The fire crackled brightly, bathing the room in its light and heat. It seemed to stand a resolute barrier against the bitter fall wind that beat against the windows. Its light flickered wildly across the room, reflecting in all directions off of the blade that lay across Anymer’s knees. He ran his whetstone over the edge over and over, honing it till it was perfectly sharp, perfectly smooth.
“Do you have to do that now?” Fraethwyn looked at him from across the room. Contrary to her words, her eyes bespoke worry, not annoyance. Anymer recognized the look all too well. Strong though she was, or perhaps because of that, it was hard for her to watch her husband put himself in harm’s way. But this was more than that. They had both heard the rumors of Dunlender activity.
“Nah,” he shook his head carelessly, “It was just getting a bit dull. It wouldn’t do for a captain to have a tarnished blade, now would it?”
“You are on the night guard for tonight. I expect that no one will see it.”
“Right you are, of course. Don’t you worry about me, my Frae’. I’ll be home before morning, as I always am.” He stood and brandishing the sword in the firelight, inspected it one more time before sliding it into its sheath. He lay a hand on Fraethwyn’s shoulder and smiled, he couldn’t help it – the woman just made him smile.
“How many night watches have I been on over the years? There’s nothing to fret over.” With that, they kissed tenderly goodnight and he strode out into the dark and cold. Despite his assurances, the night wore on slowly, until he was safely back under his own roof and the dawn’s light had begun to creep into the sky.
