Scarburg Meadhall

[Groin Redbeard]

Lithor stood with Iomhair for a few moments watching Balvir leave. She looked to be at least half his age; yet, despite this she was not uncomfortable around strangers.

"Do you ride?" He asked abruptly when the silence became disagreeable.

Iomhair looked as if she was about to bust with excitement. Lithor wasted no time and led her at a brisk pace to the stables. His horse was awake, anxious to know what the cause of the excitement was. When Lithor was saddling his horse, the thought occurred to him that it would be highly improper for him to ride with an unmarried girl young enough to be his daughter; however, he hated the thought of leaving her behind or letting an outsider ride off with his horse.

"Tell me, lady: can you ride alone?" He was surprised to hear her confirmation of the question. He did not expect a northern lady to know how to ride. Nevertheless, Lithor trusted her word and hesitantly handed the reigns over. Besides, she won't go running off with my horse when we have all of her belongings here.

"Just follow the other riders. If you get close enough catch the rider with the lady in blue."

With a genuine smile of thanks Iomhair slowly started to a full gallop after the riders.

Lithor watched his horse slowly fade into the night air. "A lady who can read and write, also ride. Wherever she was raised it can't be all that bad. She will fit in well here."

[Eönwë]

Dan was left behind during the chase. He had no horse, and even if someone had offered him theirs, it would be to no avail, as he had never learnt to ride a horse. And anyway, considering his height, a pony would probably be more appropriate. He stood now, looking out towards the plains, and could see Eodwine and Saeryn in the front, followed by others he could not make out in the darkness, even with the moon rising, leaving the galloping riders as silhouettes outlined with a silver light, cold and magical.

The evening had been a strange one indeed. Though could see that something was going on between Eodwine and Saeryn he had been completely surprised that they were going to get married. Then again, he was a newcomer, and it seemed that those who had been part of the community for much longer than he had weren't as surprised and were just happy that Lord Eodwine had finally decided to marry again. And even stranger was the fact that they announced that their wedding would be the very same night, as if they could not bear to hide it any longer, or as if there was some need to rush the proceedings. Interesting, he thought to himself- he would have to think more on this later on. Besides, he was happy for the Eorl- he was a wise and kindly man with a good sense of humour as well, which was hard to come by in those in such high positions, but then again, Eodwine had not been born an Eorl. He was good man, and deserved such a kind, beautiful and intelligent wife. Dan had been cheering along with the rest of Scarburg when Eodwine proposed.

Dan's spirits lowered a little. It seemed like everyone was getting together with someone. There was Eodwine and Saeryn, and there was also Harreld and Ginna, whose relationship seemed more complicated than it looked, but again he had not been in the Hall at the time. Even Erbrand, who was new like Dan himself, had found someone. Actually, thought Dan, What was wrong with Erbrand today? He made up his mind to find out later, which would probably be tomorrow after the festivities had ended. Erbrand had seemed unsure of himself and determined to prove himself all day, and he also seemed to have a grudge with Thornden that he wanted to settle, but as to why, Dan had no idea what would turn a normally kind and relaxed man into such a wild fighter. And I'm supposed to be the Wild Man here... A grim smile made its way across his rugged features. The man needed to come to his senses. Since Erbrand had started being with Kara, he had become much more sensitive and slightly paranoid, and it could get worse unless he came to terms with his feelings. So Dan resolved to talk to his friend later.

The sword fight hadn't been too bad either. He had beat, Erbrand, who surprisingly hadn't taken it too badly. But next he had been up against Crabannan, who was much larger, and so it wasn't a surprise that we won, even though Dan did manage to make it quite a show. And Crabannan proved to be the winner in the end anyway, so he didn't mind losing to him that much.

After the final event, it seemed that everyone was busy doing whatever they were doing for the wedding, and had forgotten all about him, so Dan had nothing to do, and was reduced to wandering the camp aimlessly.

The wedding had been impressive, especially what had been prepared at such short notice. And the had been that old man. Who is he and how did he know exactly when to come? thought Dan. He was one of the many peculiar conundrums that Dan had started to take for granted in this place, as it became a sort of home to him, but he still wanted to find out more of this Eodwemer.

He looked away from the chase and went towards the kitchens to see if anyone wanted any help there. On the way, he met someone who was also walking in the same direction. It was one of the guards who he had come to know not well, but at least as an acquaintance. "Balvir," said Dan, "How goes the night watch?"

[Thinlómien]

"Garmund! Let's go!" Cnebba shouted and pulled his friend's arm. "Let's catch them!"
Garmund appeared a little hesitant and eyed around.
"Come! Let's ride Snowstreak, she's a good horse!"
Finally, the older boy agreed, and the boys dashed off to the stables.

Modtryth, momentarily forgotten by the kids, watched them run away without saying anything. She could have refused the horse (it could be dangerous for two wild and unexperienced riders to ride in the dark, or Stigend might have wanted to have the family horse), or at least rebuked Cnebba for not asking before taking the horse, but she was so happy she didn't mind such small things.

Eodwine and Saeryn's tale had reached a happy end, and now they were galloping towards their dream. Surrounded by happy and enthusiastic folk, Modtryth could hardly have been sad even if she hadn't cared about the fates of the two so much. Stigend and Garstan were standing only a dozen feet away and answering Léothern's inquiries about their weddings and weddings in general. Her enthusiasm amused Modtryth, especially as the girl was still sitting on her dad's shoulders like she had been for all the ceremony in order to see better.

There was a familiar neigh. Modtryth turned and saw Cnebba and Garmund leading Snowstreak out of the stables. Her heart was filled with pride when she saw how carefully and calmly her son handled the old mare, and how gentle he was depsite his own great excitement. She watched the boys mount and gallop away. Even when they could no longer be seen because of the dark, she could hear their shouts of joy. Modtryth found herself smiling at the enthusiasm of the two little boys. She closed her eyes for just a minute and enjoyed the enthusiasm actually shared by all the folk of the hall surrounding her.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld offered to take Ginna on his mount but she wanted her own and begged her father until he relented. They made a race of it. Truth be told, they were more interested in their own race than the chase for Saeryn. That is, until they started hearing some loud whooping ahead of them. It seemed that Thornden and Erbrand had caught up to the bride and groom and were trying to figure out how to remove her from her spot in front of her new husband. They hurried after the others on the chase so as not to miss out on the fun.

"Touch my wife and I promise great bodily harm," Eodwine joked. "But you realize, I hope, that you are going to have to stop my horse if you ever hope to remove Saeryn, for you have to get through me to get her. First man to touch her I'll throw in the dungeon."
Eodwine said this with a grin so they laughed and didn't take him seriously - except for the always more grave than anyone else Thornden who, though he laughed with the rest, had a moment's misgiving that fluttered in his stomach.

"What!" cried Eodwine, "no bold words back from you ruffians?"

[Folwren]

The horses were loping side by side. Erbrand was on Eodwine’s right and Thornden on his left.

“Nay, my lord,” Thornden said, “we are too frightened to speak! Save now, of course.” He was actually trying to think of a way to stop Eodwine’s horse without hurting any people or animals.

Erbrand apparently came up with a usable plan, for he suddenly sped forward and cut his horse in, swerving towards Flíthaf’s off shoulder. The maneuver forced Flíthaf to shorten his stride and swerve towards Thornden and his horse.

In an instant, the opportunity was taken hold of. Thornden seized the back of Eodwine’s saddle and with one swift movement, leaped from his horse onto Flíthaf’s back. He reached about Eodwine and grappled with his arms, trying to wrest them away from Saeryn’s waist. Flíthaf, burdened with the weight of three people, and two of them full grown men and warriors, slowed his pace considerably. Erbrand finally got hold of his bridle and the two horses stopped.

“Help me get him down,” Thornden gasped. “Or at least get him to let go of her, so you can get her.”

[littlemanpoet]

"No tickling allowed," Eodwine said. Sandwiched between Thornden behind and Saeryn in front, he had little room for maneuvering and it was not long before both his arms were pulled back in a tight grasp at the elbows by Thornden.

"Roll to one side," Erbrand said, "and you'll have Eodwine off his mount. Then we can take horse and rider back with us and leave our lord to walk back!"

"Now that would be cow - ard - ly!" Eodwine called as Thornden pulled him off the left side of Flíthaf. They hit the ground. "Ouch."

"Who are you to say ouch, my Lord!" cried Thornden. "You landed on me!"

"You have hard bones, my steward."

Even as Eodwine struggled up Erbrand was pulling Flíthaf away by the reins, still bearing Saeryn at a walk. To that man's surprise, however, Saeryn slid off the stallion's back and landing on her feet, called, "You may have the lord's horse, Erbrand, but you haven't his bride!" Erbrand looked back and cursed mildly.

By this time a half dozen of the others had ridden up. It was not long before Thornden, Eodwine, and Saeryn were surrounded. Thornden held Eodwine. "Take the lady while I hold Lord Eodwine!" he said.

Harreld dismounted and with a bow said, "I am sorry, lady, but we must take you from our lord. Will you ride with me?"

"Since you ask so gallantly," Saeryn smiled, "I will, but my lord will make you pay for the honor!"

"I do not doubt it!" Harreld grinned and favored Eodwine with a wink; Eodwine returned his gesture with a single raised brow and a humorless smile.

Soon the whole troop had left them but for Thornden. He let Eodwine from his grasp at last. "Give me a chance to join the others before you begin your heroics, my lord."

"Go then," Eodwine smiled. Thornden mounted his steed and rode away.

Eodwine watched him gallop off. After he had passed through the gap in the Scar, Eodwine sighed and looked up at the night sky. It was strange to be alone. Well, not quite alone. Erbrand had left him Flíthaf, who was calmly foraging not twenty paces off. Eodwine thought back to his wild desire of just a few moments ago to flee from the Scar with Saeryn and be free from all bond and responsibility. Now he was alone. He looked to the distance now, alone, his bride "kidnapped", waiting for him to claim her. He could ride away and be free alone. He breathed a single reflective laugh, half a grin on his lips. A fleeting dream, nothing more. Foolishness and less than half a man he who did such a deed.

He called to his steed and mounted. They loped back to Scarburg. Once inside his lands he saw that the folk were gathered near the baker under the lights. Surely Saeryn was with them. He saw that they had left the pair of swords behind from the rite. He dismounted and picked them up and walked to the baker, followed by Flíthaf, a sword in each hand. "I must look a spectacle," he thought as he approached.

[Folwren]

It was amidst a rush of laughter and cheerfulness that Saeryn was abducted back to Scarburg. A half dozen horses cantered around her and Harreld, the people calling jovial comments back and forth. Saeryn sat side ways on Harreld’s saddle-bow, his arm securely about her waist to keep her from jumping down. She laughed along with the rest, but her mind kept going back to Eodwine, alone now as he surely must be.

They came back to the encampment and the waiting people breathless with laughter, excitement, and the speed of the horses. A cheer arose from those who had stayed behind, and Saeryn was lowered to the ground to be embraced and kissed by Modtryth, Kara, Rowenna, and all the other women folk, before she was hurried away to prepare for Eodwine’s arrival. They did not have much time, but it was enough to let her hair down and arrange it into a contained mass of falling curls, crowned with a wreath of flowers.

“He returns! He is coming!” Shouts and hails from outside brought Saeryn running. She could not see him yet, but she rushed to meet him in the Baker where all the others were assembled. She glanced around the lighted tent. Eodwine was not there, but all the eyes and faces were directed outside. She went in the indicated direction – the people made way for her – and then she saw him, leading his horse up into the ring of light and bearing two swords.

If Eodwine looked a spectacle, Saeryn did not notice. She thought he looked like a hero returning from a distant war. She ran forward and threw her arms around his neck, seeking another kiss.

Thornden followed discreetly, and when Eodwine’s hand loosed Flíthaf’s reins in order to take his wife, Thornden took hold of the horse instead. Then, gently, so as not to disturb, he took the swords from the eorl’s hand and then led Flíthaf away.

[littlemanpoet]

He had imagined them holding her hostage (in a frienldy way) in the middle of the Baker. He had expected to walk up to the Baker and issue threats that if she was not immediatley returned to him then vengeance would be his. He had not had a chance to say a single word for she came running out of the Baker, looking as beautiful and joyful as he had ever seen her. And that was saying something. She jumped into his arms and sought his lips with her own.

Even though it had been playing at kidnapping and not really so, being reunited with her now still hit him as strongly as if it had been real, and he felt tears leak out of his eyes. He barely noticed when the reins and swords were taken from his hands. He murmured words of endearment, not quite sure what he was saying, only sure that he meant them with all his heart, and that they were good and not anything that could be taken amiss.

The moment could have lasted for eternity and he would not have minded.

Then someone shouted, "Dance!" Others joined in the cry until the whole troop seemed to be calling for it.

[littlemanpoet]

They danced and feasted and then settled down by a big bonfire and traded riddles. The sun had set long ago and the stars had wheeled far in the night sky before the riddlers and listeners finally gave into weariness and settle down for the night. And so a long, event-filled, and delightful summer day at long last came to an end.

Eodwine's last moments before slumber took him were quiet and content. His wife slept in his arms in the cool of the deep night.

And now the new adventure begins, he thought to himself, and closed his eyes.

[Groin Redbeard]

The wedding is complete. Lord and lady had left for the comfort and solitude of their room, leaving a lingering, shrinking, group of people talking about the day—an exciting day! Not long after the lord and lady had gone to bed, Erbrand retired from the conversations. He stayed awake for hours thinking about the dance—Kara was beautiful in the moonlight.

If music be the food of love, play on; give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die. That last note—it had a dying fall! It came to my ear like the sweet sound that breathes upon a bank of violets, stealing and giving keen fragrance! Spirit of love, how quick and fresh you are!

Erbrand sat against the pole outside of his tent for a long while just thinking about the day: the race with Kara; his confrontation with Thornden; the wedding; the dance. The wind rustled the grass and swayed his long brown hair with a vibrant energy. The stars were particularly beautiful tonight; one of the last clear nights before winter would arrive. Soon the deer would become scarce to find. Hunting parties will have to be made and travel far in search of quarry. Erbrand lazily reached back for one of his arrows; he held the shaft and twiddled the barb between his fingers. For a long while his thought was bent on the excitement of the hunt, however, the arrow soon reminded him of the archery contest that day: the breaking of his bow and of Thornden.

Thornden! the name he hated to hear, to be reminded of. Erbrand had eyed him all night, dancing, laughing, and talking with Kara when Erbrand had left. The arrow in his hand suddenly became more interesting than before, Erbrand held the point closer to him and imitated its flight with cruel intent.

“I wonder what it would feel like to be shot with one this?” he whispered under his breath, faintly laughing at the thought.

Erbrand was not a ruthless person you must understand, but he hated Thornden with all his heart. As long as he felt Thornden was between him and Kara’s affection, Erbrand would not stop until he say Thornden put in his place, and that proper place was anywhere away from Kara. Stigend had made things perfectly clear to him. Erbrand planned to win Kara’s love and put Thornden in his proper place in a single act; he would impress Kara and all of Scarburg! But there is time, time is all he needs. Everything will be done in its due time.

[Nogrod]

After the games and all the jubilation it was time for work. The Mead Hall was nothing near being a real Mead Hall and even if there still was a long way ahead of them until winter would come, lord Eodwine knew they had to hurry.

They worked full hours through the hot days of the late summer sweating and trying to repel the gadflies and other hornets there seemed to be more they had bargained for. And they toiled through the reddening of the leaves of autumn, in rain and in cold rays of the autumn sun, falling asleep tired and cold but satisfied for the work they had done.

And piece by piece, stone after stone and baulk after baulk, the Mead Hall started to emerge into the place where only ruins had been when they first came to Scarburg almost half a year ago. It was far from being ready, but it started to look like something, day by day.

There were no stables, there were no quarters for the people, there was no fixed granary or any other storehouse for food. But there was a makeshift smithy, a temporary shed for the animals, and a rude windmill to give them power, built when the autumn winds really started to blow through the marshlands. It was a colder place they had anticipated.

The people had lived in the tents as long as the weather had allowed and after that they had all moved into the Mead Hall itself gathering around the newly built fireplace to get themselves warm – even if most of the Mead Hall was still under construction. Every morning the females and the children cleared the space for the men, residents and guests, to continue their work and only then went for their duties of collecting wood, gathering berries and mushrooms, carrying water – and the boys occasionally helped the craftsmen and soldiers carrying out the actual building-work.

A real kitchen with a stone-oven and a decent fireside-cooking area had been built for Kara and Frodides as one of the first things. From there the hearty meals went forwards to the hungry people day after day accompanied by the ever-smiling faces of the two cooks – helped by Ginna and Modtryth.

But lord Eodwine followed the draining of their supplies with weary eyes. King Eomer had sent them building supplies on late summer; several ox-carts of wood and stone. Stigend and Garstan had finally talked him over to see there were not enough of the resources around if they wished to build a real Mead Hall, a Mead Hall of a kind Eodwine wished for. But because he had to ask for the king for building supplies he didn’t dare to ask for any more food – and the stacks of grain and vegetables were growing thin indeed.

He would have to solve it by himself. And he knew what he had to do.

~’~

The Middle Emnet was the southeast quarter of West Emnet, bordered by the Snowbourn to the south and the Entwash to the east. King Eomer had made an administrative move to improve the governance of Rohan by instituting a Mead Hall on the lands immediately surrounding Edoras, and made Eodwine the Eorl of Mid Emnet. Now that meant he had to bring the landlords that ruled the area under the king’s governance. He had postponed the inevitable meeting with the local landlords the whole summer wishing to meet them in a shiny new Mead Hall worthy of the king’s eorl but it seemed he had no more time to waste.

And it would not be an easy negotiation…

The local landlords had used to rule over the Mid Emnet themselves; they collected taxes in change for protection from the peasants and they dictated the law to them. They would not be too happy to hear that the king would take those privileges from them even if they were war-heroes, or their offspring, and were loyal to the crown of Edoras.

Lord Eodwine would have to call them to the Mead Hall before it was as he wanted it to be. He had to call them for they would have to send him food supplies for the winter no matter how ready or unready the Mead Hall was. And he would have to tell them they would not only need to start sending him food-supplies on regular basis, but that they would also need to start paying taxes to the king via the Mead Hall, and would lose their right to judge on any affairs of dispute. He and the Mead Hall would be the new centers of gravity in Mid Emnet. It would be hard for them to chew but they sure had had time to think of any counter moves as it was no secret lord Eodwine and his following had moved in to Scarburg almost half a year ago.

It was indeed the most worrying sign to lord Eodwine that none of them had approached him willingly after they had moved in. The silence felt awkward.

On September the 27th he wrote a letter to be sent to the three most remarkable landlords around.

He knew Tancred son of Ewald well. He had been a captain in the same force lord Eodwine had served himself in the Pelennor Fields and even before it. He was a great soldier, a shrewd tactician and a trustee of the late king Theoden. But that trust was earned during the days of Theoden’s misery. Lord Eodwine didn’t like him. He actually feared him but stood calm. He would have to meet that man and wrestle the king’s authority over him however he would react to this kind of approach. And he was about ten years older than lord Eodwine. Forcing Tancred to subdue to him would be a challenge.

He knew Alboin son of Oswine as well. He was not of a stature Tancred was, but he was an intelligent and a stern lord. Lord Eodwine didn’t actually love Alboin either as he thought he was a coward but he knew some praised his courage. Maybe it was more a matter of personal relations?

He didn’t know Faramund son of Friduhelm that well but he had known his father well enough. They had fought side by side in the Pelennor fields and he both admired and loved the old man. And he still lived. But he had given the rule over his estates to his son Faramund Eodwine knew almost nothing about; but that he was very young, twenty something… If Friduhelm would come he would have an ally in the meeting, Eodwine thought writing the letters. And if not, he could always appeal to Faramund to prove worth of his father…

On October the 10th it would be seen…

~’~

On the first days of October lord Eodwine had started to cough and sneeze a lot. Saeryn was worried and demanded that her husband would rest just for a day or two to get himself well. But lord Eodwine would have none of it. They had to finish as much as they could before the landlords would arrive and he would have to show example to all others. It was just a flu and if the orc-spears were not able to fell him, neither would a little flu do it. And ignoring Saeryn’s protests he went to the work as the first one in the morning and left as the last one in the evening braving zero temperatures at mornings and late evenings.

And they had advanced a lot. Garstan and Náin had finished the inner stonewalls and the fireplace with great precision while Stigend had built a beautiful plank floor and elegant tables and benches, and a great seat for the eorl – most of them adorned with Erbrand’s skillful leather-work. It was looking good even if here or there one could see it was not finished at all.

On October 9th lord Eodwine got a fever. He wished to join the workforce but now lady Saeryn was accompanied by Thornden and they finally talked him to stay in bed. Aedhel was called in and she did what she could making potions from herbs she had available trying to ease the fever.

But it was of no avail. The fever rose the whole day and in the evening lord Eodwine was sweating and had a terrible fit of convulsions. A cramp attack followed another and shortly he lost consciousness.

Aedhel shook her head beside his bed. “There’s nothing I can do to him here…” she said slowly. “We need to get him to Edoras”.

The people bent over his bed looked at each other in pain.

Lord Eodwine opened his eyes suddenly, panting heavily… “You need to… you… tomorrow… I’ll be fine… … … Saeryn! … My love! … take care of the child…”

His eyes rolled over and everyone screamed.

“Do something! For Valar’s sake do something!” Saeryn cried almost hysterically shaking all over.

Modtryth tried to console her but her eyes were filled with tears and her hands were shaking as she tried to hold Saeryn in her arms. Thornden wished to have the situation in his control but found himself lacking the words or action for it and just stood there looking at his lord fading away.

Crabannan had the stamina to bend over Eodwine and try the pulse.

“It’s still beating! He’s not dead! … He’s not dead!!!” He yelled.




It was past midnight and the landlords would come in the early afternoon.

[Folwren]

Thornden was roused from his stupor. His authority returned to him, along with his senses. “Come,” he said, touching those nearest him. “Leave him to Æđel and Saeryn.” He cleared the room of all but the women folk who would stay and help. Saeryn remained by Eodwine’s bedside, clinging to his hand.

Once out, he roused Léof and Javan from their beds. “Hitch up the smoothest wain to your fastest horses, Léof. Javan will help you.”

Léof wanted to ask questions, but he was too obedient to even open his mouth. Javan, on the other hand, felt no scruples about questioning his brother. “In the middle of the night, Thornden? What’s the matter?” The boys both looked at him. In the light of the lantern, their dark eyes glimmered as they waited expectantly for an answer. Thornden placed a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Lord Eodwine is very ill, and he must be taken to Edoras. Æđel can do no more for him, and he must be taken as quickly as possible. So, go. The rest of us will prepare what will be needed for the journey. You go and get the wagon.”

Javan was struck rooted to his place. “Lord Eodwine...” he murmured. Léof grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

The next half hour was filled with nervous activity for the entire household. The cooks prepared as much food as they could for the journey. They did not know how long it would take to get to Edoras, nor did they know if Eodwine would wake to eat at all. They also heated bricks and potatoes in the fire to wrap in blankets and so pack around Eodwine to keep him warm on the journey, at least for a while.

The rest of the household busied themselves with either preparing the wain for their eorl, or helping those to go get ready. Æđel had agreed to go, but she could not prepare for herself, she was with Eodwine, so Modtryth packed what she needed for her. Garstan asked if he could accompany them, but Thornden denied permission, as Garstan would be needed for the continuation of the work on the Hall as soon as the landholders had left, and they did not know how long those who went to Edoras would be gone. Balvir and Wilcred would go with him.

Thornden came to the door as he heard the wagon rumble up before it. He found Saeryn standing just outside, a shawl wrapped tightly about her shoulders, vainly attempting to keep out the biting cold. Her neck and head rose uncaring above the wool folds of her wrap, and wisps of her hair touched her pale skin gently as they moved in the wind.

“Lady Saeryn,” Thornden said. “You should not be out here.”

“I want to go with him,” she stated quietly. “I am his wife, and I want to stay with him.”

Thornden looked at her, saying nothing for a moment. Then he unclasped his heavy cloak and wrapped it about her shoulders. Her cold fingertips grasped the edges and clutched it into place about her throat.

“I will not stop you, lady,” he said. “But I will ask you, please stay. Tomorrow the men from surrounding lands are coming, and we must carry out Eodwine’s plans. They cannot be changed or postponed now. I do not. . .I can not do it myself.” Saeryn looked up at him. He met her eyes, swallowed his pride, and said again, “Please stay.”

Was Thornden actually afraid? Saeryn eye’s searched his face. He had every right to be. The responsibilities of Eorl were falling swiftly and unexpectedly on his shoulders, and at a crucial time when things had to be done. She knew he could carry out his duties well, but Thornden was not as certain. He was young, after all. She, and others, tended to forget that during their everyday contact with his firm and steady handling of matters.

“Of course you must go,” Thornden said, breaking the long pause and looking away. “You are his wife, after all, and you should be with him.”

“No, Thornden,” she said. “He would have me stay. It is as much my duty as yours to stay behind and look after the people. I am, after all, the Lady of Scarburg now. I will see that everything is run as he would have it run. You will meet the landlords and conduct the meeting that Eodwine had planned, and I will back you in whatever decisions you come to. Here, take back your cloak. I will go to him now.”

[Groin Redbeard]

His hurried footfalls echoed through the hall. Kara was tending the fire in the center of the great hall as Lithor approached.

“Have you seen Balvir?” he asked.

No smiles or cheerful greetings from Lithor today. Lord Eodwine’s turn for the worse did not surprise Lithor as it did others, instead it confirmed his fears. He had silently watched his lord grow sick and silently chastised him. “Ill can only come of taking ill,” he used to joke. “It’s no good ignoring something that’s there. Something has to be done about it.” However, nothing was done about it until Thornden intervened. All those jokes Lithor had made about Eodwine’s illness were no longer playful jests. Eodwine needed help and Lithor had the audacity to make fun of his lord’s predicament. Jokes turned to insults: invisible badges of shame to where around his neck.

“Where is Balvir?” Lithor asked again impatiently. Kara looked up at him and pointed to Eodwine’s chamber.

Lithor silently approached the open doorway. Modryth was attending Eodwine while Balvir and Wilcred stood by with a stretcher.

“How is he?” Lithor whispered.

“Ghostly pale, the trip will be a trial for him.” Responded Wilcred

There was silence again. All three looked on as Modryth attended her lord with extra tender attention. The silence was unbearable for Lithor.

“I will see if the wagon is ready.”

[Thinlómien]

Lord Eodwine was unconscious, and there were drops of sweat on his brow. Modtryth wiped them off gently. Balvir and Wilcred by the stretcher looked stressed and sorrowful, and Modtryth could see why for she felt the very same herself. Here lay, perhaps fatally ill, the noble and good-hearted lord who had taken her family as his folk without any prejudices and had respected them as how they were, not as how they seemed with their random history and Dunlending connections. The thought of losing such a good man would be a horrible loss to so many. Modtryth, however, knew that the lord's fate was not in her hands, and what would happen would happen, so she remained calm and did her duties.

There were soft footsteps and somebody entered the room.

"How is he?" Aedhel whispered as she came to Modtryth's side.
The older woman shrugged. "The same."
Aedhel nodded. "Good. I hope he will be alright. He will soon get the best care available in this land." She paused, then continued. "I finished the packings. Thanks for making everything ready for me. You can go now."
Modtryth nodded curtly and gave the healer a small smile. "Hope your journey goes safely."
"Thank you, and goodbye then," Aedhel said, returning the smile.
"Goodbye," Modtryth said and turned to hurry away.

She was almost at the door when she turned back and walked to the bedside. She bowed slightly. "Safe journey, my lord," she whispered although she knew he could not hear her. "And get better." Then she nodded politely to the two soldiers and Aedhel and left the room for good.

When she hurried out, she went to find Saeryn. Modtryth was at the lady's side more or less all the time since Saeryn had discovered she was pregnant, for as odd as it seemed to her, she was the only woman in the hall who had actually carried and delivered a child. Saeryn had been grateful to hear of herbs that would ease her feeling ill (and more delighted to find out that Aedhel had them) and had asked Modtryth practical questions from time to time.

Modtryth didn't have to do much to find her lady, for they met accidentally a few steps from Eodwine's door. Saeryn didn't say anything, but there was a question and a dim flicker of hope in her eyes. Modtryth forced a small smile. "It's not worse," she said. Saeryn nodded, and hurried past her to see her husband. Modtryth decided to go and find the kids instead.

Cnebba, Garmund and Leothern were all with Léof and Javan by the wagon, patting the horses harnessed to pull it.
"Mum, were you seeing Lord Eodwine?" Cnebba asked when she came there.
"Yes, I was looking after him for a short while so that Aedhel could pack her personal stuff and check what I had packed for her," she replied.
"How is he?" asked Léof quietly.
Modtryth turned to the young stablemaster and replied with equal seriousness: "He has high fever and he's unconscious. But he seems to be fighting, he is not going to wither away."
Léof nodded, then lowered his head either in grief or deep thought.

"Does he have any huge boils? Ghastly red spots all over his face?" Cnebba asked in an enthusiastic voice that merited a very dark scowl from his mother.
"Cnebba, you do not talk of Lord Eodwine like that! Show some respect, not only because he is your superior in age and rank - and wisdom or strength or anything, for that matter - but also because he has been so good to you and your family."
"I... I didn't mean to be disrespectful, truly! I'm sorry... Lord Eodwine... he... he's a good man," Cnebba stammered and Modtryth, to her astonishment, could see tears forming in the boy's eyes.

Of course, she thought, I have been so blind. She had been so concentrated on the worries of the hall and Saeryn's grief, that she had not noticed the worry and distress of the kids who truly liked and admired the lord.

She laid her hand gently on Cnebba's shoulder.
"Calm down, dear, of course you didn't mean to. But being enthusiastic about things like that made it sound like you did. Now, kids, Kara and Frodides have undoubtedly been busy with packing the food for the travellers, but they should have some blackcurrant juice in their stores. What if we go and have a mug of warm juice?"
"But I want to see Lord Eodwine leave," piped little Leothern and the boys murmured in agreement.
"Don't worry, we can come back to see him off, we still have some time. Come on."
Leothern, Cnebba and Garmund followed her immediately, and after hesitating a little, Javan came too.

[Groin Redbeard]

Balvir and Wilcred gingerly lowered Eodwine’s stretcher onto the wagon.

“Carefully, carefully.” Muttered Wilcred.

It was an uncomfortable scene. It was still too dark to discard the use of torches and Eodwine’s face looked pale in the light. Such was the way of burying a commoner: in the early dawn so as not to disturb the populace, Lithor had seen it before. Eodwine’s features were all downcast, barely a breath escaping past his lips; yet he was alive. It took a strong will to govern a band as diverse as lord Eodwine’s. Thornden would undoubtedly assume lordship but Lithor doubted the young man’s will to rule. The young captain was too young, gracious, yet firmly uncompromising—age had not yet taught Thornden the virtue diplomacy. Thornden could no doubt handle tomorrow’s meeting with the nobles. However, if one of them were to make a stand against Eodwine’s rule, what then? Lithor could picture the scene, but as important as the meeting was, his duty lay elsewhere.

Balvir and Wilcred drew close around Lithor after lord Eodwine had been strapped down. They spoke in hushed voices. Lithor spoke first.

“Are the horses ready Wilcred?”

“Saddled and awaiting our departure.”

“By all that is proper, I hope that we leave soon! I feel very uncomfortable leaving our lord lying in the frigid air, not to mention us as well. Besides, the darkness should give us an advantage in slipping away unseen.”

“Quite right, Balvir, the sooner the better, but we will not take leave before we see the lady Saeryn once more. Also, we should have our bows and quivers before we set out. Did you send Matrim to get them?”

“Aye that I did Lithor.”

“Why have we need of any bows? Surely nobody would dare to attack an escort as clearly marked as ours carrying our lord’s banner. Our swords will do well enough if push comes to shove.”

“Despite all the odds, I would rather have a bow in my hand and an enemy a hundred yards off.”

“But why do you speak so Lithor? Do you suspect trouble on the road?”

“Have you forgotten? Tomorrow, Thornden will be holding a counsel for the nobles under lord Eodwine’s lordship, several of whom I know to be hostile to Eodwine. If news of our lord’s sickness and of his travel to Edoras seeps out we may very well expect an assassination. Lord Eodwine is a strong leader and if he is dead the king might very well have appoint a weaker ruler to govern Scarburg. There are few men capable of handling a job such as granted to Eodwine, even before the great war.”
The three turned and looked at Eodwine lying in the wagon a few feet away and instinctively gathered to him. The whistle of the cold wind and the noise inside the hall made an eerie combination. A dark shape was coming towards them out of the darkness with two riders. Lithor, Balvir, and Wilcred looked at each other, half afraid and amazed to see this after Lithor’s prediction.

“Who’s there?” Lithor asked half timidly.

“Me of course,” came the answer, “I got your bows like Balvir asked; I also took the liberty of bringing up Wilcred's and Balvir's horses.”

Lithor breathed hard as Matrim came into the torchlight, leading their horses. Wilcred and Balvir were angry for being fooled so easily. Balvir whispered a couple of words at Matrim that that the other two couldn’t hear; Matrim simply looked at the three confused.

“Did you want your bows or not? Lord Eodwine’s sickness is of great distress to all of us, but there is no need to take it out on me! Save such treatment for the wayfarers on the road.”

“What grief has set the jaundice on our cheeks?” Lithor laughed. “A merry band of fools we are: scared of the dark as if we were little Cnebba or Garmund. Hope for the best and prepare for the worst is my advice and if all goes well we will have no use of our weapons. And let us not hear anymore talk of our lord as if he were already dead. Indeed, I am ashamed to say that the woman folk have born this better than we men have. Whereas woman may be pardoned to weep, men may not. Therefore, lift your countenance and take hope in Eodwine’s strength.”

Balvir gave him a prod. When Lithor turned he saw lady Saeryn standing in the doorway. I wonder how much she heard? He made a formal bow and stepped forward.

“My lady, lord Eodwine is placed as securely as possible inside the wagon; he will not be uncomfortable or hurt in any way.” Saeryn did not seem to mind him; her eyes were transfixed on her husband. There was a longing in her eyes that Lithor recognized. He knew that Saeryn wanted to go with her husband but refrained on account of her duties as lady of Scarburg.

“My lady, I do not mean to presume on matters that I do not know, but, if you wish, I could guarantee safe conduct for you and lord Eodwine to Edoras, if you so wished?” Saeryn looked at him curiously. Lithor felt the need to explain further.

“I was never a formal speaker with your husband. Forgive me for being equally honest with you, my lady. There are many duties which your ladyship could accomplish for Scarburg while in Edoras, if that is what holds you here. The King will wish to hear of lord Eodwine’s progress here at Scarburg and with winter approaching you will have the safety of Edoras to rely on. Lord Eodwine will get well soon, but it will take nurturing that only a wife can give. Who knows what the winter holds for Scarburg, my lady. It might be wise to come with me and to stay with your husband in Edoras. Pardon me if I have spoken out of turn, my lady. It is but my humble opinion.”

[Folwren]

“You do not make too bold, Lithor,” Saeryn said. “I understand you, but I can not go tonight. I will follow to Edoras, once the business of tomorrow is finished. More good will be done if I wait to go until after the meeting here, because then I will be able to speak in more detail with the king. I thank you for your concern, and I am glad that you speak so freely with me. I hope it will not change. I hope nothing will change.”

Lithor bowed and Saeryn went past him to the wain bearing Eodwine. She climbed in beside him, over the blankets and furs packed about him and knelt once more by him. As she surveyed his face this last time, she held in check the tears that came to her eyes. Lithor and the others standing by looked away. Saeryn reached down and grasped his hand beneath the blankets.

“Wake up,” she whispered. “Please wake up, just to say goodbye.” Her eyes searched his still, pale face, but no answering flicker of consciousness changed his features. She bent her head and kissed his cold lips. Her tears fell on his cheeks.

She raised herself again and then slowly drew a lightly woven veil over his face to help keep out the cold. All was now ready. She moved back down the wagon and Lithor helped her step down.

“Go now,” she said, her voice hard in the attempt to keep from breaking down. “Go with what speed you may.”

Lithor bowed again and went to his horse. Æđel was already seated on the wagon seat, wrapped in a cloak and with the reins in her hands. Wilcred and Balvir mounted their horses. The wagon rumbled over the frozen ground and wound its way up and out of Scarburg. Saeryn stood alone in the courtyard, watching it leave. The inhabitants of the Hall stood in or near the doorway. Huddled by the corner of the hall, hidden in deep shadow, Javan crouched, his hands over his face, weeping tears for which he was not ashamed.

[Nogrod]

It was the most quiet breakfast Scarburg had witnessed since the advent of the new settlers there. Some of the people had not slept at all and most others had only dozed off in anguish. Lord Eodwine was loved and admired – and almost newly wed! There had been optimism beyond any dream in the Mead Hall. Everything had looked so rosy! And now he was just gone and none knew whether he was coming back.

It had been more bearable in solitude or in company of just your nearest ones, but now the people had to face it together. It was so much harder to share it as no one knew what to say or do. They just emptied their plates slowly, everyone waiting for someone else to relieve them from the situation; to say something encouraging or soothing.

Finally it was noted that Saeryn and Thornden were having a quiet counsel together and soon Thornden arose and called for attention.

"Friends, this is a dark day for all of us, and I know all our hearts are going with lord Eodwine right now." His voice trembled and he paused and bent his head for a moment to regain control of his emotions. He looked up again, and his eyes were clear and his face hardened. "But we have an important day ahead of us, and he would have insisted that we do our best to accomplish all that must be done."

Thornden let his gaze wander around the hall looking at every person.

“I do not know what you know or what kind of stories you have been told, but lady Saeryn and I have discussed this with lord Eodwine. We know what to except and what to do. The lords coming will not be pleased with what we have to tell them and we must be ready to face adversity. Let us try to make this hall look as great and grand as we can. Let us give them a brave face. Lord Eodwine counts on us today to succeed in carrying out his and the king's wishes. Let's show we are worthy of his trust, so that he can look on us with pride when he returns!"

It was not just one or two minds that changed the “when” into “if” while hearing the end of the encouragement-speech, but they all cheered and nodded to the general effort Thornden had made. Not that the cheers were too convincing. But they all knew none could have done more in that situation.

The slowed-down breakfast turned quickly into a busy morning. Everyone tried their best to get the places looking as fitting to a king’s hall as they could. Stigend even decided to bring down the two shortish flagpoles they had hoisted to the wall around the front door of the Mead Hall itself and started carving them hoping to make them look like decorated ones – and thus more worthy - before the landlords would come.


~*~


”Look!”

”What?”

”Over there! Coming from behind the corner!”

“Wow!”

“Ooops!”

“That’s an…”

“…army!” Garmund finished the sentence left by Cnebba.

“We’ll have to warn them!” He cried and ran back towards the Mead Hall.

“Wait, wait for us!” Cnebba yelled from behind him not sure whether the flashing of the weapons and banners in the bright October sun was more awesome than him joining the warning-party.

“C’mon Cnebba! Run!” Javan shouted at him and brought him back to reality. “We must go!” He grabbed Cnebba by the hand and yanked him up. “Run!”

Cnebba had time to glance backwards before he ran. The banners were flying from the speed and they made sharp snapping sounds that were so loud he couldn’t realise how they did that. The tips of the spears were bathing in sunlight glimmering in competition with the helmets and armour the oncomers wore. And all this with the background of red and yellow leaves in the trees and the cold autumn breeze. It looked fascinating.

And there were many… far more Cnebba could have imagined when they had decided to go to the edge of the woods to see them coming from the road. And they came with fair speed towards them. The thunder of the hooves startled Cnebba. He knew how a horse or two sounded when they galloped but this was something different, it was like a thunder coming towards them. He ran through the ground filled with piles of dropped colourful leaves…


~*~

The tumult had been heard around the Mead Hall as well when first Garmund and then Javan and Cnebba came rushing in.

“They’re coming!” Garmund yelled.

“It’s an army!” Javan added panting.

“Fly!” Cnebba screamed coming a little after the two others.

Stigend and Garstan stepped forwards to grab their sons and even Thornden made a move towards Javan but then draw back from it.

“No one is attacking us. Do not be afraid, Javan. They just want to show their might,” Thornden said, speaking loud enough for the others to hear it too – and hoping he could fully believe his own words. “This is the king’s hall and they wouldn’t dare attack us,” he added.

But he instinctively looked around the entourage he had around him to make a quick calculation. After Lithor, Wilcred and Balvir had gone to see lord Eodwine to Edoras they were even less a force to fight against the landlords and their men if it came to that. Raedwald was the most experienced soldier around, Osmund and Aethelstan were good lads… and there was Matrim. But after that? Just a few young soldiers Thornden had never thought of too highly – keeping with their own company and playing their own games.

He knew Crabannan was a warrior and Erbrand, Dan, Harreld, Stigend and Garstan would prove hard fighters if it came to it… but still. They were real soldiers, riders of Rohan, they were facing here.

~*~

Suddenly the first riders rushed into the yard from the road and the others - so many of them - followed. The sound was almost deafening and terrifying to those who had not heard of an approaching cavalry from that short of a distance - and it did send a shiver of recollection to those few who had.

They organised themselves in lines in front of the people of the Mead Hall standing in front and around the main doors of the hall itself. Counting quickly Stigend got 32 men on horseback in front of them, all armed and seemingly battle-ready. Some show of might indeed, he murmured to himself but couldn’t deny being impressed about the entry. These guys are not just fooling around…

Three men emerged from the middle of the frontline. They were clad in precious garments and their helmets shone with gold and silver, their armour and shields were real pieces of art. And they had the commanding stature of lords with them no one could deny.

“So what is this?” The oldest one of them in the middle bellowed without caring to dismount himself. “Where is Eodwine? And who are you? What is this rag-tag gathering here?” He scorned and then glanced at the other two smiling.

“Where have you hid master Eodwine? I can’t see him while I should know him…” Tancred continued and made a show looking like he was searching for Eodwine from the crowd. “I used to teach him to lead troops back in times… now where are you Eodwine?”. Faramund on his right couldn’t quite keep his amusement from plain sight and chuckled in half-tone.

Alboin on the left had stayed silent and grim but opened his mouth now. “We were summoned here by the authority of the king himself, through lord Eodwine and the Mead Hall. As I can’t see no more of lord Eodwine or any Mead Hall here I say we waste our time here.” Turning his horse sideways he addressed Tancred. “We’ve nothing to do here. It must have been a hoax…”

But Tancred waved his hand to Alboin. “Let’s hear what this scum has to say…”

“Maybe they have rebelled and killed lord Eodwine? And are trying to fool us into paying taxes to them? Good we have the men with us… we could reveal this plot… we would have acted in good faith bringing this little rebellion down?” Faramund added taking a grab of his sword.

Tancred moved quickly around. “Cut it Faramund! Let’s hear what they have to say.”

With that he turned towards Thornden and Saeryn who stood in the middle, in front of the door. “So what is all this? How do you explain lord Eodwine is not here and who are you? And what is this tom-foolery? We have no time for this kind of parties.”

The three lords faced them less than ten yards away all mounted high on their horses and looking sternly down at them. The around thirty horsemen behind the three clutched to their spears.

[Groin Redbeard]

The soldiers holding shimmering spears glared at the settlers standing around. Erbrand met the stare of one and got the most unsettling smile he had ever seen. They seemed destined to kill. If they were any reflection on the lords that commanded them, lady Saeryn and Thornden were in for a rough counsel. Erbrand stepped to one side of the doorway closer to Kara. She looked up at him and Erbrand smiled, reached down and grasped one of her hands. He tried not to show it, but he was nervous about the arrival of so many soldiers for a simple counsel. Would they try to proclaim one of themselves as the lord of Scarburg?

The nobles dismounted. Erbrand could only hear mumbling, but from the countenance that they bore, it was not flattering talk they were using to describe lady Saeryn. Indeed, one of the nobles approached her and spoke to her as if she were the daughter of a hobnail. Couldn’t the varlet see the nobility in her? If Erbrand were of higher class in the world, even a soldier, he would have spoken. He growled with frustration at not being able to reprimand the noble for his insult.

“Speak up Thornden,” Erbrand mumbled under his breath. “Show your authority! Don’t let the lady stand alone!”

[Folwren]

Saeryn looked up at the three men who called themselves nobles. She surveyed them slowly, not caring if they noticed her eye travel down and up their entire lengths, one by one. She barely kept the disgust from rising to a visible expression on her face. Finally, she stood forward.

“I am Lady Saeryn, Lady of the Hall of Scarburg, wife to Lord Eodwine, Lord of the Middle Emnet. Lord Eodwine has been taken very ill and we sent him to Edoras yesterday to get help, but I know what must be accomplished in today’s proceedings, so his absence will not cause your time to be wasted.” She allowed the final word to linger momentarily in the air. Her hard, grey eyes met with the foremost, belligerent man. “Will you come in?”

Thornden couldn’t keep himself from nodding slightly. Six months ago, before marriage with Eodwine, Saeryn would have become passionately angry with such treatment. He was convinced that she was no less furious now, but her words were those becoming a noblewoman – steady, polite, stern, and rightfully proud.

The men looked at her, and their expressions were as though they had eaten sour grapes. They did not like being reprimanded, however round about, by a woman. Saeryn’s chin tilted just a hair upward.

They dismounted and one approached her, walking close and looking down. Saeryn did not give an inch.

“We will not banter with a woman concerning our lands and our money,” he said.

“That is well. I will not banter with you. Lord Eodwine’s steward will speak with you.” She turned and nodded her head towards Thornden. “He will stand in Lord Eodwine’s place, and you will be introduced to the King’s will and come to understand how things are. Come in.” She turned and swept by him, her head still held erect. Thornden stepped to the side and let her pass. He stood and waited for all three of the landlords to go in, looking each in the eye as they passed him.

[Thinlómien]

Saeryn and Thornden, accompanied by Raedwald and Matrim, took the three visitng lords and their few closest men in. Modtryth grabbed Cnebba and Garmund by shoulders. "You two, stay out of sight. This is the last time we want any trouble. Understood?" The boys glanced at each other, and nodded. Then they ran to one of the trees in the edge of the hall grounds and Modtryth could hear Cnebba shouting: "Follow me up if you can, orc, but you can't catch a pookeyman!" She smiled and turned to Frodides who was going to the kitchens.

"Do you need help?" she asked.
"Kara will serve the ale to the guests and she could use another pair of strong young arms to do that."
Modtryth pursed her mouth and Frodides looked at her face for a while with her keen stare. Then she shook her head just a little.
"Go find Ginna then," she said briskly. Modtryth nodded and slipped into the hall where she had seen Ginna disappear.

She found Ginna quickly, standing in a corner where she could wait for any orders from Saeryn or Thornden.
"Frodides asks you to go and help Kara with serving the ale," she whispered.
"Why couldn't..." she started, but Modtryth silenced her with a sharp glance.
"Not now. Just go." The girl nodded and hurried away, still looking a bit quizzical.

Modtryth sighed as she took her place in the corner, ready if the lady or the steward would need anything else. It was vital their household would present itself as efficiently working and faultless. Modtryth winced. Half-Dunlending servants didn't quite fit that picture. She also knew Saeryn would've been furious to hear her think so, but she was young and naive - just like Ginna there - Modtryth thought fondly.

She took a few steps so that she was standing in the shadows of the corner of the hall, only hazily visible from the lights surrounding the table. When Ginna would resume her place beside her, she would hardly be seen but the light would just reach the side of Ginna's pretty Eorling face.

Modtryth waited for the guests and the hosts to settle to their places. She frowned. She had a bad feeling about this.

~*~

"Garmund you were a lousy orc," Cnebba complained, tearing a twig off the tree and throwing to the ground.
"I didn't want to be an orc!" Garmund protested angrily.
Cnebba didn't have anything to argue against that fact. He sat up in the tree for a while, but then clibed down a few branches and jumped to the ground. "Let's do something more interesting," he said.
Garmund looked at him suspiciously. "Like what?"
"Have a look at the guests?"
"We were supposed to stay out of sight."
"They have probably already seen us," Cnebba objected, pointing at the majority of the accompanying soldiers standing on the yard with their horses.
"They have cool swords and armours," Garmund observed.
"Let's go and have a look at them!"
"But..."
"If we sneak, we'll be out of sight!"

[Groin Redbeard]

After the Saeryn, Thornden, and nobles went inside Matrim and Raedwald closed the doors to the Hall. The horsemen looked at one another, muttering. Erbrand still held Kara’s hand. She did not look frightened, but Erbrand did not look frightened either even though he was sick to his stomach with fear. It suddenly occurred to Erbrand that all this standing around was making the members of Scarburg look very foolish and inhospitable.

“Kara, go find Leof. Our guests and their horses have ridden long today and both will need water.”

She offered a faint smile, perhaps hesitant to leave his side, though more likely hesitant to walk through the line of soldiers to get to the stables. Nevertheless, Kara went, rather swiftly, through the soldiers. Several of them dismounted and stared after her, Erbrand could hear their scattered, unflattering, laughter; he felt like he needed to divert their attention.

Erbrand walked briskly down the steps and approached the riders. “Hey there.” He cried to no one in particular. Most of the riders ignored him, but few turned.

“You’ve ridden far today I see.” No response.

“You are welcome to step down from your horses and rest.” Erbrand’s sentences were becoming increasingly awkward. However, a few riders took his advice and approached him. One soldier in particular, a tall muscular fellow with a long bushy beard, approached him; the soldier ungloved his hand and held it out.

“Grimhelm.” The soldier’s voice was low and dry, absolutely absent of emotion.

“Pardon?”

“My name is Grimhelm.”

“Oh! I’m Erbrand and on behalf of my Lord and Lady I welcome you to Scarburg.”

Despite Erbrand’s enthusiasm Grimhelm simply looked at the hall, taking in his surroundings.

“Where is your lord? I did not see him.”

“He has taken sick and gone to Edoras for treatment.” Grimhelm nodded his head and silently went to find a seat on the steps.

[Nogrod]

The three landlords stepped in to the half-built Mead Hall itself and sat down to the main table. Saeryn and Thornden sat on the opposite side of them. Matrim and Raedwald stood behind the two.

Ginna served them pints of ale and Modtryth brought forward some fresh bread, cheese and cured ham. Faramund noticed the features of Modtryth and made a slight grin only to smile heartily to Ginna who served him the ale.

After taking a long draught of the ale and wiping his beard clean Tancred looked like he was in a mood for business.

"So, Lady Saeryn," he began, glancing briefly at Thornden as if to hammer it home he would rather speak with a lady than a relatively young soldier. "I think you owe us an explanation of all this. We were invited by lord Eodwine to discuss about some issues concerning the governing of the Middle Emnet."

He paused and looked at both Saeryn and Thornden thoughtfully before continuing. "So what proceedings do you have in mind? I don't see that there are any proceedings at all between us and others than with the king, or with lord Eodwine."

Faramund had looked impatient after he had taken the whole pint with two long draughts. Suddenly he threw the empty jug right into the tray of bread Modtryth had served there. "Right! Off we are from this dunlending grotto!" He made a move as to rise up but Tancred turned towards him astonishingly quick and forced him down with his hand. "Hold your horses Faramund..." Tancred said slowly but with authority.

"No," Thornden said, suddenly. "No. If he is going to act like an untrained young man, he may leave the hall immediately." He stared at Faramund. "Sit down, and give respect to the lady of the hall."

Thus caught between Tancred, whom he respected, and Thornden, who, despite how much they may argue the fact, trully had authority at the eorl's hall, Faramund was forced to resume his seat, looking sullen and angry.

A short pause filled the room, then Saeryn began to answer Tancred and give an explaination of the situation to the lords while Thornden backed her up every now and then.

Alboin had studied the expressions of Saeryn and Thornden closely while sipping his beer. The little incident seemed not to have bothered him in the least and while the two spoke it seemed he looked them more than he listened. Finally, when Saeryn was done with her explanation of the situation Alboin laid his jug on the table in a relaxed fashion but letting it hit the table hard enough to catch everyone's attention.

"A landlord is the sole lord of his land given to him by a king... A king's fiefdom is a holy gift. A king may decide to found a Mead Hall to be a far-post of government wherever he wishes and to make any rulings concerning the running of that place or the governance of the surrounding lands. But without an eorl to run the Hall... or without any actual Hall, it is hard to persuade us - or any nobleman - to make any agreements. Were we to do that, we would betray the trust our king has laid upon us."

"How do we know you are not just a bunch of brigands and run-away soldiers who have killed lord Eodwine and try to make deals for your own purse?" Faramund yelled and stood up so violently even Tancred couldn't stop him.

Thornden stood as well, his blood heating with contempt for this fireheaded man who pretended to set himself up as noble. "You have insulted us enough, sir! This behavior is not acceptable, and you know it well. You will leave this place immediately."

"By heaven, I'd like to see you make me!" Faramund taunted in return, whipping his cape back and laying hand to the hilt of his sword. Thornden made no aggressive movement, but Raedwald and Matrim grasped their swords, too, standing tense and ready.

"Hold! Calm yourselves!" Tancred bellowed. He pushed the bench backwards but did not rise. His voice was authoritative indeed, and everyone froze as they were. It was clear why he had been a glorious captain of the Rohirrim in the war. His presence was commanding.

Three soldiers appeared on the main door with their swords revealed.

"Frappwaith! Get back outside! We'll call you if we need you," Alboin called the soldiers. They reluctantly backed out of the doorway.

Looking at Saeryn, Tancred said in a softer tone: "Please excuse the behaviour of my friend Faramund. He's still young, and there's no relying on young people in issues that require wisdom." He glanced at Thornden now so markedly that no one could have avoided to notice it. But Thornden stayed calm, despite the challenge - he knew he was right.

But Saeryn was herself insulted, and she admired Thornden. It hurt her to see him so degraded. She looked at Tancred. "His youth is no excuse, as my man here," nodded towards Thornden, "has not so behaved himself. Please ask Faramund to remove himself from my hall."

Faramund hissed a curse from between his clenched teeth. He glared at Saeryn before he drew himself up and stalked furiously from the hall. Only then did Thornden sit down. He and Saeryn turned again to Tancred.

Tancred had followed Faramund’s leave with open frustration and stared emptily to the doorway that had been left open by the young lord’s exit. Feeling the eyes fixed on him he finally turned to look at the hosts in front of him.

"Excuse us on his behalf… He’s young and feisty… Good characteristics for a soldier but not for a leader. He has to still learn a thing or two…” He sighed out aloud and took the last sip of his ale before continuing. It was actually humiliating to him to know he was in a clear disadvantage now as Faramund had finally spoiled their lordly countenance which would have been the way they could have showed these less lordly people their place. The two had just outnobled his companion… well a companion he had not chosen or whom he didn’t appreciate too much… He had respected Faramund’s father, Friduhelm, but the son was just a pain in… He sighed again, but pulled himself together then.

“Now, as my friend Alboin already said," he said, "without lord Eodwine and without a Mead Hall we have nothing to do here. We thank you for the ale and I invite you to visit my Hall with lord Eodwine as soon as he returns. I don't know if he has told you that, but I used to be his captain back in the war. He was a good lad... even if a bit soft." Tancred shook his head lightly like deep in his memories. "But for now I think we must go."

“But, sir," Thornden said, leaning forward quickly before either Alboin or Tancred rose. "Eodwine has left me in charge of his land and his eorldom during his absence. And that means that I have been given the authority of carrying out his lordly responsibility of levying the king’s taxes, and our own.”

“That’s what you say.” Alboin snapped back immediately. “And I think all this talk of levying taxes should wait for the eorl or the king to settle it. Surely you don’t think we would bargain it with you… How do we even know you’re a legitimate party here but for your word?”

“Please Alboin… sure this man looks like a man of his word.” Tancred studied Thornden’s steadfast gaze for Alboin before continuing. “But still we’re in no position to make deals with you. We owe our allegiance to the king and not you. You must see that. Would you surrender your duties to your king to a stranger with an odd following just claiming things? Wouldn’t you be afraid that your king would think you reckless indeed?”

“You know this is the right place, or you would not have come,” Thornden answered evenly.

“It’s not the place… it’s the authority of the eorl that calls for allegiance or any bargains.” Alboin countered. “And if Eodwine is indeed as ill as you make him out to be, then how do we know he is going to live… or this Mead Hall to ever function?” Alboin asked. His bright grey eyes looked from Thornden to Saeryn, measuring them up. A silence met him. Saeryn looked down and unconsciously laid her hand on her belly.

Tancred was quick to notice Saeryn’s reactions. Not showing his sudden relief he laid his hand on Alboin’s shoulder and addressed Saeryn and Thornden with an unexpectedly hearty smile. “Now, let us part in friendship… What comes to your requests of food, let’s say we send you a welcome-gift for you to make it the next month or so, and we hopefully return to these conversations with lord Eodwine when he returns?”

With that he nodded and took his leave with Alboin following him.

[Groin Redbeard]

The day was long and strenuous for the band. No waylayers to be seen, but the weather had been dismally wet all day. However, the roads had been solid enough to ride on and no complaint could be made about the rate of their progress. Their lord was wrapped in a multiple blankets to protect him from the cold and hides were stretched across the wagon to shield him from the rain. The great capital of Edoras was in sight now, the outline of the great Golden Hall just visible in the gently falling rain. The group was thrilled to see the city; it would mean the end of their journey and a quick healing for their lord.

Eodwine had been conscience for a few hours, but too weak to speak. Balvir noticed tears in his eyes after Lithor wondered outloud to Wilcred about the nobles and Saeryn. To say the least, it put all the group in a sorrowful mood. Lithor kept insisting that his lord’s tears were from lack of sleep rather than for Saeryn, but the group new it was false.

“Still,” Lithor continued in a hushed voice. “Sleep would be best for him. Come, let us sing a song to lower his eyelids and raise our spirits. What shall it be?” Æđel was the one who suggested the song. Wilcred suggested that they change several of the characters.

Now Eodwine has to Edoras gone,
With a link a down and a down,
And there he met the proud hangman,
Was walking along the town

“O hail, O hail, O hangman,” he said,
“O save and you may see!
And what will you give to a silly old man
Today will your assistant be?”

“Some suits, some suits,” the hangman he said,
“Some suits I’ll give to thee;
Some suits, some suits, and copper thirteen
Today’s a hangman’s fee.”

Then Eodwine he turns round about,
And jumps from stock to stone
“By the truth of my body,” the hangman he said
“That’s well jumpt, thou nimble old man.”

“I was ne’er a hangman in all my life.
Nor yet intends to trade;
But curst be the he,” said bold Eodwine
“That first was a hangman made!

“I’ve a bag for meal, and a bag for malt,
And a bag for barley and corn;
A bag for bread, and a bag for beef,
And a bag for my little small horn.

“I have a horn in my pocket,
I got it from a man with a hood,
And still when I set it to my mouth,
For thee it blows little good.”

“O blow thy horn, thou proud fellow,
Of thee I have no doubt;
I wish that thou give such a blast
till both thy eyes fall out

The first loud blast that he did blow,
He blew both loud and shrill;
A hundred and fifty of King Eomer’s men
Came riding over the hill

The next loud blast that he did give
He blew both loud and amain;
And quickly sixty of King Eomer’s men
Came shining over the plain”

The plan had worked: Eodwine was asleep, and a good thing too. The rain came down harder than before. The horses became frightened and the wagon became sluggish in the mud. Wilcred and Balvir both alighted from their horses, giving the reigns to Lithor, and helped push the wagon up the hill to the gates.

“Who goes there,” cried the watchman upon the parapets.

“Travelers from the Middle Emnet, bearing their lord to be healed, for he is sorely sick.”

Three guards opened the gate and helped the wagon inside. While guards examining Eodwine, Lithor told them of their journey and of whom the sick man was. The guards promptly escorted them to a house, where they said they would receive assistance from a healer. The occupants of the house were both husband and wife. The soldier’s gently raised Eodwine’s litter from the wagon and brought it within the house as fast as they could without getting their lord wet from the now torrential rain. It was a small house, certainly not large enough to hold all of them. However, upon Lithor’s request, the healer and his wife made accommodations for Æđel (it would not be proper to have her lodge with three bachelors).

"I am sorry for the inconvenience," the healer explained, "but it is just not possible to keep all of you here. My house is small and your lord must need rest, it is simply not possible if you stay here."

"Are there any inns open. Perhaps the White Horse."

"No, they will be closed on a night like this. However, there is someone who might be able to help you. Athanar is his name. He was once a soldier like yourself and I am sure that would offer assistance to the King's lord in whatever way possible. He has ties to the King, something that will be useful to you: the King will need to hear of your lord's illness."

The healer gave the two instructions to Athanar's house and after seeing to their lord’s comfort and seeing that he was in good hands, Lithor and Balvir left Æđel to rest and Wilcred to keep the first watch. Once again, the two plunge into the rain soaked streets.

[Folwren]

“Now, Thornden, they are gone sooner than even we had hoped. I must go now.” Saeryn’s voice sounded relieved, but also adamant. “Someone has to go to Edoras anyway, and tell the king what has passed. I am the best person for it.”

“Not to mention that you want to see Eodwine,” Thornden said.

“Well, of course. That goes without saying. You don’t mind now, do you?”

“You give the orders, lady,” Thornden said bowing.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Thornden,” Saeryn said, walking past him. “You give the orders now, until Eodwine and I return. I’ll leave within the hour, and then you’re in charge.”

“Are you riding alone?” he asked, turning to still face her. She paused in the doorway.

“Yes. We can’t spare anymore people from the hall. See that the work is continued on the building.”

She had her saddlebags packed and she was warmly cloaked and hooded in well under an hour. The people of the hall gathered to bid her farewell and she waved as she trotted out of the yard.

It was past dark as she neared the gates. She hoped they would let her in. The temperature was dropping swiftly and she and her horse were tired – they had been going hard all day. At the gates she was stopped, but with minimal explanation, they let her through almost immediately, and they told her where Eodwine could be found.

“Is he any better?” she asked Æđel as she came into the room where Eodwine slept. She pushed back the hood from her face and Æđel rose to greet her.

“No, he has not improved,” she replied, after kissing her.

Saeryn unfastened her cloak and Æđel took it from her. Then she went and sat by Eodwine’s side and took his hand in hers. “I will stay with him tonight, Æđel.”

[Groin Redbeard]

It was nighttime now. They had been traversing the streets for around thirty minutes. The rain had stopped five minutes after they had left the healer’s house so they were not wet, but they were tired and Balvir was getting irritable. Not really irritable—grumpy, I guess, but he was almost always like that, or so it seemed.

Rohan in the winter: the air is always a little darker. A darkness comes with winter that these southern people don’t know. Lithor looked at Balvir. Snow falls so much earlier and in the winter you can walk a snow field among bushes and visitors don’t know that the bushes are the tops of tall pines standing in ten feet of snow. Lithor wasn’t speaking about Edoras, or even Scarburg. His mind was back at his childhood home, farther north near the mountains.

Visitors, once long ago in the dead of winter, prophesying destruction for Rohan, scared the fool out of me. I resented it (even if it did almost come true) and pa said I was right. Pa… When Lithor thought of his old man he could see him suddenly in the middle of a field in the spring trying to move a grey boulder. Pa always knew instinctively the ones you could move, even though the greater part was buried in the earth and he expected you to move the rock and not discuss it. A hard and silent man—an honest man—a noble man. He had little humor, but sometimes the door would open and you could see the warmth within a long way off, a certain sadness. One of those slow, remote, unfathomable quality as if the man wanted to be closer to the world but did not know how. Once, Lithor had a speech memorized from a manuscript about a Eorlingas and gave it proudly, the old man listening but not looking. Lithor remembered it still: “What a piece of work is he! In action how like an angel.” Then his pa would grin and say stiffly: “Well boy, if he’s an angel he’s sure a murdering angel.” And there Lithor was, ironically: a member of Eorlingas. Those words of his pa stuck with Lithor; it was mainly why he tried to be so cheerful all the time. He’d never be one of those “killer angels” his pa described. Nevertheless, the old man was proud of his son serving Lord Eodwine.

Thornden picked me, me, out of all the household, including Thornden to bring Eodwine to the capital and present the case to the king. Why me? What did Thornden see? Is it even me at all? Is it my rank, is that why he picked me?

He turned his mind away from that. Think on it when the time comes. You think too much beforehand and you get too self-conscious and tight and you don’t function well. He knew that he was an instinctive man not a planner and he did best when he fell back on instinct. Think of music now and singing. Past the time with a bit of harmony and try and find that darned Athanar’s home.

Home. One place is just like another really. Maybe not. But the truth is it’s all just rock and dirt and people are roughly the same. I was born up there but I’m no stranger here. Have always felt at home everywhere, even in Gondor. Everywhere you go there is nothing but the same rock and dirt and houses and people and deer and birds. They give it all names, but I’m at home everywhere. Odd thing: unpatriotic I guess. I was at home in Scarburg. I would be at home in a desert. In Laketown or even that far off town that those little folks came from… Hobbiton! All mine, it is all my home.

“Finally!”
Balvir’s exasperated exclamation awakened Lithor from his daydreaming. There was the house that the healer had described to them: double floored and looking very lordly amongst the other houses. Lithor walked up to the door. He didn’t know whether to knock or shout to get Athanar’s attention, he sounded like he was an important man—Lithor rapped loudly. An irritated elderly man with a crooked nose poked his face out of the window.

“What you want? The house is asleep and the master is gone!”

After Lithor had explained their plight the old man’s features softened a little.

“Sure, I’ll let you stay for the night, my master would wish it,” the old man began to close the window, but then shot his head out again. “But! if there’s any funny business, I’ll slit both your throats in your sleep!”

“Pleasant man isn’t he,” Lithor mused after the old man shut the window.

“What’s to be done about Lord Eodwine?”

“Nothing can be done for him on our part as of tonight. We will see how he is fairing tomorrow and then ask for an audience with the King. Remember, our primary role was to bring Eodwine here. We cannot stay until he gets well.”

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

The news from Scarburg that reached Degas in the Folde was both vague and grim. Eodwine was ill, sent to Edoras. There, his condition worsened, and as a man both valued and trusted by the King, he was sent to Gondor, to the Houses of Healing, with hopes that the healers of King Elessar could work a magic that Rohirric healers could not. From Gondor no new information had come.

And while Degas knew that no news meant, in theory, that Eodwine yet lived, he also knew the realities of the situation of an absent lord. After the death of Fenrir, Degas's own home fief had gone to ruin with a vengeance, and even the knowledge that Degas was now the lord did not deter the inhabitants of town and country from living as though they lacked a leader. After all, without Degas there, a strong and visible beacon of the King's authority, the people of the Folde were sheep without a shepherd, and upon his return, they were less than enthusiastic about falling back into line.

Degas knew that with Eodwine gone from Scarburg, whether he lived or not, the authority of both Eodwine's house and of King Eomer himself would wane. Like children left unattended, or with an unpracticed guardian, the people of the Middle Emnet would rebel. They almost certainly would not rebel violently. Degas sincerely doubted an uprising like his own lands had seen. Such events only came from civil unrest, from cruel lords and negligence. Eodwine was no such lord, taxing unfairly, beating servants for mistakes, taking the hands of thieving hungry children as a warning to their friends.

The problem was that Eodwine was a new lord, one not born to the task, and now he was missing. While those under his command would have accepted his leadership, because Eodwine had an internal presence that commanded respect, his absence left his Emnet vulnerable.

No, the people would not break into war. It was no longer the days before the War. No longer did orcs maraud. No longer did Saruman's henchmen steal the horses of the Eorlingas. No longer did the Nine ride.

The Rohirrim would certainly not rebel against their king, particularly not Eomer, who was beloved, whose just rule was reminiscent to the very old as like his uncle's, when Theoden had been in his prime. Many remembered Theoden's power, his assertion, his bravery at the last stand against the Dark Lord. When they looked at their new king, they saw the blood of Theoden running strong in him, and while they sometimes questioned his judgment, it would take far more than a missing eorl to create an uprising.

But mischief? There would always be rumor-mongers and troublemakers in the world, and there would always be those looking for an opportunity to avoid responsibility.

Without Eodwine at Scarburg...

Yet Degas could not go immediately to the aid of his sister and her unborn child. Unlike the days before - so recent, he recalled - when he was unfettered, when he could have ridden to Gondor himself to see how Eodwine fared...

But times had changed rapidly. What was left of the harvest after the fields had burned needed to be gathered. Every day, Degas could be seen laboring in the fields with his people, speaking with them, working as hard as any of them. And as he poured his own sweat and blood into the land for the sake of his people, they remembered why they had been fond of him as a youth: he might have been a scapegrace adolescent, the men and women of the Folde thought, but he had always loved his home, and he had always been the sort of boy that cared about others. And now, they realized he had become a man in his absence.

Besides gathering early crops, the inhabitants of the Folde were hard put to plow fields again to plant enough fast growing vegetables to feed the people throughout autumn, and hopefully early winter, leaving the less perishable produce for later in the season, when food would be harder to come by. Degas, who had always loathed turnips, did not much look forward to the autumn.

Thankfully few animals had been lost in the uprising. The villagers, though riotous, had not lost their senses entirely, and had emptied Fenris's stables before burning them, and had herded the goats and the pigs and the sheep away before attacking. Though many chickens had died of smoke inhalation - the silly birds remained close, and few people noticed a chicken in the middle of a peasant uprising - most of the animals were still in excellent condition.

However new pens must be built to replace those which had been accidentally ruined, and to top it off, the end of breeding season was fast approaching, and Degas had been irritated to learn that Fenris had inexplicably halted the breeding of stock animals. Out of fear, his orders had been followed, but it meant that those animals which would have been consumed this winter could not all be slaughtered and eaten: many would need to be bred.

Thankfully neighboring villages had surplus stock in the form of both grains and animals, and so while it would be a lean winter, none of Degas's people would starve.

But to guarantee his people's safety and health, Degas was forced to work continuously. He rose before the sun to work in the fields. In the afternoons, he oversaw breeding of hoofstock. Several beloved mares would be in foal this winter. Spring would provide the Folde with fillies and colts to spoil and train.

And it was taking time to assemble a household of trusted individuals. Rowenna had adopted the position of woman of the household, tending to domestic matters, but she had told Degas point blank that it was a temporary arrangement that would last only until Lady Linduial arrived to take responsibility for herself.

Whenever Degas thought of Lin, he felt a clench in his gut, so he tried to keep busy. But all the while, he knew that she was in Edoras, and he was not. She was betrothed to him, yes, but would she still like him when he could finally make her his wife? Would so much time have passed that they no longer knew each other?

He buried himself in work and in diplomacy, winning over those hesitant to trust another man of the same family as Fenris. Degas had been gone for so many years they only remembered him as a fire-haired boy. All of his daylight hours were spent proving himself to them, and many of his night hours were spent in correspondence, securing for the Folde that which they could not provide for themselves, arranging wedding matters with Lin's family, and keeping up to date with the goings on of Scarburg.

Finally, after weeks of almost no sleep on the part of anyone in the Folde, a new hall was built, though it was rough, and new pens were constructed, and some homes that had been lost were replaced. The fields were tilled and sowed, the fall bounty was stored. While the husbands built and hunted for extra game, the wives preserved food and the daughters spun and wove. Just as nobody would starve, nobody would freeze.

Though they had risen against a bad ruler, so too did these people settle under the calm hand of a good one. Degas was a good lord, though he was young. They remembered his parents, and they saw how hard he worked.

And that he chose as his steward an older man that was very well-regarded by the people as wise, strong, and experienced said a great deal about Degas's pride: yes, he was proud as any young lord was, but he would not play fast and loose with the people. He surrounded himself with those who knew a great deal more than he did about any given thing, and when they spoke of what they knew, he listened. With that, his sensibility, and his proven willingness to work with the people for a common goal, he won them over.

And with that, though it was still a fragile bond, he was finally able to leave the Folde under the watchful eye of Sadon to travel to Scarburg.

Eodwine's home, he thought, must be feeling the loss of their lord.

His sister, in her womanly state, would need a strong man to advocate for her. He was no fool. He knew that those of Scarburg would tend to Saeryn. But he also remembered his oath to Eodwine as though it was branded into his heart. He swore to protect his sister in the event that Eodwine could not. He swore that he was from that day forth Eodwine's brother in all things.

And now his brother was ill, and was missing, and Thornden and Saeryn had had little luck with the visiting lords. Degas ignored for now the thought that soon he would need to see his own Eorl, to beg that the taxes he owed - Fenris had not paid them - be ignored for a little while.

But now... Now Degas had organized the Folde as much as he could. His people were healthy and were reasonably content. It was time to go to Scarburg.

Rowenna had approached him that morning, asking to join him, and he had accepted, confident she would not have left her own responsibilities without placing someone in charge. And, to his surprise, Degas had learned he trusted her judgment. While he did not particularly like her, he certainly respected the hard young woman. He would not mind her company on the ride, and he knew that those at Scarburg would enjoy her company as well.

Now, the two rode into Scarburg at a gentle trot. They had taken their time. No correspondence had shaken them to a rush; as far as they knew, it was as simple - or complex - as that Eodwine was still ill and gone, and the lords of the Middle Emnet had not taken his lordship well at all.

Today, Degas would see what had transpired since the last letter he received. Today he would learn the details that had not been trusted to post.

[Folwren]

Eodwine did not get better, and conference with the king did not end in satisfaction. Saeryn was torn between feelings of heartbreak and those of frustration and impatience.

“Your majesty,” she said in her last meeting with the king, “It is not necessary that a man and his whole household take the place of Eodwine. He will come back. And in his absence, I will be quite capable of keeping order in the hall!”

“Lady Saeryn,” King Eomer said, “I understand that you are willing to take his place until he returns, with the hope that he will return soon, but none of us know how long his recover will take.” He paused, and Saeryn knew that he almost added something about ‘if he will recover at all.’ She swallowed, but kept her gaze steady on the king’s face. “You. . .you are not in a position to rule in his stead, and Eodwine had no steward capable of taking his place.”

“Thornden is quite capable–”

“He is a young man, and the landlords will not respect him. Nor has Eodwine set him in the place of stewardship. These are the things which will matter when issues arise, as we have seen by what happened with the lords came to your holding earlier this month. No, Lady, I am convinced that I am right. I will choose a man and send him there as quickly as can be arranged.”

Saeryn swallowed her words and her disappointment. She bowed her head and curtseyed low before him. “I thank you, my lord,” she said, and withdrew.

When she came to the house of the healer, more news met her.

“Lady Saeryn, we can do no more for him here,” the Edoras healer said. Saeryn turned her eyes to Æđel.

Æđel gently tried to explain. “We are going to take him to Gondor. . .to Minas Tirith. We hope that. . .we hope that in the Houses of Healing they will be able to s. . .he will get well.”

Saeryn looked from one face to the other and then she stepped between them into the house. She went to Eodwine. She knelt beside him and took Eodwine’s hand. He was not awake. He rarely woke now, and when he did he was so weak he scarcely spoke and took only a little nourishment. Saeryn sat for a long time, holding his hand close to her face, and rocking back and forth in silence. Suddenly her tears sprang forth flowing down her face and over his hand.

“Eodwine! Eodwine! I don’t know what to do! Please come back. Please don’t leave me!” She clung tighter to his hand and hugged it close. “Please don’t go.”

“Saeryn. . .” his voice whispered. She looked up. Through her tears she saw him looking at her. She threw herself to her knees by his side and took his head in her hands.

“Eodwine! The king is going to give your eorlship to someone else! I don’t know–”

“Saeryn,” he said again, and she fell silent. His hand gently caressed her hair. “I love you.” She couldn’t speak. She saw he was slipping away again. She didn’t want to let go. He was looking at her still, but his hand was not moving anymore and his eyes were growing distant. She bent forward to kiss him. His lips responded to her touch and then he was still.

The healers came in. Saeryn stood up and withdrew. They prepared him for his journey and then he was gently lifted into a wain. As she had weeks before, Saeryn stood at the door and watched him be born away.

When he was out of sight, she turned back into the house to pack and prepare to ride back to Scarburg. She sent a message to Balvir and Lithor, telling them when she planned to depart. At the said time, they were there with their horses, fully prepared to go back with her, and together, the three of them rode silently out of Edoras and back towards their home.

[Groin Redbeard]

A hundred arms of the trees were gray and its million fingers silver. In a sky of dark green blue like slate, the stars were bleak and brilliant like splintered ice. All the area around the thickly wooded and sparsely tenanted marsh was stiff with a bitter and brilliant frost. It was a queer morning for anyone to go exploring along the Scar, but on the other hand, perhaps it was worth being explored in the bleak, frozen, early morning.

There was a part in the Scar that rose abruptly out of a broad circle of trees near the end of the marsh, covered in a hump or shoulder of green moss. In this freezing darkness of early winter, one would think that these rocks and trees would be left alone under nobody’s gaze but the ever watching stars. Nevertheless, in the stillness of the stiff air, if one listened carefully, a horse snorted and thumped along its way as one dim rider, dressed heavily for the weather, rode to the glade of trees. In that faint, fading, starlight, nothing could be detected of the man save the noise of the horse.

The rider slowly dismounted and tied the horse’s reigns to a branch. The hunter (for it was obvious that he was one) stealthily crawled upward on his belly across the freezing rocks out into the fading moonlight and the rising dawn, he was in the open and on a clear day he could see for miles. The hunter (not his usual profession, but his for the moment) would often come here in the morning or evening and sit for the better part of an hour, just sitting, waiting, and hoping for the site of some sort of quarry to hunt. The hunter tucked himself behind a boulder and began to scan the horizon and listen.

As you might have guessed, this hunter was none other than Erbrand the leather craftsman. It was the early hours of the morning (in fact it was still dark) and he was doing what he would usually do in the morning, but today there was a special purpose for him coming out here. A few days ago, patiently awaiting the arrival of some game, Erbrand spotted a peculiar footprint in the thawing earth just after sunrise. He knew it not to be his and it so puzzled him that he determined to come to the same spot every day, whether in the morning or evening until his curiosity had been satisfied. Many mornings had passed with nothing to report (not even a single animal to hunt) and today he sat thinking as he always did at this time of day.

The Lord Eodwine had departed early in the month. Sleep was uneasy for him as well as for most of Scarburg—work began early every day. Half of an hour crept past without sight or sound of anything; it gave him time to contemplate on the situation at the Hall. Lady Saeryn was certainly something, he chuckled to himself. She had always seemed gentle when Erbrand knew her as plain ol’ Saeryn, but now she was harder, or more experienced, but whatever it was she had changed. What a remarkable month with the nobles coming and all! Erbrand clenched his fist at the thought of the meeting. He certainly would have liked to have shown them a thing or two about respect, but he was just mere peasantry himself. Trying to show his superiors anything outside of his profession would also have been disrespect, what a fool he would look then! If Lithor were here he would have a thing or two to say, but Lithor had left, he was all alone; well, not entirely. Kara had been exceptionally moody this morning, not at him (Erbrand was careful to stay out of trouble when possible) but in general. Erbrand blamed it on the sudden departure of Lady Saeryn to Edoras. Speaking of departure, it must be near six o’clock and no quarry to speak of—time to head back to the hall and get some work done.

Erbrand slid back down the rocks with nimble care and walked back through the trees to Traveler. Walking beneath the half frozen leaves in the darkness Erbrand heard a rustling. It was similar to the sound of a surprised deer, the way they jump and shift their position a little; Erbrand instinctively dropped to one knee and put a hand inside his quiver, but checked himself: two audible footsteps and then silence. The craftsman’s heart started to race—someone, not something, was there and did not want to be seen. Again out of instinct, Erbrand slid behind a thick ash tree and listened. There was a loud thumping: Traveler digging the grass, impatient to return to a warm stable. Erbrand closed his eyes and strained his ears once again—footsteps to his right. As quietly as possible, he unfastened his quiver, leaned his bow against the tree, and stealthily took off in the direction of the noise. The trees were close together so that Erbrand could see nothing of the stalker, the darkness making each tree look like a frozen phantom. Whoever is here is not trying to run for it! Is he after me? Possibly my horse…

Suddenly, Erbrand felt his legs hit something hard; down he fell on the cold earth. Dirt was smudged on his face as he tried to get up, but a heavy blow on his back brought him face down again. Fight the pain. Don’t let him strike you again! Erbrand rolled face up and saw a man standing over him with a staff raised to strike another blow. Quicker than thought, the craftsman rolled out of the man’s aim and brought himself to his knees. Erbrand gasped for air (the wind had been knocked out of him from his fall and first blow) but he had enough wit to reach into his belt and draw what weapon he had. The moonlight flashed on the cold steel of a very broad hunting knife and the stranger checked his rush. Erbrand held the knife by the blade, ready to throw it, he had done it often enough. The stranger’s eyes lit up with fear for a moment, but soon regained their focus and the two slowly began to circle one another

From what Erbrand could tell in the dark, the stranger was much younger than he was; the man didn’t look much older than eighteen. He was remarkably tall, a full head taller than Erbrand (but it could have been the darkness that made him look large). He was dressed in hazelnut colored clothes and grew his blonde hair long over his shoulders. Erbrand sized the young man up, flipped the knife over in his hand, and rushed at him.

“Back off!” The young man barked as he swung and scored another blow in Erbrand’s side. He leaned over and coughed, it felt as if his ribs had cracked. Erbrand heard the man coming at him and blindly made two swift strokes, notching the man’s staff on the second swing. Finally, they were close enough to grapple each other. The young man howled with pain as the hunter’s fist went to work. With the knife in one hand, Erbrand had hand free to beat heavy blows on the boy, but the boy was busy trying to keep the knife from plunging downward, holding the staff with both his hands. Erbrand kicked hard and withdrew. The stranger drew back leaning on his staff, his face cut and bleeding slightly—he looked beaten. They stood staring at each other for a long time not saying anything, breathing hard.

“Are you alright?” Erbrand asked still breathless. The man did not answer.

“You’ve been watching Scarburg for a long time haven’t you? You are the one who I encountered nearly three months ago in the marsh, remember?” The stranger looked up, still leaning on his staff—an invisible face in the dark.

“Are you alone?” Erbrand walked closer seeing the man lean heavily on his staff. “Come, I can help you back at the Hall. My lady will have questions…”

Instead of a gentle compliance with his wishes, Erbrand felt the end of the staff strike his head. There was a loud crack! Blood filled Erbrand’s mouth as he hit the ground in a dizzying spin. The pain throbbed through his head. He rolled over, hands empty, his eyes closed in expectation of another blow…but the blow never came. Instead when Erbrand opened his eyes there was nobody standing over him or anywhere for that matter. His knife was lying untouched a few feet away along with the boy’s now broken staff. Thank my lucky stars! He looked at the broken staff and felt his head. Good, no bleeding, and nothing is broken. My head is going to be the size of a watermelon by noontime. Ow!b Erbrand didn't feel like getting up, but he did, slowly, his sides aching from the bruises. He leaned down to pick up his knife, swore, and keeled over in pain.

“Confound that boy!” Erbrand raised himself up again and felt his head swim. The sun became fuller and it occurred to Erbrand that he better get back to the Hall. The air was stinging his face with the cold and he was shivering. Erbrand stumbled from tree to tree until he reached Traveler. Mounting his steed, a new surge of pain rocked his frame and he sunk yet again.

“Come on old boy,” he said wincing, “take me home.”

Each step bounced Erbrand, he was in constant pain. His head did not hurt as much anymore, he felt it again. The staff must have cracked in the spot where he had notched it. However, it still felt like one of his ribs was broken. The camp was now visible. Erbrand squinted through the pain and saw someone was coming towards him. One of the children? No. Dan! He hailed him and dismounted slowly.

"I'm glad to see you of all people," Erbrand said slowly, leaning in pain.

[Nogrod]

A messenger from Edoras had broke the news a week ago. A new eorl, lord Athanar son of Hereweald, from a distinguished Rohir family, had been appointed by king Eomer. He and his entourage would come and take over the Mead Hall in a week. All the people on the Mead Hall would be held on as old employees and all the guests would be invited to stay as with lord Eodwine. And the king would send them some gifts to pave their way through the hard times they might meet in the future. The messenger didn't mention the landlords but everyone realised the meaning of the gifts: if there were troubles they wouldn't starve to death the first thing...

"Praised be king Eomer..." was the sentence on everyone's lips even if they were quite worried about what kind of a lord they were to have. Too many of them knew of the corrupted lords of Edoras; the lazy old aristocrats who were more interested in their personal luxury than the well-being of their subjects.

Today they would find it out. Or at least get a grip of what would come...


~~***~~


Captain Coenred rode in front of the convoy with Wulfric and Wilheard. They all wore shining armour and full weaponry. But it was clear they came in peace riding slowly, their backs straight and their posture upright and formal. Behind them came two soldiers flying banners: one flag had the familiar white horse on green but the other one had a white eagle on yellow with crossed staves in the background and two spears right beside them. That was Athanar’s flag, the flag of his family. Everyone in Rohan recognised the white eagle on yellow as the emblem of Aldor’s house. The staves and the two spears were the identification of Athanar’s lineage in relation to the main line.

Following the banners there was Athanar on his beautiful white mare and right behind him his wife Wynflaed and young Aedre on their own horses.

Then there were two more soldiers in their bright coats of mail followed by a wagon of Athanar’s family-items driven by an old and grumpy looking man. By his side there was Lilige, Wynflaed’s maid.

After the first wagon, there were two… three… four… five wagons with drivers and almost two dozen riders to escort the retinue.

~*~

Stigend was looking at the oncoming party with amazement. Like the landlords coming about a month ago these people wore shining armours, bright colours and they looked like coming from a totally different world: a world of wealth, a world of clean clothes, a world of civilisation… Spending their days in the wilderness just working round hours had made the people of Scarburg Hall look dirty and rugged even if they had washed themselves thoroughly to meet their new lord and had put their best clothes on. Stigend glanced backward to find the beaten figure of Erbrand from somewhere among the people waiting. He smiled to himself with the thought of Erbrand trying to look prominent with those bruises and why he reasonably stayed behind.

To his own amazement he kind of understood the scorn of the landlords. The Scarburgians sure looked like workers, like of the class less than the ones with shiny armours… what had that young lord said, "rag-tag"? Even if it was not true in any moral sense of the word, he could see how someone could think like that...

But he did also notice the shine and excitement in the eyes of Cnebba and Garmund standing by his side. He glanced at Garstan over the lads only to confirm he had also noticed the enthusiasm in their young faces. Garstan shrugged and Stigend shook his head as an affirmative answer.

~*~

The party halted to the frontyard and Athanar came forwards from behind Coenred and the flag-carriers.

“Good day to you!” he called from his saddle eyeing the general public around him but soon found Saeryn and Thornden standing in the middle of the crowd a bit forwards from the irregular half-circle the people of the Mead Hall had formed around the two. There was a young red-haired man behind them as differently positioned like the two - and clad in noble robes - but he had no idea on who he was. It can wait… let’s get this over and done with first.

“You must be lady Saeryn?” Looking at Saeryn straight to the eyes he bowed his head deep and kept it down for a good while before raising it again. “My condolences to you milady. I don’t know if you have the latest news but it seems lord Eodwine has not gotten any better in Minast Tirith as far as we know of things a week back from now.”

The people didn’t look surprised for the latest news but Athanar could sense the grievance his words had produced. He let the silence take the yard and waited for a while before continuing.

“I’m Athanar, son of Hereweald, appointed by king Eomer to be the new eorl of Scarburg Mead Hall.” He looked around to see that his words had the desired effect… or if there was any dissatisfaction or other grievances.

“I didn’t know lord Eodwine personally but I have heard about him and know that he was… that he is… a good man”, he corrected. “But king Eomer has seen that the future of this Mead Hall requires full and acting eorlship right now. I have been briefed about your troubles – our troubles – with the local landlords by the king himself and we’ll settle those matters as a first thing. Let me assure you people; the king’s will shall prevail on these quarters of the land as well.”

There was a silence which was broken by lady Saeryn asking for lord Athanar and those he felt should follow him to come inside the Hall.

“Aye lady.” Athanar answered with a nod but then straightenend his back to glance around him – to the people in front of him and to the people of his entourage behind him. “We’ll have time for introductions later today with a modest arrival-banquet… we’ve brought quite a stock of things with us as gifts from king Eomer.”

There were scattered cheers from the people of the Mead Hall and from the convoy. “And we’ll have a lots of beer and wine to go with it this evening…” He continued receiving quite an outstanding support of “ayes“ and “yeses” from both sides.

He silenced the men behind him with a sudden movement of his hand, the Scarburgians saw the effect his hand had on his disciples and went quiet as well.

“Good.” lord Athanar said looking around him quite pleased. “Let me give you my first orders as we have things to do before any banqueting-time.” He looked now straight to Thornden. “You must be Thornden then? Your qualities have been praised to me in Edoras. I’m looking forwards to working with you…” Thornden nodded cordially as to accept the formal words of good-will.

“Appoint your stable-master to see after out horses. Hilderinc here will be on charge of that on our side” he waved to the bearer of his own eagle-banner behind him. “Fourteen of them will head back tomorrow as they are from Edoras’ town guard only to escort us and our convoy here, so you might wish to arrange things accordingly.” He made a short pause but did raise his eyebrows seeing Thornden waving at Leof… but he didn’t say anything.

“Then the other carriages… The first one has the belongings of my family and they should be unloaded into our personal quarters. Lilige here, the maid of my fair wife Wynflaed, will advise your men with them.” He nodded towards Lilige sitting on the first cart.

“On the next two wagons there are food supplies that should be delivered to the kitchens and your craftsmen should be interested in the two last wagons. They should all be unloaded immediately so that we can get the men and the beasts to rest.” He turned back to Thornden. “Who’s the main cook?”

“She’s Frodides, here.” Thornden waved towards Frodides who nodded proudly but minimally.

“Let’s see a welcome feast for tonight then Frodides. But for us all… work first.” He hesitated a moment but then added: “A pint of beer to everyone as soon as the horses are taken care of and the carts are unloaded.” With that he unmounted while nodding to Wynflaed to follow him as he got down. “Coenred, Wulfric, Wilheard… follow us…” Glancing upwards to his daughter he said in a more soft tone: “Aedre darling… go with uncle Fulcher.” He gave a hearty smile to his youngest child and to the old man on the cart. “Hilderinc! After you get it with the horses see things done out here! And some decent lodgings for the men…”

“Aye lord! Done!” The man with the family-banner yelled back.

Athanar glanced at Coenred as to ask with his eyes whether Coen would need to stay behind and check Hilderinc was up to the organising task. He was new to his household anyway. But Coenred shook his head and then nodded smiling. Athanar replied with a nod and walked towards the main doors of the Mead Hall.

Coming closer to the two he addressed them shortly.. “lady Saeryn... Thornden. We have a lot to talk… This way, I presume?”

Saeryn nodded to lord Athanar and glanced at Thornden and Degas.


~*~

They went inside the Mead Hall that had gotten quite a facelift since the landlords visited. It was almost completed and looked quite impressive – even if still a bit under construction. The smell of fresh wood and newly hacked stone betrayed the novelty of the place. But lord Athanar nodded approvingly after studying the place for a moment on the doorway before walking straight to the eorl’s chair at the end of the Hall and setting himself into it.

There was a long table in front of the eorl’s chair and the others sat themselves around it. Coenred, Wynflaed, Wulfric and Wilheard on the other side; Saeryn and Degas on the other.

Ginna and Modtryth served them a round of ale and went back to aid in the kitchen.

They had tasted the ale in silence when Thornden finally rushed in after dealing out orders and organising the work outside. He sat at the side of Saeryn and Degas.

Lord Athanar looked at all the people around the table and took a sip from his pint before opening his mouth to start things in earnest.

“So my friends, we need turn this into a real Mead Hall. I need to know all you can tell me about these landlords and on the advancement of the building efforts; of the staff you have here and of any problems or shortages we might have. But first you should meet my wife Wynflaed, my sons Wulfric and Wilheard and my precious right hand man Coenred.” The people nodded to each other over the table while lord Athanar mentioned the names.

Lord Athanar turned to look at the Mead Hall people after taking another sip of the ale. “I think I know you are lady Saeryn and you are Thornden, lord Eodwine’s second in command. I’m pleased to meet you… But who might you be then?” lord Athanar addressed Degas looking at him with curiosity. “I was not told in Edoras there was a third caretaker of the Mead Hall while lord Eodwine was away.”

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Lord Athanar, I am Degas," he responded, leaning forward. "I am brother of the Lady and a lord of the Folde, a close ally, friend, and neighbor to Elfhelm of Aldburg, who took lordship of it once designated Marshall of the East-mark in the place of King Eomer.

"The reason you were unaware of my position at Scarburg is because I am no lord of the Middle Emnet, and I am not a caretaker of its lands. I am sworn to Elfhelm, who is my own Eorl, and to the King, but the expanse of lands trusted to Eodwine to govern hold little interest for me except as part of our kingdom.

"I am, however, the sworn brother of Lord Eodwine who vowed to come to the aid of his family and his people in the event of his sickness or demise, and to fight for those same people as though they were of my own flesh, bound to me as I was to them." Degas said this neutrally, almost as though it was a mere trifle of a matter. He briefly considered inspecting his fingernails to reaffirm his adopted nonchalance, however chose to meet Athanar's eyes instead. "While the King may have deigned you to be Eorl in my brother's absence, and the seat of the eorldom lies here at Scarburg, Eodwine remains the Lord of these lands upon which you sit, and regardless of Eodwine's current health, the heir to these lands sits here and now at this table.

"Or," he smiled, inviting the others, who had tensed, to see his calmness, "perhaps I should say that the heir sleeps here and now, spending his time growing and becoming strong. As I said, I am not a caretaker of this Emnet you now lead. I am, however, a staunch caretaker of those who rightfully rule this particular land, and while you may sit rightfully in the chair of the Eorl, the seat of the Lord of Scarburg does not belong to you."

Degas sat back, and he waited. While at times it was prudent to say little and listen much, at other times it was best to speak with forthrightness. He sensed that Athanar was the type of man that approved of blunt honesty. Well, Degas could not really have been more blunt unless he had said that if Saeryn and her unborn child were not treated with proper respect as the lady and heir of these lands, the people of Athanar would quickly meet the people of Degas, and it would not be for a shared meal.

Degas watched as Athanar formulated an answer, and wondered whether he had drawn the man's wrath or respect with his choice of discussion.

[Nogrod]

Athanar was taken aback by the bluntness of the young man... but if it was just that, he would have easily handled the arrogant youngster. But what Degas said made him think one... no two times... He had to gather things about loyalties and old deals between caretakers, eorls, lords and kings to be sure he was not putting himself into jeopardy. He was too experienced to fall into any traps he was sure the youngster was trying to lay on him - even if he was not too certain what the exact trap was... or if there was one in the first place. At the moment he saw no flaw in his position but the firmness of the youngster forced him to think twice. What was he aiming at? Or was it just that he was too much immersed with the plotting of Edoras aristocracy and thus thought everyone everywhere was like that?

But he would have to think about it with more time and take care of the moment.

He made a stern look at Degas and then spoke with an intentionally slow pace staring at Degas.

"Do you think, Degas, neighbour and vassal of eorl Elfhelm of Aldburg, that your position is one to contest the will of the king concerning who should be the eorl of Mid-Emnet?" He took his time to study the face of Degas as to see what he was for a man. And just as he saw Degas was about to protest he continued.

"But anyway... I shall forgive you your thoughtlessness for the time being." with the way he spelled the words for the time being he made it clear he was meaning it would be short-lived indeed.

"I can understand these are hard times to you and your sister - and I can sympathise with your anguish. But concerning the kingdom of Rohan, it needs more a running Mead Hall in Mid-Emnet than appeasing some personal grievances over any sworn friendships and vain pride."

Athanar let the words hammer down on Degas before he made his final remark - this time turning more to lady Saeryn and Thornden. "I have no doubt this Degas is a brave and good young man, but unless he grows a bit more mature from what he is right now - not meddling his personal insecurities, bad conscience or self-blames into the discussions on ruling this Mead Hall - I'd suggest you'd ask for him to leave from this discussion. We have the landlords to bargain with and the king's Hall to settle into these quarters lord Eodwine never managed to do. And the king awaits results. We'll have to get this Hall running... and we're not getting any results by making these petty arguments that have more to do with individual suffering... as bad it might feel to an individual who feels bad."

He smiled dryly while turning to Degas: "It means adulthood young master Degas; to be able to see over one's personal grievances, and it means that first step of lordship; to be able to differentiate between your own feelings and what is good for the larger community."

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"And if you think this is about feelings, whatever they may be," Degas returned calmly, "then I do indeed question our King's judgment."

As Athanar's sons made to rise angrily, Degas stood, adding, "Nevertheless, I shall depart, as the running of an emnet is neither my responsibility nor my interest, nor is running this household. My lady sister shall doubtless inform me if she requires my aid. I simply bid you to remember that the good people of the Riddermark will not respond fondly to a man that would confiscate the rightful inheritance of an unborn child for his own political gain. Bear in mind at all times what my lady sister signifies and deserves, and treat her with the respect of her position, and we need not quarrel. After all, I have no quarrel with you. Not for the time being, at any rate."

And with that, Degas left the mead hall, thinking perhaps to go for a quiet ride to cool his temper. While he had by no means lost control over himself, he knew that he was not as his most serene.

Yes, he would head to the stables and find his beloved Gleowyn and take her for a run. Perhaps one of the boys might want to race, if their parents had no chores in mind for them...

As he entered the stables, he paused, hearing an unfamiliar voice. It was not Leof, whose voice he knew, but it was the voice of a child. Which, he could not be sure, since the only child he knew here was Leodhern, and she would not be in the stables at his hour.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc remained in the saddle. Patting his chestnut horse - a good, strong stallion he got back in Edoras for the journey here - he carefully looked around for any sign of somebody who might look like a local stablemaster. He was not willing to dismount for two, no, three reasons: First, from the horseback, he could easily oversee the mess in the courtyard. Quite many people, he thought, many people for such a small place. Though remembering his journey, especially the last part of it, Hilderinc was thinking that any number of people could be considered surprising for such a place. He had seen other settlements as remote as this, or even more so, but he could not think of a place so pitiful, yet hosting such a noble lord as Athanar was. Well, save one. Briefly, he wondered what the previous eorl must have been like. But only briefly. It was not a matter to wonder about anyway.

The soldier's second reason to stay in the saddle was simply to keep the profile. His lord's flag folded, but still held in his hand, he considered it appropriate, as far as he could read Athanar's attitude, to stay "on top of things", to make the proper impression on the inhabitants of Scarburg. Personally, Hilderinc did not care, but during years serving different masters he has learned to correspond to their behavior. Even though every single one of them wanted you to fulfil your duties and obey his orders, each master also expected something different from you - something else that you had to discover yourself. It was a matter of, some would say, empathy. Hilderinc would say: it is a matter of making an observation and of applying it.

The third reason for remaining on horseback was indeed simply practical. He was the one appointed by Athanar, and whoever was responsible to take care of the horses from the natives' part would see whom to talk to. The soldier's eyes flashed a bit to the side – it seemed obvious that the stables were over there. Hilderinc did not concern his mind with the rest of the hall yet. One by one. There was a way to familiarize yourself with a new place, and everything had its time.

And now, he noticed a young man – no, a boy, actually – moving close to him. One look was enough. All right, so "stablemaster" was maybe too much of a strong word, Hilderinc corrected himself. But there was hardly anything to wonder about. He decided that it is possibly the right moment to dismount. The boy stood against him, small and fair next to the dark soldier. Hilderinc handed the reins of his horse to him.

"Lead the way," he said. Turning to the rest of the company, most of them already dismounted by now, he beckoned to them and followed the boy into the stables, to see the place and to put the horses wherever was necessary. Especially he wanted to find the place for his lord's own mount and the others belonging to his wife, sons and captain before leading them in. However, Hilderinc only managed to go as far as to the door when a strange noise came from behind. It was a terrified neigh of lord Athanar's white mare, which Hilderinc had left in the courtyard! What was going on?

[Loslote]

Lilige stepped down from the wagon as soon as Athanar entered the Hall. She stretched briefly, stiff from the journey here. Present discomfort relieved, she hurried up to where the family's personal belongings were being unloaded.

"Be gentle with Lady Wynflaed's belongings!" she snapped as one especially large trunk hit the ground heavily. The box in question held only clothes, but several others contained items easily broken.

Looking about her, Lilige examined her new home. It was far more rustic than Edoras, and the people were not nearly as elegant as her old companions. However, the scenery was beautiful, and the Mead Hall looked promising. Lilige hoped she could grow to like it here.

"Lady Aedre's trunk is upside down!" she pointed out sharply. This could be a long process, she thought to herself.

[Folwren]

Thornden looked at Saeryn. She was looking at her hands, her jaw clenched and her lips a tight, thin line. He saw that she was not prepared to speak civilly to the new eorl, so he took it upon himself to break the heavy, practically tangible silence that hung over them after Degas’ exit.

“Perhaps it would be best to begin with what we need almost immediately,” Thornden said.

“No,” Saeryn said, finally finding her tongue, “No, I think we need to begin with a thorough understanding of where everyone stands in with this new authority.” Her glance and her tone were poisonous as she looked at Lord Athanar. Thornden felt his stomach clench inside him.

“Lady Saeryn, please,” he said, fixing her with as stern a look as he could muster at that moment. He had no wish to check her or put her down, but this was dangerous ground. He knew it at once. Athanar made it very clear he would not be trifled with, and going at it head on was clearly not the way to convince him of anything. But then Thornden’s look softened. “It will be well,” he said in a lower voice. He nodded reassuringly. “It will be.” How he could make such a reassurance, he did not really know. He had no idea what Athanar would do if people stood against him. Thornden knew he must be strong, and more than anything now the people needed his calm, steady thinking.

“The original reason that Lord Eodwine asked the landlords to come to us was because of our low store of food and winter clothing. We cannot hide it from you – winter is upon us, and we are ill prepared for it.”

[Mnemosyne]

"Indeed," said Wynflaed, speaking for the first time. "And the reason we were summoned here so quickly was to deal with the landlords." She looked sharply at Saeryn and for the briefest of moments felt pity for her. "There will be time enough to discuss matters of legitimacy and the new order when our people"--here she gestured to include Saeryn and Thornden--"are fed and the landlords respect the authority of the Meadhall.

"Eomer King has acquainted us somewhat with the particulars of this situation, but a report, even from a King, does not compare to the information from those in the thick of the matter. We cannot help you as effectively if we cannot discuss these matters as a united front. You know these landlords better than we do. Please help us, so that we may all learn how best to confront--or cajole--them."

Calmly she folded her hands and looked again at the Lady Saeryn. Unlike her husband, Wynflaed had a rival in this Hall who could act for herself, and would likely not take any perceived threats to her authority likely. Yet it was Athanar who ruled this Meadhall now, not Eodwine and thus not Saeryn.

Well. She had extended the hand of friendship between the old order and the new. She doubted that it would be taken--they were too much at cross-purposes for that--but perhaps they would at least manage a temporary alliance.

[Folwren]

Saeryn met Wynflaed’s eyes, and she felt grateful for her words. Perhaps this woman, at least, had no wish to take her place, and maybe she would be able to persuade her husband not to try to take Eodwine’s. She relaxed in her seat and drew a breath. So long as they treated Saeryn’s people as their own, without preferences among any of them or the newcomers, and everyone was treated fairly, then she would be able to abide a great deal. Wynfllaed spoke to include everyone, and that was good.

“The only complaint that they brought up when they were here is that we did not have the proper authority to demand payment or any sort of tribute from them,” Saeryn began. She then told them what had happened, touching on how the shabby appearance of the half-built meadhall had affected how the landlords treated them. She mentioned the appearance of her people, the soldiers with armor and weaponry beginning to look poor, and the women and children in work-worn clothing. She was not ashamed, and she did not speak as though she were. “They have worked hard,” she said, looking Athanar and Wynflaed in the face in turn. “And hard work has it’s effect, even if later it can be mistaken for slovenliness and laziness by those who are beyond the hard work and can just sit idly by and watch the work be done by others.” She paused slightly, as though making some sort of point, and then she continued, “That is what the other landlords thought, when they came, that we were a bunch of rag-tags, holding the hall against the king’s orders, and doing whatever we pleased.”

“All that they wanted was someone who really held authority and permission from the king to prove himself and demand the taxes,” Thornden said. He extended his hand toward Athanar. “Your presence here will suffice. The next time they come, they will come honorably, I am sure, and will do whatever you ask. In the mean time, and after they have come, your extra hands will be a great help in finishing the meadhall and other outlying buildings.”

[Nogrod]

What a temper! Athanar had thought to himself shaking his head when Degas stormed out from the Hall. With a small movement of his hand he had waved his sons to sit down - which they reluctantly did. He could be useful if that rage could be directed to the right targets...

~*~

He took up Thornden's extended hand and shook it firmly looking at the young soldier to the eye. "I hope I could share your optimism Thornden. But I happen to know this lord Tancred too well... Many a sigh of relief were heard in Edoras when he moved away from there. He's not one of those you wish to have quarrels with for he is resourceful, cunning and strong lord used to get his will. And from what you have told me, he seems to be the ringleader here as well... That's no surprise to me." Letting Thornden's hand lord Athanar leaned back on the eorl's chair and brought his fingers together in front of his lips, like he was considering carefully what to say.

"Allright then..." he started after thinking for a moment. "Our kitchen staff will have their hands full today, but I need an inventory on our food supplies done the first thing tomorrow after the breakfast. Do we have enough people who know that kind of stuff?"

"Modtryth can help... and I can myself if needed." Saeryn said with a remnant of defiance in her tone. In this Mead Hall also the leaders worked. That was a message coming loud and clear from her words.

"And there are Frodides, Kara and Ginna to do that as well. We'll have it done before lunch time." Thornden added.

"Good... Then I would have to meet with the smiths and carpenters and others who have been involved in the planning and executing the construction work. They should also carry the information of what building supplies there are available here. I would like to see them already today if we have time after they have unloaded the carts we brought from the king. And I need to see the plans, the sooner the better..."

Thornden nodded but his face betrayed his confusion over the order of importance the new eorl seemed to have. And Athanar noticed it.

"Oh master Thornden... we all have our vices... or weaknesses... I have never lived in a building where I haven't have a role in designing it. And I'm not intending to make this the first exception to that. You might call it a hobby but I call it a passion..." The first time today lord Athanar smiled warmly and heartily. "My little passion it is..."

Saeryn and Thornden glanced at each other but didn't say a word.

"How about the soldiers?" Coenred asked filling the silence.

"Today it is party-time... but we need to gather all the soldiers tomorrow and make things clear. Some light excercise perhaps to make them get to know each other? We'll see about that..." lord Athanar looked at Thornden and Saeryn - and then at Coenred and his sons.

"But lady Saeryn here is actually correct in demanding that any issues on authority should be solved rather sooner than later. We might skip a step or two if they seem too problematic on our first meeting but with soldiers we need clear command-structures and authorities. No disciplined military force functions without it.

Now every soldier here is serving king Eomer through the eorlship vested on me by the king. That should be clear - even if young Degas seems to think differently. I'll forgive him his quick temper as I do hope he can come back to his senses.

And captain Coenred will be my second in command: as a captain of the rohirrim he is both the highest ranking and the most experienced officer around."

He turned towards Thornden once again. "But I would like to appoint you Thornden to be my personal lieutenant - if you accept the honour. You know this place and people who serve here better than Coenred or myself and I would appreciate your advice and counsel in all matters concerning this Mead Hall."

Before neither Thornden or Saeryn had time to comment he waved them to wait for just one thing more. "And you lady Saeryn... Obviously my wife Wynflaed will be the lady of the Mead Hall. There should be no question about that. But I am both ready and willing to grant you a special status here - like with Thornden. And I would be very pleased indeed if you aided my dear wife with her duties and running of this Hall with your experience and person... and with your own status."

Athanar smiled and laughed dryly. "You might think I'm a spoiled lord from Edoras hungry for titles and estranged from practicalities. That is an appalling stereotype but sadly quite true for many lords in the city. But I hope I can prove you wrong there... what say you lady Saeryn, Thornden?"

[Groin Redbeard]

“What a day!” Matrim exclaimed as Athanar went inside that hall with Thornden and Lady Saeryn.

“I know what you mean,” Lithor walked up behind him. “Don’t worry, he won’t take over completely, lady Saeryn will still command us.”

Matrim looked at him doubtfully, then at the entourage of wagons. “I don’t know, Lithor. He certainly looks wealthy and I’m not sure he would have brought all these gifts if it was for the simple reason of pleasing us.”

“Not true, my friend. Athanar simply did not want there to be any tension in his coming here. Besides, we need him.”

Matrim smiled and nodded. “Exactly, we need him. Tell me, do you think he’s the type of man who would use that as leverage to gain what he wants?” The question caught Lithor off guard. He looked at Matrim surprised; this was not the simple young man he knew when Eodwine ruled.

“I can’t say either way. Athanar was not in Edoras when we brought lord Eodwine. Besides, change will come whether we want it or not. Let’s give this new fellow, Athanar, a chance. Eodwine would have wished it. Let’s greet our guests.”

They walked forward. Athanar’s soldiers had dismounted, but did not depart from their horses. Their gazes seemed cold and aloof—these soldiers were not the type that Lithor was used to. The officers stood as if at attention gazing at the people of Scarburg. One of the officers was staring at him from under a glistening helmet. Lithor waved, you never knew which old friend you might bump in to. The officer removed his helmet and bowed formally without saying a word, maintaining an air that reeked of discipline and arrogance. Lithor grimaced. A courtier, a dashing a cavalier. Lithor and Matrim went to look at the presents stored in the wagons.

Suddenly amidst the wonder and excitement of examining the stored treasures, Lithor heard shouting, an argument. Lithor quickened his pace and Matrim followed, a mysterious energy seemed to glow in his eyes. He could see them now, Wilcred was shouting at a soldier. As they neared the argument he began to distinguish words.

“How dare you! I should rip out your tongue for that insult.”

“I meant no offence, friend. I stand by what I say because it is true.”

“Peace friends,” Lithor commanded. “What’s the trouble here?”

“I’ll tell you,” Wilcred said silencing the other soldier, “this fellow has ordered me, to take his horse and find him drink and food. I responded by saying that I am not his stable boy and he responded by insulting lady Saeryn.”

“What say you to the charges soldier?” Lithor asked inquisitively, not sure if Wilcred was exaggerating. By now more soldiers had gathered round them.

“I admit to being a bit brutish in my bossing this fellow around,” the soldier responded calmly. “As to my insult, I mumbled it, not wishing for this man to hear; yet he heard it and I apologize.”

“What did you say?”

“I said that this soldier’s discipline,” he pointed at Wilcred, “has diminished due to his long dependence on a woman’s weak stewardship.” The soldier looked very humiliated for having to say it again in public. He lowered his gaze.

“Runt!” Lithor turned to see Matrim’s eyes lit with fury. “I’ll teach you proper respect!”

Before Lithor could grab him, Matrim had flung himself upon the soldier and thrown him to the ground. Again Matrim jumped on the man and together they rolled and dealt each other heavy blows. A horse neighed and reared itself in panic as the two neared it. Lithor jumped forward to intercede, but before he could, the brawny figure of the blacksmith stepped in. Harreld reached down and pulled the two apart. Crabannan rushed forward and held Matrim back while the soldier’s friends gathered around. Lithor was furious. If Athanar hears of this brawl who knows what might happen.

“Go and cool off, Matrim!”

The soldier was being looked after by his friends and Matrim took his leave quickly. Lithor breathed a long sigh. This is not acceptable. Harreld, Stigend, Crabannan, and a few others gathered around.

“Thanks Harreld, Crabanna. I doubt I could have stepped in before the brawl turned into a real mess.” Harreld looked away and noticed a man with a stern look coming their way.

“It doesn’t look like our troubles are over yet.”

[Durelin]

When they first arrived at Scarburg, Coenred was all at once filled with worry and a sense of being home. It was a relief to ride into this modest emnet after so long in Edoras - it brought back memories of home and working with his hands. But he also realized that this 'modest' appearance was partly because of the troubles of a growing land.

Coenred was pleased that he was able to be included in this meeting with the current officials of Scarburg, and knew it was more important to start seeing to the running of this Mead Hall than seeing to the horses and supplies. Coenred reddened slightly when Athanar introduced him as his "precious right hand man," pleased by the 'title.' He doubted he would have anything to contribute to discussion, but he was glad to have the chance to listen to the proceedings to better understanding the situation they had entered into. Some things he was sure would be answered quickly, such as how receptive the current leaders of Scarburg would be to a new Eorl and to aid in any form, and he found he was quite correct.

The young man, Degas, spoke with arrogance to the lord Athanar- and even though Coenred respected his desire to defend his family, he was more than happy to see the boy leave. He had a great deal of misplaced surety about him, especially considering is fresh young face. He needed some good old-fashioned discipline. Coenred was not really familiar with the laws of inheritance, but he saw it as just picking a fight to question Athanar's intentions when not only was he sent by the king himself, but also the child in question was not even born! Would it even be a son? Would it even survive to its birth?

Coenred almost sighed when he saw that the Lady Saeryn all but echoed Degas' complaints. She was quite young as well, of course not surprising if this was her first child, and she apparently was as hotheaded as her brother. Did she expect for the emnet to be handed over to her governance? Or did she expect to re-marry as soon as possible and that a man of her choosing would be eorl? It was one thing to be concerned about her child, another to be concerned about her own power. She should be thankful for aid, as they surely needed it.

Coenred was pleased that the man Thornden stepped in to turn the topic over to real issues of governance - the landlords and the coming of winter. He nodded sadly, recalling the winters he had survived as a child. He had lost one of his sisters to a bad winter, and another sibling before he or she was even born.

The Lady Wynflaed spoke wisely and diplomatically, attempting to soften the rough ground that already lay between her and her husband and the Lady Saeryn. When the wife of the former Eorl spoke again, Coenred felt more admiration for her this time, and a fondness for these people of Scarburg. But he shook his head slightly when she suggested that Athanar and those with him were "those who are beyond the hard work and can just sit idly by and watch the work be done by others." She needed to learn a bit, just like her brother. But they were young.

When there was a pause, and things felt a little on edge, Coenred decided to speak up, not only desiring to touch on the subject but also to direct attention away from the building plans which may have caused another sore spot. "How about the soldiers?" he asked, concerned ultimately with his own duties and not with governing or power structure. Tomorrow was the answer, and Coen would not argue, even though he desired to see what Scarburg had to offer.

"...captain Coenred will be my second in command: as a captain of the rohirrim he is both the highest ranking and the most experienced officer around," Athanar said. This was no surprise to Coen - they had discussed this before ever arriving. He still was not sure about his position, and certainly doubted his ability to fulfill it, but he would not refuse to serve Athanar in whatever way the man wished him to serve. He felt most at home working with the soldiers, and he hoped his position would involve little beyond that. Though he knew one of his duties would be to support the Lord Athanar in every way, and help to uphold his position as the new Eorl. Though such a duty was immensely important to him, he was not looking forward to dealing with the Lady Saeryn, her brother, or any others who tended toward spite.

Waiting nervously for a response from the Lady Saeryn and her servant Thornden, Coen hoped this meeting would draw to an end, or would allow him an exit, soon. Though he trusted Hilderinc fully, he did not like sitting here without knowing how the preparations were going or being the one to give his men orders.