Scarburg Meadhall

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar greeted Degas and Thornden and after they had talked on Saeryn's condition - and when she seemed strong enough to concentrate on other issues - Athanar finally came clear with what he had in mind.

"I do understand there were strong feelings aloft yesterday evening, and ale gives strength to strong feelings." He looked at all the three carefully.

"I'm willing to come a long way towards your people to settle these issues in a decent and just manner. That means way more leniently things would go in any court in Edoras... even if I'm not going to let Lithor off the hook just like that. As a soldier he must understand his place."

Thornden looked like he was trying to make a defence of Lithor but Athanar waved him quiet with his hand. "I know you would like to talk for him... what happened outside I have no clear picture of, and would like to hear also your view of it, but maybe it's better I'll hear you as one witness among the others so that I'll put similar weight to every account of it. And what he did inside, well there is little excuse for his behaviour... and I wish to see his reactions with a blank eye."

Lord Athanar was not sure if his explanation of why he wasn't willing to hear any account on behalf of Lithor satisfied Thornden or not, but Thornden did anyway lean back again picking up a piece of bread.

"Now I've heard this Javan is just a kid like Aedre is, and with children I must say I'm totally against public physical punishments... growing up in Wormtongue's court taught me that lesson well enough. Those punishments tend to sow the seeds of hatred more strongly anything else does. Now who'd be his parents? I'd like to exchange a word with them before we start if possible?"

[Folwren]

Lithor had done no wrong outside, and it was this that Thornden wished to say. Athanar, however, did not wish to hear it now, though he promised later to allow Thornden to speak. Just as well. Then everyone, including the two young men who had apparently accused him, would be answered as well.

“Now, I’ve heard this Javan is just a child like Ædre is, and with children I must say I’m totally against public physical punishment.” Thornden allowed himself to take a breath as he felt the first real relief he had felt all morning. Lithor’s fears, then, seemed unfounded. “Growing up in Wormtongue’s courts taught me that lesson well enough. Those punishments tend to sow the seeds of hatred more strongly than anything else. Now, who’d be his parents? I’d like to exchange a word with them before we start if possible?”

“His parents are not here,” Thornden said. “I stand in their place. He is my brother. So, anything you would wish to say..." he opened his hands and shrugged and looked Athanar in the face, expectantly.

[Nogrod]

"Ahh, well... that is news indeed." Lord Athanar was confused. He tried frantically to think over the sides of the matter as to whether it was good or bad news that Javan was Thornden's brother. But looking at Thornden's expression he couldn't help but to smile.

"You must fill me in with your stories one day Thornden... and about parents who leave their children." Athanar looked suddenly more serious. He was guessing the truth of the matter and wished to push the thoughts away. "One day."

With that he nodded to Thornden indicating he wished to further the discussion no more. Instead he turned to Saeryn and looked at her closely before opening his mouth.

"Lady Saeryn." He opened but was distracted by Wynflaed who turned into the table wishing everyone good morning.

"Oh, good morning my dear." Athanar answered and gave her a courteous kiss to the cheek as she had sat down beside him.

Turning back to look at Saeryn he smiled cautiously. "If you accept the offer lady Saeryn, I myself and my good lady Wynflaed here," he glanced quickly to his wife who nodded to him in assurance. "So we are ready to adopt you as our daughter to inherit this Mead Hall - or to let your child inherit it in due time."

Thornden and Degas dropped their jaws.

[Folwren]

The sight and smell of food had made Saeryn feel increasingly sick throughout the course of breakfast, although she ate nothing and said almost as little. It wasn’t until Athanar made his unexpected and shocking offer that she realized just how ill she actually was. Her mouth went perfectly dry and her stomach became uncomfortably warm. She swallowed with difficulty.

“I don’t know. I have to think. I can not. . .excuse me.” She stood up hastily with no attempt at politeness nor with any disguise of her immediate distress and ran off as quickly as she could with one hand clamped firmly over her mouth. It took more strength of will and stomach than she thought she possessed to reach the door in time.

Her body trembled with the effort of vomiting. Between her gasping efforts, her thoughts came in broken fragments. “Adopting me? The baby can be heir? This would solve. . .that problem. Adopting me? I’m married. It’s ridiculous. It will solve the problem.” Her shivering abated and she regained her composer. She went to the kitchen to drink some water and then walked back to the hall. Everyone at the table ceased speaking as she came near and turned to face her.

“Lord Athanar,” Saeryn said. “From what I understand of your offer, I am inclined to accept, but I should like to speak more in-depth of what it would mean before I agree entirely.

[Nogrod]

Looking after Saeryn running away from the table lord Athanar felt pity and compassion. He glanced at her wife and smiled to her timidly. He remembered how bad a carriage could be. Aedre had been an especially hard one and he remembered the vomiting, the shakes, the moods...

But he was more than happy to see Saeryn return in an instant as it seemed everyone was waiting for her answer to the proposition and thus were not willing to converse on anything else.

“Lord Athanar,” Saeryn said as she came back. “From what I understand of your offer, I am inclined to accept, but I should like to speak more in-depth of what it would mean before I agree entirely."

Lord Athanar nodded and smiled gently to Saeryn. "Of course, that's understandable, and a justified call." He took his goblet and took a sip of the mead before continuing.

"Adopting you would mean the following..." He looked at her to the eye quite intensively before going forwards.

"Now let this stay between us here around this table... I do not think I will live here for the rest of my life. I'm appointed here by king Eomer's decree and I have a mission I'm going to accomplish. Where I will end up in my life is not in my hands. It is my king who decides these matters." He glanced at his wife and laid the goblet from his hand to the table.

"Also, my eldest daughter is happily married and I wish the same for Aedre. My daughters are not contesting any inheritance there might be here." He leaned back on his chair and laid his hands on the table. "My sons then you ask... they will need to show their qualities and earn their future themselves, like I have done. I do not wish to prepare the way for them as they need to earn their place themselves..." He glanced at Degas and Thornden and leaned forwards to pick the goblet.

He was cleraly thinking about how to put his next words as he raised the goblet and took a sip from it.

"Even if king Eomer doesn't reassign me after Mid-Emnet has been pacified under the king's rule we are twice your age lady Saeryn..." He turned his gaze into her. "And we are forty years older than your child... So if we live into the old age in here, then we will retain our eorlship over this Mead Hall until it is time for us to step aside... but I think that is not the most probable scenario." Here Athanar glanced at her wife once again.

"Who's the eorl of Scarburg is in the end something king Eomer decides, not something anyone here decides... But we can do our part insisting you or your child will be the inheritor of this place here - but the inheritance would not apply to any other belongings we might have in the future. Does that sound reasonable to you? What do you say Degas as her brother?"

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Of all possible scenarios, this was not one Degas had envisioned. Yes, he had fast earned a respect and liking of the man he had so quickly disliked the day before. Yes, he found him to be a good conversationalist, and he trusted him to be a good and honest man, insomuch as any man can be good and honest at all times.

But to adopt his sister? To name her his heir? The child would inherit the title and estate he was conceived into, if not the eorldom. But that had never been the problem. The problem now, from Degas's point of view, was Athanar's sons.

Degas, as a younger son, had known the lands he lived on were not his to inherit. And when his parents died, he had resigned himself to no inheritance at all, as the papers had emerged - falsified though they must be - that left everything to Fenrir. Still, he had not contested this, as he had desire - he chuckled in his mind - to be a minstrel. A traveling, title-less minstrel. A singer at campfires, a lute-strummer earning his keep by spinning yarns and passing news from one place to another.

He had been raised to know his worth, of course, but the reality of his life... He and his sisters were far too pragmatic to deny the new reality of their brother as their lord. They would have nothing he did not wish them to have. They were his underlings, no longer his siblings.

Yet... somehow they did not rebel. Thinking back, Degas could only think he'd held his piece out of fear for his sisters. He thought himself a coward for this, and moved his thoughts quickly onward, aware the table was waiting for his comment.

Athanar's sons were young. It was not that they were younger than him physically, it was that they had not experienced life they way he had. Degas had been orphaned. He had traveled alone, taken up a craft. He had relied on his skills and his diplomacy, not his name, to earn any accolades allowed to him. He had taken up another craft after music: sailing. His callused hands showed it. He had taken to slathering his fingertips in ladies' salves before bed to soften the calluses that made his fingers fumble on the lute and harp. But the point was, he had lived on his own, without the crutch of a title or an inheritance. He had learned to confront life as a man, not as a son, not as a lordling.

And these boys, though they were his peers in the eyes of his elders, had not.

And he could not envision them, these boys that oozed entitlement from every pore, happily giving up wealth or status, no matter how insignificant and undeserved that wealth and status may be. Scarburg was no Edoras, no Aldburg, but it was a holding, and these boys, Degas believed, would not take kindly to their parents adopting a new heir, surpassing their claims to their parents' titles, possessions, and lands.

Degas decided on bluntness. "I believe that it is a fair arrangement that well suits all parties, however I worry that your sons will take umbrage over something they may feel they are entitled to being passed to my sister. I would dislike to learn later that my sister is the object of any resentment they or others may feel."

[Nogrod]

"There are many reasons for resentment and it may be one is not able to avoid them all." lord Athanar said calmly looking at Degas. "It's a rare occasion when this kind of arrangement can be done with all the parties equally contented about it."

Degas nodded.

"And anyway... I don't see the future of Wulfric and Wilheard in here. They have been serving in the military in the west for the last one and half years and only got back from there a while before I was appointed here by the king. So we wished them to see this side of life for a while untill they will go and search for the continuation of their careers in the military." Lord Athanar paused like he was thinking. "Though I hope in a different place from the last one as it clearly hasn't been only for their good." He sighed and glanced at his wife. "Let's hope this will turn out a learning experience for them..."

He shrugged and shook his head slightly. "Well, what am I babbling here? We should start the proceedings so that the soldiers can take to their exercising and everyone gets to their duties," glancing at the gathered crowd in the Hall he continued now slightly amused: "It seems no one will do anything before we're done here... so let's see it done then."

[Folwren]

Javan was not angry anymore. He was a little cowed and perhaps a little afraid of lord Athanar, but he was not angry. He stayed where he was until he felt that he could present himself to Athanar and then he went out.

It was not difficult to find him. Athanar and Saeryn were speaking in the great hall, and Degas was sitting nearby. Javan approached to a respectful distance and then stopped and waited until he was noticed.

“When will you tell your sons and your daughter?” Saeryn was asking.

“One second,” Athanar said, holding up his hand. He looked at Javan. “Do you wish to speak with me?”

“If you please, m’lord,” Javan said, coming forward a few steps. He paused, looking awkward. He glanced at Degas and Saeryn and then back at Athanar. Saeryn looked closely at him, and noticed the very slight rim of red around his eyes. “I am sorry,” Javan said to Athanar. “For the way I behaved this morning before you.” The words stuck uncomfortably in his throat. He forced them out. “I should not have argued after you made your decision. I realize that it is fair and. . .and merciful. I ask your pardon.”

[Thinlómien]

Wulfric

Commands were given, action was taken and here they were, him and Will, unnoticed again. Wulfric clenched his fists. A tiny voice in his head said that Lord Athanar just wasn't used to having to full-grown sons in his household, but Wulfric felt like exploding anyway. What were they for in this pitiful distant place if not for dangerous situations like this? Forgotten, they now stood next Scyrr while the healer was tending to his wounds and a suspiciously Dunlendingish-looking woman had appeared out of nowhere to assist her.

"By Oromë!" he swore. "Can't you get a sick man to a bed or do you have to tend him on the grass? Is this how professional folk we have here in Scarburg!"

He didn't care if the women replied or not. "Wilheard! Find anyone to help you and find a bier and take Scyrr in, wherever these women guide you!"

"I'm going," he announced, and strode away. Where, he didn't know yet, but at least he had managed to give out some orders and at least he didn't have to play nanny anymore.

~*~

Wilheard

"Sir, I know where the bier is and I can find it for you," the Dunlending woman said.
"Why then, fair lady, are you still standing there?" Wilheard asked. The woman apparently figured out it was better not to answer and turned to hurry away.
"Good dog," Wilheard muttered and rolled his eyes.

It had been like this for the past several weeks, ever since they returned from the barracks. Their father would do something stupid with would irk Wulfric and he'd give Will a stupid order with the authority of the elder son and march away to protest. Such a wonderful leader that man would make one day, Wilheard thought.

He started scanning the yard lazily for someone to carry the pier with him - or better, two men to carry it so that he could go riding. He really needed a break.

~*~

Modtryth

So there was a search for Erbrand and Lithor. Modtryth had never liked either of them too much - Lithor had downright annoyed her but she had thought Erbrand a good man because of Kara's feelings for him - but now she had a bad feeling. She felt for Kara even though Erbrand's deed was hard to understand, and she would have rather taken the boisterous and conceited greybeard back than all this mess. And the new Eorl and his family - well, to work under them was like working under any smaller or bigger lord in Rohan. The time of noble Eodwine was over, and it was time to go back to reality.

It wasn't difficult to find the pier, it was by far the biggest object in the corner where Aedhel kept her healer's equipment. Last time they had used it to take Lord Eodwine to the carriage to be taken away... but better not to think of that.

Modtryth took the pier and carried it out to the yard.

"Mum! What's happening?"
The kids were standing idly on the yard, following the unfolding events with enthusiasm.
"There has been a fight between two men. Now get out of the way but stay within sight of the house. The soldiers are in the woods." With that, she hurried away to where the wounded man was.

~*~

Cnebba

"Your mother isn't very informative, is she?" Javan asked darkly.
Cnebba glanced at Garmund. He didn't know what to say. Should he defend his mother or agree with the older boy?

"I like her," Leodern said.

Javan ignored the girl. Cnebba knew he was too old to play with babies like Leodern. "Why don't you go away?" he asked the girl. He half expected Garmund to become angry, but he sided with his best friend instead of his sister: "Yeah, go away and play with your dolls, we don't want you here."

Leodern gave the two boys a sulky face and ran to the kitchen where she was always welcome.

Cnebba shrugged. "I wish we could find out what's happening." Ghastly scenes of brutal murder were already going around in his small head and there was a glint in his dark eyes.

[Firefoot]

“He ran? But – oh.” Léof’s brow furrowed as he processed this information. He had not known either man particularly well, though he had liked them well enough. Nor had he forgotten Erbrand’s gift of a saddle to him earlier that summer. But this – this was very bad. And from what he had seen of this new lord, mercy would not be swift in coming to either man were they caught.

He lowered his voice slightly. “You will not likely find them on foot. They took their horses and left some time ago, though I was not paying them much attention then. I don’t want to keep you, but my guess would be that they have already cleared the nearby area and could be heading in any direction, so why only search to the south? Though I doubt they will be easy to catch. They left only lightly burdened.”

[Folwren]

Thornden did not tell Léof that he knew already the two fugitives had taken their horses. He passed over Léof’s statement as though it had not been said.

"We are searching not only to the south, but also up through the marshes, though lord Athanar things it unlikely they went that way. The parties going in there are to be small and will only go out after we have searched the immediate surroundings. It is Athanar's orders that we search here first, to make certain that everyone else is safe," he added, in a hurried way, hoping to banish from Léof’s mind the waste of time searching Scarburg really was.

"Do you want to go out with us?" he asked, on a sudden impulse.