eorlings

Dytha wiped the dusted snow from her downy eyebrows and took in the warmth of her home. It was good to be back in Fréasburg. Had a month really passed since she’d traveled to Aldburg to prepare for their Yuletide? Then Edoras, then Aldburg again. She’d lost count. Even in winter it seemed there were no ends to her roads. Now, at last, she was home. 

((A summary of the last year in West Rohan, and the events leading up to it. Get ready for links!))

Five gold coins was the price of my husband. Five gold coins for the slaying of Osgar son of Hincmar, a well-respected man in Aldburg. Five gold coins for a strong youth killing his weakened elder. Five gold coins for my beloved’s blood spilling out of his body. Five gold coins for the man I loved most to die in the darkest of nights, sputtering and gasping for breath. Five gold coins is a paltry sum. What fee can buy a husband’s love? A father’s care? A freeman’s fealty? That was no worthy trade.

The last words of Eorland the Bowman, sung to Audelwyn of Harwick in the alliterative style traditional to the Rohirrim. Along with his parting words, he leaves her the worldly possessions not buried with him, including his horse, hauberk, horn, and cloak.

He collected his pay for the week, wiping at the sweat on his furrowed brow, his skin reddened from that sun. The chestnut colt cantered around in the corral, Aldfryd pausing to watch him. He spoke to his boss, his voice deep and soft, "That one's nervous, but he's coming along. Needs a bit more time than the others."

A bittersweet Reunion

"So it have come to this.  The night before starting our journey back home..."