A lonesome traveller enters Bree.
He marches with the confident tread of a warrior. Upon his soldiers' frame he carries his hauberk. Proud and straight is his back, his head is held high and a smile adorns his face that would not be lifted by the cold wind biting his exposed skin. His hair stands up in salute, chalk or some other means keeps the lock upright in his otherwise short hair. He has a shield on his back, it depicts a knotwork pattern of a woman and a child standing beneath a white tree. All around are Mannish runes like stars, the image had been cloven and repainted many a time. He had come from the western gate and was heading up the slope, he had almost reached this famous inn now. Two figures were talking there, a woman and a dwarf. "Greetings folk!", the man said to them, "Will you both perhaps tell me where a man of my talents can find work in this village full of farmers?" He was still smiling. No arrogance lay on his voice or visage.
The woman turned she was impressed by the sight. In a frail voice she responded, "Skarly wouldn't know. What talents does the pretty man have?" The other figure turned aswell, "Gungur at your service! And if I am correct I would believe you are a mercenary, given that excess of weaponry you have upon you!" The man nodded, "A Soldier of Fortune I am, but a mercenary is perhaps a more common means to describe it." He lowered the spear he had been holding, butting it on the cobbled road. The woman was bluntly staring at him now, something about her made him think she was a bit moon-touched. The dwarf on the other hand, "I believe you may ask around. There would be more of your sort around, sellswords, mercenaries and blades for hire of all kinds. Why would you not ask for the Bloody Dawn? They seem the most numerous these days."
Weeks had past, months even.
There was a hall removed from Breeland by half an hour of walking more or less, there the man had been offered the chance to do his work. Halsarn, a proud man of the north with the face and shoulders of a prizefighter and an old comrade-in-arms was found there, "What are you doing here!", the man chuckled as he embraced him! "I do not know myself comrade.", he replied in the same old fashion as he had done in the past, "Just trying to keep my purse filled up and teaching someone the trade. And you..Geirdrifa?" "Seeking my fortune comrade.", came the reply with a smile. The hall itself was filled with all manner of men and women. Bound by the way of the sword. A peculiar one had caught his attention, she was a small thing with short-cropped hair, with an inborn jovial demeanor. There was an evening where he had been eating porridge at a fire, not speaking a word unto her for the entire duration of that time. She had been sitting there, staring ahead of her, not doing much really. A small recollection of a contract that had been finished reminded Geirdrifa that Halsarn was rather fond of her.
Then someone entered the otherwise empty hall. "Nellye, what are you doing here?! I have been looking around for you all day!!", an angry figure appeared and stormed over towards her. He was armed and bore some sort of sigil that a few in this brotherhood wore. "I wanted to be left in peace and have something to eat! May I!?", she yelled back at him. Then another woman came in, "He was worried sick about you Nellye! Aren't you ashamed?!" The angered man bore a short raven cut and a black beard , the woman on the other hand had a fiery mane on her head as red as her face! Geirdrifa kept eating, not allowing himself to be disturbed. Then though Blackbeard grabbed the young woman by the hair, "You are coming with me you are!!", with his arm he yanked at her. At this time Geirdrifa rose up, "I did not know that men in these lands were allowed to treat their women as if they were cattle. Even if so full of farmers' sons and millers' daughters as it is." Fieryface screeched so loud her voice echoed from the walls, "What are you meddling into?!! Stay out of this! It's not your concern!!!" Geirdrifa stepped forward, his smile disappearing. Silence, Nellye looked at him while tears winked out of her eyes while Blackbeard's fingers still pulled her hair, "Don't get yourself in trouble you can't handle newcomer!! You may not know it yet but I'm the lieutenant here and if you-" Geirdrifa didn't move an inch except for his eyes. He noted that Nellye clutched the man's hands to wrest herself free of his hold as his voice was still talking. Geirdrifa spoke up as the room was left silent again, "You will let her go.", he commanded calmly.
By either this Nellye wresting herself free or by Geirdrifa's voice or maybe a shred of deceny left in the man, his fingers unclenched. "You have some nerve newcomer!! Be glad that we aren't allowed to draw swords on eachother or you would have been less fortunate!! ... And YOU!! You I -WILL- talk later at home!!", Blackbeard stormed outside while Fieryface stood in shock. Nellye and Geirdrifa were looking at her quietly, .. being outnumbered had locked her tongue behind her teeth. She had turned into Blanchface before she scuttled after Blackbeard. "Thank you.", Nellye said. Geirdrifa stared down at her, "Ha! I believe you require some practice, wouldn't you agree?"
Time passed further on, Geirdrifa had taught her basic discipline and the principal use of several weapons. She was far from learned, but eager. In fact she was his most favorite pupil. Most could not be tasked to stand in a straight line, usually those that convinced themselves to be invulnerable warriors like the stories. Whichever stories they may have been fed atleast.Then there were a few with apt skill and willingness, Basaran was one of them aswell. A man that Geirdrifa considered a noble character in a place full of depravity. He had always found it a shame afterwards that he never got to know the man any better. For indeed the end of this brotherhood's times of glory were done. The leader died. Only a handful that cared to be present wept, most did not and appeared largely unmoved. Geirdrifa spared a glance to the crowd more so while the body was interred into the ground. A fair couple, the man Aegaldred and the woman Dernwyn. He smiled a bit. The woman caught his eyes and nodded back. Then he heard a muffled crash behind him coming from the hall. He seemed to have been the only one to notice. Was it already being robbed even now when this brotherhood had sunk so low? It appeared to be just that, several young men came walking out of the door, unashamed while they had possessions of all kinds in their hands. "Nice haul Much! Think we can cut this statue apart and sell it in pieces?!", the man known as Magpie chuckled, while another dressed in bright colors of the woods replied, "Can always give it a try! Hahah!"
Boredom.
Since this brotherhood had been reduced to a small collective of vagrants Geirdrifa had decided to resign. With nothing else for it he had spent most of his days in the Prancing Pony. He had a few contracts still in those days, names of all kinds sprung up. Hofgaer, Eceric, Frostbite, Havaldr. Some old members that were part of this brotherhood and ofcourse Nellye and Halsarn still were due even though even that became less and less. He lost himself in the drink at the end even, with nothing to do in the hours of idleness. Nothing much appeared to go well in his life anymore, neither personal nor in work. Then as his fellow mercenaries or friends left without a trace or went on to contracts he had found his breaking point. He pinched a coin between his fingers that was strapped around his neck with a string, he was staring at it drunkenly..
It was raining, his hair was flat against his face. Muck caked against him, it had been the last two months with nothing for him to do, he crawled from a pool and stumbled unto the streets. He nearly bounced into someone that had walked by there.. "Geirdrifa, is tha' you?", a female's voice said surprised! He was too far gone, his voice came out in a slur, "S-someone still remembers me then? .. Bwuark.." The girl pushed her hood back and looked offended by his reply, "Wha' have ye don' to yerself?! Jus' look at the state o' ya!" He grumbled and hooked an arm around a lamppost, he leaned his head forward and was sick against it. A yellow pudding reeking of digested alcohol splattered in the muck and began streaming downhill. They were at the slope that he had first trodden upon when he entered this village. "The state of me?!", he yelled while he tried to keep himself upright, "Ha! Just look at the state of this entire place, it's all .. hmfk.. Where were you and Halsarn!?", he yelled eventually, "You missed out! Frostbite and me have been waiting for an eternity!" The girl cocked her head to one side while her arms folded before her chest, "It just so happen'd tha' I couldn't find him!! There was no reason for us to return an' now tha' I look at ye, I think that may be all for the better!!" Geirdrifa puked once more, his face white while another vile stream of matter came out of him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "All gone...", he said to himself more so. She tilted her head the other way, "Wha'? Who's gone? Yer talkin' nonsense!" "Everyone!", he grumbled and bumped his head against the post, "I have less now than I had when I first set foot in this place..!" She blankly stared at him, "Wha' about the wifey?", she said sensing there lay the problem. "Everyone..", he mumbled again and then another time he heaved up the contents of his stomach.. "Yer drunk.. and bein' silly. We will look for her soon, yes? Now get cleaned up, yer a mess! We may chat later, but now I have other.. things to do!" She pulled her hood back up while keeping an eye on him. He sniffed while raindrops were streaming from him, cleaning atleast some muck and matter off from him. The malaise in his mind pierced by the offer of help, he was not so pitiful that he would make a scene like most in this hour that he had hit rock bottom. Quietly he offered the slightest of nods. She ran off in a hurry all the while he was holding to post like a lover desperate not to slip in the puddle he himself had produced.
A week later.
Geirdrifa had been sitting at the fountain outside of the courtyard near the Prancing Pony inn. He had been whetting his knife early that morning. He looked fresh. His hair stood up tall and he seemed healthier than he had been in a while. He had picked up his exercises again and was not surprised he had lost some portion of his strength and flexibility, a just punishment he said to himself. His father should've seen him like that, what a disgrace he had been for letting himself go in such a way. The sun was rising and the door of the inn opened. Nellye came out with some young man, they had drink with them. He did not cease with his work. Rust on his weaponry, something that would have gotten you a cuff behind the ear in the old auxilliary and latrine duty for the next month. She came towards him, possibly drunk. Geirdrifa could not help but notice the boy trying to seduce her, wasn't he like that himself in his younger days? .. No he was worse. It made him smile.
Then another familiar came from the other side of the courtyard, it was Oldur, "OI! Where have you been hidin'? Been lookin' around for days!!" Nellye looked at him, "Perhaps ye has been the one hidin' all the time eh?!" Tension. Geirdrifa thought for a moment to himself while his knife went in it's sheathe and his whetstone went back in a leather pouch on the bench he used to sit, "May aswell practice my form again." Thus he stood up in between Oldur and Nellye. The two men knew eachother a little, there was history there from an earlier contract. Nothing that should warrant what happened. Words were thrown back and forth, knowing Oldur and his nasty temper it would be a matter of moments before a blow was landed and so it happened! Madly they began raining blows upon one another, a crowd gathered around them all the while Nellye and her supposed lover were standing and watching. Geirdrifa had technique, Oldur had his rage it seemed as if they would keep pounding and punching upon eachother until the end of times the way it was going. Yet it was not to be. "Oi, wha' are ye doin'?", Geirdrifa heard Nellye say and then a white flash! His limbs crumbled and a sharp pain wracked the back of his head!! Nothing made sense all of a sudden, he could only see Oldur stepping over him while he lay down on the ground. When had he fallen? Voices, bright lights, blurred vision and some wet matter running over his face. Was he bleeding now? He did not know what happened until he felt the sudden need to heave on the streets. His stomach emptied, he could feel his arms shivering from shock while he tried to see what was happening around him. Atleast that puke offered a bit of relief.
Yelling voices, a scream and the sound of iron biting into flesh. He felt he was lifted, one eye refused to work so he closed it. The other saw something else though, Oldur was on the ground, his leg covered in red while he cursed endlessly. Nellye at his side trying to get the bleeding to stop..
That is when he felt all go still in his mind, nothing but peace. He heard a tune in the distance, something that sounded like music from the northern lands. He recognized drums among instruments he had no knowledge of. Monstrous beasts were roaring beyond the horizon. He suddenly was sitting on a bed in a tumbled down farmhouse and beside an old man with a long white beard and a staff stood a smiling woman with hair as high blonde as his own. Both were looking at him and he noticed she was young, younger than him and she wept tears.. of joy? He realized he wept aswell even if he would not understand why. Even the old man had to wink away a tear while a sad comic smile stood etched on his ancient face. "My boy..", she said and she reached out her hands to hold him, her hands were rough from labour, but softer than anything he could remember. "My boy.", she whimpered again with a quivering smile. The old man stepped on and gently pulled her back, she sobbed and a shiver passed through her body. Geirdrifa blinked and suddenly it was only him and the old man, standing in a forest that was more familiar. Ithilien. The elder's voice came out, "You need not tell me a story.", the man said with a grim expression that would have made Geirdrifa laugh had he not been so amazed at the sights. Then another tap on the ground and they were in Bree again. Old eyes stared into his, whom held things within them to frighten the bravest of the brave, images of war flickered there. Images of the Grey Hill, of him freeing a southron woman from captivity and more that was familiar. The old man's voice seemed pleased,"You have done well. Do not stop!" Without warning a gnarled old hand pushed Geirdrifa in his face and as he closed his eyes he felt a dull throbbing on his neck.
His eyes opened again. He was all alone in the courtyard, his body numb from the shock, the dream and ... the cold. What was that awful stink? .. He looked at his boots and saw a pool of puke not too far from them. Further a dried puddle of blood lay on the cobblestones. He looked around himself and groaned as his hand felt at the lump adorning the back of his head. Still despite this he seemed lifted from heavy thoughts, he laughed like he had not done a very long time ago. With the sun finally ascended from the horizon in the background, so did Geirdrifa rise up. The weight of all his deeds within his green eyes, but he felt young and refreshed beyond what sleep could do. He turned to look into the east. While then the sun's warmth and light enveloped his face he smiled. Not a smile to hide fear or to impress anyone including himself.
It was the healthy smile of a man who knew what he was going to do.
