Scarburg Meadhall

[Folwren]

The questions were obvious in Leof's face as he looked keenly at Thornden. But, thankfully, Thornden's invitation seemed to drive those questions from his mind.

"Yes, actually, I would. What would you have me do?"

"Saddle your horse. And then wait for us here while we search the place. We'll be back for our horses before going out towards the marshes. We'll split into two groups once we reach them and there I'll give further instructions." He turned as he finished and then stopped and turned again. Leof was already walking off to get his horse. "If you like, you can make certain no one is hiding in the stables and all," he said. It sounded ridiculous, and he knew Leof knew it. Of course they weren't skulking in the stables. Leof knew as well as he did that they weren't anywhere near Scarburg.

Without waiting to see it on Leof's face or hear him ask a single question, he turned and strode away.

"You two," he said indicating two men, "check the kitchen and the smithy. You four, check the great hall and all the sleeping quarters." He continued to partition his men and send them off until they all had someplace to search.

[Durelin]

The riders started out heading south east, cutting across the flatlands to the road toward Tancred and Faramund. They searched for any signs of the riders and stopped briefly every few miles if they came upon a farm house or traveler to inquire about one or two fast riders, a tanner and possibly a soldier... There search was turning up nothing, and Coen grumbled and cursed to himself that they had not gone this way. But he would never dare to criticize his lord, even speaking to himself. No, it was not a matter of having more riders covering different areas...it was simply that he had not acted quickly enough; or rather, he had not kept track of his men well enough. And he had not kept his eye on those two troubled men. What had he told himself? That Lithor was dangerous, and it was to be watched what company he kept.

The party was small, but Coen still sent out two men as if they were scouts serving a larger train. One road ahead periodically and reported back, the other might cut to the east or west a ways beside the road and loop around back to the road. Both men were good trackers, and the latter was one of the locals who knew the land well. Neither was to stop and ask questions of anyone unless there was some other sign that indicated the men had been that way. The main party then was slower going, as it periodically stopped to inquire about Erbrand and Lithor.

The front rider came back at a gallop, having just reported only a couple minutes before. Coen brought the party to a halt in confusion as the man approached. "I just watched two men or something disappear into the woods from the side of the road," the man reported ineloquently.

"Then why did you come back here rather than pursue them?" Coen asked angrily, letting his frustration get the best of him.

"Er...the brush is too thick for riding sir. I...thought it best to... If it is them...I mean...two against one..."

Coen sighed. "Forgive me, you are right. But we've already wasted enough time."

With a shout the riders took off at a gallop until the scout signaled that they were getting close. They then slowed to a trot, Coen at the head of the party with the scout, who slowed to a stop and nodded toward the woods to the east of the road.

Coen dismounted and took his sword from his gear to put on his belt and the rest followed suit. He indicated a man to stay behind with the horses, and then prepared to make his way through the brush carefully and as quietly as he could, searching for signs on the way. But he already saw clearly that someone, or likely more than one person, had clumsily plunged into the forest from the road. Coen fingered his sword's pommel.

"Sir," he heard a voice behind him a little louder than a whisper. Coen did not turn around. What was this fool doing? He was talking loud enough for anyone within a hundred meters to hear him! "Sir, above us."

The Captain stopped dead and looked up into the branches of the tree before him. The first thing he saw was a set of shoed feet, and then the body of a boy...and then another...and another. Three boys perched in the branches like birds. Coen's hands dropped to his side and he sighed.

"You two get down from that tree before we shake you down," he shouted, grimacing as he suddenly realized that he had a headache since the morning's drills.

[Firefoot]

As Léof was preparing Æthel for riding, a voice spoke up behind him. “You don’t expect to find the fugitives here, do you.”

“What?” Léof spun around to find Nydfara standing there. Léof knew that Nydfara had no horse, and so likely had no business in the stable. He also did not think that the question the other man had asked was any of his business. “I mean, what makes you think that?”

“It was plain enough to see that you looked puzzled after Thornden called after you to inspect the stables. And since coming in here, you have not looked for them.”

Léof scowled at him. “So you’re both eavesdropping and spying on me.”

“Say rather that I keep my eyes and ears open. Nor have you yet answered my question,” said Nydfara.

“And why should I?” asked Léof stubbornly. He had previously known Nydfara to be a hard-working if fairly aloof sort of man, even at times pleasant, but this was absurd.

Sensing Léof’s mood, Nydfara put up his hands placatingly. “I mean no offense, yet I find your response to Thornden’s orders odd. One might think that you were trying to aid the fugitives, rather than find them. And that would be more than odd. It would be treasonous.”

“What! You’re mad!” cried Léof, loudly enough that Æthel snorted and stomped her foot. He lowered his voice. “I did not even know what had happened until ten minutes ago, and am now going out to search. What are you doing to help, other than searching for conspiracies where there are none?”

“I would not be so sure of that. I ask you again: why did you not think to find the fugitives in the stables?”

“If you must know, their horses are not in their stalls,” said Léof, frustrated and wanting nothing more to do with Nydfara. “Erbrand and Lithor left with them some time ago.”

“And you did not try to stop them?” asked Nydfara. “Or tell anyone?”

“I did not know they had done anything wrong! I already told you that. Nor is it my practice to interrogate everyone who comes into the stable and leaves with his own horse. There is nothing here for you to report about me, if that’s what you’re after. I’ve already told Thornden what I know. Now, I would kindly ask you to leave, for I have nothing left to say to you.”

“Not so kindly, I think,” said Nydfara. “But as you wish.” He bowed slightly and left the stable.

“I wonder what that was about,” he muttered irritably as he turned back to the care of his horse. Perhaps it had been a jest (albeit an odd one). Or maybe there was some darker purpose – maybe Nydfara had actually been the one helping the fugitives, and he was trying to blame someone else. No, that made little sense. Lithor and Erbrand hadn’t needed any help; when they left, no one knew there was a problem. Right?

~*~*~*~

Nydfara, or Scyld, as he had once been known, smiled slightly to himself as he left the stable. That had been too easy, and more fun than he had expected. It had been so long since he had needed to manipulate information out of anyone that he feared he was growing rusty. Léof had been almost laughably easy to needle and, for as reluctant as he had initially been to speak, he had confirmed all that Nydfara wanted to know from him.

What he would do with the information was the question. He did not yet have proof of anything, but he, like Léof, was skeptical of the plans for the search parties. Searching the grounds and the marshes seemed a waste of resources, when the fugitives had taken off on horseback. He knew from experience that the scar was no terrain for riders, and the marshes were at least as bad. So why not instead send out more groups such as Coenred’s?

Thornden was an intelligent man. Nydfara could not speak for Athanor or Coenred, and them he could suppose were acting on misinformation. But since Léof had shared his knowledge with Thornden, if they did indeed continue on their current plan, Nydfara would indeed be suspicious. Perhaps Thornden had not directly aided them, but he also did not seem eager to catch them. Nydfara had observed his friendship with them, and he had no doubt that Athanor would want to know that his new officer had placed friendship over law.

Nor was Nydfara above wanting to curry favor with the new lord. It seemed that Athanor had few enough allies among the old crowd here. He did not know why, exactly; Eodwine did not seem likely to return. Anyway, one lord was much the same as another to him, and none were to be trusted.

And yet – if he shared these suspicions he had, he would be far more likely to make enemies of Thornden, Léof, and others than to make friends with Athanor. In fact, if his suspicions were wrong, he may just be labeled as a troublemaker (and an eavesdropper and a spy, as Léof had pointed out). He would have to think about it, and make his move, if he made one at all, sometime after Thornden left with his search party.

[Folwren]

"You two get down from that tree before we shake you down!" the captain of the guard shouted. Javan blinked in surprised. Coenred seemed very upset about something and quite honestly, Javan did not feel like going down if the captain was in a bad mood.

"But there are three of us," he observed without moving.

"Then all of you, get down!"

Javan looked at his two companions, pressed his lips together resolvedly, and bent down to grasp the treebranch. He swung his legs down and dropped to the ground just before Captain Coenred. Cnebba and Garmund landed behind him.

"Well?" Javan asked. "We're not the ones you're looking for. Hadn't you better keep searching? We were only coming out to watch."

[Durelin]

When the boys jumped down from the tree, Coen recognized the apparently lead boy as the one who had gotten into a fight -- a physical fight -- with Aedre. This boy needed some paddling, dearly. Fighting with a girl, and with a real smart mouth on him...

"Do you have respect for anyone, boy?" he asked, almost growling. He preferred disciplining a soldier with his head in the wrong place any day to dealing with a brat...much less three of them. They wanted to watch? Watch smugly while two criminals escaped judgment, responsibility?

Coen knew how these more backwater places could be all too prideful about their communities, but there was something just...off about Scarburg folks, he swore it. All he had seen so far were brash words, mad men, and liars. He had that young man Thornden had a good head on his shoulders, but now he had apparently seen his true colors. He respected the Lady Saeryn but would respect her more if she didn't have so many hounds guarding her apparent interests.

"Fearghall," he called to one of his men. "Take these boys back to the Hall. String 'em up and drag them along behind you if you have to," he remarked. He knew Fearghall had enough sense not to take Coen seriously on his suggestion, even if the Captain was tempted. "This is no spectacle," he grumbled.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

After Thornden gave them the orders to secure the area around Scarburg, Hilderinc could see that many men among those who were given this task - especially those of Athanar's household - obviously seemed to consider their mission the dullest possible of all. One or two gazed enviously at Coen's party riding away. Hilderinc only shook his head slightly. Yesterday evening, many of those now craving for excitement were apalled at the idea of going to the drills in the morning. How easily did the mood of soldiers change. Of course, there were mixed feelings for many: among Athanar's men, there were also those for whom Scyrr was a friend, even though there were not too many. Most, however, were just keen to bring to justice the man who attacked one of "them" - once again the division between "old" and "new" Scarburgians seemed to manifest itself, this time in the personified form of Erbrand and Lithor. Lithor - the fool who had managed to insult the newcomers yesterday by calling them "guests". In some way, the fact that just these two have disappeared at the same time did not come to Hilderinc as a surprise when he heard Coen's words. And despite what Thornden tried to tell him, the image of local troublemakers seemed to get clearer in his mind.

It was curious that Thornden had defended Erbrand so ferociously - but in a way, Hilderinc could understand. Perhaps there was a kind of defense of the "old" Scarburgians, perhaps Thornden had tried to prevent Hilderinc from thinking badly about all of lord Eodwine's men, now that the issue threatened to awaken again. But Hilderinc was not the one to throw all hay into the same bag. Quite the opposite - the two fugitives seemed to be the prime example of those trying to ride against the wind while it was the least favourable. Inside, Hilderinc felt some calming pleasure in that his assumptions regarding Lithor as an incorrigible troublemaker and Erbrand as an impetuous brawler proved to be correct. These two obviously represented the most extreme of the old squad - their deed only has proved it.

There was still a hint of doubt inside Hilderinc, however. Something kept telling him that Thornden was really very plain in trying to prove that Erbrand was not a "witless brawler", as he had put it. And Thornden did not seem like a person who would act irrationally or too emotionally - no good leader would, in Hilderinc's book.

As he was passing through the courtyard, however, he bumped into somebody who did not seem unemotional at all: Áforglaed. Young Quin was with him, but looked rather noteless next to Áforglaed. Perhaps during all his time under lord Athanar's command Hilderinc had not seen the soldier so obviously irritated. No wonder, if there was somebody who could be considered Scyrr's friend, it would be Áforglaed. Hilderinc was quite sure that if Erbrand now appeared out of nowhere in front of them, Áforglaed would waste no time to attack him personally - and, he reminded himself, these two have also fought each other the day before. But Hilderinc certainly did not think that being in such a mood was good for Áforglaed.

"Any news?" he asked when the soldiers approached him. Áforglaed shook his head.

"I think they have fled," he said with anger apparent in his voice. "What is that Thornden doing, keeping us here? It is obvious that them traitors are not coming back-"

"We have to be sure," Hilderinc said calmly, looking also at Quin and bearing in mind that he should not let the young soldier be disturbed by Áforglaed's emotions. "Especially as there is two of them. Lithor might be just around here..."

"He is of no concern to me," said Áforglaed. Hilderinc could not help himself and raised eyebrows in surprise. This was really a bit different Áforglaed.

"Lord Athanar will see to that Erbrand is brought to justice," Hilderinc said after a while. "Don't worry about it. Has anyone been to the kitchens yet? No? Somebody should also report to Thornden how our search is going, even though there is nothing to report." He pointed towards the stables.

[Folwren]

There really was nothing to report. Individuals from all the small parties that Thornden had split up came trickling back thim. He nodded and sent out word that everyone should rejoin at the stables and mount up. In a matter of minutes, they were all mounted in the saddle. Leof rode some way behind Thornden, next to Quin and another soldier. Hilderinc rode at Thornden's right hand, and a soldier named Áforglaed rode on his left.

Áforglaed's horse pranced and jogged nervously in place. Thornden glanced towards horse and rider. "What are you so anxious for, sir?" Thornden asked sharply. He knew at once when a rider was excited and therefore made a horse so. The horse's reins were taught, but Áforglaed's body was a rigid as a board and his heels were pressed firmly against his horse's side, and the horse fairly frothed at the bit to be given free rein. "Cool your head. There will be no killing, is that clear?"

Javan

Javan frowned. He did have respect, where respect was due, and he had not been fully disrespectful, even to this man, although he had been disrespectful to the boys, first. It wrankled under Javan's skin to be spoken to thus by this new captain, and to be referred to so roughly. He would not be bound, and though Coenred really didn't mean it, he would not be made sport of.

"I don't want to go back," Javan stated, looking Coenred straight in the eye. "This may not be a spectacle, but we haven't made it one, and you have not the right to send me back if I don't want to go. I will stay here. We're doing you no harm. Besides, if you use a man to drag us back, you'll be down one soldier, and how will that help you?"

[Firefoot]

As the company mounted and set off, Léof found himself riding next to a soldier whom he guessed was only a couple years older than him. He did not remember having seen him before, though that was unsurprising – there were a lot of new faces at Scarburg now. In fact, he realized that he was unsure of the names of most of the soldiers in their company. He frowned, trying to remember. The soldiers with Thornden were Hild… Hild something, and the other one’s name started with an E. Or an A. The point was, these soldiers seemed to keep to themselves, and even if any of them had needed something from him in the stables, they hadn’t much bothered with names.

Well, that was no good. He turned to the soldier next to him and offered: “My name is Léof.” The soldier replied that his name was Quin, and Léof realized that he wasn’t quite sure where to go from there. “So, ah, what were you doing before you came here?” He asked. “Have you served with Athanar for very long?”

[Folwren]

Léof’s simple extension of friendship put Quin more at ease than he had been ever since he arrived. He drew a breath and cast a sidelong glance at Léof, studying him for the first time. He looked like a nice fellow, and now he was looking at him, not with a hard intimidating look, but kindly and openly.

“I’ve been with Lord Athanar for eight years,” Quin answered. “At the beginning of my eleventh summer I was sent to him as a paige, and I have stayed with him ever since. I became a man-at-arms only just last year. It’s something of a step for me.” He ventured a smile.

“Will you answer me something? I’ll let you ask anything in return, and I hope you do not think ill of me for asking this.” Léof nodded, indicating he continue. “What sort of man…I mean…is Erbrand safe? Thornden there requires that we not kill anyone, but what if Erbrand attacks us? I ask you because I figure you know something of him.”

[Firefoot]

“I do not think you need fear Erbrand. If I thought this would come to a fight, I probably would not have come for I would be near useless in a real attack,” replied Léof. “Erbrand may be argumentative at times, and act without thinking, but beneath that he really is a decent sort. He cared well for his horse, and even made me this saddle that I’m using as a gift, though he said it was thanks for my care of his horse.

“I might ask you a similar question,” he continued. “What sort of man is your lord? What sort of punishment do you think he would judge fit for Erbrand, were he to be found and brought back?” Léof abruptly recalled Nydfara’s odd and annoying questions back in the stables. “And how might he deal with anyone who helped him?”

[Folwren]

Léof’s answer of Erbrand did not sound bad. Quin began to think that perhaps the tanner was not quite so evil after all. He wanted to think good of these people here, and he certainly believed that Scyrr could have easily provoked Erbrand to fight, if his temper was known to flair easily.

But the questions concerning lord Athanar caused Quin to think soberly for a moment. “Lord Athanar is a fair man, but he does not have a great deal of tolerance for reckless or undisciplined behavior. I do not know for a certainty, but I think my lord believes that Erbrand attempted to kill Scyrr and then ran because he knew his act to be wrong. By the law, Erbrand is subject to death if he had killed Scyrr. Since he did not kill him, quite, Athanar may be lenient on him and not execute him. He may order him to be branded, or one hand cut off.” He paused. “I am not sure, quite honestly. For as long as I’ve been in his household, no one has ever done anything like this.

“As for someone helping him…I don’t know if I quite understand what you mean. I guess Athanar would see it as a sort of disobedience or disrespect for his command. If it were one, say, like you or I, he might be flogged, or perhaps forced to leave in disgrace. But what do you mean by help? How would anyone help him?”

[Firefoot]

“As in, help him escape, I guess,” said Léof. How could he explain his question? “Like – like Lithor, the other man that has gone missing. If he left with Erbrand, Erbrand probably would have told him why he had to leave so quickly, and yet Lithor still went with him instead of reporting him.”

Now that Léof thought of it, Lithor couldn’t have been the only one to know. Erbrand would have wanted some supplies for his trip, right? At least what he could gather in haste. Which meant… the women in the kitchen? Kara! Surely Erbrand wouldn’t have left without saying anything to Kara. The ongoing romance between them had been plain for anyone in the hall to see. He hoped she was coping alright.

So were the original inhabitants of Scarburg all being dreadfully uncooperative, or had Athanar simply not thought to ask any of them (as Léof himself had not been asked)? All Léof could think was that this whole situation was being handled exceptionally badly, and that there was a lot more going on than he knew of.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

As they rode out with Thornden, Hilderinc felt somewhat unusually tense and attentive - partially probably because of Áforglaed, who rode just on the other side of Thornden and who still seemed on edge. Even Thornden had noticed that. Hilderinc wondered what could possibly happen had they found Erbrand and Áforglaed's anger went off in an uncontrolled way. Hilderinc had seen a fair share of such events among less disciplined men he used to serve with under various masters; he could well imagine one soldier's nerves breaking, others trying to stop him, somebody getting hurt and the tracked men using the confusion to escape, only to be shot in the back a few moments later, effectively negating any chance for being brought to justice...

To prevent his mind from conjuring dramatic scenarios, Hilderinc tried instead to focus on his surroundings. The road in front of them was empty and no signs of anybody else's presence in the vicinity could be seen. Thornden was quiet, but the soldiers in the back, Quin and the young "stablemaster", as he jestingly called him in his mind since their arrival - was it only the day before? - were talking to each other. With his keen senses focused on the surroundings, Hilderinc overheard bits of their conversation. His interest was abruptly raised by realising that the "stablemaster" seemed to talk about Erbrand in rather positive tone, too. Hilderinc casually slowed down his horse's pace just to be a few steps closer to the discussing two.

What the boy was saying was just the same all the others have been saying. "He may act a bit rashly sometimes, but inside he is a kind person" - it was said so many times that it was becoming sort of persistent. Hilderinc tried to remember his encounter with Erbrand in the morning. Well, it was true, Erbrand seemed kind. And as for attacking Scyrr... now that he thought about it, Hilderinc really knew Scyrr well enough not to think that he was completely innocent in starting the fight.

But that only raised the importance of bringing Erbrand back. Similar questions like those the "stablemaster" raised were going through Hilderinc's mind. How will Athanar act? Hilderinc knew Athanar to be a fair man, on the other hand, almost killing a soldier of one's own army was one of the worst things a man could do. The best masters Hilderinc had were those who could maintain order among their men, and one of the best ways to do this was to make an example of those who disturbed the order. In his initial years of service, during the War, Hilderinc had also heard and a few times even seen on his own eyes how such doctrine was taken into the extreme by the Uruk-hai of Isengard. He preferred not to recall the memories of it, however, and he doubted than anybody would like to. Civilisation was, after all, one of Men's advantage against the Orcs. Still, even though Erbrand's - and Lithor's, if he had indeed helped the tanner escape - destiny would not be as grim, still it probably would not be anything enviable.

[Folwren]

“If Lithor left with Erbrand, he will be in more trouble than just aiding the man,” Quin replied to Léof’s question. “Do you not see it? If Lithor is gone with him, as you suppose, he will be counted a deserter. He left his partners in arms without permission and with the apparent intention of not coming back. There’s really no better definition for deserting.

“But I see what you mean,” he said, glancing at Léof again. “Others may have helped him go. Or at least, helped him some by not saying anything immediately. He cannot have left without anyone noticing him, you mean. Well, I don’t know if anything can be done in that case. It might be different if they knew where he was going and refused to tell. That indeed might call for something or other. But I cannot imagine anyone withholding that sort of information from Lord Athanar. Why should they?”

[Durelin]

How will that help us? By getting rid of you pests! he thought. And it would hardly hurt them very much. This was a hopeless chase anyway. Various other scenarios went through his mind of what should have happened, should have been done...but he pushed them all aside. He was not to argue.

Coen raised his eyebrows at the boy. Of course he had respect: enough respect to talk back to his elders. But it had been glaringly clear that this boy did not have anyone to control him at home, much less once he had taken off into the woods.

"It will help us by keeping you three out of our way. The Lord Athanar's orders were not only to seek the fugitives but to see to the safety of the Hall and its inhabitants -- and you will find yourself safest at home."

It was not a suggestion. Coen lead his horse back to the road and mounted up. He was done here. He looked apologetically at Fearghall, making it clear that if nothing went as hoped, the soldier would be completely excused... "See to it that these boys make their way home."

He turned back to Javan and the boys. "If I see you again out here, you will be thrown over the back of a horse and taken back to the Hall."

Coen called for the others to follow him and took off at a quick trot down the road. Perhaps they would not come back empty handed at least, he thought, grinding his teeth. This was ridiculous. How could someone as accomplished and noble as Athanar get landed this backwater bunch of ruffians who did not even know how to keep their women and children in line?

Fearghall stood holding the reins of his horse, frowning at the boys and looking tired. "I have no more desire to deal with you than you do to deal with me, boys. I assume you're gonna persist kickin' and screamin' about all this?"

[Folwren]

Javan stood glowering after Coenred. He hardly minded a word that Fearghall said to them. He finally turned back to the man as he finished speaking.

“Look, sir,” Javan said, trying to sound like the men did when they bargained. “All we wanted to do was amuse ourselves a bit. We weren’t causing no harm. If you take us back, we’ll probably be seen by Cnebba’s mum, here, and be given chores of some sort. Worse yet, we might be in trouble for slipping off in the first place. Why don’t you just go back to Captain Coenred and tell him you took care of us, we’ll meander back towards the hall and just stay out of sight?”

He looked hopefully up at the soldier. If the man fell for it, the boys would be left to their own devices again, and they’d decide what to do after he had left.

[Firefoot]

Because they were his friends? The answer seemed glaringly obvious to Léof now. But he had not intended to make such a big deal out of this issue of deserters and traitors. He had only added the question as an afterthought – and he didn’t want any of these soldiers to think he was asking because he had been someone to help out Erbrand! So instead he said, “Perhaps you are right,” he said instead, hoping to let the matter drop. “My question was ill thought-out.”

By now their company had reached the edge of the fields behind the meadhall and would soon be ascending into the Scar. Were it not for the dark overtones of the day, Léof thought that he might thoroughly enjoy this ride. The air was chilly but not yet cold, and overhead the sun shone palely out of a crisp blue sky. They were not here to enjoy the scenery though. “I suppose we ought to be on the lookout for them now,” he commented. Or at least pretend to be, more like.

[Mnemosyne]

Wynflaed's eyes flicked over to Saeryn, as if reminding herself of all that she had just heard from her. She seemed hesitant--

Ah, yes. Saeryn, at least, knew enough comportment to know when to hold her tongue.

"I only know," she told Athanar, "what I heard from Lilige, from the maids' gossip, and from the lady Saeryn just now--that Scyrr was grievously injured by a local man, who then rode away. Given the madness that seemed to be going on out of doors, I thought a few more stabilizing presences might be necessary. Also, I believe Saeryn has some additional information concerning the man who ran away."

Truth be told, however, much of the madness had tempered itself--or else moved elsewhere, if Athanar had indeed sent out a search party. "How long and how far are your men pursuing the runagate? Is there aught the household should do to make things run more smoothly?"

[Durelin]

Fearghall looked at the boy flatly. "You are a schemer, aren't ya." He looked between the two others. "I'm guessing this was his idea, too?"

He sighed. "Trouble is just what you deserve to get in, boy. And if it's chores you're escapin', well, I can think of plenty more I'd like done myself! The men don't keep the barracks clean enough for my liking, you see..." He laughed a little. They would have to go back home at some point.

The Captain may not have any patience for children, since he had yet to settle down with a good woman even, much less bring anyone into the world -- a shame, too, Faerghall thought -- but he didn't think he had much more patience for these boys either.

Faerghall stretched a little and mounted his horse again with a groan. "Well," he began idly, "I think I'll meander back towards the hall. I've got some chores to attend to myself," he said with a chuckle and a sidelong look to the boys. He had one of their names at least...all he had to do was find a woman looking for her no-good son to get him to go chop some wood or some such...

[Thinlómien]

Unfortunately, all the men seemed to be doing something important. No bier-carriers for Wilheard, it seemed. If you want something to be done, do it yourself. Yes, yes. Uncle Fréathain's immortal piece of advice, something he and Wulf had always laughed at: his serious tone of voice when he kept repeating it and how he, a respected officer, lived by it himself. Will could remember him doing all kinds of funny stuff, like emptying containers in outhouses and fixing his own saddle.

Now it seemed like a useful piece of advice, and definitely not so funny anymore. He assessed the situation quickly: the Dunlending woman had just appeared with the bier. If he wanted to go somewhere to find a man to carry the bier with him, he would have to leave quick. But he should actually have left already. Now the serving woman and the healer - and worst of all, Scyrr - would think him a total idiot, after all he had just stood on the yard lazily for the past few minutes. He cursed in his head. Why didn't he ever learn? He functioned much better with animals than people.

"You, woman, help me lift Scyrr to this bier. Then we carry him to your healer's place. Healerwoman, see that we don't bump him into anything."

Now Wilheard felt even more stupid. That was probably the stupidest order he had even given, it even sounded so silly! He was grateful Wulfric wasn't here to see this - he was supposed to laugh at his brother, not the other way around. But there was no way taking back the order once it was given.

The women obeyed quickly and once Will and the dark woman left the bier Will was surprised - the sturdy woman was much stronger than she looked. Spent too little time with serving women, he thought sourly and then grinned at his own jest. Anyway, he hoped as few people as possible would pay attention to this humiliating operation. "Is it far?" he barked.

~*~

"Just around the corner, sir," Modtryth replied. She was surprised by the straightforward and down-to-earth manner of this young lord, carrying the bier with a womanservant. Not maybe as far from Lord Eodwine as I first thought... she mused.

She had figured the Lord's sons were just like so many other self-important young nobles and she had seen that side of them - all the carelessness and cruelty, but it amused her how much they actually reminded her of her own son and his two friends. Well, they are not that much older! she thought, and then wondered if she was becoming old herself. More a mother than a maid anyway, I should know that...

They arrived at Aedhel's temporary healer's quarters and lay Scyrr on one of the sickbeds.
"I shall look after him now, my lord," Aedhel said in her calm and pleasant voice.
"Good," the young man replied and with a quick glance at the wounded soldier, quit the room abruptly.

Helpless laughter rose in Modtryth and she sat down and let it all pour out. Aedhel gave her an odd look.
"What is it, Modtryth?" she asked quietly.
Modtryth shook her head. "Nothing. I mean... this day has been just absurd, everything is absurd. Everything has changed."
Aedhel nodded. "But hopefully not only for the worst."
"Yes," said Modtryth. She could not think of anything better to say. "Look for me if you need help with him. I will visit every now and then."
"Thank you."
"That's nothing. I'll go now. By the looks of it, there's a lot of stuff going on where I might be needed. And people tend to forget that the household has to be run even on days like this. Ginna and I were supposed to do the laundry today!"

With those words, she hurried off. Ginna would be at the kitchens, by Kara's side. Well, now Kara should be left for Frodides brusque words and warm heart, that would probably be for the best. Modtryth didn't make it to the kitchens yet when her keen eyes spotted Leodern sulking by Harreld's smithy. She had better find out what was going on.

"What's up, little one?" Modtryth asked and picked the girl in her arms. Leodern was no baby anymore, but Modtryth secretly liked treating her like one - she was such a sweet and pretty child.

Leodern his her small face in her hair. "Garmund and Cnebba didn't listen to me. And Javan called me ninny."
"I'll see to Javan hearing of it later. It was wrong of him to say that." Modtryth let out a small sigh - but of course a 13-year-old boy would think a 5-year-old girl a ninny. He just should have enough brains not to say it aloud. Modtryth was more concerned about the second part of Leodern's worries, though. "And what did you say when Garmund and Cnebba didn't listen to you?" she asked, although with a sinking feeling she thought she knew what it was about.
"They didn't listen to me when I said you..." she stopped abruptly.
"Told them to stay in sight of the house and out of trouble, yes," Modtryth finished. Don't the boys ever grow up... at all?

"Now you, my lady, shall come with me to the kitchen and you shall eat apples with Ginna while I find a few tricksters I'd gladly have a word with. Then later today you may come do laundry with us - but no splashing or dangerous experimenting with the hot water this time!"

Leodern's eyes lit up. If the months in Scarburg had made Modtryth her loving mother, Ginna, whom she still called "princess" every now and then, had become her much admired big sister and Modtryth knew the little girl just loved doing the laundry. She would make such a perfect maid some day, Modtryth thought wryly.

[littlemanpoet]

He opened his eyes. Where am I? It was dark. There were curtains around him, linen? He got up .... no; he had tried. He could not move. What is wrong? He could barely move his head. So weak! Saeryn? He had meant to call her, but his mouth was so dry. He worked some moisture into his mouth.

"Saeryn?" He had meant to call out, but his words came out a whisper. He tried to call her again but could not find the strength. What is wrong with me? Where am I?

Someone came, a balding man, looking care worn. He bent over him.

"Ah, I see you have finally wakened. You have slept long. The king's athelas has done its work again. Shame that he had been away so long journeying across his realms. Here, drink this."

He opened his mouth and let the water pour in, drinking greedily, but coughed most of it away. When the fit had passed he felt weaker than ever. But he was determined to speak.

"Where am I?" His voice was a mere wheeze.

"You are in the Houses of Healing. You have been here some long while, but you will be on the mend now. If you like I will send news to your wife."

He nodded and sighed again. Then he slept.

[Folwren]

The sunlight slanted down in cold, comfortless rays while the wind whipped right through the folds of the riders’ clothing. The marsh was always bleak and barren place, but in the mid-winter, it was even worse. Thornden rode silently on, picking a careful path through the boggy pools and the patches of dry, rattling weed-stalks.

Back at the edge of the marsh, he had split his group into five groups, three men riding together. They had fanned out, spreading across the marshes and heading in as many directions as possible.

Thornden’s eyes scanned the trail listlessly. No one knew better than he that Erbrand and Lithor had not come this way, and yet here he was, putting up a most impressive sham of searching for them. The very nature of it disgusted and sickened him. Yet still he rode on, winding farther and farther in. Soon, Scarburg was out of sight and all that surrounded him were cold, half frozen pools of water, and reeds that whispered in the cold wind.

The sun, already at its zenith when they had set out, was far down in its arc to the west. They had to head back, or risk being lost in the marshes at night.

“This is it,” he said to his two companions. “We have searched as long as we can.” He took the horn that he bore at his hip and blew a blast upon it, to signal to the others that they were to head back. Answering horn calls came from his right and left to indicate they had heard and were spreading the message. He and his companions turned the horses’ heads back towards home.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

The search of the marshlands did not seem to bring any results. Hilderinc was not any master in tracking, and this terrain was completely unknown to him, but when Thornden's horn called all parties back, it seemed that even the local soldiers did not succeed in finding a single trace of the fugitives. By that time Hilderinc was already rather exhausted. Even worse could be said about Áforglaed, whose temper had sort of mingled with the gloomy presence of the marshlands. All the afternoon he seemed to be walking as if in sort of half-dreamy, almost feverish state, with a dark look in his face; but in the most unexpected moments he would burst out with a single angered shout. After trying to remind him several times that he should be quiet and not bring the attention to himself, in case that somebody was around after all, and after realising that it does not lead to any results, Hilderinc gave up. Áforglaed, the sometimes a bit rash, but generally quiet man, suddenly became something else. The man who had always played the second fiddle to Scyrr became something else with the attempt on his friend's life.

There was something mightily disturbing Hilderinc as he watched the young Áforglaed wandering about and hewing the withered reeds. He would not name it consciously, but there was something deep in his mind which made him understand the young soldier's feelings. But he would not think about it and he would focus on his job, as he always did. Áforglaed might be annoyed – but he is not going to accomplish anything if he lets himself to be distracted. He is not going to catch the one who attacked Scyrr if he cannot remain calm. But he is still young and he can learn.

Hilderinc was still thinking about this when they were returning back. Áforglaed seemed gloomy, but at least his anger seemed to drown in the atmosphere of defeat: he was not saying anything. They caught up with Thornden and the other parties joined them soon, but one look into the soliders' faces made it clear that they were no more successful in finding but a single trace of the fugitives. Áforglaed was riding near Thornden, in the front, and Hilderinc caught up with him.

"If we didn't find them, then captain Coenred's party might have caught up with them still," he said aloud. Áforglaed raised his downcast eyes and there seemed to be a glimmer of hope in them.

"It would mean, though, that Erbrand was really attempting to flee from Scarburg for good," Hilderinc continued his thoughts. "If he had left early enough, he would have had more time to get away - or even cross the border before we caught up with him." Suddenly, he remembered the man he had seen riding away from the drills.

"Maybe the scout who was sent out earlier has brought some news to lord Athanar while we were away," he said. "Maybe the captain's party was actually going for a definite trail, unlike us."

The nearby soldiers did not pay any particular attention to his remark, they took it as a part of Hilderinc's silent evaluation. None of them had seen the lonely soldier leaving in the morning and nodding to Thornden, so nobody knew what "scout" Hilderinc was talking about – nobody aside from Thornden. But Áforgled seemed to be at least calmed by the strong possibility of the culprit being caught, and in the vision of at least learning more about the subject, he spurred his mount faster towards the Mead Hall.

[Folwren]

Javan frowned at Fearghall, then down at the ground and kicked at the dirt. The soldier didn’t look back at them as he turned his horse back towards home. Finally, with a defeated shrug of his shoulders, Javan waved his hand to the other boys and headed back. “If we don’t go back, he’ll tell somebody, and then we’ll really be in trouble,” he said in explanation.

They agreed and the three trudged back to the Hall behind Fearghall’s horse. They found the courtyard quiet and empty. The wounded man had been moved, the search parties had all left, and the rest were inside.

Fearghall turned his horse about in the courtyard to face the three boys. “I’m glad to see you three decided to follow me back. Give me your word that you will stay here after I leave to go rejoin the captain, and I will not inform anyone about where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.”

Javan and the other two exchanged glances and then Javan nodded. “You have our word. We will stay.”

Fearghall nodded then, and without another word, rode back out. The boys turned to watch him go, and then Javan tapped Garmund on the shoulder. “Come on. I don’t see anyone about, we might be able to get back to where we’re supposed to be without being noticed. Quick!” He started off at a run, and Garmund, after grabbing Cnebba came after him.

[Folwren]

"Maybe the scout who was sent out earlier has brought some news to lord Athanar while we were away," Hilderinc said. "Maybe the captain's party was actually going for a definite trail, unlike us."

Thornden sent Hilderinc a covert glance and the worried frown that had been etched in his face all day deepened a little more. He did not respond to the comment as Hilderinc had not directed it to him, but his thoughts dwelt on it and the possibilities that lay within it for the rest of the ride home.

What had Hilderinc seen and noticed? How long would it be until Hilderinc learned that no scout had been sent out? When would Hilderinc guess the truth of the matter? And would he go to Athanar and tell him of his suspicion of Thornden's dishonesty, as any true and loyal soldier should? The outlook had been grim from the beginning, and the more Thornden thought about it, the grimmer it became.

They came into the courtyard more than an hour after dark. Once dusk had fallen, they had been obliged to pick their way carefully through the marsh. They were hungry, tired, and half frozen by the time they got back and they all unsaddle their horses with stiff and numb fingers. As they were finishing, Coenred with his men came riding back in. A searching glance through their numbers showed Thornden that they had been as fruitless in their search as he and his men had been. It gave him a little comfort to know that Lithor and Erbrand were safely away, but it did not ease the tight feeling in his stomach.

The men flowed into the warm, fire-lit hall in a steady stream, clumping in groups inside near the fire and scattered about to talk about what had happened throughout the day and during their searches. When lord Athanar and the two ladies entered the hall, the room became silent and they turned their eyes towards him, hoping finally to hear something that would satisfy all their curiosity and answer at least some of their questions.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

When they have arrived back to the camp, Áforglaed was the first to unsaddle his horse and as Thornden already gave them leave, he ran across the darkness-covered courtyard into the healer's room to see Scyrr. That way, he had missed the return of Coenred's party, and learned about their unsuccessful mission only later when he came down for dinner.

Scyrr seemed to be getting better, and at least the local healer took good care about him. When Áforgaled came, he was sleeping, probably the best thing he could do at his current condition anyway. The healer woman was just on the leave herself, going to join the rest for the evening meal. Áforglaed remembered seeing her before, she was a pretty young woman, about his age, and somehow it seemed to him that she did not really fit the place. She looked different from the fair-haired girls back home, and there was something in her bearing which made her look almost noble lady-like. Perhaps she is an Elf, Áforglaed thought, but then he dismissed the thought straightaway: he had never seen an Elf, but he assumed them to be different.

"Your friend will be all right," the healer told him, standing at the door, as if nudging him to leave too. "I will bring some food for him when we go back from the dinner."

"No... no, I will do that," Áforglaed said. He followed to the door, with one last turn back to resting Scyrr.

The healer woman nodded in approval. They left the healer's quarters and slowly walked towards the main hall. As they walked in silence, Áforglaed's grim thoughts were suddenly washed away in the presence of this fair lady, which was so unlike the loud yellow-haired maids and girls in Edoras. He almost forgot about the trouble of the day, until another man joined them, and to his dismay, Áforglaed recognised the man who got into fight with him just after their arrival yesterday. The man cast a sideway look at him and then spoke a few fast words to the healer-woman. She nodded and they continued their pace towards the hall. Áforglaed stopped and gazed after them darkly. His brief moment of relief was gone again. What does this man have to do with her anyway?

So his mood was still grim as he arrived to the hall. The warmth inside took the evening chill off his bones, but his mind remained troubled. He sat along the table with the rest of the soldiers just as lord Athanar had entered the hall.

[Nogrod]

Seeing lord Athanar arrive both Coenred and Thornden came forwards to give their reports. Athanar didn't look surprised upon hearing they had not found the two. He took a long draught from his goblet before turning to his captain and seneschal.

"Well, it would have been news indeed had you found them... Now we'll just have to hope we didn't find them because they had a headstart and went on as fast as they could." Suddenly lord Athanar turned his gaze on Thornden.

"You know them better than I do Thornden. What do you think is the probability they stayed hidden somewhere around? Are there any special ties that could draw them back winning their fear of getting caught?"

[Folwren]

Thornden shrugged some, taking a moment to think of the relationship between Kara and Erbrand. Then he answered, first speaking his thoughts on Lithor:

"Lithor would have no reason to remain or come back. He had no very close ties here, and though he made friends with everyone around him, if he's really deserting and running, he won't return...

"Erbrand, on the other hand, loved one of the women here. Kara, who helps Frodides in the kitchen. I don't know if they spoke before he left, but if there were anything that he would return for, it would be her. But, really, I doubt that even she will bring him back. If he thinks he killed Scyrr, he will leave and not want to drag her down with him. I believe he loved her well enough not to endanger her like that."

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar raised his eyebrow.

"But did she love him... or did he think she loved him? That's the crucial question."

[littlemanpoet]

With an oath he threw down his hammer, startling Ginna at the bellows.

"'Tis no good! You see all the work now that this troop have joined Scarburg! I fall ever further behind!"

Ginna remained quiet. This had been brewing for some time, for many days. She watched him pace, biting her lip. She was not afraid of him for she knew well how gentle he was to her, but she could not quiet her nerves for she had always disliked it when her father or other men had fallen into a rage. It was hard to unlearn old fears.

He stopped his pacing and looked at her, his eyes still burning with his frustration. "There is enough work here for two blacksmiths!" His eyes went wide, startled by his own words. "There is enough work, and therefore pay, for two blacksmiths!" This time his words held hope.

"What are you thinking?"

"I must send for my brother Garreth!"

[Folwren]

Thornden shot Athanar a questioning look, but did not give the query voice.

"I do not know," he said, the words coming slowly. "I would say that she liked him, and perhaps she liked him very much, but I don't know."

He thought about the interactions between Kara and Erbrand. Kara was a very quiet and shy woman and didn't make her feelings clear to very many people, and Thornden was not one of the few to whom she did confide. He considered telling Athanar he'd have better luck asking lady Saeryn, but changed his mind to ask first,

"Why would that be the crucial point? What bearing would that have on the issue?"

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar's jaw dropped. Both Thornden and Coen saw his amazent all too clearly.

He's hiding something... he's too busy hiding something that he doesn't see the obvious, or does he just pretend not to see it?

Athanar collected himself and turned to look at Thornden with quizzical eyes. "Does an impassionate old man need to teach a young man about passion?" He took a small pause but then continued, now with a smile in his face.

"Think of a young man in love and in trouble for his life... well, at least for his freedom. What does he think? If he thinks the feeling is mutual he is ready to go against the whole world to get his lady. But if he thinks the love is one-sided, he'll save himself... That's the bearing, the crucial bearing." Athanar glanced at Coen but turned then back to Thornden again.

"If you come up with anything on the issue - or hear something about it - you'll let me know?"

"Of course." Thornden managed to answer.

"Good. That's it then. Thank you for your information. I need to think for a moment how to address the Hall on the issues in light of the information you have given me, so if you masters took your seats?"

"Aye sir!" Coen said and turned away.

"Yes, sir." Thornden said and went back to his seat.

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar sat down and took a bite of cheese falling deep into his thoughts. Now that's it... sending a clear message without forcing it out into the open! That's the way I can let the king know without looking like a jerk... some light then, some light then... He took a sip from his goblet and wiped his beard before taking a careful look at the hall.

The people hadn't mixed too much. Most of the people from his own household seemed to stick together as did the original people of the Mead Hall. To lord Athanar's great satisfaction he noted one table of soldiers having his men and the young soldiers of the Mead Hall together sharing some laughs. Maybe we have not lost hope then? Like dad used to say: drilling, drilling, drilling; there the bonds are made. He shook his head with the sad memory of his father. And then he rose up.

"I have a few short announcements to make!" The hussle and buzzle faded remarkably fast. Whatever the people felt, this was what they were looking forwards to.

"Thank you." he said, looking actually quite pleased with the effect his words had. "The first one I think is no news to most of you who have eyes and use them. Our searching parties didn't find the fugitives."

He monitored the reactions closely for the short time he needed to gather breath. "So I'm sending a word to king Eomer about Erbrand's attempted manslaughter and Lithor's desertion." Some murmurs were heard from the tables of the original Meadhallers, but Athanar quieted them down with a wave of his hand.

"Actually I'd like to see you both Coen and Thornden after I finish." He glanced at both of them and after receiving a nod from them he turned back to the hall.

"I am enraged about what happened to Scyrr today!" Suddenly there was a different lord Athanar on the stage. His eyes were in flames, spurred by his memories of the wars he had fought, rekindled by him trying to soothe and aid the bleeding man earlier in the day. Many of his men banged their pints to the tabletops for approval.

"But!" the banging of the pints died down like a sharp sword would have cut a paper in two.

"But... I'm not blaming anyone present for what happened. And none should!" Lord Athanar had been looking at the tables filled mostly with lord Eodwine's people, but with the last paert he glanced at his own men before concentrating on the original Meadhallers again. "None of you did it, and thus none of the blame should fall on you! Let there be no bad will on either side!"

A few backbone reactions of relief and joy spread over the Hall and suddenly the hall was full of applauds. Lord Athanar followed the reactions closely and seemed content to what he saw.

"Please, let me finish!" he shouted over the general noises of acceptance - and the hall went quiet.

"Tomorrow will be an important day in regards the future of this Hall. So not too much drinking today." There were some "gah's" from the crowd. "And no quarrels, mind you!" Some "aye's" were heard.

"All soldiers of the Scarburg Mead Hall, all of you!" After the initial bafflement all the soldiers, old and new, answered in chorus yelling "aye!"

"Tomorrow we're going to meet the local lords! Let's make sure we give them a show worthy of the king's Mead Hall!" There was a thunderous acceptance from the soldiers - and it was especially easy for the original Mead Hall soldiers to join the shouting as they remembered the pomp and circumstance - and the arrogance - with which the lords had visited them... "If they came here for a show-off, then let's show them as well!" There were loud "hurrah's" all around.

"But that means..." the hall went quiet again. "That means an early morning call and some serious work tomorrow morning. Trim your horses... and yourselves..." There was some scattered laughter. "Polish your gear, look what you are, look like true eorlinga!" The soldiers were beginning to applaud themselves but Athanar cut it with a swift wave of his hand. "Tomorrow evening, when we have made our position clear and the Mead Hall of Scarburg has been established for good... we'll have a big party, a big party indeed!"

With that all of the Mead Hall burst into cheers of both hope and relief. And for a moment the issues that had made a rift between the two people seemed nonexistant. People were proud of themselves and felt something like unity. Not that there weren't less happy faces around... and lord Athanar marked some. But for the most part the people seemed more relaxed they had thus far.

Nothing to unite people like a common enemy... lord Athanar thought to himself while clapping his hands with the crowd. He tried to hide his smile but couldn't.


Sitting down lord Athanar soon had both Coen and Thornden around him.

"Okay?" He asked and look at the two men.

"Good speech mylord." Coenred said.

"This may sow a seed of good things to come, lord Athanar. Well spoken." Thornden added.

"Thank you for your words. I hope we'll get the better of this lousy start... but anyway. I have a job for you, today." He looked at both of them. "Now, I want you to pick one soldier - both of you from your men - one that you think would have the most extreme way of looking at this divide there has been between the people. Pick the one you might think could pose a threat to our unity tomorrow, if there is any, or then just the man you think we'd least wish was there with us tomorrow. Tell them to meet me here in one and half hour to pick my letter to the king - and as I know anyone would be reluctant to go riding through the night, especially after this kind of a day, tell them they will have a day free tomorrow in Edoras and they will have to report to me they're back only in the evening meal of the day after tomorrow. That clear?"

Coen and Thornden looked puzzled but nodded.

"Well, off you go then to pick. I have a letter to write... so please excuse me." With that lord Athanar smiled and rose up, and with a nod left the table heading towards his chambers.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld walked back from the hall to his smithy, arm in arm with Ginna.

"Your face would curdle milk, Harreld!" Ginna said. "Did you not like the eorl's speech?"

"I've heard worse," Harreld allowed.

"Why the glum face then? You did not wear it until we left the hall."

Harreld heaved a sigh. "The eorl was playing us as if we were his circus beasts. It was as if he was on stage acting out a play. Eodwine never spoke to us so."

Ginna looked from side to side before replying. "It saddens me, remembering how differently Eodwine used to address us. He had always made us feel that we are more to him than mere servants. But careful now with your words, Harreld."

"The eorl will get no treason from me, fear not. I do not hate him, nor do I like him well." He sighed again. "Maybe I am merely overworked."

They went into the smithy.

"Are we to work more tonight?"

He sighed again. "Nay. It is late. No bellows work needed now. Go and take your rest."

She looked up at him with a determined expression. "I could stay here and keep you company, if you wish."

He smiled and almost relented, for she was a balm to him when he was in these moods. "Nay, lovely one, I think it would be best if I take some time alone."

She narrowed her eyes. "Best?"

"Maybe not," he paused, "best, but needed."

She touched his shoulder and caressed his face, and looked into his eyes. "Do not putter too late. Good night." She left him.

She knew him well. He did not expect to sleep soon for his mind ran the same ground over and over again, like the ruts a dog would make along the fence of its prison. He took a sword blade and a whet stone and set to work sharpening the edge.

It would be good to have Garreth back again. He would have Thornden deliver his message in Edoras, if the eorl would allow it. Or would Athanar not approve the extra mouth to feed? He was not sure. It angered him, because he knew that Eodwine would have welcomed another smith gladly were he needed, regardless of the extra food he would cost.

The sharper Harreld honed the sword edge, the bitterer his thought ran. He knew that it was not just what was wrong with Athanar; he missed Eodwine. I wish you well, lord and friend. He meant it, but what hope was there? Eodwine was as good as dead. He wiped at his eyes and refused the tears that wished to come, even though here away from prying eyes it would not seem unmanly. He worked far into the night until so weary that he could no longer stand it. Something must be done.

[Folwren]

“Extreme view of the situation here...threaten our unity...” Thornden mused at his table, repeating lord Athanar’s words while he pulled worriedly at his chin. His eyes scanned across the faces of his men seated near him, all engrossed in their own conversations of the following morning. His eyes settled briefly on Matrim. Of all the soldiers, save Lithor, Matrim had showed the most dissatisfaction with the new setting. Others had grumbled and questioned Athanar’s authority below their breath, but only Matrim had actually stood up for Eodwine and Saeryn. But, no. Matrim was Æđelhid’s escort and Thornden did not feel he had the freedom to send him away. He continued scanning his men.

Gárwine. He had known him since his first day at the Mead Hall. Gárwine loved Eodwine and Saeryn as much as Thornden did himself. He was not what one would call a troublemaker, but Thornden did not think any of his men really were. Yes, Thornden thought he would do very well. He would tell Athanar that although he did not think that Gárwine being with the company would cause any trouble, he felt that he at least filled the requirement of having an extreme view on the situation.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld rubbed his eyes again as he walked from his smithy to the mead hall. Before he fell asleep he wanted to talk to Thornden. Not that telling him tonight instead of tomorrow would change a thing, but he wanted it done.

He stretched his arms and neck, trying to loosen them after hours of whet stone work. He squinted ahead of him: the moon hung just above the horizon in the west. It was late, but he was determined to wake Thornden if he had to. It turned out to his surprise that this was unnecessary, for Thornden was just coming out of the Mead Hall.

"Thornden! Hail!"

"Harreld! You are still awak?"

"Aye, there is a matter I cannot banish from my thoughts. Will you be gong to Edoras?"

"Not I, but I will be sending- Ugh! You stink, Harreld! Did you sleep in your scrap iron?"

Harreld chuckled. "Close enough. I will bathe in the morning. I would beg a boon of you, though."

"Speak it."

"Have your messenger stop in at my brother Garreth and tell him to come to Scarburg. There is more than enough work for two smiths now with the extra soldiers."

Thornden's brow rose. "I suppose a few moments can be set aside for that-" he murmured doubtfully.

"Or do you think our new eorl would say me nay?"

"I ... cannot say. Would you like me to ask him?"

Harreld sighed. He had been hoping for quick reassurance from Thornden. The man's doubt did nothing to assuage his dislike of the new eorl. "Aye, I would be in your debt if you would. The work is more than one man can handle now."

"I will take care of it," Thornden replied. "Get some sleep! I'll tell you in the morning."

"Aye. Good night," Harreld replied unhappily. Now that the thing was done he was very weary and it was not long before he was sound asleep, dreaming of sharpened sword edges and prison bars.

[Mnemosyne]

"I must be getting old," said Wynflaed, as Lilige carefully hung her dress away. "I do not recall my back aching this much since I bore Aedre."

"You do not look it," said Athanar. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, but his eyes were alight with thought.

"You flatter me, husband. Lilige, that is all I will need you for tonight; I know you must be weary from the day's events as well. I will call you should I require anything."

Lilige curtsied and left the room.

Wynflaed sighed. She had not seen Athanar very much that day, and while that could be typical in a day's work at court, so much of the day had dragged on...

After Saeryn had told Athanar of Lithor's desertion, the two of them had gone back to the kitchens and begun to muster the effort for when the searchers would return--plenty of hot broth, with barley thrown in for good measure. Then there was the general bustle of trying to keep everyone calm, getting the stables ready for the return of the riders, and even trying to find a stout store-room in case the runagates were found and needed to be locked up.

"Is aught wrong?"

"Hm?" Wynflaed turned to look at Athanar, and then sat next to him on the bed. "No, I was merely woolgathering. I had wished to acquaint myself with the household, but I did not think I should have to do so this soon--or this suddenly."

"Mishaps are what bring out the genius in a general." He brought his hand to the back of her neck and began to rub it.

"Aye," said Wynflaed. "And you did most marvellously today, especially at the feast. I only wish I could have done more."

"You kept things running--"

"--I and the Lady Saeryn--"

"--and that is what matters."

"Well," Wynflaed said, rising, "I do not expect tomorrow to be much easier than today. I can see your mind is still working, but I am weary. Let us discuss what is to be done in the morning--and do not stay up too late with your plans!"

But Wynflaed could not tell if Athanar had heeded her advice or not, for she slept not too long after she laid her head on the pillow.

[Durelin]

Coen rose the next day feeling nearly as much dread as he had when he first learned of Scyrr's near death. There had been a moment yesterday that had felt almost as if this Hall were one unit, and not two butting heads over imagined and purposeful insults and encroachments. He also woke with a headache.

He had not slept much. His mind was on Erbrand and Lithor, two men who he thought the Hall was surely better off without. The one was young and hot-blooded, and with the course he had set himself on, he was likely never to return to a straight path. Lithor was well old enough to have cooled his blood and become accustomed to using his head. So he was truly just a bad sort.

The meetings with the local lords were on Coen's mind, as well, but not nearly as much. He would be there to do as Athanar ordered and to support his lord as was needed. But that all the bad blood and misfortunes that had taken place since they arrived, several of them could have easily been avoided had he been more attentive. He had let Scyrr be dragged into this confrontation, as he had let him out of his --, when all the others were at drills. Except Lithor, whom he had simply assumed, foolishly, was still detained by his lord for his foolishness.

He knew that man was dangerous, and he had done nothing about it. But it had not been his place. It was not his place. It was his place to find him, to find him and Erbrand both, for justice and to restore the insult to his lord, but...his place was wherever his lord told him to be. And he told him to be here. Tomorrow he would be at his lord's service for the necessary politicking, which needed a show of force if not actual force.

Coen rose and made his way through the barracks, waking those men who were not already up and tending to their horses or themselves...as Athanar had ordered, he smiled to himself. He had sent Aforglaed to serve as one of the king's messengers to Edoras, and Scyrr was still laid up. But he had no complaints so far regarding any of the other soldiers now that Lithor was gone, except perhaps for that one who was quite young...though so many of them looked so young... And he still had Hilderinc to help hold them together. Perhaps things were not as steeped in chaos as he thought.

He went to the stables to see to his horse, give him some feed and tack him. Coen felt bad putting him through another rough day after yesterday's search, but he did not doubt he was strong enough to do so. He had not ridden with full equipment yesterday, at least.

[Folwren]

Nogrod's Post

Lord Athanr looked at the empty parchment and wrote the words My King, to begin the letter. It felt preposterous and not himself. He took the parchment and folded it in parts, sending it to the fire.

My lord. He began the next one. He looked at the paper for a while and thought it would have to suffice.


I need to make a call for a tanner named Erbrand and a soldier named Lithor. This Erbrand tried to kill one of my men, Scyrr, if you remember the old warhorse; and Lithor joined Erbrand in escape after having been judged for trying to revolt against your rule. The two are armed and dangerous. Although I find it sad to call after them as they seemed like good men.

They ran away before noon this day and I sent men to go after them as soon as their desertion caught my ears. Neither was found around the premises within ten miles.

Do ask the two messengers I sent you with this message, why there were these troubles. You'll get the picture from there.

Yours truly,

lord Athanar


He eyed the parchment once more and then rolled it to a tube pressing his seal of wax on it.

Coming downstairs he met Aforglaed and Garwine waiting for him in the hall.

"So it is you two to carry the message?" Both of the men nodded. "Good..."

"Give this letter to the king - and do not let all the soothsayers get in front of you. Say it is important news from the Scarburg Mead Hall."

Lord Athanar gave the parchement to Garwine and stood back. "Go with my best wishes and come back later... and use your free time in Edoras well..." he smiled to the two and winked an eye to them.

"I'm waiting to hear your report the day after tomorrow.... Now ride as like the ghosts would pursue you... the earlier the king learns of your news the better chances there are getting these two caught."

--

Folwren's Post

Thornden and Harreld parted ways, Harreld to go to bed, Thornden to find Athanar. As he entered the hall, he met Garwine and Aforglaed coming out. They were bundled so thoroughly against the freezing night air that he would not have recognized them due to the scarves wrapped about their faces were it not that he knew no others would be leaving at this hour.

"Garwine?" he said questioningly. Garwine turned and then reached up and pulled the scarf down so he could speak.

"Aye, sir?"

"Get your horses, but wait until you hear from me before you leave."

"Very good."

They went out and Thornden went in. The hall was all but dark, with only the light from the massive fireplace illuminating the shadows partially. As reluctant as he was to call Athanar out from his chamber at this hour, he didn't hesitate. He knocked firmly on the door. Athanar himself opened it.

"Excuse me, my lord," Thornden said, "but I have a question that cannot wait till morning, for it needs an answer before the messengers depart."

"Speak it," Athanar said.

"Our smith Harreld has a brother in Edoras who is also a smith. Harreld informed me this evening that it is impossible for him to be able to fulfill all the duties required of an armorer and smith with so many men-at-arms here now, and he asks if the messengers you are sending may stop by his brother's smithy in Edoras and tell him to join him here."

Athanar stood considering a moment. "He is in Edoras, you say?" he asked. Thornden nodded. "So the messengers would not have to go far from their direct road," Athanar mused.

"Since they have all day in the city tomorrow, they can easily go after their interview with the king," Thornden pointed out.

"True. That would work. Go and tell them to go by the smith's tomorrow after they have delivered my message to the king."

"Thank you," Thornden said. Athanar nodded, bid Thornden goodnight, and shut the door again. Thornden smiled as he turned and walked quickly across the hall and out into the courtyard. He saw the two messengers and their horses. One was already mounted, but the other, Garwine likely, was standing and holding his horse's rein.

"Garwine, do you remember Garreth, Harreld's brother?"

"Of course I do," Garwine said, a flash of white showing his smile in the darkness. "He was the loud one that always used to amuse us with his jests."

"Yes, he is the one. Go to his smithy tomorrow, after you have delivered lord Athanar's missives, and tell him that his brother, Harreld, has need of him here at Scarburg. Tell him that with the coming of our new lord, the load of smithying has increased and he needs Garreth's help."

"With pleasure," Garwine replied.

"Good. Thank you. Ride well," he said. And as Garwine wrapped his face once more against the cold and turned to mount up for his night ride, Thornden went inside to find a warm bed and sleep until morning.

[Firefoot]

Léof rose early, but if he was hoping for a bit of peace in the stables before the armsmen showed up, he was disappointed. One soldier was already there tending to his horse, and another couple arrived as Léof was starting to feed the horses. Well, it was going to be a busy day after all, and Athanar seemed eager to make a good impression on the local landlords. Hopefully a better one than Thornden and Saeryn had made, anyway – not that that debacle had been any fault of theirs.

He said good morning to Quin when he came in, but Quin seemed to be in a hurry and Léof had duties of his own to attend to, so they did not stop to talk. Even so, the interaction cheered Léof somewhat. It was nice to see a friendly face in the midst of so many unfamiliar ones.