Hard Winters RPG

[littlemanpoet]

As Saeryn went to Cerwyn, Garreth Smith came into the Hall, dripping wet and baleful in the eyes.

"Ho Garreth!" said Eodwine. "How are things at the smithy?"

"Well enough, toasty and smelling of metal and sweat, as always. But it'll be smelling of dung and so will this place afore long. The dung pit's overrun its bounds. He lifted one muddy boot. Eodwine realized with a wrinkle of his nose that it wasn't just mud on that boot.

"Oh for the love of..." he muttered. "I had better go see."

"You won't have to travel far."

Eodwine sighed and followed Garreth out the door.

[Firefoot]

Having already refreshed herself briefly in Léof’s small room, Cerwyn did not need long to wash up. Further, the promise of something to eat kept her from dawdling. The swirl of events since she had arrived had driven the thought of food from her mind, but she now realized her last meal had been Balan’s bit of bread and the last of her dried meat on the road, and she was now ravenous.

So, once she had washed, she took her entire pack and placed it in the chest without unpacking anything. It did not fit quite right that way, and the lid did not shut by about a finger’s width, though she suspected that if she were to stow her possessions properly, they would scarcely fill half the chest.

Hunger won out; she would fix it later. She left the room and was just beginning to wonder which door might lead to the kitchens when she caught sight of Lady Saeryn. Cerwyn walked up to her and said, “I would gladly take your offer of something to eat now.”

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine

It did not take long for Eodwine to survey the problem and the damage.

"How many spades do we have in Scarburg, Garreth?"

"Not enough I'll wager."

"Go and find all you can while I rouse the folk."

"I'll get Harreld's aid."

Garreth turned and jogged toward the smithy. Eodwine ran to the stables, where he found Léof. Did he smell mint? Odd. "Léof! Help me gather the folk, all able bodied men and women. The dung pit has overflowed and we need to get to work! You go to the Hall and I'll see who there is to round up elsewhere!"

Garreth

Garreth threw the door open. "Harreld! How many spades do we have?"

"What would you want to dig in this miserable rain?"

"The dung pit's overflowed. Probably trenches. What do we have?"

"No wonder you stink! About a half dozen if we're lucky."

"Bring them to the dung pit then check the armory. I'll check the Hall."

Garreth left the smithy, knowing his brother would do what needed to be done.

[Firefoot]

Leof could not keep himself from grimacing at Lord Eodwine's announcement. Just when it seemed that an already full day was winding down and he might figure out what to do with Cerwyn and what he was supposed to write to his father... which was nearly as undesirable a task as tending to overflowing human waste. He'd choose a stable full of stalls to muck over either task any day of the week.

Nevertheless he hastened to the Hall where people were milling about, talking before supper or tending to any number of small indoor tasks that never seemed to end, no matter how many rainy days kept them in.

He hesitated; it was unlike him to bring all the attention to himself but it would be far quicker to make the announcement to everyone at once. He needed their attention; he put his fingers to his lips and whistled, the sort of whistle that brought horses from the farthest corners of their pastures in for their dinners. Silence fell.
"Lord Eodwine has just told me that the dung pits are overflowing from the rain." A ripple of disgusted murmurs ran thorough those assembled. "And all who are able are to join him outside."

~*~*~*~

Folwren's post - Saeryn

Saeryn turned from Eodwine to go find Cerwyn who met her halfway across the hall. “I would gladly take your offer of something to eat now,” the girl said.

Searyn nodded and smiled. “I thought you would be hungry after a journey like that! Rain and mud takes it out of a body. The kitchen is this way.” She led her towards the kitchen as she spoke. She saw Eodwine speaking with Garreth, and she took a second glance when she saw Eodwine’s face wrinkled in disgust and displeasure. I wonder what is amiss, she mused inwardly just before pushing open the kitchen door.

“Rowenna, Frodides, Kara,” she said, entering. “Meet Cerwyn, Léof’s sister. She will be staying with us for a while.”

The women accepted Cerwyn into their midst and as they carried on conversation, Saeryn cut her some bread. She looked into the pots boiling over the fire. A thick healthy steam rose out of the first one she opened. She reached for a spoon and fished out some of the vegetables. They were not boiled to perfect softness yet, but they would be enough to tide Cerwyn over until the evening meal.

“I am sorry we have nothing better yet,” she said as she laid the bowl on the table. “Tonight we shall have a fine spread.”

Ledwyn entered the kitchen as Cerwyn sat down. “How is Wilheard?” Saeryn asked.

“He was asleep. I left him some brewed herbs,” Ledwyn replied, quietly.

“Thank you.” Saeryn looked away, but she watched her covertly as she walked across to the washtub and resumed her work of washing the remaining pots and utensils from the noon meal. Saeryn knew Ledwyn still grieved for her boy’s loss, but Saeryn did not know how to comfort her or what to say. She felt, sometimes, that the presence of her two, healthy children must be a bitter reminder to Ledwyn of her own child. Saeryn’s heart ached for the woman, but she did not dare try to express it.

Léof’s whistle from the hall interrupted her thoughts. She lifted her head towards it. She remembered Garreth speaking to Eodwine, and Eodwine’s grimace. She sighed. Something was wrong. “We’d better go out,” she said. “Stay here and finish up,” she told Cerwyn, laying her hand on her shoulder as she passed. “If it concerns you, I will let you know.”
She came back a moment later, her lips pursed in thought. “We have work outside,” she said in answer to Cerwyn’s questioning look. “The dung pits have over flowed.”

“May I be of service?” Cerwyn asked, rising.

Saeryn shook her head. “No. Stay here. You are tired and worn and have had more than your share of wet and mud today. If you are not too weary, you can see after our supper.”

[Galadriel55]

Ledwyn had no case to bring before the Eorl. She sat silently in the back and let her mind wander. The court was long, and her interest waning. She used to have a cause for worry, and for planning, but she did not have one anymore. Let the others do what they must; it was of no importance to her. As her mind wandered deeper into itself, she saw small feet splash through puddles. They slowed down and stole around the yard. Then, noticing her, they leapt up and disappeared behind the corner. She chased after them, but, rounding the corner, she did not see anything. She looked back: no, she did not pass them. She gazed around her, searching for a trace. Then she knew they were on the roof. She looked up, and there they were. Now he will climb down to me. But what's that? The feet tripped and tumbled over each other, going over the edge of the roof where she couldn't see. No! That is not what happened! she was about to cry out, when something soft and grey flew into her face and she woke up with a start.

It seemed that court has just finished; people were still standing up from their seats. Ledwyn felt her cheeks colour as she realized she fell asleep in court. It was her good fortune that she took her seat in a back corner, where not many people would have seen her doze. Looking down, she realized she was wearing the same shawl that was carried by the wind. She was not sure if the boy in her dream fell or flew. And he never tripped at all in the first place, she thought angrily, but she took off her shawl nonetheless. She shivered slightly, but she did not put it back on.

Ledwyn again fell into step with the household routine, doing what she did everyday. When Lady Saeryn asked her to check on Wilheard, she obliged silently. The young man was asleep, his brow still feverish. It was just as well, for Ledwyn had little love for him and had no wish to speak, but she fixed his covers and left a cup of brewed herbs on a nearby chest for when he would wake.

She just began to clean a pot in the kitchen when she heard a shrill whistle. She put the pot away and stepped outside to hear the announcement. She saw Kara beside her wrinkle her face in distaste, and heard a few not too kind things among the mutterings of the men, but some sour jokes too. She didn't feel either way. What ought to be done must be done, however little you like it, so there is no advantage to disliking it. That was how her life always worked.

She asked Kara if she may borrow her spare shawl to go outside. Kara nodded impatiently, and Ledwyn walked briskly to the women's room to get it before stepping outside into the rain.

[littlemanpoet]

Garreth and Harreld came from the armory to find a crowd gathered near the dung pit on a patch of ground still above the flood. Eodwine was walking the perimeter. They had found two more shovels, making eight altogether, not nearly enough for this crowd. They came to Eodwine and told him the bad news.

He nodded grimly. "You two go back to the smithy and make two dozen shovels. They need not be pretty nor refined, just useful for slinging dung and dirt. I care not what you use to make them. I want them made before supper."

They looked at each other, hearts sinking, for that would usually be a three day project, and to make shovels that fast meant cutting corners. Shovels they would be, but unpretty things still looking like what they had been before. "We will need two people to handle the blower and to fetch for us."

"Take whom you will."

They headed into the crowd, Eodwine overhearing Garreth mutter to Harreld, "No women."

He went to the bedraggled gathering. "We have only eight shovels. The smiths will make two dozen more by supper, and the first of them should be ready to use as soon as they are made; I care not whether the dung steams on your shovel or not. In the meantime, gather whatever scrap of flat anything you can find, or use your hands if you must, because a trench must be dug. I will show you where." The folk looked at him in dumb and unwilling disbelief. "If we do not do this, we will sicken and have death among us in a matter of days! Go find some tool if you will not work with your hands. Now!"

The crowd broke apart into scurrying groups, except for eight men wielding the prized shovels.

"I will show you where to start digging."

[Firefoot]

Scyld by chance had been standing near the shovels when Eodwine made his pronouncement, and he was not shy about taking one. The thought did briefly cross his mind to return to the Hall with only the pretense of finding something else to dig with, but he could only hide out for so long. If he was to dig he would rather have a proper shovel.

He followed Eodwine, sinking up to his ankles in mud and worse things. At the designated area, he set his spade to the earth. It dug in easily to the soft earth, but he felt the strain in his back when he tried to lift the first shovelful of heavy wet earth. Smaller scoops, then. The hole seemed to fill immediately with water.

Scoop after scoop and he felt as though he was hardly accomplishing anything. He tried to ignore the smell, the soaking rain, and the grime that was slowly coating his clothes and exposed skin.