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Firefoot · 07-23-2010, 01:29 PM

Saddle this horse, stable that one. Bring one horse in. Let another out to graze. Léof wasn’t even totally sure how many horses were in residence at Scarburg at the moment, much less which horse belonged to which rider. Chaos, absolute chaos, that was all these new folk had brought with them. People seemed to be in and out of the stable at all hours of the day or night and he didn’t know who half of them were or if they had any legitimate business in the stable.

Honestly, it was an accident waiting to happen. Already things were getting misplaced, and that was only a step away from lost or stolen. As glad as he was that several of the newcomers were brushing down their own mounts, they didn’t always put things back in the proper places.

And it didn’t help that most of them seemed to regard him as having very little real authority. He’d heard the term “stableboy” tossed around more than once, and it was starting to grate. He had always been slender, it was true, and the scruff on his chin resembled a beard in the same way a Hobbit’s pony resembled one of the Mearas, but he had put on a couple of inches in height during the last couple months (finally – it had only taken nearly seventeen years). That ought to count for something, right?

But such was his lot. Too old (and with too many responsibilities) to run around with Javan and the younger boys, but too young for real camaraderie with the men of the hall. He’d been hopeful to see that the younger of the new lord’s sons seemed about his age, though his hope had been somewhat dampened since their arrival, in large part because of Lithor’s trial earlier that morning. Both brothers had seemed to him then like troublemakers, at least to some degree. Maybe they just weren’t sure how to fit in here yet. It might yet be worth some sort of friendly overture to Wilheard; first impressions were not always correct.

But now there was some fuss going on in the stableyard; the soldiers were all gathering. They’d been putting their horses away, and now they were going back out? He rushed out in time to hear the captain of the men-at-arms dispensing instructions for search parties. They were after… Lithor? Had there really been some credence to the trial against him this morning? And some fugitive whose name Léof had not heard. He thought a moment. Lithor had been through the stables with Erbrand earlier, he thought, though he had paid little mind. He’d been more focused on getting the stable in some semblance of order before all the soldiers brought their horses back from drills. What in Middle-earth was going on? Chaos, just like he’d said.

He spotted Thornden only a couple of feet away heading somewhere, but Léof caught his attention: “Thornden! What’s going on here?”

07-23-2010, 01:29 PM	#754
Firefoot Illusionary Holbytla Join Date: Dec 2003 Posts: 7,646	Léof Saddle this horse, stable that one. Bring one horse in. Let another out to graze. Léof wasn’t even totally sure how many horses were in residence at Scarburg at the moment, much less which horse belonged to which rider. Chaos, absolute chaos, that was all these new folk had brought with them. People seemed to be in and out of the stable at all hours of the day or night and he didn’t know who half of them were or if they had any legitimate business in the stable. Honestly, it was an accident waiting to happen. Already things were getting misplaced, and that was only a step away from lost or stolen. As glad as he was that several of the newcomers were brushing down their own mounts, they didn’t always put things back in the proper places. And it didn’t help that most of them seemed to regard him as having very little real authority. He’d heard the term “stableboy” tossed around more than once, and it was starting to grate. He had always been slender, it was true, and the scruff on his chin resembled a beard in the same way a Hobbit’s pony resembled one of the Mearas, but he had put on a couple of inches in height during the last couple months (finally – it had only taken nearly seventeen years). That ought to count for something, right? But such was his lot. Too old (and with too many responsibilities) to run around with Javan and the younger boys, but too young for real camaraderie with the men of the hall. He’d been hopeful to see that the younger of the new lord’s sons seemed about his age, though his hope had been somewhat dampened since their arrival, in large part because of Lithor’s trial earlier that morning. Both brothers had seemed to him then like troublemakers, at least to some degree. Maybe they just weren’t sure how to fit in here yet. It might yet be worth some sort of friendly overture to Wilheard; first impressions were not always correct. But now there was some fuss going on in the stableyard; the soldiers were all gathering. They’d been putting their horses away, and now they were going back out? He rushed out in time to hear the captain of the men-at-arms dispensing instructions for search parties. They were after… Lithor? Had there really been some credence to the trial against him this morning? And some fugitive whose name Léof had not heard. He thought a moment. Lithor had been through the stables with Erbrand earlier, he thought, though he had paid little mind. He’d been more focused on getting the stable in some semblance of order before all the soldiers brought their horses back from drills. What in Middle-earth was going on? Chaos, just like he’d said. He spotted Thornden only a couple of feet away heading somewhere, but Léof caught his attention: “Thornden! What’s going on here?”