Hard Winters RPG

[Firefoot]

The man’s accent was strange to Léof but thankfully not too thick, and his tone was polite. Léof smiled. “Of course. This way.” He gestured toward the stables. Before trudging off through the muck, he relieved a second newcomer of his horse, mindful of making as few trips as possible.

He led the stranger to the stables, chatting as he went. “To the right here is the main hall. I think most of the goods the caravan brought will be going in there for now. The kitchens are there, as are the sleeping quarters. There are a smithy and a woodworking shop on the other side of the Hall as well, away from the horses here. And these are the stables – there are paddocks for the horses in front of and behind the hall. Probably most of the new horses will have to go out into paddocks for a bit here, until stalls can be gotten ready for them. I’m afraid we’re a bit short on straw, so they won’t be very thickly bedded down, unless there’s some on one of those wagons.”

Léof broke off his monologue as they reached the tack room. He tied off the horse he was leading in the aisle and indicated for the stranger to do the same. He began untacking the horse, cautious for any tricks the unfamiliar animal might try to pull, but he seemed grateful to be at the end of a long journey and stood quietly for Léof.

“I hope that helps a bit,” said Léof. “I’m sure you’ll get it down quickly enough. Do you plan to stay long, Master …?” He trailed off, realizing he did not know the man’s name.

[Inziladun]

Ladavan followed the man, who obligingly pointed this way and that, keeping a steady stream of conversation.
He took special note of the woodworking shop, thinking he'd likely spend a good deal of time there, at least for a while. He was hoping to have his own shop eventually.

The man tied Ladavan's horse (a ragged beast he had not even thought to name) and turned, saying

“I hope that helps a bit. I’m sure you’ll get it down quickly enough. Do you plan to stay long, Master …?”

"I am named Ladavan,", he said. "My thought is to remain here a while. I have some skill with wood, and perhaps could make a living while I see what fortune brings. He paused, then added
"Your manner is helpful, and it is good to know someone to call upon in case of trouble or doubt."

[Firefoot]

Léof smiled at Ladavan. “When folk on horseback come to the Hall, I am often one of the first they talk to. They ask many of the same things, and I am used to answering them.”

He stowed the horses’ saddles and bridles in the tack room, mindful of where each was placed. He had long since corresponded each rack in the tack room with a specific stall in the stable, and it had cut down on the clutter and confusion considerably.

They led the horses out to the small paddocks in front of the Hall (Léof would see to them more thoroughly later). “Stigend is our woodworker here,” he told Ladavan. “If you do not meet him on your own, ask me later and I will introduce you to him.”

[Inziladun]

“Stigend is our woodworker here,” the man who'd named himself Léof said. “If you do not meet him on your own, ask me later and I will introduce you to him.”

Probably more skillful than I, Ladavan thought ruefully. Ah, well.

"Fine," he said aloud. "For the moment, I need know only two more things: where to find bed and board. I see too that our coming is very welcome, and there is much to set in order. I could perhaps help with the unlading before I see to other matters."

[Folwren]

Javan came strolling about the corner before Léof answered and interrupted without thought.

"Léof, Thornden told me to help you with the horses," he said. He glanced at Ladavan curiously. "You come with the rest of them?" he asked. "You don't look like..." He paused and shut his mouth. He squinted a moment and then turned back to Léof. "What would you have me do? Bring the horses in, prepare stalls, or groom them?"

Before Léof could reply, two more men entered, one leading two horses and the second bringing in one. Javan turned to glance over his shoulder at them. "Here are more horses now."

[Folwren]

In one the inner rooms of the hall, Saeryn sat on the edge of her son's bed. Here, the sounds of the arrived caravan had not reached her. She brushed the hair back from Eoghan's forehead and peered again into his little face. His pale eyelids finally hid the tired, sunken eyes, but though he slept, he did not seem to sleep comfortably.

Saeryn rose, tucked the coverlet close under his chin, and left the room, pulling the door shut behind her. She paused just outside the door, her head bowed in troubled thought. Slowly, she became aware of the sound from outside. She raised her head and looked out towards it, and finally, as though weary with weight and age beyond her years, her feet moved towards the commotion and she went out.

She stood in the doorway to the hall, taken aback by the activity of the courtyard. The place had been silent and empty not an hour before, and now it teamed with life. She felt her heart rise with hope, until she remembered the little figure lying asleep on the bed in the house behind her, and the light left her eyes.

Approaching her with his hands full of a large sack came someone she knew. "Nydfara!" she said, surprised. "What brings you here? What is all this?"

[Firefoot]

Léof closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. His mind seemed to work so much slower these days. Once he would have managed this chaos efficiently but now his mind just felt muddled. One thing at a time.

“Ladavan, I would head back out to the courtyard and help unload, as you say. Once all is inside, I reckon someone will see to putting a meal on the table and getting the newcomers housed.” The man nodded and left with thanks.

He turned to Javan and regarded him thoughtfully. How best to divide the work? Before he could lay out a plan the two men with the three horses had approached.

“Are you the stablehands?” asked the fair-haired one.

Once the question would have set Léof bristling, determined to be taken seriously. Now he simply nodded and replied, “I am Léof, the ostler. This is Javan, who often helps me.” He paused again, wishing his thoughts clearer. “The tack room is up the aisle there,” he said gesturing. “I have started untacking the horses and putting them out in the paddock until we can get to bedding down the stalls and grooming the horses.”

“We can see to them ourselves, if you show us the way,” the fair-haired man replied. “I’m Fréa, and this is Caranthir.”

Much relieved, Léof replied, “Of course, welcome.” To Javan, he said, “Go ahead and start preparing stalls. Then I’ll have you help me with rubbing down the horses and getting them settled.”

[Galadriel55]

Ledwyn watched in dismay as the woman's face grew somewhat worried. Instead of accepting the welcome in the usual way, as Wilheard had done, she kept looking around her, as if searching for someone. Turning to Ledwyn, she addressed her, asking of something. Ledwyn caught the words "Common Tongue" - one of the very few things she could say in that speech. Did she fail completely with her greeting because she was supposed to address strangers in their speech? What pushed her to this task in the first place, when there were others much more skilled than her?

The lady was looking expectantly at her. "I would explain all to you if I could," Ledwyn wanted to tell her, but, of course, she could not. Maybe she should seek out someone of proper authority to welcome the guest. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Lord Eodwine was still speaking with Wilheard. Thornden, on the other hand, stood much closer to her and seemed unoccupied for a brief moment. He would know what to do, he always does. Ledwyn shot an imploring glance at the lady and nearly ran towards Thornden, which turned out to be a mistake.

She barely took two steps when her foot caught on a rock, hidden beneath the swampy muck. Had she been watching her step, she might have regained her balance, but as she was still looking at the dark-haired woman, she flew forwards. Throwing her arms out instinctively, she managed to grab someone's arm. "What!.." came a surprised exclamation, and she realized that she fell on Hilderinc's bad arm. A sack of potatoes that he was carrying fell to the ground, and both woman and soldier followed suit. The sack was not tied well, and potatoes came rolling out into the puddles. Hilderinc muttered something and stood up, trying to brush the dirt out of his clothing. Ledwyn looked at her own ruined dress, then at the soldier, at the spilt potatoes, and at the woman, still waiting to be greeted, and grabbed her head. "It is all my fault!" she wailed.