Scarburg Meadhall

[Mnemosyne]

Wynflaed listened to all that Saeryn had to say. Scyrr, she thought. Yes, Saeryn had remembered the name correctly, and from what she recalled her husband saying, he was a good man. Not dead, though, and hopefully not dying. "Do you know if the healer has been fetched?" she said. "We should probably send someone to look, just in case."

She thought over the rest of Saeryn's words. "And yes," she said, "you should tell Lord Athanar of Lithor's departure, for if you do not, I will tell him myself, and then things may not go so well for you. My husband is a stern man, but he is just. Any testimony you have regarding Erbrand will be taken into account, for we know little of his history."

She tried to think of what the commotion outdoors would look like, and evaluated whether her presence would do more good or harm.

"I am going outside, to see if there is aught I can do." Then she paused. Saeryn was still the Lady of the Hall in the eyes of these people, and the needs of peace exceeded the need of authority at this point. "Will you accompany me? I doubt Lord Athanar will be able to hear your testimony at this point, but perhaps your presence would be of benefit."

[Eorl of Rohan]

It was nightfall.

The eerie starlight poured in from the bedside window and illuminated the chamber. Scyrr sat up, the blanket slipping down to his waist and revealing a bloodied and badly bruised torso. His hand strayed toward his plastered and bandaged throat, gingerly feeling out the wound. Hot and wet. He had not realized that he had bled so profusely. He faintly remembered the arrival of the healer and the emergency treatment but not of being moved inside; he must have been out cold from the loss of blood. Common sense dictated that he lay still and let his wounds be further ministered. However, the staunching of wounds takes composure and patience on the part of the injured, neither of which he possessed in abundance.

Scyrr reached for the herb tea at his bedside, apparently placed there for his consumption: a mixture of golden seal, bistort, and plantain. Emergency anti-hemorrhagic remedy for heavy internal bleeding, he recalled. He remembered its acidic taste all too well. Internal bleeding, too? He really was in a mess, wasn’t he.

He then tentatively swung a foot off the bed, and instantly doubled up from the pain. He gritted his teeth and tried again. Better. The pain wore his patience ragged and thin, but he had to find out what happened in his absence. He ransacked the bedside drawers and came up with an earth-colored woolen pullover, deerskin breeches, and a pair of boots two sizes too big for him. He couldn’t find his uniform, but these would do for now. He was finishing up tying the bootlaces when the healer walked in. She started, as if surprised, and admonished him on getting up before he was properly healed. Not that he listened to her. He wouldn’t trust his life with a Scarburg healer if he could help it; who was to say they wouldn’t have left him there to bleed to death if Lord Athenar wasn’t there to help him?

[Nogrod]

“I do not know where he is, my lord,” Thornden said. “But I, too, noted that he was not at the drill, and that thought had come back to me in the stables, after your lordship had called us.”

Lord Athanar raised his eyebrow and looked at young master Thornden in deep thought for a moment. Thornden was quite clear of why it was he was being looked at in that way. Finally lord Athanar turned to Coenred. "Organise the search-parties Coen."

Suddenly he turned back to Thornden and continued, "Thornden, assign a few men to search for the marches together with Coen's men... then take a few men you trust and go where you think the two could be found."

There was a silence as the two men looked at each other; Athanar trying to see whether Thornden would blink - and Thornden trying not to.

Finally lord Athanar ended the gaze with a neutral smile. "Go. Both of you, go now!"

The two left. As lord Athanar turned to follow them leaving he saw Wynflaed and Saeryn coming out from the Mead Hall. He glanced himself quickly only to notice he was stained by dirt all over. He sighed and walked towards the ladies. But walking towards them he realised they both looked somehow more cognizant they should be. It was something in the way they looked at him approaching. They were clearly not wondering why he was so dirty but they seemed more holding back and thinking about something - quickly glancing at each other every now and then.

So am I the only one in here who doesn't know what this all is about? Lord Athanar shook his head and smiled, feeling the irony of it and getting actually amused by it while he came closer to the ladies.

"Excuse me my outfit. What can I do to you my ladies?"

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Athanar dismissed them, and Thornden and Coenred immediately turned and headed back towards the stables to get their search parties together.

"Gather the men, Thornden, we will speak to them and separate into parties once we are all assembled."

"Aye, sir," Thornden responded. He approached Hilderinc and Áforglaed who stood nearby apparently waiting for orders. "We're going to send out search parties, we are to assemble at the stables and prepare to move out as quickly as possible," he said.

Hilderinc nodded. "Yes, sir."

It was the first time he was actually under direct orders from Thornden in a more important matter, so he did not know how much he was expected to talk or if he should just listen, but Hilderinc was not used to entirely push away his thoughts if they troubled him. Áforglaed's words about possible threat from the local lords took some root in his mind after all, and it was always important to know what they were standing against before starting to prepare for the action. He also preferred to ask the question himself than to let obviously agitated Áforglaed to start spilling his thoughts in front of the new commander. "Has there been an attack, sir?" he added.

Thornden paused briefly. "No. The man who attacked Scyrr there," he pointed, "has escaped and lord Athanar wants him brought back. The captain will give whatever further details are necessary when everyone is gathered."

Hilderinc nodded. Áforglaed cast a worried look at Scyrr's figure.

"Is Scyrr okay? Could I-" he straightened himself and apparently forced himself to acknowledge the fact that he was talking to his new commander; in Hilderinc's opinion, he seemed to be able to control himself quite well.

"Scyrr is my friend. Could I just take a look at him, sir? I would like to be sure he is all right... only a moment, I will be at the stables immediately, sir," Áforglaed said.

Thornden nodded distractedly, he had too much on his mind to argue or say no for no apparent reason. Áforglaed rushed away towards the lying body. Hilderinc turned to walk towards the stables.

"I believe most of the men will be around there still, sir," he said to Thornden. "We should be able to ride out soon. We should be able to find the culprit fast, unless -"

He suddenly recalled a man he had briefly spotted riding away during the training. Thornden seemed to acknowledge that they could continue speaking together. It had now occured to Hilderinc that it was likely some soldier informing Thornden about the event, or perhaps riding out on his order. That would mean, however, that there had passed already some time since the crime happened.

"Unless," he continued, "sir, is it so that the man you sent away during the training was a scout sent to look for the culprit already? In that case, the culprit has a bit of a time advantage, if he wasn't caught already by that soldier."

Thornden was about to say, "I sent no one out," when he bit down on his tongue as it nearly delivered those very words. He looked sharply, sidelong at Hilderinc, and his expression was sour. Confound you for your stupid pretense back there. You idiotic fool. Of course someone saw you, and of course he'll say something. Many other explenatives came to mind, directed both towards himself and towards Hilderinc, but now his thoughts were racing to think of something to say.

"I was not the one who sent that man out. Scyrr was attacked after we had all left for the drills. It is possible that he was sent out by someone here to follow Erbrand," he conceded.

The mentioning of the culprit's name made Hilderinc forget all other questions for that moment.

"So it was Erbrand?" he said aloud, surprised at first. But once he started to think about it, the surprise easily faded away. Erbrand was, after all, the one from whom he would have expected something like that. This had completed Hilderinc's picture of Erbrand: a hot-headed brawler seeking out fights wherever he could. Sad, in a way, he thought. But obviously Erbrand is a two-faced man, dangerous, possibly using all the energy which he cannot let off during his playing and at work only for fighting. He was the one who attacked Áforglaed yesterday, and now Scyrr... Considering this, Áforglaed was quite lucky. It easily could have been him lying on the ground in a very bad state.

Hilderinc remembered his meeting with Erbrand in the morning. It seemed to him back then that Erbrand was trying to test Hilderinc's strength or recruit him into his gang. Perhaps he was disappointed with the result and went to let off his frustration by attacking the nearest victim? Hilderinc had met more fighters who were like that...

"He seemed to me like the local troublemaker," he finished his sentence. "I assume you used to have tough times with him as well."

Thornden clenched his jaw. At a normal time he would answer cooly, and correct Hilderinc and his flawed thinking mildly, but right now there were more pressing thoughts on his mind than being polite.

"We didn't have any local troublemakers here at Scarburg," he said. "Lord Eodwine saw to that. Erbrand was quick to defend his honor, and the honor of those he loved, and he is hot tempered, but he is not a troublemaker. It's as well to get that clear in your mind before we search for him, so that you and your men don't loose your heads if you find him, and treat him as though he were some witless brawler." His voice brooked no argument, it was tight with impatience and, if Hilderinc had known it, fear.

They entered the stables as he spoke, and there were many men there waiting, some with their horses still in the aisles, others waiting outside the stalls.

[Folwren]

“All the soldiers are to gather in the stables. Don’t unsaddle your horses, we’re going back out.” The word spread among the soldiers as they worked both within the stables and without. Quin looked up as his hands paused while losing the girth of his horse’s saddle. The passing message bearer placed his hand on Quin’s horse’s powerful haunch. “Better tighten up again, lad, we’re needed.”

The man went on and Quin turned again to prepare his horse for riding. The question of what they were going out again for briefly passed through his mind before it was gone and he was only paying attention to getting ready to take his orders. He left his horse and followed the others to the stables to hear what they were to do.

As all the soldiers and men-at-arms drew near, Thornden cast his eyes quickly over them. He roughly counted their number, verified that most, if not all, were present, and then turned to Coenred to tell them all what was going on.

--

Saeryn

Saeryn agreed to go out with lady Wynflaed. As they drew near, she saw lord Athanar dismiss Thornden and Coenred. The two men walked swiftly towards the stables. Something about Thornden’s expression caught Saeryn’s attention, even from the distance that separated them. The tight rigidness about his eyes and mouth worried her. He seemed harder, with a sterner command over himself than the trouble with Erbrand or his disappearance called for. Something troubled him greatly.

She barely had time to determine these things before they were drawing close to Athanar and he came to meet them. She looked at him, and then glanced quickly at Wynflaed, hoping to catch some indication of what she gathered of Athanar’s mood. To Saeryn, he seemed tense and angry, but that was not surprising. But then a swift curve of his mouth into a wry smile made her think perhaps he was a bit irritated, too.

“Excuse me my outfit. What can I do for you, my ladies?” he asked.

Saeryn stopped half a step behind Wynflaed, and then folded her hands before herself and waited until her time to speak.

[Durelin]

Coen returned to the stableyard where the men were still waiting, surely wondering what orders could await them, and what might have broken the peace so in this young hall in this fledgling emnet, but quiet and orderly, waiting for a command without gossip or questioning. At least not more than a few words under than breaths. Some might have been as apparently surprised and concerned as Thornden was about the tanner being a fugitive, and the others were perhaps grimly setting their minds for a rocky new start in these lands.

"There will be one party on foot lead by Captain Thornden to search and maintain security around the hall." He picked out several men to stay with this party from those he knew well, including Hilderinc. "Two small parties into the marshes; we need men who know the land well to lead these," he said, asking for volunteers or looking to Thornden to point them out. He then pointed out the rest of the men for each of these parties, including at least one of 'his' men.

Once they were chosen, he continued. "The final party will ride with me to the south; we will cover as much distance as we can to be back by nightfall." He chose his men for this, including a couple of local men who would be helpful for knowing the terrain and the local inhabitants. "Those remaining," he began again, which were very few, "you will stable the remaining horses and secure the barracks." They would have some help from the stablehands, but Coen was not one to leave all the work in the hands of the servants.

The men hurried to report to the leaders of their respective parties, Coen leading his horse from the stable and out to the edge of the yard where the other riders gathered. He gave Thornden a look before mounting up that told him that he would not lay aside his distrust for the man until he learned the truth or Erbrand and Lithor were found and Thornden proved himself a just man by not defending them if there was no defense to be made.

"The soldier Lithor," he began, calling out to the assembled parties again; the word 'soldier' was flat on his lips, "is also at this time unaccounted for. There is no proof that he is in any way connected with the fugitive, but until he is accounted for, be aware that we may be dealing with two men. We are all to return by night fall."

Coen and the riders rode south, looking and asking for any sign of the fugitive Erbrand, though the Captain worked on the assumption that Lithor was with him, or had fled as well.

[Firefoot]

Saddle this horse, stable that one. Bring one horse in. Let another out to graze. Léof wasn’t even totally sure how many horses were in residence at Scarburg at the moment, much less which horse belonged to which rider. Chaos, absolute chaos, that was all these new folk had brought with them. People seemed to be in and out of the stable at all hours of the day or night and he didn’t know who half of them were or if they had any legitimate business in the stable.

Honestly, it was an accident waiting to happen. Already things were getting misplaced, and that was only a step away from lost or stolen. As glad as he was that several of the newcomers were brushing down their own mounts, they didn’t always put things back in the proper places.

And it didn’t help that most of them seemed to regard him as having very little real authority. He’d heard the term “stableboy” tossed around more than once, and it was starting to grate. He had always been slender, it was true, and the scruff on his chin resembled a beard in the same way a Hobbit’s pony resembled one of the Mearas, but he had put on a couple of inches in height during the last couple months (finally – it had only taken nearly seventeen years). That ought to count for something, right?

But such was his lot. Too old (and with too many responsibilities) to run around with Javan and the younger boys, but too young for real camaraderie with the men of the hall. He’d been hopeful to see that the younger of the new lord’s sons seemed about his age, though his hope had been somewhat dampened since their arrival, in large part because of Lithor’s trial earlier that morning. Both brothers had seemed to him then like troublemakers, at least to some degree. Maybe they just weren’t sure how to fit in here yet. It might yet be worth some sort of friendly overture to Wilheard; first impressions were not always correct.

But now there was some fuss going on in the stableyard; the soldiers were all gathering. They’d been putting their horses away, and now they were going back out? He rushed out in time to hear the captain of the men-at-arms dispensing instructions for search parties. They were after… Lithor? Had there really been some credence to the trial against him this morning? And some fugitive whose name Léof had not heard. He thought a moment. Lithor had been through the stables with Erbrand earlier, he thought, though he had paid little mind. He’d been more focused on getting the stable in some semblance of order before all the soldiers brought their horses back from drills. What in Middle-earth was going on? Chaos, just like he’d said.

He spotted Thornden only a couple of feet away heading somewhere, but Léof caught his attention: “Thornden! What’s going on here?”