[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan

Perhaps it was the easy way in which he spoke to her, or perhaps it was just that fact that she was tired. Meghan lifted the ban she’d put on her tongue and began to speak with Sythric as if his questions were meant to be answered and not just polite convention. She took a long draw on the pipe he’d handed back to her and let the sweet smoke out slowly, as if considering where she might begin.

‘Well, Fionn is companionable enough, save that he seems so young. Now I know he and I are of an equal age, but he seems such an innocent. Were he my younger brother I would feel quite protective of him. And to be truthful, I do. I’ve never met an Orc or an Eastern man, but I think they won’t be half won over by his sweet, ingenuous smile or his guileless shrug. He is a dear . . . boy . . .’ Her voice trailed off as she looked to where Fionn slept soundly beneath his blankets.

‘And Osmod . . . hmmmm. Well, he seems our reluctant leader. That is, until you two old badgers showed up.’ She winked at Sythric, a glint in her eye. She was enjoying having someone to talk to, even though she knew he would sift through them and use what grains of truth he thought might be useful. ‘He seemed fairly sure of himself when we started out . . . but really, he’s a little too accommodating, if you ask me. Which you did, didn’t you? If I were as accommodating as him with my little herd of goats, then they would all have run willy-nilly the very first summer out to the far pastures and been picked off by the wolves.’ She raised her brows at Sythric, half expecting a reaction at her harsh assessment. But the old soldier simply puffed on the pipe she’d given back to him, nodding for her to go on. ‘I think sometimes he doesn’t want to offend anyone. That he wants everyone to like him, or if not like him, then at least not to rely on him too much.’

Meghan stamped her feet a little and rocked back and forth on them, trying to warm them. She’d stood in one place too long and the cold had crept in. ‘Come walk a bit,’ she said. ‘I need to get my blood flowing.’

They took a turn about the little camp, their eyes flicking here and there into the shadows and beyond. There was nothing untoward they could see, nothing suspicious. ‘I suppose you want to hear about us women, too, eh? The gentler sex as those story-tellers who sometime come to the Lord’s hall call us.’ She snorted and bit back too loud a laugh, looking guiltily about lest she had waked one of the others.

‘Well, we are . . . awful! Yes, quite alarming and appalling, really. Me, because I really did not want to come. It was a mistake I was chosen. I rue every foot step that takes me away from my family and my herd. And yet, it is my family’s honor that binds me to this task . . . that and my sincere wish for their safety and the safety of the village.’ She spit on the ground as if clearing her mouth of the bad taste of those words that voiced her unwanted obligation. ‘Aye, I’ll see it through . . . and then be glad at the end when I’m quit of it.’

She looped her arm through his in a moment’s act of innocent familiarity and ease, much as a daughter would do with her father. ‘I’m very glad you and dear old Rædy have come. I will feel safer with you two among us. And, no I’m not ashamed to say so.’ She scuffed a pebble out of her path with the toe of her boot.’ ‘It’s one thing to shepherd a flock of goats, dog by my side, make decisions of life and death as need be for them and for me. But . . . they are little things, really, in the light of what we are supposed to be doing here. I’m out of my depth.’ She dropped her arm from his and turned to look at him. ‘I’m glad to have someone to place my trust in.’

She walked along beside him, quiet for a while, caught in her own thoughts. He had to repeat his question twice before his words got through to her.

‘. . . the other?’ Her cheeks crimsoned and she was glad he could not see them in the dark. ‘Ah, yes . . . Well, I admitted to being awful, didn’t I. And I’ll take my part of burden for that. But Eostre . . .’ She grimaced slightly wondering if she should go on.

‘Well, the woman’s a sharp tongued witch and prickly as a cornered porcupine. I can scarce stand to be around her; and she, I think would be just as happy to see the ground open up and swallow me whole. We’ve only been out a day now, and my whole plan for surviving this little expedition has narrowed down to keeping to myself, keeping out of her way and keeping my mouth shut.’ She laughed softly and shook her head. ‘Which I haven’t done so successfully, now, have I? The keeping my mouth shut, that is.’

The two had come round to the place from which they’d started. Meghan sat down, drawing her cloak close around her. ‘I’ve talked your ear off, haven’t I? I wouldn’t be surprised you and Rædy hauled us all back to the village and told the March-warden he’d best pick out another group . . .’