A Blessing for the Heart
Sevilodorf
Grasses whispered as he passed, and the wild things paused to sniff the wind, but the small company of weary travelers remained unaware. Intrigued by the sight of the men in such a desolate area, he turned aside.
********
"It was a mistake I tell you. We never should've left."
"Why did you then, Darmath?" Though mildly spoken, the question served to halt the other's tirade.
Similar enough in appearance to be brothers or at least close kin, the two men sat huddled about a small fire that did little to relieve the cold.
"Well, we could've waited until after Year's End at least. 'Tis bloody cold out here," grumbled Darmath, tossing another chunk of wood on the fire and releasing an upward spiral of sparks.
"Aye," agreed the other. Pulling his woolen cloak more tightly about his lean form, he shrugged ruefully. "But..."
"Admit it, Corling, you're henpecked right and proper. Otherwise we wouldn't be sitting out here in the middle of nowhere freezing when we could be celebrating the Year's End in a nice warm hall."
Corling shrugged again and glanced toward the three overladen carts that had been positioned to form a makeshift corral for their horses. Beneath the carts slept the rest of their company. Nine, they were, though soon to be ten.
"It will be good for the child to be born on the land he will some day hold."
Darmath chuckled softly, "You are so certain it will be a boy?"
"So Etharen declares it to be. And I dare not disagree."
"What did I tell you... henpecked." Rubbing his hands together briskly, Darmath stood. "Call me for the second watch."
"Aye, that I will."
Corling watched as his kinsman crawled beneath a cart and wrapped himself in an assortment of blankets and skins; then taking up his shortsword, he moved beyond the fire's light and began a slow circle about the camp.
The moon was hiding behind a layer of clouds that Darmath had morosely predicted would bring rain by morning, and the night suddenly seemed very dark. Had he made a mistake in coming here? Was he reaching above his station as some had claimed? But how else did anyone ever gain more but by reaching out?
These lands along the River Adorn had long been empty. Those who had once held here forced by plague or war to abandon their holdings. But now, Lord Erkenbrand sought to reclaim the land and offered landholds to those willing to move beyond the Gap and begin the task. The Lord of the Westfold had broken tradition by choosing many common men, whose families had never held land, being instead herders or tradesmen. Some of them chose not to accept the challenge, content to return to their old ways of life. But after a brief moment of shock, Corling had leaped at the chance and somehow managed to convince a group of his kinsmen and their families to accompany him. If they did well, perhaps more could be persuaded to follow.
********
As the man continued his slow circuit around the camp, his thoughts were plain to the unseen watcher. Plans for the future mingled with remembrances of those who lay beneath mounds of simbelmyne. Whispering a blessing to ease the sorrows of their hearts and strengthen their resolve to meet the coming tasks, the watcher departed with the thought that Etharen would be proven correct by morning.
Sevilodorf
Grasses whispered as he passed, and the wild things paused to sniff the wind, but the small company of weary travelers remained unaware. Intrigued by the sight of the men in such a desolate area, he turned aside.
********
"It was a mistake I tell you. We never should've left."
"Why did you then, Darmath?" Though mildly spoken, the question served to halt the other's tirade.
Similar enough in appearance to be brothers or at least close kin, the two men sat huddled about a small fire that did little to relieve the cold.
"Well, we could've waited until after Year's End at least. 'Tis bloody cold out here," grumbled Darmath, tossing another chunk of wood on the fire and releasing an upward spiral of sparks.
"Aye," agreed the other. Pulling his woolen cloak more tightly about his lean form, he shrugged ruefully. "But..."
"Admit it, Corling, you're henpecked right and proper. Otherwise we wouldn't be sitting out here in the middle of nowhere freezing when we could be celebrating the Year's End in a nice warm hall."
Corling shrugged again and glanced toward the three overladen carts that had been positioned to form a makeshift corral for their horses. Beneath the carts slept the rest of their company. Nine, they were, though soon to be ten.
"It will be good for the child to be born on the land he will some day hold."
Darmath chuckled softly, "You are so certain it will be a boy?"
"So Etharen declares it to be. And I dare not disagree."
"What did I tell you... henpecked." Rubbing his hands together briskly, Darmath stood. "Call me for the second watch."
"Aye, that I will."
Corling watched as his kinsman crawled beneath a cart and wrapped himself in an assortment of blankets and skins; then taking up his shortsword, he moved beyond the fire's light and began a slow circle about the camp.
The moon was hiding behind a layer of clouds that Darmath had morosely predicted would bring rain by morning, and the night suddenly seemed very dark. Had he made a mistake in coming here? Was he reaching above his station as some had claimed? But how else did anyone ever gain more but by reaching out?
These lands along the River Adorn had long been empty. Those who had once held here forced by plague or war to abandon their holdings. But now, Lord Erkenbrand sought to reclaim the land and offered landholds to those willing to move beyond the Gap and begin the task. The Lord of the Westfold had broken tradition by choosing many common men, whose families had never held land, being instead herders or tradesmen. Some of them chose not to accept the challenge, content to return to their old ways of life. But after a brief moment of shock, Corling had leaped at the chance and somehow managed to convince a group of his kinsmen and their families to accompany him. If they did well, perhaps more could be persuaded to follow.
********
As the man continued his slow circuit around the camp, his thoughts were plain to the unseen watcher. Plans for the future mingled with remembrances of those who lay beneath mounds of simbelmyne. Whispering a blessing to ease the sorrows of their hearts and strengthen their resolve to meet the coming tasks, the watcher departed with the thought that Etharen would be proven correct by morning.