Hard Winters RPG

[Firefoot]

The fight over, Scyld rapidly found himself alone at the end of the table. Once, he would have found the whole scuffle entertaining: the way Lady Saeryn still seemed to feel threatened by Rowenna (why else so blatantly assert her authority?), Rowenna's rare loss of composure, Léof’s obvious discomfort.

He stirred his soup absently. He was still aware of these things, but his primary emotion now was not amusement. He felt the detachment that he’d cultivated for years slipping away, and he wasn’t sure he liked – or trusted – the way that felt. Glancing over at Rowenna’s still-full soup bowl, he considered trying to take it to her – wasn’t that what she wanted, a man to serve her meal? A smirk twitched at his lips at the thought, but he rejected it. He did not know where she had gone, and he was not going to chase after her. Besides, he had no wish to go back out into the cold and wet now that he was warm and dry.

He played over the fight in his mind as he ate. He was keenly reminded of an earlier thought: that Rowenna still felt she had something to prove. And why should that be? Saeryn was right – no one would dare disrespect Rowenna. But perhaps because of Eodwine’s protection, she never felt that she had earned that respect in her own right? Or maybe, was there something about herself that she simply found un-respectable?

He’d been drawn to her for many reasons, but perhaps the biggest was that they were much alike. For the first time, he wondered if that was a good thing. He frowned. Once, long ago, Rowenna had claimed to have found a home here, but clearly there was still tension. If she had not managed in five years to lay that to rest, what hope did he have? Why had he come back?

He shook his head; it seemed that everyone was in a dark mood tonight.

Just as he was starting to think that Rowenna had been gone overlong, he saw her come inside. He was surprised to see her approach Saeryn directly, though he was too far away to hear what was said. Well. Maybe she would come back for her soup. Despite all his doubts, he rather hoped she would.

[Folwren]

As Saeryn passed from the cold rain into the warm, comforting atmosphere of the hall, she drew a slow breath. She felt suddenly tired and very hungry. Garreth’s grumblings had become so commonplace she scarcely remembered them, and the dash through the rain had released the built tension of her quarrel with Rowenna. She resolved to find Rowenna and make it right…later. Now, she was ready to go and sit by Eodwine. It seemed more than just a few hours since they last spoke quietly and uninterrupted together.

She made her way forward, pausing once or twice along the way. Suddenly, her name was called from behind, loudly. She turned and faced Rowenna.

“Lady, your serving wench asks your forgiveness for her rash words and deeds. What does the lady require of her serving wench?”

Her words struck Saeryn like a physical blow. She blinked and caught her breath sharply. For a moment, she had no response.

“You are not my serving wench, Rowenna. In all I said, I never meant that. Please,” she said, her shoulder’s drooping a little, “go sit down and finish your supper. I have fed the rest of the people. There is nothing left to be done for the time being. Or,” she added realizing Rowenna’s condition, “get into something dry first.”

Hoping it was enough for the time being to quiet Rowenna, she turned away and approached the head table.

[littlemanpoet]

So Saeryn was going to run Scarburg with her feelings rather than by her will. So be it. Rowenna had already laid it out for herself that she would treat every whim of the lady as her iron will, no matter how inconsistent. She wondered if Saeryn had noticed that Rowenna had looked over her head rather in the eye during the whole exchange. She shrugged.

"I shall of course choose from the choices the lady of Scarburg has given me," Rowenna said to Saeryn's back.

She walked out of the room into the women's quarters, with not so much as a glance for Scyld.

[Firefoot]

"Yes, it's a bit tense over there," said Léof, taking the cleared seat. "How are you settling in, Cerwyn?"

"Oh, fine," she said, her smile just a little too sweet. "Javan and I were just getting to know each other." She looked past her brother to answer Javan's question.

"My father let me go to Edoras with the widow he's set to remarry and her son. I ran off from there."

"You really ought to have left a message or something," Léof said.

"Then they might have tracked me down before I got here," she retorted. Léof shrugged, conceding the point, not wishing to fight in front of Javan. "As you said," Cerwyn continued, "we'll send them word, and then they'll stop worrying. It's not as though I'm trying to stay hidden or keep secrets forever."

Léof frowned, sensing a barb but unsure where it was aimed.

Satisfied at having made her point, Cerwyn turned to Javan again. "Do you have brothers or sisters?" she asked him.

[Folwren]

Javan understood the jab, and he and Garmund shared a covert grimace. He blinked and wiped the amusement off his face when Cerwyn addressed him again.

"Yes," he said. "I've got four sisters and a brother. Thornden's the oldest - he's around here somewhere." He turned around and looked toward the head table. "There he is, by Eodwine. He's the steward here." He paused before turning back to his table, looking at Eodwine and Thornden, sitting side by side, but not conversing. They both looked tired.

Javan turned back around. "Thornden got here first, and my father thought to send me to him." He stopped before explaining why. "Actually, at the time, Eodwine's court was held in Edoras. It was an old inn, I think, where he first was. We moved the entire household here when the previous landlord here turned out to be a villain." He briefly told the story of Sorn and how Eodwine and his men got caught up in dealing with his crimes. He could not go into much detail, for honestly, he did not remember much, he having been but a boy, and an irresponsible, disinterested one at that.

When he finished, there was a brief pause. It came to Javan that perhaps Cerwyn hadn't really been interested in the story. She was, after all, just newly arrived and probably did not care much for their history. He wasn't even sure how long she was going to stay.

"Are you planning on staying?" he asked.