Scarburg Meadhall

[Eönwë]

Dan saw the ruins and felt lower in spirit than he had all day. He had never been here before, but it looked like it would have been such a nice place before its burning. He went towards the old mead hall. As got nearer, he could feel the dust and ash that was being blown by the wind. He could smell in it the fresh straw from the thatched roof, and wood, and... what was that? Human? Someone had been burned alive inside.

Dan entered the hall, a desolate shell of a place, and saw a figure stooped low over something. He went closer to take a look, and the man did not move a muscle. What the man was looking at suddenly became clear. A skeleton. He was filled with horror and dread. He looked closer at the man, and noticed by his posture and clothes that he must be important now, though it was not always so. He looked like a man that had suffered great hurt, or the loss of someone dear and was still recovering.

"Excuse me, sir," he asked, "Are you Lord Eodwine?"

The man rose. "I am." The Lord Eodwine tilted his head as if surprised in some way. "Strange it is that a stranger passes alone by our tents with so many folk and comes to this ruin to greet me, and yet I sense that you are friend rather than foe, so I greet you. How are you called?"

Dan replied as best he could, "Mīn nama is Daghan-Turi-Dan Warg-bana a ic gelaðie þē in hǣtst mec Dan," he said, trying his best to speak the Rohirric language. He had learned a bit on his travels and hoped that he had correctly said, 'My name is Daghan-Turi-Dan, but I invite you to call me Dan.' It wasn't exactly the phrase he would have used, but his knowlede of Rohirric was limited, and he wanted to make a good impression. At this Eodwine looked taken aback, and Dan assumed that this was because he had never heard a Drûg like himself talk at all, let alone in his own language. Indeed, many had thought his people a savage race, no better than the Dunlendings, or even worse. But the Dunlendings feared them, and woulld only attack them if they greatly outnumbered the Drûgs. Like in the case of my father, he thought. But he could not faulter now. He continued, but this time in Westron, "I come from Drúwaith Iaur, or what you folk call Old Púkel land, the homeland of our people. I have come, one of the last from that land, to help you rebuild your eorldom, and claim back all that your people have lost. And to ask for an alliance between our people." There he stopped, waiting for an answer from the Eorl, or at least a comment.

[littlemanpoet]

One of the Druadan! And speaking Eorling! Eodwine was startled all over again. But this Dan appeared to be as he claimed. Still, he had not answered Eodewine's question; but then again, Eodwine had spared him the need. An alliance? That would take some thought.

"Then I welcome you, Dan of the Druadan." Eodwine said. "Let us leave this ruin and find a more friendly place to talk."

Eodwine led the Druadan away from the wreckage, toward the baker where there were tables and seats.

"You speak of alliance, and I honor you for it. However, any alliance with someone outside the borders of Rohan must be made with my king, Eomer, in Edoras. We will talk of that later. For now, I say thank you for your offer to help rebuilt Scarburg. Would you like food and drink?"

With that, Eodwine found himself in conversation over a meager repast, for the Druadan did not ask for much. Presently, Eodwine yawned cavernously.

"I fear I am very weary. Would you like a place among the men to sleep?"

The Druadan demurred, preferring to sleep in the open, in a place he would choose. Eodwine bid Dan a good night and crawled onto a mat in the men's tent, and forgot about everything for a few hours.

BEGIN NEW DAY: JULY 9, YEAR 15, FOURTH AGE

[Groin Redbeard]

Erbrand woke up to the accidental clanging of pots and pans. He sat upright, scratched his unruly hair and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. The dew was still clinging to everything and only the faintest shred of light was coming from the eastern sky.

As Erbrand stepped out of his tent he flung his short wool cloak around his shoulders to protect him the early morning chill. The others in the camp were beginning to wake as well, he recognized a few faces from last night, mostly women who were getting utensils necessary for breakfast; he did not see the children from last night, probably still in bed at this hour. However, there was one person that he had not yet seen, he was lying a good distance away propped up against a tree. The man looked shorter than Erbrand was and younger, but more worn and weather beaten than himself. The man seemed to be awake, but it was hard to tell from that distance.

Presently Erbrand began to feel silly just standing and staring at everyone. His gaze was again drawn back to the man under the tree and their gazes locked. Seeing how rude it would be for him to simply ignore the fellow, Erbrand approached the fellow. As he drew nearer he could see that the man was not from around there, it was still hazy and dim and the shade of the tree most of the figures features from view.

"Hello sir," said Erbrand "I'm arrived last night so forgive me if I don't know your name, mine is Erbrand." he held out his hand.

The figure stirred from his position so that Erbrand could see his face. The word Dunlending sprang into his mind and already the what comfort he had in meeting him was gone, but Erbrand did not move. His hand was still held out, but his mouth and fell opend and he stood as if dazed, looking rather stupified.

[Eönwë]

"Hello, I am Daghan-Turi-Dan," said Dan, and seeig the look on his face said, "But just call me Dan, like most people do."

The man who was now known to be called Erbrand had looked at Dan strangely before. Even though he had tried to hide it, he looked nervous. It must be because he had never seen a Drúedan before. Or was it something else? Erbrand probably thought that he was a Dunlending, or something of the like, which Drûgs, to their horror, are often mistaken for. Anyway, he was determined to prove that he wasn't a mere savage.
"I am one of the Drúedain." At the blank, open mouthed look, still pasted on the man's face, he assumed that Erbrand had never heard of the Drûgs before. "We are not your enemies. We are, in fact, the ones who saved your folk as they crosssed through our forest in the War, far to the East. Many call us the Wild Men, or Goblin men, but we are far more civilised than some, bear no resemblance, whether physical or mental, to orcs whatsoever. In fact, they are our sworn enemies." Suddenly he snapped to attention.
"Ok, so that is what I am, one of the last of my race still living in ourr homelan. And what about you Erbrand? I can tell you have only ridden here in the last day or two, and what is your business in this place?"

[littlemanpoet]

When Eodwine rose and prepared himself for the day, it seemed to him that the ruin was less ominous somehow in the new day's sunlight.

As he walked about, it seemed to him that his folk (it still seemed strange to call them that) were already busy about their tasks, and seemed to be happy to be in Scarburg. That was a relief to him.

Today Falco would be leaving them, and it was important to make sure that everything went well in that regard; and Harreld's smithy would have to be built today; but there was a more pressing matter. Some unfinished business needed to be taken care of.

Eodwine found Rowenna near the baker, helping with preparations for breakfast.

"Rowenna, a word. Come with me."

She looked up, her eyes widening. Her brow furrowed. "I must tell Frodides."

"Aye. Do that. I will wait."

Rowenna nodded and went to Frodides and explained with gestures toward himself. Frodides' hands went to her hips with a look and roll of the head and set of the body's frame that said, "that man!" Then she nodded and said something brisk and not so cross, which Eodwine took to mean "hurry back when he's done with you."

Soon Rowenna had returned and watched him expectantly.

"Come with me."

Eodwine walked briskly to a point halfway between the baker of and the ruin, where not much was happening. He turned and faced her.

"Rowenna, you asked me a question that I did not answer last night." She said nothing but swallowed, her face all seriousness with not a little worry. "You asked me what I seek in a wife. I will tell you. I seek a woman who can give me an heir, will obey her lord, will rule her maids and servants with justice and mercy, will host my guests with graciousness, and above all-" he paused. "Above all, Rowenna, she must be one who cares for those of my house as if they were her very own kin. Such a woman I seek for a wife. I hope I do not seek in vain. However, I will take no less a wife than that. Are you answered?"

She looked at him and did not flinch from the way he was holding her with his eyes. "Aye, lord, I am answered."

"Good. You may return to your work."

She left him. He wondered what she would do with that news. He had meant it to be daunting. Last night she had named her ambition. Now she knew what it would take to achieve it. He wondered what to expect. Time would tell. And he hoped that she noticed that he had not named a single trait of bodily appearance.

[Groin Redbeard]

Erbrand was much relieved at Dan's response, he had heard of the Drúedain in his hometown of Aldburg as well as the Dunlendings, who he was taught to fear. Erbrand's face turned from fear to wonder, Dan spoke the common speech with ease, but Erbrand could still catch a slight accent in his voice.

"OK, so that is what I am, one of the last of my race still living in our homeland. And what about you Erbrand?" Dan asked, "I can tell you have only ridden here in the last day or two, and what is your business in this place?"

"I'm a leather craftsman from the town of Aldburg." he responded feeling more at ease, "I hope to work for the lord Eodwine when his hall is rebuilt, but until I can put my craft to use I will first help with rebuilding the hall." Erbrand surveyed the ruins of the building.

"Well, it was nice to meet anyhow, Dan." Erbrand said at length, "I still reckon I'll see you today, and perhaps we can talk more tonight, I have some questions to ask you about your homeland." Erbrand waved farewell and walked back towards his tent.

[Nogrod]

Stigend woke up with the first rays of sunlight reaching the canvas up above. He heard Kara and Frodides being already at work. He was once more awed by their resourcefulness and dedication to their master and the whole community. Where would the world be... where would we men be without women of that kind?

That thought brought one particular woman to his mind as he still laid down in the ground feeling Cnebba's breathing on his neck and the boy's little fingers holding his tunic. He turned carefully as not to wake up the boy and looked for his wife only to see her gone as well.

Last night she had wished to have a discussion. She had asked rather bluntly, "Why did you make Cnebba climb there? What were you thinking?"

Stigend had kind of seen that one coming. He had looked at his wife into her eyes and tried to get the thing over with as smoothly as he could. This hadn't been exactly the first time they had had this kind of discussion and Stigend knew only too well how they normally ended.

“The lad needs confidence... and practise… and I knew he could do that. Let’s not raise an issue about this… All is fine my dear.” He had settled his right hand on her shoulder and pressed it carefully giving a light smile to her.

Modtryth hadn't smiled. "Confidence maybe. But not danger. He seems capable enough to get himself in trouble - you should not put him in more danger or encourage reckeless behaviour in him."

"But he has not been running wild in the scar without our leave or done any other reckless things - like Javan." At that moment Stigend had suddenly stopped. The swearing of oaths was clear in his mind. "I mean... I wouldn't like to see Cnebba facing that kind of situation. And he has done some valuable work under his father's supervision by helping us pull up the baker. Remember he needs confidence not only of himself to what he can do but also the confidence that the others will have a higher regard on him. It's fine I told you." Stiigend still managed a smile but he was clearly more uncomfortable as he had been just a moment ago.

"I would not let my son behave like Javan has. Never." Modtryth had answered him in a most serious manner. Her tone had been firm and proud. "I know, probably better than you do, that he has the need to be respected. But is there no other way to achieve it than by making him do reckless tricks that will, in the worst case, inspire him to do it again, without his father's supervision?"

Stigend had sighed even if he had been trying to pull on a brave face. He had just felt that he was going to lose this one as well. But he had still made a brave effort. "Don't you think we're both thinking of his best? We just see what is reckless differently? I thought I was encouraging him to do work for the community, to the Mead Hall... But maybe you're right... like you always are." At that point Stigend had frowned under the gaze of his wife. "I'll promise no climbing... for a while." Stigend had managed to flash a smile but was only faced with Modtryth's stern eyes. "But I'd like to see him help his dad and Garstan... all of us... with Garmund. They should take some tasks, easier tasks that is... To foster them the right way." He had ended hopefully.

There had been something unreadable in Modtryth's expression. "Maybe he should help you, yes," she had answered at length. "And as for his tasks, promise me you won't make him do anything dangerous that he would consider fun and retry in his free time when no one is looking after him."

Modtryth had been looking tired and Stigend had seen his chance there. He had promised and they had gotten back to their places.

Suddenly Stigend became aware of a strange voice talking somewhere to his left... it was speaking with that new man, Erbrand. He got up quietly as not to wake up Cnebba and walked out from under the baker only to see Erbrand walking away from the stranger leaning to a tree. He was about to approach the strange-looking man when he saw lord Eodwine coming forwards from the other direction nodding to the stranger.

"Good morning my lord!" Stigend called the approaching lord Eodwine. He was about to continue by asking him whether he had slept well but then thought the better of it after remembering the bodies in the burnt down hall and Eodwine's reaction to them. So he just started slowly towards him and the makeshift kitchen where the women were already getting a breakfast ready to be served.

"So some felling of trees today, right?" he asked lord Eodwine as they were close enough for him to speak with a normal voice.