This tale dates back to a few weeks before Awiergan's birth. His father was Ræsgan, and his mother was Fægwyn, both of them lived happily in a warm home within the solid walls of Snowbourn, strong was the love they had for each other and never did it seem to dim, even when they were parted by short distance or many leagues away. Fægwyn was fair and beautiful, her hair was golden and green were her eyes and slender was her stature. Ræsgan was tall and he had the arm of a swordsman, his hair too was golden but his eyes were a light blue, he was a soldier of the king's men but he did not boast in victory nor did he rejoice for slaying any men, even if those men turned to evil ways, he loathed the slaying of any man but gladly would he raise his sword against orcs, goblins or any other fouler servants of the enemy.
Fægwyn had no trade, she was a loyal wife and stayed within the walls of Snowbourn, tending to the needs of her husband whenever she could, for this she was glad. She loved his gratitude and he loved that ever did he reside within her thoughts even in his absence. Though they their marriage was still young and only eight months have passed since, soon would they see the birth of their own child but ere their child was born it came pass that Ræsgan was called to arms and was needed to ride towards the Wolds of the Riddermark.
They heard rumour that the Easterlings were stirring more nigh their boarders and the a brave Eored of riders crossed the Limlight and went and kept watchful eyes as they went upon the fields of Celebrant, yet they remained briefly and sighted naught of the Easterlings. Their quest was not yet complete for their troubles lied within The Brown Lands and that was whither their quest would lead them next. A few days had then passed since Ræsgan had left home and soon he found himself on the wet marshland a short way out of the brown lands, from tall reeds they kept watch and saw little. Then they slept. Within the night Ræsgan had taken his turn to keep watch and in the darkness something seemed to stir before him, though he could not make out what it was and curiosity drove him to go forth without a warning to the rest of the men. A grim night it was, for in the morning Ræsgan was not found on the spot from which he held watch, he was found a few metres away from their camp and he lied dead upon the cold floors of the marsh. Grim were the faces of the men that carried him home.
When Fægwyn was called to see his lifeless body she stared agape in disbelief, tears began to well from her eyes and she fell to her knees. Struggling to bear the loss of one she held deeply and soon would her child be born, after that day she had fallen silent and spoken little of anything to anyone. Though grief did not take her to her end, she desired to live on and not only did she know that her husband would wish it, she also wished to live to give their child life and so she did, but first she had moved away from Snowbourn for she wished to be somewhere quiet where less folk would bother her. She found herself a home a miles away from the walls of Snowbourn, and it was as she wished it. It was not isolated, for there were other houses surrounding and it was nigh to fields where corn grew.
She gave birth to a boy, she was glad but her grief remained and this boy she named Awiergan. Though she gave him a grim name she loved him with all her heart and mothered him as best she could as a widow. Time seemed to have gone by swift for her now, for it would seem that she now had some joy and her life, though when a few winters passed and Awiergan was a child whom could speak he came to his mother and asked her: "Mother, many others are there with a man who they call father. Why do I not have a father?" Then a grim shadow fell upon Frægwyn's face and she stood silent and looked to him for a while whilst she carefully pondered how to answer to his question, though as he waited his face bore no sadness, only curiosity. "Your father no longer lives, my son." she said, "He was taken- nay, slain a few months before I had given birth to you. He was felled by a sword wielded by Easterlings we believe, though there is no proof. Deeply did I love your father, and no matter how many tears I wept, no matter how many times I pleaded- he would not return from death. He was a noble man and true-hearted, my son, and he would have been a good father to you. Hold no grudge against him for not being here today, for if he could be here- he would."
Though tears began to linger in Fægwyn's eyes as she spoke, Awiergan did not weep. Little difference did knowing what happened to his father made to him, though it gave Awiergan much to ponder upon and indeed it had changed him. He too became silent and he loathed weapons, wars and conflict. He wished that he would have had a father like most other children and he hated the thing that took his father away. Hence forth he spoke little to any other children within Snowbourn and soon they too began to shun him, for they thought that he was queer and very few would approach him. Though their meetings would always tend to be short.
Fægwyn would oft play on her lute when Awiergan seemed stricken by grief, though it did little to cheer him it had captured his interest and from there on a love for music began to stir within him and he took interest in music itself and soon would his mother teach him how to play upon her lute. He learnt quickly the ways of the strings, though it was not expected. Long in the lines of Fægwyn's ancestry had they taught their daughters the ways of music and swift were they all to learn, it was not expected to see such traits in a boy and it soon became obvious to Fægwyn that Awiergan was more alike to her than Ræsgan. He even had the same eyes as she.
As Awiergan had became adolescent he had not touched the hilt of a sword nor would he go nigh to one, he shunned them as if the touch would burn his fingers. Often he thought of his father and pondered on what he was truly like, his mother before had spoken to him her description of what his father was like and he would imagine as to what he was truly like. Though his mother never married again and Awiergan was raised fatherless. It was a choice made by Fægwyn that never should she again love another man, for she believed that no man would she ever love as deeply nor could any man love her as Ræsgan did. And now she had given all her love to her son Awiergan.
A few years had passed and a cold winter had come upon the Riddermark, by then Awiergan was nigh the age of sixteen winters. A handsome boy he had become yet his silence remained, among those days the only one who he would ever speak to was his Fægwyn. Though she loved his voice, she wished that he would speak to others and perhaps make friends, yet she would not ask him to do so. In the midst of the cold winter night Awiergan and Fægwyn were sitting before the fire place in their home and little other light did they have save for a few candles. Together they spoke quietly when there was suddenly a loud knock upon the door, immediately it drew their attention and Fægwyn went to open the door.
There stood a dark figure amidst the darkness and he begged for coin, and Fægwyn said to him, 'I am sorry, weary traveler, but little have we and even less to share. Our home is not big enough to house another, even for only one night.' and she spoke with wariness, for no reason had she to trust the man, even less reason to house him for the night if he would ask. Then the beggar stood still and silent, as a statue contemplating over these words through long frustration. For a while Fægwyn stood and looked to him with sympathy, yet his face she could not see. As she began to close the door he stirreed and he placed his foot between the door, barging it from closure and Fægwyn scoffed at him, 'We have naught to give to you, begone!'
And suddenly he brought forth his strength and thrust the door open, the impact shoving Fægwyn to the floor and Awiergan suddenly stood still as a statue as he watched. He was afraid, his body quivered and he knew not what do against such violence. Though he desired to protect his mother, this he knew. The stranger stepped into their home and his face was revealed, indeed he was flaxen haired as a man of the Riddermark and too did he bear the accent of one. What insanity drove him to such ire is unknown to Awiergan and his mother, though Fægwyn would not easily allow a man to intrude her home, nor would she let him come nigh to her son at least not without her own sacrifice. She sought to stand but the man's attention was drawn to her, he raised his foot and placed it down upon her stomach to keep her down. And so she was struck back upon the floor with a yelp, desperately trying to wiggle herself out but it was vain. And so the man began to taunt and curse her, and suddenly he raised his foot and brought it back down upon her stomach with force and she cried in pain. He did so again, and again she cried and he kept cursing her. Tears began to slip down Awiergan's face and a sudden he reacted with little thought, rather love lead him and he ran to the one other room the house had, the bedroom. The stranger kept striking and cursing at Fægwyn that he had paid little heed, though he thought that the boy had gone to cower, but when he revealed himself in the doorway Awiergan stood with a sword held in hands. The same sword that his father once bore to battle, and his hands shivered with it in his grasp but he was reluctant use it. He stood once more one who was shock and he was afraid. Then the stranger turned his attention and twisted intent upon Awiergan, though seeing the boy wielding a sword only but amused him and little threat did he find.
The stranger began to approach Awiergan, seeming to disregard Fægwyn who weakly began grasped unto a nearby shelf upon which a candlestand holding a lit candle stood. Awiergan's arms shivered and shook as the man approached, and even as Awiergan stepped back in fear he kept approaching till Awiergan was entrapped with his back against the wall, he had nowhere else to go and at that moment the stranger was struck at the back of his head with an iron candlestand and he cried in pain, then Awiergan seized the opportunity and stabbed forth the sword into the chest of the stranger and let go of the hilt as the lifeless corpse now fell to the floor and he stood there in shock, though there was no sword hilt he held his hands nigh together as if seeking to grasp one.
Though little heed did they pay to the now fallen candle upon the floor till the boards began to blaze and Fægwyn who lied there with little strength strength demanded that Awiergan should flee, by then his mind was clustered with horror and he knew that his hands have just taken a life and suddenly he fled like one witless and as he ran tears fell down his cheeks for he sought to escape from the horror that he had just passed.
In the morning Awiergan was found by Edelred, and he sat with his arms around his risen knees as he wept. And Edelred had taken sympathy upon the boy, he inquired of what Awiergan was doing, yet he did not wish to speak of it, he inquired about whither those who held care for Awiergan was and he spoke naught of it either. And he perceived that ill had befallen upon the life of the poor boy and had taken pity on him, he bid the boy to come with him to live upon his farmstead and Awiergan said naught against it; so he was later raised by Edelred and he was taught in the ways of the sword, for now he thought that perhaps if he were better with a blade then he might protect those who he held dear.
Upon the morning of the burning Fægwyn was never found, all that remained was a house burnt to the ground and Awiergan never returned to that spot.
