredictability of women past first youth, he became diffident in the presence of the strangers.

He tapped gently on the doorframe before speaking "Is it alright if I leave these with you?" he enquired entering the kitchen and setting his burden on the table and loosening the wrapping to reveal two large stoneware jars. One of the women raised an eyebrow and asked what he had so he continued, "my mother sent them for the lady of the house - this is leaven, she thought you might not have been able to keep yours going if you had run out of flour ... I have fed it during the journey so it should be alright." At least the antisocial nature of the travellers camp had meant that he had evaded this strange procedure being witnessed. He unstopped the smaller jar and the lump of wet dough was still obviously fermenting."She thought it would let you have bread that bit quicker" he explained. "And this is honey from our own bees. there wasn't much to spare so she said to give it to someone who would know how it would be best used" He didn't unseal this. It had been used sparingly even at home for many months and hadn't been part of the requisition more a personal gift from one household to another made in the knowledge of its value. To smell it would be too tantalising. He tried not to think of it's sweetness let alone the meadows at home where the hives would be set in proximity to the spring flowers and where his colt was no doubt growing sleek on new grass. That jogged his memory again.. "oh and can you tell me where the stables are... I need to see to my horse" ..

[littlemanpoet]

“How have you fared, these last few years?”

"Well enough." Her exploits in turning away the Easterlings came quickly to mind, but she would not brag to him. He would have to ask her to get that out of her. Better for him to learn of it from others.

"I know a thing or two about finding food in the wild, so I am not as hungry as some here. So this food is not for sale but free? The king is a good man."

He was fiddling with the potatoes, as if wondering what to do with them.

"Here, I will take those inside." She took them from him one at a time, wiping the dirt and mud from each in turn before taking the next. While she did this she asked, "Where did you go that took you four years?"

[Folwren]

Eodwine did not stir. Saeryn sighed and drew her hand away from his forehead. She had hoped to discuss with him the arrival of the caravan and of the contents of the letter from Athanar, but it would have to wait, she told herself.

She went back out and had nearly reached the kitchen again when she spotted the back of a small red head poking up amongst a pile of sacks stacked near the door. She stepped around the bags and looked down at her daughter, sitting just in the midst of them, a raw potato held in both little fists.

"Look, Mama," Ruari said, holding the potato up for her to see. "They brought food." The potato skin was scored and broken, and the white flesh showed through. Ruari had been gnawing at it with her little baby teeth. Tears sprang up into Saeryn's eyes when she saw it.

"Yes," Saeryn said. She smiled, trying to hide her tears. "Yes, daughter, but potatoes have to be cooked before eating. We have porridge cooking in the kitchen, let's go in and get some of that." She held out her hand towards Ruari. For a moment, her daughter hesitated, still clutching the potato. Then, without putting her potato down, she reached out and took Saeryn's hand.

They went into the kitchen together. The women glanced at her as she came in, and she noticed an expectant silence in the air, as though she had entered just in time to interrupt a question from being answered. A young man whom she did not know stood by the table with two jars in front of him.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Upon the sight of the leaven and honey, Stefnu rushed to the table. She looked first into the jars, then quickly up at the boy who had brought them. She did not have to make an effort to put a big smile on her face.

"These are treasures, lad! Treasures! Aren't they, lady Saeryn?" she glimpsed her entering the kitchens.

"His mother sent this for you," she added, pointing at the leaven and then at the youth towering over her. "That is so lovely!" Then she spotted little Ruari's red head sticking out in curiosity from behind her mother's skirt. Stefnu smiled at her, which was already enough to make the girl break away from her mother and run towards the table and the unfamiliar young man, a thing she had obviously been itching to explore since the moment they entered the room.

Stefnu moved the jars closer to the edge of the table, so that Ruari could examine them.

"Come and take a look what this good boy has brought us. See? There is leaven, so we can make bread! And here is some honey," she picked up the jar and held it towards Ruari to smell. "He brought it all the way from his family where they have bees that make this honey. We can put a little bit in your porridge if you are nice! Has she been nice today, lady Saeryn?"

[Mithalwen]

The new arrivals put Elfthain into a bit of a quandary; the tall woman although much younger was clearly the lady of the house and for the long moment of silence that followed her appearance he thought perhaps he should repeat his speech, awkward enough the first time. He was saved by one of the older women, the one with fire-gold hair whose effusive reception of the simple gifts made him colour a little from embarrassment. Nevertheless it also relayed the information without him having to, so he was grateful. However Elfthain felt he should say something but what? The woman had opened the jar to examine the contents and the sweet fragrance transported him back to his home and his childhood, days of plenty when porridge with honey and thick cream was standard fare not a treat that required good behaviour...he hoped that the little girl had been nice, she was the Eorl's daughter seemingly and yet was clutching a spud as possessively as if it were a mead cake at Midsummer.

Elfthain had a lot of cousins of varying degrees and he was especially close to Elwin's large brood who regarded him as their big brother. So he noticed that the the little redhead was eyeing him curiously and she was definitely the person he was least daunted by... so he sank down to sit on his heels and held out his hands to the child so as to let her decide whether to approach him or not.

"Hello, my name is Elfthain," he said softly

[Firefoot]

“Of the first nine months, I will say little yet save that it was a long and wearisome journey - I hope never to make such a one again – and that it was about a matter that must be brought to the Eorl.” He felt the clenches of that ever-present knot of fear. Soon all would be made known, soon he would be free. “The next three years I spent with my family.” The word still felt strange in his mouth, as if it ought not to belong to him. “I stayed with my brother Bedric, and from my brother Aelfred I learned something of leatherworking. Last October I made up my mind to leave and return here, but as you know winter came early and hit hard, and I have been in Edoras waiting out the winter.”

It was a perfectly factual account, yet expressed so little. He did not have the words to explain the great joy he had found in his young nieces and nephews or in setting his mind to a craft, nor the way he had never quite belonged, never quite felt at home. He looked around at the familiar landscape. The Hall itself had changed a bit, but not the land: that was exactly as he remembered. “It is strange to be back,” he said.