Full tale begins from: Tales of Their Past - Fænge-Nædl
Continuation of: Tales of Their Past - A Brother's Bitter Gift
Meadowyn happened to awaken early that morning. She rubbed her eyes to fend off the haze of the morning and the scent of something tasteful was embracing her nose. She sniffed once or twice and then looked out of the nearby window; it was still dark, and there was not yet a single shed of twilight judging from what her view gave her. She stood up and checked her sleeping gown that she was wearing, adjusting it so that it would reveal a little less skin. She wore no shoes and the touch of cold was upon her feet. All was dark - save for the faint light that came through her window. There was some snoring and the breaths of sleeping family members to be heard all about.
She went out of her door and thus within the main hall of their home and there was a fire in the hearth that shed orange light about it, and there was a stew upon the fire, the tasteful scent ever growing stronger. The front door was open wide and she was glad that no breeze came through it. She grabbed herself a bowl from the mantelpiece and stooped to fill it with the meaty stew, and the smell and warmth delighted her. She smiled as she stood up once more, now seeking to solve the mystery of the opened door.
With bare feet she stepped out of the house, seeming to have little care for the small stones upon the path way, the fresh air of the spring morning was too delightful for any small detail to dismay her. There was little sound to be heard - save for the trickle of the River flowing through the town that they could not see from their home. There were some guardsman with torches near the town's gate, but otherwise everyone else was still well asleep. The moon was full in the sky, and to that she owed her fair visibility to. Upon the fence that surrounds that foundation of their home she saw a figure leaned against. One leg was crossed behind the other, and his arms were folded upon the fencing in his slight stoop. There was a bowl beside with the grip of a spoon prodding out. Meadowyn could identify this figure easily, for he was her brother, Ægáldred.
Her feet softly stepped across the ground, a stone or two pricking against the bottom, yet she seemed to not mind. She gave him a brotherly nudge on his shoulder as she went to join him, leaning against the fence in almost the same manner. He looked to her quickly, having been deep in his own thoughts, thus startled out of them. A smile come upon his lips. "Good morning" he greeted. "Good morning," she began as she took a sip from the broth of the stew, "The pleasantries of last night still linger over you, I see." Ægáldred chuckled, and a hand seemed to fall upon his sword's pommel, he had it with him, and he was proud of it. Meadowyn's gaze followed down the length of his arm to behold it. She had yet another sip of her stew as she contemplated. "You fought well." She said to him and his smile only grew, "Better than I thought I ever would have. I felt so confident when it all began, and then there was doubt. And the doubt was scary. It was like an overwhelming shadow falling upon me, and every where I looked I would see dark." And his face grew grim. Meadowyn looked upon him carefully.
"And that is why you do not doubt, little Brother." she started, "And not only would I say that your new sword brought this victory, but skill of your own too."
"And even so it may perhaps be skill wasted. For am I no Rider as you and Meadwine are. I do not hate my charge, I enjoy it more than fighting. I only would that father will see it as I do."
Meadowyn reached out and clasped upon his shoulder, "Father is a stubborn man who likes things his way, he will not always have it so. He has seen this, but do not let this burden you, if that is the reason why you linger outside on your lonesome." She lifted her bowl in gratitude to him, "Thank you." and then she ate a bit as they continued to converse.
To be continued: Tales of Their Past - The Morning's Calm II
