[Gwathagor]

Crabannan sidled up to the wood-cutters, hands jammed in his belt, whistling an northern air.

"Morning," he said to no one in particular. They were talking and he did not really care if they paid attention to him or not. It was Hilderinc, Aforglaed, some other soldiers -- and that odd quiet one, Nydfara.

Odd and quiet! I'm one to talk, thought Crabannan. He looked around for an axe and, seeing none to spare, began to gather up the wooden rails the men were cutting.

"Well, I wonder what is this Eodwine going to do here anyway, since he's no eorl anymore," Aforglaed was saying.

Crabannan paused. This struck him as wrong.

"A good man like Eodwine stripped of authority for falling ill? Not likely."

He began to march away with his shoulderload of wood, heading for the site of the new sheep-shed.