Scarburg Meadhall

[littlemanpoet]

Crabannan took a risk. He had had plenty of time to think about what to do, and had settled on the only thing that he thought might work. There were two feet between his nose and the edge of the ring. It wasn't much space, but it would have to do. He forced himself up to his hands and knees, pushing all of Harreld's weight upward, still on top of him. The risk with this move was that all Harreld needed to do was push Crabannan forward and that much closer to the edge. On the other hand, Crabannan, if he could take the initiative, could from this position, grab Harreld's arm and roll him out of bounds. He grabbed for Harreld's arm. He missed. Harreld pushed. Crabannan was shoved forward, and across the line. Harreld had won.

A shout and a hollar went up and applause for both wrestlers, for the match had been a grueling one and a good one, between the obviously two best wrestlers in Scarburg, and perhaps in the whole Middle Emnet, or at least so said Eodwine proudly.

Harreld pushed himself to his feet, as did Crabannan. Harreld spoke first, smiling. "Well fought, friend. You are the best I have faced, and I deem it was just as much a matter of luck that you had the worst of it in the end." He held out his hand to Crabannan in an offer of sportsmanship.

[Groin Redbeard]

Lithor, stood watching the wrestelers with crossed arms. He had never seen a match this intense and was glad when Harreld secured his victory less something go wrong: a dislocated shoulder or a broken arm were not all too uncome when the players get carried away.

"A well fought match wouldn't you say Wilcred?" he asked the old soldier.

"Indeed, I have never seen a man who could stand more than eight seconds in the ring with our Harreld, that Crabanna has a few tricks up his sleeve."

"Aye, if I were younger I might take him up on a few pointers to teach me, but I'm afraid that all I'd get out of it is sore limbs and an aching back." The two chuckled and looked at the contestants, who were by now gathered around the two victors (although Harreld had won, Crabanna was held first place for the best effort).

"I'll be back in a minute Wilcred."

"And just where do you think you are going? We need to start setting up for the next contest."

"Oh I'll be back in time to help, no fear about that, but I have a little business to take care of before then." and with that Lithor headed off to find Erbrand.

Erbrand

"What's wrong with you Matrim?" Erbrand asked in an amused voice, "you let Crabannan take you on a whim!"

"Beginners luck, I let him take me down. Besides," Matrim was now addressing Balvir, "it is not as easy as it looks."

"You really should have taken me up on my offer," said Balvir, "that mock of a match between you and Crabannan who have amused the highest court in the land." Balvir laughed loud at his joke, but Matrim followed him insisting that Balvir give it a try as well.

Dan was sitting down not far from the wresteling ring by himself when Erbrand approached him.

"My friend,well done! I must say you had me excited for a couple moments when you nearly tipped Harreld out of the ring. It was nothing more than bad luck that put you against the toughest man in Scarburg, if it were any lesser man I'm sure you would have won."

[littlemanpoet]

Saeryn had had enough rest by the time the wrestling matches were to begin. She, Rowenna, Eodwine, and Degas walked over with Garstan to take in the action.

"Who will win, Degas?" asked Eodwine.

"I know not, though I think Crabannan seems a likely one."

"I will wager my smith to win. Two Eorls against Crabannan."

"Done!" said Degas. Others offered their two Eorls for their own favorite wrestler, and soon there was a tidy little pot which Eodwine, who was reasonably good at numbers, cheerfully rendered into 1st and 2nd place prizes. Most of the wagers centered around Harreld and Crabannan.

"Poor Dan," said Erbrand sadly to Kara after Dan's bout with Harreld, "he never had a chance against that giant Harreld."

Crabannan overheard the comment. "He really didn't. Harreld is simply too big and strong."

"Too big for you?" Erbrand challenged.

"We shall see," Crabannan smirked.

While Harreld and Crabannan rested before their final match, the losers of the previous rounds added their wagers to the pot.

"I wager Crabannan will win!" Garstan declared with a shake of his head. "He is canny!"

"Crabannan may be quick of hand and foot," replied Dan, "but the smith has such strength as to best the quickest! I'll place my wager for the smith!"

"My coin is on Crabannan," said Erbrand. "That man is too shifty and determined to lose."

The match was underway.

"Go Harreld, Go!" cried Thornden. "I hope the smith wins," he said with a grin.

When the final match was done, the all gave the two wrestlers a well deserved round of applause. But then Eodwine frowned. Though he had wagered on Harreld, enough of the others had also, that the winning was a mere two for one, and he got only four Eorls for the two he had placed in the pot.

"At least you won!" Degas cried. "I will have my coin back before this day is done. You are winning too much of my gold so far, Eodwine!"

"You will have your chance, my friend," Eodwine grinned.

Saeryn shook her head to Rowenna. "Men and their wagers," she said. Rowenna laughed.

[Folwren]

Saeryn chuckled, her eyes bright with merriment, and she addressed Degas. “You should stop wagering against Eodwine, Degas,” she said. “He’s won every wager so far this day! And if you keep it up against him, you’ll have no coin with which to manage your affairs back home!”

Degas smiled, but didn’t answer. He probably fully intended to make at least one or two more wagers that day. Saeryn stepped towards him with a question she had wanted to ask before the wrestling had begun.

“Are you really leaving as soon as tomorrow? You only arrived today.”

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Yes, darling," he said, watching the others, and speaking quietly, "I must. I came here to ask Eodwine if he had heard news of you only: I would not have come elsewise. But you are here, and safe, and I am satisfied that you shall remain so, so I mustn't linger. Our people need me rather more than I am needed here."

Saeryn's joke about the depth of Degas's purse stung, though she had not meant it to. But this he kept from her, so as not to quench her merriment. He did not know the state of things at home, and he had little money of his own. There had perhaps been looting. The hold would be tantalizing to thieves and brigands, in a state of disarray and without a lord to lead the people. The very people who overthrew Fenrir may have helped themselves to his coin. Or, as Degas believed, Fenrir had been none too careful with the coins himself in his last days.

Regardless, Degas's faith in the assets of the Folde was weak. The morning would come all too soon, and he would need to speak with Linduial, to inform her of what had transpired, to learn her mind. And then he would need to enter his lands once more, to claim his lordship, and to rebuild both homes and trust.

"Yes," he repeated, "I must leave tomorrow. To wait shall only make my task more difficult. Is there anything you would have me do before I depart?"

[Groin Redbeard]

There was a sudden tapping on his shoulder, and Erbrand turned around to see the beaming Lithor with his empty hand outstretched as to recieve something. Erbrand made a face of dissaproval and dug his hand into his pocket, retrieving his copper which he had won that morning from lord Eodwine. Lithor laughed and closed his hand around his copper as it was placed in his palm.

"I don't usually gamble, Erbrand," he said, "but I am no fool and can see when there is easy money to be made. Your man didn't make it through the first round." he laughed again and shook Erbrand on the shoulder as if the motion would cause him to laugh as well.

'Aye, but he held his own for a little while. Just wait 'till the sword duels, Dan will more than hold his own."

"Sword duels are tricky, even when in sport, and the loss of an ear or finger is not too uncommon. Still, you are right when you say that the Drudian will hold his own, and I daresay that that character Crabannan will show us some more of his tricks when that time comes." They both looked over to where Crabannan was, shaking hands and accepting the congratulations of the entire camp.

"Magnificent outhere, wasn't he?" asked Lithor, his face pointed towards Crabannan but his eyes shifting to glance at Erbrand.

"Yes, I must admit that for awhile I was rooting for him. I can expect a worthy challenge from him later on in the duels."

Lithor shot a worried look over at his friend. He recognized that determined look in his eyes from when he was young. It was a look that had cost him pain and heartache to that day and he eyed Erbrand with an unusually stern expression.

"Be careful what you do, my friend," said Lithor, "pride has hurt and killed more men than hunger and war ever will." Erbrand looked back up at the guard who was by no means amused.

"I can handle myself with him, although he may beat me, he will not harm me. I am stronger and just as quick witted as he is, this should even out the odds against me. Besides, I have something else planned for later tonight, so I shall be extra careful about him. You need not worry about me, Lithor."

"You know your own talents best." Lithor remarked simply and after thanking him went to set up the targets for the archery contest, tossing his coin as he walked.

Erbrand looked around him. Everyone seemed to be busy with something, Degas was talking quietly to his his sister Saeryn and Eodwine was chatting with some other people, probably trying to pursuade them to accept his gamble in another game, but Erbrand could not tell what they were saying, and he walked briskly back to camp for his bow.

[Gwathagor]

Crabannan sat in the dirt and squinted up ruefully at Harreld.

"Luck. Yes, it would be luck. She never did look fondly on me."

He stood up covered in dust and cracked his back. Then he took Harreld's hand.

"Harreld Smith," he said, chuckling slightly, "I think you are more gentle with your smithwork. If my arm falls off during the next game, I am blaming you, and I'll expect you to make me an iron hook, or something, to replace it."

He gave Harreld's hand a final squeeze, and then began to brush himself off. Great clouds of dust surrounded him for a moment, and when they cleared, he found that he and Harreld were surrounded by a clamoring, congratulatory crowd, all eager to shake the two wrestlers' hands.