Scarburg Meadhall

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc stopped and gazed at Crabannan.

"Royal minister!" he laughed roaringly. "Indeed, no, that's what I would not like to be, Crabannan! Did you hear what he said?" He looked around at the others. Áforglaed looked back at him, puzzled. The others were also stirred by the sudden outburst, including Crabannan, as Hilderinc's roar could not have gone unnoticed by him.

"Let me tell you something, my untainted friend," Hilderinc turned towards Crabannan, his expression unusually agitated. "I am not repeating words from taverns, perhaps unlike you, but even though I haven't been to Gondor, I know what people need! People need a lord who understands them, yes! But they need maturity as well! They need it more than they need a lord who only pats their heads and is being nice, or..." Words failed him in the middle of the unprepared speech. "Whatever," he finished, not sure how to continue. He had never been good with words and this rather emotional response to Crabannan's not less emotional outburst had caught him completely unprepared.

But Áforglaed shook his head and backed away from Hilderinc somewhat, as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Whatever happened to him," he muttered quietly to those close to him, "I swear I never heard him laugh since I have met him. I thought he never laughs aloud. In fact I have never seen him shouting, have you..."

"What I meant to say," Hilderinc came to himself a bit, but felt his face turning red, "was that people need a good lord. But they also have to be able to recognise a good lord from a bad one, and dreams and wishful thoughts won't help them to do it right."

Now he was again speaking almost calmly, only his voice was trembling a bit after the unexpected outburst. He looked back at the others, being well aware of his own blushing face.

[Gwathagor]

"What I meant to say was that people need a good lord. But they also have to be able to recognize a good lord from a bad one, and dreams and wishful thoughts won't help them to do it right," Hilderinc blathered pointlessly.

"Obviously not," retorted Crabannan in a non-committal attempt to be biting.

Dreams and wishful thoughts? he thought sourly as he kicked another pole onto his chopping block and split it with a single blow. Just because I'm a harper, he's pegged me as a head-in-the-clouds and a dreamer. Soldiers are all the same! And they're worse when they think they're not.

These and similar thoughts ate at him as he worked. He thought he could feel the soldiers smirking at him behind his back, which was salt in the wound. He wanted nothing better to stomp off and leave them to the only stupid, brainless work they were fit for besides sticking swords in people. He wanted to point out to Hilderinc that bluster, noise, and force of arms did not a good ruler make and that if Athanar could not master his own spoiled, bullying leech-sons, he was hardly to be entrusted with a village, much less an emnet.

But something held him back. Maybe it was an idealistic desire to see something through for once, even if it was something as small as a dirty sheep-shed in a muddy field. Maybe it was morbid curiosity as to whether or not he could. Maybe it was stubbornness.

So all he said was: "Any man can learn to lead, but not every man is born to it."

Dreams and wishful thoughts, indeed! Some people never change! he inwardly railed. But as he fell into a rhythm of work, his mind drifted to distant lands, times, and regrets.

[littlemanpoet]

"I'm hungry," Garreth announced. "What about you?"

"'Tis not midday yet," Harreld said between swings on his anvil.

"What of that? I'm hungry now and will not wait. I'm going to the kitchens. Do you want me to bring you back some vittles?"

Harreld ceased his swinging. "Aye, that would be well. And bring back some water. Bread and water. If a little bit of meat can be spared, that would be good."

"Oh ho! Now you're ordering a whole meal! I'll see what I can scratch up!"

Garreth set down his tools and walked out the door into the cold crisp air. Axes were swinging off away, and there men's voices were arguing. Someone came out of the door Garreth was aimed toward. Oh no. It was a woman. He would have to greet her, no doubt. Of all the unwelcome - he stopped his thought when he recognized her - it was Harreld's Ginna. Speaking of 'scratching up'! This woman was the last thing his brother needed!

She said his name and nodded by way of greeting. She did not sound pleased to see him.

"Ginna." He stopped in her way. Was she heading to the smithy? Could she not leave his brother alone? Trouble makers, all of them.

"Where are you going to?" he asked forbiddingly.

[Folwren]

She remained still and safe as he held her close. Her head rested on his shoulder and one hand lay on his chest. Slowly, her crying ceased and she sniffed quietly from time to time. The minutes past unnoticed in silence while they sat for a while in perfect contentedness. Here, Saeryn knew that all would be well, even if they did not yet agree on this issue.

Her emotions cooled like a stove with the fire taken from it, slowly and steadily. As she ceased crying altogether, her thoughts turned again to the disagreement at hand. She would be happy if Eodwine really did decide not to take action, but she still did not understand why he would not fight for his place. It was not right, and Saeryn had always known him to try to do what was right and best for his subjects. Why did he expect less from the king?

Did he really not want to be eorl, or was it that he did not care to stir up that much trouble?

Without pulling away, she tilted her head up to look up at his face. “Eodwine,” she said. “Why don't you want to be eorl?”

[Firefoot]

For several minutes only the sound of chopping was heard as the men went about their work. Hilderinc seemed thoroughly embarrassed by his outburst and not yet ready to speak again; the others either did not know how to respond to Crabannan’s odd remark or did not wish to.

Scyld was at least momentarily satisfied. His companions were edgy, and Scyld had found that upset and emotionally charged men said things that they would never dare to speak when fully rational. In that way they were not dissimilar to drunk men.

He did not intend to let the mood pass, however. Something more than the Athanar-Eodwine showdown was driving each of them; something was making them each defensive. Scyld wished to know what. So he asked Crabannan, “Is the man that learns to lead a lesser leader because he had to learn it?”

[Lhunardawen]

"Ginna. Where are you going to?"

Garreth did not look pleased to see her. More than that, he seemed even aggressive, standing directly in her way and making no effort to conceal the suspicion in his voice. She could not blame him. But there had been no lie in telling Kara that she was not ready to talk to Harreld.

"I wanted to take a walk, it was getting stuffy inside." His expression was unchanged, not that she expected anything else. "So," she continued, with a little effort at being friendly, "how do you like Scarburg thus far?"

Garreth was not about to let this troublesome woman get by without assurances. "Your walk wouldn't happen to be sending your feet toward the smithy now, would it?" He glowered at her, squinting for effect.

Ginna sighed sadly, her shoulders slumping. "No," she told him. Her voice was soft, but she looked at him unflinchingly. "I did not hurt him, Garreth. Why are you so mad at me?"

He blinked. He stared. He frowned. "Who said I was mad at you? I never said I was mad at you. I'm just protecting my brother. He's too .... too trusting." He leaned over her, glowering again. "I don't want anybody taking advantage of him, see?"

She stood straighter, unmoved by the smith towering over her. "Have I done anything to make you believe that I have taken advantage of him?" Her arms crossed and her head tilted slightly, in an instinctive gesture of challenge.

"See? There you go accusing me. I never said you did anything, I'm just warning you not to. Women!" He threw up his hands and walked by her toward the Hall. Ginna could only follow him with her eyes, completely at a loss about what had just happened. Her face fell as one thing became clear: her father was not the only obstacle she and Harreld had to surmount to finally be together.

[Gwathagor]

“Is the man that learns to lead a lesser leader because he had to learn it?" asked Nydfara.

"He is until he learns it," shot back Crabannan, wondering what Nydfara's horse in this race was. The man had scarcely been here more than a few months, and his look was not of a man who cared for rulers and politics. He reminded Crabannan of a crow or a jackal. He reminded Crabannan of himself, and for that reason he was suspicious.

"And what do you care? You're even more of a stranger here than I am."