ISENGRIM
Yule 1263
the camp
near Little Marsh
Temeria
A day after he arrived at Iorveth's camp, he was sitting with him by the breakfast, while most of their men was still deeply asleep. The snow was falling slowly to the ground all around them and the white fluff was already covering the ground and trees around the clearing. They were sitting in warm furs, but still the cold was noticeable.
Our first winter in camps. It's not easy, but we will survive... We always do.
"I see, that you have no problems with provisions" – he said to the younger Seidhe.
"No. There is plenty of game and we managed to steal more clothing."
"You are doing great, fraere. I hope, that you know it."
"I know. I thought, that you have come here to plan something..." – Iorveth said looking at him curiously.
"Yes and no. I wanted to make sure, that you are fine" – he smiled fondly – "but there is something I was discussing with Coinneach Da Réo not long ago and we may use your help. Your commando is growing rapidly."
"Many Seidhe from here have reasons to join us."
"Yes... yes, they do. Your recruitment strategy is working" – Isengrim stated proudly.
"We are doing our best. It is risky: to send men to the cities on missions for some trivia and to make them pretend, that they need help, but... it worked out well. Especially Toru is an expert in being a damsel in distress" – both chuckled at this statement. – "This is how we recruited Yeavinn. He knows how to hunt and how to fight, this is more than many of my men could do when they joined us."
"I noticed... Tension."
"He's fallen in love with Toru, or at least, it's what I suspect."
"But she is in your tent right now, isn't she?"
Iorveth swallowed loudly and cleared his throat before answering:
"Yes."
"Does he know, that she played him?"
"No."
After the last answer, Isengrim raised an eyebrow. There was a moment of silence before the older Seidhe continued:
"Do you believe, that a woman – and you know that I like Toru immensely, but still – is worthy of such a petty quarrel with a brother?"
"He never said, that it bothers him, I've asked a thousand times. And... isn't it what we do? We are the free Aen Seidhe: passionate and unbounded."
"Yes, but sometimes... even we can become possessive."
"I cannot even imagine myself... C'mon" – Iorveth stated shaking his head.
"Me neither. Maybe it will never happen or maybe it didn't happen yet. But remember where your priorities lay. Most importantly: never ever abuse your position. Only a weak leader uses his or hers power to please himself or herself and you are many things, fraere, but not weak."
"I won't disappoint you" – the younger Seidhe replied slowly.
There was a long silence when both men were deep in their thoughts. It was Isengrim, who broke it again:
"Do you trust me, Iorveth?"
"Always and with everything, you know it, fraere. Why did you ask?"
"I may have a plan for you to implement. But... it's neither easy nor safe."
"Just say a word."
"The Order of the Flaming Rose. They are attacking us already, even before the dh'oine kings decided to fight against Scoia'tael. We need to bleed them."
"Where?"
"You'll go to the riverbank of the Adalatte river. They have an outpost much too close to Brokilon. Lady Eithné requires our assistance."
"We'll move in the spring."
"No... wait till summer, the marshes are dangerous during the thaw."
"OK. In Feainn, then."
When he was leaving two days later, he looked back and saw Iorveth and Yeavinn standing calmly on the edge of the camp. He felt gusts of wind blowing in his direction, throwing the snowflakes in his face. Then, he spun his horse and rode into the forest, but an inexplicable worry didn't leave his mind.