Ferawyn lay in bed, curled up on her side with her hands between her knees. She couldn't sleep. The room had grown chill as the fire burnt down to embers in the hearth, and the thick wool blankets were itchy against her skin. With a quiet sigh, the young woman rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. The night had been a tiring one, with far too many revelations happening all at once.
Muttering to herself, she kicked the covers off the bed and sat up. The cold swept over her body, causing goose bumps to rise up on her arms and legs. She quickly wrapped her arms about herself and walked over to the nearby chair where her gown rested, slipping it on. Her hair was a bedraggled mass of knots and curls, and running her fingers through it did nothing to help. Too much tossing and turning, she thought with a sigh, and made her way through to the main room.
The warm glow emanating from the hearth told her that the supper fire had not burnt out completely. With bare feet, Ferawyn soundlessly crept towards it and sat, knees pulled up to her chest. It did not take long before the soft pitter patter of paws sounded behind her. A wet nose nudged her cheek, followed by the weight of a full-grown hound pushing itself onto her lap. With a stifled gasp and some quiet chuckling, she began to pet her best friend. "You're no pup anymore, Breaga. Don't be expecting to climb onto my lap all the time, now" She whispered softly, the hound paying no heed to her words.
The young woman closed her eyes with a smile, her face turned toward the crackling logs. The warm glow of the flames lit up her hair in fiery shades of red and amber, as though it were flame itself. She thought back on the day's events and pieced them together in her mind.
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The morning had begun well enough. An early start to feed and tend to the horses before taking her mare out for a ride over the Bree fields. She felt alive in those moments, bonded together, rider and steed, galloping at speed as they kicked up clods of wet mud and grass. It was freedom Ferawyn craved, and it was not to be found in these northern lands.
She had returned home, covered in muck, with cheeks flushed from the wind and hair that had whipped at her face. Her father had looked up from the breakfast pot and laughed at the sight, a reminder of his daughter's spirited nature and knack for throwing caution to the wind. He beckoned her to the breakfast table and they both ate, content in each other's company.
The day's work would not be as long as usual, with the gathering at the hall planned for the evening. So, to make up for the lost time, Ferawyn worked doubly hard to condense a full day's work into half the time. There were pewter plates to be polished, and goblets to be engraved, along with a sizeable order of brooches to be fashioned for some Order who intended to right the wrongs of Bree-land. It would take more than a day to finish those, but at least she could make a start.
Time drew on and before she knew it, there wasn't enough daylight to work by. She took the setting sun as a sign she would soon be needed at the hall. Gathering up her supplies, she locked them away safely with her finished orders, and washed up as best she could before the meeting. She had hopes that tonight might bear news of her home land and what progress had been made towards their getting there. And so, with expectations high, she rode with a light heart towards Wadstoke.
Her arrival at the hall found Irwinn returned and well from his week's travels, and though it had been a productive trip, more would need to be organised if the Esquires were to secure safe passage back to Rohan. No new messages had been sent by their first company, who still journeyed south, but then again lines of communication were unreliable and slow. Despite that knowledge, Ferawyn couldn't help but feel the pang of disappointment in her chest, which she kept to herself.
The arrival of the men from the Riders was the silver lining that managed to perk her up once more. Having formed an alliance to aid each other in their joint venture to travel the roads south and home, the journey now seemed that bit less perilous. More seasoned men, able hands and stout hearts to bolster their numbers would surely work in their favour. Whoever would lead them in this task would find the odds of their success improved. Yet, all it had taken to shake her confidence was the answer to the question: what brave soul would lead?
Hearing her own name escape Irwinn's lips left Ferawyn wide-eyed and feeling as though the rug had been pulled from under her feet. Although there was a commotion around her, with the arrival of old faces who had returned from many months away, and discussions of family ties that were merry coincidences, her mind was racing at the thought of the responsibilities that lay before her.
Drawing Irwinn aside, the man she had come to think of as a leader and a rock which grounded her kin, she voiced her concerns. How could she, a woman untested in battle and ill at ease with the prospect of such dangers, rally any confidence in those she would need to lead? Her winters were few, and though such comments were met with scorn and an eagerness to prove herself, there was truth in the words of men who called her a pup.
Perhaps he saw something in her, or merely wished to see it, but Irwinn believed her the most fit for the task. He would not have called for the responsibility to be placed on her shoulders had he not. There were a number of men who could have stepped up to lead, but it was the woman who stood before him that he felt right for leadership. If by the end of the month she could not see it herself, then arrangements would be made, but until that time it would be up to Ferawyn to find her answer.
With her jaw set determinedly and a drink in her hand, she returned to the main hall and the discussions taking place. Had she known better, she would have perhaps said her farewells for the evening and returned to the comfort of a hot meal at home with her father before turning in for bed, but she wasn't to know what news would find her next.
The arrival of a rather loud and animated old woman, who despite her ample curves and homely appearance, managed to instill fear in the grown men occupying the hall. This rolling pin wielding harridan was soon revealed to be Irwinn's wife, and after introductions were made, she was soon directing those present to gather around the table and fill empty bellies rather than allow hungry men to bicker out of want of food.
She showed a kindness toward Ferawyn that was confusing but most welcome. And it was with the warmth of the fire, a belly full of sweet treats, and the kindness of this woman that the unwelcome news was delivered. The man who she had placed so much stock in, who she had believed might be worth her time, had found himself a wife in her absence. At first she was shocked, a feeling which quickly gave way to a numbness that enveloped her, and so it was with a forced smile she accepted it.
Excuses made and good nights said, a quick departure took the young woman away from the stifling room and out into the cold night air, where breathing came more easily and the fog cleared from her head. The ride home would distance herself from her worries, she thought, and so it did for a while. She had not the stomach for supper that night, for it was already churning with anxiety over decisions to be made. And so she had crawled into bed, hoping that sleep would be the answer.
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It was dawn when her father finally stepped out of his bedroom and with blurry eyes noticed his daughter asleep on the mat in front of the fireplace. Breaga had dutifully curled up beside her, and upon seeing his master his tail began to wag, thudding against the floor. The noise waking her from her sleep, Ferawyn sat up groggily, ran a hand over her face and tried to rouse herself to the realm of the living. Looking up at her father, her eyes met with his and they share a smile. "C'mon then. Get up and I'll cook you breakfast" He offered, and in that moment she thought to herself, “All will be well”.
