It was already dark when Geridrifa's outline was to be seen on the courtyard outside of the Dawnhall. The sound of his leather hauberk stretching and the pace of his boots disturbed the rustic peace that would fall on most nights in this land. If one were to be there, they may have noticed that his pace was a little slower than usual and a letter was held between his fingers. Crumbled. His brow was heavy with thought and in his eyes the dim light that came from a few windows was reflected. It was encouraging warmth and it made him cringe. Even with the sun gone now, it had been a hot day. The grass had dried and many patches turned yellow, the crickets played tunes on their legs and a moth took the pleasure to settle on his lock of hair which always stood up. He noticed these things, were otherwise he would not have given them a second thought. He wiped a cold sweat from his brow and then he rose to the door. He took in a final breathe and as he entered he immediately slapped in the face by the heat that had lingered there. With goosebumps settling on his skin he trooped through the first room, .. a quick drink. Then he looked around.
Some of the candles shone mirthlessly. Melted wax spilling over tables. "Someone must have forgotten to douse them.. or someone has been here for a long while." He emptied his cup, set it down and went to the upper rooms.
The hall never inspired much cheer in him, but as he went up the cramped stairway he noted that it felt particularly morose. The dark walls that seemed to close in, the creaking of the wooden boards beneath him, the dim light of the candle he was holding to guide him through the building. Must be just his mind conjuring it up. Then as he reached the final step he took note of the single figure standing there. Front or back he had seen her often enough in the last few months to recognise her. She was dead silent, as was the figure that laid before her on the deathbed. Geirdrifa blew out the smudged of wax that had been the leftover of candle. Almost as if in ritual the smoke rose up in a thin gracefull curling line. He set a hand on her shoulder, comforting a young companion that may not have had seen much of death yet. She was definitely not showing much emotion. And their he lay, captain Hardoleth. His features still and white as bone. He did not appear more peacefull like this than he had been during his life. Geirdrifa could only wonder at what the last thoughts of such a man would have been, with a life like his left behind and nothing to be done about it anymore. The nobility of his soul would spark his compassion. His mind would suggest the captain likely has left a will of sorts, perhaps the others and himself may find out what it would be. Something that will be as he was in life, .. or would even he find remorse at the end of his days and plead his guilt or thoughts of sadness? .. He shrugged, it was not of Geirdrifa's business most likely. Then he watched Nellye and she dared to lay hands on the body. "Just making sure he truly is dead.", the body did not open it's eyes, did not stir, did not breathe. "Done.", he thought. She laid the sheathes of the bed over his face again, where the outline still was revealed.
"Let us go.", she breathed. He nodded his agreement. She blew out the final candle that was burning and in a flash where the body could be seen it now was hidden in the dark room. It's presence fresh in their minds still. Their footsteps could be heard as they slowly left , the stairs creaked again. It was a short night, the sun's light already rising up again, after only being away for a few hours. The dim light of the day's birth shone through the curtains of the window on the man that had passed. Dawn.
