Régnwald blinked rapidly as the dim light, broken only by the two large fire pits at the hall's center, took over from light. At his first step, he gazed into the heavy gloom above the rafters. Carved Mearas reared, nostrils wide, their hooves kicking the open air. They looked down on the war-band, their eyes lit from the pale flame beneath. The Eorling watched them in silent solemnity.
Egilfrid stood back by the parted doorway, making little of his presence as he observed the proceedings ahead as Erlene grabbed Egil's arm and pulled him closer, her voice lowered to a whisper.
Theomyn looked around, admiring how beautiful the hall is and how warm the fires burn.
Niehstu raised her hands to take off her helmet, feeling the hot air of the room on her cheeks. Standing behind Stelimund at first she seemed at ease, before she realized that the Reeve's people were looking at them.
Nodding gingerly toward the high seat of the Reeve, the man strode under mead-hall's roof, hardy 'neath helm, till the hearth he neared. And as the band approached, curious eyes of the local folk followed them like shadows.
Cynebur followed Régnwald by his step, and few of the faces she knew, few faces she found new.
Egilfrid slipped aside to the edges of the hall, blending into the smattering of other locals come to the hall.
Erlene furrowed her brows and watched Egil and then the others. Pulling back her hood she quietly hopped after Egil to keep close.
Approaching the dias, the young earl removed his helm, shaking a pale, shaggy head of hair loose. His byrnie gleamed. Kneeling low, the helm clattered lightly as it was grounded. "Lord Reeve," he regarded him in appreciation for his gratitude, and his word-hoard unclocked:
''Thou Gárwig, hail! I am Régnwald. Of the grim deed you have heard I trust... A massacre! -- We've wandered far, that I alone with my liegemen here. I thank you, for granting us an audience in your hall.''
The Reeve, long of face and old of age as he was moustache, looked down upon the gathered band as one may evaluate a sword from an unknown smith, or more worryingly, cattle at a market. Surrounding the man stood a retinue of advisers who either looked upon the newcomers with scorn, or talked in hushed tones amongst themselves.
Cynebur kneeled in long dress of thick making, colored dark red. Her head was high and she looked toward Reeve of who she admired so many years.
Régnwald glanced back over his shoulder, furrowing his brows upon noticing the rest were standing so far from them. He beckoned them in gestures silently.
Niehstu followed around shyly, holding her helmet in hand. Her eyes met with some of the locals and as a reflex she nodded in greeting and gave them a hopeful if not naive smile.
Finally the nobleman spoke. "Of the fell dead I have heard. Alas I thought 'twas Wyrd's game to bring you thus far into my hall! Come closer, riders of Stangard, I'd hear what else you would speak."
Régnwald approached taking each step with slow deliberate care. He halted, bowing his head once more. Frowning, he shook his head in sorrow. "The Easterlings pressed harder than ever, and dire..." he was cut off by the sound of the Reeve's hand, slapping down upon his carved throne. "I have heard the rumours, and read the reports good riders. So why come here?"
Régnwald glanced among his comrades for the briefest of moments and continued "I implore you, My Lord Reeve, for refuge. But we aren't so fool, nor so disrespectful as to expect help in these troubled times with nothing in return, so..." He gestured about him. ''We are the finest outriders Stangard has to offer, and we are to be put to use against the enemy while the folk of ceorl, non-combatants help you and your people in finding supplies for the long winter.''
Cynebur's eyes braised over to Reeve then back to Régnwald and others. She stood in calm, with short flaxen hair and clear blue eyes. She stood with pride with hands at her front.
Stelimund lowered his head and murmured something.
Gárwig and his motley collection of sycophants and advisors all frowned at that, while peering in eagerly at this curiosity from the northern reaches of the Mark. "Come up then..." the Reeve spoke with a liter tone. "Let's have a look at what you would buy my help with..." He spoke with a chuckle, his mood seemingly lightened.
Awilred slipped in through the door trying not to attract attention, finding a spot out of the way to wait.
Stelimund came closer to the Reeve slowly. He knelt before him and carefully got up. ''My Lord... Stelimund of the Beaconwatch I am, and I'd be grateful if you helped us in our hour of need.''
The Reeve nodded after chewing over the information. ''Well, you're ways from Folde, eh.'' His gaze quickly widened to find another, who slunk beside the elderly man. "And you lady, are a little young and..." he looked her over with the faintest hint of a smile. "And you are a shieldmaiden it seems, is your band so mighty, gently born women are recruited? What is your name?"
Régnwald frowned at that, struggling to mask his thoughts.
Niehstu moved forward to kneel before the Reeve. Getting up she straightened her back. The young woman would seem to have outgrown her armour, taller than before yet her face still carries the innocense of her age. She speaked up as the Reeve commanded.
She shouted, 'Hail my Lord, I am Niehstu daughter of Winfred, of Harwick. My father rode with Reeve Aldor my lord, and now trains his horses. A great warrior he was. And so I shall be too.'
Régnwald gazed at Niehstu with a small hint of admiration in his eyes, though he would not speak of it. As the exchange of words was made, he rubbed his beard lightly, straightening some more.
Cynebur smiled a little to Niehstu and others then faced the Reeve and his men.
After a few nods between Gárwig and his companions, this seemed to be accepted. However one of the companions, a youngster of around eighteen summers did not nod. Well built and fair, he wore his hair scraped pack into a high tail. A richly embroidered tunic hugged his chest, and well made sword at his belt. His most striking feature however, was the scar that ran from the bridge of his nose to his ear across his left cheek.
Gárwig stood now, hand remaining on the chair's high arm. "Well, I do not know what I can do for you, but it is not for me to turn down warriors."
Régnwald let a thin, almost ghost of a smile cross his lips.
The Reeve moved down a step, and as if drawn by an invisible leash, the followers shuffled a step forward. All but the youth, who stopped, staring with a face of thunder. "I cannot offer you much, but rations and a dry bed..." the Reeve spoke, oblivious. "And I cannot under orders allow you to raid too deeply, however I..." The Reeve was cut off, something he was so unused to, he remained silent. It was the scarred youth, who was now red in the face, repeating the accusation that had so rudely cut his lord off. "You, liars!" he half screamed it, moving toward the group.
Régnwald looked back to his companions, lest the Reeve see him pale.
Erlene pressed closer to Egilfrid at the sudden outburst ahead, watching on somewhat nervously.
Egilfrid raised a hand to Erlene's shoulder, his brow raising in surprise at the sudden commotion. He glanced toward the faces between himself then peered forward again, his lips parting in shock at the bout of accusation that followed.
Niehstu gaped at the young man, she puffed up to retort but as Régnwald seemed silent, so remained she. She did take a step closer though, in case there was trouble.
The Reeve turned open mouthed. "Seaxwyrd, what, who?" The nobles mouth worked silently as he failed to find the words he looked for, stumbling upon them finally. "Explain yourself!"
Here the boy snarled, not to his Lord, but to all present, "They are no mighty warriors, but cowards, his men!" A finger, sharp in it's accusations as any blade, jabbed at the Horselord. "Régnwald, son of Régn, fled when Stangard was burning. He betrayed his own kin! Once Théoden, our chief learns the troth, no doubt he will get banished forthwith."
Erlene looked over the band with a troubled expression. She looked at Egilfrid then back again.
The boy's eyes widened, bulging as he noticed the extent of his realization. "And the rest of the band..." The word was spat as if venom drawn from a wound. "Outlaws, Exiles, Wolf's Heads, all of them!"
