Scarburg Meadhall

[littlemanpoet]

The old man having gotten more than a scrap of meat from the unusually quiet cook, he wandered off toward the source of all the commotion he had heard from the road.

It was a quarterstaff fight. The crowd was cheering and seemed to be mostly relaxed, which meant that it was apparently all in fun. Well enough.

He could not tell which of them was the lord of the settlement by his clothing, and so made his way to just he outside of the crowd, where there were four chairs placed, two young women sitting there, speaking quietly to each other. Just as he was about to clear his throat and speak, they jumped up and hurried toward the games.

The old man shrugged with a grin and a twinkle in his eye, and made his way to the outside of the crowd, to see what he could see. So far, none had taken notice of him. He watched and waited.

[Nogrod]

“Please people, please!" Wilcred tried to cool the roaring crowd for he had some announcing to do. But all the people seemed to know already what he was going to announce and it seemed futile to fight against it. But he still tried. "Let me give you the second runners up! Let me give you Harreld and Erbrand against Thornden and lord Eodwine!”

The crowd burst into cheers - if they hadn't already - as the competants walked into the flagged area. Thornden and Eodwine exchanged still a few final words when Harreld and Erbrand were clearly already focusing on the fight.

“Go! … Ah, sorry…”, with that Wilcred blew the horn. It was the go. He was clearly not up to the task.

It looked like Erbrand was really yearning to go for Thornden but the two soldiers had clearly decided the other way. Erbrand ran for Thornden but Eodwine stepped between the two keeping himself between them even if Erbrand tried to counter his moves. Meanwhile Thornden made it from behind Eodwine to attack Harreld.

Harreld had looked at the peculiar dance and decided to make his move. Looking at the determination with which lord Eodwine covered Thornden from an attack by Erbrand he decided to make one himself. With a tremendous roar he went on after Thornden dealing a blow that would have stunned a wild boar but Thornden ducked the hit and turning around faster Harreld could imagine he managed to deal a blow to Harreld’s back sending him stumbling forwards.

“One hit against Harreld!”, Wilcred called and the people applauded.

Meanwhile Erbrand had settled with the facts and started seriously engaging Eodwine in a fight no longer searching for routes to get after Thornden. Erbrand proved to be a valiant staff-wielder as Eodwine only hardly managed to duck the shots aimed at him – and he dealt nicely with Eodwine’s counter moves. It looked like an even match between the two; lord Eodwine being clearly the technical master and tactician but the younger leatherman was quick and agile, able to parry and energetic enough to make lord Eodwine stay on alert all the time.

Suddenly the crowd went “Uuuuhhh!” And there was a reason for it. For while Harreld was going down he managed somehow to turn himself around while speeding his way down and to use the momentum of his body turning around to give a wild blow against Thornden. But Thornden was no newcomer in these fights and saw it early enough to just drop on his knees. The sweep of Harreld’s staff missed Thornden’s head and just blew his hair as he ducked down. That was close indeed. Harreld had clearly aimed at Thornden’s torso but his sudden evasive action had made it dangerous. But there was no harm done.

“No harm intended! Fair game!”, Wilcred called to underline the point. “But be careful out there!”

On his knees Thornden landed a blow to Harreld’s back leaving him face to the ground stunned for a moment. Panting Thornden stood up and pointed the tip of his staff on Harreld’s neck. “Call!”

“Harreld called out!” Wilcred confirmed. There were loud cheers of relievement.

Thornden turned to look at lord Eodwine fighting Erbrand. It looked like an even match. Slowly he crept towards the fighting duo. It somehow felt wrong to just hit Erbrand from behind. Thornden hesitated.

Suddenly Eodwine halted. Erbrand halted as well.

“You wish to continue Thornden? I’m quite old for going on too long this good a fight…” Eodwine addressed Thornden over Erbrand’s shoulder and smiled to his second in command. “With your leave, my lord…”, Erbrand needed no more encouragement but had manners enough to bow quickly to lord Eodwine before he went to Thornden. And the two were on each other.

If lord Eodwine’s and Thornden’s fight had been a good one, the one between Thornden and Erbrand really was one. The audience felt there were real energy and a battle of wills going on as well. Everyone was looking on and living with every blow given and parried. And they both really gave the audience the best they could.

Erbrand found new energy and performed some great improvised combo’s of attacks on Thornden but the experienced soldier parried the attacks if not with ease then with some confidence anyway. But Erbrand really pushed the limits and soon Thornden realised this was not something he could manage half-hearted. Erbrand was challenging him and he did it most fervently. Thornden had to fight this for real too.

The crowd went “Uuhhs!” and “oohhss!” all the time as the two dealt blows and parried one’s dealt by the other one. Lord Eodwine stood still, watching the fight with the crowd but just a few feet away.

Finally, after the most aggressive attacking maneuvers by Erbrand Thornden got the upper hand from a most unlikely situation. Being sent to his knees and only parrying from behind – just sweeping the staff blindly towards Erbrand – Thornden managed to unbalance Erbrand. And before anyone could realise he had turned himself around and made a full blow to Erbrand’s knees sending him falling. Before Erbrand had time to adjust himself to the new situation he felt a tip of a staff on his neck.

“Call!”

It was lord Eodwine who called the match, the tip of his staff on Erbrand’s throat now as Erbrand had turned around while lying on the grass.

“Lord Eodwine and master Thornden will go to the finals!” Wilcred announced. The crowd cheered even louder than before. As if they hadn't already shouted their throats sore for the games...

[Nogrod]

Stigend saw the old man emerging from the kitchen-tent from the corner of his eye while waiting for the second semifinal of the quarterstaff-fight to begin. He poked Garstan to the shoulder.

"Now who's that?" he whispered pointing the old man to Garstan as he turned to look at him.

"I dunno... Never seem him before... or... hmm... No. No I don't know him." Garstan replied after giving it some thought.

"Should we go and ask?" Stigend suggested.

"Yeah, we should, but the match is starting and I want to see how Harreld fares. Maybe we ask after the fight, or maybe lord Eodwine will do it himself... or Thornden? It's not our business anyway." Garstan replied and turned towards the arena. "Go Harreld, go!" he yelled and many joined the call for Harreld.

But Stigend thought about it differently. Lord Eodwine had asked him to be in charge of the Mead Hall with Thornden as he was away soon and he felt he needed to try the boots of someone who was in charge - and both lord Eodwine and Thornden were ready to begin their fight right now. So he had to go and find that old man out.

"See you..." Stigend said and slipped away.

The old man was closing on Rowenna and Saeryn and Stigend's heart-rate was going up. He had no idea where it came from but suddenly he was very concerned about their safety. Suddenly Rowenna and Saryn stood up and hurried to see the match and the old man was left alone.

Stigend approached the man.

"Hello there sir! I'm Stigend, the carpenter... uhh... the the leading constructor of this place... Now who might you be, dear sir?"

[littlemanpoet]

A man approached him.

"Hello there sir! I'm Stigend, the carpenter... uhh... the the leading constructor of this place... Now who might you be, dear sir?"

"I am a simple wayfarer, passing through, seeking food and a roof over my head - or at least a tent if you have no more - and offering my wares in trade."

The old man held his staff in one hand and nothing in the other, showing no signs of whatever trade he meant, but this was done on purpose. He would see how this man and these folk would react.

[Nogrod]

Stigend was raised well and he knew to honour elders whoever they might be but now he was just baffled with the gamling in front of him. Was he trying to make a fool of him or was he serious? What wares in trade he meant as he clearly had none?

"Excuse me sir, but I see little you have to offer as to banter like that. We have plenty to offer for wayfarers - and just quess how many we've got in here on these few weeks we've been here - but you do act like you were in for more than meets the eye. But why should I believe you? Aren't you just a stranger trying to gain from people trusting others?". Stigend eyed the elderly man with keen eyes but he seemed to stay as stern as he was and Stigend was already regretting his words; thus keen was the stare of the stranger in front of him.

"I mean what is your trade sir?"

There was a tremendous roar by the people when Thornden and lord Eodwine won the match.

"I do not wish to be rude but please sir, you can't count on me taking in whatever you wish without being a bit more explicit. And it seems our lord Eodwine is free for a moment so maybe we should just go to him?"

Stigend looked at the newcomer with a questioning look. "That suits you, right?"

[Thinlómien]

Modtryth finished her story the same time she finished chopping the rolls. She looked around in the kitchen and saw that one of the water barrells was almost empty. "I'll fetch some water from the well," she said. Frodides nodded and continued working on the foods.

When Modtryth stepped out of the kitchen tent, she could see Lèoðern playing with her bug outside.
"Hello there, Lèoðern. Are you sure you wouldn't like to go and see the quarterstaff fights?"

The girl gave her a quick glance, then shook her head quickly. Modtryth suspected the girl was a little afraid of all the noise and the aggression.

"You don't have to, of course. How is Master Bug?"

Lèoðern looked at her, slight criticism in her eyes. "It's a she. It is Princess Bug."

Modtryth could not help smiling. "Beg your pardon. I hope Her Highness will then excuse me for I am to fetch water now."
Lèoðern exchanged glkances with the bug. "You may go. She excuses you."

As Modtryth approached the well, she could hear shouting from the fighting grounds. She did not have to listen for long before she found out it was Lithor and Belvir and Dan and Crabannan that were fighting. She shrugged. Truth be told, she liked little any of the men - Balvir, she guessed, was a good man though, but rather too serious - and secretly hoped they would bruise some more sense into each other.

The water in the well was sufficiently cold, Modtryth discovered, when she splashed it on herself - such silly carelessness. It amused her mostly, though, and she hurried back to the kitchen. When she reached the kitchen tent, she saw an odd hooded man leaving with a plate full of food.

"Who was that?" she asked as she stepped in. She looked out again. "And where's Lèoðern? Surely not watching the fights?"
"The girl must have run off somewhere, she was there just a while ago. You know, children are like that..."
"Yes, and she would not run away anywhere too far, but I'd still be happier if I knew where she was. But who was that stranger?"
"The stranger?"
"The man you just gave food to."
"Oh I thought it was... wait, I don't know who it was." Frodides furrowed her brow.
Modtryth inclined her head. She wondered why was Frodides being so uncharacteristically inattentive. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

[Groin Redbeard]

The eorl shouldn't have called it! This was my fight! The match had been going the way he wanted it, eventually one of them would slip and make a mistake, like he just did, and though Thornden's superior skill showed in the way he fought it would have been better for him to rain a dozen blows down on him than to have the match end to pitifully.

Thornden seemed pleased that he had at least won the fight and offered his congratulations on a good fight; Thornden's hand was offered to him who still lay on the ground. Erbrand instinctively reached to accept the help, but hesitated when he saw Thornden looking down at him. It reminded him of what would be thought of him now that the fight was lost, perfection might be sought for in craftsmanship but fighting was something different, yet Erbrand still couldn't come to the fact that he had lost. Ignoring the help, Erbrand lifted himself to his feet.

"You bested me today Thornden," Erbrand whispered, "but that doesn't mean that this is over."

He searched the scar with his eyes trying to find Kara but there was no trace of her. The thought of joining Kara was driven from his mind by a sense of loss, he needed to be alone for the moment, away from Thornden, away from women, just somewhere that he could be by himself and brood over his wounded pride. He had recognized the look in Thornden's eyes when he made contact with Kara's that first time: it was want of something that was not his, and Erbrand hadn't stopped him. He walked aimlessly across the scar and back into camp. There would be a next fight someday, it might be awhile but it would come. Next time he would not lose.