Scarburg Meadhall

[Folwren]

The tension in the air dissipated in an instant. Thornden felt himself breath easier, and he wondered if he had been holding his breath. He smiled as he glanced about. Some of the men cheered at lord Friduhelm’s words. The old man turned to lord Athanar standing on the steps beside him. He spoke loudly enough for Thornden to hear from where he sat,

“Go, lord Athanar, and my men serve you well! I will stay home and deal with this whelp of mine, myself!” He turned his dark eyes on his son as he spoke. Thornden tried to keep the smirk off his face, but for all his decency, he could not help it. He studied for a minute the odd couple standing there on the stairs: the young man, full of life and vigor standing with his head bowed to hide the fury in his face, and his father, bent and old though he was, glaring at him as though he were young enough still to be whipped.

He did not observe them for more than a second. He turned his horse about again to face both Athanar’s men and Friduhelm’s riders that were just put under Athanar’s command. “Come! Prepare yourself to ride out. To horse, eorlinga!” The men still on foot mounted their horses Athanar went down the stairs to his mount and rode forward to head the column once more. As they wound up to the road away from the hall, Friduhelm could still be seen standing on the step with his son to one side of him and a step behind.

It was not a two hour’s ride to Lord Tancred’s. They reached the holding by mid-afternoon. The dust from their horses rose behind them high in the air and acted as beacon to those they approached. Tancred was waiting for them. He did not show a force of arms as Faramund had, though his men-at-arms did stand at attention at each door of the hall. Tancred himself met them in the midst of the courtyard and stood by while Athanar dismounted.

At first, Tancred seemed doubtful of Athanar’s claim as lordship of the Middle Emnet. Thornden observed him cast a grim eye over all the horsemen. Athanar, too, turned to look at the array of riders, and then he faced Tancred again and explained to him the great number of men. Tancred looked as though he had sour grapes in his mouth as he received the news of Friduhelm’s recovery. He looked again on Athanar and nodded. They spoke a few words and then he and Athanar withdrew into the hall.

Out in the courtyard, the men waited. Thornden looked about him. All seemed well in order here. People moved about in their daily business, looking nothing like the cowed and frightened inhabitants of Faramund’s hall. He and the other soldiers were looked upon with curiosity, but little hostility.

In a little while, Athanar came forth again. Tancred came with him and bid him farewell at the door of his house. A moment later, Athanar was mounted again and the column turned and rode once more out onto the road.

[Nogrod]

Folwren's post

“That went well, my lord?” Thornden asked as the company moved out once again. Athanar nodded his head.

“Yes. Tancred is a shrewd man, but he knew that there was nothing he could say to put off paying what was due. He is not a fool.”

“He did not doubt your claim, like Faramund did?”

“No, not after I laid the facts in front of him. Let us hope Alboin is as reasonable as Tancred was.”

Thornden nodded. He fell into silence, thinking again on the one time he had met Alboin, along with the other two lords. Alboin had talked the least of the three, but he had shown no less disdain for them than Faramund had. He would be angry, possibly belligerent, but he could not argue with Athanar for long.

The sun was beginning its downward arch in the sky by the time they reached Alboin’s lands. They drew rein close to the door of the house. Unlike the other two places they had visited it seemed that here there was no one home. Athanar looked around silently. The long day was beginning to show in most of the riders’ faces, and they had yet several hours ride back home.

“Come with me, Thornden,” Athanar said, dismounting, nodding Coen to stay with the men. Thornden stepped down from his horse and followed Athanar. As they drew nearer the house, the door swung open and a young lady came out.


*******************************

Nogrod's post

“Who are you and why do you come with such a force?” She asked trying to keep her voice firm, like a lady of a noble house should.

Athanar and Thornden glanced at each other sharing the curiosity.

“I am lord Athanar, the eorl of Mid Emnet, and I’ve come to see lord Alboin.” He paused for a short while to study the young lady’s reaction. “Where can we find him?”

The young woman hesitated for a moment but then bowed lightly to lord Athanar and asked them to follow her inside.

After waiting a little longer they felt was decent, lord Alboin finally emerged into the hall followed by a few of his men. He had put on his best garments topped with a fancy tunic decorated with stunning colors. He tried to look firm and in control of the situation. He took pains to express himself both lordly and honourably at the same time. “So, what gives me the pleasure of this unexpected visit from my eorl?”

Lord Athanar stared at him with relaxed confidence, leaning back against the seat he was sitting in. In truth he was not at all sure this would go easily but his acted ease was a means to affect the outcome. And it worked, lord Alboin became more clearly nervous the longer lord Athanar remained silent.

Finally lord Athanar let lord Alboin off the hook of suspense. “Do you remember Thornden here? You two have met…” Athanar nodded towards Thornden and then turned back to look at Alboin who was now openly insecure about the situation.

“Last time you two met the then new eorl was very sick and I hear you weren’t exactly honoring of the earldom and those then representing it… Well, king Eomer has seen it important enough to appoint a new eorl to set things right on these corners of Rohan. And I demand perfect obedience and honouring of the king’s orders.” He took short break and leaned forwards. “Lord Friduhelm is back in charge and lord Tancred has subjected himself to the new order. Now you face the choice: I have enough men out there to force you to agree, or you can agree on your own free will.

Lord Alboin hesitated. Whichever way he tried to calculate his chances they seemed slim indeed. He tried to figure out different scenarios but soon realized that right here and now he had no other chance but to agree. But he would not be humiliated with the details before his men. “Bredgard and Gropher, go see that the eorl’s men get some wine and show their horses to the pond.”

~*~

“Well, I would call that a good day, wouldn’t you Thornden?” Lord Athanar asked when they were finally back on their way to Scarburg.

“I would, even if the start wasn’t so good…” Thornden answered studying his lord’s expression.

Athanar nodded. “I think we have all earned ourselves a little party back in Scarburg, don’t you think?”

Thornden and Coen both nodded. The sun was slowly setting behind their backs as they rode the last miles towards the Mead Hall.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc's mood on the way back to Scarburg was quite merry. He was pleased with the way Athanar had dealt with the remaining landholders and for now, Hilderinc was feeling as if things were the way they should be – a rather rare mood for him, in fact. As for himself, he felt comfortably fatigued and for the last few miles he had been looking forward to seeing the warm fireplace, a full plate and maybe a mug of good ale. And he even felt like cheering spontaneously at lord Athanar's speech – which, knowing Athanar, he was expecting to come at some point, maybe around the dinner-time. But that mood was not supposed to last, unfortunately.

Since as the soldiers came back home, put their horses back to the stables and after taking care of all the necessities, they entered from the chilly autumn late afternoon into the warmth indoors, what greeted them was a few of the local people moving around, already preparing stuff for the incoming lord – and apart from them, Hilderinc had noticed a small, chubby man-like figure sitting by the fireplace and sending rings of smoke up towards the ceiling. It was the holbytla they have met during the day, Hilderinc realised immediately... and his mood dropped. He didn't even know why, but somehow all the bad stuff during the day, despite its good outcome, suddenly came back to him: his failure to notice the man Wiglaf when it was needed, the mild disturbance in the soldiers' ranks on the road, when he got himself distracted exactly because of that holbytla, and even the matter of disparity among the men of Scarburg, when he remembered what he and Coen possibly discovered in the morning, the fact that Thornden might have known about Lithor's disappearance – and this thing still wasn't solved, as far as he knew. And who knows how it might just go...

"What are you doing here, frowning like a pukel-man?" somebody poked him from the back. It was Fearghall, one of the "older" (in matter of experience) soldiers. He seemed happy, just like Hilderinc had been a moment ago. "There comes food to be eaten, but I would like to take off my riding shoes first, at least... but you are in people's way," he said and half-dragged Hilderinc to the side. Seeing that his face did not lose its gloomy look, he shook his head. "What is wrong with you? You look as if you saw an ill-omen."

Hilderinc shook his head too, trying to clear it. There was no need to start worrying about the relations between Scarburgians just after the day had ended with the successful completion of a task they did together... but the holbytla's presence definitely disturbed him, somehow, now he had seen it.

"It's nothing," he said aloud, shrugging, but Fearghall followed his gaze, noticing the small man sitting by the fireplace.

"Well, a holbytla!" he observed. "Truly amazing. Is he going to stay here? Some of the men told me that he had known the late lord..."

"I wonder if the others have spotted him already – they are going to beat each other in order to determine who is going to sit next to him," Hilderinc said almost absent-mindedly, not letting his eyes down from Falco.

"In order to... what?" Fearghall said. "Oh, true. Well, I have seen one of the holbytlan, once... but to be able to talk to such a curious little person myself... I might just as well attempt that as well."

"I thought you were not like the enthusiastic youngsters..." Hilderinc said, but Fearghall just laughed at his jest and rushed away to change his shoes.

[Folwren]

While Hilderinc and Fearghall were discussing the holbytla, Thornden was also busy thinking about him. He saw him when he entered and felt a twinge of regret when he remembered their earlier meeting. He wanted to speak to him, but not at once. He would first go and refresh himself after his ride.

Some minutes later he emerged again into the hall, dressed in cleaner clothes and with his hands and face washed. The hall was busier now than it had been five minutes ago. Several of the soldiers were there, and most of the people who had stayed behind had gathered in the hall. Twilight was falling outside, and the warmth of the fire was welcomed by everybody. The women past to and fro, bringing out tankards for ale and just beginning to carry out great platters of food. Even Saeryn was carrying something. She passed him on her way back to the kitchen with a wide, empty tray held under one arm and a pitcher in the other hand.

“Saeryn,” Thornden said, swinging out of his path to follow her. She half turned to see who called her, but didn’t stop walking towards the kitchen.

“Thornden,” she said, smiling some. “How did it go?”

“Tolerably,” he replied. “The full tale will wait until dinner. Can I help you carry something?” He took the heavy tray from her without letting her answer. “Are you sure you should be helping serve? You are still a lady here.”

“Even I cannot afford to sit still,” Saeryn answered. “There are too many mouths to feed to leave all the work to the girls. I would have thought that Athanar would bring more of his servers from his household in Edoras.” She pushed open the kitchen door and went in. The air was hot and heavy with a mixture of smoke and steam. The clatter of dishes and serving spoons filled Thornden ears, along with the chatter and laughter of the women folk working there. He followed Saeryn to the table and deposited the tray he was carrying. Saeryn set her empty pitcher down and picked up another full one and put it along with several trenchers onto another tray and picked the whole thing up. Thornden confiscated it at once. Saeryn gave him an annoyed look.

“Walk with me,” he said. “I’ll carry it and you can serve, if you insist, but I want to talk.”

Saeryn could not help the smile on her face as she conceded with a little grace. She picked up another full pitcher of ale and led the way back out of the kitchen. “What do you want to talk about?” she asked as she threaded her way to the tables.

“Did the messengers from last night return?”

“No. I imagine they will be back this evening, late.”

“Right,” Thornden said. They paused and he stood still behind Saeryn while she filled some of the tankards and then emptied half of his tray and handed several men full trenchers of stew and bread. “And what of Ginna?” Thornden asked as they went on. Saeryn didn’t turn her head.

“What of her?”

“Didn’t she tell you she got a letter this morning from her father?”

Now Saeryn turned and gave him a surprised look with wide open eyes. “No, she did not say a word about it to me.”

“Oh,” Thornden said. Perhaps he had been wrong in his hopes that the letter bore good tidings and permission from her father to marry Harreld. The same thought seemed to be going through Saeryn’s mind, too. She turned away, her eyebrows still lifted and thoughtfully poured the next man’s drink. She emptied the tray and then took it from Thornden.

“You’ve ridden a long way today, you should sit down and join the others,” she said.

He nodded. “I need to talk to Falco. And perhaps I’ll ask Harreld what the news is.”

Saeryn shook her head. “I wouldn’t. I’d wait. If Randvér has told them he doesn’t want the match to take place, he is not going to be very happy.”

“If he has been disappointed, perhaps having someone to talk to will be a good thing,” Thornden countered.

Saeryn shook her head and went off to the kitchen. Thornden went in search of Falco. He found him as of yet still alone. None of Athanar’s soldiers had gotten over their shyness and wonder of him to approach him yet with no other reason save curiosity.

“May I sit by you for a moment?” Thornden asked.

[littlemanpoet]

Falco had been in the mess hall for some time, smoking for the most part. The missus of the place - (what was her name? It started with "F" he thought, and was aghast when a female version of Frodo Baggins came into his thought; he closed his eyes and shook his head to clear the thought away) - the Missus of the place had seen to it that he never got too much to drink all at once. It was just as well, though she had little understanding of a Hobbit's natural ability to hold his brew.

He was working on a fresh tankard now, since it had gotten around time for the evening meal. The savory smell of stew and bread was coming from the kitchen, and Falco saw the first platters being taken out. No hurry, he would get his soon enough.

The men had started to arrive in the hall. Most of them walked back and forth, some stealing glances his way. He smirked. These were shy folk! Then one of them came near. Oh. It was Thornden. Falco wondered if he still had a nettle under his skin like he had earlier that day when he'd spoken so harshly. Well, Falco thought, we'll see how he comports himself.

“May I sit by you for a moment?” Thornden asked.

"Suit yourself," Falco said noncommittally.

[Folwren]

Thornden wasn’t going to wait for a more open invitation. He deserved no better reply from the hobbit. He seated himself opposite Falco immediately.

“I am sorry about my rudeness today on the road,” he said. “I was angry with the men, not with you.” He paused a moment and looked down. Falco sat silently puffing at his pipe, waiting for Thornden to continue. “Things have not been well since you left,” Thornden finally said, lifting his head. “And I guess I was surprised at your sudden return. I know it’s not much as an excuse to be rude to an old friend returning, but I hope you’ll accept it.”

[littlemanpoet]

Falco offered his right hand with an amiable smile, and Thornden took it.

"Bygones are bygone, then."

They shook hands, then grabbed their tankards.

"A toast!" Falco offered. "To friendship at Scarburg, and may Eodwine recover!"

"Aye!" Thornden replied heartily, and they drank deeply.

"Ah!" Falco said momentarily, "the grain fields of Rohan produce a fine liquid crop!"

[Folwren]

Thornden agreed with Falco with a nod of his head. “Sometime, you will have to tell me how you found your Shire, and what has brought you back again so soon. The tale will have to wait, however. Soon lord Athanar will be here and there will be other matters to attend to and other words to hear. And, besides that, there are others who want to meet you.” He indicated the men standing about with a nod and a grin, and then stood up.

He walked away, and as he passed through the soldiers clumped near, but not too near the hobbit, he clapped Hilderinc on the shoulder. “Go and see him now, there’s no formation to keep.” He smiled, containing his mirth at the general hanging back, and went on.

He wanted to Harreld now, before the events of the evening was set into motion. Athanar had mentioned a sort of celebration to take place that night, and the would likely mean there would be no quiet time to talk once the speaking and songs began. But Harreld was nowhere in sight. He walked about the hall for several minutes looking here and there for Harreld. Several times he saw Ginna serving the men, but he did not approach her.

Thornden soon figured Harreld must still be in his smithy. If Ginna’s father had written to forbid the marriage, it would not be surprising for Harreld to be withdrawn and seek solace in his place of work. Thornden immediately went out, shivering against the cold, and hurried through the deepening night to the smithy.

[Lhunardawen]

The workload over supper, with all the men returning, was the price the women paid for the free time they had earlier that day. Ginna had barely set down the empty tray she was holding when Frodides pushed another one toward her, hardly visible through the steam emanating from the bowl of stew it held. She waved off the steam to see the tray more clearly and carried it without another word.

"Ginna, wait."

She turned. Modtryth hurried over to her and placed a ladle on the tray. They traded smiles, and Ginna went on her way back to the hall. She navigated towards one of the farther tables where no food has yet been served, all the while keeping an eye open for Harreld. She had not seen him again after she left him, not even during the noontime meal. Perhaps he was really just overwhelmed by the work he had to do and could not be bothered. But no, she knew him well enough. He had never turned her away in such a manner because he was too busy. Ginna recalled what she had told Modtryth earlier, that for a time it felt like she had to woo him. It had not been easy. But would she have to do it again? Had he let the insecure thoughts he used to have creep back into his mind? Had he listened to them, believed them to be true? Ginna felt a pang in her chest at the idea. She thought they were past that. So what is really going on? The same question had eaten at her all day.

As she reached the table she saw Thornden leave the hall. She wanted to follow him out and make towards the smithy, but she knew better than to abandon her work. She and Harreld needed to talk, but not tonight. She disliked waiting but she would wait until he came to her, and hope that she was not waiting in vain.

[littlemanpoet]

It was dark out. Harreld had not gone to mid day meal after all, hobbit or no hobbit. He had not been ready to face Ginna.

He had watched over Raban and Javan after working with them to make a space for the boy's lessons. Raban had insisted on using his own tools. Harreld had kept watch out of the corner of his eye while continuing with his own work.

The boy's lessons over, Harreld had offered to pay the boy a silver coin to go to Frodides and bring back food and drink to the smithy. The coin proved the incentive needed, and Javan had come back quickly, with more than enough food.

He was hungry again. Tongs and hammer put away for the day, Harreld rubbed blades and soup ladles and other items with a cloth, bringing out a shine.

"Hello?" Someone called at the door.

"Come in," Harreld said.

In the lamp light Harreld saw Thornden.

"Greetings, Thornden. Have you news of Garreth? Or of the day's events?"

[Folwren]

Thornden entered. The smithy was still warm from the day’s fire. “No, we have not heard back from Garwine or Athanar’s man. We expect them back late tonight. I can tell you of today’s work, though.” And he did so, telling him what had passed in a concise way that neither embellished what had happened nor downplayed it. “We completed what we set to do, at least,” he finished. “They promised to send the grain and animals within the next week. We’ll soon be well set for winter.”

When he ended, they were both silent a moment. Harreld continued to polish away at the utensils. Thornden’s eyes were fixed on the glowing embers in the furnace while he thought about what he wanted to say next. After a while of contemplating several ways of making the approach in a side-ways, or indirect manner, he decided that going straight at it was probably going to be the best way.

“Did the letter for Ginna’s father not bear the news you two were expecting?” he asked.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld's smooth polishing motion stopped. He let out a heavy audible sigh. That was no doubt answer enough for Thornden, but he knew he would have to say the words. He stared at the ladle, the pain inside threatening to burst to his throat. His dried out eyes moistened again. He refused to blink, or turn to face Thornden. At least the useless moisture didn't dribble down his face.

"No," he said in a half choked gruffness, "it did not."

He began polishing again. There was no way he could bring himself to tell Thornden the good news for him. That would have to come Ginna. It would be more appropriate. He would say no more unless asked. The man just stood there, to his side and behind him, as if he had more to say. Well, let him say what he would. Harreld would not aid him. He was too distraught and tired on the inside to help others with their words.

[Folwren]

“No, it did not.” That was all. He did not say anything else. Thornden looked at him. He could only see his dark, silhouetted form, and his face was turned away from him. He was intensely still, stiff, even, despite the mechanical motion of his hands polishing.

Thornden looked down and fidgeted with his empty hands. Mildly, he envied Harreld’s pre-occupation. He wanted to say something to ease Harreld’s mind and his distress, but he did not know what to say, and he felt the matter was delicate. Perhaps Saeryn had been right. Maybe it was not his place to approach Harreld without invitation.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” he said slowly. “If Randver just wrote and told Ginna that he did not give her his blessing, she would have told Saeryn. And she didn’t.” What was he trying to say? He stopped for a minute, regrouping his thoughts. He looked again at Harreld. The smith had not responded. “I mean, Randver’s disapproval had never stopped Ginna showing interest in you before. I don’t think a letter will change her for long. Give her time.”

Harreld made little reaction even to that. Thornden again looked down, wondering what was troubling him so intensely. He thought that by now, he would have struck on what the trouble had been, but nothing he had said had seemed right.

“Have you talked to Ginna about it? Are you certain he said no without any exception?”

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld grated his teeth. Now Thornden was prying.

"Thornden," he said curtly, "what I have talked to Ginna about is my affair. As to what the letter said, you had best ask her. It was sent to her, not me."

Finally he turned to face Thornden, a scowl on his face so as to hide any other feeling that might threaten to show itself.

"On your way back to the hall, please send Javan with food and drink. I will have my supper here. Tell him he will be rewarded. He will know what I mean."

He turned back to his work and wished mightily that the man would take the hint and leave him alone.

[Folwren]

Saeryn mulled over what Thornden had told her about the letter to Ginna as she returned her tray to the kitchen and reloaded it. It was odd that Ginna had told her nothing, even if the letter had contained bad news. With a pang of regret, Saeryn realized she had not even noticed Ginna acting in any particularly sad way. She had been so preoccupied with Lady Wynflaed that she hadn’t had a chance to hardly look at Ginna, much less speak to her. Perhaps Ginna would have spoken to her, but did not because Saeryn had been so busy.

As Saeryn came again into the hall bearing the full tray, she looked about for Ginna. She saw her at once, looking towards the door of the hall. Saeryn followed her gaze and just saw Thornden exiting. She looked again at Ginna and noticed how her eyes remained fixed on the door for several seconds after Thornden had left. She guessed her thoughts as she came up to her side.

“He’s going to talk to Harreld,” she said. Ginna started and turned about. “Thornden told me you received a letter this morning, and we’re both concerned that it bore you bad news. He’s gone to speak to Harreld about it, I think.”

--

Thornden

Thornden nodded, standing up from where he’d been leaning his weight against a work table. “Alright,” he said softly. “I’ll send Javan out with something.” He walked slowly towards the door and paused on the threshold.

“I’m sorry if I was too forward,” he said, half turning back. “I should have waited, like Saeryn told me. I hope you have not taken my questions amiss. I meant nothing by them.” He waited a moment for Harreld to respond, and when the smith said nothing, he turned and went out into the cold night.

[Lhunardawen]

"Thornden told me you received a letter this morning, and we’re both concerned that it bore you bad news. He’s gone to speak to Harreld about it, I think."

"I doubt he would gain anything from it," replied Ginna, glancing back at the entrance to the hall. "Harreld doesn't want to talk even to me. I wasn't able to tell him about the letter."

She turned her attention back to the tray in her hands. She set down the bowl of stew on the table and placed the ladle inside it. As her head was bowed, she let the tears that brimmed suddenly in her eyes spill down to her cheeks, then quickly wiped them away before she looked back at Saeryn.

"I hoped to talk to you this morning, but you seemed too busy. I didn't want to burden you further."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc didn't want to make it seem too obvious, but the truth was, he had intentionally moved near Falco and Thornden – maybe also, partially, because he wanted to overhear what Thornden was talking about. But he didn't dare to come too close, so he didn't hear anything from his and the holbytla's conversation. When Thornden approached him rather merrily – looking surprisingly happy, Hilderinc thought – he was thinking for a moment about leaving, but then, since Thornden himself had somehow nudged him to do it, he decided to approach the strange little fellow now. He cast an unreadable look after Thornden, then picked up his mug and quickly walked through the cluster of soldiers towards the hobbit. He pulled out the neighboring empty seat.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked, putting his mug down on the table. "Falco, right? I am Hilderinc."

"Seats are free at Scarburg, I'm told," said the hobbit. He stood and bowed deeply. "Falco Boffin at your service, Hilderinc."

Amusing manners, Hilderinc thought, but briefly nodded his head and sat down.

"I have not had the chance to meet any of your kind before," he started casually, but even stating the obvious had brought more thoughts which had been swirling through his mind all day, and put words into his mouth before he could realise it. "You see," he said and his eyes suddenly seemed more sharp, more vivid; "just at the times when everything had seemed clear, and every deed seemed laid out before men like a wide plain in the morning light before a horse..." He waved his arm and shook his head. "Small folk out of old tales came, along with many other strange things and creatures, and brought our world to an end, turning it upside down."

Falco grinned. This Hilderinc was an Eorling to the bone, his speech full of the imagery of the plains of Rohan. "Well, I wish I could say I had a part in it, but I was cooped up in the Shire trying to stay out of the way of Ruffians and the like. They turned our world upside down as sure as Master Meriadoc and his friends did yours!"

Shire, Ruffians, Meriadoc - Hilderinc didn't let it show, but the chattiness of this little man confused him for a moment. Falco reminded him of some of the talkative peasants from Eastfold, assuming everyone knew everyone, even if they came from the middle of nowhere.

"Shire, is that what you call your land?" he said aloud, trying to sound polite. "I have only heard about it, tales about..." he hesitated, not sure whether his knowledge was right, and if it was not, then if it won't offend Falco. After all, living in a hole didn't sound, at least to an Eorlinga, very well. "...about your homes in the ground," he finished, trying to use a more neutral word. "What are 'Ruffians'?" The way the holbytla had used the word, it seemed to Hilderinc as if he had something specific in mind.

"Ruffians," said Falco, puffing his pipe, "were the nasty man-sized blokes who came up from Isengard with old Sharkey. I guess he had another name, a wizard name, Saruman. But we kicked all of them out when the Four Famous Hobbits came back from the War." He paused for a long pull from his tankard. Hilderinc didn't speak, he was frowning slightly, as if his mind was troubled by some memory stirred by the halfling's words. He was listening, but Falco already changed the subject.

"Homes in the ground," Falco quoted. "I daresay that's a friendlier way of putting it than Lady Wynflaed, though she meant no harm of course; 'holes in the ground' indeed!" Falco grinned. "Our homes are cozy and warm and watertight. The best ones are furnished with great larders and wine cellars and cozy living rooms, and of course, proper kitchens. So except for being underground, they're like what you'd expect in your own home."

How lucky to have used a "friendlier" term, Hilderinc thought. Still, living in the ground – whether you did or did not call it a hole – sounded strange to him. As Falco spoke, he started imagining some sort of bear's den with multiple rooms, including living room with a bed and a table, a wine cellar (under the underground hole?) and a kitchen with a stove. He shook his head a bit at the idea.

"Your land still sounds like a very strange place to me," he said. "But then, maybe it is always like that with strange lands we do not know. You said you 'kicked out' these Ruffians – does it mean you fought them? That would make your people sound more like warriors, maybe more akin to us. I have heard that it was your people who killed that treacherous snake, Wormtongue – is that true? Have you perhaps seen it with your own eyes? Or even took part in it? I hope you do not take it as an offense, Master Falco, when I say that you do not look exactly like a warrior to me, but maybe the appearance is deceptive – after all, your kinsmen were the ones who..." and he waved his hand, indicating all the important events of the time: the fall of the Dark Tower and that of Orthanc, the last ride of Théoden and the return of the Gondorian King.

[littlemanpoet]

"No slight meant, no offense taken, Hilderinc," said the Hobbit. "I was there at Sharkey's end. Many of us were. I won't say my arrow was one of those that slew that miscreant Wormtongue, but I saw him and his master die. I was proud to watch Mr. Frodo Baggins that day; noble as an elf he was, they say, though I wouldn't know as I can't say I've ever seen one. Aye, we fought them we did, once we had such doughty leaders as the Four Famous Hobbits from the War. They roused us. Aye, it was good to be roused! I grant you we don't look warrior-like and all, and truth be told, we'd rather eat and quaff good ale and smoke good leaf and tend to our crops and stock. But if our homes need defending, and we have the right kind of Hobbit to lead us, then watch out. Yes, watch out, or you'll be sorry." Falco winked over his pipe bowl and blew a smoke ring that traveled up toward the kitchens then changed directions where it met steam from the kitchen, and wafted back over their heads and into the mess hall.

Hilderinc followed it with his eyes, and he felt again something unnatural in the presence of the little man. Now Falco spoke almost like a warrior, and not so different from any man Hilderinc would know... yet still, the halfling's earlier words were what made him feel strange. During the whole conversation, it wasn't even the subject of the Famous Hobbits, as Falco had called them – a matter that would have been certainly more of interest to many of his fellow soldiers – which Hilderinc had been paying attention to. His thoughts were different, returning back to the times of the Great War and his own memories of it.

If somebody had told me sixteen years ago that one day I will be sitting next to a holbytla who had seen the death of Saruman of Isengard and Wormtongue the traitor in the land of the halflings, I would have considered him a madman, he thought. He shook his head, as if trying to prevent memories of the old days from getting loose in his mind.

"I won't deny that the more I hear about your people, the more surprised I am," he said at length. "You have seen things my people wouldn't believe. But now I am sure your friends among the local folk value your friendship and experience. Did you know the late lord of Scarburg?"

"Know him! We came down from the Shire to Rohan together last year. By then we were fast friends. You see," Falco looked around to make sure no-one else was listening, then put his hand to one side of his mouth and leaned in towards Hilderinc. "I saved his life," he said with a wink, then settled back again. "With the help of a few others, I'll admit. It would seem one of the Dark Lord's underlings survived the war and put up shop far to the north, and the Kings of Gondor and Rohan had sent Eodwine up north to scout out reports that there was some devilry up that way. Well, Eodwine found it, but not before the villains found him and captured him; but his horse got away and came back to the inn where Eodwine had stayed, and a search party was got up, and I was one of 'em.

"We found the scoundrel's hideout, up north of Deadman's Dike - Fornost, Men call it - snuck in, and rescued Eodwine from some evil spell that was being brewed up on the spot, and I had the privilege of dealing the death blow to the lout. Herugor, he called himself, supposedly he'd been the Mouth of that Dark Lord, if that makes any sense.

"So I s'pose King Eomer rewarded Eodwine with this here Middle Emnet for his troubles, though I did more work than he, silly old fool, getting captured so easy an' all. But we became fast friends." Falco peered over his pipe to see Hilderinc's eyes looking back at him wider than they'd been so far. "What don't you believe my tale?" Falco grinned.

[Folwren]

"I hoped to talk to you this morning, but you seemed too busy. I didn't want to burden you further."

Saeryn felt a pang of guilt. She set her hand on Ginna's arm. "I'm sorry, Ginna," she said quietly. "I was busy this morning, but you don't need to hesitate about telling me you want to talk. We can find time. When we're finished serving here, we can talk if you want to. We're just about done, and if I make it out before lord Athanar comes in, we'll be able to slip away unnoticed."

"That would be great. Thanks." Ginna covered Saeryn's hand with her own and forced a smile. "Have you - have you heard anything of Harreld all day?"

Saeryn shook her head and led Ginna towards the next table to be served. They moved down past the men side by side, talking as they went.

"I haven't seen him all day," she said. "He sent Javan in sometime during the afternoon to get something for Harreld to eat. He did not come in for the noonday meal, and he has not come in tonight, either. Did you not speak to him at all, Ginna?"

So that was how he managed to take his meal without being seen. Ginna wondered if he would send for Javan again to bring him supper, and briefly considered going in his stead. No, she wouldn't. She had already decided to stay away as he asked.

"No." She swallowed, and tried again. "Yes. I had come to his smithy this morning, when I received the letter. He..." she hesitated, blinking back tears, "He told me to leave him to his work."

Saeryn looked at her quickly and then glanced about at the busy hall and the laughing and talking soldiers. She did not want Ginna to cry here and draw attention and embarrassment to herself. "Let us finish what is at hand before speaking more. We have but one more table to serve and it will only take another trip to the kitchen."

They went back to the kitchen, quickly reburdened their trays, and went out once more. In a couple minute they were finished. Modtryth would be able to hold the fort for a little while now on her own. Saeryn drew Ginna into the room where they slept and then sat her down on one of the beds while she sat down facing her.

"Alright, tell me all about it," she said.

Ginna opened her mouth to speak, but here and now, in the silence and privacy of the room, no words would come. She shook her head in frustration.

"I'm sorry," was all she could say, and reached inside the pocket of her apron for the letter. She handed it to Saeryn.

Saeryn touched her hand reassuringly as she took the letter without looking at it. She caught Ginna's eye briefly. "It's alright. I understand. Are you sure you want me to read it?"

Ginna nodded mutely. Saeryn unfolded the letter and began to read. As her eyes traced over the words, a slow red crept up her neck, flushing into her cheeks and across her ears. Her lips pressed together, and then she folded the paper up again and held it in her hand a long moment before saying anything. In truth, the letter had so angered her that she did not trust herself to speak.

"Do you like Thornden?" she asked, hesitantly.

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar went straight to his quarters as he was both tired and dirty. Lilige was preparing a bath for him and Wynflaed looked anxious about the news, even if the smiling faces of the riders coming in to the yard had swept the darkest doubts from her mind already.

"How did it go my dear?" she half whispered while taking off the mailcoat from his husband.

Lord Athanar grasped her hand into his own and turned her to face him. "It went well my dearest, it went very well... in the end."

He didn't give Wynflaed a chance to make any further questions but kissed her on the cheek gently.

"Bath is ready my lord!" Lilige announced her back against the couple. Turning around she realised the inconvenient timing of her announcement. She blushed slightly but Athanar wawed his hand on her smiling.

"Thank you Lilige. I'm in need of it." Turning to his wife he whispered quietly "It's all going to be fine... trust me. We have it now under control."

Wynflaed looked hesitant but then nodded to her husband.


Athanar took a bath and then took on some finer clothes to join the people downstairs. Wynflaed had prepared herself meanwhile as well and so the fine pair entered the hall where the general feeling had already risen considerably. People were drinking and eating and having generally a merry time for it. They glanced at each other and smiled. Everything was allright right now.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

The holbytla was right: Hilderinc, at first, really did not believe what he had just heard. But the holbytla's behavior and honest expression indicated that he was not making things up.

"What don't you believe my tale?"

"I have to say, no, I really won't," Hilderinc said, taking a sip from his mug in order to somewhat focus his thoughts. "Except that everything you have told me before has kind of prepared me for such a tale... but I made a mistake, Master Falco, when I said that you have seen things my people wouldn't believe. You see, now it is even me who wouldn't believe..." He shook his head. "So this is how it is. You and lord Eodwine have been old friends. I have been wondering what would bring one such as you to this place, but then I assume you might know Scarburg much better than me. But you probably must feel sorry for what has befallen your friend."

[littlemanpoet]

Falco nodded. "He always seems to get himself in some kind of trouble," he responded lightly in the manner of Hobbits, as if all Eodwine had done was sprain an ankle.

"I think that I will be off to Minas Tirith soon, to see how he's faring. Word is that the King is a healer. If so, then he's in the right place."

Falco looked past Hildrinc. "Ah, your lord and lady have entered the Hall. I fear our talk must cease. Looks like he's bursting with a speech."

[Lhunardawen]

Ginna noticed the blush creeping up Saeryn's face, and her eyes widened in sudden recollection of the entire content of her father's letter. She had been rash, too caught up in her own troubles with Harreld. She wanted to tell Saeryn about some forgotten errand and leave the room but was frozen where she sat, waiting awkwardly for her to react. She fixed her gaze at the clasped hands on her lap.

"Do you like Thornden?"

She looked up at Saeryn, eyebrows in a knot. That was not among the things she expected her to say. She wondered if she was not taking the letter seriously, or if she merely wanted to lighten up her mood. But her expression was serious, if not muted to conceal a stronger emotion. Ginna let out an empty laugh.

"Have I not - all this time - spoken of nothing but my concern for Harreld, inquired of nothing but his wellbeing? How could you ask me that?" She was struck by the strength of her speech and took a deep breath to calm herself. When she continued, her voice was lower.

"My father likes Thornden for a son-in-law. I like him, too, but not in the same way. I know with whom my affections lie, my lady."

[Folwren]

“That is well,” Saeryn said, nodding. “If that is how you feel about it, then I should say that you should not be concerned about this letter.” That sounded cruel, as though she were saying, ‘all your worry and pain from today are for nothing.’ Saeryn bowed her head and tried to think again on what to say.

“Your father presumed a great deal when he wrote this letter to you.” She paused and once more had to hold in check words of distaste of Randvér’s unfeeling, even insulting, predictions. “But it seems to me that he made clear that if you could not marry Thornden, he would not forbid your marriage to Harreld. Just now, you have told me that your feelings and affections are for Harreld alone. I do not think your father would wish you to be unhappy, and if breaking your ties with Harrled in attempt to pursue Thornden would make you unhappy, then he would not ask you to do it. Besides. . .” she smiled a little bit, “even if you did attempt to set your cap to Thornden, I don’t think it would work. He doesn’t seem to want to marry anybody, and he would sooner cut off his own right hand than take you away from Harreld.

“So, I say, Ginna, not to worry very much about it. Talk with Harreld about it. Perhaps don’t tell him that your father prefers Thornden to him, but tell him that he did not forbid you two to marry, although he is concerned of Harreld’s working status. Harreld will understand. He took that into consideration when he started courting you. You two will talk and will come to a decision about what is best to be done.

“But you said you have tried talking to him. Tell me what happened and why you two haven't discussed it yet. Have you already told him that your father wants you to marry Thornden? Is that why he's shut himself up in his smithy all day?"

[Lhunardawen]

"I have told him nothing of this letter. I never had the chance." Ginna struggled to keep her impatience, fueled by her distress over Harreld's behaviour, in check. She knew Saeryn was trying to help, and appreciated the time she was spending to talk to her, but it had been thrice now that Ginna said the same thing. Saeryn had a busy day, she reminded herself before she continued. "I do not understand why he is avoiding me - or everyone, it seems. I cannot find anything to explain his mood. Unless..."

No, she did not want to think it. Her throat tightened. She trusted Harreld. He would never betray her trust.

"Unless what?" Saeryn asked gently. Her quick female instincts told her that Ginna was keeping something very important trapped inside.

"Unless he had read the letter." Ginna's face contorted in pain as she forced out those words. "And he came to a different understanding of it as you have."

Saeryn raised her eyebrows without thinking about it. "Oh," she said. "Well, that's not. . ." she almost said, 'not very likely, is it?' but stopped, knowing that it was a probable explanation. Perhaps the only probable one. "Well, if he has, then I guess you'll have to correct his misunderstanding."

Ginna's mind still fought against what her mouth had just uttered. But now that the idea had been planted, it became more and more believable, if only because nothing else made sense. She ran through the mockery of a conversation they had that morning, keeping that explanation in perspective. It felt as though she had finally found the missing piece in a puzzle she had been trying to solve all day.

Not that it made her pain any less.

"He asked - no, he told me to stay away."

"He did?" Saeryn said. "I wonder if it was to protect you or to protect himself. If I know Harreld, he probably did it for your sake. Which makes it even more necessary for you to talk to him.

"Ginna," she went on, before Ginna could even try to interrupt, "there were many times that Eodwine and I did not see quite eye to eye on things. I am sure I hurt him a lot by bottling up my thoughts, and it just made the misunderstanding worse in the end. But when he could finally break through my shell, he made it all make sense and we understood each other again. Even when I did not want to give him a chance, he kept trying to make me understand."

Ginna was silent for a while, lost in her own thoughts. When she spoke, a wistful smile was on her lips.

"When we were newly arrived here in Scarburg, when I feared I had lost his friendship for good... I remember complaining to myself how unfair that it was always I who first spoke to him, never the other way around. By all rights I should think it unfair even now," she added, laughing. "But I guess that is how matters are resolved between us because I will not have it any other way. I know now that if I don't try to reach out to him, I would never forgive myself.

"But if I may ask you one more thing... Why did you want to know if I liked Thornden?"

"I wanted to know your feelings on the matter before giving you my opinion as to the usefulness of the content of your father's letter. If you had liked Thornden, I would have possibly told you to take your father's advise, as it will be easier for you if you have your father's blessing your marriage. I did not think you did, but I thought that maybe there was a chance. Now I know there is not."

There was a slight pause, and then she asked. "So, what are you going to do?"

~*~

Leaving Saeryn with Modtryth, whom she thanked for taking over their duties, Ginna left the kitchen through the door in the back. As she stepped out into the dark, a strong breeze lifted the edge of her shawl. She held it more tightly around her and walked resolutely towards the smithy.

There was light inside, but the pounding of her heart drowned out any sound that came from it. She let herself soak in the light from the doorway but came no closer inside. "Harreld?" she called out in a small voice.

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar and Wynflaed took their places in the hall and took a moment to just grasp the feeling in the hall. People seemed merry and busy and that pleased lord Athanar who was remembering the first party they had thrown. It was so different now. Nothing ties people together better than a common enemy... but we need more as I hope the lords will not stay our enemies in the long run. But now we should use it to the maximum effect to heal what there is to be healed. He took a draught form the goblet of wine he was given and stood up banging the table in front of him loudly with his open palm to get the attention.

"Dear people of Scarburg!" he called the people, getting the silence he wished.

"I suggest we all raise a goblet to our success today! We had some trying moments in Faramund's Hall early on the day but we made it. Not the least because of your discipline, restraint and pulling together of you all... That is the way Scarburg Mead Hall prevails here and earns the respect it should for itself, and to the King and Rohan! Hail Scarburg!" With that he raised his goblet waiting for the people to raise theirs.

"Long live Scarburg Mead Hall!" he yelled and the people returned the call with a lot of noise. "Let's drink to us, the Mead Hall!" Athanar went on and lifted the goblet onto his lips drinking it all the way down with one draught. The soldiers were cheering as he emptied his goblet and were soon following his example. "And have one round for Coen and Thornden as well! They really proved their qualities today", He added smiling while the people drank and cheered.

Lord Athanar was looking around the soldiers' partying with approval. It was going the way it needed to go and soon the nightmares of the past would be forgotten. It looked so much better right now.

Lord Athanar sat back to his chair and smiled to Wynflaed. "It's going to be allright darling... It's going to be just fine", he said and gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

Suddenly he spotted Falco from the crowd - and Hilderinc sitting beside him. He remembered the encounter from the morning and was wondering what the holbytla was doing here anyway, and he hadn't been coming forwards to present himself as yet. He would wait a little though as he realised he had himself just entered the hall. A decent guest would come forwards and introduce himself anyway.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc had cheered with the others during Athanar's speech, raising his mug to the safe accomplishment of their most important duty. He began to feel comfortable again, with the increasing amount of ale and the good meal, in the warmth of the Hall and seeing everything going well. No problems or brawls this evening, no troublemakers in sight. Hilderinc was thinking this as he raised his mug again to the Scarburg, and then as he was raising it for the second time, something struck him – the unpleasant memory from the morning.

"And have one round for Coen and Thornden as well! They really proved their qualities today!" Athanar exclaimed, but Hilderinc shot his lips and fixed his gaze upon Thornden. His eyes met Coenred's, who was looking around the crowd with his own goblet raised, looking into the eyes of the men toasting him. Their gazes remained fixed at each other for a while, then Coenred looked away. Hilderinc wondered whether the Captain had told anything about Thornden's possible treachery to Athanar already, or if not – which seemed likely – when was he planning to do it.

He shrugged the unpleasant thought away, after all, it was not his concern now anymore. He will do what he must if he is asked to do something, but not now. He looked down at Falco by his side.

"So, how did you like our lord's speech?" Hilderinc asked, trying to put on a smile. "Sometimes his speech is rather curt, but to the point – something of a soldier in him, I think." He looked back at Athanar at the exact time when Athanar had turned towards them, and Hilderinc noticed that he was looking at Falco with some interest. It didn't take long, but Hilderinc nodded at the hobbit and without moving, he raised his thumb, pointing towards Athanar.

[littlemanpoet]

After draining his tankard to the toast, Falco wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"A fine speech, the kind one would expect from the master of ceremonies. I can tell you of one speech I heard back in the Shire, that was altogether inappropriate, and ended up with the master of ceremonies disappearing before our very eyes, if you will believe me!" Just then he noticed Hilderinc pointing to Lord Athanar.

"Well, Hilderinc, it's a good guest that greets the master of the house on such a special occasion, isn't it."

Hilderinc nodded and allowed the Hobbit to pass by him. Many another Eorling was surprised to find what at first seemed to be an overly dressed child negotiating his way through a crowd of adults, was in actual fact a squirely Hobbit who new how to keep his large hairy feet from getting stepped on, and also knew how to put his best face forward, red as it was from a goodly quantity of ale. At last he reached the table of the lord and lady. He doffed his hat and bowed low in good Hobbit fashion.

"Master Falco Boffin at your service, my lord and lady. You keep a fine hall and first rate board and ale. I'm happy to congratulate you on a fine day's work. My errand was to find my old friend Eodwine, but I've been told that he is not here but is ill in Minas Tirith. I'm sure he would be honored to find such worthy Big People coming in Scarburg's time of need."

With that he stopped and looked at the lord, who seemed a noble fellow. From what Falco could tell, the Man seemed to be the kind who kept his own counsel and thought far more than he ever said. The coolness in the man's eyes suggested he was of the calculating sort. That could be good or bad, depending on whether the lord had good plans or bad. Time would tell. While these thoughts raced through his head, Falco kept his best respectful smile on his face.

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar wasn't quite sure whether the holbytla had been polite or sarcastic with his last remark, but he didn't let that show. He smiled back at Falco and waved his hand to show that the hobbit should take a seat.

As Falco had sat down lord Athanar looked at him in the eye and raised his goblet with a more serious expression in his face. "We're all saddened by the fate of lord Eodwine. I knew him not so well as to call him my friend, but I did know him, and I knew him as a good man. We were there in the Pelennor Fields both of us... and those experienes are not easily forgotten." He made a short pause as if reminiscing something. "I bid you welcome to Scarburg Hall master Falco", he said suddenly coming back to life again. "Stay as long as you please, and if you go to Minas Tirith make sure to visit us on your way back. There's not too much news coming from there..."

There was a slight distraction as Modtryth brought Falco a pint of ale.

"You must forgive me my curiosity, but how did you two become friends master Falco?" lord Athanar asked as they toasted their cups.

[littlemanpoet]

Falco thanked Modtryth for the tankard. As the lord of the hall put his question to him, Falco took a long pull: the ale was getting better as the day lingered.

"It was like this, my Lord," Falco replied, "I was in the party that rescued him from captivity in the Hills of Evendim, and he had to get nursed back to health after the bad treatment he'd suffered. So he stayed at one of our inns, which was in my village.

"Being the good man he was, he was grateful to me for saving his life and we talked often and long. He told me stories of Rohan and the Great War, and I told him the little I knew of the Four Famous Hobbits. By the time he was back in good health he said he was going back to Rohan. I asked him if he'd like a traveling mate, and he was willing.

"So by the time we had made it to Edoras, we were fast friends."

[Folwren]

Thornden did not trouble himself about Harreld for long. As soon as he had given Javan the errand of getting some supper for him, Thornden put him out of his mind and turned his thoughts again to the meal and the merry-making at hand. He entered the hall just before Athanar came in and he found himself a place to sit amongst a mixture of old and new Scarburgians. The two groups were mixing more freely now, and soon, he thought to himself, there would be no reason to differentiate who had been there longer.

He cheered with the others at Athanar’s short speech, nodded his head slightly when Athanar commended him and captain Coenred, and then, when the cheering and toasting was done, turned finally to his meal.

While he ate, he paid little attention to what went on about him. When he finished his first serving, he looked up and finally began taking notice of things. Falco sat by Athanar, and the two were talking away quite freely. Wynflaed sat on Athanar’s right, but Saeryn’s place was empty. Seeing that, Thornden turned his head to see if she was still serving people, but only Modtryth was in sight with a pitcher full of mead. Neither Ginna nor Saeryn were to be seen. Kara and Fordides, he assumed, were still busy at work in the kitchen.

“Well, that is good,” he said to himself. “Saeryn is probably talking to her about the letter. Perhaps she’ll find out more than I was able.”

And at that moment he saw Saeryn come out from the hall going towards the kitchen. She stood with her hands at her waist as though she were wiping them on her apron. Behind her, he saw a shadow dart across the hall and into the kitchen. Saeryn, standing in the opening, glanced over the people gathered their. Her eyes finally settled on Thornden. Their eyes met. Her eyes grew wide a moment and then she turned smartly about and disappeared into the kitchen as well.

[littlemanpoet]

Harreld heard the call, and the voice was unmistakable. Ginna. The general heaviness inside focused to a point of dread. It was time to say that which he had prepared, but he would not come to it with no preparation.

"I'm here," he answered. "Come in."

Ginna stepped cautiously inside, letting her eyes adjust to the light. She saw Harreld seated on a stool in the corner, but he stood when he saw her and set aside the mug he was holding. It took all her self-control to keep from coming to him with outstretched arms or charging towards him with closed fists - she was not sure which one she was closer to doing. There were a lot of words fighting to escape from her mouth but she suppressed them all, with a lot of effort. She had come to him, she had taken the first step. Now it was his turn.

She stood before him, arms folded across her waist, making sure as little emotion as possible could be discerned from her face aside from the questioning look in her eyes. She willed him to talk.

She was going to make him speak first. He realized that he should have expected this. It was not her way to be full of needless words; it was one of the things he loved about her. Thinking about his love, he almost broke down. With an effort he regained his composure, coughing into his fist.

"I am sorry for my hasty words this morning. Nobody deserves such shouting..." least of all, you, my love, he thought. He blinked, fighting back the moisture threatening to come to his eyes. "I apologize."

The sight of the Harreld nearly in tears was...almost impossible to believe. But there he was, showing his vulnerability in a manner he had never done before. Ginna's heart ached to extend forgiveness without delay. Instead, she took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Tell me, Harreld. Have you read my father's letter?"

There it was. He was sure she could see right through him to the guilt in his eyes. There was no getting around it. He wanted to explain before he even said he had, but felt it would be cowardly. It would be the right thing to do, to simply answer with the truth.

"Yes."

As much as Ginna expected the answer, she realised too late that she was unprepared to hear it from Harreld himself. She pursed her lips tightly and felt herself tremble from restrained emotion.

"And what came to your mind after you did?"

She was angry and had every right to be. He had planned to tell her that he did not love her anymore. It was a lie, but it had seemed at the time that it would be the cleanest way to end things. Now he could see that it would not work. He had imagined telling her the terrible news, and she would flee in horror and pain, and he would double over in pain at what he had said, telling himself that he did not deserve her if he could do such a thing to her.

And maybe he did not deserve her; but that way was not a true way, nor a good way, and he was relieved to set it aside. All these thoughts raced through his mind in a moment.

"That your father has spoken his will. He prefers Thornden to me. You will, of course, obey your father's will?" His question had come out more smoothly than he had expected, but he winced.

[Lhunardawen]

"That your father has spoken his will. He prefers Thornden to me. You will, of course, obey your father's will?"

The question stung, not only by its own words but also with the tone of finality with which Harreld said it. It was as though he had already made the decision for her, for both of them. Ginna looked deeply into the smith''s eyes. "Is that what you would have me do, Harreld?"

He could not hold back his pent up feelings. "It is not my choice!" She winced at the ferocity in his tone. He regretted it immediately. He sighed, took a deep breath, and spoke again in more measured tones. "Your father is your lord. It is his will that we do not marry. What more is there to say?"

"That you have not read my father's letter closely enough," she said, ignoring the single tear that had fallen down her cheek in response to Harreld's outburst. "It is not his will, merely his wish. The time for my father to impose his will on me has long passed."

Harreld stared at her, dumbfounded. He recalled the words from the letter as she spoke them, and she was right, Randvér had said 'wish', not 'will'. But any Eorling knew that the words meant the same when fathers had sons and daughters to marry off. Or was this some new way of courting brought from some foreign land like the Holbytlan Shire?

He did not know how to proceed, and fumbled through his thought until he landed on the question that seemed suddenly so obvious.

"Do you not want your father's blessing?

Ginna smiled sadly. "I used to think it did not matter. But when he met you, I had hoped we would gain his blessing... When he saw for himself how I have changed because of you."

In her mind she was brought back to a late afternoon under a tree not far from the smithy, when her father had first met Harreld. She recalled how Randvér had accused her of leading him on and how he had defended her and given her courage. Bolstered by this memory, she walked slowly towards Harreld and gently took his large hands into her own.

"We can change his mind, Harreld. We have accomplished a lot of things together, you and I. You will not abandon me now, will you?"

[littlemanpoet]

As she had come towards him, opposite urges fought within him, to flee, and to close the distance between them. He stood still. When she placed her small soft hands in his, he almost lost the battle. But no, it was not about abandoning her.

"If it were up to me, Ginna," he said softly, thickly, "we would marry tomorrow. But it is not. Your father's will cannot be so easily shunted aside. A father's wish or will concerning the marriage of a son or daughter are two words for the same thing. He is your lord, and will be until he gives you to the man of his choice. I am not that man, Thornden is. Thornden must be asked if he is willing to court you. Only then will it be permitted -" he stopped and closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them they were moist, but full of despair. "No, I see how this will go. If Thornden declines, your father will find another and another and another of higher station than me. It will go on and on until he wears us both down. It would be better to let me go now. It might lessen the pain for both of us. I'm sorry."

Ginna felt her arms weaken and dropped Harreld's hands from hers. But she held on to her resolve, however tenuously. She still had some fight left in her.

"You know Thornden, he would sooner cut off an arm and a leg than dishonour your friendship in such a way. And I would refuse any man my father might find. I would rather choose to grow old unwed.

"And if you think your pain will lessen in time," she continued, her voice rising as passion overcame her, "then you are a fool. It will not. It will consume you, and so will your guilt when you realise that you have doomed me to loneliness."

These were words she was sure she would come to regret, but she spoke out of a desperate fear. Her tears fell freely now, yet her eyes burned with an obstinate fire as they gazed upon Harreld's.

Seeing Ginna freely shedding tears, tore him within. He wished he could wipe them away, take her in his arms, and say that they could wed, and all else fall where it would. But this was not just about the two of them, would that it were.

"No, I do not think the pain will lessen, but we need not make it worse than it already is, which is hard enough to bear. I am not a man who would dishonor you by ignoring the will of your father. We cannot be wed. Life can be cruel. I wish it were otherwise. I love you but I cannot keep you. I am sorry, more than my words can say."

[littlemanpoet]

Ginna stood still, dumbstruck at his words. Her mind struggled to come up with a response but there was none. She had said all that she could, to no avail. She was spent. There was silence between them for a while. Finally her voice came, almost a whisper.

"Forgive me, I had thought only of myself. I love you, Harreld, and it is because of this love that I will respect your decision."

She touched his face, letting her hand linger for a few moments, and turned to leave.

Harreld reached out and caught her arm.

"Hold. Please."

She stopped, held by his hand, but did not face him.

"Ginna, please."

She turned. Tears were streaming into his beard. "I make one more decision. I do not see any way for us. But if a way may be found, I swear to you by all I am, I will walk it with you, though death take me. I swear it."

She looked up into his streaming eyes and gave him a weary, sad smile. "I wish Eodwine were here. He would know a way."

"Yes. He would. May he cheat death yet."

He took her in his arms and crushed her to him. Long moments passed before they let each other go.

[Folwren]

Saeryn had confirmed Ginna’s decision to go try to speak with Harreld again. Together they had gotten up and Saeryn embraced her quickly to give her support and courage, and then the two of them left the privacy of the room – Ginna to run through the kitchen where there would be fewer eyes to see her, and Saeryn to look to see what sort of condition the men in the hall were in and what needed to be done next.

As she looked out into the hall, her mind was still preoccupied with the conversation she had just had. When her eyes fell on Thornden and she saw him looking steadily at her, she remembered the letter Ginna had let her read, and the flame rushed back into her face. She turned and stormed into the kitchen.

“Kara,” she said. “Let me take your place. You’ve been in here all evening. Do you mind serving out there?”

Kara looked up. She had just turned out a lump of raised dough onto a board. “I wouldn’t mind at all, if you don’t mind kneading the bread.”

“Not at all!” Saeryn replied. “Take a pitcher of mead out, I imagine they’ll be thirsty for more of that. Modtryth is out there now; she’ll know better what is needed.” She rolled up her sleeves as she spoke and took Kara’s place at the bread board. She dusted the dough with flour and then took it up in her hands and began to press and push it, over and over against the board. She allowed the frustration and anger caused by the contents of the letter to pass to the bread, and her fists pummeled it fiercely, sending up satisfying clouds of flour occasionally.

How dare he say such things? she said to herself. How dare he even imply those things to his daughter? Eodwine is not dead, and even if he were, what kind of woman does he think I am? She thrust her hand viciously into the spongy mass. I marry Thornden! Indeed! The thought never crossed my mind. How dare he even presume. . .!

“You look as though you wish that dough were somebody’s face.”

Saeryn’s head snapped up and her eyes still contained the fury she felt. Her expression didn’t soften any when she saw it was Thornden. “What are you doing in here?” she asked. “This is no place for a man.”

Thornden laughed dryly. “In which case, it’s not the place for the lady of the hall, either.”

“I can be where I like.”

Thornden shrugged. “I tried to talk to Harreld.” Saeryn’s hands continued to knead the dough and she said nothing. “You were right. He wasn’t ready to talk.” He watched Saeryn continue to work with the bread and when the pause stretched into a long silence, he said, “What did you find out from Ginna?”

Saeryn’s temper flared. “That is none of your business!” she said, looking up at him. “Now, get out of here and quit meddling in this whole affair!”

“I’m not meddling any more than you were! I’m trying to figure out the right thing to do. You would not think that Eodwine were in the wrong-”

“You’re not Eodwine!” Saeryn said. “And you will never take his place!”

“I neither want nor intend to take his place,” Thornden said, bewildered at her answers. “All I’m trying to do-”

“I told you to leave it alone,” Saeryn said, her voice final and icy. “Go back to the hall and don’t talk to Harreld or Ginna about it anymore. It will do more harm than good.”

Thornden looked hard at Saeryn, and made no movement to go. Her barely contained anger and her impatience to see him gone made him stick more stubbornly with his purpose. “What is the matter, Saeryn? What did Ginna say that has made you so angry?”

“I told you it’s not your business!” she cried, her voice rising with anger. “Can’t you see that? I don’t want to talk to you!” She shot him a furious look, and picked up the entire kneading board, bread, and all and turned her back to him. Fordides turned from the fire and came across the floor towards him.

“See here, Thornden,” she said, “the kitchen’s no place for you. Can’t you see Saeryn’s all upset? Go on out now, and don’t trouble her anymore.”

There was no arguing with the kitchen’s ruler when you are just a visitor in the kitchen. Thornden looked once more over Fordides' head at Saeryn’s back and then he nodded and stalked silently out.

[Nogrod]

As the meal progressed, and the men about him drank and spoke and jested amongst each other, Coenred sat in a brooding silence. Now that the evening had come and the day had drawn to a close, he felt the unpleasant task of telling Athanar what he knew concerning Thornden pressing unpleasantly on his mind. Scarcely being aware that he did it, he watched Thornden's movements all evening. He was conscious when he left the hall to speak to Harreld, and he saw when he returned. He watched him from the corner of one eye the entire time he ate his meal. When Thornden stood again and went to the kitchen, Coenred could not keep still any longer. He stood and walked swiftly to where Athanar sat.

“My lord Athanar,” Coenred said, slipping into the vacant seat beside him where Saeryn would have sat had she not been serving. “May I speak with you on an important matter?”

Athanar turned towards his lieutenant and looked surprised. It was clear he had something pressing on him.

"Go on, Coen... tell me," Athanar said, giving Coen an encouraging look.

"Well," Coen said slowly, glancing around to check that no one was listening, "I think Thornden knows more of this Lithor and Erbrand affair than he has admitted. From things I have heard, I believe he saw them that day, after Erbrand's attack on Scyrr, and saw at least in what direction they went. Yet he said nothing."

Lord Athanar was taken aback with the news. He leaned back and took a long draught from the goblet while his mind worked furiously.

Coen watched his lord with some apprehension. He knew he had done rightly, but he did not look forward to the consequences. Athanar was a good lord and always took into consideration the longterm good, but sometimes his temper burned hot and fierce.

Yet suddenly lord Athanar gave a thoughtful smile. Coen looked at him, surprised but expectant.

"So, a traitor," Athanar murmured. "Or a man worth more I have been aware of?" He spoke low and Coenred had to lean his ear forward to hear him.

Slowly lord Athanar bent towards Coen and half-whispered to his ear: "Does anyone else know about it? Were there others who saw the two as they ran away?"

Coen shook his head slowly, thinking. "Hilderinc, I think, has an idea. I don't think any other of our men know. I don't know about Eodwine's men or the labourers, but I'd guess no, or not many. I don't know more, sir".

Athanar raised his eyebrow. "Very well, Coen. Tell Hilderinc to keep his mouth shut - if he knows anything - or to only talk to me about it. And keep your ears open if you hear anyone else talking about it. Give Hilderinc the same advice. This mead may loosen some tongues." Lord Athanar glanced around the merry gathering as he spoke.

"I will handle this with Thornden in private. If you see him, ask him to come to me, just casually. Don't tell him what it is about. Understood?"

Coen nodded and stood up. He went at once towards Hilderinc and tapping him on his shoulder, drew him away from the group of men with whom he sat and ate.

[Thinlómien]

Wulfric had been on a dark mood all evening and stormed off some hour ago after Théodfara - one of Athanar's stupidest soldiers and Wulfric's childhood playmate - had made an exceptionally stupid joke about dogs with various human bodyparts in place of their heads. Wilheard couldn't blame his elder brother for being moody after the recent events, but neither could he understand why Wulfric insisted on being so surly. There was little he could do about his situation just now, so why didn't he just adapt instead of brooding over it? "Oh bugger him, I hope he finds some kitchen maid to comfort him," he muttered.

"Kitchen maid, you said?" asked Osmund. He was one of the local soldiers, an amiable chap who had been quick to befriend Athanar's folk. He was quick to laugh, and liked to talk, especially about women. "I'm afraid our kitchen maids aren't very available, though. Kara - the curvy beauty with dark eyes - they say she had something with Erbrand - the guy who disappeared yesterday - so I doubt she'd be too excited to comfort any other men right now. Well - who knows women? Maybe she'd need some manly comfort.

Anyway, yeah, that's it about her. She surely has her way to cope with admirers so your brother - or anyone else of you guys, just saying - should know what they're doing when wooing her or else it's lost, especially if Frodides happens to appear. She's the old hag who prepares all this delicious food, bless her, but I doubt any of you would be so desperate that you'd try her. Although maybe she's had time to gather experience..."

There was general laughter, but a majority of the newcomers were listening to Osmund with avid ears. It was not everyday you heard useful information about the local women. "Then there's Ginna, oh she's sure a beautiful sight - I guess you must know whom I mean! Wouldn't you say she's perfect? However, everybody knows she and our smith Harreld have a serious thing for each other - and anyway she's noble born so that's aiming pretty high for us mere rascals and, yeah, well they say those noble girls are brought up in a different manner than the steady peasant folk, of course I have no first hand experience so..."

"They are quite different, I assure you, but all the better if you succeed in wooing them," Wilheard interrupted in a mischevious tone, and everybody laughed. Truth be told he didn't have much experience with girls, but you could learn a lot by just observing Wulfric and listening to his stories.

"Oh yes, well you're a nobleman sir so you sure know both!" Osmund said. "But what I was saying? Oh yes, that however sad that might be, she is definitely out of bounds. Then there's Modtryth of course - I actually think she's quite good-looking, maybe would've been better ten years ago but can't help that I guess, but anyway I understand if you disagree, after all you can quite plainly see she is at least half a Dunlending. Well I always liked dark girls, maybe that's some quirk of mine..."

"The women!" Baldwic interrupted and banged his fist to the table. Wilheard laughed. Shy Baldwic became such a loud barbarian when drunk.

"Sure!" Osmund said. "Well I just wanted to say that she is a married woman so no good either. Her husband's the carpenter but surprisingly good with a sword or a staff! I heard he used to be a soldier too..."

"The women!" Baldwic interrupted again, and everybody roared with laughter. Wilheard knew he'd be teasing Baldwic about this for at least a month.

"Sorry sir, I'm afraid there aren't more, any more kitchen maids at least. Or there was Rowenna - that was a beauty well fitted to my tastes - but she's gone away, I don't know where. So I'm afraid we do lack a bunch of pretty, young and free kitchen maids which is a shame. You didn't happen to bring any with you?"

Slowly the talk died out, and drinking became more serious. Wilheard tried hard to keep up with the rest, but the truth was that he had less experience with drinking and less bulk than many of the soldiers, so after some time he started feeling sleepy and some time later he found himself under the table. It was actually quite comfortable there, listening to the voices of the talking and laughing soldiers. Wilheard had never been the sociable type, but sometimes company was good, and these soldiers were good men. He drifted back to unconsciousness...

...And then he was awake again. A quarrel had broken out between two very loud men and their shouts screeched Wilheard's ears. He decided to get away, but all he could see was men's legs everywhere.

He started crawling until he was closer to the end of the table. He was alarmed to hear his father's voice amidst the general hubbub of noises. He was talking to somebody and now, he stopped. Wilheard hoped his father wouldn't find him under the table - Athanar didn't approve either of his drinking or of his pitiable tolerance of alcohol, Wilheard had never figured out which one - but he was relieved to find out he wasn't actually paying attention. With all the hustle and dogs going around and occasionally popping under the table it was quite safe to be a drunk man lying under the table.

"Go on, Coen, tell me," Athanar said and Wilheard pinched his own ears to keep awake. This would surely be something interesting, Coen was by far the most observant man in Athanar's company - Wilheard himself possibly excluded, but then again, Coenred could read men the way Will never could - and he didn't waste his words or his lord's attention on nonsense.

Horrified and excited on the occasions when he could concentrate on listening, Wilheard heard Coenred tell about Thornden's treachery and Athanar give some very peculiar orders. It was all very peculiar, Wilheard thought, but he couldn't force his concentration anymore, and it seemed like Athanar was giving some final orders to his captain.

Wilheard drifted back to unconsciousness. He knew he had just heard something he should tell Wulfric, but it was already slipping from his memory...

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc was just in the middle of emptying another mug (of how many? He wasn't entirely sure anymore) when he noticed somebody slightly tapping his shoulder. He turned around and, to his surprise, saw Coen beckoning at him. Slightly worried about what the captain might require of him at this time, he followed Coen further away from the tables into one corner of the hall.

Like earlier with Athanar, Coen looked around carefully to see if nobody was listening.

"I have spoken to lord Athanar about what you had told me in the morning," he said. It took only a while to Hilderinc's slightly ale-influenced mind to figure out what Coen was talking about. He nodded to ensure Coen that he had understood what this was about. The captain's face showed relief that he did not need to speak of the matter in detail with the risk of being overheard.

"What did lord Athanar say, sir?" Hilderinc asked, suppressing a burp.

"He says that he will settle the matter himself – and that if you have anything more to say about it, you should talk about it only to him. He does not want you nor me to let any gossip spread among other men. Have you been talking about it to anyone else?"

"No, sir," Hilderinc said. "I had no reason to." He was trying his best to make the good impression, even though he felt his speech was somewhat stuttering.

"Then keep silent. But lord Athanar had also requested that you should keep your ears open in case you hear anybody talking about it or about anything that might be related."

"Aye, sir," Hilderinc nodded again. "I shall be on my guard, sir," he added, trying to sound firm.

Coenred seemed satisfied by that, because he only nodded and left him. Hilderinc cast a look at the table and his unfinished mug, then he decided that it might be good to get some fresh air just for a short while and come back later. He walked to the table, gulped what was remaining in one draught and then slowly retreated outside the hall.

[littlemanpoet]

Of course, it was just like Big Folk to disregard the presence, and the keen ears, of Hobbits when it suited them - or didn't suit them, as the case may be.

So Falco kept his face to his tankard and made himself as invisible as being small could make one, and listened to every word that passed between Lord Athanar and Coen, as the man was apparently called.

He also noticed the drunk crawling under the table, who seemed to get especially quiet as Athanar and Coen talked. Maybe the drunk heard and understood, maybe not.

One thing was sure: these Eorlings did not reckon with Falco Boffin the Hobbit, and he would take advantage of it. Falco did not think over-well of Thornden, especially if treachery was his way; but Falco knew well enough about gossip from his days in the Shire to know that half of what was said about others was only half true, and the other half not true at all and in some cases the very opposite.

Falco would hold his tongue and withhold judgment, and watch and wait to see how things turned.