Hard Winters RPG

[Firefoot]

"Not too soon," said Leof. "I'd guess a couple more weeks." This would be his third year of delivering foals, and though he was getting better at recognizing the signs of upcoming labor, he still found it difficult to predict, especially since all mares seemed to be just a bit different, and the length of their pregnancies could be highly variable - about 11 months, but give or take as much as three weeks. Cinderfoot had been bred last June - theoretically the foal could come a week from now or six. It was her first pregnancy, too, so he had nothing to compare to. He hoped it would be several more weeks, though - although the horses had had able quantity of feed during the long winter, Leof had eventually run out of everything but regular hay. He knew that horses couldn't live off hay alone anymore than a person could eat nothing but potatoes and still be properly nourished. Since the caravan had come, he'd been reintroducing other grasses and grains to the horses' diet, and he figured the longer the mare could eat well while still pregnant, the better.

"Come see," Leof said to Eoghan, beckoning him closer. Cinderfoot was a steady horse and, though mares often became moody and restless before delivering, she seemed calm this morning. Eoghan stepped closer and Leof showed him what he was looking at.

"See how her udder is getting bigger?" Leof asked. "It's getting ready to make milk for the foal. When the milk comes, it means she's almost ready. And see how wide her sides are? When the foal is ready to come out, Cinderfoot will actually get narrower, but her belly will hang down much lower." He could see Eoghan taking in the information and filing it all away. "Would you like to feel the foal kicking?" he asked. He was relieved every time he came in and felt the foal still moving - that was how he'd first known something was wrong with the mare who'd lost her foal that winter.

"Yes," said Eoghan again simply. So Leof lifted up the boy's thin body and placed his hand against the mare's side where he'd seen and felt the movement before.

[Mithalwen]

"Westu Thornden hál!" responded Elfthain looking up across Safran's broad back at the greeting. Had the tall man been merely Javan's brother he might have been less formal, but he did not forget that as well as being a lot older he was also the Eorl's steward and erred on the side of caution, despite the genial greeting he had received.

"Aye sir, Elfthain Théodmund's son am I, at your service. Javan has spoken of you". The boy (and very boyish and awkward he felt in comparison to the Steward) paused in his grooming, bowed and then allowed himself to relax a little adding "only good things, of course!", then nodding towards his horse "T'is a small mercy at least, she is not a grey". He grinned ruefully. "And it must be done for she needs to be exercised even if we are not leaving today - maybe then she will have less energy for rolling in mud".

As he spoke he mentally assessed the man before him; tall as his uncle Elwin and as broad, though much younger, and darker in colouring, but not as dark as Javan. There was a confidence in his manner and a spark of something in his eyes, but what? Humour? Fiery spirit? Ambition? he wondered. Whichever it was, Elfthain concluded that looking up to this man might be more than a physical necessity.

"I don't suppose you know sir, when we are leaving that is?".

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Stefnu looked down at Ruari. The little girl was beaming, her large eyes pleading.

"Good morning," Stefnu smiled back. She stroked Ruari's head. Stefnu felt a deep affection for the girl, not only because she was so cute, but there was perhaps something else. She had spent large part of her life raising two boys; the sight of a little girl especially as lively as Ruari moved her in a way she wasn't accustomed to.

Stefnu hadn't seen the exchange between Ledwyn and Ruari earlier, being occupied with morning preparations. She also had not been there at the moment Saeryn brought the girl in. She had been just fetching some more water from the outside, when she had bumped into Áforglaed. The young soldier had greeted her happily, explaining that he was up early. He had seemed to be unusually full of energy.

"I think it stopped raining just before the dawn, and that woke me up," he explained cheerfully. He sounded so silly that Stefnu had to smile to herself. Áforglaed then briefly explained that he had taken a little exercise of running around the fields, "as long as it hasn't started raining again". His unbelievably muddy boots (and trousers) bore witness to that.

"But look what I also found," he said finally, and pulled a tangle of some plants out of his belt pouch. Not plants, Stefnu corrected her observation, flowers: pale yellow blossoms, some almost white, now half-closed and laying somewhat limp and damp in Áforglaed's palm.

"Primroses," Stefnu recognized them. "Where did you find them?" She touched one of the flowers and leaned to look at it closer.

Áforglaed gestured to the fields. "Somewhere out there." He straightened himself. "Would you like to, er, have them? They are pretty, you could, er, wear them in your hair or something," he finished.

Stefnu laughed. "I think they are a little too damp and limp for that. But never mind that," she added, seeing Áforglaed's apparent disappointment. "They are still pretty. I can take them." That seemed to make the soldier happier. "Thank you," she said, picking them up from his hand. "But now I had to get back inside."

She had put the flowers aside and gone back to her work until Ruari's interruption. Now the little girl was there, looking up at her. Stefnu would happily give Ruari whatever she wanted, however, she also felt it was not necessarily for the best to give her honey every morning just because she asked for it. The first time, it had been a different case; also she was not entirely certain how lady Saeryn would feel about it. Nonetheless, she did not want to leave Ruari disappointed.

"You know what," she said, smiling at the girl. "Honey is good, but it is not always good to eat too much of it in the morning. But I have a better idea! What if we made your porridge a little more special instead? I know how we can make it more pretty!"

Ruari seemed to be first surprised by that proposition, so Stefnu quickly used the moment and picked up the bundle of flowers from the shelf. "Look," she said. "These are primroses. Aren't they pretty? We can lay them around on top of your bowl - like this - and your porridge can be much more special then."

[Folwren]

Thornden considered Elfthain with a slightly keener glance after the young man’s greeting, and his eyebrows went up a little in surprise. Until then he had merely looked on the lad as a new friend for Javan, but now he thought perhaps this Elfthain son of Théomund may be more than just another soldier in training. He clearly had a more gentile upbringing than Thornden and Javan had ever had; indeed more than any of the men-at-arms that currently worked in the hall.

As Elfthain bowed and proceeded to speak, Thornden reflected that perhaps this young man would be a good asset to the hall.

“I don’t suppose you know, sir, when we are leaving, that is,” Elfthain said.

“No,” Thornden said. He smiled briefly, his eyes twinkling a little. He liked Elfthain, he decided. He liked him a lot. “Have you been long from home, Elfthain son of Théomund? Or is this your first experience as a soldier?”

[Folwren]

With Léof’s arms around his middle, Eoghan reached out both hands and laid them against the mare’s side. Cinderfoot switched her tail about, but Eoghan barely flinched as it hit him across the face. His mouth opened into a little ‘o’ and his eyes widened as he felt the stretch and movement of the foal inside the swollen belly. He turned his head to look up at Léof and a slow, huge smile spread across his face. He looked back at the mare and kept his hands splayed on her side.

They stood thus for over a minute until Léof set Eoghan back down. The boy stood to the side while Léof finished checking her over. Although he said nothing as he watched, the child stood with a thoughtful air about him, and it was clear a thought was growing and hatching in his mind.

At length, when Léof was almost finished with his work, Eoghan finally found voice for what he had in his mind. “Do you think the baby horse could be mine?” he asked. “Papa says I am to learn soon to ride. I need a horse.”

Ruari and Saeryn

Ruari drew back and looked at the flowers in Stefnu’s hand. She tilted her head a little to one side and narrowed her eyes in consideration. She took another step back.

“I don’t like flowers,” she announced, and turned away and climbed up onto the bench.

She had scarcely returned to her original position when Saeryn re-entered the kitchen. “Are those oats about done?” she asked Ledwyn. Then, looking around and catching Stefnu’s rather displeased, even hurt, expression, she stopped in her tracks and asked, “What is the matter?”

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Stefnu felt deep disappointment at being rejected by Ruari; she had imagined the little girl would like the flowers. But it seemed this was not the case. At least not now, who knows if it wasn't just her mood at this moment?

"What is the matter?" Lady Saeryn asked.

Stefnu looked at her, forcing herself back to smile.

"Ah well," she said, laying the flowers back on the empty shelf. "Ruari wanted to make her porridge more special, I suggested making it prettier with some flowers. I should have known it was not her thing," she finished, smiling apologetically.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine nodded. "I will hold court today and this will be announced." His head jerked and his brow furrowed; he looked at Scyld with concern. "This could be harder for you than it might otherwise be, because of your name. I do not think that I want to share the secret of your name, everyone else calling you Nydfara. Even were you to choose to be Nydfara henceforward, I do not want to own the secret with you of your former name. If you are to be at Scarburg, you must be Scyld, and that must be explained to the folk here, and they must be told the truth. I do not see another way. What say you?"

Scyld nodded slightly; it was awkward - everything about this conversation and Eodwine's coming announcement was awkward. But he had given this matter plenty of thought himself, and wasn't it partly fear of his true name being revealed that had driven him to Linduial? Though it had not occurred to him to continue using Nydfara as his name. "It shall be as you say," Scyld answered. "I think I shall go by Scyld again, though if there are any who would prefer to still call me Nydfara, I would not mind."

Eodwine smiled with a cock of his head. "That is fair enough." I can think of one young lady among our folk who may prefer it as a term of endearment, he thought to himself since she knows him better than most by it. "But we need to work out before then what need be said and what need not. I would that you and I agree on it now."

Scyld considered a moment what he might prefer left unsaid to the Hall at large before a realization struck him. Though he doubted Eodwine meant it as a trap, Scyld could see the question as nothing else. If he asked for anything not to be shared, it would be to make himself look better by hiding something. Eodwine had made his thoughts on duplicity quite clear; Scyld did not wish to be seen as immediately falling back into his secretive ways. "To me, it seems clear that my role in both the kidnapping and rescue of Lady Linduial must be told," he said. "Beyond that, you know your folk better than I; what do you think they deserve to know?"

Eodwine smiled. "If you are willing that these things be told, then I can think of nothing that need be held back. I shall tell Thornden and the others to ready for court today."

"I am willing," Scyld said. Not entirely true, but what else could he say? He had not expected anything he told the Eorl to remain secret anyway.

"Good. I will see the thing arranged, for later today. Now I must see to affairs around Scarburg, I have been too idle of late." Eodwine rose, bid Scyld good parting, and left the Mead Hall.