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"No tickling allowed," Eodwine said. Sandwiched between Thornden behind and Saeryn in front, he had little room for maneuvering and it was not long before both his arms were pulled back in a tight grasp at the elbows by Thornden.
"Roll to one side," Erbrand said, "and you'll have Eodwine off his mount. Then we can take horse and rider back with us and leave our lord to walk back!"
"Now that would be cow - ard - ly!" Eodwine called as Thornden pulled him off the left side of Flíthaf. They hit the ground. "Ouch."
"Who are you to say ouch, my Lord!" cried Thornden. "You landed on me!"
"You have hard bones, my steward."
Even as Eodwine struggled up Erbrand was pulling Flíthaf away by the reins, still bearing Saeryn at a walk. To that man's surprise, however, Saeryn slid off the stallion's back and landing on her feet, called, "You may have the lord's horse, Erbrand, but you haven't his bride!" Erbrand looked back and cursed mildly.
By this time a half dozen of the others had ridden up. It was not long before Thornden, Eodwine, and Saeryn were surrounded. Thornden held Eodwine. "Take the lady while I hold Lord Eodwine!" he said.
Harreld dismounted and with a bow said, "I am sorry, lady, but we must take you from our lord. Will you ride with me?"
"Since you ask so gallantly," Saeryn smiled, "I will, but my lord will make you pay for the honor!"
"I do not doubt it!" Harreld grinned and favored Eodwine with a wink; Eodwine returned his gesture with a single raised brow and a humorless smile.
Soon the whole troop had left them but for Thornden. He let Eodwine from his grasp at last. "Give me a chance to join the others before you begin your heroics, my lord."
"Go then," Eodwine smiled. Thornden mounted his steed and rode away.
Eodwine watched him gallop off. After he had passed through the gap in the Scar, Eodwine sighed and looked up at the night sky. It was strange to be alone. Well, not quite alone. Erbrand had left him Flíthaf, who was calmly foraging not twenty paces off. Eodwine thought back to his wild desire of just a few moments ago to flee from the Scar with Saeryn and be free from all bond and responsibility. Now he was alone. He looked to the distance now, alone, his bride "kidnapped", waiting for him to claim her. He could ride away and be free alone. He breathed a single reflective laugh, half a grin on his lips. A fleeting dream, nothing more. Foolishness and less than half a man he who did such a deed.
He called to his steed and mounted. They loped back to Scarburg. Once inside his lands he saw that the folk were gathered near the baker under the lights. Surely Saeryn was with them. He saw that they had left the pair of swords behind from the rite. He dismounted and picked them up and walked to the baker, followed by Flíthaf, a sword in each hand. "I must look a spectacle," he thought as he approached.
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