Scarburg Meadhall

[littlemanpoet]

Falco followed the Lady Wynflaed's eyes to Saeryn, whose eyes were not exactly dry.

"This is serious, then. Léof sounded more hopeful, leastways about King Elessar's healing ability. What manner of illness has he got?"

Not even Falco had interest in second breakfast with his friend's illness unknown. Maybe he would have to hie himself to Minas Tirith. His heart sank. Wanderlust or no wanderlust, he had expected to end his journey at Scarburg. Minas Tirith was five days to a week away.

[Nogrod]

Lord Athanar waited patiently for a short while, but as it was obvious their entrance had been noticed he thought Faramund could not pretend he didn't know they were here.

He turned towards Coen and nodded.

Coen took his ride a few steps closer and then called for Faramund: "Lord Faramund! Come out! It is lord Athanar, your eorl, requesting you to come forwards!"

Just as the sound of his cry had died in the air the doors opened and men started pouring out organising themselves into columns as Stedford guided them. While they poured out Coen backtracked to the level of his lord.

Finally Faramund came from the doorway and started descending the stairs to the space the men had left him to descend.

Lord Athanar looked at the pomp and circumstance half amused and half puzzled. That kid has not seen real danger or valour, I bet that kid has never needed to face his strengths and fears in the first place, all this parade... for what? But he has manpower... even if not too sharp-looking... hmm... let's see what he says...

Suddenly lord Athanar picked a figure from among the people standing around the two parties from the corner of his eye. It was the man he had seen kicked out from the hall, there was no mistaking as rather few men had reddish tunics around. He was distracted for a short moment until lord Faramund settled to the first step of the stairs.

Athanar turned to face the young lord and looked at him in the eyes, curiously but also steadfast.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc had not been paying too much attention to the rest of the journey to the first of the landholders. His thoughts have been mostly dark on the way, as if somehow the sighting of the holbytla was an ill omen to him. His face was stern, but if anyone had looked closely, they could have seen that he was troubled. He was angry at himself that he had acted so foolishly and could not restrain himself. He, a veteran amidst all the younger and less experienced soldiers, should have been the one to call the others to keep order; and not to cause that Thornden himself had to come back and what more, to rebuke Hilderinc himself. Hilderinc had very well noted the look Thornden gave him and he felt ashamed, it now looked as if he was but one of the youngsters who could not maintain discipline.

And as Hilderinc had been mulling over this inside his head, in some way, his anger with himself had also turned towards the holbytla, as he was the one initially responsible for everything. What was he even doing here? And once again Hilderinc was lost in thoughts, so much that he almost had not noticed that they were arriving towards first of the landlords' household until they arrived at the gates.

Hilderinc blinked, seeing the large hall and several other buildings. He heard young Quin by his side gasp, obviously surprised by the richness of the place in comparison to Scarburg. Hilderinc himself had not anticipated this much; his expectations have been that he might see something akin to it, but this place looked a lot... better than Scarburg. Maybe it is good that Scyrr is not here, he thought. He would have had one more reason to complain about the state of the Mead Hall. Hilderinc could well imagine that even some of the other men around him felt envy towards the inhabitants of this hall, even though Hilderinc thought such an envy was misplaced. The lavishness of the place did not certainly simply equal better conditions for living.

Athanar had called them to order and Hilderinc now did his best to straighten himself up in the saddle and to bear the banner of his lord raised loftily - just like he did on the day of their arrival to Scarburg. Each of the men tried to bear himself proudly, magnifying the appearance of their lord, as if they wanted to remedy for the bit of disorder during the encounter with Falco. Even the "stablemaster" seemed to try to fit into the ranks with the soldiers, as if he were one of them.

Occupied with observing whether the order is being kept and whether he holds the banner correctly, Hilderinc had not paid much attention to the folk in the courtyard until the moment when men began walking out of the hall. He kept his face inexpressive, but inside, he was surprised at the pomp which easily matched that of Athanar's arrival. What a showoff, he thought. I would not have expected this from some local land-owner, not by the least. Quickly, he looked at the expressions of his companions, and realised that some of them have been doing the same, but in a bit less unsuspicious manner. In some of the faces he could see uncertainity, in some eagerness and expectation. Like small children, he thought. They look forward to confrontation. Hilderinc knew very well, though, that the role of the soldiers will be most likely - or hopefully - to just stand by their lord's side and look menacing enough while Athanar will speak to the local landholder. Hilderinc trusted Athanar to be more than fit for any kind of diplomacy, and after all, his mere status dictated the landlord to submit. Later, of course, the soldiers will all take pride in his victory on the matter and merrily celebrate "their" victory in the evening. Hopefully.

[Folwren]

Thornden was displeased. He was displeased in more than one way. At first, he had been inclined to think well of the place they now stood. All had seemed in order, the courtyard clean, and the workings of the hall apparently going on in an efficient manner. But the sight of the elderly greybeard being thrown from the hall’s doors and left in the dust had stirred a distrust and deep disgust in Thornden. Then there was the expression on the face of the man who had seen to the ejection of the old man. He disappeared in the hall again, looking like a frightened dog with its tale between its legs.

As lord Athanar stopped and the men formed their columns behind and on either side of him, Thornden watched the old man crawl and scramble away. Then they had waited. Too long, they waited. And when Faramund finally decided to come out, it was with a show of force and arms.

This was not how anyone should greet their lord. He should be made welcome, not greeted with men-at-arms. In a time of peace, no known friend should be greeted so. His mind harped back on how he and Saeryn had greeted lord Faramund and the other lords and their soldiers when they had come to the Mead Hall two months ago. They had not tried to impress them with strength. They had attempted to make them welcome and deal with the business as diplomatically as they could. Much thanks they had received for it. When he thought of how they had treated lady Saeryn and her claim to levy the taxes in Eodwine's absence, his blood heated within him, and he looked with calculated distain on this young upstart who presumed to set his men opposite Athanar, as though against him, and who dared to show his face in such a proud and haughty manner.

[Folwren]

Saeryn mastered here trembling breath and answered Falco evenly. “It started as any sickness might when one is out in the cold often and working past one’s strength. Then he became consumed in a fever and very quickly it worsened until he fell into a sleep. He woke only once or twice before he left Edoras and was taken to Minas Tirith.” Her voice sank as she added, “Some say it is a sleeping death, and he will never wake again.”

“They that said that weren’t counting on King Elessar,” Javan said from the doorway. His face was set in a defiant expression and he glanced briefly at Lady Wynflaed as though blaming her for the rumors sent around that Eodwine was going to die. “I think he will be fine.”

Saeryn looked at him and smiled a little. Eodwine had been a great man to Javan, and she knew this. She knew well that Javan did not want to face the fact that Eodwine might die, and that was why he spoke so boldly in defiance of it. “We all hope he lives,” she said quietly. “But I fear we have spoiled your appetite,” she said, trying to brighten the mood. “Don’t push Fordide’s food away, Falco! You might offend the poor woman, and we wouldn’t like that. Besides, your fasting won’t make Eodwine well. We are glad you have returned. You will make the people happy and bring back glad remembrances of old times.”