Scarburg Meadhall

[Gwathagor]

Al this high talk was getting the better of Crabannan. Who did this rabble think they were? He slammed his axe into a stump.

"Justice?!" he exclaimed. "What would a mob of Rohirrim know of justice and fate and maturity? These are eastern words, scholars' words. I know you have fought there - but words overheard in a tavern 15 years ago do not make you a royal minister, Hilderinc! Let someone who has lived in Gondor speak of justice. Justice is not what the king commands, it is life. It is life and blood and breath to the people, that which need to keep them alive through good and ill! And these people need Eodwine - I can see it in their hearts and eyes. He understands them in a way that your Athanar never will! Leof may be young, but at least he has not been so tainted by your so-named maturity that he cannot see this."

Crabannan took a deep breath and jerked his axe free, swinging it back and forth idly.

"I've said more than I meant to. I am no kingmaker or man of learning, but I've traveled much and lived under many rulers, good and bad alike. Nor am I a stranger to your own people."

He began to chop again. Loudly.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc stopped and gazed at Crabannan.

"Royal minister!" he laughed roaringly. "Indeed, no, that's what I would not like to be, Crabannan! Did you hear what he said?" He looked around at the others. Áforglaed looked back at him, puzzled. The others were also stirred by the sudden outburst, including Crabannan, as Hilderinc's roar could not have gone unnoticed by him.

"Let me tell you something, my untainted friend," Hilderinc turned towards Crabannan, his expression unusually agitated. "I am not repeating words from taverns, perhaps unlike you, but even though I haven't been to Gondor, I know what people need! People need a lord who understands them, yes! But they need maturity as well! They need it more than they need a lord who only pats their heads and is being nice, or..." Words failed him in the middle of the unprepared speech. "Whatever," he finished, not sure how to continue. He had never been good with words and this rather emotional response to Crabannan's not less emotional outburst had caught him completely unprepared.

But Áforglaed shook his head and backed away from Hilderinc somewhat, as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Whatever happened to him," he muttered quietly to those close to him, "I swear I never heard him laugh since I have met him. I thought he never laughs aloud. In fact I have never seen him shouting, have you..."

"What I meant to say," Hilderinc came to himself a bit, but felt his face turning red, "was that people need a good lord. But they also have to be able to recognise a good lord from a bad one, and dreams and wishful thoughts won't help them to do it right."

Now he was again speaking almost calmly, only his voice was trembling a bit after the unexpected outburst. He looked back at the others, being well aware of his own blushing face.

[Folwren]

Saeryn looked down at Falco and hesitated. Then, finally, she nodded. “If you like,” she said. She glanced about. People were moving slowly, with unnatural quietness, sending covertly obvious glances towards them. Some, like Leof, stood openly staring.

“I am willing that we go up to our rooms with them,” she said, her voice quiet.

Eodwine hesitated for long moments. He was trygin to find the best thing to say, and many choices flitted through his mind before he hit upon one. Faclo and the others grew restive. Finally, he followed Saeryn's lead and kept his voice low.

"I do not need others with us in our rooms, and would that it were just you and me. But if you would like them with ..."

Saeryn took that as a consent and without another word, turned and stiffly led the way up to their chamber. Saeryn entered first, her head high and her back rigid. Somehow, even with Rowenna there as she had requested, she still felt she would not win the argument and it would be a hard and possibly futile task. She turned, and faced about as Eodwine entered last and shut the door.

[littlemanpoet]

As they walked toward their rooms, Saeryn in front followed by Rowenna, then Falco, and Eodwine bringing up the rear, he tried to put together in his mind what he wanted to say, what needed to be said. He knew what must come first. He came through the door and waited for the other three to situate themselves as comfortably as they might, then closed the door. Saeryn was waiting for him to speak. He was surprised that he was able to speak as calmly as he did. Only his final question hinted at his consternation and shock that she would so baldly flout his will.

"I am sorry that I raised my hand against you, Saeryn. I make no excuse. Maybe my illness weakened me so that my hand rose to do what I would never do. But I was angry when you called me eorl not long after I made it as clear as I knew how that I am not here to be eorl. Why did you gainsay me before the women?"

[Folwren]

Saeryn heard his first words without any change of expression in her face and eyes. It was well that he apologized, but it did not change what had happened. But when he asked for an explanation for her words, her face flushed a hot red. She wouldn’t allow him to tell her to explain herself and apologize now - not before Falco and Rowenna, even if it was by her request that they were there. She would not be degraded again, as she had been before the women.

“I said what I did because I believe that it should be so, and it would be so if all were as it should be. You were their eorl when you left, and now that you have returned, you still should be. Athanar could not stay if everyone recognized you as their true lord. If by my words I gainsaid you, it was because I could see no other way to show you how I trully felt."

[littlemanpoet]

It was a small room for two, very small for four to holding conference. Saeryn was standing on the other side of their bed, Rowenna to her right; both women were watching him, waiting for him to respond. Falco had propped himself against a wooden chest against the wall, fiddling with his pipe, casting his glance between the other three, apparently gauging each of them; he said nothing.

Eodwine suddenly felt exhausted. Maybe he had overdone it with Ginna and the smiths. He felt shaky again.

"I must sit down," he said simply. He lowered himself to the bed, trying not to turn his back to any of them. All three of them were now to his right and he had to turn his head to look at any of them. It felt like too much effort, so he let his gaze fall where it would, mainly upon the empty corner of the room between the door and Falco.

"Saeryn, done is done. Even if I wanted to be eorl - and I do not - the king's word is my bond. He commanded me and I gave him my word that I would do his will. So I am bound also by the bond of my word to both Eomer, and now to Athanar as well. 'Tis done. You may feel, of course, how you wish about it. Would you have me go back on my word?"

[Folwren]

“I would have you go back to the king and plead your case before him. Remind him that you have done only what he desired of you, and have not disobeyed or done anything worthy of being replaced. I believe King Eomer will not wish to act unjustly, and if presented with this way of looking at the problem, perhaps he will see that he has been wrong.”

There. She had said what she needed to say. She had said it bluntly, swiftly, and without pre-meditating her words very much. She twisted one hand in the other and looked at Eodwine.

“Let me go, Eodwine,” she said, her voice softening some as she hoped he would listen to her. “You are tired and still unwell. Let me go and plead our case before the king.”

[littlemanpoet]

So it was justice that she sought. She felt wronged, for herself and for him. It was understandable. She was pleading now. He sighed again, sadness taking over. He looked at her, saw again the woman with whom he had fallen in love.

"Saeryn, my dear, I do not seek justice. I do not want to be eorl. I want nothing but you and our baby, and our friends. What do I care for changing the mind of the king? The eorldom means nothing to me. Less than nothing. Set it aside. Let it go. You have me back. Do you really need 'lord' in front of my name to be happy?"

[Folwren]

Saeryn looked at Rowenna, recalling her words, “Saeryn, what does Eodwine want?” And here was her answer, in terms as plain as day. His last query stung.

“No, Eodwine,” she said, looking down a moment, and then looking back up at him. “A thousand times, no. You know that; you must know that.” She walked towards him as she spoke. “I did not grow to love you because you were a lord. And I will love you and be happy even if you are not.” She stopped and stood by him. She tried to find words to explain herself and her need, but she didn’t know how. Instead of words, tears came, and she hated her weakness. She stood silent and stiff, saying nothing as one huge tear after another rolled down her face.

“I don’t know why this is so important to me,” she finally managed to say. “I don’t know why – why it is such. . .Eodwine, if you had been here. . .if you could have seen. . .” She looked him in the eye. “I’ve been so unhappy since you have been gone and since Athanar has been lord. I thought you were going to die, and our baby-” She could not continue. A huge, impassable lump in her throat rendered her speechless.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna

This whole conversation had started personal, and kept getting more so. Rowenna was getting uncomfortable. At the same time, both Saeryn and Eodwine rose in her esteem. She felt a lump forming in her own throat. She felt like throwing herself on both of them and sobbing. It was time to get out of there. She swallowed hard and refused to let her eyes get wet. She glanced at Falco who glanced back. She motioned for the two of them to leave. He scrunched up his nose and nodded in a way that said silently to her, 'yes, that's a good idea, let's go'. They left the room. When they had closed the door, she let out stressed out sigh.

"I don't need that every day."

"No, let 'em work it out by themselves. You and me, I think we both could use a pint or two. Shall we?"

Rowenna laughed. It was funny to think of sharing a pint - or two - in the morning with a Hobbit, but right now she felt game for at least one and said so. He grinned back at her as he lit his pipe.

Eodwine

Eodwine looked up at Saeryn and listened to her. A lump came into his own throat as he watched the tears slide down her face. His heart went out to her, yet again. Then words failed her. He noticed that Falco and Rowenna made themselves scarce, and was grateful. He took Saeryn by the waist and drew her down beside him; she did not resist.

"I'm back. I'm here. Only death itself will ever take me from you again, and not for a long time if I can help it. I know, I understand that this has been hard on you, that you have been demeaned and worse while I've been gone, that you have borne much that you should not have had to. I wish I could take it all away, but it is in the past. Let me husband you now."

Falco

Falco liked Rowenna. She was a little different than most Big People, and most women too, for that matter. There was more going on behind her eyes than with most Big People, even more than Eodwine, maybe. He liked that. They sat down at a table and he ordered a pint for each of them, which Ginna brought with a mild look of surprise on her face, not in regard to Falco, but that Rowenna would join him.

"Do you want some food to go with that?" she asked them both, but was looking at Rowenna.

"Some bread and meat would be good," Falco answered. Ginna waited for Rowenna to gainsay him and finding that she did not, she went off to the kitchen.

"What think you of their disagreement?" Rowenna broached.

Falco grinned. It was just what he had wanted to talk about. He took a swallow at his pint and then puffed at his pipe before answering. "Believe it or not, I agree with Saeryn. Eodwine should be eorl, and of more than those two oafs in the smithy."

Rowenna laughed. "If you hope to agree with me, you don't. I've changed my mind. I think Eodwine is right."

"Oh do you now!" Falco licked the stem of his pipe with relish. A spirited debate ensued, both opponents thoroughly enjoying it under the watchful eyes of Ginna, Frodides, and the others; not that they seemed to fear a fight breaking out between this odd pair. Maybe it was that these women in the kitchen wondered at this young woman with the fetching looks who seemed to have a man's brain in her head, not to mention a man's aggressiveness in the way she leaned into the debate. One just never knew about these things.

[Lhunardawen]

Ginna's eyes watched Rowenna and Falco bicker and laugh (sometimes at the same time), but her mind wandered elsewhere. Outside the Hall, in the smithy, to be exact. Eodwine had been gone for a while after she left him in the grounds and before he returned to the Hall. That meant that sometime between the two, he had gone to speak with Harreld. Eodwine's face betrayed nothing of what could have become of that talk; he had eyes only for his wife. A small, selfish side of Ginna hoped they would resolve things quickly so she could ask him what Harreld said. A slightly bigger, impatient side of her longed to go to the smithy at that very moment and find out for herself.

She did not even realise that she had risen from her seat when she felt a hand touch her arm. It was Kara. "Are you all right?"

"Y-yes," Ginna answered, smiling tentatively. She looked towards the door, then back at Kara, whose eyes were filled with concern and disapproval. "I just need to clear my head," Ginna reassured her. "I'm not ready to talk to him," she added when Kara's brow lifted. Eventually, she withdrew her hand with a resigned look.

Ginna could not leave the kitchen without being seen by Rowenna and Falco, but both were still too busy debating to pay her any more attention as she walked out the kitchen towards the Hall. She had barely made it out through the door when she glimpsed Harreld coming towards her. A lump formed in her throat. But a moment later she realised that Harreld did not walk with that swagger. The man's face came into clear view.

"Garreth," she greeted him with a nod, her voice gruff. She cleared her throat.

[Gwathagor]

"What I meant to say was that people need a good lord. But they also have to be able to recognize a good lord from a bad one, and dreams and wishful thoughts won't help them to do it right," Hilderinc blathered pointlessly.

"Obviously not," retorted Crabannan in a non-committal attempt to be biting.

Dreams and wishful thoughts? he thought sourly as he kicked another pole onto his chopping block and split it with a single blow. Just because I'm a harper, he's pegged me as a head-in-the-clouds and a dreamer. Soldiers are all the same! And they're worse when they think they're not.

These and similar thoughts ate at him as he worked. He thought he could feel the soldiers smirking at him behind his back, which was salt in the wound. He wanted nothing better to stomp off and leave them to the only stupid, brainless work they were fit for besides sticking swords in people. He wanted to point out to Hilderinc that bluster, noise, and force of arms did not a good ruler make and that if Athanar could not master his own spoiled, bullying leech-sons, he was hardly to be entrusted with a village, much less an emnet.

But something held him back. Maybe it was an idealistic desire to see something through for once, even if it was something as small as a dirty sheep-shed in a muddy field. Maybe it was morbid curiosity as to whether or not he could. Maybe it was stubbornness.

So all he said was: "Any man can learn to lead, but not every man is born to it."

Dreams and wishful thoughts, indeed! Some people never change! he inwardly railed. But as he fell into a rhythm of work, his mind drifted to distant lands, times, and regrets.

[littlemanpoet]

"I'm hungry," Garreth announced. "What about you?"

"'Tis not midday yet," Harreld said between swings on his anvil.

"What of that? I'm hungry now and will not wait. I'm going to the kitchens. Do you want me to bring you back some vittles?"

Harreld ceased his swinging. "Aye, that would be well. And bring back some water. Bread and water. If a little bit of meat can be spared, that would be good."

"Oh ho! Now you're ordering a whole meal! I'll see what I can scratch up!"

Garreth set down his tools and walked out the door into the cold crisp air. Axes were swinging off away, and there men's voices were arguing. Someone came out of the door Garreth was aimed toward. Oh no. It was a woman. He would have to greet her, no doubt. Of all the unwelcome - he stopped his thought when he recognized her - it was Harreld's Ginna. Speaking of 'scratching up'! This woman was the last thing his brother needed!

She said his name and nodded by way of greeting. She did not sound pleased to see him.

"Ginna." He stopped in her way. Was she heading to the smithy? Could she not leave his brother alone? Trouble makers, all of them.

"Where are you going to?" he asked forbiddingly.

[Folwren]

She remained still and safe as he held her close. Her head rested on his shoulder and one hand lay on his chest. Slowly, her crying ceased and she sniffed quietly from time to time. The minutes past unnoticed in silence while they sat for a while in perfect contentedness. Here, Saeryn knew that all would be well, even if they did not yet agree on this issue.

Her emotions cooled like a stove with the fire taken from it, slowly and steadily. As she ceased crying altogether, her thoughts turned again to the disagreement at hand. She would be happy if Eodwine really did decide not to take action, but she still did not understand why he would not fight for his place. It was not right, and Saeryn had always known him to try to do what was right and best for his subjects. Why did he expect less from the king?

Did he really not want to be eorl, or was it that he did not care to stir up that much trouble?

Without pulling away, she tilted her head up to look up at his face. “Eodwine,” she said. “Why don't you want to be eorl?”

[Firefoot]

For several minutes only the sound of chopping was heard as the men went about their work. Hilderinc seemed thoroughly embarrassed by his outburst and not yet ready to speak again; the others either did not know how to respond to Crabannan’s odd remark or did not wish to.

Scyld was at least momentarily satisfied. His companions were edgy, and Scyld had found that upset and emotionally charged men said things that they would never dare to speak when fully rational. In that way they were not dissimilar to drunk men.

He did not intend to let the mood pass, however. Something more than the Athanar-Eodwine showdown was driving each of them; something was making them each defensive. Scyld wished to know what. So he asked Crabannan, “Is the man that learns to lead a lesser leader because he had to learn it?”

[Lhunardawen]

"Ginna. Where are you going to?"

Garreth did not look pleased to see her. More than that, he seemed even aggressive, standing directly in her way and making no effort to conceal the suspicion in his voice. She could not blame him. But there had been no lie in telling Kara that she was not ready to talk to Harreld.

"I wanted to take a walk, it was getting stuffy inside." His expression was unchanged, not that she expected anything else. "So," she continued, with a little effort at being friendly, "how do you like Scarburg thus far?"

Garreth was not about to let this troublesome woman get by without assurances. "Your walk wouldn't happen to be sending your feet toward the smithy now, would it?" He glowered at her, squinting for effect.

Ginna sighed sadly, her shoulders slumping. "No," she told him. Her voice was soft, but she looked at him unflinchingly. "I did not hurt him, Garreth. Why are you so mad at me?"

He blinked. He stared. He frowned. "Who said I was mad at you? I never said I was mad at you. I'm just protecting my brother. He's too .... too trusting." He leaned over her, glowering again. "I don't want anybody taking advantage of him, see?"

She stood straighter, unmoved by the smith towering over her. "Have I done anything to make you believe that I have taken advantage of him?" Her arms crossed and her head tilted slightly, in an instinctive gesture of challenge.

"See? There you go accusing me. I never said you did anything, I'm just warning you not to. Women!" He threw up his hands and walked by her toward the Hall. Ginna could only follow him with her eyes, completely at a loss about what had just happened. Her face fell as one thing became clear: her father was not the only obstacle she and Harreld had to surmount to finally be together.

[Gwathagor]

“Is the man that learns to lead a lesser leader because he had to learn it?" asked Nydfara.

"He is until he learns it," shot back Crabannan, wondering what Nydfara's horse in this race was. The man had scarcely been here more than a few months, and his look was not of a man who cared for rulers and politics. He reminded Crabannan of a crow or a jackal. He reminded Crabannan of himself, and for that reason he was suspicious.

"And what do you care? You're even more of a stranger here than I am."

[Firefoot]

“More of a stranger?” Scyld echoed, raising an eyebrow. He had not expected a personal attack, but was not flustered by it. He thought for a moment, looking Crabannan over. “I believe we arrived here at nearly the same time. I have lived here and worked here the same as you – why should I not care? More than that, I have lived in Rohan the whole of my life, while you, I gather, have moved around. By my reckoning, that makes me less of a stranger here than you.” He smiled at Crabannan in an attempt to remove any sting from his words, but privately he thought: I have lived nearly my whole life within five miles of the ground where I stand; no stranger am I to this place. Only to its people – and they are the true strangers.

“But you admit yourself a stranger here, though you have lived here longer than any of these soldiers,” Scyld continued with a gesture around at the others, “so I might turn the question back to you: why do you care so much?”

[Gwathagor]

"Yes, I've moved around," replied Crabannan hotly. "I've been a kitchen-boy, a woodsman, a guide, many things much worse, and I've played the harp for kings from here to Farthest Rhun to Deepest Harad and back again - but I fought for Rohan! Where were you during the war?"

He stepped back a bit, trying not to betray his chagrin at having let this slip. He kept his eyes on the soldiers; not apprehensive, just careful. Observing.

"As I've said, this is none of my concern. In the end, you could all run this Emnet into the ground and I'd be none the worse for it. But I care not least because I lost several pints of blood on this stupid, flat patch of earth."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

After his outburst, Hilderinc turned back to his work, trying to collect himself. Slowly, the cold, reasonable part of him, trained by years, came back. He was once again thinking soberly. What was this nonsense about? he said to himself. How could I have let myself to act so stupidly? So childishly? Don't I know better? Did I not just talk about maturity? And look at how I acted!

Now probably the most embarassing thing he felt about this outburst was that it caught him unawares – he had thought that he had managed to gain control over himself, that he had mastered his actions with the cold reasoning of his own mind. This was a shock, perhaps a hint that there was still some small, hidden part of his old self that he could not master – and that thought itself was a terror to him. Since the end of the War, he had been living the life of a mercenary, a simple soldier, caring only about his immediate orders, keeping his mind on simple things here and now. This had also managed to keep him feeling safe, knowing that he would not unleash from his memory anything he wanted to forget. Even now, as he mastered himself, he forced himself to cease thinking about the subject – feeling somewhere deep inside the fear that starting to follow but one thread of this thinking could lead him too far.

He turned to listen to the other men, finding out that the subject of their discussion was not any better for him if he tried to forget about the time of the Great War. He could not help, however, but to be impressed by Crabannan's account of his experiences. Long time ago, he had asked Crabannan if he was a Woodman, he did not get an answer back then, but whatever Crabannan was, it was clear now that this man came from afar and had seen much more of the world than Hilderinc ever would. There was something in Crabannan, indeed, that reminded Hilderinc of himself – perhaps it was the likely shared experience of wishing to leave something behind. Perhaps it was the horrors of the War, perhaps it was something else. But what seemed peculiar to Hilderinc was Crabannan's proclaimed loyalty to the Mark.

"As I've said, this is none of my concern. In the end, you could all run this Emnet into the ground and I'd be none the worse for it. But I care not least because I lost several pints of blood on this stupid, flat patch of earth."

"Why did you, then?" he said aloud, raising his head. "You did not really answer Nydfara's question, either. You are a stranger, yet you admit fighting for – as you say - Rohan... What made you lose these, as you say, pints of blood for this land? What ideals did you follow? What did you see – or what did you think you saw – that made you fight for it?"

[littlemanpoet]

“Eodwine, why don't you want to be eorl?”

"It is a dungeon with golden bars, a sentence for life, the eorlship. I am happy to be free. I love the folk here, but not this place. We do not have to stay. Were I eorl, we would not have that choice."

"Oh." Saeryn said nothing for a moment, and then again spoke. "But what about the people? What about men like Lithor? Or Erbrand? I know you would not have thought that Erbrand was right to beat Athanar's man so, but what of Lithor? Neither of them should have been forced to leave Scarburg, and yet they did. And I believe Thornden was somehow mixed into that, too."

Eodwine looked at Saeryn. He knew from Falco that Lithor had been accused what the Gondorians might call "insubordination", and that Erbrand had been violent and both had left, but she was describing things from what Eodwine took to be greater knowledge, and - - Thornden mixed up in it?

"Forced to leave? Thornden mixed up in it? Maybe you should tell me about all this from the beginning. I do not think that I have heard the tale in its fullness."

Saeryn took a breath, faced him more squarely, one knee up on the bed between them, and related the events of Lithor and Erbrand. Eodwine noticed that she did not speak directly of Thornden through all of it. When stomachs were growling in hunger for lunch, she stopped.

"And what of Thornden?"

"He saw where they went, as they rode off, and he said nothing. He protected them. I don't know what came of it. Athanar learned of it, and when he became angry, he and Thornden went outside and words passed between them. I do not know exactly what, Thornden did not go into much detail."

"I - see..." Eodwine paused. "I am not sure what to think, what I can do if anything. Time will tell. It will have to."

"Have you spoken to Athanar? Besides what I and others have likely said to you, do you know what manner of man he is?"

"We know each other from the war, but have had little to do with each other since then. I know that he is a man of quick and firm choices. From what you tell me, he made quick and firm choices about Lithor and Erbrand. Maybe he is over-sure of his choices, and does not wait to hear all there is to hear before he chooses his course. If that is so, he could be wiser than he is. Maybe that is my role, to give counsel as much as I am allowed to give."

"Be careful, lest he think you are trying to teach him his role and he take offense," Saeryn said. Then she regretted speaking so. That was not fair to Athanar. "No," she corrected herself. "I speak wrongly. Athanar will listen, I think, if your counsel is good, and I know you will give it carefully." She turned again to sit beside him, although she could not look at him from here. She took his hand and again pulled his arm around herself and nestled against him.

"What will you do if the people want you to take eorlship?" she asked.


"I will do what I have already. I will tell them as kindly as I can that I am not the eorl and do not want to be, but I wish to be their friend."

Saeryn seemed to accept this. But she stiffened and sighed deeply before speaking again, with much hesitation.

"Eodwine. . .after telling the women in the kitchen that you had returned as their eorl, when I came up here, I encountered Athanar. He asked me what troubled me, and I told him. . ." she hesitated a long moment. "I told him that you should be eorl, and that he shouldn't be, and that I would see to it that you were set in his place."

[Gwathagor]

"What did you see – or what did you think you saw – that made you fight for it?" pried Hilderinc.

Crabannan sighed. He didn't not want to discuss this and he should not have mentioned it. He shrugged.

"What makes any man fight? I was young. I was far from home. I was looking for somewhere to belong, a people to call my own."

"And did you find it?" shot in Nydfara.

No! he wanted to snap. It ended badly, like everything else these past fifteen years! He took a deep breath and kept his hands busy with work.

"If you had asked me then...no."

"And now?"

"Some things can't be changed, no matter the passage of years. What's done is done. Like this new eorl. I'm no fool. I owe it to no man to like it, but I know full well that Athanar is here to stay. Eodwine is back, but he'll never be eorl again...barring disaster."

[littlemanpoet]

"I told him that you should be eorl, and that he shouldn't be, and that I would see to it that you were set in his place."

Eodwine's grip loosened around Saeryn's waist involuntarily. He bent forward to catch her eye. She glanced at him and away again.

"You said wha-" he began to ask. "... no, never mind, I'll not make you say it again to me, I heard you." He paused, wrestling with this sudden news, trying to find the best thing to say in response.

"What did he say or do?"

She hesitated before answering. "I did not give him a chance to answer me. I came in here right away and shut the door."

"He did not knock or send his wife?"

"No."

Eodwine considered. If Athanar had not knocked or sent his wife, maybe he did not worry himself over her words. Maybe he had thought she was letting her feelings get the best of her. Or that being with child loosened her tongue. Maybe Athanar just expected him to control his wife like he thought any Eorling husband should. Or, could it be, that he held his counsel and waited to catch the two of them in some act that could be understood as treason? Eodwine swallowed, then dismissed that fear.

"I think we should leave it be and see if Athanar answers you in some way, or not, as time passes." He drew her to him and held her tight and finally let his feelings into words. "Oh Saeryn, I would give so much if only we could have no fear over this or anything else!"

[Firefoot]

At Crabannan's latest pronouncement, a wave of unease rippled through the soldiers. Scyld raised an eyebrow. As he'd been listening to Crabannan, Scyld had been trying to figure out whether he was hiding some troubled past or just melodramatic. A bit of both, Scyld was beginning to suspect. Melodramatic, gloomy, and over-serious – an unfortunate threesome of traits. He could not respond in kind.

“I hope you don't have any particular disaster in mind,” jested Scyld. “This hall has seen enough misfortune to last a while yet, I think.”

[Folwren]

Cnebba, Garmund, and Javan had been sent out early to search for stones to help build the sheep pen. They had the low wagon hitched to two horses and had spent an hour filling it with rocks and stones of many sizes. Now they drove it back, rattling over the stony earth at the base of the scar and up towards where men worked with wood poles for the gate and fence.

As they drew near, Javan identified all the men there. Mostly, they were soldiers. Crabannan was there, and Nydfara, too. When the boys drove up, the men were working, hewing the logs for the fence, but they also were speaking. Javan and the other two boys began tossing stones down from the wagon.

Crabannan was talking to Nydfara, apparently being questioned. “If you had asked me then…no.”

“Asked him what?” Javan queried aloud, but no one paid him any mind.

“And now?”

"Some things can't be changed, no matter the passage of years. What's done is done. Like this new eorl. I'm no fool. I owe it to no man to like it, but I know full well that Athanar is here to stay. Eodwine is back, but he'll never be eorl again...barring disaster."

Javan dropped his rock and straightened. Garmund howled when the rock hit his foot, but Javan pushed his shoulder hard. “Shush, did you hear that?”

“I hope you don't have any particular disaster in mind,” jested Scyld. “This hall has seen enough misfortune to last a while yet, I think.”

“What are you talking about?” Javan asked. He sprang across the sideboard of the wagon and ran the two steps to the men. “Eodwine’s back already? I thought he was getting back later today?”

[Firefoot]

Scyld didn't know how to handle children well; the younger they were, the worse he was. After being sent to work for Sorn at ten years old, he'd never spent much time around children, which had made for a lonely childhood.

So his instinctive reaction was to reply shortly to Javan, to tell him that theirs was not talk meant for children. But Scyld had been around long enough to learn (mostly through observation of others) that Javan had a bit of a stubborn streak and didn't take well to being told off. There was a good chance that he would become even more bothersome if he wasn't told what he wanted to hear and then put back to work.

“Eodwine got back this morning, a couple hours ago,” Scyld said, “and we were discussing it. Now, if you could unload those stones just over there, where the wood is being piled – and sort them by size, too.”

He turned back to his chopping. Between the level of discomfort that the men's conversation had reached and the presence of the boys, he strongly suspected that nobody would be talking about anything more interesting than how the sheep pen should be laid out for a while.

[Folwren]

Although there was much for Saeryn and Eodwine to talk about, they did not speak at great length at that time. Eodwine was weary and Saeryn knew it. Now that they had come to understand one another in the issue of eorlship, her womanly instinct to care for him came to bear. She put him to bed, assuring him that there was nothing for him to do, and that any greetings he had failed to make this morning would be able to be made this evening at the feast that they were giving in his honor.

Once she had seen that all his needs had been cared for, she returned to the kitchen, and then she and the other ladies set to work to prepare the feast she had mentioned to Eodwine.

When the letter had arrived announcing his coming, Athanar had said that his coming would be a celebration. He ordered that one of the cattle be slaughtered and fresh meet served on the day of his return. Breads were baked, and fruits and vegetables stored in the cellar below were hauled up and prepared in all sorts of dishes. There was never an idle moment for the people in the kitchen, and the day passed more quickly than they desired.

When the early dusk fell, and the men came to shake the descending cold from their limbs, all was prepared. The hall blazed with firelight from torches, candles, and the blazing fireplace, and the tables were laid and prepared for a heavy burden of food.

[Firefoot]

The sun cast long shadows across the hall grounds as Scyld and the other men made their way back from the fields where the sheep pen stood well on its way to completion. He was tired and very hungry, and he thought eagerly of the feast that had been promised for Eodwine's return. His mouth watered at the scents that wafted out from the kitchen as they drew near – a faint fruity aroma underlaid the stronger smells of fresh bread and – best of all – fresh beef.

He hadn't even realized how chilled he had gotten working outside all day until he pushed open the door to the hall and stepped inside. Then the warmth enveloped him and suddenly he felt cold to the bone. He sank gratefully to a seat at a table near the fireplace and felt his limbs begin to thaw.

The women had begun bringing out the food, and the various residents of the hall were all trickling in from wherever they had been, the tasks of the day put aside in favor of the coming celebration. He noted each as they arrived, out of habit rather more than anything else. There was Athanar and his family, taking their accustomed seats. Léof, in from the stables, who seemed unsure of where he ought to sit down (or rather, who he ought to sit down with). Falco, who would no doubt eat as much as any soldier there – Scyld would have to ask him sometime if all halflings were such hearty eaters. Rowenna...

His mental checklist stuttered to a halt. One of the soldiers sitting near him followed his gaze and grinned. “That's a fine looking woman, there,” he said. Scyld glanced at him and recognized him as Aldric, the same soldier who had made the jest about Saeryn at the breakfast table.

Scyld shrugged as if to say, A little. “What of it?”

Aldric looked at him as if he were mad. “What of it? Why, she's even prettier than the Lady Saeryn... and the kitchen maid Ginna too. The prettiest woman in the hall! And not otherwise spoken for, unlike them.”

A queer emotion threatened to bubble up inside Scyld, but he pushed it away and instead merely raised an eyebrow at the other man. “So you think you have a chance with her?”

“Why not?” Aldric was watching Rowenna, and so did not see Scyld smirking with an unsaid reply: Because you don't know the half of what's coming if you approach her.

[Folwren]

When Quin came back into the hall for the grand meal, his thoughts reverted to the discussion at breakfast and the talk that had followed out at the sheep pen. The people would again see how Eodwine and Athanar interacted, and perhaps after tonight everyone would know better what to think of Eodwine’s presence. He knew that he and other soldiers thought that Athanar should stay, but he wondered still if those who had been used to Eodwine as their eorl would think differently. He wanted to ask Léof again, but that had gone badly this morning, and now he did not even know if Léof would speak to him.

He looked about, hoping to catch sight of Léof. He spotted him seated on the end of the workmen’s table near Stigend and Garstan. Quin went towards him and stopped by his side.

“I hope you are not angry with what happened this morning. I meant no mischief.”

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna was helping Ginna and the others serving the food. This had been her charge before she had left, and she fell back into it with ease; Ginna and the others appreciated the extra hands, especially as she knew her way around the pantries, not to mention the habits of Frodides. Eodwine and Saeryn had not come in yet. She supposed Athanar had special plans. He did seem to be one for the grand gesture, as if he were especially aware of how his actions affected how his folk viewed him.

She watched the men come in the Hall from their work. They brought the cold in with them, and visibly relaxed into the warmth of the room. The fire in the hearth had been built high this night, for the air was even colder than most nights. There was Garreth, and even Harreld who had apparently been pressed to join them though it was not his way of late, she was told. Poor Ginna. Rowenna had not heard too much, but things were not as they should be between them, and Harreld needed a good talking to. But Rowenna knew better than to charge in where not asked.

There was Nydfara. She schooled herself not to change her manner even if her heart would not behave. Why did it start beating faster just because she noticed him in the room? How frustrating. She suffered him not a glance as she brought out a large tray with a half dozen tankards of mead. What was this? One of the men sauntered up the aisle toward her, a haughty half grin on his face, looking directly at her. Oh. One of these. Yes, he was coming toward her with an air as if he believed himself to be the answer in man's form for all the questions a woman had. She forced herself not to roll her eyes. He stopped right in front of her, his eyes half closed, with the confident smile of a rogue. She raised an eyebrow.

"I am Aldric. Are you offering drinks?" he asked.

"I bring them to table," she replied.

"Why thank you, I'll take one. How could I resist the offer of such a pretty little thing as you?" He took one of the six off her tray, winking at his double meaning as if he were the cleverest womanizer in all Rohan. She caught the tray with her other hand before the other five drinks could do more than slosh in their tankards.

"I made you no offer."

"Ah, but you wanted to. I could see it in your eyes."

Rowenna groaned inside. He was not bad looking, but his manner grated and bespoke a character beneath her. "You misread my eyes."

"Oho! You play hard to get. I know how it goes. I am not so easily put off. Come sit at my table tonight so we can get acquainted, and," he paused meaningfully, "see how things go from there."

"They'll not go anywhere. Not with the likes of you."

He raised his brow. "You do not know me. I am the best horseman in Scarburg, and am among the best with a sword or spear. My aim never fails of its target." He lifted his free hand to the hair on her shoulder and played it between his fingers. "Once I set my eye on a target, I will hit the bullseye. Maybe not the first time, but I always do, with practice, if you know what I mean." He winked.

She forced her lip not to curl in disgust. "Your prowess in marksmanship may be all that you say, but you miss the mark with me." With a twitch of her head she yanked her hair out of his grasp. "And always will. Let me by, please."

"Are you spoken for then?"

"No, I am not. But I speak for myself, and I say that you do not interest me. Let me by. I have tables to serve."

He frowned a moment but recovered and smiled. "Now now, that is no way to talk. You are the prettiest lass here. Sit with me at table."

"I'd sooner sit at table with a toad than you. Out of my way."

He stepped partly out of her path and she brushed by him, glad the conversation was over. She did not see Aldric's evil look at her back. She did look involuntarily at Nydfara, who appeared to be watching Aldric with a smirk. He glanced toward her. The smirk left his face, and he looked away almost as quickly as she did. She found a table far from him, set the tray down, and returned to the kitchen for more. The evening had better start going better, she thought to herself, or she would be returning to the Folde as soon as was possible.

[Firefoot]

Watching Aldric’s flirtations was even more amusing than Scyld had expected. From the start, he could see that Rowenna wanted nothing more than to rid herself of her relentless pursuer, but Aldric repeatedly blocked her attempts to get past her. He couldn’t hear their words from where he was sitting, but the body language of each of them was clear enough, and he could easily imagine the words that passed between them – Aldric wheedling, as charming as he knew how to be, and Rowenna, cold as ice and utterly composed. He had met few men with as quick a wit as hers, and even fewer women. It was a dangerous combination – stunning looks with a mind to match.

He glanced again at Aldric. Idiot. He would never impress a woman like that.

Rowenna left him standing there and then her glance turned to Scyld. He quickly looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring. He was losing his touch – he prided himself on observing people without them realized they were being watched.

Aldric returned to the table with a frown on his face.

“Didn’t go so well?” Scyld prompted, feigning empathy.

“Oh, she’ll come around,” said Aldric. “It’s just a woman like that doesn’t know her place. They get uppity.”

“They actually think for themselves,” said Scyld.

“Just so,” said Aldric, missing the sarcasm. “They get ideas in their heads. Saeryn too. Eodwine doesn’t take a firm enough hand with her, that’s why they got into that fight earlier.”

“Oh, did they?” asked Scyld, who had no knowledge of such a fight.

“She thought he still ought to be Eorl. Went around his back telling people. That’s what I hear, anyway. But it just shows the kind of trouble women cause when they try making their own ideas.”

“Perhaps the women would disagree,” said Scyld. Actually, there was no ‘perhaps’ about it – he knew that Rowenna would disagree…

“But that’s just the problem!” said Aldric. “It’s not their place to agree or disagree.”

“So you think that any girl you approach ought to take you up on your, ah, suggestions?”

“Well, I’m not going to go around approaching queens. I know my place. But she’s a serving girl, and I am a fine soldier. She says she ‘speaks for herself’ – that means she hasn’t got anyone looking after her, so she ought to be glad of any man taking an interest in her. She doesn’t know what she’s passing up.”

Scyld smirked. Oh, I think she knows exactly what she’s passing up, he thought, glancing over at her again.

Misreading Scyld again, Aldric said, “If you think it’s so funny or so easy, I’d like to see you try. You can’t get anywhere with a woman like that.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s easy at all,” Scyld said. It is pretty funny though. “But taking on a ‘woman like that’ would be better done with a full stomach, I think.”

Aldric rolled his eyes, but Scyld did not mind if Aldric thought him a coward for now. He could wait.

[Firefoot]

With no small trepidation did Leof return to the hall for the feast. After witnessing the fight between Eodwine and Saeryn, and then not seeing Athanar anywhere in the immediate vicinity, he had decided to just return to his work in the stables and that his own complaints and ideas could wait. There was enough upheaval right now without his adding to the mix.

All in all, it had been a quiet day in the stables. There were no drills, and it had been too cold for most of the men to want to take their horses out on pleasure riding, assuming they had no chores. So he’d had a lot of time to think about his new organizational scheme for the stables.

He’d also had a lot of time to think about his relationship with the soldiers… especially Quin. He wondered if Quin was upset with him. He had left so suddenly this morning, and the look of shock on his face when Leof said he thought that Eodwine would be Eorl again…

In hindsight, he supposed that comment could also be taken as an insult to the soldiers sitting there. Because the logical follow-up to Eodwine resuming the Eorlship was Athanar leaving, and with him all his soldiers. He could see why Quin might take that badly.

So when he came to the hall for the feast, he looked around a little nervously and was almost glad to see that Quin had not yet arrived. It saved him the decision of whether or not to sit near him. Instead, he chose what he considered a safe spot near the old Scarburgians – Stigend and Garstan among them. That was well, because there were some ideas he thought they could help him with. He was just starting to explain to them how he would like to add numbers to all the stalls, when Quin came up beside him.

“I hope you are not angry with what happened this morning. I meant no mischief,” he said.

Leof looked at him in surprise. “No, of course not. I thought you might be angry with me, after how you walked out this morning.”

[Folwren]

“Oh. Oh, no,” Quin said. He took the seat opposite Léof. “I wasn’t angry – am not angry – I was. . .it was just that it came as such a surprise, and then they were angry about it, and I didn’t want to make it any worse by asking any more questions. Between ourselves,” he said, “I think they rather over-reacted.” He elapsed into momentarily silence, and then said, as though musing to himself, “I would men like Scyrr did not speak so much. They make life so much more difficult.”

He met Léof’s eye briefly and then looked away again, laughing to himself. He had never voiced his real opinion of his fellow men-at-arms to anybody, and he felt it odd that now should be the time that he chose to do it. He liked Léof. He liked him a lot. He was the first person remotely like him or close to him in age he had ever had contact with since he first came into Athanar’s household. He thought perhaps that was why he did not want Eodwine’s return to change anything. He did not want to lose this new friendship.

[littlemanpoet]

Her tray restocked with six more tankards of ale, Rowenna came out of the kitchen into the Hall looking for a table of thirsty warriors. There were plenty.

Her roving eyes caught Nydfara and Aldric in close consultation. Aldric was looking put out and sullen, and Nydfara was smiling in that subtle, holding back, way he had. Were they talking about her? No doubt they were.

She took determined steps away from that table and found the table occupied by Quin and Léof, and Garreth the smith and his brother Harreld, as well as Garstan and Stigend. She laid the tray down before them and did not have to wait long for all six tankards to be taken, with proper thanks offered.

She smiled. "Be sure to wave to me when you're ready for more, men of Scarburg!"

She turned, playing with the tray as if it were an old wheel rim off a wagon that she and her childhood playmates had rolled along the ground with the help of a stick. She had been pretty good at that! Well, better than most of the girls. It had not been long before she had stopped being the "girl-pal" of all the boys, and they had started looking at her differently.

Which brought her thought back to the present, for there were many eyes watching her in that same way. She was used to it. But two pairs of eyes didn't look at her that way anymore. There were Nydfara and Aldric, the latter staring at her with undisguised annoyance. Nydfara appeared to be laughing into his sleeve.

She almost stopped in her tracks with a sudden suspicion. Had Nydfara put Aldric up to that? Her lips tightened and her jaw did too. No, she said to herself, do not just figure that he did. Ask him to his face. Yes, she would do that, and soon. Her steps were quicker and she did not smile so quickly for the rest of the night.

[Firefoot]

“Between ourselves, I think they rather over-reacted,” said Quin. Léof looked up at him, feeling somehow lighter inside than he had all afternoon. Quin continued, “I would men like Scyrr did not speak so much. They make life so much more difficult.”

At this, Léof broke out into a wide grin. “They do!” He had half-expected more of an argument from Quin when next they spoke, but instead he had found him more of an ally – a friend – than he had dared to hope. “Here, sit down,” said Léof, indicating the empty seat beside him. As Quin sat, Rowenna came around with drinks.

“Cheers, Rowenna!” said Léof, taking a tankard.

"Be sure to wave to me when you're ready for more, men of Scarburg!" she said.

Léof lifted his mug to Quin. “To friendship," he said, "and to not caring about what those proud and over-sensitive louts think.”

[littlemanpoet]

Athanar and Wynflaed stood with Eodwine and Saeryn just outside the Hall. Everybody else was already within.

"Let us make our entrance," Athanar smiled. "I offer you the lead, Eodwine. This is your feast."

He smiled and shook his head. "Nay lord, you are the eorl. Please lead the way. Saeryn and I will gladly follow."

Athanar nodded. "So be it." He held out his arm to his wife, she took his arm, and they led the way into the Hall.

Eodwine offered Saeryn his arm with a smile. Her hair had been done up in a curled cascade like a waterfall down her back. "I am glad I may do this with you," he said. A smile came to her lips as she took his arm, but her thoughts were her own.

They entered the Hall, following Athanar and Wynflaed to the head table. Heads began to turn. Cheering and applause built from a smattering to a roar in a few moments. After standing there soaking it in, Athanar raised his hand gesturing for silence. Slowly the noise died away and the crowd listened. Even the cooks and serving wenches had stopped in their tasks and stood in a line just outside the kitchens.

"Men and women of Scarburg! Today we welcome Eodwine back among us." Applause followed and died away after a moment. "Eodwine has been your capable leader, but fell sick. Many of you thought that he would not live – and so did our good king. But now he stands back with us, even if in kindling health." More applause. "King Eomer has charged Eodwine to return to Scarburg to return to his wife and to give me his full support in making the Scarburg Mead Hall the great hall it should be. I thank our king for this. As soon as he has regained his health, he will take back a central role in Scarburg Mead Hall. May his health return in full quickly and let the Scarburg Mead Hall flourish, like we showed it should in dealing with the local lords opposing king's justice and all fairness as Eorlings... with lord Eodwine we're even stronger! Cheers for our good lord to have come back!”

There were loud cheers from all the corners of the hall. People were excited.

“Today we celebrate his return with a feast, held in his honor. Three cheers for Eodwine, Counselor to the Eorl of Scarburg!"

The three cheers were given, each one louder than the last. And so they sat down to feast.

Eodwine thought the speech appropriate but a little strange. Athanar had been at pains to give his new role a name, and yet that name was vague. Counselor. So be it. It left much room for refinement, as the Gondorians would say. Eodwine stole a glance at his wife, but she was sipping demurely at her drink, giving nothing away of what might be in her head or heart. At least, not yet. Still, he felt something was either brewing or simmering, and wondered when it would spill out. Wait and see, he told himself, and enjoy the feast. Eventually, the four of them would make the rounds among the folk, so he knew he had to eat well and drink sparingly to be ready for that.

[littlemanpoet]

Léof lifted his mug. “To friendship," he said, "and to not caring about what those proud and over-sensitive louts think.”

Garreth overheard. He was about to say something when Athanar and Eodwine and their wives walked in. The Hall immediately fell silent and there was a speech, not too long, which Garreth approved of. Once things returned to normal, he leaned over his tankard and regarded the ostler.

"And who might these louts be?" he asked. "Nobody ever tells us smiths anything! What news have you?"

[Firefoot]

As Athanar sat down and the cheers died away, Garreth leaned toward Léof and said, “And who might these louts be? Nobody ever tells us smiths anything! What news have you?"

Léof bit the inside of his lip, chagrined. In his pleasure he had forgotten that many people were about who might overhear; he was lucky that it was only Garreth and not one of Athanar's soldiers.

“Some of the soldiers that came here with Athanar do not think very highly of some of us who were here before them,” said Léof vaguely. However, from the look on Garreth's face he could tell that the smith wished to know more than that. Well, he was among friends here, he supposed, and could speak at least a little more freely. He grinned wryly. “They did not like it much when I told them this morning that I thought Athanar might leave when Eodwine came back.”

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

There was an applause at the end of the table where a cluster of Athanar's soldiers were sitting, though at some points there was a murmur from the place of Scyrr and Áforglaed.

"What was that about," muttered Scyrr just after emptying his mug and waving impatiently at the nearby maid to bring him another one. "What was that supposed to mean?"

"What was what supposed to mean?" asked Áforglaed, sitting next to him at the very end of the table, opposite to Hilderinc, but avoiding to meet his eye. Hilderinc had been strangely silent all the time since the sheep-pen incident, not that it was strange for Hilderinc to be silent, but this silence had some very cold and almost threatening air about it. After finishing the work, Hilderinc rushed away, and Áforglaed had not heard him uttering a single word after that. It was as if he had lost his ability to speak.

"I was thinking about what lord Athanar had just said," Scyrr continued in his thoughts. "How was it? 'As soon as he has regained his health, he will take back a - how was it - central role in Scarburg.' What in Béma's name is that supposed to mean, central role?"

"Central role is central role," shrugged Baldwic, on the opposite side of the table. "You heard it. He is to be made a counselor."

"Which is supposed to be what exactly?" Scyrr asked, hitting the table impatiently with his mug. "Yo! Woman! More ale!"

Baldwic rolled his eyes, but Áforglaed attempted to contribute to the conversation. "Well, I'd say he will be giving... counsel... to Athanar."

"Oh really!" roared Scyrr. "I wouldn't have thought of that! Where is that accursed woman? Pouring drinks to others and I am supposed to die here or... But anyway, that still does not explain the 'central role' to me. The way I hear it, Eodwine is NOW made a counselor... and after he gets better... then what?"

"Are you sure you aren't just putting too much into it..." Baldwic started, but Áforglaed jumped in.

"Yeah, right!" he said. "Isn't it what the stableboy had said in the morning?"

"What, that newt?" Scyrr finally gave up hitting the table with his mug.

"Oh yes!" Áforglaed popped his eyes. "He surely must have known! Once Eodwine gets better, he will become eorl again and Athanar will leave..."

"Now wait just a-"

"Outrageous!" yelled Scyrr. "Outrageous, I say! Eodwine plans to sack us?"

Baldwic interrupted him. "Now come on, he could not do that without Athanar agreeing on it..."

Scyrr eyed Baldwic. "Now are you telling me Athanar betrayed us?"

Áforglaed stared at him. "What?"

Baldwic shook his head, looking away from Scyrr. "I think he's just had too much to drink. See, he had been drinking even before the rest of you arrived here, I have seen him... Hilderinc," he turned to the soldier sitting at the end of the table. "Hilderinc, tell him something."

"He won't say anything, he has gone mute," Áforglaed whispered over the table. Hilderinc remained impassive.

"I am per-fectly fine," Scyrr roared, "or I would be, if it wasn't for some scheming-plotting strange stuff going on here..."

"Now will you calm down..." Baldwic started, but Scyrr rose.

"I am going to get me some more ale – and ask my hay-filling hay-filled little friend what he thinks about it," he nodded towards the other table. Before they could stop him, he rushed away.

"This is not going to end well," Baldwic predicted. "Let's fetch him back, before he starts a fight on Eodwine's welcome feast..."

"But what if Eodwine is really going to become an eorl? What is Athanar going to do? Are we going to return to Edoras? Or what?" Áforglaed asked nervously.

"I don't know, but I don't really believe it's going to happen," Baldwic said. "What do you say, Hild- now, where has he gone?"

The seat at the end of the table was empty.

***

As Scyrr slowly approached the table where Léof and others were sitting, he could catch the last of the stableboy's words.

"...They did not like it much when I told them this morning that I thought Athanar might leave when Eodwine came back."

"Thought that, did you?" he growled, closing up the space and stopping behind Léof. The stableboy turned, startled. "And what else did you think, or know, eh? What do you think now?"

[Firefoot]

"Thought that, did you?" came a voice from directly behind him. Léof jumped, then turned around to see Scyrr standing there. A hint of the anger that had consumed him earlier sparked at the edge of his mind as Scyrr continued: "And what else did you think, or know, eh? What do you think now?"

Thoughts flashed through Léof's mind: 'What else did he know?' What was that supposed to mean? Why had Scyrr come back to pick this fight with him? Nor did he like the situation; Scyrr was towering over him, and if he tried to get up quickly he knew that he would get tangled up in the bench.

But bolstered both by Thornden's advice to him earlier and by the friends that surrounded him, Léof had enough presence of mind to remain seated, though it was uncomfortable to look up at Scyrr that way, and to reply very evenly: “I think that Lord Athanar has just made it very clear that both he and Lord Eodwine will be staying here. What I do not know is why you seem to think I might have more knowledge than anyone else in this hall.”