Scarburg Meadhall

[Eönwë]

Dan looked around him at the green leaves of the trees, rustling in a the gentle breeze. Even though it looked calm, Daghan-turi-Dan had a feeling that today was not an ordinary day. It would take hard work and determination, but if everything went well they'd all be ok. He could see people coming out of their tents and looking at him strangely, and then disappearing again, back into their tents or into the main baker.

He realised that many of these people had hadn't met him, or didn't even know who he was, or what he was doing here. He would need to find a way to introduce himself. By now it was mid-morning, and almost the whole site was awake and getting ready for breakfast. Dan decided that the best thing to do would be to go right to the baker and meet everyone. And besides, he hadn't eaten properly for a long time, and he needed to sate his ravenous appetite.

[littlemanpoet]

"So some felling of trees today, right?" Stigend asked as he came into the baker.

Eodwine looked at him, saying nothing at first. He wondered how many objections he would have to negotiate in order to see clear to getting the new hall built of stone.

"What would you fell trees for? And where would you get them, seeing as I refuse to let these few be felled that line this property?"

[Nogrod]

Stigend was waiting for the accompanying smile or something but it never came. He was stunned by his lord's reaction, indeed he couldn't believe his ears. Now where from is the wind blowing today? The lord he had learned to love and respect as a well-mannered, polite and open had basically scorned him. But what he had just said was clearly no joke as he didn't smile. What have I done to deserve this?

Stigend couldn't answer his lord. The only thing he was able to say was an "erm..., well..., uhh..."

There was something he didn't quite get. Houses were built from wood to be sure. There were exceptions to that like the legendary Minas Tirith he had heard of, or the Great Hall in Edoras but even that had required a host of skilled craftsmen and even more manual labourers to finish. And there had not been any talk of the Mead Hall been made out of anything else than wood. And what about the trees here? "seeing as I refuse to let these few be felled that line this property". Now where did that come from? How could I "see" his refusal as this is the first time I hear of it? Stigend tried to remember everything from the day before but couldn't recall lord Eodwine saying anything of the sort to him or to anyone else around him that day for that matter.

Finally he braved himself to talk.

"Excuse me my lord... but I don't quite understand. My last day went by building the baker so I may not be as knowledgeable of any recent plans. And I don't need be, I admit. I'm sorry to have asked... erm... uhh... I just thought it would be a natural thing to make the Hall from wood... I mean from what would you make it with us... I mean with these people... us, well..." Stigend fell silent for a moment as he found himself babbling and facing a dead end. "Oh, I'm sorry. Please my lord, do not take my words as an offence as that's not what they were meant to be."

Stigend looked at lord Eodwine tentatively as to see what would follow. Or is he just having too much trouble? Those skeletons in the ruins seemed to move him a lot... Oh my, I should be somewhere else right now... The worries of the lords are not for the subjects to muse about...

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine was smiling inside the whole time, but kept his face straight. He hoped that he could hold back a twinkle in the eye just a bit longer as Stigend visibly wrestled with his own curt reply. When Stigend had finished with a difficult apology, Eodwine finally broke into a smile and cuffed Stigend on the shoulder.

"You need not ask fear having given offense, my friend. I have not spoken much of it, but now that the old house is in ruins, it came into my mind that I would rather build a hall of stone, since we have the Scar so nearby. The trees are scarce here and I like them, tall and graceful as they are lining the edge of this land. I've seen the Scar up close and I am sure there are big rocks of great number in those rough half-hills that we could move and fashion as we wish. And once we have done that, we can see to hauling wood from trees that may be felled from the swamps, to make walls and other such woodwork inside. What think you?"

Rowenna

She bit down on the smile that had formed on her lips even as she walked away from Eodwine, back to the baker. She felt like twirling around like a little girl! He had told her what he sought in a wife, and why tell her unless he meant that she might become that one day? She had not felt so happy and light and full of hope since before the brigands!

She busied herself with the various tasks Frodides and Kara set her to, and did notice that they seemed to look at her a little differently, especially Ginna, as if they saw something in her that they usually did not see. She did know that the typically straight face, or even frown, that she normally wore, had been replaced by a smile that she seemed unable to remove from her face. She felt like singing! But she kept herself quiet and did her chores, most happily.

[Nogrod]

"I've seen the Scar up close and I am sure there are big rocks of great number in those rough half-hills that we could move and fashion as we wish. And once we have done that, we can see to hauling wood from trees that may be felled from the swamps, to make walls and other such woodwork inside. What think you?"

Stigend rubbed his thin beard and looked thoughtful. "Hmm... that's quite a task..." He looked at lord Eodwine and then returned the smile. "It seems Garstan needs to do a lot of teaching..."

Stigend kept his reservations inside. They could possibly bring the rocks to the site even if that would be a feat indeed. But to break and shape them with no oher professionals around but Garstan? And did Garstan master that kind of engineering in the first place? How about the stone foundations already at the place? They were made for a wooden building but a stonehall would require much more solid foundations...

Stigend was about to nod towards the makeshift kitchen for a breakfast when he decided to address one of his concerns aloud.

"But if we are going to use wood from the swamps it would be even more important we get the trees to dry early enough. I understand we need all the strong men to carry the rocks but I hope one day soon after we have enough material for Garstan to start working you would assign me a few stout men to go and fell the trees and carry them here... They can dry while we work here but if they wait there they will not dry by themselves."

[Thinlómien]

"What are we doing today, mum?" Cnebba asked.
"Are we starting the construction work?" Garmund guessed.
"Yes, the contsruction, or at least the carrying of the wood or stone or what they're going to build the hall of will begin today.
"Stone?" Garmund asked, "Are they going to the scar?"
"How could I know?" Modtryth replied, smiling wryly.
"Can we go with them if they go?" Cnebba asked.
"No. The men have more important work than looking after you. Besides, there's plenty of work here at the camp and you're needed."

The boys gave each other a grudging look. "It's settled", Modtryth said firmly. She was not going to make amends. However, she was slightly concerned if the boys were going to do as they were told. Better to keep them busy today.

"Now, off you go, unless you wish to help me with hauling water? But don't go anywhere far, for you might be needed soon." The boys ran away quickly. Modtryth couldn't help smiling.

Her smile faded when she remembered the discussion last night. She had not said to Stigend about projecting his own hopes to the boy. It had not felt appropriate at that time, but now she thought she should have mentioned it. Well, the next time there's talk about it...

She was coming back with the water buckets, when she saw something. Cnebba and Garmund were sneaking after a strange, stocky man - a Wose perhaps? she thought, not amused - who was probably pretending not to notice them. "Cnebba!" she said in warning, ruining the game. The boy glared at her, then turned to the odd man he had been shadowing.

He looked at the odd man's face, a little frightened. Garmund backed one step away at the look of the peculiar face. It was difficult for the boys to say if the man was smiling or angry.

"Hello. I'm Cnebba," Cnebba said in a small voice.
"He is son of Stigend, the carpenter", Garmund added in a serious tone of voice, "I am Garmund, son of Garstan the Stoneshaper. What is your name?"
"And what are you?" Cnebba asked quickly, before the stranger could answer the first question.

[shaggydog]

Oeric lay still under the wool byrchan, eyes closed, yet awake to the early morning call of birds in a nearby hedgerow. Sleep had been long in coming the night before, but had quickly deserted him with the new dawn. The thin veils of his eyelids did little to block out the red light which now slanted over the crest of a small rise in the distance. They did nothing to block the pain which burned within him, hotter than any sunrise. The various wounds of his flesh were healing, some well, some not so well. But he took no notice of these at all. No healer, no herbs or salves could relieve the excrutiating pain he felt though, for it was one of the heart, or perhaps of the soul. Falsely, he pretended that if he remained motionless, still and dead like the stump of a felled tree, the pain would subside and the numbness which sometimes washed over him would take its place. He forced himself to think on the events of the day before, the unexpected and unwelcome arrival of the newcomers. The intruders upon his grief.

But were they really unwelcome? Could they not be, in fact, the unlooked for answer to his inner most plea? Could they not relieve him of his burden forever? Would it not take but one word from his mouth to these ignorant trespassers to lift the yoke of knowledge and responsibility from his shoulders? For surely their leader was a man of some status, a lord or eorl. Yes, one word was all that was required.

To let go forever, though – could that thought be endured? Was not the pain all that was left him now? To lose even that was unthinkable. With a grimace, Oeric opened his eyes wide, letting the bright rays of the sun temporarily blind him, refusing to blink away the tears which sprang up and threatened to spill over. No, he knew he could not let go. Not yet.

Throwing off the blanket, he folded it carefully and stowed it away under the pile of rotting straw. He knew if any knowledgeable tracker had given the ruined byre even a cursory glance, it would be more than evident that someone had been making use of it for shelter. Still, the ghosts of his boyhood held sway and he had decided, even after the events of yesterday, to make use of the tumble down structure until developments might require that he take to sleeping under the stars again.

What those developments were to be, he could only guess for the moment. The new arrivals certainly meant to stay; their activities of the day before made that clear. As for the other one, well, Oeric would simply continue to keep a wary eye on him. Oeric assumed he too would be aware by now of the happenings at the hall. What course that one would pursue though, was unknown to Oeric, neither did he care over much. Their brief encounter a short time ago had been enough to establish that neither one wished to share confidences with the other, and Oeric was content to leave it at that. As for today, he would keep his eyes and ears open and make no hasty decisions of what, if any, steps he would take based on yesterday’s invasion. Whatever this lord’s people would make of the discoveries which lay hidden in the ashes, and which were bound to come to light sooner or later, and whatever action the lord might then take, Oeric knew not whether he would laugh in glee or drown in his own tears whenever such time might come that he should enlighten them.