Hard Winters RPG

[Folwren]

Saeryn turned and watched Rowenna go, wondering at the change in her. She turned away again, shaking her head slowly. She was sorrowed to see Rowenna react so, but she thought that soon things would settle into their old way. They were both tired. A meal and a night’s rest would work wonders, she had little doubt.

In a moment, she joined Eodwine at the head table. She quietly slid into the chair beside him and drew a deep sigh. For the first time in hours, she felt herself relax. She shut her eyes a moment, too tired to take up her spoon and begin eating. With a shake, she roused herself and sat up and reached for the bowl that someone, she was not sure who, had placed there in expectation of her arrival.

---

Javan

“No,” Cerwyn said in reply to Javan’s question. “He’ll be quite mad when he finds I’ve gone, if he hasn’t heard already. So maybe you’ve not got the corner of roguishness at this table.”

Javan laughed a little in politeness, but his curiosity was piqued again, and after an appropriate pause, he asked, “What do you mean, if he hasn’t heard already? Don’t you see him every day? I mean, if any of us up and disappeared one day, someone would be sure to notice right away.”

Just as he finished, and before Cerwyn could begin answering, Léof sauntered up. Javan glanced up at him, and then down at Cerwyn. Quickly, he looked away and slid down the bench, making room for Léof between himself and Cerwyn.

“Come to join us, Léof?” he asked, slapping the space on the bench.

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine watched Saeryn come to the table. She looked tired. He had told her to come when she could. Maybe he should have said ‘come the first moment you can.’ Maybe that would have made a difference. She sat next to him, breathed a huge sigh, and with it let all manner of tightness release from her body. He was glad for her that such a move was all she needed. For his part, he felt the tightness in his head, in his chest, and in his gut as well. She picked up a spoon and tried her soup.

“How is the soup?”

“Oh,” Saeryn said, at first. She had not taken any notice. She looked down at it. “Alright, I guess,” she said. “Come spring, there will be fresh herbs to put in. I hope you enjoyed yours, though,” she said, looking up and giving a small smile “At least it is something hot.”

Maybe there would be fresh herbs this spring, if the rains would stop. If? It seemed that it had rained for weeks without let up, and it was beginning to seem uncanny.

“You have been very busy since I asked you to come sit with me.” Eodwine leaned on the table, staring at nothing across the hall, and said no more. He did not know quite how to say what was in his thought.

“Yes,” Saeryn said, resuming her meal. “There were many folk to be fed.” She chose not to speak of her quarrel. It seemed useless to pull him into this trouble.

Eodwine, he said to himself, out with it. “You need to stay above the challenges and quarrels.”

So he had noticed it anyway. She did not look up from her bowl and took another bite before responding. “How am I supposed to run the household if I stay above the challenges, then?” she asked finally.

“You run the household by staying above the challenges. Never make the challenges battles of will. You have all the advantage of your place. You’ll be fine. These kinds of things are needed to refine the gold. It’s not why I asked you to come to me, though. Of course not, since I asked you before that happened.” He let out an involuntary huff of an ironic chuckle.
“Here I am advising you. I wanted to tell you how I feel very much ill suited to Eorldom.”

Saeryn looked up sharply. “Why?” she asked. “Others, including the king, have found you suited for it. Why do you feel otherwise?”

He shrugged. “Who can put why to feelings? It’s a mood. It will pass.” He knew that he was reassuring her but he did not think that it was worth pursuing; he did not think to ask himself why not.



Saeryn forced herself to give pause and wait before answering. She looked at him in silence, thinking that if it was a mood, and if he knew it would pass, why let it trouble him? As a woman, she had learned to ignore passing feelings and carry on. Clearly, her first response would be of no aid to him. She tried to think of something more useful.

“It is certain things have been hard here of late, Eodwine, but it is not due to your lack of leadership. Nothing that has happened is your fault.”

He smiled half heartedly. “I have not been doing my best. So it goes. I think I am being hard on myself after a difficult day.” He stretched. “I think that I do not need so much talk as time with my wife. I am tired. If you have more to do, of course go do it, but I think I am ready to turn in. Please do not linger about your tasks too long.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently rubbed a knotted muscle he found there.

The temptation came suddenly to Saeryn to abandon all of her duties and go with her husband this moment. Rowenna would take the slack without a word, she thought. She smiled and then dismissed the thought. She dipped her head and let it rest just a moment on Eodwine’s shoulder.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she promised.

[Firefoot]

Being already familiar with Javan's story, Léof paid little attention to it. Instead, he was wondering what she and Javan had been discussing before, and whether she was actually being short with him and if so why. He couldn't think of anything.

Cerwyn was intrigued by Javan's story, even more so than after hearing Scyld's testimony earlier that afternoon. Javan's version was still lacking in details, but maybe Balan might make a good story of it - if she saw him later she'd mention it. After all, there was action, betrayal, romance... or so she imagined. Why else would the henchman turn on the evil lord to rescue the beautiful noblewoman? (Again, her imagining - no one had told her what the woman looked like.) Maybe she would ask him. She felt tingles down her back, fascinated and nervous at the idea of meeting a true-life villain-turned-hero.

She was pulled from this thrilling line of thought by Javan's question, and forced once again to consider her own predicament. "I've not decided yet," she said. "Everyone I've met has been so kind and welcoming. I think I just need some time..." to figure out where I'm wanted, needed, loved... "To figure out where I fit, if that makes sense."

"Well, there'll be plenty of time for that," said Léof. "With the weather as it is, no one is going anywhere for a few days at least. It's been a long day; maybe things will seem clearer in the morning. I'm heading to bed." He stood. "It's good to have you here, Cerwyn. We'll talk more in the morning."

"Good night, Léof," she said, the edge of her anger blunted. He left, and she turned to Javan. "He's right; it is getting late, and I probably ought to help clear the dishes. It's the least I can do, since all I did was watch the stew while the rest of you did the dirty work today."

[littlemanpoet]

Rowenna could not sleep. She tossed and turned on her straw mattress. She was surprised that all her movements didn't waken any of the others. She turned over one last time and closed her eyes, trying to focus on the swirling specks; it usually lulled her to sleep. They were all going straight down, just like the insufferable rains.

It was not use. She sat up. She heard water moving. Of course, she heard water running. The rain was beating on the roof. But this was a different sound, like a stream. Maybe there was a stream of water forming outside where it dripped off the roof more than elsewhere.

She got up and walked across the damp thresh that covered the floor. She lit a candle then opened the door to the hall. The sound of flowing water was louder now. She stepped into the hall. Her foot came down in cold water, an inch deep. Had someone spilled something? Was there a leak in the kitchen?

She went into the kitchen, but the water became more shallow that way. She turned around and went to the outside door. The water deepened. She got to the door. A stream of water was coming in through the door. It occurred to her in half a thought that it might not be a good idea to open the door, but her hand went to it anyway and opened it. A stream of water washed over her feet, more than ankle high, into the hall. She was about to call out the alarm, but thought first to look outside.

The whole Scarburg's lands were gone. In their place was a lake, and it was rising.

She grabbed for the door and had to fight with all her might to close it against the flood. She turned and ran to the men's quarters first.

She knocked and knocked, crying, "Wake! Wake! We are flooded! Wake!"

[Firefoot]

In his dreams, Léof was still drenched with rain water. He roused slowly from a deep sleep, at first unsure of why he had woken. Then he realized: the wetness was not a dream. His hand had slipped off of his pallet and the end of his sleeve was soaked through.

But why is the floor wet? he wondered muzzily.

The stables were flooded! The realization brought him to full wakefulness. He leapt up and stuffed his now-wet feet into his boots. He dashed out into the main aisle of stable to find the floor covered by at least an inch of water. He splashed out to the courtyard and up to the Hall only to find that it too was flooding and its folk were already rousing.

He did not see Eodwine yet, but Thornden was standing near the fireplace. Léof approached him and said, "The stables are flooding too. Worse, maybe, than in here."

[littlemanpoet]

Eodwine was wakened by the ruckus. He leaned up on his elbows. Saeryn was stirring. What was he hearing? He focused. Wake! Wake! We are flooded! Wake! Maybe he was just dreaming. He shook the cobwebs loose in his mind. No, it was no dream. He could hear the furious knocking. Was it the middle of the night? It must be. He groaned and got out of bed.

Oh no.

The floor was covered in water. He pulled a face. Disgusting. It was probably very dirty water. How could this be! They had just gotten done digging a very good trench! He pulled on his briefs, threw on a tunic, and hurried to the hall.

Thornden was up and dressed already.

"How bad is the flooding?"

The whole of Scarburg is a lake," Thornden replied. "What shall we do?"

Eodwine sighed and his shoulders slumped. He hated this. It would have to be his decision, and the lives of all of these people depended on him. This was what he could not tell Saeryn: he was terrified of making decisions that would go wrong or be not enough in the end, for lack of foresight or what have you. He searched through his harried mind for anything that might help. Everything was wet. What was not? The roof of the hall was wet, but it would not be enveloped in the flood. Move everyone to the roof? It seemed ridiculous. The scar was above it all, too.

"Thornden, what do we have to use to keep people dry if we can get them to a place that will not be flooded?"

[Folwren]

As Thornden threw on his clothes, his mind worked with the questions of where the water was coming and how quickly it was rising. He also thought of the food, so recently brought here, and so easily ruined if reached by water. He paid no mind to the men’s talk as he finished dressing and waded his way to the great hall. Someone asked him what he should do, but Thornden didn’t know yet. He told him to follow.

Out in the great hall, Léof met him almost at once.

“The stables are flooding, too, worse maybe than here.”

“I have not even looked outside,” Thornden answered. “What is it like?”

Léof described the scene. Rowenna approached as they spoke, and she reiterated what Léof had said – the entire place was flooded, and the water was rising.

“Don’t let the horses go yet,” he said. “Put the halters on them, so that those who can may be able to ride. Let the foals and any you have that cannot be ridden loose at once. Maybe they can find higher ground.”

As Léof departed, Eodwine approached Thornden from the other side. “How bad is the flooding?”

“Léof tells me the whole of Scarburg is a lake,” Thornden said, turning at once. “What shall we do?”

He saw Eodwine’s shoulder’s slump, and for a second, Thornden remembered that Eodwine was older than he, and these constant setbacks were becoming more and more difficult for him to surmount. He regretted asking the question and reproved himself for not having come up with something before Eodwine arrived.

“Thornden, what do we have to use to keep people dry if we can get them to a place that will not be flooded?”

Thornden reflected quickly. His earlier thoughts of food availed him, and he said almost without hesitation, “The caravan came with tarps over the wagons. Those are well oiled and tarred and will keep some people dry. If the water is not too high, we should try to use the wagons, fill them with the youngsters and with some food, and try to pull them out.”