T'was a quiet morning in Grimslade. The folk who took residence in the town had already begun their work for the day, livening the streets with busy chatter and labour as they carried out their morning errands. The sun hung over the eastern horizon and shed light upon the fields of the Riddermark, casting shadows where there are trees, wherein birds sang their hearty songs; homes, where mothers fed their children; and mountains, of which many a tale tells of.
The smithy's hammer fell upon the heated steel between an anvil as the farmer's hoe dug into the soil. Swords clattered together in the yard of Meadred's home as two young men took arms against one another in practice. Their long flaxen locks swung and swayed as they moved at each other, but the shorter man was on the retreat as he ever seemed to be. The taller and broader pressed at his younger brother who could not long withstand the assailment of his elder.
"You have me!" Aegaldred said as his back came nigh the fencing that bordered the yard of Meadred's home. There was sweat on his sun-tanned brow.
The elder brother relented and drew back, his weapon he lowered when he spoke out. "You lack strength in your arms," Meadwine said. Aegaldred drew a laboured breath and gazed upon the limb, there were strong muscles, but comparing that strength of his to that of his elder brother was cruel.
"Meadwine," Aegaldred spoke, but breathlessness hindered them for a short while: "what would you have me do?" He asked, and in his voice there was pleading.
However, desperation would not turn Meadwine's heart soft. "Spend less time among women," he said in a firm tone, "for you are becoming one; soft in body and mind."
Aegaldred was weary of the matter and found little wisdom in Meadwine's words. A mere head shake was breathed of his apathy and he rested against the fencing as he retreated to his thoughts of self-consciousness, seen even in his lowered eyes. Meadwine sheathed his weapon with a hiss of his steel. "Even now you surrender too easily," Meadwine said in disdain. "Strength shall not come to you if you hinder yourself, for that is the only way that you shall find it; by pursuing it through your own will."
Aegaldred had already surrendered, he had little will to oppose his brother's words, for he knew that he would find no victory there. Instead they took respite on their feet and beheld their surroundings: townsfolk went by their home and those who noticed the brothers offered friendly greetings. There were few who did so, even those whose faces they recalled but knew little of.
It was then when a farmer who owned land within the Westmark came into town with a pack mule that tugged his cart of vegetables. He came to offer his produce, but he was not alone as he guided the mule down the road along Meadred's house, but also in the company of his flaxen-haired daughter. Now, that was how Aegaldred remembered that farmer, for it was the man's daughter that he was more familiar with. Recognizing her, Aegaldred turned around and leaned his weight onto the fence. With a wave of his hand and a smile on his lips he offered her a silent greeting. It was met with naught but a smile as the young blonde maiden went by, her father waved to greet the sons of Meadred.
Aegaldred kept watching as the two went by, however he was the kind of man whose eyes were loth to resist temptation; therefore the wandered and minded discretion in doing so. For it was not the woman's face that he recognized, nor her name as well as he did her body.
Meadwine came against the fence and stood beside his younger brother. "Sheath your weapon, brother," Meadwine said, immediately the tension that formed in their earlier discussion had flown away. "She is beyond you," Meadwine finished and he too stole a discreet glance before the farmer and his daughter disappeared around the bend.
"And you think that you are worthy?" Aegaldred asked, he looked to his brother with a smile, and indeed the conversation took a lighthearted nature. "I do," Meadwine said. "However, I am not eager to make a fool of myself, nor do I intend to shame myself further by drawing her father's ire. Such are things better left for you, younger brother."
Aegaldred chuckled, "Truly?" He said, "you have an intricate manner of confessing that you could not conquer her if you tried."
"Ha!" Meadwine started, "I am a man of--" He was disturbed, and his words cut short.
Continuation: Tales of Their Past - Windbreak
