Scarburg Meadhall

[littlemanpoet]

Léof had given his assent to rummaging through the ruins for makeshift fenceposts, and so the three of them, including Thornden, were busy at it. It was hard, sweaty work, for most of the time such wood was found beneath and behind other more ruinous items such as downed walls, ruined furniture, and the like.

The stables, which had been situated on the western side of the old hall, were worthless, a heap of burnt wood good for nothing but kindling for bonfires. They had greatest success on the east end where there was an upstairs crashed down upon the lower level; it was this lower level that offered the least ruinous scraps of fencepost. After more than an hour of hard, sweaty work, they decided that they had found enough of what they were looking for, and hauled their findings back toward the paddock.

They were met by an urgent and pale Rowenna. "Lord, I have something to tell you that cannot wait."

Eodwine's brow rose. "Is someone in danger?"

"Nay, no longer, though someone was indeed but had the worst of it. I found a dead body of a man in one of the sheds."

"Is every man among us accounted for?" asked Eodwine, looking around.

"This man has been there since before we arrived, I am sure, lord," Rowenna answered.

"Léof, Thornden, I think we have earned ourselves a break. Let us see this."

The three men dropped their wood in a pile and followed Rowenna back to the shed, and Rowenna opened the door wide. They peered in and found it just as she had said. After observing, with nose plugged and eyes watering, Eodwine shook his head and ruminated that they had spent an entire day and more in the place with a half eaten dead body of a man waiting in a meat curing shed. It was unthinkable except that it was so. He wished mightily that it was not.

"Well, what do you think we should do about it?" Eodwine looked around the small group. "Bury it? Burn the thing and its innard to ashes? Or," he grimaced, "I have heard tall tales that the Haradrim have been known to 'examine' such bodies for signs of how and why they died." Eodwine had smirked at his use of the foreign word.

[Firefoot]

It had been with some trepidation that Léof followed Rowenna to the shed, torn as he was between curiosity and trepidation. A brief glance, a passing whiff told him all he wanted or needed to know. Something had to be done with it (he could not think of the body as a “him”), and his first wish was that they might simply burn the entire shed with the body inside of it – but wood was too valuable, it seemed, for such a wasteful process.

Eodwine’s suggestions were far more plausible, until he mentioned the Haradrim practice. “Lord, surely not!” Léof cried out at this. He would be hard pressed to tell which was fouler, the sight or the smell of the corpse, but ‘examining’ the body as Eodwine put it defied his imagining. The thought of touching the body even enough to bury it revolted him. “Let the dead lie in peace!” Then he faltered. “Unless – you really think it might tell us something?” Of course foul play had been involved. People did not just lay down and die in abandoned sheds. “But – would any know what to look for? And who could stand the smell long enough to look? Lord – let the dead lie. Can the way he died truly be important?”

[Folwren]

Thornden stood by with almost as much disgust as Léof. Eodwine’s suggestion seemed to disturb Léof a great deal and in any other circumstances, Thornden would have grinned at his reaction.

“I think Léof may be right, although my reason for thinking so is not because of the smell. Even if we were to try to tell how he had died, what would we look for? And if we found anything more than what we already know (namely, that he was killed by someone and hidden here) what good would it do us? What could we do? We couldn’t find out who did it.

“I say we bury it and have nothing more to do with it.”

[littlemanpoet]

"Rowenna? Have you any thoughts on the matter?"

"Bury it or burn it," she said simply.

Eodwine shrugged. We can use the wood, if it is not ruined by the foulness of the corpse, so we will not burn it. Bury it we shall." But Eodwine wondered what they would find. "We will bury it up in the scar, away from our settlement. Before we begin, we will be wanting cloths for our faces and coverings for our hands. Maybe Harreld or someone has a board of good length we could lay the body on so that we need not touch it without need. Rowenna, go see Harreld and have him come too."

"Aye, lord." Rowenna hurried off while the three men stood upwind of the shed, waiting in rather keen discomfort for the task that lay ahead.

[Groin Redbeard]

Jokes and laughs were exchanged during the last length of the trip. The Sun had begun to set and filled the sky with a dark yellow light that cast shadows everywhere. Erbrand could hear the crickets in the grass and the birds flying home to their nests, it seemed as if all of nature was slowly shutting down for the night. They had left the clumps of trees far behind them and walked their horses through the familiar tall grassy plain that would lead them to Scarburg.

The company slowly quieted down as they started to climb up a hill, Balvir said that they would be able to see the camp from there. Erbrand's horse, Traveler, struggled with every step up the gradual slope; it pained him to see his horse struggle so hard, but there was nothing he could do, all he could do was try to get the horse to move faster. When they reached the top of the hill they scanned the horizon, Lithor was the first to spot it and he yelled and pointed towards the south.

"There it is, can you see it," he said, "We're home at last, there's the camp!"

The others could barely spot the camp, it was about two miles south with a short trail of smoke trailing up into the sky.

"You have got keen eyes Lithor," said Matrim, "I imagine that supper is being prepared."

Erbrand smiled at the sight as he helped Traveler up the hill, but then something else caught his eye. As he turned to checked the deer strung across Traveler's back something caught his eye, a large group of men and women stood on a bluff around a thousand feet behind them. Erbrand's eyes widened with alarm, there were around fifteen men and women with a wagon and three horses standing and just staring at them. He hastily grabbed for his axe, in his saddlebag.

"Balvir, we've got company." Balvir turned, looking a bit confused at Erbrand's shaky voice. When he saw the peasants strung out in a line on the bluff, his eyes widened. Matrim and Lithor grabbed for their bows, but Balvir raised his hand in a silent command of silence, they both stopped.

"What are they?" Erbrand said in a half whisper to Balvir.

We know what they are," Lithor said angrily, "The same people who burnt the Scarburg Meadhall!" he moved forward as if he was going to charge the peasants single handely, Matrim stopped him.

Balvir stood silent for a while longer, both of the companies just stared at each other for a long while. "You may be right, Lithor," Balvir said calmly, not taking his eyes off of the peasants, "but it's best that we don't start a fight without your lord Eodwine's approval. They're probably Nomads, or peasants on an errand" he pointed at the wagon and horses, "The people of the East Emnet are a scattered people, it would be best if we made ourselves known to them and of our intentions." Erbrand tried to see if the peasants had any weapons with them, but he couldn't tell from this distance. The idea of walking towards an unknown group of people that are a potential enemy of theirs was not a comforting idea to him.

"Lithor," said Balvir, "You will stay here with the horses, if anything goes wrong you ride back to the camp and get Thornden and his men." Lithor didn't say a word, he just nodded and looked down at the ground, Erbrand knew that the horseman did not like being left out of the picture. "You two will come with me," said Balvir, "Let's get it over with." Balvir stepped forward, followed closely by Matrim and Erbrand. Matrim was fingering a longsword strapped to his side, and Erbrand nervously grasped his axe, Balvir was unarmed as far as he could see.

When the group was halfway to the peasants they stopped and waited to see if they would make a move. There was a uncomfortable moments of silence, the peasants stood like statues in the sunset. Suddenly someone yelled and the peasants sprang to life. Erbrand raised his axe in readiness and expected a shower of arrows to come down on them at any moment, but it was something different entirely. The peasants disappeared behind the bluff and left.

"What was that all about?" Matrim said in disgust.

"They're not ready yet," said Balvir.

Erbrand looked uneasily from side to side. "I'm not sure I like the idea of lingering here much longer," he said, "this might not be the last of them."

The three of them ran back up the hill to the horses where Lithor was waiting. Without a word being spoken they each grabbed their horses reins and urged them on with all possible speed.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna came up to Harreld's makeshift smithy and found Ginna sitting across from him, pumping the bellows as Harreld worked on kitchen utensils. Rowenna kept a straight face but smirked inwardly. The girl can't stay away from him, she said to herself. The two were not speaking much. They both had their eyes glued on the work Harreld was doing. owenna stopped a couple of paces off.

"Sorry to stop your work Harreld," she said, glancing briefly at Ginna as well, "but we have found a dead body in one of the sheds and Lord Eodwine wants you to help with the burial."

Harreld mutely put down his tools and stood, stretching his back and legs. Ginna's face registered her alarm at Rowenna's news. She sat there, apparently wondering what to do.

"Ginna, could you send word to Garstan and the others while I help with the body?"

Ginna seemed relieved at not having to go see the dead body, and left without complaint, although maybe there was some reluctance to leave Harreld. It was hard to read her, or him just this moment. Rowenna led Harreld to the shed.

[Thinlómien]

Cnebba – late morning

“We’re back. Sorry it took so long,” Javan said. Cnebba glared at him. He was spoiling this.

Garstan’s eyes travelled from Javan’s bruises to those of his own son, and then to Cnebba’s nose which had started bleeding again.
“And what exactly was it that took you this long?”

Garstan hardly ever scared Cnebba, he was like a kind uncle to him, but now the stoneshaper looked quite stern. Cnebba shrunk smaller, hoping Garstan would not look at him.

Garmund’s face was a little pale, but his eyes were defiant. “We fought.”
“With an orc,” Cnebba added. Garmund scowled at him. Cnebba took a step back. He could not understand why Garmund was angry with him.
“Garmund and Cnebba attacked me”, Javan said.

“You did? Garmund, I’m disappointed with you. Cnebba, I’m sure your father is not very proud either. And Javan, you’re old enough to know better to no to continue a fight.” Garstan was shaking his head. Cnebba didn’t think he was very angry after all. Maybe they would now forget it all.

“Cnebba, you rascal, stop grinning,” Garstan said. He himself was grinning, though, but his eyes were serious. “Don’t expect to get out of this so easily. I want to speak with your parents with this, and with Javan’s brother. Who knows if we should even consult Lord Eodwine.” Cnebba and Garmund cast a look at each other. Surely not Lord Eodwine?

“Anyway, I won’t tolerate behaviour like that and nor will anyone else in this Hall. Here we’re all friends.” Garstan was scratching his head. It occurred to Cnebba that the stoneshaper maybe didn’t know what to say. “Now boys, stop glaring at me. We’ll bury this topic until the evening. We have work to do and it already has been delayed because of you.” The three boys nodded, more or less obediently. “Cnebba and Javan, fetch those poles over there. Garmund, you will help with this rope here.”


Modtryth – a few hours later

Saeryn was still asleep. She had slept lightly, face creased with tension. Modtryth had sat by her side and talked to her like to a child or a sick horse when she had half-woken up, terror in her eyes. Eventually her sleep had eased and now she was sleeping seemingly calmly. The healer Aedhel was with her now. She had told Modtryth that Saeryn’s physical wounds were not bad and most of her weakness was caused by exhaustion and distress. She had also said, more quietly, that there was the danger that Saeryn’s wounds would get infected and she could develop a dangerous fever.

Modtryth tried to ward off those thoughts. It was pointless to worry before anything had happened. She headed to the kitchen, both to see what was happening and ask if the children had been seen. On her way she met Garstan. The stoneshaper looked a little worried. “What is it?” Modtryth asked. “The boys. Garmund and Cnebba fought with Javan today. Fought to the point of a fist fight.” Modtryth’s eyes narrowed. There was a certain young man whom she’d have a word with. “I of course scolded them. I also told them we’d have a proper discussion in the evening, you and Stigend, I, Thornden and the boys themselves.” Modtryth nodded. That made sense. “We’ll see to it when the day’s work is done, then. Where are they now?” “They’re helping me with the tents. They’re all doing good work.” Modtryth smiled thinly and nodded. “Till later, then.”

After exchanging words with Garstan, Modtryth decided to go to the kitchen as she had planned. Cnebba was in good hands for now. Modtryth was curious to hear the latest gossip and see how little Leothern was faring before returning back to Saeryn.