Hard Winters RPG

[Folwren]

"I have kept my-" he swallowed and breathed "-my children alive."

Saeryn's eyes flashed as she took in his words and their meaning. Her hands, resting one on his shoulder and the other on his laboring chest, felt the bones beneath his rough, white shirt. "By starving yourself?" she demanded . She swallowed back the lump of fear in her throat, torn between grief and disbelieving anger. "What good would it do if you died and your children were left fatherless?" Eoghan's crying grew louder, but Saeryn still did not turn. "Why didn't you tell me? You should not have done this!"

His brow lowered in annoyance. "Your children are alive. The deed is done. Berate me if you must. Now help me not die."

Saeryn could not stop tears from escaping her eyes, but she forced her sob into a bitter laugh. "I ought to let you die, you silly old man," she said, choking again on a sob, but smiling. Thankfully he still had the will to live! She had feared he was resigned to dying. It would be the sort of heroic attitude he would take. "You've practically killed yourself already. But I'll see what can be done."

"There's a good girl. I married right. See to the boy first. I swear to you I will stay alive a few more moments. Will you bring me food here?"

Saeryn bent and kissed his head. "Of course." She helped him lean back against the bed, taking away the support of her body, and after sniffing and wiping her eyes, she stood up and turned to the bed.

"What is it, son?" she said softly. Eoghan did not answer. Her presence calmed him almost at once, and he lay back, staring forlornly up at her. She sniffed again, picking up the cup of water from the table at the bedside. "Drink. I will bring you food, too."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

First they came one by one, but now as the word about the porridge spread, groups of starved Scarburgians were streaming into the kitchens. There was no way, Stefnu mused, for anybody to try to make any orderly meal out of this. No: now was the time to eat, only to eat, to feel the simple part of life that had for so long been denied to them. Now people just came to get their bowl of porridge, the first proper meal in weeks, and Stefnu made the special note to sprinkle a few nuts on top of every portion. It was a mere gesture, but she felt it was right.

"This meal is nothing special," she had told Modtryth, "but at the same it is special, because-" There was no need to explain further. Of course it was special, from now on, they realised how every meal was special. "It may be humble," she had continued, "but I don't feel we should hold back on making it better!"

Most people in Stefnu's place would not think of treats at this time, but she did, and she felt that was what the people of Scarburg needed. In some way, it occupied her mind even more than her own hunger. In some way, she had been thinking about this the whole winter.

She also made a mental note to talk to lady Saeryn, later. They will have to make a proper, large, celebratory feast. Later, maybe even tomorrow. To mark the end of the terrible winter once and for all, to share their joy of coming back to life and to remember those who did not. And last but not least, they would do so to thank those who brought the caravan that saved them. She was certain the Eorl or lady Saeryn would see to it, but now there was surely no hurry. Now, there were people to feed.

She smiled at the next person who came to fill their bowl, when she noticed Saeryn storming away, leaving clearly agitated Ruari behind. She did not see what happened, but she could make good enough picture of the situation.

"Excuse me," she said, handing the spoon to the next person. "I'll be right back, help yourself. Just a few spoonfuls, you can come back later for more!"

Quickly, she turned to pick up an empty bowl and walked to Ruari's side.

"Hello again!" she smiled encouragingly. "Is everything all right?"

"Papa fell," the girl said in a trembling voice. "Mama went after him, and-"

Stefnu forced herself not to betray any signs of distress herself. She stroked Ruari's head.

"I am sure she will take care of him," she said. "You can wait for them here with me. I am sure they will come soon and everything will be all right, you'll see. Perhaps you would like to have some porridge while you wait? See, I got you a bowl. What if you come sit over there with me, and you can also get some of the honey the nice boy - what was his name? - brought us."

[Inziladun]

As the man turned to him and uttered what seemed to be a genuine apology, Ladavan watched the other turn and walk away.

"Name's Áforglaed by the way", the remaining one said, extending his arm in apparent greeting. Then, withdrawing it, he added "Hey, you look quite Dunnish".

You aren't the first to notice, Ladavan thought sourly. Trying not to let his feeling show, he assumed a neutral expression and replied, "Yes, I am of that people. I have made this long journey to see what I can find here." He paused. This one looked young and rather reckless, but not necessarily hostile.

"I am a stranger here, of course. No doubt it will be some time before I learn the customs and laws. But the more I can talk to people, the more I will discover." The young man had something of a soldierly feel about him, as had his departed companion. Ladavan had the (probably) foolish beginning of an idea.

"Tell me, sir: what is your living?" he asked.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

"Me? I am a guardsman, here. There aren't many of us, now." He made a vague nod in departing Hilderinc's direction. "Not that it's needed," he grinned. "It's been quite peaceful here, after our former eorl Athanar showed the neighbouring lords their place - I was there," he remarked, straightening himself proudly. "I also heard the local folk made quite a short work of the Easterling raiders who appeared when the rest of us soldiers were fighting out beyond the River last spring."

He surveyed the man from head to toes. "Are you a soldier? I mean, a Dunnish soldier? Man, I hope your people are not fighting ours anymore. I mean, obviously you're not, now that you are here. Right?" He grinned again, this time a bit more nervously, it started dawning on him that he had been babbling. "What is your name?" he asked quickly.

[Folwren]

The kitchen was flocked with people who had heard the summons to supper. They stood in two lines as Modtryth and Frodides ladled porridge into their bowls from the pots. Saeryn picked up two empty bowls and walked directly to the head of one line and held them out. She thought grimly about what she might say if someone questioned her right to cut to the front, but no one did, and she strode from the kitchen with two steaming bowls of porridge.

"Here we are," she said as cheerfully as she could when she came back to the room. "It's a bit hot yet. Let us pour some water into it. It will do it no harm." She poured a bit of cool water into Eoghan's bowl, while admitting to herself that water was a poor substitute for milk.

"Here, lad, sit up for me." She helped Eoghan sit up against the wall and pulled the blankets up about him under his arms. She set the bowl in his lap and put the spoon in his hand. "Eat it slowly," she instructed, leaning towards him and speaking in a low voice, so as to gain his closest attention.

"Now for you," she said, turning to Eodwine. "Do you want water in your porridge, too, or shall you eat it hot? Let's get you up on the bed, first, so you're not freezing on the ground."

[Inziladun]

He'd been right, Ladavan thought. He'd wondered if this man could give him the opening he sought, or at least point him in the right direction.
Now the man seemed wary and nervous, guessing he stood in the presence of a Dunland foreigner. Oddly, this brought amusement to Ladavan, and not bitterness.

"I am of Dunland, and I did fight in the war. And yes, I fought against you horse-people. I do not look proudly on it now, though at the time, I thought what I did was right. I am named Ladavan." He then plunged ahead.

"It is of soldiering I would speak, though. How does one gain entry to such service here?"

[littlemanpoet]

Maybe he had been a fool to starve himself in hopes that his children might then live. Well, thanks to the king, his plan had won out. Which was lucky, not good planning. So he was a fool. Well, he thought, better a living fool than a dead one. Saeryn came back and fed their son first. He watched her, enjoying her motherly ways.

She turned to him and became less motherly and more cool and about business. Maybe he deserved her coldness, if that was what it was.

"I'll have it with water."

He lifted his arms to be helped off the ground. Once he was seated on the bed, and she had poured some water in his porridge, she handed it to him and watched. He looked up at her before he took his first spoonful. Was she afraid he still would not eat? Or that he would not be able to keep it down? She seemed all anxy and worrity, as his mum used to say.

"I am sorry. It was a foolish thing to do. You married a fool, title or no," he added lightly, grinning ruefully. "If only you had known." He ladled some porridge onto his spoon and took a cautious sip.