The winter air bit deep in the cliffside burgh, but stout walls and warm hearths did something to keep the west's harsh winds at bay. Folk busied themselves with everyday labour, logs were split, cattle driven and linen washed even in times of strife. The leader of the war-band sat, gazing at his armoured feet that swayed slightly from the edge of the stone fence.
Niehstu looked at the grim faces around her, she approached the old man Stelimund and nodded in greeting giving him a worried look.''Any news yet?''
Stelimund smiled to the girl and shook his head. ''Not yet!''
Régnwald looked up then, a rueful grin spreading across his lips chafed from the cold. "I'm thinking the Reeve takes his time in granting an audience."
Hondscioh would grin quickly as he glanced over at this armored horselord. "'Tis one of his priveleges, at least these folk seem somewhat welcoming while we wait."
Niehstu said, 'Some good lady made stew for us yesterday! She and her husband they both said they hope we can stay...'
Stelimund nodded ''That's great! Are you better now then?''
Niehstu nodded quickly and even though her smile lost some of its shine there was more color on her cheeks now she's fed. ''Aye... though... I am not sure if they have enough food to feed us all.''
''Feed us?'' Régnwald asked, a quick brow lifted, eyes glistening.
Niehstu tensed suddenly as she heard Régnwald's voice. Her first impulse was to go hide behind the old man, but she had to keep her ground now.
Cynebur paced over the frost, back and forth, her features uncovered the worried frost upon her, making her gaze colder then ever before. "He does take his time.. He didn't even receive me to the hall of the past few days, and two of his advisors pulled me on chair for few times already, seeking a lie and dishonesty in my words."
Régnwald sighed, flicking a piece of loose masonry and watching it skittering across the stonework to be lost upon the square's snowy ground. He would rise tall then, wandering his eyes among the gathered "The hour grows late, my friends, and if we are to be turned onto our arses, then I'd sooner it happen while we have some light."
A man in the heraldry of Forlaw would stride toward them. His manner was patient but not overly kind. Gold clung to his throat as a badge of office. "The Reeve." The unnamed man spoke in a high, clear tone. "Will receive you now."
Cynebur glanced to Régnwald then the others. "Well let's not keep the Reeve waiting."
Awilred waited by the post, watching the band as they would depart.
Régnwald nodded once then his gaze was swung to the tall herald, a thin smile of relief plastered across a tired face. "Thank you." He merely said and turned to look among the war-band and ceorl. "Come now." He beckoned those gathered "The Reeve awaits."
Niehstu lowered her voice to murmur to Stelimund as they moved onward "Did I say something wrong?"
Stelimund whispered to Niehstu. ''You didn't.''
Erlene, the barber maiden, a local of Forlaw said lowly to her husband, ''I guess that's them?''
Egilfrid halted in his step as he saw the band approaching, hastily making way. He casted a glance toward Erlene then nodded briskly.
Cynebur nodded to barber hælfdige and her husband while Niehstu turned to admire the view, having to quicken her step after to catch up. On her way she waved cheerfully to the couple.
Awilred waited by the torch in an attempt to glean some warmth from it.
Egilfrid held back to allow the band passage, and as they did, he slowly went after them, curious of what is going on as her wife, Erlene kept close to the edge to make way for the approaching band, curiously watching after them.
Cynebur didn't wait for moment longer, on her way to the great hall upon tall island, her heart filled with childish joy. Her hand went over the fence as walking. She was at her home.
As the tall, well-dressed man moved back to the winding paths and high bridge that led toward the hall, the scruffy, fur-clad warrior with his grey byrnie — ring-shirt followed. But the bright helmet guarded his head, one surrounded with splendid bands, patterns of gold as the weapon-smith made it in far-off days, fashioned it, set it about with boar-images so that thereafter no sword or war-blade might bite into it.
The tall herald of Reeve slowed his pace to a halt by the gate of the mead-hall, turning to the group he would speak at length "To you this message my lord sends, that your folk he knows, hardy folk, and hails you all. Ye may wend your way in war-attire, and under helmets, but let here the battle-shields bide your parley, and wooden war-shafts wait its end."
''As you wish.'' replied the young earl.
Then he would glance to the group over his shoulder, gesturing them to do as he says.
Niehstu looked to the people around her uneasily not much sure of what she's supposed to do.
Stelimund got close to the girl and whispered to her. ''Your weapons.''
Cynebur untied the bond of her daggers leather sheath, carved with boar heads and wheat grass. She offered the dagger to the guard without word. "Unsheath it not, it is Deorcblot, unsheated only for blood of warg."
Niehstu started unstrapping her weapons, feeling her heart beat as her chest, hoping she wouldn't be doing anything embarrassing. She held them all after in a small bundle and looked around for a place to put them.
Régnwald handed him his war-sword — some rare and ancient piece with ill-boding patterns, old heirloom, grey but gleaming, known in the times as Nægling and his dagger, gift of Harding thane in good days. As the moment passed, drawing in a long breath, he would stride into Gárwig's hall.
