Hard Winters RPG

[Mithalwen]

“I am Javan,” he said, as the boy tied the mare to the ring. “What are you called?”

"I am Elfthain" replied the young soldier, "and this is Safran," he added unbridling the little mare. "Say hello Saff" he added tapping her shoulder lightly and the horse lifted her right foreleg up and before her and waved it as if shaking hands a few times. "Well done girl", praised her master finding a rather batterd bit of carrot in his pocket which Saffy deigned to accept. "She can do other stuff too...even a proper bow on one knee...or could" Elfthain added a bit sheepishly,realising it might seem a bit babyish to teach one's horse tricks.

He was itching to ask about the evident bad blood between Javan and Wilheard but hadn't the nerve, and his babbling was the consequence. "I was only thirteen when I got her and it seemed like a good idea then" he covered, trying belatedly to give the impression that he was much too grown up for such things now. He hefted the heavy saddle from Saffy's back to a saddle horse, and unfolded the saddle blanket to cover her back so she wouldn't get a chill while he worked on her. He had retrieved grooming kit from his luggage and set to work chatting to Javan as he did so "I came with the waggons as is no doubt obvious. Can't say it was the most enjoyable time I have had. He..." Elfthain nodded at Wilheard's departing back, "is not a ray of sunshine. In fact he is a complete misery... I think even that brute of a horse of his is better company but unfortunately he is my commanding officer.. or maybe he isn't anymore now we are here!" The boy's face brightened wondering about this technicality. "but aren't you in a hurry to get something to eat? I won't be very long though, there is no point getting her very clean since she is being turned out". As he talked he had been checking Saffy's feet for stones and her legs for injuries then rubbed her coat where her tack had been and made sure there was no sign of soreness and brushed off the worst of the loose hair. "That will do for now, but I will sweep up if you lend me a broom". Elfthain looked ruefully at the drifts of dusty bay hair on the stable floor. "Apart from that she is ready to go out if you show me where..but shouldn't we tell Leof about the food first?".

[Firefoot]

Rowenna was quiet for a time, and at first Scyld thought she was merely taking the time to think of a story. Perhaps it truly had been an uneventful time in the Hall.

Then she said, “We were attacked by Easterlings,” and Scyld wondered instead if this was a story she was reluctant to tell for some reason. She certainly did not seem eager to share more details, which, of course, only intrigued Scyld more, as if this thoroughly unexpected opening to a story were not enough. They dropped off their loads and headed back outside for another load.

“Well, it seems the attack failed, seeing as the Hall and most of its people are still here,” said Scyld dryly. “Though how that came to pass, I cannot see.” Scyld was no soldier, but even he could see that the Hall was poorly situated for defense against a determined attacker.

[Firefoot]

Léof was less than pleased to see Wilheard leading his mare into the stable, and it was hard to say which of the two he welcomed less. Probably the horse, he decided. Wilheard, though taciturn and surly, mostly kept to himself and had a good hand with horses, which Léof respected. His horse, on the other hand, had kicked out her stall wall last year and was prone to biting. Léof thought that he had finally come to an understanding with her right before Wilheard had left. Now Léof supposed he would have to start all over.

He went back out to the courtyard and saw that there were still a few horses left who had not been seen to at all, mostly those harnessed to the carts that were still being unloaded. Léof chose one and led him into the stables. He seemed a good-natured animal, and after untacking him Léof started to lead him out of the stable when he caught the sound of his name. He looked down the aisle to see Javan talking to a young man nearby and changed his course.

“I am Léof,” he said to the newcomer. He glanced back and forth between him and Javan. Surely Javan would be able to help him with anything in the stables? “Is all well here?”

[Folwren]

Javan's eyes widened with surprise when Elfthain made his horse show a courteous leg. He grinned broadly from ear to ear as Elfthain explained she knew more tricks. He stood by, watching and listening in silence as Elfthain brushed down his mare quickly, talking all the while.

"That will do for now," Elfthain said as he finished, "but I will sweep up if you lend me a broom. Apart form that, she is ready to go out if you show me where. But shouldn't we tell Léof about the food first?"

"Never mind sweeping up!" Javan said. "Time will come for that later. We do need to find Léof, though."

He turned about as he spoke and nearly bumped into the person in question. "I am Léof," Léof said. "Is all well here?"

"Aye," Javan answered. "All's well. This is Elfthain, just come with everyone else, and here is his horse, Safran." He gave her a friendly slap on the shoulder. "He's taught her all sorts of odd tricks, he says, and sometime I'm going to see them. But Saeryn has sent word that there is food to be had inside, and we were about to find you and tell you so."

Ruari

"No, Papa!" Ruari said, leaning back and sitting on her heels. "There is porridge made! And I found a potato! And a nice man brought honey, and maybe I can have some, if I have been good, Stefnu says. But," she dropped her voice suddenly, remembering abruptly Saeryn's second instructions. "I am not to wake Eaghan up. Just you."

[Mithalwen]

Elfthain was happy to let Javan introduce him to the ostler and merely smiled and nodded but he nearly choked at his next words "He's taught her all sorts of odd tricks, he says, and sometime I'm going to see them. ".

He realised he had been babbling but having replayed in his mind as much of what he said as he could remember he was fairly sure he hadn't promised any such thing. Much as he was grateful that Javan didn't seem to think Saffy's talents juvenile, but was if anything impressed, it was some time since she had performed her full repertoire and they might well need to practise in private before demonstrating before an audience of even one. Maybe he wouldn't be around long enough to need to make good on his "promise".

The possibility didn't cheer him surprisingly. Friendships had become more complicated in recent years. The boys he had grown up with, in and around Upbourn had become.. not distant exactly.. careful as awareness grew that he would be their landlord one day and if he planned only a short military career, that day might be sooner rather than later. Conversely at Edoras he knew some feigned friendship in the hope of advancing their careers, knowing that his great uncle had reached the rank of full Marshal of the Mark and Elwin was tipped to match that achievement ere he was done.

Finally he had been made aware, in the course of perhaps the most excruciating of a series of mortifying and largely one sided conversations he had been subjected to since he reached adolescence, that he was on the brink of being a very eligible bachelor and that not all who might seem interested in him, were interested in him. With every friendly overture being filled with potential peril it was a bit of a relief to be where no one, including it seemed his commanding officer, had a clue about him and consequently no designs on him to provide fortune or favour. The place might be less congenial but it had advantages.

He walked with Javan and Leof to where the horses were to be turned out and thought it best to say something to temper expectation "She may not remember the tricks - it has been a while... we have had to learn so much cavalry training... battle formations and the like, there isn't the time for much else. Saffy isn't big enough to always keep up - my uncle says she is made for comfort not speed. I have a young horse I am bringing on at home over a hand taller, so we may breed from Saff next year, while she is still fairly young - and if we can decide what sort of foal we want". The mare, unware her future was being planned, shook her head now freed from its halter and seemingly deciding that the patches of mud were more tempting than the grass sank to her knees with a contented grunt and rolled happily.

[littlemanpoet]

She had intended to say that one thing about the Easterlings, then go into the kitchen and stay there where it was too noisy to say much of anything, and so be safe from having to admit that it was she who had led the victory. However, she found herself passing through the door that he held open for her, and walking next to him as he made his guesses about the attack.

"Yes, the attack failed, though one of the Easterlings stayed. His name is Jian, though I have not seen him all the day. He is interesting, and quite different. You might like him."

[Firefoot]

In truth, Léof was only half-listening to Elfthain talking about his pony, though he smiled and made polite noises where suitable. At any other time he would happily have picked up this conversation. Now, a much greater part of his mind was occupied contemplating the food inside, and how much work he had yet to do in the stables. A couple hours’ worth, he thought, and his dinner would not wait that long. Best, then, to continue as he was, getting all of the horses minimally comfortable before eating his own dinner. Afterwards, he would have to finish getting the horses settled, though he had little doubt that after a good meal he would want nothing more than to sleep.

Having released their horses into the paddock (Safran to roll in the mud, and Léof’s horse to nibble at the sad grass that had spent so many months yellowing under the snow), Léof turned to Elfthain and Javan and said, “Elfthain, welcome to you and Safran both – let me know if you need anything or have any questions. Javan, I’m going to make sure all the horses are settled before eating. I’ll leave it up to you if you’d rather eat now.”

[Firefoot]

Scyld now felt fairly certain that Rowenna did not wish to talk in detail of the attack, though if that was the case it confused him that she had ever brought it up. In any case, he made up his mind to ask some questions of others – whether it was gossip or a riveting tale that he would find, he was interested either way. For now, he allowed her to change the subject to this Jian fellow.

“He is interesting, and quite different,” Rowenna said. “You might like him.”

Having met quite a number of the Haradrim in his journey to Dol Amroth, Scyld could well imagine that he must be an interesting fellow. In the tales of the Great War, the Haradrim and the Easterlings always seemed to be mentioned in the same breath, and in Scyld’s mind they were much the same. The Haradrim he had met bore little love for their northern neighbors, and Scyld had difficulty imagining any of them wishing to leave their own people to dwell among strangers.

“You will have to introduce me,” he said. They came to the last cart that still had goods on it – the unloading had gone more swiftly that Scyld had imagined, with so many hungry bodies to help carry in the food. “Our last load, I think,” he said, then let the conversation lapse as they headed back inside. He could not get a read on her – she had gone from polite reservation to laughter tinged with something deeper and back again so quickly that Scyld’s head was swimming. Inside, the kitchen was full of people jubilant over their first real meal in a long time – Scyld had never seen so many people so excited about plain porridge. Several women were still hard at work, making more porridge, cleaning dishes, and as they put their burdens down, Rowenna spoke over the noise: "I ought to help them." Scyld nodded, and she was gone, leaving him to wonder what he ought to make of their conversation.

Perhaps that sort of thinking was better done on a full stomach. Scyld helped himself to a bowl of porridge and took it out into the main hall to find someplace less crowded to sit down.