Eorling Mead Hall

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine halted just before the door to the kitchen in order to take stock of the situation; he didn't want an arrow or other missile to put an end to him before he had a chance to do anything worthwhile. Sword in his right hand, throwing axe in his left, he crossed his weapons before him as a partial shield and took a step forward. One outlaw held Ginna by knife, another held Rowenna, and the third and smallest had his hands free and his knife dripping blood, facing down Stigend, who was wounded in the shoulder.

They could flee through the back door! Eodwine quickly crossed the space, facing the outlaws, and blocked their way. Elborn came just inside the kitchen and blocked the way to the Great Room.

"You are matched man for man," Eodwine growled. "Unhand the women and throw down your weapons!"

[Lhunardawen]

There were seconds of silence following the Eorl's challenge, as though the outlaws were weighing their options. Leaning forcedly now against the body of his captor, Ginna thought back on the last few moments with regret. She cursed herself for not moving with her instincts, for holding back, for giving in to surprise when the outlaws sprung suddenly on her. She felt the knife at her throat prick her skin, but not the pain it should have caused. Her blood was surging in anger, in disgrace, her father had not taught her all he knew only for her to end up in a situation such as this . . .

And Ginna was not used to being held under a man's power; she had been the one who overcame them. For a moment she had thought of following the girl Rowenna's lead, as an act of desperation. Rowenna . . . Ginna suddenly found her voice.

"She's with them," she snarled, pointing at Rowenna with her chin as she looked at Eodwine. "I don't know how she came to be at the knife's point now, but she's working with them, or she used to."

Ginna did not think her talking could endanger her, or else she did not care, but she went on and turned to Rowenna, "I'm sorry, Rowenna, but now it's too late for me to - how did you call it? - help you with your dogs."

[Ealasaide]

Ulric, Withold, & Ghem

“You are matched man for man,” growled the Eorl. “Unhand the women and throw down your weapons!”

Ulric exchanged a slit-eyed glance with Withold before responding. “Better to die by the blade than the rope….” He began, but was cut off by the angry voice of Withold’s hostage.

“She’s with them!” the girl cried out, pointing to Rowenna with her chin. “I don’t know how she came to be at the knife’s point now, but she’s working with them, or she used to…” She went on speaking to Rowenna but Ulric was no longer listening. He watched the Eorl’s face for his reaction. Who would he believe – Rowenna or the serving girl?

“Shut her up!” he ordered Withold from the corner of his mouth. In response, Withold pressed the flat side of his knife’s blade tightly against the girl’s throat. A mere turn of his wrist could slash her throat clean through.

“Shaddup!” he said harshly into the girl’s ear. She fell silent, but he could feel her muscles tense with rage. It was not exactly the response he had hoped for. He had hoped she was more the cowering, swooning type, but, apparently, he had no such luck.

Off to the side, near the door to the Alder Court, Ghem was feeling a little less confident than he had felt a few seconds earlier when he had landed the blow on the other man’s shoulder. While his opponent was bleeding heavily from the open wound, he had not only kept a firm grip on his axe, but had managed to relieve Ghem of his piece of firewood. Out of position now for grabbing another one, Ghem continued to brandish the cleaver threateningly. At the same time, his eyes flitted from side to side, assessing his position and searching for a way out of the rapidly filling kitchen. He almost laughed outright when his eyes fell on the man guarding the door to the Great Hall. It was none other than Elián, that same Belfalas pirate who had sold him the lock picks several months earlier. Ghem had been surprised to see Elián in the woods with the Eorl’s men that afternoon when he was captured, but had since forgotten all about him. Now seeing Elián guarding one of the exits, he couldn’t believe his luck. He began to edge surreptitiously in Elián’s direction.

As he reached the place where Withold was standing, he made a subtle gesture in the opposite direction with his head. “Out the backdoor to the kitchen yard,” he murmured. “I’ll cover yer back.”

Withold nodded and began to edge back in the direction of the door to the Alder court, dragging his unwilling hostage with him.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine wished he had more men at arms. Why did he have only two? Garwine and Thornden were good men, but these outlaws were pointing up the weakness of having only two. He had even had word from a couple young men from Meduseld who were interested: Théogud, Alwalda, and Finnas , each of them younger than Thornden, but worthy fellows. And they might not be enough either.

Some men were coming up the hallway, Garstan and Garwiné.

"Garwiné! I ordered you to stay by Rilef!"

"I'll do you more good here, my lord, punish me how you choose!"

Eodwine smiled between clenched teeth despite himself, actually relieved that Garwine had come. "To my side, then! And Garstan, I want you to guard that doorway with your life! By no means come nearer these rogues! You've saved my life enough already!"

"There, now, you rogues," said Eodwine, pleased. "We've doubled you. You've no chance of escape. Throw down your weapons and let the women go."

"Only to hang!" Ulric cursed. "I'll take as many of you down with me fighting as I can."

"Fight? Holding a woman as your shield? A more cowardly death I could not have named," Eodwine scoffed. He was tempted to mock them by challenging them to let the women go and fight to the death, but he overcame the fey urge and chose to see to the protection of his House instead. After all, these rogues would make some mistake and it would be their end.

[Ealasaide]

Ulric let the Eorl’s taunts slide past him without a reaction. Of course, he would hold a woman as his shield. He would hold a six-month-old baby as his shield if that’s what it took to save his skin. Still keeping his gaze focused primarily on the Eorl, he cast a lightning glance in either direction to check the relative positions of Ghem and Withold. Withold had begun to edge in the direction of the door to the kitchen yard, while Ghem, inexplicably, had shifted in the opposite direction. He now stood closest to the man with the axe who had first burst into the kitchen, and seemed to be moving in the direction of the doorway to the Great Hall: a doorway which was rapidly filling with men.

Pulling Rowenna with him, Ulric, like Withold, moved toward the door to the kitchen yard. Locking his gaze with that of the Eorl, he said, “We are leaving through that door. The first of your men to move against us will bear the death of this woman on his soul, for I will plunge this knife into her throat. The second man will bear the death of that young woman.” He nodded toward Withold and the serving girl. “Blood will be spilled, but the first blood will not be ours. It will be that of the ladies.”

Withold nodded and shifted his blade so that the knife pointed upward into the soft spot just below the serving girl’s chin. A single push would finish her.

When the Eorl showed no initial reaction, Ulric continued to move slowly, carefully toward the door. “Ghem!” he barked. “Open the door.”

Seeing the hallway fill up behind Elián with a half-a-dozen armed men, Ghem abandoned his plan of slipping past the seaman and did as Ulric said. He edged back past the man with axe and raised the bolt of the door to the kitchen yard. Pushing it open a crack, he glanced out. Only two men occupied the kitchen yard: a single man-at-arms and a hobbit. Ghem decided to take his chances. Closing his hand around the meat cleaver in a white-knuckled grip, he threw the door open and bolted directly at the two in the yard. With a little luck, he could be past them both before either one of them had time to react. Lowering his head, Ghem charged forward, his shoulder pointed directly into the middle of the man-at-arms’ chest. He hit him with resounding thud, knocking him off his feet and knocking the wind out of him. Leaping over his momentarily prostrate figure, Ghem pelted off as fast as he could for the open space beyond the stable. The hobbit made a grab for his leg as he passed, but a swipe of the meat cleaver at the hobbit’s arm seemed to make the halfing think twice. Ghem didn’t wait to see if the blow had actually hit its mark. He lowered his head and ran, flinching almost immediately as a rather large stone sailed past him, frighteningly close to his left ear.

As Ghem made his sudden break for freedom out the back door, the standoff in the kitchen broke as well. Ulric and Withold, dragging the two women with them, made their move for the door. Ulric, the first through the door, found himself face-to-face with the man-at-arms that Ghem had flattened on his way past. The man had recovered his feet and, although still gasping for breath, raised his sword, pointing it at Ulric. Silently cursing Ghem for his treachery, Ulric tightened his grip on Rowenna. His dark eyes studied his antagonist shrewdly, trying to get feel for what sort of man he was, what sort of strategy would be most effective against him.

Behind him in the kitchen, chaos erupted. Ulric startled as Withold came flying out the door backward and landed sprawling on his back at the bottom of the steps, his hostage on top of him, and a burly and roaring madman on top of her. Withold’s knife flew out of his hand, disappearing somewhere in the area of the woodpile. Completely ignoring the girl trapped between them, the madman had grabbed Withold by the throat and was choking the life out of him, while at the same time pounding Withold’s head against the packed dirt of the path. Withold, in a desperate attempt to save himself, had let go of the girl and groped with one hand for his attacker’s throat. The other hand threw violent punches at the man’s face, but landed very few blows, as the servant girl still squirmed and screamed between them.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine

“We are leaving through that door," Ulric growled. "The first of your men to move against us will bear the death of this woman on his soul, for I will plunge this knife into her throat. The second man will bear the death of that young woman.” He nodded toward Withold and the serving girl. “Blood will be spilled, but the first blood will not be ours. It will be that of the ladies.”

This Ulric was clever, whatever else he was. Eodwine glanced at his men, each taking his cue from him. Tight lipped, he shook his head, continuing to hold his weapons still before him. It was Eodwine's first duty to Randvér, Ginna's father, that the girl survive, even if it meant that the outlaws escaped.

Two things are clear, Eodwine thought as he watched the three scoundrels begin to make their way out the Alder Court door, this Eorl's Hall needs a real dungeon and more men at arms. He would see to them both on the morrow.

Ghem was out the door. Eodwine hoped that someone was there to stop him.

Two more pairs of lumbering runners were coming up the hallway. First came Garreth. He still had on his linked chest plate that he had made for himself, not having had a chance to take it off since the skirmish at the ruins. Eodwine widened his eyes and tried with his mobile face to get the big smith's attention. Garreth stopped and took stock; it seemed that in the heat of battle was the only time he had sense; in the heat of words one never knew what would come from him. So Eodwine was thankful that Garreth was showing caution. He nodded to Eodwine and stood in place.

Ulric, Rowenna captive in front of him, passed out the door.

Next came Harreld, also still wearing his chest plate. He stopped right behind Garreth, took one look at the outlaw and captive still in the room, and his eyes went red. He roared and pushed Garreth out of the way. He failed to draw his sword and ran full tilt at Withold and Ginna. Both captor's and captive's eyes went wide as Harreld bore down on them both.

"No!" Eodwine yelled, to no avail, and rushed forward in Harreld's wake. Next moment, Harreld had both captive and captor sprawling beneath him and backwards through the door. Ginna screamed. Had she been wounded by Withold's knife? Eodwine so no blood. But the doorway was blocked.

Eodwine looked over his shoulder. Stigend, Garwiné and Garreth stood behind him, waiting for instructions. Elborn could be seen passing through the back door out of the kitchen, Garstan right behind him.

"Garwiné and Garreth! Out the back! Follow Garstan! Stigend, your shoulder's a mess. Stay where you are."

~*~

Falco

"Blast the scrawny one!" Falco said as the smallest outlaw ducked just in time to miss his throw. He disappeared around the latrines. The dogs could be heard yammering at him, but no doubt they were of no avail, straining at their leashes.

Falco fingered his next stone. He would not miss twice. If only Thornden would keep out of the way! There was the big, black haired one. He was scowling at the one fleeing. Falco had his stone ready to throw. Suddenly there was a roar from the kitchen. The big brute looked back in surprise to see his fellow falling backward out the door, the new wench falling on top of him, also backward, with Harreld on top of them both! Good. The 'Big Trouble' had left his head in plain view, and the top of blonde girl's head only came up to his collar bone. Falco aimed and threw. The brute fell like a toppled tree. The girl struggled free of his loosened grasp and fled to the tree which she stood behind, waiting to see what would happen next. Thornden drew his sword and stood over the felled outlaw.

Meanwhile, the remaining outlaw's face was turning purple under Harreld's death grip.

"Harreld!" It was Eodwine yelling from inside the kitchen. "Harreld Smith! Your man is down!" Falco could see Eodwine's sword at the ready.

The blacksmith seemed to come to his senses and looked at Ginna, struggling beneath him.

"Oh! Your pardon, miss, I forgot about you." He went red in the face and got up off the girl and the outlaw. Ginna scrambled to her feet, apparently none the worse for wear, though she was shaking from head to toe. The outlaw lay on his back, coughing, Eodwine's sword at his throat.

[Lhunardawen]

Ginna trembled horribly as she got up to her feet. At any other time she would have felt thoroughly embarrassed to be in the position she had found herself in moments earlier, but then she probably would not have been a mere inch from certain death. Absentmindedly brushing dust off herself, she looked up at Harreld and saw the redness in his face, and the concern in his eyes. Ginna opened her mouth, completely meaning to thank him for saving her life, but before she knew it she had thrown herself at Harreld and began sobbing on his chest.

Tears streamed down her cheeks and her shoulders heaved violently, and she felt Harreld, after a bit of hesitation, lightly place an arm around her. She did not care that she might have looked like an utter fool, or that the yard was hardly the place to break down, especially with some men of the Hall and her captor just around her. The trauma she had endured was simply too much.

"Harreld," she heard Eodwine say beside her, "bring Ginna back to the kitchen."

The smith's chin brushed against the top of her head as he nodded, and this seemed to rouse Ginna. She quickly tore herself away from Harreld and walked towards the outlaw's knife, which she had seen fall earlier.

"Ginna!" Eodwine called sternly, but the girl heard nothing but the pounding in her ears. She crouched down beside the lying outlaw, placing his own knife against his throat.