Hard Winters RPG

[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.

[Firefoot]

As Scyld was carrying his second load into the hall (a large sack of oats), the Lady Saeryn stepped into the doorway. She looked tired, weighed down with care – a look that was becoming rapidly familiar to him but seemed intensified somehow in Saeryn. Of course – hers was the care of the Hall, and Eodwine had seemed particularly frail as he had greeted the caravan. And, he suddenly remembered, hadn’t she been pregnant when he left?

Her gaze landed on him. "Nydfara! What brings you here? What is all this?"

He nodded at her in greeting, unable to do more with his hands full. “Eomer King sends food and supplies from Edoras – much needed, I gather. As for myself, I always meant to come back, though it has taken longer than I planned,” he said dryly.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine trudged slowly back to his rooms. He carried the letter in hand, having concluded his conversation with Wilheard. Had he given him instructions or directions? He did not remember.

Each step seemed like lifting logs and moving them to a new resting place. Many folk were doing many things all around him. All he wanted was to rest.

He came into the mead hall, struggling with the door to close out the cold. Everything was always cold. Others spoke of being glad that the winter had passed. He still felt it, and wondered that they did not.

He moved toward his rooms, and stopped. There was Nydfara speaking with Saeryn. He did not move, but watched them, and listened.

[Folwren]

Saeryn nodded and let him pass without further comment. She stood a moment thinking about his words. Great tears welled up in her eyes as she realized that this was their salvation. Much longer on the fare they had, and most of them would be dead before spring truly came.

She turned to go to the kitchen and begin at once to prepare food for everyone, though inwardly she knew it was primarily for Eoghan. She saw Eodwine and stopped. "You have heard the news, Eodwine?" she asked. "You have been out? I am going to prepare a meal at once. Everyone will want to eat after unloading and after..." she trailed off. She was going to say, 'After being so hungry for so long,' but she couldn't bring herself to it. Didn't they all know how hungry they all were without her saying it? Had she not watched as her husband and children grew thinner and weaker before her eyes, and she had been unable to do anything for them? It was going to change now. No more were going to die.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Pain throbbed in Hilderinc's right arm as he got himself up. Next to him, Ledwyn broke out in utter distress. His mood dropped too as he saw the potatoes, the precious food, suddenly roll in the mud. But he wanted to reach out and calm the woman down, and then the wound betrayed him again.

"Calm down, it is noth-" he started, but again came a sudden throb of pain, so strong that it actually made his sight go black for a while. More instinctively than wittingly, he suppressed a scream that came out only as a soft groan. The arm kept doing this to him from time to time since it had healed, but usually not so badly, and not in front of so many people. Not that Hilderinc was in a state to analyse. His only thoughts were just that it hurt a lot, and that he wished it would not, not now of all times, and he could not think of anything else. While he saw some of the other bystanders dive for the spilled potatoes, all he could do for the moment was to clench his fist, close his eyes and grit his teeth.

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna passed between the paddocks. As she turned toward the Meadhall she saw a wagon and many folk, more than lived here. Who had come? Bringing wares for sale?

A woman ran into a man; she fell and her potatoes scattered over the ground. Quickly a small group gathered to help. Starting toward them. It was her wont to see the exceptions and differences, and so her eye was drawn to a man stooping down away from the group to pick up a potato here, a potato there, staying back from the knot of folk around the woman. If she did not know better, she would have thought it was Nydfara.

She came closer. It was Nydfara! Her heartbeat quickened. An image played in her head of herself running to him and jumping into his arms, welcoming him home. She would do no such thing, of course. Her legs felt weak. He was alive. He seemed well enough.

Four years gone, and suddenly here. No word, but why would there be? Who was she to him that he would send word? Yet there was anger in her that he should have been gone and never a word for four years. And this anger ran alongside that old familiar excitement, that quickening in her of senses and feeling and heartbeat that none but he could work in her.

She started to walk again, her legs feeling oddly unsure still, until she came near the group. She looked to make sure that they were doing all that must be done for the fallen woman before she turned to him, and stopped.

"I greet you, Nydfara. It has been years. Who brings this food?"

[Folwren]

"I have kept my-" he swallowed and breathed "-my children alive."

Saeryn's eyes flashed as she took in his words and their meaning. Her hands, resting one on his shoulder and the other on his laboring chest, felt the bones beneath his rough, white shirt. "By starving yourself?" she demanded . She swallowed back the lump of fear in her throat, torn between grief and disbelieving anger. "What good would it do if you died and your children were left fatherless?" Eoghan's crying grew louder, but Saeryn still did not turn. "Why didn't you tell me? You should not have done this!"

His brow lowered in annoyance. "Your children are alive. The deed is done. Berate me if you must. Now help me not die."

Saeryn could not stop tears from escaping her eyes, but she forced her sob into a bitter laugh. "I ought to let you die, you silly old man," she said, choking again on a sob, but smiling. Thankfully he still had the will to live! She had feared he was resigned to dying. It would be the sort of heroic attitude he would take. "You've practically killed yourself already. But I'll see what can be done."

"There's a good girl. I married right. See to the boy first. I swear to you I will stay alive a few more moments. Will you bring me food here?"

Saeryn bent and kissed his head. "Of course." She helped him lean back against the bed, taking away the support of her body, and after sniffing and wiping her eyes, she stood up and turned to the bed.

"What is it, son?" she said softly. Eoghan did not answer. Her presence calmed him almost at once, and he lay back, staring forlornly up at her. She sniffed again, picking up the cup of water from the table at the bedside. "Drink. I will bring you food, too."

[littlemanpoet]

"... and after-"

Saeryn did not finish her thought aloud. they come inside? Or maybe something else. Eodwine had not the strength to make anything of it.

"I met with Wilheard at the gate with the food and clothing." They are much needed. He looked at his hand absently, holding the letter. "Wilheard brought a letter from Athanar." He sat at one of the tables and unfolded it to read.

[Firefoot]

Scyld stepped past Saeryn into the Hall to add his sack of oats to the growing pile of goods. A couple of the women of the Hall were already sorting through it, undoubtedly planning a meal for the evening. He nodded a greeting to them but did not stay to chat.

He retraced the muddy tracks back out of the Hall. A vivid memory struck him as he eyed the bootprints, of Rowenna kneeling and scrubbing the floor, as she was so often wont to do. He realized that he had never asked whether it was a task that was given to her, or one she took on herself. An endless, thankless task, surely. So clear was the image in his mind that he half-expected to see her appear before him, telling the men off for tracking so much muck into the Hall.

It crossed his mind to turn and ask the women standing there at the pile whether she was still here, but he resisted. If she was around, he would see her soon enough, and without any gossip swirling around.

He returned to the courtyard just in time to see a woman collide with Hilderinc, sending a sack of potatoes flying. One came nearly to his feet, so he stooped to pick it up and return it to its sack. He supposed it was no dirtier now than it had been the day it had been pulled from the earth. He rescued a few more potatoes along the path but tried not to crowd too close, as a small knot of people was already forming around the fallen.

[Folwren]

Saeryn left Eodwine reading the letter from Athanar. She entered the kitchen and found Stigend and Modtryth seated together there.

"Stigend, we need a fire started," she said. "I hope they brought more wood. Use what you must. We will get water going." Kara entered behind Saeryn, carrying a large bowl full of oats. Saeryn smiled without quite meaning to when she saw them. "Modtryth, fill two pots with water."

"There is barley as well," Kara said, setting the oats on the table.

Saeryn took them and poured them into an empty pot and handed the bowl back to Kara. "Go and get some, then. We will make both." Kara took the bowl and headed for the door. Saeryn looked about at the empty bins and boxes lining the walls. She called after Kara, "And if you see them bringing more grain in, send them in here."

"The bags may be wet," she commented to Modtryth as she began to open the bins in preparation for the grain. "We want no ruined grain."

--

Thornden

Thornden saw rather than heard the commotion. He cast a swift glance towards everyone diving for the potatoes, and he smiled a little. But then his eye landed on Hilderinc, standing back from the others and hunched rigidly slightly to the right. His eyes were closed and his jaw clenched tightly.

Thornden was by his side in two steps and he held his hand out towards him to offer support.

"Are you unwell, Hilderinc?" he asked, in a low voice.

[Firefoot]

"Not too soon," said Leof. "I'd guess a couple more weeks." This would be his third year of delivering foals, and though he was getting better at recognizing the signs of upcoming labor, he still found it difficult to predict, especially since all mares seemed to be just a bit different, and the length of their pregnancies could be highly variable - about 11 months, but give or take as much as three weeks. Cinderfoot had been bred last June - theoretically the foal could come a week from now or six. It was her first pregnancy, too, so he had nothing to compare to. He hoped it would be several more weeks, though - although the horses had had able quantity of feed during the long winter, Leof had eventually run out of everything but regular hay. He knew that horses couldn't live off hay alone anymore than a person could eat nothing but potatoes and still be properly nourished. Since the caravan had come, he'd been reintroducing other grasses and grains to the horses' diet, and he figured the longer the mare could eat well while still pregnant, the better.

"Come see," Leof said to Eoghan, beckoning him closer. Cinderfoot was a steady horse and, though mares often became moody and restless before delivering, she seemed calm this morning. Eoghan stepped closer and Leof showed him what he was looking at.

"See how her udder is getting bigger?" Leof asked. "It's getting ready to make milk for the foal. When the milk comes, it means she's almost ready. And see how wide her sides are? When the foal is ready to come out, Cinderfoot will actually get narrower, but her belly will hang down much lower." He could see Eoghan taking in the information and filing it all away. "Would you like to feel the foal kicking?" he asked. He was relieved every time he came in and felt the foal still moving - that was how he'd first known something was wrong with the mare who'd lost her foal that winter.

"Yes," said Eoghan again simply. So Leof lifted up the boy's thin body and placed his hand against the mare's side where he'd seen and felt the movement before.

[Mithalwen]

"Westu Thornden hál!" responded Elfthain looking up across Safran's broad back at the greeting. Had the tall man been merely Javan's brother he might have been less formal, but he did not forget that as well as being a lot older he was also the Eorl's steward and erred on the side of caution, despite the genial greeting he had received.

"Aye sir, Elfthain Théodmund's son am I, at your service. Javan has spoken of you". The boy (and very boyish and awkward he felt in comparison to the Steward) paused in his grooming, bowed and then allowed himself to relax a little adding "only good things, of course!", then nodding towards his horse "T'is a small mercy at least, she is not a grey". He grinned ruefully. "And it must be done for she needs to be exercised even if we are not leaving today - maybe then she will have less energy for rolling in mud".

As he spoke he mentally assessed the man before him; tall as his uncle Elwin and as broad, though much younger, and darker in colouring, but not as dark as Javan. There was a confidence in his manner and a spark of something in his eyes, but what? Humour? Fiery spirit? Ambition? he wondered. Whichever it was, Elfthain concluded that looking up to this man might be more than a physical necessity.

"I don't suppose you know sir, when we are leaving that is?".

[Inziladun]

Ladavan tuned as another man's voice addressed Léof, then saw the man himself appear from around the corner.

Then, apparently noticing Ladavan, he said
You come with the rest of them?" he asked. "You don't look like..."

Like what? thought Ladavan. One of you? He sighed inwardly, thinking how welcoming a bed would be.

Léof looked suddenly weary himself.

“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.".

"All right, I thank you," Ladavan replied.

Nodding curtly to the man who'd spoken, and ignoring two others who'd followed him, Ladavan left for the courtyard.