Scarburg Meadhall

[Groin Redbeard]

So those are their name. Lithor rubbed his chin. Noble names for vagabonds. But Lithor had no time contemplate on the Wulfric and Wiheard as Thornden continued, annoyed Lithor thought. Thornden’s cool gaze and attitude that had topped his conversation last night, and even just moments ago, began to melt under his warm anger. Lithor had never seen Thornden riled, even now Thornden muzzled his anger. It was good to see that Thornden put aside some of the formality that surrounded him.

“Oh nothing,” Lithor said still smiling. “I dealt them an insult for their discourteous behavior and they assumed I was after their whole family. Child play, all of it.” Lithor leaned against the mantle opposite of Thornden and stared into the fire with him. The warm flicker of the flame was surprisingly relaxing to the mind and eyes. Relaxed as Lithor was, he felt Thornden’s hard stare.

“I would not worry about Javan. He’s done worse.” Lithor said, insensitive to the painful images it might evoke in Thornden’s mind. “Besides, Athanar has no more right to punish your brother for striking his daughter than I have to punish Wulfric for trying to strike me. Children will be children and I do not see the point in making such a big deal over something as petty as a fat lip. Now if Athanar and Wynflaed have enough sense about them, which in this case I doubt, they will keep the fact that Javan was the bully quiet; however, if they do not, then dealing with Wulfric and Wilheard is punishment enough. They will break your brother’s hand if they have half the chance.”

The effect of his rambling came to him quickly when Thornden lifted his head sharply to look him in the face. His lips tightened in a hard line and his eyes flashed as he glanced about the hall for either of the eorl's sons. "Wulfric or Wilheard, you mean?" Thornden said, looking back at Lithor.

"It is what they tried to do to me." Lithor said dryly. Thornden shut his mouth and clenched his jaw, reverting his eyes to the fire once again.

“Why did Javan hit the girl anyway?”

“He said she was bossing Cnebba and him.” Thornden answered (Lithor could not tell if he was angry).

“You do not say?” Lithor said with great surprise. He was not surprised at the fact that the girl was bullying two boys (his own sisters did a lot of that in his day) but that it all fit so well into a defense for Javan.

“Well no worries, master Thornden. If you have a moment, I think I have a plan we can weasel Javan out of punishment from Athanar.” Lithor wore one of his cocky grins, the kind that people see on a cat’s face after it has just swiped a gallon of cream.

[Gwathagor]

The morning chill had just begun to lift as Crabannan scrambled down out of the rocky hills outside Scarburg. Just in time, he thought, for the Hall was beginning to bustle. He picked his way down between large outcroppings of rock, trying to avoid patches of loose shale. He was in a good humor, which was all for the best, given the bad start he had gotten with the newcomers on the day before.

He had risen early and chopped a pile of firewood for the kitchen, as was his custom, after which he had climbed up onto the hill to watch the sun rise. His harp he had taken with him, plucking notes as they came to him, singing old songs, murmuring snatches of rhyme to himself. The loneliness was restorative to Crabannan and bit by bit, he had felt himself regaining his footing, as it were. His thoughts fell into place. His nerves grew calm, his hands less restless. He had smiled - then caught himself.

He was smiling again as he wound his way back into the valley. Down ahead of him he spotted two men talking. One was Erbrand. The other - one of the new fellows. Hilderinc. Crabannan paused for a moment, reflecting. It was no good trying to avoid Hilderinc, or any of the other new soldiers, for that matter. It was not likely, anyway, that they would remember him, as the War had been over for many years - but the fact remained that they reminded him - of the past, something on which he did not like to dwell. There was so little to be proud of. They all looked the same to him, these Rohirrim. They all reminded him of the men he had fought alongside, the men he had -

He slipped and slid down the hill about ten feet, scattering stones everywhere. They bounced and rolled down the hill towards Erbrand and Hilderinc. Crabannan followed shortly, back on his feet again.

"Good day." He greeted the men. "The day of reckoning, yes?"

[Folwren]

Thornden grew more and more uncomfortable as Lithor spoke. He didn’t like discussing Javan’s crime. Not in this fashion. He felt that people expected him to try to side with Javan and do his utmost, as a brother, to defend him against any wrath to come. They did not seem to understand that Thornden couldn’t accommodate Javan in any such fashion. Yes, he was Javan’s brother, but Thornden was also the third in command of the mead hall. His duties and loyalties demanded that he detach himself from any personal feelings, even in something so ‘petty’ and unofficial as this. He had resolved long ago, when Javan first started to prove troublesome to Eodwine, that he would stand no more than necessary between Javan and the eorl (whoever he may be) and his judgments.

In addition to this, he felt that what Javan had done was more than just give Ædre a bloody nose and fat lip. He had broken some un-written law of society. A woman should never be struck in such a fashion. She should always be handled gently and carefully. That was a nobleman’s role and code of behavior. Javan had to learn it before he became a man, for by then, it would be entirely too late. Besides that, Ædre was the daughter of Athanar. Would everyone be so swift to defend him if he had struck Wynflaed? Or hit Saeryn, heaven forbid? No, he thought not.

“Well no worries, master Thornden. If you have a moment, I think I have a plan we can weasel Javan out of punishment from Athanar.”

“I think not,” Thornden said, stiffly. “I have little desire to get him completely off the hook, but I will see to it he is not unjustly treated. You don’t seem to understand, Lithor. Even if the girl was in the wrong, Javan should not have struck her. I will not pretend, even with you, that I think that my brother is perfect. He made a mistake, and it is only right that he should be required to pay for it. I won’t have him growing up thinking it’s acceptable to hit someone like that, much less a girl or, as he grows older, a young woman, and so forth.”

Lithor looked at him and merely raised an eyebrow. Thornden sighed, and reconsidered his words and his decision. “Alright, tell me your thoughts, and if it turns out that I need to defend him, I will consider what you say.”

[Groin Redbeard]

It was plain that Hildernic was thinking hard when Erbrand was speaking, now Erbrand knew why. Hildernic was speaking of brawling as if it was an occupation or a past time. Of course there are better ways to spend one's time, I am not challenging you to fight. All the while that Hildernic was speaking Erbrand began to feel less inclined to tell the man about his adventure with Oeric. Hildernic's last words confirmed Erbrand's suspicions: he was an idealist and had almost no sense of humor.

A reply was in place, but before Hildernic finished Erbrand was distracted by somebody coming, or falling, down the Scar. What a sight, Erbrand almost laughed!

"Good day." He greeted the men. "The day of reckoning, yes?"

"Someone seems to be happy about it. You should not be after siding with Lithor last night. Ah! but I do not want to talk about that. I think I should be getting back to my work." Erbrand eyed Hildernic curiously.

"You seem like a good fellow." He eyed Crabannan. There was a sudden impulse to let go of his secret. Erbrand was going to tell Crabannan anyway and Hildernic seemed like a sensible person. However, in the end he decided against it.

"Good day to you sirs."


Lithor

“I will not pretend, even with you…”

Lithor was hurt by these words. He might be full of mirth more than somberness, but he was not a simpleton or a toy that people could play with. Why should Thornden pretend with him? Lithor certainly never pretended with Thornden.

“Well it is simple.” Lithor replied dryly, some of his enthusiasm dampened. “Punish Javan first. I did not say that he should be spared from punishment, only from Athanar’s punishment. Do you really think that Javan’s crime is worthy to be held in the same instance of a military trial? The law of blood allows and the law of society demands that you, as Javan’s brother, correct him, not Athanar.”

Lithor was puzzled by the whole deal. Thornden talking in Javan's defense? What, is it going to be a trial for Javan as well? The consequences of a boy striking the girl will be the same whether it was a lord's daughter or a peasant girl. Lithor dared not say it, for he knew that younger people take things the wrong way, but he thought Thornden was being a little cowardly in the whole deal.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

When Hilderinc saw Crabannan approaching in a rather rushed way, his initial thought was that he indeed had been cornered by two members of a gang who have been following him on his morning walk. But soon the thought was dismissed and proven foolish. Obviously, he thought, that would be a very unlikely thing to happen anyway.

Erbrand seemed to have decided to go about his business. Hilderinc reminded himself that he should probably get back by the time all other people are awake - also in order to get something to eat for himself. He looked at Crabannan. The newly come man's face was unreadable. A mysterious man, Hilderinc thought. What does such a person do here in the first place? He remembered his yesterday's encounter with Crabannan and the interrupted question when he asked him whether he was a Woodman. Something about the man was slightly unsettling.

"We seem to meet each other quite too often," Hilderinc said after a while. "I assume you were taking a morning walk, or are all the musicians in this Hall going to the local marshlands for animal skins?" He left but a short pause, not expecting an answer, as it was not a real question.

"I was just thanking master Erbrand for the nice performance yesterday, and I might say here that I liked your music too," Hilderinc continued. "You seem to know the instrument really well, I assume you have been playing it for a long time to obtain such skill. Have you been invited here as a bard by lord Eodwine?" Hilderinc has been wondering about it, as that would at least explain the presence of the stranger here in the first place.

[Folwren]

He had said something wrong. Thornden was almost instantly aware of it. Lithor’s manner became stiff and withdrawn. Thornden became more wary, but he still stuck to his previous position.

“His will not be a military trial, of course,” Thornden said. “I do not even know if Athanar will treat it as though it were a court at all. All he said last night is that he wanted him to come before him around the same time that you did, but I think that it was more of a matter of convenience then it was a matter of that particular time being his time of court. But if it is, I will not be surprised.

“I have an idea that I will be the one who punishes him, but not before Athanar has seen him and decided what is to be done. It’s not quite so simple as you think. It’s not as if Javan had merely hit a peasant girl. Understand if he had, I would have spoken to the girls father even in that instance before deciding on any punishment, and heard what he thought. But the fact that Ædre is an eorl’s daughter makes the crime greater.”

--

Saeryn

She would not have wakened for a while had a knock at the door not roused her. Saeryn turned onto her back and raised her head. “What is it?” she asked. Modtryth put her head in the door.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but you said not to let you sleep in this morning.”

“Of course,” she mumbled to herself, remembering saying so the previous evening before going to bed. “Thank you,” she said, to Modtryth. Modtryth withdrew and Saeryn sat up and reluctantly pushed the blankets off herself. Her bare feet touched the cold floor and she shivered. She reached for her dress and began to prepare herself for the day, but just after she had pulled it over her head, her stomach seemed to flip. She stopped her movements and frowned, feeling disgusted and sick. What was this? She didn’t need to get sick in the middle of everything that was happening! Resolved not to feel ill, she commenced dressing.

By the time she came from her room, she looked palish green. She kept one hand pressed firmly against her belly, trying to calm the awful feeling of impending disaster. She slowly walked through the women’s quarters and out into the hall.

Modtryth was working around the tables. Saeryn called to her and beckoned with her hand. “Modtryth, I think I am ill.”