View Single Post
Old 12-28-2009, 02:16 PM   #687
Nogrod
Flame of the Ainulindalė
 
Nogrod's Avatar
 
Join Date: Jan 2006
Location: Wearing rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves in a field behaving as the wind behaves
Posts: 9,330
Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.Nogrod is wading through the Dead Marshes.
Send a message via MSN to Nogrod
Javan's hearing

Lord Athanar gave the order to prepare the hall for the hearings. Breakfast was cleared, the tables born away to the edges of the room, and a seat was set for Wynflaed beside lord Athanar's chair. Thordnen and Coenred withdrew to bring together those that were needed, Javan, Lithor, Wulfric, and Wilheard. Once they were all assembled, they and many others of the Mead Hall, both old and new, Athanar called Javan forward.

Javan came in and walked forward to where Athanar and Wynflaed sat. He glanced towards Saeryn and then up at Thornden who stood to the side with Coenred standing beside him.

Javan came forward and stopped in front of Athanar. His mind harped back unwittingly to the only other instance he had stood before such a seat of judgment, in Eodwine's court. Then he had been guilty of burning down the stables. Now, he felt, he was less at fault, and his crime, if it could be called that, was much slighter. He looked Athanar straight in the eye.

Lord Athanar looked at the young boy and the sharp brown eyes that were nailed on him. Whether it was defiance or just trying to make a brave face he couldn't be sure, but he recognized something very familiar in Javan's presence. There was something in him that reminded Athanar of his own sons while they were younger.

Lord Athanar had looked Javan back with a stern face but suddenly it seemed like he relaxed. Leaning a little back in his chair he finally asked him. "So, you are Javan then?"

"Yes, sir," Javan answered.

"Tell me Javan, how old are you?"

"Twelve, sir, almost thirteen winters."

Athanar seemed to think for a moment before he made the next question: "What are you going to be Javan, when you grow up?"

Javan looked surprised, but he answered nevertheless. "I was sent to lord Eodwine to become a guard or some asset to his household. An eorlinga."

Lord Athanar raised his eyebrow and crossed his fingers nodding eventually. "Well, lord Eodwine must have told you what kind of man an eorling is so that you would serve him right and with honour?"

Javan looked somewhat crestfallen, for inside he felt his stomach sink slightly. He did not like to be reminded so shrewdly what Eodwine would have thought. "He did."

"How did he say an eorling should carry himself?" Athanar asked.

Javan pressed his lips together for a moment and glanced away. Then he looked again at Athanar, though less steadily than before. "By doing what was right and obedient, not acting rashly and without thought. . .thinking about others before myself." He tried to remember all that Eodwine had said that night, long ago, when they first came to Scarburg. "Mostly that I should think less of myself and more of others and act honorably in everything. I wasn't thinking of myself yesterday, in all honesty. I was defending Cnebba, not myself."

Athanar listened to Javan closely leaning forwards on his chair. When Javan fell quiet, he laid his arms on the elbow rests of the chair and straightened his back. "It is indeed a mark of an eorling to not think only of oneself but to do what is right. But even granting your words, do you think you have acted in a way that Eodwine would think honorable?"

Javan shook his head mutely.

"Now..." Lord Athanar leaned forwards again. "Do these kinds of things happen to you often, that you seem to end up in quarrels or brawls?" Lord Athanar studied Javan's expression very carefully.

Javan shrugged. "I haven't fought in more than a month, sir. Before that, yes, I guess so."

Lord Athanar's mouth widened into a smile that looked more compassionate than triumphant, but he drew it back almost as soon as it appeared. He glanced at Saeryn and then briefly at Thornden, getting the information he needed to make a fast assesment of the situation.

"Tell me then Javan, how did lord Eodwine manage to keep you away from trouble for a month? Was there a stick or a carrot... or both?"

"I don't know what you mean. After he swore to treat me like his son and I swore to act more nobly rather than a vagabond, I tried my hardest not to. I still fought, but I got better at not fighting quite so quick."

Lord Athanar rose from his chair and walked to face Javan. He laid his hands on the youngster’s shoulders and bent his back forwards to meet the boy’s eyes from almost a level height. Looking closely at Javan, studying every movement on his face he spoke now softer but no less firm.

“Well Javan. Back in time, in Helm’s Deep for instance, lads of your age were treated like eorlingas. Those were dark times. Happily we’re not there now and I don’t need to punish you accordingly, as an eorling.” He straightened his back and stood tall in front of Javan without letting his gaze or his hands off Javan. Javan understood, and trembled at his words, but continued to meet his eye.

“I don’t believe youngsters turn good by flogging them, Javan. I have been flogged by orders of Wormtongue when I was about your age… heh, several times indeed… in front of all people." He paused. Thornden and Lithor exchanged glances. Thornden clenched his jaw tightly, thinking that this was what Lithor had spoken of and now they would know what Athanar would do. Their lord continued. "But if I have become a decent man now, it is rather not because of that beating I thought unjust but disregarding the hate it planted inside me.” It looked like lord Athanar’s eyes were getting moist with memories, but he held his calm.

“So let me offer you a new deal. Let’s see how it will work.” Lord Athanar smiled now but Javan looked even more shaken and confused.

“Obedient, disciplined, patient… I think I have an idea on what you should be spending the next months with… to learn and to gain.” Lord Athanar looked mysteriously hilarious for a moment when searching the crowds with his eyes, like he was looking for someone special. Javan turned his head to look, too, though he knew not what he searched for. Finally, Athanar's face spread into an open smile, almost laughter.

This was a most odd spectacle to people looking at it from outside. Many a confused gaze was exchanged, especially between the original Scarburgians.

“Raban! Raban you old raven, there you are! Step forwards!”

There was movement in the crowds and an old grumpy man emerged from behind the backs of others much taller than him as he walked with a stoop leaning on his stick limping his other leg. Of the old Scarburgians only Lithor and Balvir recognised the gaffer.

“What is it now, my lord?” he wailed as he went. “Do you leave beating the brats to me once again?”

Javan glanced nervously at Lord Athanar, but the eorl only laughed and many of his household laughed as well. The laugh spread among some older Mead Hall people as well as the situation was comical indeed. The old man was a sight in himself and only a few had noticed him before as he had kept to himself the first evening; but also the way he seemed to make fun on Athanar and the lord not getting heated up with it kind of promised something even if the people were unsure of what it was.

“Now Javan, meet Raban. He may look odd and even sound odd…” He winked an eye to Javan clear enough for most other people to see as well: “And he actually is quite a personality…” he added smiling. But as Raban finally reached the two Athanar got more serious. “He’s a veteran of many wars; he lost his eye and ear in wars against Dunledings, his other leg he lost in Helm’s Deep… and he has served me well for as long as I remember.”

Javan looked at the old man with some repulsion. He took a deep, shivering breath and tried not to show how he felt looking at the scarred face before him.

“So you want to be an eorling Javan? For that you need a chainmail coat. Making that yourself requires patience and self-discipline and Raban here is the best if also the grumpiest mailcoat-maker I know… he thaught me to make them as well, but the one I used in the Pelennor Fields and ever since in times of duty, is made by him and envied by many, even of my superiors… and let me quarantee you that he takes care of the obedience part…” Athanar laughed out aloud with others of his houselold – and the laughter spread across the hall.

Suddenly Athanar waved his hand to indicate the fun was over. He looked at Javan carefully and laid his right hand back on Javan’s shoulder. “Let me assure you, Javan. It will not be easy. It will be tough indeed and you will shed many a tear. But you will learn not only obedience, discipline and patience, but if you get in terms with Raban you’ll learn so much more of what it is to be a soldier, of what it is to be an eorling… that I quarantee there is no better teacher that I know.”

“Watch it my lord…” Raban intervened. “If you encourage him to come too close to me I may tell him also stories about you when you were still wetting your pants!”

Athanar’s household and soldiers roared with laughter and Athanar followed them suite. Suddenly all of the Hall was laughing in an odd mixture of relief and confusion.

But Javan was not laughing. He was struck dumb with confusion. He looked at Raban and then at lord Athanar. He did not want to make chainmail, he had no desire to be a mail-smith, and he had no wish to be cooped up day after day with a crippled, half blind, half deaf old man. Athanar's joviality had dismissed the fear from Javan's mind, and as was his wont, he spoke without thought.

"I do not understand, my lord. Why am I to be punished in such a manner when I did not disobey and when I carried myself with a considerable amount of patience, bearing from your daughter insult and abuse before striking out? If either of us needs to know the meaning of patience and discipline-”

“Hold it right there young man!” Lord Athanar’s voice was loud and commanding and the smile had disappeared from his face. For a moment he gathered himself not to unleash his full frustration on the boy. What did he say… being obedient, not acting rashly and without thought… acting honourably in everything…and then punching a girl! Or now this! Where is the consistency of thought with these youngsters? Thornden should fill him in as I’m not going to argue with a boy in public.

He glanced at Thornden who looked apologetic and a little angry and impatient with his brother. Nodding to him lord Athanar turned back to Javan. “From both what you did yesterday and how you behave now it seems that so far you have not learned to not act rashly or without a thought, and you have not learned to be patient or honourable in what you do. And you can’t be an eorling before you learn that.” He studied Javan’s face carefully. “It is not so much a punishment but something for your own good, Javan… Your brother will explain it to you if you do not understand it now.”

Lord Athanar gazed over the public and then addressed it. “Javan will be supervised by master Raban the next months. Those of you who don’t know master Raban may ask of his qualities from those who do know him. I will just say this: in his prime he was one of the best soldiers this country has ever had but due to age and the multiple wounds he got mainly from helping his mates out from danger he’s now crippled and looks odd… But after not being able to serve his king as a soldier anymore he concentrated on the crafts and turned out a master in that trade as well. So even if we who are used to him may laugh not only with him but to him, please understand that we have earned our right to laugh by his consent as he is a jovial man behind the crab's armor, and he knows us. I will personally challenge every evil grin or scorn to this hero of Rohan I hear of. I hope that is understood, loud and clear?”

There was a sudden silence in the Hall that was broken by Raban himself.

“Come, Athanar, you make an old man weep from emotion in front of all that boasted chivalry. How dare you pull those easy tricks on an old man in public? Every man answers the call if they are just called for… if they are eorlinga.”

The old man studied Javan for a moment: "if they are eorlinga..." he continued as if to himself. Raban turned away and started to limp back to the crowd. Passing Thornden he turned to him and half-whispered “Your brother is a promising-looking fellow, but we have lots to do with him… not that it matters, anyway.”

Lowering his voice he added so that only Thornden could hear it: “Had lord Athanar given his boys to me, we would not be in the mess we are now...” Winking an eye to Thornden the gaffer went off through the crowd.

Javan was dismissed with a nod by lord Athanar. Thornden's face confirmed it to Javan and he backed away from the open.

The hall burst into a buzz of conversations.

Last edited by Nogrod; 12-29-2009 at 06:50 PM.
Nogrod is offline