Scarburg Meadhall

[Folwren]

Whilst the soldiers rode away to do their soldiering deeds, and the old Scarburgians hurried about meeting old friends or attending to their regular duties, one person of Athanar’s household roamed the premises mostly unseen and entirely unnoticed. He poked about the empty hall, and then ambled across the courtyard to the stables, peering into the empty stalls and then into the empty paddocks. Nearly every horse had been taken out. Lord Eodwine’s horse remained in his stall, a lonely reminder of his master’s absence.

Old Raban he was – trustworthy, elderly man of Athanar’s. Wounded almost beyond recognition, and maimed to such a degree that he could not walk without a stick and a limp, nor straighten his back, he was a strange figure and a living reminder of the wars not too long ago fought. He was on a mission this morning, and so far, his purpose had remained unfulfilled.

He left the stables and walked towards Harreld’s smithy. He knew it by the smoke that came from the forge’s chimney and the clanging of hammer against steel. Slowly he rounded the doorpost and stood on the doorstep looking in while the young smith worked tirelessly with tong and hammer.

“Have you a moment, young man?” Raban ask. “I have a request to ask of you, and a duty to fulfill for my lord Athanar.”

[littlemanpoet]

The morning dragged on slowly. The pain was not going away. It was worsening. All his hopes had been to share his life with Ginna; all that was gone, in a mere moment. He was determined not to stop his work, not to give into the pain. He set his face, clenched his teeth, and set himself a fierce pace with hammer and tong. It would not keep his thoughts in check - nothing could do that - but it would at least mask his pain from others.

The door opened. Now who? He stopped, his back still to the intruder.

“Have you a moment, young man? I have a request to ask of you, and a duty to fulfill for my lord Athanar.”

Harreld turned at the sound of the elderly voice, which did not quaver, but the years could be heard in it. It was Raban, Athanar's old smith. What Raban saw in his face seemed to startle him for a moment, but the old man collected himself.

"What is your request?" Harreld's voice sounded gruff in his own ears. He imagined that he must look as if he were in an unending rage, his eyes hard, his jaw set, a tightness in his cheeks. It could not be helped.

[Folwren]

Raban entered the smithy cautiously now. There seemed to be no reason for Harreld’s passion, and yet there he was, apparently caught in the midst of some terrible struggle or fury, just held at bay by his physically violent work. The old soldier steeled himself to his purpose and set right to the business he had come to perform.

“You were there when my lord Athanar brought Javan before his seat of court, and you heard the sentence given to the boy. I am to teach him how to make a shirt of chain mail. What I ever did to deserve such punishment, I’ll never know, but my lord’s wishes cannot be gainsaid by an old man’s grumblings. I came asking if your smithy could afford the space and the forge needed for such work. I have tools of my own, and would need but a corner of your space…” He looked about with his one keen eye, appraising what space there was. Not much, really. Some organizing and ordering would have to be done to make room for two more people. He looked back at Harreld. “Do you think it might be done?”

[littlemanpoet]

Faramund was startled by the sudden violence from Athanar. What had set this man off? Surely not himself! His little demonstration in the yard had not been enough to cause this untoward behavior in the man. Something must be eating him, Faramund conjectured. He eyed Athanar now, picked up his tankard and took a long drink, juggling in his mind the most useful way to reply. He could tell him that how he came into his wealth was none of his business as long as he gave Athanar the fees he had coming. Or he could tell him that his father had been of humble means because the poor wretch had never known how to keep his wealth about him. Or, he could tell him that he had agreed with the other lords nearby that they would charge higher fees for crimes than had been done in the past. All three were pieces of the truth. But he had his self-respect to consider, and this man was abusing it, eorl or not; he had controlled himself too late.

"Eorl you may be, lord Athanar," he said slowly, "which no doubt gives you certain rights and privileges. I daresay I will not find among them treating your landholders as beardless boys. Keep at it and you will not reach your aim here, if I read it rightly."

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld looked about him, following Raban's measuring gaze about his shop. He sighed heavily, his tight face loosening just a little.

"It is cluttered. But I expect my brother soon, and so room must be made. Since you need a smithy to do your duty to lord Athanar, this one must serve. Let us clear a space, and you may begin."

[Firefoot]

Léof studied Crowhair as they walked out the horses. He seemed to be in his late twenties, but he had a sort of worn look about him. He didn’t say anything to Léof until they were finishing up with checking the legs and hooves of the horses, when he suddenly spoke. “You don’t look much like a stablemaster.”

“Well, neither do you,” Léof shot back, sick of the suggestion that he was too young for his role.

Crowhair hardly seemed to notice the jab at his heritage. “Who ever said I was stablemaster? That’d be old Edric.”

“Then why isn’t he out here helping? It seems like it would be his job, not yours,” said Léof. “Or are you his assistant?”

“I said he was old, didn’t I?” said Crowhair. “So I help with the horses sometimes. I just do what I’m told. It’s always, ‘Crowhair, muck the stalls,’ or ‘Crowhair, clean and polish my armor.’”

“So why don’t you leave?” asked Léof.

“And go where? Would you take me in, if you were a lord? You said it yourself, that I don’t look much like a stablemaster – I suppose what you meant by that is that I don’t look like I belong here at all.”

Léof’s hesitation gave him away – Crowhair had him trapped. Crowhair didn’t seem to expect him to say anything though, since he continued to talk. “I did not mean for you to take my earlier comment so badly. I was just wondering how someone as young as you got to be stablemaster. You’re not related to the lord, are you?” Léof shook his head. Any pity he had begun to feel for Crowhair was beginning to ebb away. He didn’t have to stand here and be insulted – insulted by a Dunlending, no less! But then Crowhair said, “I guess I was wondering if someone who might give you a chance also might give me a chance. Maybe looks aren’t so important to them.”

Léof didn’t know what to feel then. He still felt rather insulted – but he also knew what it was to want a chance for another life. “Lord Eodwine probably would give you a chance. I think he’d give anyone a chance. But he’s taken sick, and is away in Minas Tirith. We don’t know if he’s coming back. Now Lord Athanar’s the Eorl in charge, and I’m not sure he’s as fair as Eodwine.” Léof shrugged. “He might give you a chance, and he might not.”

Crowhair’s shoulders sagged. “Well, I thought I’d try. But if your Eodwine ever comes back, do you think you could get word to me somehow? Or if you hear of anyone else who might give someone like me a chance.”

“Well – sure, I suppose I could do that,” said Léof. What else could he say? He wondered how bad it really was for Crowhair here. He remembered again the old man they had seen upon arriving, and decided he probably didn’t really want to know.

“Thank you,” said Crowhair, and he did not say another word until the soldiers came back out of the hall for their horses.

[Folwren]

Raban smiled slightly, glad that the smith turned out so obliging. During their short exchange of words, Raban had been able to detect that the smith had not been angry when he entered, but consumed by some great trouble. His years and experience enabled him to observe the expressions and feelings of his fellow men to some degree. He almost asked what troubled him, but held his tongue. That would have to wait for further acquaintance – at least another couple minutes.

“I should be unwilling to cause you any sort of annoyance and make you stop your work. Let me find the boy, and he and I will begin making space while you work, and instruct us where to put things. Will that suffice?”

[Folwren]

Quin moved with all the other soldiers into the shelter of the hall where food and some mead was brought to them. Quin sat at the end of one table with his back to his companions, looking back towards the door. He watched for Leof, hoping that he would come soon, but the minutes ticked away and he didn’t show.

With a backwards glance over his shoulder at the others, Quin stood up and walked out. He went to the stables and entered. No one was within, and none of the horses there were familiar. Of course. They wouldn’t put the Scarburg horses in the stables. He exited again and looked about. There at the end of the stables was the beginning of the paddock, and he could see several horses tied to the rail already. He hurried across. He spotted Leof and Faramund’s stablehand, walking side by side, each with two horses in hand.

Quin stood for a moment, irresolute. Should he go over to Leof and speak with him? Would it be his business to interrupt their conversation? The closer he looked, though, the more he realized the two weren’t speaking anyway. But what if he distracted him from his work? That was unlikely. Leof seemed like the straightforward sort of fellow who would keep working even if Quin approached him. But then the question presented itself of how it would look for one of Athanar’s soldiers to go talk to the stablemaster while he proceeded with his job? Well, it didn’t matter.

Quin walked towards Leof. “Can I be of help?” he asked.

[Firefoot]

Léof was a little surprised to see Quin heading towards him. He wondered if Quin had some sort of message for him, perhaps about how much longer the meeting would go. But instead he asked, “Can I be of help?”

Because of the unexpectedness of the question, there was a slight pause before Léof answered. “If you’d like, you can help walk out the horses,” he said. “These two I’ve got are about done – I’ll go with you and we can each grab a pair.”

Quin nodded agreeably. “Alright,” he said.

“I take it there is not much going on inside?” asked Léof.

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar was about to give Faramund a full response... using the phrase of a "beardless boy" for starters. But he knew better. It was close, as always with him. Darn my temper... he thought to himself studying the flouting youngster in front of him.

But like so many times before, he was able to collect himself and come back to the down to earth, no-nonsense way that was so peculiar to him. He was not a man of sweet talking or round-about queries - like the people in the Mead Hall had already learned.

"I do not find it one of your privileges to smirk at your eorl... or play him for a fool. Or to insult the lady or the people of the Mead Hall, as I heard you have done." He said slowly. "I'm ready to forget that for the time being, if you change your manner right now... That said, and as a token of it, I do apologise spilling your excellent mead. It's a pity to waste good stuff..." He stared intensively to Faramund while stressing the last sentence.

Lord Athanar leaned back a bit more relaxed now. Faramund looked like he was reaching for words to say something but lord Athanar raised his hand to let him understand he hadn't finished.

"Now, you didn't actually answer my question I'm entitled to be answered, whether you like me asking - or my way of asking - it. So tell me now, where does all this wealth come from? I've seen your holdings and they don't produce this, or this worth of anything you could trade in. So how do you get all this?" Athanar turned to pick the goblet from the table, but suddenly turned back to Faramund.

"How do the farmers fare around these corners? It didn't look like they were that well off to just reward their beloved lord out of respect and thankfullnesswith all this?"

He took a sip from the goblet and laid it back on the table.

[Folwren]

“Not much at all,” Quin replied, taking the reins of the two horses handed to him. “Most of us are just sitting about, not talking much, and probably eating less. I don’t think anyone’s comfortable here.”

Léof looked at him with a raised eyebrow and gave a significant nod. “I shouldn’t think so,” he said quietly.

They walked their horses out side by side. “Did you see how they greeted lord Athanar?” Quin asked in a lowered voice. “He was positively rude! I haven’t seen anyone get away with being that disrespectful to lord Athanar before. I swear he even made fun of him at that one point.”

--

In the Kitchen at Scarburg

Saeryn did not answer Falco’s rather poignant question for a moment or so. The others stood silent as well.

“It’s not as easy as you may think, Falco,” Saeryn finally said. “I don’t know how it is in the Shire, but it’s not such a simple thing to pick up and move here.”

“You’ve done it…several times,” Falco noted.

“Aye, but I am one person, and I was foolish then, and unhappy. People here are happy, or were, and in many cases, as in Stigend’s and Garstan’s, they have more than themselves to look after. Stigend cannot just decide to leave on a minute’s notice and uproot his family to go who knows where.

“As for me, I could not leave as I used to, even if I wanted. I am chained here, in a manner of speaking, because I am Eodwine’s wife, and until he has returned or until word has come that he will never return, my place and my duty is here. Not to mention that I have a child to think of and prepare for.”

[Firefoot]

“I don’t think he’s gotten away with it yet,” replied Léof. “I wouldn’t want to be in the same room with those two right now.”

“Nor would I,” said Quin, “as curious as I am to know what is happening.”

“I am too. Lord Athanar doesn’t seem like one you’d want to upset. I mean, I never wanted to upset Lord Eodwine, either, but it was more because I wouldn’t want to disappoint him than because I was afraid of him. Lord Athanar seems to become angry so easily – I’d be afraid of what he was going to do to me. I wonder what he’s going to do to Faramund – and what he can do.”

[Folwren]

Quin bent his head sideways so he could reach to scratch it with one hand while still holding the horse’s reins. “Ah...I don’t know what he will do. It’s not the sort of thing I think I’ve ever seen before. The only people who would talk like that to lord Athanar might be his own sons, but their family. When we were in Edoras, everyone knew their place and there seemed to be an understanding of proper behavior.

“He does have a very strict opinion on how people are supposed to act and speak. That’s why he got so mad at Lithor that first evening we were here. So I really imagine he’s raking Faramund over the coals just about now. I guess he can’t drag him before his court, though, much as he might like.”

[littlemanpoet]

An apology of any kind from this arrogant eorl was a step in the right direction, Faramund thought.

"Apology accepted. And my thanks for your compliment on the drink."

He paused to take a sip of his mead and set down his tankard. "As for these trinkets and blandishments, some of them have been in this chamber for generations. My serving maids do a fair job of keeping the spiderwebs off them. However, this region has been subject to a rash of lawlessness of late. I have of course charged fines and fees for them. The more heinous the crime, the higher the fee, as you can well understand, my lord. I do not ask these fools to break the law to increase my wealth, but since they do thieve and flout the king's law, I as landholder to reap a small reward therefrom ... as I'm sure you understand..."

[Folwren]

“I should be unwilling to cause you any sort of annoyance and make you stop your work,” Raban told Harreld. “Let me find the boy, and he and I will begin making space while you work, and instruct us where to put things. Will that suffice?”

“No, I do not mind helping you clear a space,” Harreld replied. “In fact, I would insist that I do it with you. Go and find the boy, and when you have returned, I will have decided where we shall put you and how to begin cleaning the place.”

Raban nodded and turned to go without another word. He walked with his slow, uneven gait across the courtyard to the stables again. Although Javan had not been there when he first searched the place, he knew that he was supposed to be working there. The temporary distraction of greeting the newcomer was likely taken care of and out of the way, and he should be back at his work.

As soon as he entered the dimly lit and musty smelling place, he heard the scrape of the pitchfork against the stall floor. He slowly paced down the aisle to where the wheelbarrow stood. At quick, even intervals, a thick shower of shavings, straw, and manure came shooting out of the stall door and into the barrow.

Raban stopped just outside the stall door and beside the wheelbarrow. He looked in quietly and waited until Javan turned about to pitch the next load out. The boy gave a start, and his aim fell short.

“You frightened me!” Javan said. It would not have been so bad were it just anybody standing there, but the disfigured face in the half light looked even more grotesque than when he first saw him. “What do you need?”

“You and I are going to begin our long tutelage together today,” Raban said.

“Today?” Javan repeated. “But, Léof is gone and I have to work in the stables.”

“How many more stalls have you left?”

Javan glanced up and down aisle, counted mentally the stalls he had already done, the ones that did not need to be cleaned, and then answered with some chagrin. “Just three, maybe.”

“They can wait for this afternoon. Now, come with me and we will go to the smithy and see what needs to be done there. We should finish preparing our space by noontime, and once we are done in there, you may finish here.”

Javan frowned a little. “Very well. Let me finish this stall, then.”

“No,” Raban said firmly. “Harreld is waiting for us.” He turned about and walked towards the door. “Come along, young man, come along.”

Javan rolled his eyes, propped the pitchfork against the half filled wheelbarrow, and followed the old man to Harreld’s smithy.

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar looked at Faramund as he spoke and nodded occasionally to encourage him to continue. But as Faramund finished lord Athanar's face turned into solid and grey like a stone. He looked at him to the eyes relentlessly for a while, thinking.

Suddenly he turned back and called for Hilderinc who had still been standing at the door. He waved Hilderinc to bow towards him so that he could whisper to his ear without Faramund being able to hear what he said: "Go and find that man who was thrown out from this hall as we came here... and bring him here as soon as you find him."

Hilderinc nodded, bowed to both lord Athanar and lord Faramund, and left.

Lord Faramund was puzzled but managed to keep his calm, at least to an extent. But lord Athanar was not fooled that much. He knew the man was uncomfortable right now.

Athanar took a sip from his goblet and then queried Faramund, in an almost absent-minded tone: "So, small fees, without any interest to yourself?" He toyed again with the goblet.

"Well you sure have the proceedings and fines accounted for? Why don't you send someone to get me the documents. I'd like to eye them as your eorl..." He smiled now, not triumphantly or sneering, but self-assuredly enough for Faramund to realise what he was up to. And that was exactly what lord Athanar wished to convey.

[littlemanpoet]

Faramund wanted to wipe that smirk off Athanar's face, especially because the man seemed bent on showing off his superior education. What was he showing off for? Faramund was an eorling through and through, unlike this over-learned Gondorian imitator. Best to deal with it directly.

"Forgive me, my lord," Faramund said. "I have not dealt with men who so make Gondor their second home, as you surely must. I am not sure what you mean by these words, in trist, prow seeding, dock you meant, and the rest. You are more learned than I, no doubt. Do you mean the ledger?"

"Aye, the ledger," Athanar replied.

Faramund called over Stedford and told him to fetch the ledger. What Athanar hoped to garner from that Faramund could not guess. No matter. For Eorlingas a man's word was his bond. The ledger held only lists of items received and still owed.

What was this man up to? Did he have notions of overturning Faramund's judgment? A bile of hatred built suddenly inside. But Faramund held it in check. Let his old piece of coal have his say here this day. Once gone, Faramund would do as he pleased.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc left the hall promptly after hearing Athanar's order. He was not, in fact, entirely sure about the man Athanar wanted him to fetch – he had been too busy with other thoughts that he had hardly noticed the man when they were arriving. But he did not want to ask details from Athanar or Thornden in the room, especially as it seemed clear that the lord did not want Faramund to overhear this command. It did not matter – Hilderinc was simply going to find and ask some of the other soldiers, or some of the locals.

He assumed that the rest of Athanar's men will already be inside the hall, but he went to the courtyard in case the man was still there, or somebody who might be able to help him. When he had walked outside, he stopped and blinked in the still rather bright light of the autumn day, too bright after the calm twilight of the inside of Faramund's hall. Everything seemed calm and peaceful, a soft wind was blowing from the fields and the courtyard was almost empty and quiet except for the sound of horses snuffling from the paddock and the clucking of a few hens from somewhere out of sight. He could not see anybody who would have seemed like the man he had been looking for, only a bit further away he could spot a man who was probably one of the local servants, and coming from the paddock with two pairs of horses, the young "stablemaster" of Scarburg – what was the boy's name again? – and what seemed to be Quin. Why isn't he inside with the rest of the men? Hilderinc thought. But then he was reminded of his own reluctance to share the company of others at some times, so maybe the young soldier felt similarly at this moment. Rather immediately, however, Hilderinc was surprised by realising his own thought – he would never have compared anybody to himself (and much less even compared himself to anybody). It was a rather alien feeling to think of somebody in such a way... no, he shrugged the idea away without thinking about it more deeply. And as the two were coming closer, he decided to go to meet them, as he had considered it easier than to summon them to come after him. They seemed to be busy with the horses anyway, and there was a chance that if he had called them, only one might have come. It was better to ask them both, there was a better chance of them knowing something.

Swiftly, he crossed the courtyard and the two stopped as they spotted him, breaking their chatter. Young Quin looked at him questioningly as he approached, but Hilderinc spoke before he could.

"It's all right, Quin, you are not required inside," he said with a bit of smirk in his face. "I just wanted to ask the two of you whether you remember the man who was," he tried to recall Athanar's exact words, "who was thrown out of the hall as we came here." A slight move in the "stablemaster's" face affirmed that at least he knew who he was talking about.

"I was wondering whether you don't happen to know where he might be, or if you haven't seen him around, since you are out here," Hilderinc continued. "So, what do you say?" He looked around as if checking that nobody else is near. "Lord Athanar had asked me to bring the man inside – you don't need to tell this to anybody, is that clear! - but I am sure that he would rather have him brought as soon as possible, and since the two of you are out here, you could as well help me."

[Nogrod]

When Stedford was leaving the room, lord Athanar gave him a special look.

Stedford nodded hastily so that Faramund would not notice it.

After Stedford had left, Athanar turned to lord Faramund. "Well, lord Faramund... Do you have any idea why people around here are so very unlawful? Were they that un-law-abiding while your father reigned? Or why haven't you lords been able to suppress that?"

[Folwren]

“I can help you, at least,” Quin said. “Léof likely cannot as he is dealing with the horses.” He felt a little emboldened, whereas normally he may not have contradicted Hilderinc. But he was right. Léof had his job to perform. Also, he was Léof’s friend, and he knew that some of the soldiers did not think that such a young man could really be a good stablemaster.

“I do not know if I saw the man who you are talking about,” he went on, leading his two horses back to the fence. “I can help you find him, though.” He looped the reins back over the rail. “Chances are some of the folk here will know who it is you’re looking for – or does telling them count as letting someone else know?” He looked at him keenly. “What does he look like, anyway, and why does lord Athanar want him?”

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

"Now, that is not quite your place to ask, is it?" Hilderinc said calmly, looking Quin into the eyes. "Sufficient to say, he wants him found - your curiosity might be satisfied then." He looked around.

"I have been counting on that it might be the best to ask some of the locals anyway," he continued. "But if we do, we should avoid telling too many people, is that clear? Let's not rouse the whole hall because of that. We will do the best to ask only one or two at most.

But are you sure you have not seen the man when we were coming here? It seems that there were more of us, then, because I am not very sure about what he looked like either. My hope was that the two of you would have seen him better with your keen young eyes," he finished jestingly, but without a change in his expression or in the tone of his voice. It felt a bit awkward for Hilderinc to have to admit this omission in spotting the man, he was not used to fail in his duties that often. It was the holbytla, a thought flashed somewhere in the back of his mind. Surely there was some ill omen in the appearance of that strange little man. The more reasonable part of his mind pushed this half-unconscious idea away, however.

[Folwren]

“Now that’s not quite your place to ask, is it?” Quiet though it was, Quin still heard and understood the rebuke and he immediately whatever flippancy or lightness he had felt before completely left him and he came back from tying the horses to stand before Hilderinc to hear the rest of what he wished.

“I’m sorry. I was at the very back of the line. I didn’t see him at all. I can go in and ask some of the others who are inside and who would’ve seen better. I’ll be careful about it. Shall I?”

[littlemanpoet]

Faramund peered at Athanar from between furrowed brows. The man's questions were purposely offensive. He stood abruptly.

"You are trying to rile me. You have succeeded. Eorl or no eorl, no one talks to me so mockingly! Go find some other landholder and get him to cower beneath your vaunted eorlship! You have worn out your welcome and I'll not help you toward your purpose any longer. Finish your drink and food if you like. Good day!"

Faramund turned his back on Athanar, walked into his own rooms, and slammed the door behind him.

If this new eorl barged into his own quarters or tried to take charge of any thing at all that was his, Faramund would have Athanar's back to the wall, by law. He hoped the eorl would do something rash.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

“I’m sorry. I was at the very back of the line. I didn’t see him at all. I can go in and ask some of the others who are inside and who would’ve seen better. I’ll be careful about it. Shall I?”

Hilderinc nodded, even though a bit reluctantly. "Go and do it. I shall look around outside the hall, just in case the man is still around here somewhere. If you don't find anything, or if you get some idea of where he can be found or who he is, come and report to me. If you find the man yourself, bring him to lord Athanar and then come back to tell me. Now, quick! We have wasted enough time already."

With these words, Hilderinc pointed Quin towards the hall and he alone turned to walk across the courtyard, towards several smaller buildings - they looked like woodsheds; from there he had turned left, seeing that there was nobody in sight, and then walked next to the hall to its other side. There he stumbled upon a man who had been apparently busy with nailing thin pieces of leather skin over some of the windows in the back. When he noticed Hilderinc coming closer, the man's expression turned to that of fear, he quickly turned back to his work and started hammering the nails very loudly. Hilderinc stopped, puzzled, then looked around to see whether there wasn't any other person in the vicinity whom he might ask, and seeing nobody, he walked fast towards the man.

"Excuse me," he started, trying to be loud enough to be heard over the noise the worker had been making. The man turned, still fear in his eyes, then his expression changed briefly.

"You are not one of lord Faramund's men!" he said with a trace of relief in his voice. "I thought you - oh, you must be one of the people who arrived!" The fear had once again returned into this eyes.

"I am," Hilderinc said calmly, even though inside his mind, he was not quite sure what to make of the man's strange behavior. "Don't worry, I am not going to disturb you in your work... I only wanted to ask you something."

"Oh, I have a lot to do, yes, truly, sir," the man nodded. "I need to get this done by evening... and I don't know how can I be of help, I don't know much that could be of use to you, I'm sure, I'm just a simple farmer..."

"What does a simple farmer do here, doing... whatever it is that you are doing?" Hilderinc asked, in a slightly suspicious voice.

"Repairing the windows, sir," the man said, the fear in his said being now clearer than before. "I am only repairing them for my lord Faramund..."

"Lord..." Hilderinc muttered. There was really something wrong in here.

"Sir, I really have to continue working, so that I can still go back home before evening," the man said. "If you pardon me..."

"Just tell me, then, if you know anything about the man... ah," once again Hilderinc would have kicked himself for not paying enough attention when they were arriving. "Have you seen us arrive?" he asked.

"No, sir, I was here in the back," was the answer.

Hilderinc shook his head. "Never mind, then. I am sorry for interrupting you."

"Good day, sir."

"Good day."

Hilderinc began to walk away, then after taking a few steps he stopped and turned around.

"How did you learn about us arriving?" he asked.

The man put away his mallet. "Why, sir," he said. "Old Wiglaf told me."

"Good," Hilderinc said, inside congratulating himself to a good idea. So here might be somebody who could have seen this man I am looking for. "And where can I find this Wiglaf?" The man again started to look fearful. "I would like to ask him something," Hilderinc clarified.

The farmer sighed. "I think he will be around... he said he will be around... for today... probably working in the barn now," he ended with a sad expression in his face.

"Barn," Hilderinc nodded. "Thank you, then. And good day."

"Good day, sir."

For the second time, Hilderinc turned around and walked away. There had been no doubt something strange in the man's behavior, but Hilderinc did not really have time to think about it. Now he had to find this "old Wiglaf", at least hoping he was not so old to have his sight so bad that he wouldn't have noticed the man Hilderinc was looking for.

[Folwren]

Now was the time that Thornden must step into his position of the eorl’s steward, even if he wasn’t really Athanar’s steward. He stood when Faramund stood and watched him turn his back and leave. When the door had shut behind Faramund, Thornden moved around the table. He paused before the door, thinking of what might happen once he moved.

He only hesitated a moment and then he raised his hand and knocked sharply on the oak door. “Lord Faramund!” he called. “My lord Athanar has yet to settle his errand with you. Come out! Come out and speak with your rightful lord and give him proper reply to his questions.”

[littlemanpoet]

"Now that's what has me puzzled," Falco replied to Saeryn, using his pipe as a pointer. "You're no longer the Lady of Scarburg; this here Lady Wynflaed is that. And as you're Eodwine's wife, it seems to me your duty is with him, way over yonder in Minas Tirith. Now I could be wrong, and forgive me if there's something I don't see, but that's how it looks the way my eyes see it."

Saeryn looked taken aback a moment, frowning. The others gathered around looked from eye to eye. Falco supposed that they were saying silently between themselves that this seemed to make obvious sense to them; or maybe their looks meant, "this hobbit just does not understand". Fine and well. He hoped they'd make him understand, and maybe he could help them. It was the least he could do for Eodwine as the dear old Big Fool wasn't here to speak for himself.

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar had been testing the young lord and looking for a reaction. And he had been looking forwards to one. Still he was taken quite unawares with the violence of lord Faramund's sudden burst. So I was right then? He thought to himself as he noticed Thornden going to the door leading to Faramund's personal quarters.

After calling for Faramund Thornden turned questioningly towards lord Athanar who only raised his open palm asking him to wait. It was quiet.

After a moment of silence lord Athanar rose up and turned towards the door.

"Lord Faramund! I have not yet enough evidence to break through your door and have you arrested. And I hope there will never be a need to make that case. But if there is, rest assured I will not shy away from it." He nodded to Thornden to follow him and was already turning towards the door when he halted and called Faramund one more time.

"We'll leave you in peace here but will check the ledger in the hall before we go." He made a short pause. "So good day to you as well."


Walking through Faramund's hall Ahtanar gave Thornden quick instructions talking in a hushed voice.

"Well Thornden, we have a lot to do and the longer it takes the more chances there are for problems to emerge. I hope Stedford will come soon with the ledger. Get five men here for me to the hall and help Hilderinc find that man they threw out from here. When you find him, get him here... oh, and tell Coen to keep an eye on things and get ready if something looks out of the ordinary. Brief him on the situation and he'll know what to do."

They had reached the main door and stepped out into the sunlight. "Any questions?"

[Nogrod]

Before Thornden had a chance but to eye the eorl he seemed to have something to add.

"And one more thing... how stupid of me to not bring it as the first thing. Send two men up the road to look if Faramund tries to send a messenger to Tancred in secret. They have my authority to hold anyone trying to get a message to Tancred, with force if needs be."

He looked at Thornden half-smiling. "Questions?"

[Folwren]

Thornden shook his head once before veering off to carry out Athanar’s orders. He found Coenred with the rest of the men. Most of them were out in the courtyard again, after quenching their thirst from riding.

“Lord Athanar wants five men inside with him. Two need to mount again and rid to the road and intercept any rider that Faramund sends out.”

“Is there trouble?” Coenred asked quietly.

Thornden hesitated in shaking his head either positively or negatively. Finally he answered, “I hope not. I think lord Athanar just wants to make sure that no trouble is made. Faramund is dodging all of lord Athanar’s questions about how well off the place is and why it seems to be thriving. I think he suspects Faramund somehow, for the people here don’t seem happy, but Faramund himself is rich. Anyway, as I said, Faramund won’t answer things straight, and then finally he got up and left. I think he was insulted.” He looked Coenred straight in the eye. “Listen, you are close enough to Athanar to possibly speak to him. Ask him to handle Faramund and the other lords carefully from this time on. Perhaps he’ll listen to you, but I dare not venture say a word, for fear he misunderstands me. He is too rough, too…dominating. Faramund cannot handle it, and I fear he may become angry and violent.

“But come, we must not tarry here. Get your men. I must got help Hilderinc find the man that was thrown out. Have you seen him?”

[littlemanpoet]

He had changed his mind. He was not going to wait for Athanar to take action. He would do it himself. He had left his private quarters through another door and made for the mess hall.

As he expected, many of his men were there refreshing themselves after having finished his drill.

"Up, men! The Eorl threatens to take unlawful action against us! Arm yourselves! The Eorl think he can order things as he pleases on land not his own! Speed to the stables and mount! Place yourselves in tight ranks! Show this overweening lordling he cannot take your holdings from you!"

Only I can do that, he said to himself.

His men hurried dutifully toward the stables. He followed them at a more leisurely pace. He stopped the slowest of his retainers.

"Where is Stedford? I have need of him!"

"I saw him on an errand, lord."

"What errand? I gave him no errand!"

"I know not, lord."

Faramund shook his head, irritated. He continued on toward the stables. Meanwhile, Stedford passed by him just beyond an inner wall, ledger in hand, aimed toward Lord Athanar.

[Folwren]

Coenred communicated that he had seen the man in question when they first came, but apart from seeing him stumble off to the side and end up in the stables, he could give no other information as to his whereabouts.

“Thank you. See to your men.” Thornden turned and headed towards the stables. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another figure converging on the same path. He turned his head and saw Hilderinc. “Have you not found him yet?” Thornden asked.

“I was told he was in the stable.”

“That was Captain Coenred’s guess, too,” Thornden replied. “Good. Possibly we will find him, then. Did you see him when we rode up? You were in back, I would be surprised if you had.”

“I did not,” Hilderinc replied. Thornden described Wiglaf’s appearance quickly as they approached the stables. “He shouldn’t be too hard to find. I imagine not many people will be in here anyway.”

But when they entered, they found the place half full of men already. Thornden stopped short on the threshold and he darted a quick glance about. “Hilderinc. . .” he paused and frowned in frustrated thought. “Hilderinc, go back and tell lord Athanar that Faramund’s men are getting their horses. . .and they are armed.” Hilderinc nodded and turned to obey. Thornden stood and considered a moment longer before acting. How dangerous were these men? Would he be in danger if he continued in his errand of finding Wiglaf amongst them? Would they try to harm him if he tried to enter the stables further? The fact of the matter was, he no longer wanted to find Wiglaf. He wanted to speak to Faramund, and he needed to do it quickly. Where would the young lord be? If he were in the hall, he would be speaking to Athanar. If he were not in the hall, he would be seen by someone outside. He had gone to speak to his men and sent them in this direction to get their horses. Lord Faramund, probably, would be preparing himself just like his men. He would be here, then. Somewhere.

Thornden made up his mind. He stepped forward boldly, made eye contact with no one, and began threading his way through the men carrying saddles and bridle, around the broad flanks of horses, and towards the end of the stables closest to the hall. Then, as he drew near the outer door, he saw Faramund enter. He went forward quickly and unnoticed and stepped quite close to Faramund before the young lord gave a sign that he knew he was present.

"Lord Faramund," he said, his voice low and quiet in the hubbub of the men and horses. "May I have a word with you?"

[Thinlómien]

"N-no. I don't think so. Do you think Frodides would be kind enough to give us some time to talk?"

"Sure", Modtryth said. "Come, let's go sit by the oak, there we can have a moment of peace."

She took the younger woman by the arm and led her to the edge of the patch of forest, letting go of her arm soon enough. She didn't want to be too intrusive. "Frodides shall be fine", she assured Ginna. "There were only the two of us in the kitchen a moment ago, and she could hardly come up with anything to do for me. She sent me to fetch water although I already hauled her more water in the morning than what she needs for the whole day."

Modtryth sat down in the pleasant shade of the huge tree, and Ginna sat down next to her. It still would have been a good day without all the worries, Modtryth thought. She gave the girl a half-smile.

"So, what's it that needs fixing?"

[littlemanpoet]

A stranger approached him in the stables. Faramund was about to ignore him but there was an urgency in the young man that made him curious. The stranger came close and started speaking in low and intense tones.

"Lord Faramund, may I have a word with you?"

The youth looked familiar but Faramund couldn't place him. A stranger, he was probably not from nearby. Scarburg?

"Be quick! What is your business?"

[Folwren]

Thornden had expected more of a rebuff from Faramund, more of an obvious show of hostility. But there was little of that – just haste and impatience. It gave him a little hope.

“If you are preparing your men to fight against lord Athanar, you may want to think further about it. Lord Athanar has the authority of the king’s word and command behind him. If you defy Athanar, you defy King Eomer.” He thought hard in attempt to find something diplomatic to say, something to cool the man’s head. The best he came up with was, “You and lord Athanar have your differences, but they must be thought through, and spoken out, not solved through fighting.”

[littlemanpoet]

Faramund regarded the earnest young man.

"Who are you? You were in the council moments ago. What is your name?"

"I am Thornden, Lord Athanar's steward."

Ah. Now he remembered him. He had stood against the three of them with that woman, the lady of Scarburg. And this steward had thrown him out! He raised himself up as high as his stature allowed, raised his chin, and looked down his nose at this steward of Scarburg.

"I take arms to defend what is mine, as do those with me." Then he leaned into Thornden, eyed him squarely, and raised his pointing finger into the young man's face. "Look here, even the king's law has limits. No man can walk on to another's land and act as if it's his own. Not Athanar, not Eomer. Tell your eorl that for me!"

He held Thornden with his eyes a moment longer, then stalked away. He knew he was in the right on this one. No doubts at all. He was determined to protect what was his from all comers, no matter who they were are claimed to be.

[Firefoot]

Léof didn’t like this one bit. First Hilderinc, who seemed hardly to esteem him, Léof, at all, had approached him and Quin in search of the man whom they had seen bodily thrown from the hall. It had seemed rather sneaky of him; why would not one of Faramund’s men, who would have known where to find the man, have come after him, unless Faramund did not want him found?

And now suddenly the hall was teeming with activity. Many unfamiliar men – Faramund’s men – had come out, and they seemed too heavily armed for normal daily activity – even Léof could see that. And they had all headed for the stables, presumably to get their horses. Léof hoped desperately that there would not be fighting, but if there was he supposed that all of the Scarburg horses ought to be in one place. He took the two that he was holding and lead them back to where the rest were tied.

Another thought occurred to him: what if some of Faramund’s men decided to come and either steal or loose the Scarburg horses? He was only one person, unarmed and somewhat less bulky than most soldiers; he would make a rather poor guard. He looked around for Crowhair, but he was nowhere to be seen. Léof quickly counted the horses to make sure he had not made off with any of them; he had not. Well, that was something; for the briefest moment Léof had wondered if he had made up that entire story to trick him and that he had intended to steal the horses all along. No; there had been a certain earnestness in his face and in the way he stood. But he was gone now, and so Léof had no allies, and no one to tell him what to do or what was happening. He was not even sure that Crowhair would be on his side; perhaps he would feel some duty to his lord, even if he was a poor one, and that might well be proper.

But what now was he to do? One of the horses stamped and snorted nervously. Well, if someone did come to harm the horses, Léof would be of little good against them on foot. He swiftly untied and mounted his own horse; at least now he would have some advantage of height, and if someone tried to scatter the horses, he would now have some hope of trying to round them up.

[Folwren]

The young lord’s obstinance and naivety infuriated Thornden. He held his annoyance in check and stepped after Faramund. “Lord Faramund,” he said, his voice insisting. “The eorl is not trying to take anything that is yours away from you. Nor does he mean to act as though he owns it. He wishes only to know how best to decide what you owe to the king.” Faramund had stopped but he still stood with his back towards him. Thornden felt himself on thin ice, but he must try to convince this fool not to fight.

“You must see reason. If you insist on fighting, there will be a brief clash of arms, some time of rest, and then within a week the king’s men will be down upon you and your own fear of losing your land may be realized.”

If this last warning did not penetrate through Faramund’s anger, he would go back to Athanar and tell him what Faramund had said and let Athanar take it from there. He would have done his duty to try to keep peace and stay bloodshed.

[Folwren]

Quin had been in search of the man, Winglaf. None of the soldiers he had questioned new where he was to be found and after looking about the hall to no avail, he headed back out towards the courtyard. There was a strange, tense atmosphere about that he could not explain. There was Athanar with five men behind him. Stedford, Athanar’s steward, was approaching him, a large leather bound book under his arm. Hilderinc was also drawing near, but he did not have the old man with him.

Outside, Captain Coenred stood with the other men-at-arms. The men were not standing in ranks, but as Quin passed them, he saw uneasy glances being sent about. Coenred stood in an apparently nonchalant attitude, but his hand was on his sword hilt, and his face was set in a grim expression as he surveyed the courtyard. He back was towards the door of the hall and his sweeping glance could see every other door opening into the area of the courtyard.

Quin hurried past and rounded the stables and the paddocks to Léof. Léof was mounted on his horse and he was riding her up and down behind the line of horses.

“What’s amiss, Léof?” Quin asked coming forward to meet him. “Everybody is suddenly uptight and you look like you’re on patrol duty.”

[Lhunardawen]

"So, what's it that needs fixing?"

My heart? My relationship with Harreld? Ginna did not quite know how to answer. How could she, when she did not even have any idea of what was going on?

Her head was bowed, her hands clasped together on her lap. She glanced at Modtryth from the corner of her eye; she was smiling slightly but her eyes were soft, filled with concern. Here was a kindly woman whose appearance much belied her character. Ginna thought of how, despite her lineage, Modtryth was happily married to Stigend.

She had come to the right person.

"How did you know that you and Stigend were right for each other?"

[Firefoot]

Léof was relieved to see Quin hurrying up to him – maybe he would have news about what was going on, or instructions for what needed to be done. But Léof was disappointed for Quin arrived with more questions, not answers. “What’s amiss, Léof? Everybody is suddenly uptight and you look like you’re on patrol duty.”

“I’m not rightly sure,” Léof answered. “It seems that I’m always one of the last people to find out what’s going on. But a little bit ago a bunch of Faramund’s men went hurrying out to the stables, and they were armed. I don’t know if there’s going to be a fight, or what they’re planning to do, but I figure it’s my duty to make sure they don’t try to do anything to our horses,” he finished, gesturing at the line of horses tied to the paddock.