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The sun cast long shadows across the hall grounds as Scyld and the other men made their way back from the fields where the sheep pen stood well on its way to completion. He was tired and very hungry, and he thought eagerly of the feast that had been promised for Eodwine's return. His mouth watered at the scents that wafted out from the kitchen as they drew near – a faint fruity aroma underlaid the stronger smells of fresh bread and – best of all – fresh beef.
He hadn't even realized how chilled he had gotten working outside all day until he pushed open the door to the hall and stepped inside. Then the warmth enveloped him and suddenly he felt cold to the bone. He sank gratefully to a seat at a table near the fireplace and felt his limbs begin to thaw.
The women had begun bringing out the food, and the various residents of the hall were all trickling in from wherever they had been, the tasks of the day put aside in favor of the coming celebration. He noted each as they arrived, out of habit rather more than anything else. There was Athanar and his family, taking their accustomed seats. Léof, in from the stables, who seemed unsure of where he ought to sit down (or rather, who he ought to sit down with). Falco, who would no doubt eat as much as any soldier there – Scyld would have to ask him sometime if all halflings were such hearty eaters. Rowenna...
His mental checklist stuttered to a halt. One of the soldiers sitting near him followed his gaze and grinned. “That's a fine looking woman, there,” he said. Scyld glanced at him and recognized him as Aldric, the same soldier who had made the jest about Saeryn at the breakfast table.
Scyld shrugged as if to say, A little. “What of it?”
Aldric looked at him as if he were mad. “What of it? Why, she's even prettier than the Lady Saeryn... and the kitchen maid Ginna too. The prettiest woman in the hall! And not otherwise spoken for, unlike them.”
A queer emotion threatened to bubble up inside Scyld, but he pushed it away and instead merely raised an eyebrow at the other man. “So you think you have a chance with her?”
“Why not?” Aldric was watching Rowenna, and so did not see Scyld smirking with an unsaid reply: Because you don't know the half of what's coming if you approach her.
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