The journey through Eregion was quiet, the land full of rolling hills and dry creek beds, clusters of holly trees giving the area the name, Hollin. Ancient elvish ruins dotted the landscape as they rode along the faint path, dust kicking up under the hooves of the big brown horse.
The pair slept one night in a large ornate ruins near the river they would cross to enter more familiar lands. They were awoken by the sound of an arrow clattering against stone and the sound of melodic laughter. Pren bolted up, axe in hand but could not hope to catch the faint shape of the dancing elf who loosed arrows. Only a tall vague form touched with star light could be seen but the warning was clear, the spirits would not tolerate the presence of the traveling Dunlendings. They moved out quickly the next morning, passing a ford in the river to arrive in the lands of the Huntsman, the home of the Derudh.
Another hot afternoon in Enedwaith, seeming usual to the Algraig who wandered about the village doing their usual business. The large wooden gates stood open, with a few horses outside as well as a single guard with a club. The pair approached up the winding path of the hill the large village sat upon behind a sturdy stockade.
Pren was dressed in the heavy bulky bear hide across his broad shoulders, the helm pulled low over his red ochre painted face. The bear's sightless eyes glared at the guard at the gate and the man looked around Gwennol's head to stare at the large warrior. The horse stopped just before the gate as the guard went inside. People started to come to the gate, standing on the side of the path to look at the two travelers. Some squinted in anger as they saw Pren, others looked in confusion as they saw him next to Gwennol who was clearly one of the Derudh. Her robes and rune carved staff marked her as one, even if she did not have the tattoo.
Gwennol held onto the horse's mane, taking comfort in Pren's solid mass behind her. She looked down at the Algraig, men and women exiled from their Ox Clan. She held her head up, her face stoic and blank as she waited for their response to their arrival.
Pren hopped off the horse, his hands held outwards to help Gwennol down but his eyes are still kept on those gathered. The crowd mutter to each other, a group of men leaning at the edge of the building muttering and cursing the most.
Gwennol took his hand, sliding from the great steed and she kept her balance, surrepitously touching her chest to make sure the kitten was secure and it rattled her amulets. One man among the group stared hard at Pren, stepping away, walking casually to the side, but his dark eyes never left the big man's face. He was nearly as tall but not as broad as Pren but he moved with the grace of a predator. A scar ran down his cheek and jaw, disfiguring a once handsome face. He glared at Pren, hardly looking at Gwen or anyone else.
Pren flashed his teeth in a snarl to the man, broadening his chest outwards as he went to hold onto Gwen's arm and lead her forward. "Come. And stay close." He started to walk upwards, his eyes kept on the man before his glare turns else where.
Gwennol moved with him, her gaze catching the scarred man's anger. A woman watched, her long dark hair falling down her back, her eyes on Pren she smirked a bit before turning and heading towards the Brenin's hut to alert him of the new comers. Gwennol leaned over and whispered, "You know that man?"
Pren spoke out in his usual deep voice, speaking loudly and threateningly to the others. "I know them all. Not by name. Not by face. But I know them and they know me."
Gwennol moved closer to him, her slight figure hidden behind his bulk. The scarred man moved closer to the gate, his weapons hanging from a thick leather belt, a hand axe and long knife. He continued to stare at Pren and then spat down on the ground between them. The crowd parted as the woman returned, her lovely face proud and stern, a keen dagger at her waist.
"The Brenin will meet with you, Pren. Your name is not unknown here," she said, glancing at the scarred man who gave her a look before turning back to keep his eye on Pren. The woman held up her hand, welcoming them in, "Nor is it very loved."
Pren rolled his shoulders as the man spat, his hand moving to his axe and he drew it. Holding it tightly in his hand as he gave a threatening glare to the man, perhaps Pren's blood-thirsty attitude would become evident to this man as he snarled out. "I know it is not a loved name. For I do not want it to be a loved name among Algraig."
He growled out sending a final glare to the man before he started to walk upwards, taking strong strides and puffing himself out to look the biggest that Gwennol had seen him. Each of his muscles in his arms tensed as he silently threatened everyone with glares along the way, showing he was the stronger one.
Gwennol clutched at him, willing him to keep his temper. The scarred man kept his place, the woman shot him a warning look, "They are guests of Glynn Brenin now, no harm comes to them." At Pren's bristling gesture, the people backed away, clearing a path.
The big warrior walked forward some more, remaining standing strong and with his axe in his hand. He muttered to Gwennol. "Give me the kitten."
She looked up at him but obeyed, fishing out the lynx kitten and handed him over. A few whispers and strange looks followed them, wondering at the sanity of someone to keep a wild creature so close.
Pren took the kitten in his spare hand before he gently put it underneath the furs against his neck and chest, it in a little dip but covered well apart from a paw sticking out. He then moved forward again, heading into the Brenin's hall with his eyes still on the others about.
Gwennol smiled slightly at his action, the kitten mewling at being disturbed but settled and curled up in the warmth of the fur. As they entered the large hut, the dark haired woman followed them silently, her eyes flicking between the odd couple. Inside, the fire burned, the smoke curled up at the ceiling, leaking out of the vents in the thatched roof. There are a few men near Glynn Brenin all of them look up at the pair. The Brenin stood, his stocky figure draped in heavy fur and hide robes, his deep set eyes immediately sizing them up, peering sharply from behind the black smear of paint. He stepped forward, beckoning them in.
Pren moved a hand to take hold of Gwennol's fore arm as he moved down, putting his axe away as he got closer to the Brenin before he stopped and bowed his head. "Gylnn Brenin."
The man's figure was broad and stout, though he was a head shorter than Pren. His bulky form made more imposing but the heavy fur mantle and ox horns affixed to his cloak, pointed upward. "You are the warrior called Pren," he stated rather than asked, the man's great height there was no mistaking the appropriate nickname. "By the laws of hospitality, you are our guest."
Pren nodded his head slowly, "That I am. Pren Rhyfelwr." His eyes kept on the man and no where else right now, he then gestured to the young woman next to him,"And this is Gwennol. My woman. Another guest of yours."
The Brenin turned his dark gaze to her, looking her over and he looked over the small woman, noting the amulets and pouches. "You are Derudh?"
Gwennol nodded in return, "I am an alcolyte of Ffion, Old Lady of the Woods."
He seemed to recognize the name, his eyes widening slightly and said, "Take care, young Derudh, there are some among the Algraig that have lost their faith with the deaths of so many."
Pren took a look about at any who gathered in the hall, his eyes turning into a glare on some as he pushed back his bear hood.
Gwennol gazed up at him, recalling Pren's words how the Derudh ordered the death of tribes refusing to aid the Old Man, according to Rhi Helvarch's will. "I have no fear, I am a servant of Rhi Helvarch and under the protection of the mighty warrior, Pren Rhyfelwr. I have little to fear from any man." Her voice was calm, smoke soft and low pitched but firm.
The Brenin grinned under his under his dark beard. "So you are. You both will join me in a meal, but first Brisen, she will show your quarters." The dark haired woman stood waiting when they were ready.
