Gyth ain't returned ter Combe. We'em parted a bit cross ... a bit too much ale. She had ter start on about her burnt man. ruined the party, she did.
Now I ain't sayin' its all her fault -this- time. I did drink a bit. Not as much as that southern lad, Araenion. he aint able ter take his drink - even a mearc's lass could be on her feet while he is babbling like a babby under the table. wealas aint able ter take much ale. This celebration Gyth an' I found, just outside Bree - full of drunken wealas, free ale, and bad dancin'. They dursent know how to dance, hoppin' up an' down like they'm tryin' ter stand on a burning log wi' no boots on.
here's another thing. These wealas... they marries their sisters. master araenion and his sister they was all over each other like ... well... like my cousin Aelred and that lass from the westfold. An' we all knows what happened next. My Da said Aelred wont be able ter ride a horse or another lass for a good year or more while it heals.
Now i knows cousins wed... a cos i seen it happen enough back home. but brother an' sister. well... it aint right. . i seen some bad breedin' back in the mearc, when a stallion gets in ter the wrong mares and the foals come out all odd.
So me an' gyth, we watches Araenion and that lady-sister o'his, them being so drunk seemed only the friendly thing ter do... I mean, they'd thank us iffen we stopped 'em before summat bad happened. But gyth gets all odd about it, sayin' we'em spying, which we aint ... just a bit o' friendly interest I says. She looked a nice lass, his sister. But sad though, like she'm trying ter get him ter do summat he don't like an' he aint listenin'.
