Hard Winters RPG

[Galadriel55]

Ledwyn was glad that Lady Saeryn swept the conversation aside. She was ashamed of herself, and yet unsure if she wished to have said less or have said more.

She interrupted her musings when she saw a familiar figure come into the Great Hall. Brithiel, slender and elegant, glided through the doorway and looked around her, perhaps in search for a seat. Ledwyn was meaning to speak to the lady for the last two days, but with so many duties the chance never presented itself. She could not miss it now.

Putting aside her earlier woes as best as she could, she approached Brithiel and steeled herself for what she must say. She was preparing for this the last two days, and she should not blunder again as she did before.

"Westu hal, Lady Brithiel," she said, inclining her head. "I offer you our bread and mead. You are our honoured guest, but this is more than honour. I came to ask for your forgiveness. I pray you shall not judge the rest by my doings and misdoings. My bearing is low, but the bearing of the Hall is high. If there is a deed I can do to reclaim your respect, you must name it to me."

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc sat down at the table in the hall. He had not slept well. Again. Maybe the rainy weather was to blame, his right arm again hurt badly. He had woken up several times, and when it happened in the morning after the rain had finally subsided, he could hear Áforglaed waking up and rummaging around the room for long enough that it kept him awake for good.

Hilderinc took a sip of water from the cup as he saw the women entering from the kitchens. The smell of porridge that came to him from across the room made his mouth water. He realised he was quite hungry. Then he heard squelching noises and turning his head to the right, he saw Áforglaed trotting towards him from the entrance, dragging mud with him all over the Hall. Hilderinc wondered where had he been; his boots looked as if he had spent the morning by walking in a swamp.

"Morning, Hilderinc," the younger soldier greeted him, so cheerfully that Hilderinc wondered whether Áforglaed had actually woken up early to play in the mud like a five-year old. He could see the image very vividly in his mind, and shook his head at it. Áforglaed interpreted that motion in his own way.

"What, don't be such a sourface," he said, sitting down. "It is a nice morning. Maybe it will finally stop raining today. Oh no," he added, probably for the first time noticing the state of his boots and the substance that was still dripping from them. "The women are not going to thank me."

"No, they certainly are not," Hilderinc confirmed, eyes focused on Ledwyn and lady Saeryn, who were going around offering bread. Each of the soldiers took a piece when the bread came their way and started munching immediately. Then the kitchen door opened once again and Kara with Stefnu appeared with the porridge.

Hilderinc noticed that Áforglaed promptly hid his muddy boots further under the table as Stefnu approached. She did not seem to notice. Smiling at Hilderinc, she put two big spoonfuls of porridge into his bowl. Áforglaed jumped to hold his own bowl in front of her, watching eagerly as she dumped one spoonful in it. Grinning, Áforglaed looked up at her again, expecting more. But Stefnu only smiled. Hilderinc had to hide his expression behind his own bowl, as Áforglaed's previously radiant face changed from utter disbelief into obvious terror. Only then Stefnu casually topped Áforglaed's bowl with another spoonful, considerably larger than the previous one.

"Thank you," Hilderinc said for them both, as Áforglaed sat down, appartently confused and unable to piece together what had just happened. Still smiling, Stefnu nodded at them and drifted away towards the other tables.