Hard Winters RPG

[Thinlómien]

Modtryth had been awake since before dawn. She and Leodthern had quickly tidied the hall for breakfast, then fed the precious new chickens, then done what they could to make their makeshift shed more waterproof and make sure the chickens were warm. The last thing anyone wanted was for the poor birds to catch a cold and die away. Stigend would have to look at the shed, as well as many other things.

Leodthern had been quiet all morning - the girl had grown more solemn after her father's death, and she had started to worry about things. There was a tiny crease on her small forehead, and Modtryth resisted the temptation to plant a little kiss on it and tell Leodthern everything would be alright. She didn't want to lie to the child, and besides, Leodthern was growing up. Modtryth could tell she didn't like her almost-mother fawning over her half as much as she had when she had been little and greedy for hugs and praise. Well, Leodthern was still a child, and sweet-tempered despite everything. The same couldn't be said for Cnebba - not to mention Garmund, Leodthern's older brother - but that was a whole another kettle of fish. Those boys really need something sensible to do, Modtryth thought.

"Ma?" Leodthern asked.
Modtryth smiled, a little sadly. She often thought of the poor child having almost no memory of her real mother. "Yes, honey?"
"I have a feeling like something is going to go wrong again," Leodthern said.
Modtryth looked up to the sky. "Well, it looks like more rain. Laundry will have to wait, but as long as we can keep ourselves, our animals and our stocks dry, we should be fine. Rain in the spring is only as it should be."
"I didn't mean the rain," Leodthern said.
Modtryth waited for a moment, but the girl did not continue. "Well, I hope you haven't become a seer then, even though Lord Eodwine might find one useful," she smiled.
Leodthern smiled back, a little uncertainly.
"Come on, Leodthern, you are useful as you are. There are more than enough hands than Frodides needs in the kitchen, so what about we..."

"Excuse me?" someone interrupted. Modtryth turned to see the Gondorian seamstress Brithiel - or Brith, as she insisted people call her - looking a little distressed.
"Yes?" Modtryth asked evenly.
"Lady Saeryn said we may start sewing clothes from the new linen today. Would you have time to join in after breakfast? And maybe Leodthern would like to learn too?"
Modtryth had to concentrate to understand what Brith said. She had travelled a lot in Riddermark and served in many households, and picked up a good amount of the common tongue on the way. Still, she wished the Gondorian would talk more slowly, or use less flowery language. Well, she was from a wealthy family, so what else could you expect from her?
"Obviously if you have too many chores, I understand, I just wanted to ask if you too would like to join, Modtryth. I thought maybe your children have outgrown heir clothes, hm?"
"Yes," Modtryth said. "They have indeed." She smiled, and decided not to brave explaining in her broken Westron how they were used to there people's hand-me-downs, and that she had not discussed with Saeryn if they should get brand new clothes of their own. It seemed like the seamstress's business anyway. "I will come, if Saeryn doesn't need me elsewhere. And Leodthern too, if she wishes."
"Excellent," Brith smiled.

Modtryth returned the smile, but she did not feel it. She had nothing against the friendly Gondorian, but she suddenly missed Ginna, and how they had sat together mending clothes in the evenings with Leodthern pestering Ginna for stories or pinning needles in Modtryth's skirt for amusement. The winter had really changed everything.

~*~

Brith left Modtryth and Leodthern by the chicken shed. She was looking forward to something to do, and the thought of having a needle in her hands made her feel more confident. She felt awkward still, and an outsider. She had learned the names of all the household women in a couple of days, and a little more of some of them, but they were still strangers to her. For the most part, they were a chatty and kind bunch, and she had done her best with the language barrier. She had kept a distance from Fréa and Caranthir - they were in service of the Meadhall now, and busy with getting acquainted with their new brothers in arms. Furthermore, they might have reminded her of the actual reason she was in Scarburg.

Three days had already passed, and Brith had done nothing to find her first fiance after her initial discussion with Saeryn. It has been raining a lot, she told herself. And she needed to show that she could earn her keep, and that she wasn't a pampered noblewoman like some in the Hall seemed to think. The day after her arrival one of the soldiers had come to talk to her, being excessively polite all the time and calling her "m'lady", until he had ventured to ask which part of Gondor did her family rule. Brith had failed to suppress a giggle, then gently explained she was not highborn and her family were merely valued craftsmen on her mother's side and distinguished soldiers on her father's side. The man at arms had seemed a little confused by this, and Brith had remembered a thing her mother had used to say - the servants of Gondorian lords have better manners than the lords of Rohan, generous as they may be. That was an ugly thing to say, though, and very untrue. Well, Brith had travelled a lot more extensively than her mother by now. Maybe it wasn't a wonder she was the one to know better.

Well, I still know very little, Brith thought. Most of all I need to learn the Eorling tongue. She wondered if Fréa and Caranthir could teach her, then rebuked herself for the thought. She had let the two men become her guardians, her uncles like she liked to think of them, but she could not hold onto them forever. They had lives of their own. Maybe she could ask little Leodthern to teach her, and teach the girl the common tongue in turn. She seemed to be of gentle nature, and even though they did not share a tongue yet, Brith didn't feel half as awkward with her than with most of the adults. She suppressed a sigh. She knew she couldn't use the girl as her shield any more than she could her uncles.

It will get easier day by day, she told herself. Maybe I will even make friends. And at least no one hates me here.

At that moment, she could hear the bell ringing for breakfast. Don't be a coward, she told herself. Go talk with people. They can't read your thoughts, they know nothing of you and your shortcomings. Brith straightened her back, and armed with a smile, she made her way to the hall.

[Mithalwen]

“Have you been long from home, Elfthain son of Théomund? Or is this your first experience as a soldier?”

Elfthain paused and considered his response for the answers to the two parts of Thornden's question were not the same. "I have been bound esquire to Elwin Eldredsson for three years now - but he has been garrisoned at Edoras all that time, and home is only a few miles away in the Harrowdale. Though I was away with him as a page for a year long before. So , yes while I have done a lot of drill, this is the nearest I have come to active service". he continued drily. Elfthain was aware that squires to the knights of the King's Guard often garnered a poor reputation, particularly in peacetime when obtaining such placement was too often seen as a way of getting wastrel lordlings out from under their parents' feet during the most tiresome stage of their progression to adulthood, rather than preparation for life as a career soldier

The breakfast bell rang and Elfthain turned his head wistfully towards the hall. He noticed that light in Thornden's eyes again and this time he was certain it was humour.

"I think you will be very hungry if you wait until your mare is clean to break your fast. I doubt she will suffer if you leave her long enough to eat", Thornden advised. Elfthain agreed and having tied a reluctant Safran under cover once more, he walked with Thornden back to the hall.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine went outside. It was still a little cool. The snow was mostly gone, and the puddles grew. This was not such a good thing: Scarburg was low lying, and it would not take very many rains to put the entire burg under a couple of inches of water. Not that the folk could not slog through it, but it wore on the footwear and on the spirits as well.

Eodwine stopped in at the forge, as was his wont, and greeted the twins, Garreth and Harreld. Or, one might name them Dour and Glum. And what was the root of it? Women. For Garreth, a none too fine lady of Edoras had cheated him. For Harreld, his bride had gone missing and might be dead. Whereas he was more sympathetic to Harreld's plight, he found the man's mood altogether too dark, whereas Garreth was just bitter about women in general but in fine fettle otherwise.

And it was Garreth who reminded Eodwine of one Wilheard, whom he had seen kicking about with nothing to do and less than useful.

"Ah. I am supposed to seek him and see how he can be settled in Scarburg," Eodwine mused.

"You'll have to!" said Garreth. "Sure as my hammer, he seeks no work on his own!"

"Well, I shall go find him then. Good day to you!"

"There are no good days," Harreld growled.

"There are so, so long as you can keep women away!" Garreth grumped.

[Firefoot]

Léof shot Eoghan a look that was only half-scolding, since he had caught his own mistake so quickly. “Next time try to remember not to shout before you do it,” he said mildly. “Now let’s leave Cinderfoot in peace and go to our own breakfasts.”

As they walked out of the stable, Léof considered Eoghan’s question: Is there a horse I can ride? Most of the horses in the stables belonged to individuals and would need their owners’ consent for others to take them out. He wondered if Eodwine and Saeryn might be thinking of getting a pony or a small horse for the twins to learn on. In the meantime, Léof supposed Eoghan might try riding his own mare Æthel, a rather small middle-aged horse. She had always been good-natured and had steadied even more after mothering a couple of foals.

He nearly suggested a ride that afternoon but paused when they stepped outside and he saw the overcast sky. “Maybe when the weather clears up, I’ll let you try riding my horse,” he said instead. “I think you two might get along.”

[Folwren]

Eoghan did a few hop skips to show his excitement, and he grinned from ear to ear. They spotted Thornden with Elfthain coming out from behind the stables at the same time, and Eoghan ran across to Thornden.

“Thornden! Léof is going to let me ride his horse! Maybe when the weather clears up.”

Thornden reach his hand out to the boy, and Eoghan took it with both of his. Thornden swung him forward a stride or two and then Eoghan landed again on his feet and bounced along by his side.

“And he says maybe I can ride her and we’ll get along!”

“Well, good for him!” Thornden said, smiling. He felt rather like an uncle to Eoghan and Ruari, and he was pleased to hear that Eoghan’s riding lessons would soon begin. He was also amused by Eoghan’s carrying on, for the lad scarcely ever showed such excitement about anything.

“Good morning, Léof,” he called as their paths converged and he and Elfthain drew closer to Léof. “Have you told Eodwine yet that you’re going to teach his son the art of riding?”

[Galadriel55]

Ledwyn was glad that Lady Saeryn swept the conversation aside. She was ashamed of herself, and yet unsure if she wished to have said less or have said more.

She interrupted her musings when she saw a familiar figure come into the Great Hall. Brithiel, slender and elegant, glided through the doorway and looked around her, perhaps in search for a seat. Ledwyn was meaning to speak to the lady for the last two days, but with so many duties the chance never presented itself. She could not miss it now.

Putting aside her earlier woes as best as she could, she approached Brithiel and steeled herself for what she must say. She was preparing for this the last two days, and she should not blunder again as she did before.

"Westu hal, Lady Brithiel," she said, inclining her head. "I offer you our bread and mead. You are our honoured guest, but this is more than honour. I came to ask for your forgiveness. I pray you shall not judge the rest by my doings and misdoings. My bearing is low, but the bearing of the Hall is high. If there is a deed I can do to reclaim your respect, you must name it to me."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc sat down at the table in the hall. He had not slept well. Again. Maybe the rainy weather was to blame, his right arm again hurt badly. He had woken up several times, and when it happened in the morning after the rain had finally subsided, he could hear Áforglaed waking up and rummaging around the room for long enough that it kept him awake for good.

Hilderinc took a sip of water from the cup as he saw the women entering from the kitchens. The smell of porridge that came to him from across the room made his mouth water. He realised he was quite hungry. Then he heard squelching noises and turning his head to the right, he saw Áforglaed trotting towards him from the entrance, dragging mud with him all over the Hall. Hilderinc wondered where had he been; his boots looked as if he had spent the morning by walking in a swamp.

"Morning, Hilderinc," the younger soldier greeted him, so cheerfully that Hilderinc wondered whether Áforglaed had actually woken up early to play in the mud like a five-year old. He could see the image very vividly in his mind, and shook his head at it. Áforglaed interpreted that motion in his own way.

"What, don't be such a sourface," he said, sitting down. "It is a nice morning. Maybe it will finally stop raining today. Oh no," he added, probably for the first time noticing the state of his boots and the substance that was still dripping from them. "The women are not going to thank me."

"No, they certainly are not," Hilderinc confirmed, eyes focused on Ledwyn and lady Saeryn, who were going around offering bread. Each of the soldiers took a piece when the bread came their way and started munching immediately. Then the kitchen door opened once again and Kara with Stefnu appeared with the porridge.

Hilderinc noticed that Áforglaed promptly hid his muddy boots further under the table as Stefnu approached. She did not seem to notice. Smiling at Hilderinc, she put two big spoonfuls of porridge into his bowl. Áforglaed jumped to hold his own bowl in front of her, watching eagerly as she dumped one spoonful in it. Grinning, Áforglaed looked up at her again, expecting more. But Stefnu only smiled. Hilderinc had to hide his expression behind his own bowl, as Áforglaed's previously radiant face changed from utter disbelief into obvious terror. Only then Stefnu casually topped Áforglaed's bowl with another spoonful, considerably larger than the previous one.

"Thank you," Hilderinc said for them both, as Áforglaed sat down, appartently confused and unable to piece together what had just happened. Still smiling, Stefnu nodded at them and drifted away towards the other tables.