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The speech ended. Erbrand and Crabannan gave each other grim stares and slowly applauded. Erbrand did not care too much for the speech. It was as if it was shrouded in a dark mist, very depressing. One step out of line and there will be trouble for Scarburg. Yet, even if Athanar was a bit headstrong, perhaps he could solve the problems with the local lords. This was Erbrand’s primary concern, for the basest duty of a lord is to protect his people. Everything else would be put to right when Eodwine recovers.
Poor Saeryn. Athanar really could be that cruel! Erbrand hated the way that Athanar broke the news to the entire hall. Effective, using Eodwine’s illness as a crutch to lean on. And degrading Saeryn for all of Scarburg to see! Any man who would do such a thing is afraid that his rule will not last, but he forgets that Rohan’s women are strong. Old Scarburg will stand behind her if she were to contend with this “lord.” Erbrand’s anger, however, was soothed by Crabannan, of all people.
“Come, shall we play?” And with that Crabannan strode forth to the center of the hall and struck on his harp a fast and merry tune. Erbrand soon followed and amidst the music and discussion of the hall, laughter began to arise.
Lithor
“No doubt, no doubt!” Lithor laughed as Matrim finished his story.
“But tell me, Matrim, what did the man say after that?”
“Why nothing. He just turned purple and walked away.”
This produced more laughter from the table. They had forgotten their uneasiness from Athanar’s speech. Modryth was coming around serving drinks.
“What this feast needs is a bit of livening up!” Lithor said after the laughter abated.
“What more could we need,” asked Osmund. “This is what we like: good food, good company, and a beautiful woman to flatter.” He winked at Modryth.
“I mean something else.” And with that being said, Lithor got up and strode to the wall were some of the armaments were hanging. After gathering several spears from the wall he strode to the center of the hall.
“Friends, friends!” he exclaimed with outstretched arms in a loud voice that silenced the music. “I would like to welcome our guests tonight for the duration of their stay with us here at Scarburg and to our gracious temporary lord.” Lithor bowed in the direction of the high table.
“First, allow me to introduce myself. My lord, gentlemen, I am Lithor. I am half horse, half lion, and a little kin to a snapping turtle. I have got the fastest horse, the prettiest sister, the surest lance, and the ugliest dog in the Middle-emnet. My father can lick any man in Dunland and I can lick my father. I can hug a bear too close for comfort and eat any man opposed to lord Eodwine.” His boasts produced some laughter from the crowd.
“As a challenge to all men here tonight I propose a friendly contest.” Lithor raised his spear and promptly threw it at a horizontal beam at the far end of the hall. The spear hit the beam with a thud that echoed through the hall. Murmurs began to arise.
“Friends!” Lithor cried again with outstretched arms. “As a gift to any of the newcomers who can throw their spear closest to mine, I will give to them my spear; three woolen coats for the oncoming winter; two quivers of arrows for the winter hunts; two swords for which I haggled from our dear smith Harreld; and twelve beaver pelts, which will catch a fair price at our local tanner.” Lithor looked at Erbrand and gave him a friendly wink. Erbrand frowned a little I never should have shown him how to set snares! Oh well, all for the greater good.
“So, in the name of friendly competition and of the honor of the individuals seated here tonight, step forward those who would take up this challenge!”
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