Continuation of: Tales of Their Past - Wind in the Meadow
The noises of footsteps on dirt crunched into the ears of Meadred's sons and killed their testosterone-fueled banter. Looking over their shoulders they beheld Meadowyn's coming, but their sudden silence was cause for suspicion. "What are you two doing?" She asked as she approached the fencing.
"Talking," Meadwine said, quick to defend.
"We were speaking of the improvements that I have made in my swordplay," Aegaldred added quite confidently, he was a quick liar and Meadwine gave him a brief look in regards to that. Enthusiasm took Meadowyn and she did not suspect the untruthfulness, "truly?" She said. "Then perhaps you and I can practice ere the night falls at the end of the day." Then Meadwine was glad for his brother's choice of a lie, for he wished to speak against the nature of the lie but did not wish to be caught as a part of the lie; his brother subtly cornered him into passivity and he now hoped that Aegaldred would suffer it. "Certainly!" Aegaldred said in mock-enthusiasm toned determination. Still, Meadowyn suspected naught, despite her eagerness to see Aegaldred grow stronger. She went to the fencing and leaned against it, beside the two brothers, the morning sun shone on their brow and a soft breeze was in their hair.
"Has father come yet?" Meadowyn asked. For indeed their father had sent word that he would be taking short leave of his duties to the lords of their land and see his family for a time. "Nay," Aegaldred was first to speak, for it was he who was most excited. "Not yet." He finished.
"He shall be here ere the morning's end," Meadowyn said, she was certain. However, Meadwine would say naught on the subject; perhaps it was merely his apathetic nature. "I hope so," Aegaldred said with a sigh, drawing a look from Meadowyn. "He will," she assured, "And you will show him what you have learnt." Now Aegaldred was caught off-guard at the thought and Meadwine would make it no better: "Yea, brother," he began. "Show him what you have learnt in your swordplay, I am certain that father would be proud."
The look on Aegaldred's face twisted darkly for a brief moment, yet he thought to restrain his ire, even if his his hands were grasping tightly unto the wooden fence. "What is it?" Meadowyn asked and looked to Meadwine with suspicion and agitation, now it was more than a gut feeling which told her that there was something amiss.
"Naught,"
"Naught," Both Aegaldred and Meadwine said simultaneously; they would both defend the lie that was already started, even if the lie was guarding a small truth of no significance. Meadowyn rolled her eyes and thought that her attention was better given to her surroundings, the Grimslade and her townsfolk passing back and forth down the road on their daily errands. The sounds of the Smithy bringing his hammer down unto the steel pierced the air, but a peculiar sound found their ears: the clucking of a chicken. Meadowyn frowned in some bafflement as she sought wherefrom the noise came, Aegaldred too. Meadwine was all too apathetic.
And there it was: the chicken was roaming down the streets all on its own, passing by Meadred's home as it pecked at the ground. "Cercil's chicken has gotten loose again!" Meadowyn said as she watched it roaming about. "Truly?" Aegaldred asked, also gazing upon the chicken. "How do you know that it is his?"
"He has the fattest chicken in town," Meadowyn said, not taking her eyes away from it. "Then why has he not yet slaughtered it?" Meadwine asked, he was a typical man and a chicken only brought typical thoughts to his mind: food. "Nay!" Meadowyn said as she pushed herself off of the fencing, "perhaps it is queer, but the man loves his chicken if you had not noticed." Those words encouraged childish chuckles and snickers from Meadred's sons at the oddity, they were amused. "Truly?" Aegaldred began, "Now I understand why it seeks to escape its cage so much." Meadwine found amusement, but Meadowyn looked to find none. "Harsh, brother, harsh," She said. "Know the tales ere you mock the men in it."
Meadwine gave Aegaldred and amused look, but Meadowyn went on her course: she stepped beyond the confines of the fencing and slowly moved in a crouch towards the chicken, moving to catch it off-guard and not cause it to flee in fright.
"What tale?" Aegaldred asked softly.
"None that I know of." Meadwine said, "but certainly a man in love with a chicken is no grand tale, even if it should not sound much as the tales that we are accustomed to."
"Yea," Aegaldred agreed. "Perhaps the man's beloved had given him a kiss, and perhaps they had married by the end of it."
Ignoring her brothers' laughter, Meadowyn hoped forth and she caught the chicken in her hands. The chicken squirmed and clucked desperately, but she would not release its feathery sides. "Ha!" She cheered to herself, then looking to her brothers she spoke: "I shall return soon." And with those words she turned and made her way down the street with Aegaldred and Meadwine watching her back.
Continuation: Tales of Their Past - Diverted
