Scarburg Meadhall

[Folwren]

Thornden was right. Saeryn allowed him to speak while she sat by silently. She had wanted to paint an overly good picture of the people, but Thornden showed a more realistic side. He did not exaggerate. What both she and he had found startling and otherwise unacceptable in their minds at the meeting here, everyone else would be dissatisfied with, too.

She was growing tired of this. Athanar had expressed a desire to talk, so that they could decide how best to run Scarburg, but all it seemed that he did was tell them how he was going to run it.

“You must understand, and indeed it shall be our burden to make known to the people, that we of Edoras often have a different conception of what exactly that good is. Yet trust that we do not change things for the sake of change alone, nor that we change things without any discussion before hand.”

Why must anything change? When things are smooth among a set of people, when quarrels are seldom, and everyone works together like a well oiled machine, what could possibly be better? Did they really think that they were sent here to make order among the people? They were only here as figureheads, so that the other ignorant landlords would honor them and pay their dues.

It was pointless to say any such thing. She looked politely towards Wynflaed as she addressed her.

“My lady Saeryn, I hope, when my family and I are more settled, and matters press in on all of us less closely, that we may arrange some sort of private meeting concerning the domestic ordering of the Hall. I do not wish to court the disfavor of the people through letting them think I am naught more than a usurper.”

Domestic ordering of the hall, indeed! What do you plan on changing? We do not live in filth and stench – the place is kept clean, I have no complaints – and our meals come on time. What more do you really expect from the girls?

Saeryn inclined her head slightly, smiled a little, and said out loud, “Of course. I will be ready whenever it is your convenience.”

[Groin Redbeard]

“I can answer your question,” Lithor said stepping forward with a bright smile. Time for him to work some magic, to turn a possible disaster into a opportunity.

“It was but two minutes ago when my friend and I where admiring the magnanimous gifts presented to us by the gracious Athanar that we heard a commotion here. I came to inspect the situations, as is my duty as a guard in Eodwine’s house and found that two of our soldiers were quarreling.” Lithor felt that it was necessary to emphasize the word our. He didn’t want Hilderinc to feel as if this was an incident worth reporting to Athanar, who had only just arrived.

“I inquired as to the nature of their quarrel. In short, it appears that that young man there,” Lithor pointed to Áforglæd, “had given my lady such an insult as to make my ears burn. The lad was sorry, however, that he had spoken hastily in insult, but equally as hasty was my friend to uphold the honor of our lady Saeryn! I was unable to pull our two men apart, but thankfully Harreld and Crabanna here intervened. Both brawlers were hasty and wrong was done on both sides, but I pray that you not punish either of them. My friend has defended my lady’s honor and your friend has taught his lesson.”

Hilderinc glanced at Áforglæd and then scanned the surrounding people. “Where is your man?”

“Gone, I’m afraid. That was my doing. I think that it is better to let things settle before he shows himself. Besides, he won’t be hard to find, he’ll be the only one with bruises.” Lithor laughed and searched the man’s eyes—hollow and emotionless.

“He won’t have any reason to hide, will he?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Erbrand

Thank goodness, this wasn’t a grouchy, old, “experienced” (which Erbrand often figured to be a polite way of excusing arrogance) soldier. The man seemed quite genteel, very nice in the way he answered Erbrand’s question. So the counsel is going well then. The people of Scarburg are in good standings with the newcomers! The man introduced himself as Coenred, Athanar’s servant no less—the man with inside knowledge of all his lord’s doings!

“Coenred,” Erbrand let the word roll of his tongue and swirl around in his mind for moment. “My name is Erbrand,” he responded, there was no prestigious epithet that he could give to himself that would impress or interest this person.

“The counsel is going well then, that is good news indeed. Everybody seems on edge right now, it is good to hear that some people are getting along.” Erbrand laughed nervously. Coenred just smiled.

“I am sorry for stopping you like that, I thought you were… well, someone else—a friend.” Erbrand immediately regretted saying that. Idiot! “Someone else?” “a friend?” Stupid, your making this man feel unwelcome and you are looking like the simpleton you are. Make it up to him, show him courtesy.

“Don’t let me stop you from what you were going to do. Perhaps I can help?”

“No thank you, I can take care of it.” Coenred replied courteously.

“Oh but I insist!” Actually Erbrand was in no place to be insisting anything. Coenrad was an influential man and Erbrand was a mere peasant.

Coenred’s response was cut short by loud thuds on the grass behind Erbrand. The noise surprised Erbrand and he spun around quickly to see what had happened. Trunks, lots of heavy trunks were being piled (none too carefully I might add) next to the Meadhall. It suddenly occurred to Erbrand who all these people really were. They were not newcomers as he or Harreld or Rowenna or Dan had been. Their lifestyles were strange from the rustic country folk of Scarburg and their mindsets were equally as different.

It occurred to Erbrand that the majority of the newcomers were city folk, not at all the type that Erbrand liked. He had been a city man not long ago in Aldburg, a large city by Rohan standards yet out far enough to have its rustic qualities. However, that lifestyle was not to his liking at all and while his life at Scarburg had been rough and downright dangerous, he would not trade it for the city life. However, these people were from Edoras, the cushion pillow of Rohan society. To Erbrand, city folk meant soft, soft meant weak, and weak meant death out here in the wilderness, especially with winter coming on. Even the soldiers who this Athanar brought with him looked less hardy than Eodwine’s guards.

Athanar! Erbrand thought with horror of what man this new lord might turn out to be. This lord Athanar is from the city, what does he know of the rough living in the Middle Emnet? I bet he’s one of those cavalier type of Rohirrim that fought in the great war. The type that did valuable service to King Theoden (may he rest in peace) and asked for an earldom: something that he knows nothing about, at least out here. What happened to the type of service that the antique world taught? When service sweat for duty and not for reward. I am young, but I am not for these times when none will sweat, save for promotion and having that, do choke their service up with more ambition. If Athanar be such a man, I will not swear allegiance to him! Lord Eodwine was kind to me, he earned my trust and lady Saeryn earned it by becoming his wife. Athanar will have to earn my love and trust just as Eodwine did, but he will never have it completely.


Erband looked back, Coenred was looking at him in a peculiar manner. At least this one wasn’t all that bad. “Still at your service, sir,” Erbrand said wiping the scowl off his face. Despite his thoughts of these new people, Erbrand liked Coenred (as far as first impressions go).

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

"He won’t have any reason to hide, will he?"

Hilderinc frowned. "You tell me. I assume you should know better than me, if you have witnessed these events, and if he is, as you say, your friend." He could not help but to feel a strong stab of aversion to this man at first sight. A soldier, clearly, but honey-tongued in a rather repulsive way. Hilderinc did not like men like this, who tried to buy others' goodwill by speaking in such manner. "My friend and I where admiring the magnanimous gifts presented to us by the gracious Athanar", indeed! Such an obvious sweet-talk, trying to win Athanar's men's sympathy. No way are you going to lull me like that, you serpent. I can see right through you, Hilderinc thought. He also noticed how this man had used the expression "our soldiers". Fairness and just approach towards different people is one thing, but obvious sweettalk is another, and it is not worth a proper soldier. When Hilderinc came, he did not have any intention to pursue the matter of the fight, if it could have been avoided. He did not want to contribute to creating any ruptures among the natives and Athanar's men – from his experience, he knew well that some awkwardness would be present at least during the first days, before the people get used to each other - but the way this soldier seemed to attempt to win his goodwill set him alert. Was his friend really so "innocent"?

Hilderinc, however, did not let any of his inner thoughts show in his face. Let's hear Áforglæd's version, then. He turned to the bruised soldier.

"What can you tell me about this, Áforglæd? Is this man speaking the truth?"

The soldier reluctantly moved his head in affirmation.

Hilderinc also nodded. Well, it seemed at least that this was how the matter went. It was true that the other man attacked Áforglæd first, but Hilderinc could very well imagine what kind of remark might have caused that.

"You know that I should report you to Coenred," he addressed the soldier. "However, if you are going to watch yourself, there is no need to do that. But be assured that if something like that was to happen again, there'll be no avoiding the punishment. If the matter is settled," he turned again to the Scarburgian who spoke before, to see an affirmative reaction, "go and take care of lord Athanar and lady Wynflæd's mounts," he pointed at the animals standing peacefully nearby.

"And then you can think of improving your looks before meal, so that the local kitchen ladies don't fly from you. We seem to be almost done," he added, looking over his shoulder to the rest of the soldiers.

As Áforglæd walked away, Hilderinc turned once again to the Scarburgian who had spoken before.

"What was your name?"

"Lithor."

"Well, thank you for your help," Hilderinc said, but maintained a straight face, to make sure that he won't give the sweet-tongued soldier any false hopes. This was a well-settled matter, but if the man aimed to ingratiate himself with Hilderinc, he picked the wrong person.

[Thinlómien]

Wulfric & Wilheard

Wilheard was rapping the table impatiently. He never felt comfortable indoors for long times, and meetings like this were a pain to him. All the pompous, boring words meaning nothing, his parents' typical lordly waffling and Wulfric looking as self-important as if the King himself had appointed him to clean his shoes of horse dung.

He could not understand why he had been summoned to this meeting. There could be nothing he could contribute to the discussion and nothing he could do, for Mother had told him to hold his tongue and just be quiet and observe so many times that it had really gotten on his nerves and he had had to promise to do so. He had no idea what this pathetic cow-like soldier and the whining - although quite pretty - young babe could give them. He envied Coenred who had been freed from the torment.

He tried to amuse himself by imagining taking a wild ride to the Scar to see the surroundings properly. Unconsciously, he started rapping the table more quickly and loudly to mimick the gallop of his horse.

"Stop that," Wulfric whispered and shoved him with an elbow. Wilheard threw his elder brother a murderous glance.

Wulfric rolled his eyes. He could not understand why Wilheard could not behave. This meeting was boring - that he could wholeheartedly agree on - but they would have time to have fun later. Now they should concentrate on showing the order of things to these peasants. He himself did his best by sitting very stiffly and looking at them as menacingly as he could. He was quite sure he was an authoritarian figure with his broad shoulders and commanding eyes.

The women were talking now about some feminine arrangements. This was surely not important, so Wulfric concentrated studying the features of Lord Eodwine's second-in-comand, Thornden. The man was maybe a few years older than Wulfric himself and had a warrior's aura. Wulfric was yearning to know if he'd beat this peasant on the battlefield.

The man was taller than Wulfric, but not any broader. He would have a few years more experince in the arts of war, but on the other hand, he had surely not had the best teachers and tutors Edoras could offer, unlike Athanar's sons. Wulfric's biggest fault as a fighter - or so had his teachers told him - was underestimating his opponent, so he reminded himself not to make quick judgements, but he just couldn't see himself losing to this peasant. He grinned to himself. He would love to have that fight.

He glanced at his father, rather meaningfully this time. Surely it was time to end this meeting if nothing more important than women's chores remained to be negotiated. Besides, he had to agree with his agonised-looking little brother: this was getting incredibly boring.

~*~

Modtryth

"Now, tell me everything." Frodides's tone was rather authoritarian, and Kara's bright eyes were full of curiousity although she smiled cheerfully at the older woman being so characteristically herself.

Ginna glanced at Modtryth and the dark woman sighed. "Well then, I'll tell you I guess. But what's there to know? You saw them yourselves, I don't have much to add."

Frodides looked as if she was about to protest, and Modtryth, suppressing a laugh, continued before any exclamation was uttered. "Both the lord and his wife seem courteus yet firm inside. I hope they're not going to be any trouble." The women exchanged worried glances.

"I think they were alright," Ginna said soothingly.
Modtryth nodded. "I agree. I'm not so sure about the sons though. They seem a bit too rash and full of themselves to be utterly harmless."
Frodides waved her hand dismissively. "Any kind of idiocy can be whipped out of a child."
Modtryth gave the old cook a slight smile. She knew her well enough to know what exactly she meant. But she was troubled still - it might be that Cnebba or Garmund or Javan would start behaving after a gentle slap, but these two were grown up men. "And the idiocy can only be whipped out if the parents are willing to use the whip..." she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else.

"Did anyone manage to have a look at any of the other new arrivals?" Kara asked after a short and uncomfortable silence.
Modtryth and Ginna shook their heads.
"Well, off you go scouting then!" Frodides said. "Although I wouldn't mind if one of you helped me and Kara with the dinner, it has to be extraordinarily well done today, and there's more to do than normally."
"I'll stay - shall I fetch water?" Ginna asked quickly. She grinned at Modtryth mischeviously.
Modtryth smiled ruefully.
"Coming back with a detailed report, sir," she said in a mock soldier-like manner, bowed stiffly to Frodides and hurried away to have a look at the newcomers with the excuse of helping them unload and arrange stuff.

~*~

Cnebba

"Hey, you two, come give a helping hand!"

Cnebba and Garmund glanced at each other desperately, but they knew there was no way to run away unnoticed. So they nodded sheepishly and walked to Raedwald.

"There seem to be some stuff there. The woman who was organising things around said they should be carried to the main building."

Cnebba and Garmund repeated their sheepish gestures and walked over the wagon. They took a pile of relatively small, neatly packed packages and started walking towards the main building.

Soon Cnebba started having problems. The package he was carrying seemed to be of a difficult shape. "Which way is this supposed to be carried?" he grumbled and shifted, managing to drop a small and elegantly carved wooden comb from the package.

"Oops," he muttered.

[Nogrod]

“Of course. I will be ready whenever it is your convenience.”

After Saeryn's words there was an awkward silence as all present - not probably counting the two sons of Athanar - saw the bitterness in them.

"Well... Shall we call it a day then?" lord Athanar asked matter-of-factly trying to hide the storm inside him. "I think this was a good meeting and I have learned a lot."

Turning towards Thornden he continued: "Good Thornden, I do appreciate what you told me and I respect your frank openness. I do trust you and will pay heed to your advice."

Moving her eyes to lady Saeryn he added: "And lady Saeryn, you're clearly under an emotional stress and that is just natural. You've been through some hard times... harder many of us have to experience in our lives. But fear not, we're on the same side, on the side of Rohan and king Eomer - like lord Eodwine would have been, were he here..."

Wynflaed looked tormented with the clumsiness of the soothing-attempts his husband was up to and broke in. "Please lady Saeryn, we appreciate your stature here... it's not my convenience but the good of the Mead Hall we have to think, together."

"Right..." lord Athanar added. "Now let us call this meeting off."

Saeryn didn't react but Thornden nodded courteously.

"Then... I'll postpone the meeting with the craftsmen for later tomorrow and the soldiers will have an exercise led by Coenred early in the morning. I hope I could see you two after the breakfast... Now I must beg your pardon. I need to think."

Wynflaed turned towards her husband and Athanar paused.

"Yes, forgive me... I'm clearly overloaded... I'd like to see you two accompanying us at the banquet, by our side. I'll make a few announcements. And you can address the people if you wish then as well. And if there is anything you wished to talk with me before it, feel free to address your concerns or your propositions. Is that allright for you?"

Lord Athanar rose up noticing the approving nod from Saeryn and Thornden and turned towards his sons. "Go and help people outside if there is anything left to do. And don't go messing up with anything... We'll have a party tonight and everything needs to be in order. You understand?"

Wilcred and Wilheard flied from their seats. Their releavment was apparent indeed. Lord Athanar shook his head as he watched them go.

Athanar glanced at her wife and nodded to her. "I will go for a walk, just to look at the place... and to think. Shall I see you my love, in an hour or two? You must be busy arranging our apartment before that?"

[Durelin]

Coen dearly wanted to escape this man, but could not think of a way to do so without upsetting him. In his mind, a 'no thank you' was as plain as 'no' any day, and he couldn't think of a polite way to say 'no, I'd really rather you go away now.' He did not hold any quarrel against this Erbrand, though he had seen the look on the man's face only a moment before. It was perhaps best to step lightly around this man, if possible, so Coen simply nodded politely in recognition of his reinforced offer. He then turned his attention immediately to those carrying the baggage and requested, "Try to be careful with those." They weren't all his men, so he did not wish to sound like he was barking orders at them yet.

He was about to go find Hilderinc, leaving his conversation with Erbrand as it was - if the man wished to follow him, so be it - when just moments after his 'request' he heard a very slight thud and an "oops." He turned to see a boy with a package about to unwrap or fall from his hands, and one of (he assumed) Lady Wynflaed's combs already on the ground in front of him. Coenred closed his mouth and went over to the boy, and stooped to put a hand under the package in the child's arms and pick up the comb.

"That's a difficult one," he said simply. Taking the package from the boy, he turned to Erbrand and offered him the package. "Would you mind placing this with the others, sir? There's something I dearly need to attend to."

[Loslote]

Lilige directed the unloaders to put the trunks in the center of the room and had them go back for the rest. She opened one of the trunks with Lady Wynflaed's clothes and began smoothing the wrinkles out. She folded each and placed them in a neat stack near her Lady's bed.

Emptying one trunk, Lilige turned to the next one. This contained the personal heirlooms and other small items Wynflaed had brought with her. Lilige set those aside, waiting for her Lady's direction about where to place those.

Lilige moved through the rest of the trunks, hoping to have the room fairly well organized by the time Wynflaed and Athanar were done with their counsel. Smiling, she surveyed her work during the lull while she waited for the next trunks to be brought in. She was well on the way to finished her small contribution in helping her Lady settle into her new life.