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Old 12-10-2009, 11:22 PM   #655
Folwren
Messenger of Hope
 
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Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.
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Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.Folwren is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
Saeryn felt embarrassed when tears came to lord Athanar's eyes. She looked away, across the hall, and then at Degas briefly. How had she and Degas turned out thus? Good parentage, mostly...their mother and father had been kind and gentle and let them learn the lessons of life instead of holding them above it. But more recently, Eodwine himself had trained her, at least, and maybe Degas, too.

After a moment, the strong man that had been present all day returned and Athanar was once more composed and stern. He turned his speech to what must be done on the morrow, and Saeryn again looked at him, listening in silence. She was startled to hear Thornden’s named mentioned and her eyes shot towards the door. He put her fears to rest – another fight had not, apparently, taken place. She missed his implication when he added ‘at least physically.’ In just a moment, as though to confirm to her that Thornden had not been hurt, the man in question came inside with Wynflaed and they both came back towards the head table. Athanar called Thornden over and addressed himself to him.

"I want to see this Lithor and that guy who stood for him here tomorrow morning after breakfast.” Saeryn looked from Athanar to Thornden. Their eyes met briefly. “Before the military exercises,” Athanar continued. “I hope you, Thornden, will see it done. And you should be here too yourself." Thornden nodded, and considered asking why Crabannan was wanted, but he held his tongue when he saw Athanar continuing.

"And if anyone of you knows who was the person who roughed my daughter, let that person be there as well.” Thornden leaned back slightly in his chair and broke the eye contact with Athanar briefly. He knew very well who had roughed up the lord’s daughter, and apparently Athanar didn’t. He looked towards Saeryn and saw that from the way she was looking downwards at her hands, she, too, knew. He looked again at Athanar, waiting for him to finish.

When he rose from his seat, Saeryn, Degas, and Thornden rose as well. “But for now, if you have no pressing matters to share I would like to wish you a good night everyone. I have quite a many issues to settle before I can get to sleep."

Thornden gave a half hearted smile and bowed slightly. Saeryn curtsied, and Athanar turned to go. The three of them sat down again and Saeryn leaned towards Thornden across the table.

“What happened out there?” she asked in a quiet tone of voice.

“I don’t know. Athanar’s two sons were angry with Lithor and Lady Wynflaed and I arrived just in time to save him from being beaten.”

Saeryn clenched her teeth and drew back. “Don’t worry,” Thornden said, smiling a little at her anger. “Although Lithor seems unlikely to have raised his hand in defense, Crabannan was standing by and I doubt he would have continued standing by doing nothing for very long.”

“Why did they want to fight him?” Saeryn asked.

“I don’t know. Lithor refused to say.”

“The two boys came in and pulled Athanar aside to speak with him,” Degas observed. “They seemed angry about something.”

“Angry!” Saeryn said. Her eyes flashed a little. “They were probably angry that they weren’t given the opportunity to bully Lithor!”

Thornden shrugged. He played absently with his knife, turning it in his fingers with his eyes fixed on the blade, watching the light flash up and down it. “They seem like hot-headed young men. Their energy just needs to be turned to something worthwhile, that is all. I don’t think they’re really bad.”

“Don’t make excuses for them, Thornden,” Saeryn said. Thornden looked at her. “Your younger brother isn’t truly bad, either, but I expect he’s going to catch it something fierce tomorrow for hitting Athanar’s daughter, and in the larger picture, what he did is nothing worse than what Athanar’s son’s intended to do to Lithor, if you are right. Lithor is old enough to be their father, and they should respect his years, not strike at him like a vagabond. Those two young men should receive a worse punishment than Javan, for they should know better than he. But will they be? No. I can almost promise you that nothing will happen to them whatsoever.”

“Javan deserves what comes to him,” Thornden said. “Just because Athanar’s sons are not disciplined doesn’t mean that Javan shouldn’t be. Don’t think I don’t agree with you, Saeryn,” he said as he saw her bridle with anger and then prepare another answer. “But I don’t feel sorry for my brother, and I’m not really making excuses for Athanar or his sons. I’m just observing that they’re no worse than he was when he first came here. So, I think we should endeavor to accept them and treat them as Eodwine would have if he were here – give them a chance, and the benefit of the doubt, and see what we can make good.”

“You would be just as happy to be walked on, wouldn’t you, Thornden?” Saeryn asked. Thornden didn’t answer. He just looked at her. “One of your men gets accused of treason and then after being humiliated before the entire hall, goes outside for some peace, and the eorl’s own sons go out to beat him, and you’re just willing to say, ‘let’s give them the benefit of the doubt and make them good.’ I would have never imagined you would take it so mildly.”

“He wasn’t beaten, Lady Saeryn,” Thornden said.

“No. But he would have been if your brother – your brother who you don’t care about, whether he gets in trouble or no for the same crime that these two young men were about to commit and won’t be punished for – if he hadn’t come in and told you.”

“This is so, but they did not commit any wrong, and therefore I cannot see why you should expect them to be punished. I do care for my brother, but he has a hit a girl – and she happened to be the eorl’s daughter – and I’m not going to beg Athanar to not do anything to him. My power of persuasion will probably only go so far as to protect one person out of favor with Athanar tomorrow, and I think it is more important that Lithor be shielded, considering the circumstances. If you disagree, I am sorry, but I can only do my best in the circumstances given to me, and I am sorry if they do not meet your approval.” The last statement came out sounding stronger and more out of temper than he had intended it. He laid the knife down by his plate and sighed. “I’m sorry, Lady Saeryn,” he began, but she stopped him.

“No, Thornden, never mind. It is late, and we are both tired. We’ve been through a lot today and I think neither of us realized what restraint we were under as long as we were with Athanar. I’m sorry I became angry. I think I will try to go to bed.” She stood up. “Goodnight, Thornden. Goodnight, Degas.”
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