The dress was finer than any that Damaris had ever dreamed of, much less ever seen, dark blue linen with a steel gray wool overdress. On one hand, she wanted to reject the gifts, but on the other hand, she understood them all too well. Like it or not, she was the center of attention today. Like it or not, she was a champion today, unfaded. She would not go to her own moot looking like a backwards country herder, a bumpkin, even if that was what she truly was. Her people could be generous to a fault, and the gifts pouring in from people she didn't know, had never heard of, and indeed, had never seen before boggled her mind. She had her pick of dresses. Ornate jewelry. Fine leatherwork...shoes, belts. It was hard to believe that it was all hers, and not even a loan...there was no returning items if she didn't know who had brought them. There was only one new thing she that she understood, and she used the thief's token as the finery that spanned the two large bronze brooches that adorned the shoulder straps of her overdress.

"Very nice." Eir had come into the loft behind her, and Damaris jumped. The woman was silent as death... "I did some checking on the young man in question, Sworn Volunson?"

Married. Taken. Something... There was a wait, a distance...something was not quite right, yet. "Let me guess, he's married?" Just because he didn't show it meant little... many males did not. And he'd never acted wrongly, she had...

"No." Ah, but there was a hesitation in Eir's voice that said there was something else. "He came here to join the Durmand Priory. He's going to be sent on to the Priory stronghold in Lornar's Pass, for novitiate training."

The Priory? Damaris paused at the very idea. She'd heard of them, vaguely, before. She'd been taught to read by the local skaald, sitting beside Kormak and Albrikt, along with a handful of other children from closeby steadings, so she'd had little to do with any Priory member. She knew they were skaalds, entrusted with the history of Tyria, more than the epic songs and sagas that the Norn cultivated, embroidered, spread and embellished upon. "The Priory is a valuable choice, I'd hate to try to talk him out of it..." Eir continued with a shrug. "But there is no way he'll leave before the moot is over, so do we ask him? You'd be better off with an escort to keep the others at bay, and if he's the one you've got your eyes on, and you're not looking for permanent, it could work well."

And Damaris was damned foolish, or merely desperate, because that idea was one of the finest she'd heard for a long time. "That sounds like a good idea...if he's not going with someone else, of course."

The small Priory encampment in Hoelbrak had become oddly quiet, and Sworn glanced up in confusion. It had been noisy, nearly raucous, and suddenly...not. He met quizzical and measuring golden eyes peering at him, perfectly at his eye level, and he nodded at the great dire wolf staring him down. It grinned and panted, glancing upwards at the woman behind it. "Sworn Volunson?" She asked calmly, and he recognized her from earlier, she'd been at the Hunts... Eir Stegalkin. He scrambled to his feet, awkward and uncertain...how was he supposed to respond?

"Yes." He confirmed, suddenly aware that he was on his own here.

"Walk with me, if you're not busy."

Busy? No, he'd been killing time, waiting for the festivities to end so that someone would consent to travel south with him and Svengr. There was safety in numbers, after all. He nodded, stepping into stride with her, and waited quietly for her to speak. "Damaris Holmfrid." She began, and he shrugged in answer.

"I know who she is." He admitted warily, "But I don't know anything about her, truly. The first time I saw her was yesterday." How could she be the sort of trouble that sent Eir after him? Was she married? Promised to someone with enough clout to get this to run him off? But she'd been the one to ask him for the gift, he'd just run into her.

"Same for all of us." Eir mused, and her voice carried no threat. "Damaris is the new Champion of the Great Hunt, her moot is tonight."

Of course he knew all of that. Was he about to be warned away? No issue there, he hadn't really been planning on attending anyway.

"She has attracted a lot of attention from young men, that she's a little uncomfortable with, given her current status."

Current status? There was a weight to her words, a slight line between her brows, and her eyes were sadly level. That meant something more than what it sounded like. She wasn't discussing the Hunt at all with that. "Current status?" He finally trusted himself enough to ask.

"Damaris Holmfrid is widowed. She lost her husband to the Icebrood."

Sworn raised a brow in thought. That explained so much, in spite of the questions it grew. The contradiction in her clothing, her hair, the wedding band. It was a sadly commonplace occurrence in these dark days, too many had lost their lives to the Dragons. At least she was young enough to start over again... "A tragedy." He murmured when it became obvious Eir wanted some sort of response from him. "Do you know if he's been gone long enough?" The very question felt callous, but it needed asking.

"Long enough, Volunson, long enough. Which brings us to you, and why I'm here to speak to you. She has a liking for you, probably the first since she lost him. She asks you to accompany her tonight at the moot. We know that you're intended for the Priory, this is no challenge to those plans at all."

"I'd be honored." Suddenly, this all made sense. And Sworn liked things that he understood. There was a challenge in not understanding something, of course, something to be solved, but a contentedness once it was solved. A feeling that things fell correctly into place. And it'd be a story...not even Hallir could claim the honor of escorting a Great Hunt champion to her moot. If she understood that he was going away, then he saw no harm in it at all. It was better than sitting here, waiting.

"We'll get you cleaned up, and take you to her." Eir promised, and he nodded. That did sound like a fine idea, he was travel stained and worn. A bath was just what he needed.

He was expecting a bath, and that was exactly what he got. He wasn't expecting a new set of clothing, but he got that as well, much finer than he'd ever had before. "Aren't these the Priory's colors?" He asked when Eir stepped back in to check on him. It seemed as if everyone he'd seen with them wore the same gray and blue.

"Yes." She affirmed, shrugging. "A coincidence, I believe, but a happy one for you. Consider them a gift."

"A coincidence?" He echoed dubiously, and she smiled.

"Damaris was given a few gowns in rather subdued colors to pick from this afternoon. She chose gray and blue, and I'm certain that was not due to any nod to the Priory's colors. These were chosen mainly to match hers. A coincidence." She measured him, and he guessed by her sudden sharp nod that he had passed. "This way."

He followed her up a set of wide stairs, and into an upper corner of the main hall. Damaris stood there, her focus locked on the sections of bubbly glass in the arched rise of window that lit the corner. There was no way she could see out of that, and he could sense the fine edge of nervousness in her stance. In spite of it, she was almost painfully lovely. Hallir had asked him more than once what he thought was beautiful in a woman, and he'd never had an answer, until that moment. And he couldn't say exactly what it was that made her so. He'd seen prettier women. He'd certainly seen happier women.

"Damaris?" His voice was remarkably steady. He could sense Eir step back, felt her move away, back downstairs.

"Sorry to have imposed."

"Imposed? No." She finally turned away from the window, and he smiled. She wore the beads that Hallir had carved, meant for a courtship gift. Hallir had meant them for Belga, but they seemed perfect enough where they were. "No imposition."

"Good. I'm glad." She smiled, and her whole face illuminated, and if there had been any doubts in his heart, they were gone in that second. This was simply the most lovely woman he'd ever seen. "We should go down."

"Ah, right." He managed words, and he'd never been so proud of that rather mundane accomplishment in his life. He walked beside her, close enough to reach out and touch her if he was that brave. He wasn't, it was enough to be this close. There was a murmur, like an avalanche calving, when they became visible at the top of the steps, It was an odd sensation, Sworn had always been the odd one, the young one, overshadowed both literally and figuratively by his older brothers, until that moment. He was the man stared at, wondered about, even envied? That was the feeling he got when she rested a hand on his elbow, making it all too obvious that she was here with him. It was heady, blood rushing excitement.

He placed his fingers over hers, giving her a smile in response. So many of the people pressing close were just blurs, voices and expressions, until he realized the next one was Svengr. And that one's gaze was measuring, contemplating, deep...and completely lacking the celebration of the crowd around him. "Damaris, Svengr Dalgaard. The man bringing me to the Priory..."

She smiled, giving Svengr an expression that Sworn had come to realize was a reflexive smile without true meaning. And it was pretty obvious by the older man's frown that he saw right through it. "When you have a free moment, Sworn, I'd like to talk to you." He said, "An honor to meet you, Damaris." And that last phrase was as false as her smile had been. He turned to vanish into the crowd, and Damaris turned blue eyes to Sworn.

"You going to see what he wants?" She asked slowly, and Sworn shook his head.

"No. I don't have a free moment. I promised you that I would be your escort for this moot. I won't have a free moment until it's over and you're not here anymore." He'd made Svengr no promises. And he had made the Priory no firm commitments yet. "I apologize for his rudeness."

"He's afraid I will keep you from the Priory." She identified easily, shaking her head. "And he can't come up with an argument against that."

"I am going to the Priory."

"I know that. He doesn't." She wrinkled her nose, "He believes that I will try to lead you away from that. I won't."

And that was almost a sad statement. For the first time, Sworn was torn, uncertain. The Priory had seemed such a viable choice, so recently, and now... not. He had gone from no options, to two...and both seemed right. "Damaris..."

"There are Priory members in Hoelbrak, Sworn. They are norn, still. They have relationships; wives, husbands, little ones. Go forward with your plans, it isn't as if they destroy all other paths you could walk later."

"Thank you." She was right, it wasn't necessarily an either or, it could be both. "It's so overwhelming, I've never been away from home before."

She smiled, not the fake, reflexive smile she'd been wearing, but an honest, eye dancing, cheek dimpling, grin. His knees went to water, and all he could do was blink in response. "Neither have I. And you're right, it is a little much to take in. But it would be wrong to make hasty decisions because we're both snowblinded by Hoelbrak."

"We're norn." He breathed, "We specialize in hasty decisions. And intoxicated ones..." Those were celebrated, made into legends.

"Do you really?"

"No." He'd always been the thinker, the ponderer, the one who argued his way out of things, not into them. And he sensed she was the same. "We are terrible examples of our people." He noted, and she merely nodded in agreement.

"We've got a moot to survive." She said, and he fell into step beside her, moving towards the head table.

He'd thought, before, that he had been to moots, gatherings of his family and all of those within a couple of days travel. Those were pale versions when compared to Hoelbrak celebrating a successful end to a Great Hunt. His horn was never empty, his plate always full. It was a joy, but he was relieved when she took his sleeve and gave it a slight pull away. Yes, it was time to go and sleep off the food and beer...if he could find a quiet corner to do it in.

They were shown to a quiet, screened corner, far away from the hubbub, and Sworn stared at the bed in it, uncertainly. His people lived communally, of course, nothing new there, but there was a world of difference between being hand in glove with his parents, his siblings, and his siblings' spouses...and a young woman he had his eyes on. It was obvious by her expression that her mind was working the same way as his was, and she shook her head with a slight chuckle.

"You behave, I'll behave." She said, crawling out of her heavy wool overdress and taking the side of the bed next to the wall. He remained stubbornly dubious until she patted the expanse of furs next to her in an invitation. He was certain he'd never sleep like this, but was gone the first moment he closed his eyes.

Damaris woke, warm and soothed. It had been years since the last time she'd slept like this, comforted by the presence of a man beside her. Sworn was still dead to the world asleep, curled around her, his face buried in the ruin of her hairdo, hand resting on the rise of her hip. Too damned long, indeed.

She turned over carefully, studying him. Without the focus of his eyes, his face walked the edge of being plain. His brows were heavy, his nose a little long and broad for his face. He was rather thin...Kormak would have outweighed him, and if her memory was correct, towered over him. Even Albrikt was heavier, taller, broader.

He woke the moment she grasped his hand, before she could even attempt to move it gently... his eyes shot open and he stared at her like she was some sort of appartition he couldn't quite place.

"Damaris?"

"Good morning." At least she thought it was morning. The shadows seemed to say so, but she was unfamiliar with the Great Lodge...for all she knew, those were twilight shadows.

"Ummm... good morning." He had a wary, stunned, yet slightly hopeful stare that made her want to giggle like a little girl. Men. "I...uh...don't remember..."

"Nothing to remember. You're dressed. I'm dressed. Nothing happened." And as expected, that slightly hopeful edge turned to slightly unhappy, yet deeply relieved.

"Good." He smiled, and she tilted her head questioningly. He meant that, completely. "That's something I would want to remember happening."

"Nice answer." She noted, and he grinned, apparently unwilling to release his hold on her waist, and she really wasn't invested enough to make a fuss over it, either.

"It's the truth." He murmured, finally moving his hand to smooth her hair. "Can I ask you for something?"

"Eh?" Surely he wasn't going to ask? And if he did, did she have an answer?

"You have something from me... Do you have anything to give me in return?"

Oh. That was hardly the request she'd been half expecting and half dreading. And did she? She had little...and most of what she had was either totally inappropriate, it wouldn't do to give him something she had from Kormak, or incredibly precious. But... she escaped from his grasp and grabbed her worn pack. There actually was something that would work in it. It had been packed, she was certain of it. "Here." She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the edge of cold bronze. "I think it will fit."

He took the piece from her, curiously, a circular, flattened band of engraved and enamelled bronze, completely plain on one side, and set with windows of dyed leather; red, blue and green. It fit his wrist perfectly when he slid it on, and he stared at it. She could feel him puzzling, wondering, thinking.

"It's the edging frame from one of my father's shield bosses. It's the closest thing I have." She wasn't in the habit of carrying around gifts for young men. "What you gave me isn't really important, is it?"

"The necklace? No. My brother made it for me to give away to a young woman he wanted me to court. I kept telling him I didn't like her that much, but he lived in hope. I'd much rather give it to you than her, and this is a fine piece." He smoothed his sleeve over it thoughtfully. "You can read?"

"I can, yes."

"Then I'll write. I promise. But I should go before the Priory leaves without me." He gave her an awkward kiss, almost missing his target, sent one last uncertain glance back towards her, and gathered up his pack. She said nothing to hold him, only watched as he left. She half expected her fortitude to fail, but it didn't...she'd survived much worse in her short life, and she merely gathered up her possessions and repacked them.

"Are you alright?"

"Been better. Been much, much worse." Damaris turned to Eir with a shrug. "He's gone?"

"Yes, he is."

"The Priory is not prison, when he's done with his novice training, he'll be free to see you again..."

"I told him that already."

"Good." The woman came out of the shadow she'd been standing in. "Good that you realized that yourself. But Knut and I promised to get you out of Hoelbrak, at least until your fame as champion dies down a little."