The doors closed upon the world outside, darkness was falling, and the flames of the fires burning in the mead hall showed the signs of being untended all afternoon.
The hall was only half full, not all of the Rohirrim of Snowbourn had yet returned to give report to the Reeve of this proud settlement. Not all of those who had set out in the morning would.
Some gathered close to the far end, to better attend the Reeve and his loyal men, others, like the dirty newcomer, simply dropped down on a bench near the door, thanking the serving girls for the mead and bread offered. Most went unnoticed, it was not unusual for those passing through to gather in the mead hall, this was where news was most often found, and for the reeve, it made sure no one unwarranted wandered around town.
The bread tasted fine, albeit a bit stale, the mead was hearty though, and rich in taste. It was welcome after a day of riding and fighting, and Nihtwulf swallowed it eagerly, to wash away the dust from the trail. Today had been a good day, plenty of orc to hunt and thus his thirst for battle was sated. Now the thirst was of another kind. The serving girl came over to refill the tankard, and with a nod, Nihtwulf thanked her before turning from the table to survey the hall as he drank the mead.
It was an unbecoming sight, in small clumps stood riders, their faces grim, defeated, not showing any pride, nor will to fight. It was a sight Nihtwulf had become used to, as it seemed whatever mead hall you visited in the Eastemnet, the locals had lost the will to fight. It was shameful.
Shaking his head, Nihtwulf emptied the tankard and set it down behind him, he then unsheathed his sword, and cleaned it, before slowly beginning to mend and sharpen the edges, nicked and dull after having rent leather armor and scraping along mail. He looked up whenever a newcomer entered the hall, but oft as not it was not one who would hold his interest for long.
The serving girl came over again, and asked if he wanted more mead or bread, or perhaps some meat?. Nihtwulf only shook his head, and continued his work. He would have to go look for a new blade soon, especially if the current number of orc did not dwindle fast... not a day without fight, not an hour without the threat of more to come. The Eastemnet had become a land under siege, and to think this was once his home. Nihtwulf snorted at the thought.
Passing by, one of the local lieutenants heard the snort and walked over, a stern look on his face as he confronted the stranger mending his sword.
"You snort at the hospitality of the reeve stranger?"
"No, I snort at the stinking orc the reeve allows to walk just outside his gates..." Nihtwulf answered in a voice more bored than anything else.
"So you would fight off the orc eh?, what are you, a mercenary from up north?... gods know we have plenty of those around these days, I take it you are just here for the coin too" the lieutenant replied with a sneer.
"Coin? what use have I of the coin of the mark?... nay, I fight orc when it please me, and for the moment it does... and since it would seem Théoden King will not, then perhaps the northmen are the only ones to save your mark eh?". A tone of spite flared in Nihtwulf's voice, but it abated, to be replaced by the same boredom evident earlier.
"So, you fight simply to fight, without honor and without reason... pfft." the lieutenant walked off, conferring with some who had just entered the hall, his eyes flickering back to Nihtwulf now and again.
Nihtwulf finished mending the edges of his sword, and oiled it properly, before sheathing it once more, nodding to a passing girl, he refilled his tankard and took a drink surveying the hall once more, there were more people here now, evening was close at hand, and the company surrounding the reeve was growing.
Looking towards the door, Nihtwulf got eye contact with the lieutenant who shook his head at him and dismissed him out of hand. Suited Nihtwulf fine actually, he finished the mead, grabbed his gear and headed for the door. Passing the small group of rohirrim soldiers, Nihtwulf stopped and adressed the lieutenant:
"Before you judge others, before you claim pride in your King, your Reeve and your Mead Hall, know that some do not need to take up the coat of the Sutcrofts to do what is right. Some are not even allowed to wear it, though they do the work you should be out doing. Hide then under night in the hall, afraid to venture forth into darkness, to give battle to the evil that wishes to see the flame of the rohirrim extinguished." Nihtwulf snorted once more before continuing.
"A Mead Oath I will give unto you: Until death will my blade not yield, until death will my shield protect, for when those who should in right be fighting do not, it falls unto bastards and halfbloods to do the battles that lords shy away from."
Nihtwulf pushed open the doors and walked out into the setting darkness, leaving the group of Snowbourn riders behind, stunned into silence.
