Hard Winters RPG

[Mithalwen]

Elfthain startled dropped his porridge spoon into his bowl with a clatter and stared at Javan and Thornden astonished, while thoughts tumbled over themselves in his mind like a torrent of meltwater down a mountain side crashing into rocks and carrying smaller pebbles in the flow.

It had never crossed his mind that he wouldn't go back. He was only there because he was effectively being punished, not that he would admit that to his new acquaintances, and his future had been planned out for him so far in advance that it hadn't occurred to him that he might change it. And he was content to know the farm was waiting for him when he came of age and in the mean time he marked time, training for battles he hoped he never would have to fight. There was no doubt that staying would be harder work. He would not be able to slip off back to Upbourn when he was off duty, and however much he might resent other squires' suggestions of nepotism he had to admit that his uncle probably was more indulgent of his failings than a lord who was not a kinsman would be.

Yet he had enjoyed these past few days and liked the people who he had met. And maybe it would be worth the harder work and harsher conditions to be judged on his own merits... it might be the only chance he ever got for that.

"I would like to stay longer.... but I can't not just go back.. I am indentured...though since they thought it would do me good to come with the convoy it must mean staying longer would improve me more" he said with a grin "so maybe Elwin would grant permission if Lord Eodwine were amenable". be Elfthain paused and frowned remembering two stumbling blocks"If I did stay would I be under Wilheard's command? And would you have space for another horse?"

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine meandered around the Burg, looking for Wilheard. The young man had not been at breakfast when he had left there, so he chose to look elsewhere. He was not in the smokehouse. He was not at the latrine. Eodwine passed by the stables and saw the ostler Léof busy at his work, and a few others among the horses with him, but not Wilheard. He thought of going out to the top of the first hills of the scar, but shook his head. He did not think that Wilheard would go there first in the morning. He made his way out to the road, checked the wagon, no Wilheard.

Eodwine was more puzzled than frustrated. Maybe he was finally at his meal. But no, he was not in the hall, breaking his fast. Nor in the kitchens, making a nuisance of himself among the cooks and serving women. That left only one place.

Eodwine mad his way to the men's sleeping quarters. Sure enough, there was one body at rest. Eodwine got a slanted grin on his face. He stood at the door and put his hands to his mouth.

"Everybody, up and at it! Time for work!"

A groan came from the one occupied bed. Hands reached for the pillow and thrust it over the head.

"Wilheard! It's time to get up!"

"Leave me be! I'm tired!"

Eodwine's smile now had about it a bit of the fatherly disciplinarian. He walked over to the soldier's bed, pulled the covers off, yanked the pillow away and chucked it over to the side, bent down, got within two feet of the shirker's ears and yelled.

"Wilheard! Up and at it! If you don't, Eorl Eodwine will hear about it first thing!"

[Folwren]

Thornden's expression sobered. It would be more difficult than he had originally imagined. He did not know the lad was indentured. Still, there could be no harm in asking.

The question about if Wilheard would be his superior made his smile disappear even more. Any reminder that Wilheard was not leaving was enough to make Thornden not feel very pleased at all.

"Léof will have to answer for the horse," he said, glancing at Léof, "but I can at least say that you will not have to be directly under Wilheard, if that is your desire. I am not sure what his position here will be, but he will not be over men." Not, anyway, he added to himself, if I have any say in it.

"Who is the man you are indentured to?"

[Galadriel55]

But the irises did not bloom for long, for by the time their petals opened, the ancient river has dried. Their blossoms withered, and their leaves lay flat, and their roots turned to dust. Too late their proud stems have bowed to the riverbank, this time to rest there and not rise. Thus went the river, and the irises, leaving no trace that they once ruled this land, and only the earth remained, for only earth is eternal.

The day was tired. It tried halfheartedly to hide it, but gave up the feeble attempt before midmorning. The sun’s beams were too weak to pierce the clouds. The clouds were too pale to cast darkness. The ground was covered with yesteryear’s grass, a sickly yellow hue. The day was weary and drained of colour, its eyes hazy with mist. It barely dragged its feet across the earth, hoping that night would come early to relieve him of that task. But night comes only at its own time. So the weary day must trudge on, its seconds counted by the rhythmic chomping of the ground at travelers’ feet.

For only the earth is eternal. Yes, that would be a good way to end that tale. And end without an end, as all tales should be. Balan liked his new story. He put it in a pocket of his mind, to pull it out when the right time will come.

As the mist ahead of him cleared, he saw a small figure in the distance: a man, making his way north. He must have been going since sunrise, for Balan was walking faster, and he did not see this man at the village where he spent the night. Last night this man must have still been behind him, but set out earlier this morning. One wayfarer is company to another, especially when both are going the same way. Balan quickened his pace.

As he approached, he noticed that the man was slender and short of stature for a man of the Mark. Looking closely, Balan thought that this was a young man, and he appeared weary or cold. Balan reached behind him into his rucksack, assuring himself of his provisions. He had enough food for two, and he would be able to get more food when he reached the next village, or possibly the Mead Hall, which he remembered to be nearby.

“Hoy there, lad! You have walked far this morning,” Balan called out.

[Mithalwen]

"Elwin son of Eldred, Captain in the King's Guard. He was my father's best friend" Elfthain felt himself colour as he omitted and my mother's brother, "He has other squires I am sure he can manage without me for a while if I write and tell him I could be useful here. I hope I could be useful here... especially if I wasn't under Wilheard's control... " he grinned at Thornden, "Though he spoke barely a handful of words to me all the journey through. There might be advantages to such a master" he added mischievously.

"It isn't the end of the world about the horse. Only I have a half-broken colt at home on the farm and I was schooling him myself...." he wasn't sure his mother would have resist the temptation to finish the job herself. It wasn't that she would do a bad job rather that she might do it almost too well and he dreaded the mirth it might provoke if his "pony" were replaced by a palfrey.

[Firefoot]

Cerwyn heard the footsteps of someone coming up behind her; the sucking, squelching mud made a stealthy approach difficult. She pulled the hood of her cloak further over her face and moved to the side of the road to let the traveler pass. So far on her journey this had worked well. Travelers on horseback had rode past with little more than a wave and a greeting, as had those coming from the opposite direction. This was the first person on foot to come up behind her, and she stiffened when he called out a greeting. Surely it was too soon for someone travelling on foot to catch up with her, if they had been sent out after her from Edoras? One on horseback might have made such good time, but surely not on foot – unless she missed her guess, she’d had nearly a full day’s head start before she would have been missed. She couldn’t be too careful, though. She reached up to make sure her hair was tucked away. Hopefully he would quickly pass her by, none the wiser.

“Hoy there, lad! You have walked far this morning,” the man said. She slowly turned, and saw that he was nearly upon her. He was older than her – none of the boys her age could grow a full beard like that yet. He had a kind face, she thought, and a nice smile.

“I have,” she said, trying to keep her voice even and low but wondering how he knew that. Had he been following her? Was she already found out? “The quicker I can finish my journey on this road, the better.”

[Thinlómien]

Someone was shouting his name. Loud. And near. His blanket was gone. He was cold, so cold. He wondered if they'd made him sleep outside, like Father had once done. Or maybe he'd fallen off his horse and fallen asleep in the snow on the Scar. Had they come looking for him then?

"Eorl Eodwine will hear about it first thing!"

"Eorl Eodwine be damned!" Wilheard said. His voice sounded very weak to his own ears. He wondered what was wrong with him. "Bring me..." he croaked. "Please bring me my brother."

Wulfric could fix this. Wulfric had always fixed everything. He'd know what had happened, too.

"Wulf, why am I so cold?" Wilheard muttered, groping for the blanket that was not there.

[Thinlómien]

The great hall was always so full with breakfast time! And it was the same struggle every morning, too. The fist morning she had sat with Fréa and Caranthir, the second she had been kindly accepted to sit with Modtryth and Leodthern and they had later been joined by other household women. Now she was again wondering who could she sit next to.

"Westu hal, Lady Brithiel."

Brith turned her head quickly to see she had been approached by Ledwyn. She nodded, and smiled.

Ledwyn went on in Rohirric: "I something you our bread and mead. You are our something something, but this is more than something. I something to ask for your something. I something you something not something the rest by my doings and something. My something is something, but the something of the Hall is something. If there is a something I can do to something your something, you must name it to me."

Oh dear, Brith thought, keeping the smile on her face. What can I say? It didn't help that Ledwyn looked dead serious, and Brith sensed that whatever the other woman had just said had a great importance to her.

"No, no," she said a little uncertainly, in Rohirric. "Everything is good. Thank you, Ledwyn."

She swallowed uneasily and smiled. She hoped she hadn't just made an even bigger mess, and even more she hoped it was all settled now. If not, someone who spoke Westron had better rescue her soon.