Scarburg Meadhall - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

littlemanpoet · 08-23-2012, 09:54 AM

Rowenna grabbed his proffered hand and felt something like needles inside her skin. Surprised, she looked up at him.

"We're getting close," he said.

She dropped her eyes to the ground to watch her feet as he helped her up the steepness.

"Thank you," she said more breathlessly than she felt. "Close to what, I wonder? A secret the quiet is hiding, I suppose?" She allowed a half smile.

Firefoot · 08-25-2012, 03:43 PM

“You shall have to judge for yourself what secrets you may find,” answered Scyld. “For my part, I only pray that I have not set your hopes too high.”

They had reached level ground, and Scyld released Rowenna’s hand. It had been startlingly cold, despite the warm cloaks and the rigor of their climb, and he found himself dwelling on the fact for the next several minutes until he broke out of the woods and onto a high rocky shelf overlooking the outlying lands: the hall and outbuildings of Scarburg, immediately at their feet; past that, the surrounding homesteads and the holdings of the local landlords; and farther away south the pale, gleaming ribbon that was the Snowbourne and the distant crags of the Ered Nimrais, marching east towards Gondor.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

littlemanpoet · 08-28-2012, 10:16 AM

Rowenna looked at the view. It had been a while since she'd been in the mountains and seen the view. She had forgotten how much she loved the long view from the mountains. And here she looked at them from afar. She suddenly had a famished hunger to go to them.

"Beautiful. I miss the mountains."

Of course, that hunger could not be satisfied. She had a home here at Scarburg, and home meant more to her than the adventure she had managed to survive for two years. There had been so much ugliness that she had not had a mind for the beauty.

"I like best to see them from a distance. There is much hardship and terror to be in the midst of them. Do you not think so?"

Firefoot · 08-29-2012, 05:14 PM

Scyld glanced at Rowenna. Something in her tone had caught his attention – a certain wistfulness, but tinged with something else. Perhaps there really were secrets waiting here for them.

“I could not say, for I have hardly spent any time there myself.” Indeed, he had spent nearly all his life within a couple miles of the spot where they now stood. “However, I had not heard that anything dwelt there more frightening than wild boars or Woses,” he said, giving her a quizzical look.

littlemanpoet · 08-30-2012, 10:17 AM

"Maybe there are no more brigands. Worse than that I did not find. The ones who held me captive are no more."

She stood straighter, remembering who she had been among them.

"Truth to tell, near the end I led them though they would not admit it, and my plans made them more dangerous than ever. So it was that we became too greedy and tested the margins of Edoras. So it was we faced a foe greater than any we had till then. I speak, of course, of Eodwine and his folk, and I saw a greater likely ally than the one I had and so worked what wiles I had to do in the brigands and place myself as well as I might with Eodwine."

She looked at Nydfara, suddenly realizing that she had said far more than she had intended. Her face hardened.

"It is your turn to pay the debt of so much news of me. Tell me about you and Sorn."

Firefoot · 08-30-2012, 05:30 PM

As Rowenna began unfolding her story, Scyld felt a flash of triumph – that nearly forgotten rush of uncovering a long sought after secret. The people of Scarburg led mostly mundane lives; their squabbles, petty, compared to the life he had known before. Compared to Rowenna’s story now. Led the brigands? He did not doubt it, but he had not expected it. All the stories he had heard of her till now had painted her as the victim, and in the beginning he supposed that had been true. But she was strong and clever, and her time with the brigands had made her hard – gone now was the casual flirtation, but Scyld was at least as attracted to her strength as he was to her wit.

She finished her story, and before Scyld had time to ponder what designs she might have on Eodwine now, she turned the discussion to him: "It is your turn to pay the debt of so much news of me. Tell me about you and Sorn."

He studied her, maintaining a cool composure, but his blood was rushing. He had missed this game.

“I have already told you about myself and Sorn,” he said, but he could tell from her glare that she did not believe his story complete.

He looked out across the plain again, but his eyes were drawn not to the mountains, as Rowenna’s had been, but much nearer. Where Scarburg Hall now stood, his mind’s eye could see clearly Sorn’s holdings. He imagined himself, a lonely and confused twelve-year-old, abandoned by everyone in the world he trusted. Traitors, all: he could not even trust his own blood. He examined the memory at a distance of thirteen years, carefully blocking out the emotions as he long since had learned to do.

Perhaps that part of his story was not so dangerous.

“I grew up on a farmstead, just there.” He gestured vaguely off to the southwest. He turned back to Rowenna and spoke matter-of-factly. “Our farm was hardly thriving – an even more rocky and unforgiving patch of ground than where Scarburg sits. My father built up a debt to Sorn, a debt he had no hope of paying off with six children to feed. So he fixed two of his problems with one move: I went to live with Sorn, and would owe him my services for ten years. I was twelve.”

littlemanpoet · 09-01-2012, 08:30 AM

Rowenna's brow rose at Nydfara's secret, now no longer hidden: he had been slave for ten years, as she had been for two. And to unlawful ruffians. No wonder she was drawn to him! Except for her brow, she kept her face clear without change of expression, though she could not dim the smoldering of interest in her eyes; nor was she aware of how intense they showed her interest to be. The overall result was a look of hunger mixed with a powerful effort to keep it under control. Most folk missed this and saw only intensity. Those of more keen perception saw it for what it was.

"So you were Sorn's slave until you were twenty-two. How many years is it that you have been free?"

littlemanpoet · 10-05-2012, 10:22 AM

The cold deepend out of doors. The sun hid himself longer each night. But the Hall at Scarburg was lit with a bright fire night after night and there was cheer out of the cold.

The Elf had chosen to stay with them for the yuletide. Logs were cut and brought near to feed the hearth. Game was hunted and killed to be cured and prepared for the feast of yuletide.

"Now this feels more like home," said Falco Boffin over a pint one night not far off from the shortest day.

"I'm sure it does," said Eodwine, pausing from practicing his art on the lyre. He had been taking lessons from the Elf. "It is good to see the halls decked again," he said as he strummed.

"You Eorlingas have an odd idea what to put on the walls!" Falco said, and lit his pipe.

"Can you not keep that thing lit?" Eodwine grinned.

"When I have a mind to," Falco returned. "Let's see if I can't pass a few smoke rings between those strings of yours."

Eodwine laughed.

10-05-2012, 10:22 AM	#8
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	The cold deepend out of doors. The sun hid himself longer each night. But the Hall at Scarburg was lit with a bright fire night after night and there was cheer out of the cold. The Elf had chosen to stay with them for the yuletide. Logs were cut and brought near to feed the hearth. Game was hunted and killed to be cured and prepared for the feast of yuletide. "Now this feels more like home," said Falco Boffin over a pint one night not far off from the shortest day. "I'm sure it does," said Eodwine, pausing from practicing his art on the lyre. He had been taking lessons from the Elf. "It is good to see the halls decked again," he said as he strummed. "You Eorlingas have an odd idea what to put on the walls!" Falco said, and lit his pipe. "Can you not keep that thing lit?" Eodwine grinned. "When I have a mind to," Falco returned. "Let's see if I can't pass a few smoke rings between those strings of yours." Eodwine laughed. Last edited by littlemanpoet; 11-18-2012 at 07:53 PM.

08-23-2012, 09:54 AM	#1
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	Rowenna grabbed his proffered hand and felt something like needles inside her skin. Surprised, she looked up at him. "We're getting close," he said. She dropped her eyes to the ground to watch her feet as he helped her up the steepness. "Thank you," she said more breathlessly than she felt. "Close to what, I wonder? A secret the quiet is hiding, I suppose?" She allowed a half smile.

08-25-2012, 03:43 PM	#2
Firefoot Illusionary Holbytla Join Date: Dec 2003 Posts: 7,547	“You shall have to judge for yourself what secrets you may find,” answered Scyld. “For my part, I only pray that I have not set your hopes too high.” They had reached level ground, and Scyld released Rowenna’s hand. It had been startlingly cold, despite the warm cloaks and the rigor of their climb, and he found himself dwelling on the fact for the next several minutes until he broke out of the woods and onto a high rocky shelf overlooking the outlying lands: the hall and outbuildings of Scarburg, immediately at their feet; past that, the surrounding homesteads and the holdings of the local landlords; and farther away south the pale, gleaming ribbon that was the Snowbourne and the distant crags of the Ered Nimrais, marching east towards Gondor. “So what do you think?” he asked.

08-28-2012, 10:16 AM	#3
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	Rowenna looked at the view. It had been a while since she'd been in the mountains and seen the view. She had forgotten how much she loved the long view from the mountains. And here she looked at them from afar. She suddenly had a famished hunger to go to them. "Beautiful. I miss the mountains." Of course, that hunger could not be satisfied. She had a home here at Scarburg, and home meant more to her than the adventure she had managed to survive for two years. There had been so much ugliness that she had not had a mind for the beauty. "I like best to see them from a distance. There is much hardship and terror to be in the midst of them. Do you not think so?"

08-29-2012, 05:14 PM	#4
Firefoot Illusionary Holbytla Join Date: Dec 2003 Posts: 7,547	Scyld glanced at Rowenna. Something in her tone had caught his attention – a certain wistfulness, but tinged with something else. Perhaps there really were secrets waiting here for them. “I could not say, for I have hardly spent any time there myself.” Indeed, he had spent nearly all his life within a couple miles of the spot where they now stood. “However, I had not heard that anything dwelt there more frightening than wild boars or Woses,” he said, giving her a quizzical look.

08-30-2012, 10:17 AM	#5
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	"Maybe there are no more brigands. Worse than that I did not find. The ones who held me captive are no more." She stood straighter, remembering who she had been among them. "Truth to tell, near the end I led them though they would not admit it, and my plans made them more dangerous than ever. So it was that we became too greedy and tested the margins of Edoras. So it was we faced a foe greater than any we had till then. I speak, of course, of Eodwine and his folk, and I saw a greater likely ally than the one I had and so worked what wiles I had to do in the brigands and place myself as well as I might with Eodwine." She looked at Nydfara, suddenly realizing that she had said far more than she had intended. Her face hardened. "It is your turn to pay the debt of so much news of me. Tell me about you and Sorn."

08-30-2012, 05:30 PM	#6
Firefoot Illusionary Holbytla Join Date: Dec 2003 Posts: 7,547	As Rowenna began unfolding her story, Scyld felt a flash of triumph – that nearly forgotten rush of uncovering a long sought after secret. The people of Scarburg led mostly mundane lives; their squabbles, petty, compared to the life he had known before. Compared to Rowenna’s story now. Led the brigands? He did not doubt it, but he had not expected it. All the stories he had heard of her till now had painted her as the victim, and in the beginning he supposed that had been true. But she was strong and clever, and her time with the brigands had made her hard – gone now was the casual flirtation, but Scyld was at least as attracted to her strength as he was to her wit. She finished her story, and before Scyld had time to ponder what designs she might have on Eodwine now, she turned the discussion to him: "It is your turn to pay the debt of so much news of me. Tell me about you and Sorn." He studied her, maintaining a cool composure, but his blood was rushing. He had missed this game. “I have already told you about myself and Sorn,” he said, but he could tell from her glare that she did not believe his story complete. He looked out across the plain again, but his eyes were drawn not to the mountains, as Rowenna’s had been, but much nearer. Where Scarburg Hall now stood, his mind’s eye could see clearly Sorn’s holdings. He imagined himself, a lonely and confused twelve-year-old, abandoned by everyone in the world he trusted. Traitors, all: he could not even trust his own blood. He examined the memory at a distance of thirteen years, carefully blocking out the emotions as he long since had learned to do. Perhaps that part of his story was not so dangerous. “I grew up on a farmstead, just there.” He gestured vaguely off to the southwest. He turned back to Rowenna and spoke matter-of-factly. “Our farm was hardly thriving – an even more rocky and unforgiving patch of ground than where Scarburg sits. My father built up a debt to Sorn, a debt he had no hope of paying off with six children to feed. So he fixed two of his problems with one move: I went to live with Sorn, and would owe him my services for ten years. I was twelve.”

09-01-2012, 08:30 AM	#7
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	Rowenna's brow rose at Nydfara's secret, now no longer hidden: he had been slave for ten years, as she had been for two. And to unlawful ruffians. No wonder she was drawn to him! Except for her brow, she kept her face clear without change of expression, though she could not dim the smoldering of interest in her eyes; nor was she aware of how intense they showed her interest to be. The overall result was a look of hunger mixed with a powerful effort to keep it under control. Most folk missed this and saw only intensity. Those of more keen perception saw it for what it was. "So you were Sorn's slave until you were twenty-two. How many years is it that you have been free?"