Scarburg Meadhall

[littlemanpoet]

“Family gatherings and harvest celebrations – that’s when we danced. How ‘bout you?”

"The same," she grinned. The briefest twinge of grief caught at her just behind the breastbone, but she willed it away and stayed in the moment. They repeated the pattern of separating and passing and returned to each other's hands. "Have you other talents you've kept hidden, Thornden?"

[Folwren]

“Have you other talents you’ve kept hidden, Thornden?” Rowenna asked in the scarce time they had together.

“Oh,” Thornden said, frowning with thought. Rowenna’s eyes twinkled as she tilted her head back farther, still looking at him. Thornden hesitated, trying to think, and once more they were separated in the dance. As they rejoined, he said, “None that I can think of. I can milk a cow.”

Rowenna laughed. They led out and back in, turned away, crossed, and then somebody shouldered Thornden roughly aside and reached out to take Rowenna’s hands as she came back again. For one moment, Rowenna and Thornden’s eyes met, Thornden standing outside the circle of dancers, and then they had swept past, and he stood irresolute and without a partner.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna's hands had been captured by Aldric, of all people! She looked to Thornden for help, but he had been surprised by the rude quickness of Aldric, and stood staring. Rowenna clenched her teeth and allowed Aldric his advantage for the duration of the hold. The moment the pattern required him to let go of her hands, she took the chance and walked straight out of the dance. She walked by Thornden, grabbed his arm, and pulled him with her until she came to a stop against a wall, let go of him, turned, faced outward, and crossed her arms in front of her. She was furious and stared icily at Aldric, who had by this time danced his way back to where she should have been and found himself partnerless. He looked around, confused and quickly getting angry.

"Thornden, please keep that oaf away from me!"

[Firefoot]

Scyld winced as Rowenna stalked off the dance floor, hauling Thornden with her. It only now occurred to him that his own chances with Rowenna might be damped if she were in a bad mood. It took Aldric a moment to realize what had happened, but when he did, Scyld could see his shoulders tightening and a scowl crossing his face. He took a step towards Rowenna and Thornden, now standing against the wall, then stopped. He visibly mastered himself, replacing his frown with an almost-charming smile, and sketched a bow in Rowenna's direction. Scyld could not help but admire his aplomb, at least a little. Then he turned on his heel and walked back toward his friends.

Straight to Scyld. He realized it too late to escape, for it was abundantly clear now to him that he would rather not have Rowenna see him with Aldric. “You know something about her,” hissed Aldric. “Something you didn't tell me. That's why you won't approach her yourself.”

“Really, I know very little,” said Scyld, “save that she is strong-willed, and, well, feisty. But that, I think, you have learned for yourself.”

“You have embarrassed me in front of the whole hall.”

Scyld refrained from saying, You have done that yourself. “Folk are drunk and caught up in their own business. They will not care. Now, if you will excuse me...”

But Aldric caught his arm. “I will not forget this.”

Scyld frowned. “I meant you no harm. Do not tell me you have never been turned aside by a woman.” He pulled his arm away and walked off to find some others to mingle with. As he did, he dared to steal a glance at Rowenna...

[littlemanpoet]

To Rowenna's surprise, Aldric managed an ironic smile and a gallant bow, as if he were admitting himself answered. She hoped so. Then he turned on his heel and walked away, back to his cronies. Directly to Nydfara, and an exchange of heated words. Had he goaded Aldric a second time as well?

"Excuse me, Thornden," she said, "it seems I do not need your shielding." She looked him in the eye and put her hand on his arm. "Thank you," she said, smiling, then moved away.

She walked around the dancers, keeping her eye on the two plotters. It appeared that Aldric was angry with Nydfara and had him by the arm, but Nydfara, scowling, shrugged out of Aldric's grip and left him; but not before he cast a look at the place where Thornden stood. Then he cast a quick glance around the room. They locked eyes. She did not let his go but allowed a grim smile. He looked unsmiling away; she made her way to him. When she came up to him, he was looking away from the dance floor, listening to some other of the Riders talking. She stood behind him.

"Nydfara."

[Firefoot]

“Nydfara.”

Scyld froze. A thousand thoughts passed through his mind in that moment as he slowly turned around. He could not read her tone. Was she upset? Angry? Cold? Neutral? Curious? What did she want?

But Scyld was nothing if not quick with words. “Lady Rowenna,” he said, smiling and slipping back to his wonted half-ironic manner. Up close, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. He forced that thought away and bowed slightly. “Allow me to welcome you back to Scarburg.”

[littlemanpoet]

“Allow me to welcome you back to Scarburg,” Nydfara said with a slight, self-possessed bow.

"Thank you. Care to dance?"

She cast her query between invitation and demand. He hesitated just a moment and raised one brow ever so slightly. with an ironic tilt of his head he said, "Delighted."

They walked arm in arm to the edge of the dance floor. Her heart was racing. She hoped he could not feel that in her pulse. The first song was just coming to a close and a new, more martial song, took its place. The couples stood across from each other and took turns stepping side by side, arm in arm, between all the others, standing, until all had passed between the others, then they skipped around in an arc until they came back to their original positions, and repeated the pattern.

The first time stepping arm in arm, neither of them said a word. The second time, Rowenna felt herself ready, but waited until the last moment before they would part and skip in the wide arc away from each other. She spoke lightly.

"I wonder why you goaded Aldric to pester me not once but twice."

Before he had a chance to react at all, they separated. But she was watching his face.

[Firefoot]

Scyld's eyebrow quirked upward. It was not quite the question he expected, but he knew better than to think there was nothing hidden beneath Rowenna's light tone. He was grateful for the moment's reprise as he skipped down the wide arc, though it was hardly helpful for thinking since he also had to give thought to the dance.

Only a woman would ask him to think and dance at the same time! What a set up.

He could hardly tell her the truth: first it had been amusing, and then it had not. But wait – the question was hardly fair, and aimed to put him at the defensive. She could not know exactly what had passed between him and Aldric, and he could use that. The time stretched interminably as the other couples passed through, but soon enough he found himself linked again to Rowenna.

“I hardly goaded him,” said Scyld. “He had his eye on you long before he said aught to me, and would have tried you no matter what I told him. The second time – perhaps I simply wished to dance with you myself.” With that, he again released her, the unspoken challenge in his face: And what do you make of that?

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna could not read Nydfara's expression, there was too much mixed up in it. He was inviting and off-putting at the same time! How exasperating! But he had said that he had wanted to dance with her, or at least suggested it, which was about as much as she could expect from him. What scared her was how good it made her feel.

All this flashed through her mind as she skipped the wide arc and came back to face him again, the gap for the marching dancers still between them. They watched each other, matching each other's movements as the dance called for, and both were smiling. Was he smiling because he enjoyed dancing with her, or because he was pleased with his own wit? And what had he said to Aldric?

They were dancing side by side again.

"Did you try to discourage him so you could have your chance?" she asked teasingly.

[Firefoot]

Scyld could not help but smile as he watched Rowenna. He had played his cards right; he could see the intrigue in her face. She seemed to be enjoying herself, causing him also to relax into both the dance and the conversation.

"Did you try to discourage him so you could have your chance?" she asked him, as they drew back together. Finally, he could read her tone! Teasing, he could handle.

“Indeed,” said Scyld gravely. Then he grinned conspiratorially at her. “But, alas, Aldric does not seem to understand sarcasm.”

[Lhunardawen]

When Thornden swept Rowenna away, Ginna could not help pitying herself a little for being the sole woman of the hall left without a partner. Even Frodides was out there, laughing as she tried to keep up with a young (at least compared to her) rider who was bold enough to ask her to dance. Inside she felt like an unwatered flower that had slowly begun to wilt and wither, but she held herself up and smiled as she watched everyone around her have a good time. Well, everyone except for that man who snatched Rowenna away from Thornden only to be left alone in the middle of the dance floor just as quickly.

The man came to Rowenna and Thornden and graced her with a bow before walking off with his injured pride. As Ginna watched that scene, she recalled how, in their early days in Scarburg when Eodwine was still Eorl, Harreld had once bowed and kissed her hand in response to her offer of a dance. It seemed like a lifetime ago, a memory that was merely familiar but impersonal. Her eyes welled up with tears. But before her vision could be completely obscured, she saw Rowenna again walking towards the dance floor, arm in arm with the third guy for the night.

Ginna no longer bore Rowenna any ill will, but seeing her dancing with so many men while she stood alone watching from the sides was too much for her. If Harreld had really wanted to dance - even just talk - with her, she could not see why he could not have done so already. She started to retreat surreptitiously to the solace of the women's quarters.

[littlemanpoet]

“But, alas, Aldric does not seem to understand sarcasm.”

Rowenna laughed, as much at his words as his expression.

"Then he will never understand you!"

They separated and danced in the wide arc. She had not had so much fun in longer than she could remember. She did not realize that her smile was brighter and bigger than anyone elses' in the room, and onlookers were noticing.

Suddenly it occurred to her, her smile lessening, that she had meant to give him a piece of her mind about goading Aldric, that she had been very angry. Was he telling her the truth?

They were dancing across from each other again, matching each others' moves again, but she was watching him through narrowed eyes, her smile closed and doubting. Then it was their turn and they closed the gap, linked arms, and marched again between the others. She did not speak, not sure whether to accuse or tease him.

[Firefoot]

Scyld did not think he had ever heard a more wonderful sound than Rowenna's laughter. "Then he will never understand you!" she said, and danced away.

And you think she will? asked a niggling voice in the back of his mind.

She could.

But she'd have to know much more about you. Things you can't tell anyone.

She might understand.

You fool! You've played the part of Nydfara too long. You can't trust these people, no matter what Linduial told you!

He looked across to Rowenna and saw his own doubts echoed in her face. She was smiling still, but not so unreservedly as she had been only moments ago. Had she seen through his facade? Of course not. She could not read his thoughts. But what else could be wrong? He had no time to puzzle it out before the dance joined them back together. She did not say anything, though he supposed it was his turn to speak. He was not ready to let go of the teasing mood he had fostered with Rowenna, but he sensed that some part of her wanted soothing. So he said lightly, "Does something bother my lady?"

[littlemanpoet]

"Does something bother my lady?" he asked lightly.

She liked that, in many ways. She did not know that her cheeks gained a little blush as she smiled, watching their feet. She glanced at him.

"I wonder if I can trust you?"

With that they separated. It was a good thing they were dancing, or the emotions she was feeling would overpower her. She was able to keep the smile on her face and her eyes dry; she was even able to keep the heaviness of doubt a little at bay because of the dance. She allowed her eye to scan the onlookers as she tripped through the arc of the pattern. Thornden was watching; she wanted to dance with him again. She came back to face Nydfara. She looked at his feet to match his moves, then glanced at his face, wondering what she would see.

[Firefoot]

She had surprised him again, but this time Scyld was ready with his reply almost immediately. Unfortunately, though, he was forced to wait, and he turned his attention to Rowenna, studying her as they came around to face each other.

He had been so caught up wondering whether he could trust her that he had forgotten about the opposite problem. Could she trust him? Trust him with what?

Sorn had trusted him, in his way, but Scyld had never felt liking or loyalty to Sorn. Linduial, too, had trusted him, though he had always thought her trust misplaced. In the end, he had helped her out of his own self-interest. Trust was foolish, too easy to betray.

That being said, by comparison there was nothing at risk here. No lives hung in the balance (save his, should his part in Linduial's kidnapping be found out). He supposed it might be considered misleading that he was here under an assumed name, but who did not have secrets in their past?

They drew back together, and Scyld said to her, "If I said that you could trust me, would you believe me? For if I was untrustworthy and wished to take you in, would I not still say yes?"

[littlemanpoet]

Thornden clapped Harreld on the shoulder as he passed, saying, “You should ask Ginna, you know, before some other fellow snatches her and you’re left wishing you were he.”

Harreld sighed and stood with his back to the wall. He saw Ginna across the room. No man asked her to dance. It was not surprising since they all knew that he had claim to her, or at least had at one time. He had said very little to anyone about Ginna, and she no doubt had kept quiet about him. All any other folk at Scarburg would know was that the two did not spend much time together. Perhaps they wondered why, but no one asked.

Harreld wished that he could ask Ginna to dance. After the way he had treated her, he felt that he did not deserve to. At least, not until they talked. He had not had a chance to talk to her this day of so much happening surrounding Eiodwine's return.

But the greatest thing surrounding the former eorl's return for Harreld had been their talk. Harreld rehearsed it in his mind as he started walking over the the living quarters.

Eodwine had wanted to know why Harreld felt that he could not take Ginna to wife, and he had explained, marshaling all his Eorling wisdom. Eodwine had been unimpressed. Maybe a father was a daughter's lord by Eorling ways, but Eorling ways were not the last word on who should wed whom, he had said.

"What is?" Harreld had asked, feeling very much out of his depth.

"The eorl of oafs, of course," Eodwine had grinned, but after his joke he had said something that had stuck with Harreld. Sometimes, Eodwine had said, a thing is meant to be against all odds and against all seeming wisdom. How was one to know? One could not ask for another's wisdom. One must weigh one's own heart. Even with this much, Harreld had held himself skeptical, for it sounded like something out of a Gondorian love geste; he had not heard or read any himself, but had heard of the strange things. "What weighs in the balance, Harreld, is whether your heart tells you to take, or to give. What does your heart tell you about Ginna?"

"Did the law of the Eorlings allow, I would give her anything she asked for, wise or foolish. I cannot help it."

Eodwine had smiled. "There you have it. You are meant for each other."

"Are you sure?" he had asked.

"Sure as I am still alive."

Harreld stopped at the door to the women's quarters. How had he known that Ginna would come this way? He hardly knew. It did not matter. As she approached, looking dismally at the floor, she saw his feet and stopped. She looked up at him, her expression sad but questioning.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

[littlemanpoet]

"If I said that you could trust me, would you believe me? For if I was untrustworthy and wished to take you in, would I not still say yes?"

She watched his eyes for a moment before they separated. It had been a confusing thing he had said. Was that on purpose? Of course, it was: this was Nydfara. She puzzled over it as they danced the arc, and still more as they mirrored opposite each other. It was only just before they linked again that her mind grabbed hold of the key to his words - would I not still say yes? So he was saying 'yes', but in a way that cautioned her. Why the cautioning? That must remain a mystery for now. The song was ending.

"I suppose I shall have to be satisfied with that for now," she replied. They walked side by side to the edge of the dance floor.

Eodwine had come back with his harp and joined the players. They called for a solo.

"My fingers are not so nimble," he demurred, but they insisted. "A slow one, then."

He began a tune they all knew. It was slow but full in plucked harmony. It was a song of sorrow, much lost and little gained. She knew that its ending held a mix of bittersweetness and hope.

She did not know what to think of Nydfara. She was intrigued. There was a hardness to him, and a mystery. She stole a glance at his eyes. Did she detect sorrow in them? She was not sure. He glanced at her and she looked away quickly, realizing perhaps too late that she had allowed a wish to show on her face. She folded her hands in front of her and looked at the floor until the song ended.

[Folwren]

Quin and Léof sat side by side, leaning back against a table while they watched the dancing and commented on what transpired. They critiqued various men’s dancing skills, praised how well the women danced, and remarked upon Frodides' ability and lightness of step. And of course they noted and discussed in depth Aldric’s interruption of Rowenna’s and Thornden’s dance and what followed. Their eyes trailed after Rowenna and Nydfara during the reel.

“They make a good pair, don’t you think?” Quin said towards the end of the dance. He watched while they walked from the floor together, and then stood side by side while Eodwine played his harp. His eyes lingered on the two of them, scarcely listening to the song Eodwine played. He did not care that Léof could easily see where he was looking, and when Eodwine finished, and people had applauded quietly for the song, he drew a sigh and said,

“I wish she’d ask me to dance, like she did Nydfara, ‘cause I’m not going to ask her.”

[Firefoot]

Scyld

Scyld was puzzled by Rowenna's response. It was as if she had expected him to say yes. Or maybe not expected, but hoped? Why? Why would she think that? Why would she want to trust him, or think she could trust him? She knew nothing about him! He had thought she was like him, knowing what the world truly held: pain and heartache and cruelty.

So why did she seem so disappointed? Or was it embarrassment, that had her staring down at her feet? Where had this conversation gone wrong? Scyld was beginning to realize that, for once, he was far out of his league. He was so used to manipulating and using people, to baiting and charming them with a haphazard mix of truth and lies. That was easy, a game he could play in his sleep.

But it was just that. A game. Maybe it was time to let the game go.

But what would be left of him? Would he remain Nydfara forever? Plain, boring, normal Nydfara. Even that was a farce. Just part of the game.

Games were supposed to have winners and losers. Scyld had always thought of himself as the winner and everyone else, losers. But maybe this game didn't have anyone but losers.

The song was drawing to a close. Scyld hadn't heard a single note of it, but he clapped along with the rest of the hall. Rowenna was still determinedly not looking at him, but he spoke to her anyway. “And you, Rowenna?” She turned her head. “Do you think that I could trust you?”

~*~*~*~

Léof

Léof laughed. “I reckon that's pretty smart,” he said. “She's bold as any man, and she's got some pretty strong, well, womanly wiles on top of that.” He didn't remember where he'd heard the term before, but it certainly seemed to fit. “Once, she got Lord Eodwine to loan her his horse for a race that I could've sworn he planned to ride in himself. She wouldn't settle for one of the hall horses – she had to have the best one in the stable. I still don't know how she did it.”

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine finished the song. The hall was silent. One could have heard a leaf drop. Then applause broke out. Rowenna clapped half heartedly.

“And you, Rowenna?” Nydfara was talking. She looked up at him. “Do you think that I could trust you?”

She hesitated. After his hedging answer, what could she say that he would believe? And then she knew what her answer had to be.

"Would you believe me if I said no? Or yes?"

[littlemanpoet]

"Can we talk?"

Ginna's heart raced. She had missed Harreld terribly. But their last conversation had left her wounded, and she was afraid that what he had to say would only inflict more pain. There was no use delaying the inevitable, however.

"Yes, Harreld. But not here. Lead the way."

Harreld had not considered that this place would not be good for talking. He searched his thought quickly to think of where.

"'Tis cold outside. The smithy?"

She nodded. They made their way, he leading. It felt strange. Why did she want to walk behind him? He slowed down. She walked slower. He sighed. What was wrong? No, he would not become irritable. Their last talk had been very painful and she might not want to talk to him much at all. Perhaps he had been foolish to think she would want to talk to him at all. It was too late now. He opened the smithy door for her and she walked through into the dark warmth. The oven was always on, so there was a little light, but not enough for him to tell anything from her expression.

The smithy was delightfully warm, in contrast to the cold air outside. But it had changed since the last time she had entered it. There were more tools now. Garreth's. Ginna realised that the last time she had spoken to Harreld was also in this very same place. And again, like before, she remained silent as she sat down, letting him to speak first.

She sat down and said nothing. Well, he was the one who had wanted to talk.

"Eodwine and I talked about you and me. I hope you don't mind?"

She shook her head no.

"He reminded me of Eomer's disobedience to King Theoden, and that Eomer had been right. Then Eodwine said that I should weigh my heart, whether my aim with you is in taking, or in giving."

Harreld paused. He had come to the brink of his word. He found it hard to say more, and did not know why. Now that he thought about it, he admitted to himself that he had much to gain by taking her to wife. Or was she ready to be done with him?

"I would give you anything you ask. If you'll have me."

[Firefoot]

Scyld smirked and inclined his head in acknowledgment of Rowenna's riposte. Fairly spoken.

“Perhaps,” he replied, not looking directly at her but across the dance floor at the others there, “my trust has nothing to do with whatever answer you might give to my question.” He paused to let her think on that for a moment, but spoke again before she could reply. “And perhaps, it depends upon what you mean by trust.” He faced her and gestured out at the wider hall. “Who do you trust? Eodwine? Saeryn? Her brother Degas? But do you still keep secrets from them? Or perhaps you do not trust them, though a more generous lot I have never met, because you, like me, know that trust is not cheap. And perhaps, the real question you should be asking is not whether you can trust me, but what you can trust me with, and why you would wish to do so.”

Finally Scyld broke off; he could not remember the last time he had strung so many words together at once, for usually he preferred to listen than speak, to learn others' viewpoints and keep his own counsel. Now, though, intensity burned in his normally cool and distant gaze, and he found that he very much wanted for Rowenna to understand.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna did not know some of the words Nydfara used as he gazed out over the crowd; they sounded Gondorian. But she thought she got the gist of his meaning: maybe it would not matter whether she said yes or no to whether he could trust her? As if it did not depend on her answer at all? He spoke again before she could follow that thread of thought any further.

“And perhaps, it depends upon what you mean by trust." He looked down at her and said more than she had ever heard from him. They were wise words, which suggested that they had been dearly bought. "...what you can trust me with, and why you would wish to do so?”

His eyes were on fire in a way she had never seen before. This meant more to him than most things he had said. Her heart's pace quickened. She would not have wanted to tear her eyes away from his had she realized that she was gazing at them with such rapt attention. She was on the verge of spilling out her soul in words she might regret. It scared her more than anything had in a long, long time. She blinked and looked away from him and stared unseeing across the dance floor before answering.

"Oh, I suppose I was thinking of the story of my past, though that is no secret. You have probably heard somewhat of it already."

[Folwren]

“Once, she got Lord Eodwine to loan her his horse for a race that I could've sworn he planned to ride in himself. She wouldn't settle for one of the hall horses – she had to have the best one in the stable. I still don't know how she did it.”

Quin’s eyes opened wide. “He lent her his horse for a race?” he repeated. In Rohan, a man’s horse was more to him than just a beast of burden. Eorlingas cared for and loved their horses. There were close and personal friendships between man and beast, and for the eorl of the hall to give his horse to a woman to ride in his place was something Quin had never imagined possible. It certainly said something about her ‘womanly wiles’, as Léof so aptly put it and it made Quin admire her more, though it did not lend him courage to go ask her for the next dance.

The musicians began to play another lively, exciting tune that fairly pulled the people back out to dance. Quin shot a glance around the room. “There is Kara, yet unasked, I shall-” he stopped short even as he rose, and watched as another rider offered his hand to Kara. Léof laughed at the consternation on Quin’s face.

“Never mind,” Quin said, half crossly. “I shall go and seek out Tyrdda. I haven’t seen her in the hall since they were serving dinner, so I doubt she has a partner.”

[Folwren]

Thornden watched Rowenna and Nydfara with no little amusement. He guessed her purpose in asking Nydfara to dance, and he waited with some anticipation to see the sparks fly. But they didn’t. With surprise, he realized that Nydfara had somehow skillfully averted Rowenna’s anger and they danced not only with politeness but with pleasure! Thornden moved to gain a close and clearer standpoint where he could observe them both during the dance.

There was some chemistry between the two of them that he did not understand. The nature of the dance allowed only brief snatches of conversation and then the partners were split: each time Nydfara and Rowenna parted ways, their faces held new expressions. Thornden followed them like an audience member watching a mute play. He saw them frown thoughtfully, smile with pleasure, cast each other quizzical, doubting looks, and - in her face - questioning and bashfulness. Was Nydfara wooing her?

Throughout the solo that Eodwine played, Thornden watched them standing side by side. From some feet away, he studied her face. Her eyes were downcast, but he could tell her thoughts were racing. Then he looked at Nydfara. He could not read this man at all. Although Nydfara had been here many months, Thornden did not know him well. Nydfara kept to himself and never got in anyone’s way. Up until this moment, Thornden had never found reason to notice Nydfara. Now that he did notice him, he didn’t know what he thought of him. It mattered not. Thornden resolved he would wait and see how matters unfolded between Nydfara and Rowenna, and hence forward he would get to know Nydfara better.

When Eodwine’s song ended and the next dance tune began, Thornden went to lady Saeryn who sat near to where Eodwine played his harp with the other musicians.

“Will you dance with me, lady?” he asked.

Saeryn looked up, surprised at being asked. She had expected everyone to forget her and let her sit by Eodwine, and she would have been happy with that. But Thornden’s request was welcome to her, and she immediately reached up to accept his hand and he led her to the dance floor.

[Firefoot]

Scyld was instantly intrigued. Here it was: the very story that had proved most elusive to him since his coming, and it was being freely offered to him. Forgotten for now was trust; the quest for information and knowledge was an instinct far more deeply instilled in his mind.

“As you say,” said Scyld. “But the little I know can hardly be anywhere near the full story. I had heard you were rescued from bandits after living among them for some time. But of how you came to live there, and of any details, I have heard naught.”

[Firefoot]

Léof grinned, half sympathetic and half teasing, and stood up.

“I suppose I must come with you, to make sure you actually win this fair lady's hand!” he said. And then he'd start looking for a dance partner of his own. He was friendly with nearly all the women of the hall; it should not be that hard... it was all these extra riders. Why hadn't they brought any womenfolk of their own with them?

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna looked at him, allowing a thin smile.

With half closed eyes she said, "I will tell you my story - but not here and now - in exchange for your own. Do we have a deal?"

[Folwren]

"What!" Quin said, looking at Léof sidelong as they walked side by side. "You don't think I could win her hand? Win her hand? I just want to dance with her, not marry her."

He stopped, on second thought and laid hand on Léof's shoulder. "Perhaps you'd better stay behind and let me go out myself." He did not say why - that he thought he ran the risk of Tyrdda preferring Léof to him for a dance.

[Firefoot]

Scyld ought to have seen the request coming, long since. She'd been playing him, with all this talk of trust; his story was what she really wanted. And if she was willing to offer hers first, could she really have anything to hide?

“You drive a hard deal,” Scyld said, trying to buy some extra time. She just continued to give him that cryptic, half-lidded look. What a woman. But he was not sure that her story was worth his own. He had been lulled to near-complacency, but he could not forget the value of his own secrets, nor how dangerous Rowenna might be. He did not know her motives, yet, though he suspected that she had more than one, and he did not know what she would do with the information he gave her.

He could always lie.

Or just leave things out.

“Not here or now,” he agreed finally. “Deal.”

[littlemanpoet]

She had reason to watch his face and his eyes.

“You drive a hard deal.”

She could just about see the thoughts, like a stallion galloping headlong across the fields and stopping suddenly at the edge of marshland, picking its way carefully, stepping back and forth looking for firm footing. She watched the flame go out of his eyes and his expression harden.

What did she think she was doing? Surely she could not trust this man. Why were they even talking and dancing? She could sense the danger in him like a snake waiting patiently in its lair.

“Not here or now,” he said. “Deal.”

"Very well. I will come to you when I am ready. Good night."

More like if, she thought as she turned her back on him and walked away. She needed a new partner to dance with, and right away. She looked for Thornden only to discover that he was dancing with Saeryn. There seemed to be a bit of familiarity between the two of them. She wondered what Eodwine thought of that, if he even noticed?

Ah, there was a likely fellow, Léof. He looked a little lost. This one she could handle.

"Léof! Dance with me?"

[Firefoot]

“Perhaps you'd better stay behind and let me go out myself,” said Quin.

“Oh. Ah, sure,” said Léof, taken off guard. Perhaps Quin didn't want Tyrdda to think he needed moral support just to ask a girl to dance. That must be it. “Whatever you want.”

Quin smiled. “Thanks,” he said, and went off to find Tyrdda, leaving Léof at something of a loss standing there. He looked around, either for a girl to ask to dance (he was skeptical of finding one available), or for someone else to talk to (a more likely prospect). As he turned, he was startled to see Rowenna heading straight for him.

“Léof! Dance with me?” she asked.

He recovered his manners quickly. “I would be honored,” he said politely, and offered her his hand. Inside, however, his thoughts were racing. Why on earth had she picked on him? What was Quin going to think? What about Nydfara over there? He glanced briefly over her shoulder and saw Nydfara watching him. Just ignore him... Léof couldn't help feeling a little triumphant at that, after how Nydfara had needled him this morning. Léof knew, too, that he was a better dancer than Nydfara. So there.

The song was both familiar and lively, and Léof quickly found the beat as he led Rowenna onto the dance floor, stepping and spinning in time. He hadn't the slightest idea of what to say to her, but he decided that was just fine: she had asked him to dance; let her think of something.

[littlemanpoet]

Léof could dance! Rowenna was impressed. It came as naturally to him, it seemed, as being around horses. He seemed to be enjoying himself. He did seem a bit young, but Rowenna reminded herself that she was still quite young herself. It was just that she had had a much tougher life than he. Well, maybe not. She did not know about his life. Why was he, so young, on his own, away from his family? It was something to turn the conversation to at some point.

"I wonder what an ostler's point of view is on all the goings on around here?"

[Firefoot]

"I wonder what an ostler's point of view is on all the goings on around here?"

Had Nydfara put her up to this? Leof immediately wondered as Rowenna spun away from him and then back. No, probably not; he already knows what I think, like everyone else here who cares to know…

“As an ostler? The horses still need feeding and turning out,” Leof said, grinning. “But I am very glad of Eodwine’s recovery and return, of course. Otherwise I find my opinions either overlooked or unappreciated.”

[littlemanpoet]

Léof's grin seemed to belie something simmering in the kettle, as it were. She spun away again considering his last words, of having opinions, and them being more or less ignored. She came back to him. He was taller than he often seemed, maybe because there were no horses around to make him seem short.

"So you have opinions? Tell me one!" she grinned.

[Folwren]

Quin felt just a bit sheepish after asking Léof to stay inside. Indeed, if Léof had objected or said a word about going, Quin would have changed his mind and told him to come along anyway. But Léof didn’t say anything. He just stood there, and he was still standing there when Quin looked back from the kitchen door. He felt another twinge of guilt about asking Léof to stay, but ignored it and went into the kitchen.

The room was empty. He walked across to the outer door and opened it to go out and nearly ran directly into the young woman whom he sought. She was not alone, though, as he expected – Hilderinc was there talking to her.

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” he said. “I didn’t know you were out here. I mean, I didn’t know you both were out here talking. Did you know they’re dancing inside?”

[littlemanpoet]

Ginna did not respond immediately. She was watching him. It made him nervous. Finally she spoke.

"Are you sure this is what you want? What changed since the last time we talked?"

He suddenly realized that he had just proposed marriage. He felt embarrassed, could feel his face heat up. He was glad it was not too light or she would see how red his face was. But maybe she could anyway. And what of that? Was not she going to be his wife? Well, maybe not. She had asked a question. What had she asked? He had forgotten in his sudden rush of thoughts.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"Is this what you really want, Harreld? I wouldn't have you going into - into this, riddled with doubts. Or has something changed since we last talked about this?"

"Ah," he smiled. "Nothing has changed since we last talked, except my mind. I would spend all my days with you and none other." He paused, reading what looked like doubt in her face. "But what of you? Have you ... had a change of ... heart?"

Ginna ignored his question, for the meantime. She had a more pressing one of her own.

"And what of my father? How would you deal with his..." She looked away, letting the sentence trail. She did not want to say disapproval but did not know what word would suffice.

"His refusal? As Eomer, I suppose, though I do not think your father could put me under house arrest for taking you to wife, but he could disown you. 'Twould seem the question is yours to answer more than it is mine. What would you do?"

"I do not know," she said with a sigh. "I do not think it would come to that, but if it does..." Ginna stood and looked steadily into his eyes. She came closer.

"The one thing I do know is that my heart has not changed. And it will not. But if my father were to disown me, would you still have me?"

"Aye, I would have you, and keep you, until death parts us."

He stepped closer and wrapped her in his arms.

"No more doubts, Ginna. We will do this together, yes?"

Ginna said nothing, choosing instead to return Harreld's embrace. She did not know how many seconds, minutes, or hours they had stayed that way when a thought came to her.

"Harreld?"

"Yes, my love?"

Ginna smiled. It had always pleased her to hear him address her so.

"How shall we tell them?"

"Instead of telling them just yet, what do you say to going in to dance. Let them all see and make of it what they like." He winked, grinning. "Just a wee bit of mischief, I suppose."

"That's a wonderful idea." Ginna pulled away and looped an arm around Harreld's. "Well then, shall we?"

He looked down at her with as winning a smile as he could manage. "Yes, we shall."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc and Tyrdda's conversation was suddenly interrupted by Quin literally almost running into them from the kitchen.

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” he said. “I didn’t know you were out here. I mean, I didn’t know you both were out here talking. Did you know they’re dancing inside?”

Hilderinc turned towards the main door to the Hall. “Dancing?” he asked, surprised.

“You are saying the word as if you didn't know what it means,” Tyrdda said.

Hilderinc shook his head, for the second time lately a hint of a smile appearing on his face.

“I do, but I haven't danced much for... well, let's say, most of the places I have been staying in lately did not offer such kind of entertainment very often,” he said. “Like before I came to Athanar's service, I had served commander Wintearn at Wold, we were a company of thirty men – no women; and most of the time our home had been only a tent camp in the plains...”

He almost smiled again when he remembered at least one instance when the men had been dancing there: but it was the dance of the Riders, and on top of that, most of them had been drinking before; it was on a cold, winter night, not unlike today.

“Maybe we could go inside, then,” he said. “It is getting really cold out here, isn't it?” He turned to Tyrdda. “Shall we join the others?”

Hilderinc did not really mean it as an invitation to dance, but he did not think about how it might have sounded to Tyrdda – or Quin. He stood up, then looked at the young Rider.

“But what are you doing here, if they are dancing inside?” he nodded towards the Hall.

[Folwren]

“Well,” Quin stammered, “I had been looking for Tyrdda here. I had no idea. . .” He looked from Hilderinc to Tyrdda. Hilderinc hadn’t even known there was a dance going on and he still got a dancing partner before Quin. He grinned drily, trying to put a cheerful face on it. “Well, perhaps I can have the next dance, then,” he said, with little conviction.

They went into the hall through the main doors. Hilderinc led Tyrdda towards the dancers, and Quin slunk back to where he had sat with Léof. He expected erroneously to find Léof there waiting for him. Surprised, Quin looked around for his friend, and then spotted him, dancing with Rowenna.

Quin’s mouth gaped a moment before he could recover himself. He sat down, shut his mouth, and looked away, and he laughed at himself. “Haha! Afraid he might steal Tyrdda from you?” he chuckled, the humor building. “Some people just get all the luck. Well, I’ll have the next dance with Tyrdda, see if I won’t!”

[Firefoot]

Léof had begun to enjoy himself very much; he’d forgotten just how much he enjoyed dancing, and Rowenna was a fine partner.

“So you have opinions? Tell me one!” she said.

Gratified at her interest and already forgetting his caution to Quin about Rowenna’s “womanly wiles,” Léof said, “Well, I think that most of Athanar’s soldiers think far too highly of themselves. And until you asked me to dance, I was also thinking that they were getting all of the women to dance with, which is hardly fair since they didn’t bring any of their own.”