[Thinlómien]

"This is insufferable!" Wulfric shouted. He and his brother were on a ride again, and they had ridden for an hour without saying anything. Wulfric's face had been as dark as a storm cloud ever since the hearing, and now he had seemed to decide to let it all out. Fine, Wilheard shrugged. Let him rant if helped him. He too was annoyed at many things, but he thought his big brother was being overtly dramatic, as so often.

"Will, what have I done wrong? What have we done wrong? What have I done to deserve to be disinherited like some disgraceful vagrant?"

Wilheard could think of many witty replies, but for once he kept his mouth shut. He didn't truly understand why his father had done what he had, and he was angry for his brother too. But truth be told, it didn't really concern him. He was born the second son, and he had always known he would have to make his own life, earn his own place in the military and not inherit land or holdings. Undoubtedly, it was different from Wulfric's perspective.

"What is my crime, Will?" Wulfric's eyes were full of anguish, and Wilheard could feel his brother's pain. But there was nothing he could say to help him, he understood the situation even less than his brother did. Wulfric had always been the politician, the one who understood the twists and turns, the chances and ways of power. If he was at loss, Wilheard was even more so.

"I don't understand. I did everything they wanted me to! I worked hard to become a soldier, and I was the best in my class. No other son of an Eorlinga ever bested me in a fight.

I learned first how to take care of my horse, and as I grew older I was given the unofficial responsibility to look after you, my little brother. In my training, I was appointed to lead and tutor younger boys and show them what it is to be an Eorling soldier. I strived to be a good leader. I never failed Blackmane or Northwind, nor you, nor any of the lads.

I always did my duties. Maybe not always without grumbling, but I did them. I broke some rules too, that I know, but if somebody says I didn't suffer my punishments like a man, he is a liar and deserves to be flogged.

What is a man that doesn't make mistakes? Am I to suffer a lifetime shame because played pranks on the shepherd when I was but a boy? Am I deemed unworthy because I wooed the miller's or the innkeeper's daughter or because I drank on duty?

Or because yesterday I followed a traitor plotting against my lord and tried to make him talk?

Is this my fate? Has another man ever been so wronged in his life, or do I truly deserve all this from my father whom I always strived to obey and respect like a loyal son?"

Wulfric let out a wail and looked to the sky, as if challenging the gods to be his witness. Wilheard could see tears running down his face. It was not a usual sight, and it made Wilheard's heart burn with fury. His brother spoke true - he had always been an ideal Eorling warrior: the biggest, the brutest, the boldest and looking after his underlings with utmost care. He did not deserve this kind of humiliation or questioning his value, not to mention being substituted by a whining peasant girl and her unborn child. Their father must have gone cracked.

Indeed, the more he thought of that, the more it seemed like that. Athanar as Wilheard remembered him had been a gentle father, noble and distant, but definitely full of goodwill, unlike their mother who had had no patience for boyish whims or cheerfulness and who had often scolded them with harsh words. And Athanar had definitely been a lord to be proud of.

But who was this Athanar they had come back to from the military? He was noble, and gentle, but definitely cracked. His gentleness and turned to weakness - how often did Athanar's eyes glimmer with tears when he recalled something from the past, how meek punishments he executed on his subjects? And who in their right mind would disinherit their eldest son, especially if it was someone like Wulfric?

Wilheard thought maybe this would make Wulfric feel better, so he told his brother as much. Wulfric nodded fervently. "It must be the only explanation. It would also explain why he treated us today like he did." Wulfric's face grew dark on the thought of it, and he would have started another rant had Wilheard not been quicker. He was offended by their father's behaviour towards them too.

"First he publicly inherits us without bothering to tell us first. Apparently we are not worth that.

Then, he talks to us as if we were barely away from mother's breasts. He talks to us as if we are idiots, in front of all the people. Good that he didn't call us 'kiddies'!"

"Indeed", Wulfric growled in a low voice. "And then, on top of all that ridicule, he exerts on us a punishment that could be given to some ten-year olds! Go do a little chippadeedoo duty with uncle Lithor. And behave nicely, boys. No poking fingers in each other's noses!"

Despite everything, Wilheard had to laugh. He had always been the witty one out of the two, but Wulfric could have his way with words when he was angry.

"Although, we have to remember he gave the same punishment to Lithor, so he treats him like a baby too," Wulfric added.

"Well that's no surprise, they greybeard has proven himself to be senile. Have we given as bad an impression?" Wilheard asked.

"This is insufferable!" Wulfric replied, tearing his hair. "He must be out of his mind, there is no other logical explanation, is there? If he didn't seem so insane, I would go to him and demand to be punished like a man for whatever crimes he wishes to charge me of. I can't stand being treated like wayward child when I'm a grown-up man, fully aware of the consequences of my actions. I can understand not being so harsh on a man so old he is starting to sink back towards his childhood, but to a young man in his prime, never!"

For a while, there was silence. Wilheard was starting to feel angrier and angrier, and Wulfric was clearly thinking of something.

"Do you know what this means, Wilheard?" Wulfric asked in a shaky voice after a while.

Wilheard shook his head.

"If our esteemed father is truly somehow out of his mind, we must be extra vigilant. No one else should know about this. We should see to that everything seems as normal as possible. We shall act as if this kind of dishonourable treatment towards one's sons is normal. If we don't raise a question about it, maybe it will go unnoticed.

And we need to take the responsibility as his sons. If he flips totally, we need to get help for him. A healer or a... witch, as you would call them, I suppose. But we are the grown-up men of this family now. We need to take control, and take care."

Wulfric paused. It was sort of contradictory. He seemed as appalled at the idea of their father having some strange illness on his mind as Wilheard was, yet there was a spark in his eyes, something very familiar to Wilheard - it was the spark of determination and enthusiasm in face of a difficult challenge, Wulfric's spark of life.

Wilheard could feel the same. He had never been into politics or responsibilities, his dream had been being his brother Eorl Wulfric's right hand man and a war hero, tamer of the greatest of mearas and the swiftest of hawks, but this desolate place and the queer challenges it brought were something he recognised as an adventure. He spoke at length:

"And if his madness is of the terminal kind, it might be you inherit this place after all, at least for a while."

"Do not speak of that," said Wulfric, but the spark flashed in his eyes. "We shall go back now, and act according to the plan."

"But one more thing before we go," said Wilheard. He lowered his voice. "I think this place is cursed."