Ceolswith

The coming dawn had painted the sky into a crimson splendour albeit still it was dark, and a gust of chilly wind entered through the cave the Eorlings camped in. As Régnwald reached the entrance, he hailed the guards and exchanged a few words with them. The night watch always had a fire running just outside the cave, and there were still red glowing embers shining brightly in the midst of the ashes. There were also plenty of dry firewood left, so he sat down by the fire and carefully placed a few smaller twigs and logs in the midst of the still glowing embers.

The first horns had sounded, what seemed, a long time ago. Ceolswith and some of the remaining men protecting the Eastern Gate had fled to the Western Gate. She could see Cynebur and another gathering of warriors trying to protect the ceorlfolc as they fled. Soon, she watches Cynebur fall back, calling out for everyone to leave. Ceolswith helped with getting the retreating warriors out of the gate, but notices that the miner, Ruscbald is heading back into the fray. She bolts after him, Cynebur shouting at her to come back.

Régnwald walked to a high ground to better see the settled camp in the cave, looking toward the loose collection of tents until he spotted Cynebur. First he hesitated to approach, but then he broke that quiet ''You couldn't sleep just like me?'' his pale eyes brimmed with the air of an answer already known.

Cynebur stayed alerted while keeping guard at inner side of the cave, her shield was limply held with left arm and her other hand was resting on hilt of her sword. Shieldmaiden kept her eyes closed as if she was resting while standing.

She rode toward the gates with last light of sun that was traveling behind the Misty Mountains and Cuthstan. Guard on the doors stopped her, unrelentless to let her in, as at first they didnt recognise her.

- I need to speak with Dryhten or Maegisterwigends. - she spoke as jumping down from her steed, Her heavy chain mail reinforced with plates of iron, clanked loudly 

- Gates are closed, rider. Wait till the dawn. - one of the guards said.

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.