Waelden

I am tired. I grow frailer by the day.

Not devastatingly so. Nay, the weakening moves in small steps. But something I find normal one day, may be more exhausting the next; may be undoable the following week. 

There was an ominous aura of melancholy on the streets of Bancross in the days after the battle. The worried faces and itching sword-arms had been quietly replaced by tear-filled eyes, hunched backs and feet dragging on the ground behind them. While our dead could be counted in a handful, the pained and wounded were more plentiful; some with missing limbs, while others got away with only deep cuts and bruises. The east-borne enemy had not fared as well.

We said farewell to our kinsmen last night with the lighting of pyres in the center of the village near the mead-hall. I knew some of the fallen by name and face, but not intimately. I feel selfish for being thankful for this. Others are heartbroken. And while I have had my share of being broken with grief, I still can't muster a good reason why I should not suffer as they do.

Foolish thoughts, I know. 

It is time to move on from the battle, for all of Bancross. 

It is time for me to set in motion those actions that will see my village regain its grasp on a normal, everyday life. 

Continued from A prelude to war - Part I

And so it would come at last to the village of Bancross; a battle borne on wicked feet, crowned with curved swords and jagged spears. A small but bitter taste of the on-going war reached this quiet gathering of homesteads on the plains not far from Edoras. 

((The kin members do not feel happy continuing writing the series of battles in this planned story line at the moment, due to world events. This is a short winding up of the tale so far. Others may post their summary as well. Further writing after the summaries will focus on more peaceful matters. ))