“Drink of this...”
A hand pressed against the back of her head, lifting it slightly. The smooth over-used wooden rim of a bowl pushed against her bottom lip.
“Drink it... you will feel better for it.”
The liquid was cold and soothing. Passing through her, calming nerves and woe; her shaking limbs subsided and her eyes flickered open. What she saw was a distant camp fire, its flames casting light above and glancing over-hanging branches. Around its base the light caught the faces of two men, their beards braided and brows imposing; casting shadows within their faces save for the glimmer of light catching their eyes. The man who held her and helped her to drink also bore a beard, red in hue. Clad in mail he knelt upon one knee, a dour expression upon his face. She recognised neither of the men, though the dark concealed most of their features apart from the one at her side. Not long had it been till her eyes rolled and she drifted out of consciousness. He laid her down gently and set the bowl to one side, throwing his cloak over her.
“Eadgard, come to the fire! The woman will be fine, get some rest.”
Shifting upwards from his knee, he glanced toward his companions and the fire. The slow shake of his head providing only a pondering answer as his gaze became thoughtful, running a hand over his rough, bedraggled beard. The two at the fire began murmuring amongst themselves, the smell of meat cooking rising up into the woodsmoke. Eadgard walked over to the camp and perched alongside his companions. The nearest, Beadwof, clapped his hand against Eadgard’s shoulder blade giving a firm nod of his head toward the plating up of food.
“Eat some.”
Eadgard had become distracted again, looking over to the woman as she slept, now peacefully. Before she was riddled with discomfort, tossing and turning in troubled reverie; but now she laid still. Only did the scent rising from the plate now positioned beneath his face, still held by Beadwof, make him turn his head away. He clutched the plate with a thankful nod to both men as he began to eat. The night had drawn on long. Thrice the fire had to be tended to and after lengthy discussions, pleasing the curiosity of Eadgard, they pondered as a group why this lass had come hither; and what had beset her. So long they had spent and brooded over, that sleep overcame them one by one, save Eadgard who resided in murmur and thought as he rested against the trunk of a tree.
Dawn began edging its way, illuminating and colouring the sky with pale grey and blue. No clouds could be seen and the sun was weak. Crisp and cold the day became, more-so now that the campfire had diminished. A lone steed, bearing saddle, wandered through the small dale; its hooves tearing up clumps of moistened earth and soil. It meandered in circles, restless, for awhile until it ventured toward three bound and armour clad horses resting in shelter not far from the camp. The woman stirred from her deep slumber, dis-comfort ebbing its way amongst the dawns cold. The men at the camp still lay in sleep, even the man propped against the tree.
Her limbs felt somewhat rejuvenated, glad at the sleep she was able to muster. The feeling of being able to continue onwards was fore in her mind; though still not altogether there, she felt better then she had in many days. Rising from where she lay, she noticed the horse. Returned. Dizziness swelled and embraced her for a time, teetering to and fro in an effort to overcome it. A wave of nausea passed and her vision cleared as she wandered toward the mare, passing the camp as quietly as she was able.
“ Geþancol, Myrhoa, you have returned...”
She ran a hand over the steeds mane and across its flank, continuing to speak quietly as she began to unfasten the weighted saddle.
“Undernrest, hm? Get some... we have a long journey ahead of us.”
“Is that so?” The voice, quizzical but gentle erupted from behind her.
Turning swiftly she noted the man who had spent the evening taking care of her; his posture firm and resolute and his face hinting at no emotion.
“I did not see you...”
“Forgive my intrusion then, but tell me... you wish to travel onward despite your health? For today you may feel stronger, but I wager it shall not last.”
The woman now became motionless, a slight frown creasing her forehead. Her acceptance of prying, and being told of her weakness was far from keen. She would quickly come to anger when being told what to do, whether she was indeed doing something in folly and haste. Being proved wrong would be fronted by heightened angst in emotion. But yet, now she was silenced, she did not fire back. She simply stood, uncertain of herself and what to say; if anything at all.
“I am only troubled for the sake of your well-being. My lady, you are far from farmstead, hamlet or burg. I urge you to seek more rest and clarity.”
“And I should do this here? Amongst briar and stone?”
The man stepped forward, ready to release the saddle from her grasp, she held to it firmly, determined; and with such action, he rose to ire.
“Tell me! Why are you here? What brought you? What had you lying here feverish and waylaid!”
“I do not know....”
“Do not speak to me like some afeared coney! You are strong-willed, I can see. You bear blade and ride here alone, do not lie to me.”
Once more silence overcame her and she let go her grip of the carven leather saddle. She uttered plainly,
“Nay, I should not. I mean to thank you.”
“Eadgard, is who you thank. My kinsmen, Beadwof and Abrecan have ridden with me from Aldburg.”
Eadgard laid the saddle to one side and stepped closer toward the steed, his demeanour softened, anger quelled.
“This is a fine horse, my lady. Though its temperament seems not unlike yours. Fitting.”
He bound the horse to the tree amongst the other steeds, gentle and nurturing as he did so. Finally he turned and addressed the woman once more.
“You must eat. Come.”
And so they returned to the camp, the fire was lit once more and the smell of food wafted from it, stirring Beadwof and Abrecan from their slumber. They ate in silence mostly, though eyes remained fixed with intrigue upon the woman. Eadgard observed each of them in turn whilst his thoughts stirred. Once they had finished their meal, Beadwof and Abrecan began collating their things, packing and readying themselves for an onward journey; yet Eadgard waited.
“Eadgard, let us not tarry here!”
The woman had resided to observation, waiting for them to move onwards so that she may do so in turn and without an other to tell her otherwise.
“Beadwof, Abrecan! I wish to speak.”
Eadgard's tone resounded with the air of command. The two men eyed each other, shrugging, self-defeated.
“What is it? Do not say you have decided to set us back, for the sake of this... this woman?!”
Abrecan sneered his words, paying little heed to nearby company.
“Quiet! This woman needs aid. And we shall give it, or I shall. You may continue onward, or you may ride at my side. In time I shall take this woman and her steed to a more sheltered place. So speak! Tell me what you decide.”
“Hah! You have lost your mind Eadgard!” Beadwof bellowed outward, “That is my decision!”
And with that the two men took upon their war-horses, exchanging little words in parting. Eadgard stood, pacing back and forth for 'ere on end. The woman rose from her seat, wandering up toward him and clutching his leather-bound arm,
“Eadgard, rider of Aldburg... you need not have done this.”
He stopped in his tracks and looked upon her. The waves of her hair caught the silver rays of sunlight, her face seemed fair in the light despite tarnished with travel and dirt and the sliver of split flesh crossing her cheekbone. It was healing, this scar, but red as though not much time had passed. Though not bleeding, it was still near fresh yet unclean. Despite this she appeared radiant to him beneath that pale sun. And all the questions which ran through his mind and had uttered, he realised;
“Your name, you have not told me... ”
((note: - the continuation of 'Recollection and Reminisce' is purposefully fragmented, and not linear))
