T'was a long night in Stangard, night before a battle and the Mead-hall of the village was full with bold-hearted Eorlings, from son to father and warrior to herdsman. They were invited by Dryhten. Bards were singing their songs of war and ancestors and playing on gilded lyres. The tables were lined with food and the pig roast turned over the pit, its juices falling into the fire with a sizzle. There was people sitting, standing, in corners and among the open spaces. Not a single space was empty.
Returned warrior at his side, Cynebur yelled ''Ho! Hwæt! Æthelwigend secgan.''
And the room went silent.
Régnwald rose, and he found himself a bit emotional. His gaze drifted over the gathered people as his word-hoard unclocked:
''Some of you here are old enough to remember, in days long sped, what honor the old éoreds won in the north, Eorlsmead. I and my éored, these others with me made up their own minds, we mean to put an end to this and defeat the Swarthy men in the coming assault --
''As Stanric vowed...'' a loud mutter came from the depths of the hall.
''Unferth!'' shouted an elderly man, moving his hand to his weapon.
''By your will, ealdorman... we're wiser in knowing the hearts of those tangled with the enemy.'' spoke Régnwald with a firm, solemn air about him, eyes hardened.
Unferth continued, wandering his gaze around faces to feed their enthusiasm ''The Easterlings broke down these walls with three éoreds sleeping inside. What gives a hundred-manned éored from the Wold better hope?''
After a moment, as the herdsman's words sunk in, Régnwald stared hard and said
''We won't be sleeping.''
''No -- more likely bragging of your fights with my goat-herd.''
A coldness swept through the room, Hondscioh rose, livid, glaring at Unferth.
''If you don't know what this man has done, you'll shut your hole or have it shut for you. If you do know, then so much worse!''
Régnwald would speak then ''So, friend -- unscathed amidst all this death,''
Unferth got a wild look, rose from his seat, hand reaching to his sword-hilt. But just as suddenly Ruscbald rose, pulling him back, this time with fury.
''UNFERTH! ...You're my friend, please sit ...or see your guts in a dish.''
Unferth looked suddenly puzzled, the ale fogging his head, finally he sat.
Ruscbald eyed Régnwald, struggling for focus. ''Forgive us forgetting the ways of kin, lord.''
Régnwald eyed the large man a beat, before bowing his head briefly. His gaze drifted to eorlings gathered around the large fire, wayward flames dancing with sound of crickets. He firmed his jaw and continued:
''With first light, the women and children should gather what belongings they can carry, and go to the woods from the north-gate.''
''We're not going anywhere!'' a soft, woman voice complained.
''I know you want to help, and you already have. You can't stay here, it's too dangerous.''
''The women have as much right to fight for their lives as the men do!''
Another woman stepped forward ''The more of us are here, the better chance we stand!''
Régnwald cast his eyes to fire then spoke thereafter, his voice strong with something akin to pride.
''This is your home. If you want to fight to defend it, that's your choice. I shall be honored to stand alongside you. The swarthy men attack tomorrow, they're brutal... But you're not fighting because someone's ordering you to. You're fighting for so much more than that. You fight for your homes. You fight for your family. You fight for your friends. You fight for the right to grow crops and herd your cattle in peace. And if we fall, we fall fighting for the noblest of causes... Forth Stangard; Forth Eorlingas!''
The warriors, shield-maidens, fyrdsmen and women all rose with swords raised.
''Forth Eorlingas, forth Stangard! Stangard! Stangard! Stangard! Stangard!''
One of the poets rose then, singing boldly such in the manner of his kin.
''Cattle die, | and kinsmen die,
And so one dies one's self;
But a noble name | will never die,
If good renown one gets.
Cattle die, | and kinsmen die,
And so one dies one's self;
One thing now | that never dies,
The fame of a dead man's deeds.''
Poem: Poetic Edda
Gif: http://www.beowulfandgrendel.com/
