Gwennol knelt before the fire, as a thick white plume of smoke rose, fragrant with herbs thrown in among the oak logs. She watched the flames, her eyes slightly dark underneath and she murmured a repetitive chant, rolling her thumb against the antler charm around her neck. Pren had been gone for weeks on the errand that sent him north with the man who had been at times both friend and enemy. Her worry grew as the time passed, not only for her journey home but that the man she had come to look to as a protector and friend, now future husband, had not returned. Her prayers to the Huntsman revealed nothing, the spirits of the northern land lay dormant beneath the farm fields and stone towns. No one spoke to them anymore, but now and then she would feel the presence, as if a shade passed through her. Nothing strong but a reminder that once the lands belonged to Rhi Helvarch as her home did now.
Pren walked along the dirt road, his one leg almost shuffling while the other pushed along to compensate, still sturdy and strong. Beaten and bruised all over, with dust and mud covering parts of him, his dark eyes were still sharp and watchful. A faint clink of iron could be heard as the chain still hung around his thick wrist as he slowly made his way to the camp.
At the sound of the limping footsteps, she blinked her bloodshot eyes and rubbed them, looking up as the figure emerged from beyond the haze of smoke. Cysgod cawed and flapped his wings, flying down to perch on Pren's head.
Pren lifted his hand up to run one of his bloody fingers along the birds feathers, heading into the camp some more before he stood up straighter. Trying to look strong and proud as usual, his left arm curled up against him and his right eye swollen closed.
Gwennol stood up quickly, her eyes on him, already evaluating his stance and the vivid bruises on his tanned skin, "You've returned." She stated needlessly, the flicker of emotion in her river colored eyes the only betrayal of her stoic countenance. She walked quickly around the fire, shooing the craban off of his head before looking up at him, "You look...alive." She touched his left arm gingerly, feeling the tension of the tight muscle. "Come to the fire."
The big warrior followed along, nodding as he looked down at her. His dark eyes looking slightly pain filled though his face did not show much else. "I have to stay alive. Otherwise you would be stuck in these lands."
Gwennol went to get her bag immediately gathering a few other items when he spoke. She paused and looked at him over the dancing flames and swirls of smoke. "I prayed to the Huntsman every night and day...when you did not return timely..." She moved over to him, gesturing for him to sit on a fur that she laid out, "I was worried but I had faith that you would return." She met his eyes and held his gaze, "You've always come back."
Pren moved over to the furs before he sat on it, looking into her eyes with a small nod, not saying much more before he opened his right eye gingerly, blinking it a few times.
She knelt beside him and shook her head, looking at his damaged eye, "It's healed some but it is a very lucky injury...any closer you would have lose your eye." She touches the swelling lightly and then nodded to herself, making a mental note. "Your arm," she moved to his left side, her robes rustling, "Can you straighten it?"
Pren shrugged his right shoulder before he tried to straighten it, he managed to do it though he bit his lip and his arm shook a good bit.
Gwennol watched him closely and put her small hands on his thick bicep, gently probing along to the elbow and then back up to the shoulder, "Can you tell me how it happened?"
"Fell off a ledge. Landed on it before having to carry a man for half a day."
Gwennol touched his shoulder, feeling for heat and tenderness, "The things you get up to..." She looked over his clothing and the chains, "It must be a long story. We'll have to find a smith for those shackles."
Pren gave a small laugh as he watched her hands move up and down his arm, "With lots of killing."
Gwennol huffed a breath, a smile slowly tugging at the corners of her mouth, "I'm for certain of that.I am just glad it is not your death that would end the tale." She nodded to herself and then gently put his arm down, "I'm going to give you a sage poultice for the swelling but we need to keep it immobile until it heals, the muscles are likely still torn and tendons strained if not torn.
Pren just looked at her puzzled and confused, not really understanding most of what she said but he nodded.
Gwennol gave him a slight crooked smile, "You can't move it until I tell you."
Pren looked rather shocked and annoyed at this news, glaring at his arm. "Fine.."
Gwennol went to heat water, placing several handfuls of sage leaves into as it heated. She returned with a familiar pot and gestured to him, "Let me see any cuts. And you'll do as I say, if you want to keep swinging an axe with both hands." She knelt beside him, ready to help him remove any obstructing clothing.
Pren started to take off his ripped and bloody ragged shirt, "Yes, Chief." He spoke in a sort of jesting manner, the worn cloth falling away to reveal the marks on his chest.
Gwennol smiled slightly at his joke but it faded as she saw all the cuts that have started to heal, "Pren..." She looked them over, satisfied they are not infected and then picked up the bloodstained shirt noting the black of it. She looks at the remnants of the chain and sighs, "I am glad you escaped, maybe you will tell me of it some time?" She examines the longer cuts on his chest and right arm but the skin is knitting up nicely. "Someone helped you," she stated and then looked at his legs, "And down there?"
"I will tell you.. though it will take a while. Only a little though.. I don't trust them as I trust you. Especially after I tried to kill their leader.."
Pren looked down to his trousers, pulling them off and revealing an inflamed looking gash on his right thigh. Gwennol took a deep breath at the sight of it and kept her face blank, she went to the fire and removed the steaming water scented by sage and other fragrant herbs. She held her amulet and murmured a rhythmic prayer before returning. She begn to clean the wound with a bit of linen, wiping at it to remove any sweat and dirt, "Was it that man again?"
Pren replied, "I was with that man, but he did not do it. Me and him were captured as prisoners, taking to fight in the the Pit.'
Gwennol softened her expression, "And that was their second mistake." She begins to smear in the herbal mixture then binds his leg in a long piece of linen. "What happened?" she asked as she tied it into place before moving to his shoulder once more.
"The whole thing or just part of it?" he asked.
Gwennol placed wet sprigs of sage against the swelling of his shoulder, the plants natural cooling properties would be felt before she begins making a sling, "You tell me what you wish to tell me." She looked at him in the face, "I make no demands."
"Well. I left here to start with.. we went north before we went into a field where evil spirits dwellt. Causing things to appear.. and harm. Then we killed some men that needed killing in a ruin before I tracked down a dead man.. then we got captured by plenty of men before being dragged even further north in a cart. Then we fought and fought before we were put in a place that is says, '- like the Dead-lands in Dunland.. then we escaped from dead-men before riding into a camp, killing and taking disguises before we were cornered, I was put in these chains.. before finally we stole horses and rode down, then I came here," he replied, adjusting his leg to be more comfortable.
Gwennol frowned at the mention of evil spirits, "A field of cuthraul..." She went silent, listening to the rest of his tale. When he was done, she breathed out and lifted the sling, helping him fit his arm into it. "It is the will of Rhi Helvarch that you lived through so much peril."
Glancing at her, he asked, 'Is that so?'
Gwennol nodded, "He gives you great strength." She moved up onto her knees so she can reach around him, tying the sling behind his neck. Her face was close to his and she spoke quietly, "He has answered my prayers before."
Pren spoke rather softly though it still had a harshness to it, "And what did you pray for?"
Gwennol kept her arms around his neck, her fingers still on the linen knot. She dropped her gaze, her face blushing slightly before lifting her eyes to meet his, "I prayed for him to give you the strength of the ox, the fierceness of the dragon, the speed of the stag, the cunning of the falcon...and the stubbornness of the boar." She fluttered her gingery lashes before continuing, "I prayed he kept you on the path that would lead you back to me." She looked at him for a long moment, her mouth slightly parted, a flicker of uncertainty on her face before she leaned in and pressed her lips to his bearded cheek.
Pren looked down at himself slightly before looking back up at her, thinking to himself of all of the clans before he looked quickly to an empty space on his bicep. He seemed to make a decision about something. After receiving the kiss to the cheek, he went to return one but perhaps not the best at doing so.
Gwennol stifle a chuckle at the tickle of his beard and took a breath, clearing her throat. "I'll...just...make you something to eat you must be starving." She got up and brushed her long chestnut hair from her flushed face, concentrating on cutting a piece of the smoked boar haunch.
Pren shook his head slightly as he leaned back, a small smile at the corner of his lips. "I ate a whole deer last night. I do not think I can eat much more for a week."
Gwennol paused and nodded, "Alright, well...if you need something, ask me." She wrapped up what she cut and set it aside. She fumbled her fingers against her robes, standing rather indecisive on what to do. Gwennol looked around and spotted an empty water flask, "I need to get water." She rushed away, breathing hard and dropped to her knees at the water's edge.
Pren leaned back onto the furs, looking over himself with long sigh through his nose, wondering how long it will take for him to heal properly.
Gwennol filled the flask full of water to be boiled later for tea and sank back on her heels. She put her head in her hand, taking a few deep breaths.The sudden return of Pren had been hope for, as he had gone off once again with a man she did not trust. She had never met this man but he had something to do with Pren nearly being drown and stabbed, when she had found him washed up on the shore of Nen Harn. It was unclear how but the man had both friend and enemy to Pren. It was as she felt now, that she could be Pren's friend, even his wife and yet there as part of her that shouted in her head that she was his enemy. He had killed her people, the Turch Luth was no longer a tribe, dead, enslaved or scattered and Pren had drawn their blood. Though years had passed since she left her home to go to the wilds of Enedwaith and become a Derudh she still felt the kinship. The boar's mark she had on her shoulder still meant something.
While she was getting water, Pren looked about the camp, then pushed himself up rather awkwardly. He went to the fire and pushed away some of the burning embers to find the blackened wood, charred until it crumbled into black dust. He took a handful, still hot, grabbed a knife before going to sit on the furs again. He then put the knife against his skin of his injured shoulder and started to cut.
Gwennol splashed water on her face and breathed deeply looking up at the trees, staying as still as stone for a long moment. Finally she pushed herself back up and walked back, spotting him with the knife. She rushed forward, "What are you doing?"
Pren remained silent as he drew the knife along his skin, the lines starting to form a distinct form.
Watching him with a furrowed brow, she spoke up, reaching for the knife, "I can help, they taught us to make the marks in the skin, with fire and knife."
Refusing her help silently, he kept doing it by himself, determined to finish. As he came close to the end, she could make out what it was. A boar.
Gwennol gazed at it, her hands now in her lap. She said nothing, chewing her lower lip for a moment.
Pren rubbed the wood ash into the complete outline of the boar. Pushing it in with his hand before he picks up the knife again, cutting away at the skin inside of the outline as if skinning his arm there. He flays off a layer of skin from there before he places more ash into it, happy with his work he dropped the knife.
Gwennol furrowed her brow at him and fetched more of the wood ash. It was actually rather sanitary, the ash was clean and added to some distilled alcohol she found in Bree carried in a small clay flask it would sting but keep the infections at bay. It was similar to the slurry her mentor made when applying tattooed markings to visiting Derudh and warriors, though the old woman had a deft hand with a bone needle rather than the brutish knife work done by Pren.
Gwennol cleaned the blood off his arm, careful not to smudge the fresh cuts. "Your father's tribe...", she said quietly, studying the tusked figure.
Pren looked at her, "And yours."
Gwennol dropped her hands, "And mine..." She looked at him for a few moments, "I must...make peace with it. With all of it if I..." She swallowed hard and blinked, "If I am to be your wife. But it is a difficult thing to do." She looks away, gazing at the underbrush.
Pren said, "Make peace with what exactly?"
Gwennol sighed, picking at the dried blood on her fingernails, "That you may have killed my kin and that...that I thought I would spend my life alone on in a hut but I want more and I'm...I'm frightened, Pren." She bit her lip, grimacing, "It is hard for me to have these feelings for you and to know what a man and wife will do when I cannot feel much more than disgust at the thought of it."
Pren seemed to have his eyes ahead of him, staring into the woods. "There is no reason to be frightened about anything. I have killed your clan.. like your clan have mine. Both of my bloods have been spilt, from each of the clans I have visited. The Hunstman willed it.. the Derudh's told us.."
Gwennol stood up, her hands trembling, "I know what they said, maybe it was His will...but I can't help thinking about your axe buried in the skull of one of my brothers."
She rubbed her hand over her face, "I should not think of such things, it was the will of Rhi Helvarch I must accept it."
Pren looked up at her, "And you do not think about one of your brothers' axe in the skull of mine?"
Gwennol glanced down, suddenly looking her youthful years, "I did not...because you are alive." She sighed and sat down again, her head in her hands, "It doesn't matter they're gone. They were lost to me not when you raided them but when I was 13 and left to become a Derudh. They became my family but I missed my kin." She swallowed hard, her thoughts roaming back to the homesick nights.
Gwennol sighed deeply and gazed at him, "I want to be a good Derudh and a wife for you. I must leave all my past behind but it crawls after me."
"Do not always think of enemies of yourself.. but mutual enemies. Like the flax-hairs," he said, "They killed my father who was of your kin."
Gwennol sat closer to him, her knee touching his, "I am sorry for that. I know their crimes against our people." She took a deep breath, "I must be stronger, always. I am unhappy you had to see me this way."
The big warrior replied, "It is fine. I have seen many like it. Returning from raids, seeing the faces of families who lost their husbands and fathers to the flax-hairs."
Gwennol huffed a sad laugh, "And I am supposed to tell them why and console them. That the will of Rhi Helvarch must be done and yet sometimes it is difficult to know why He wishes for something to be done." She looked at Pren, her eyes fixed on his, "I want to break away from my old hurts that keep opening, like a wound that won't heal."
Pren met her gaze, "Then think of it like this. Your family and kin, are now in the Hall of the Hunstman. They hunt with Him. Hunting the best hunt there is.. Flax-hairs. They are the spirits that guide you and me alike, so they are not away from you. They are with you."
Gwennol smiled a bit at that, her eyes still full of sorrow, "When did you become wise?"
Pren said, "As soon as I returned to you."
She leaned over and kissed his arm, next to the freshly cut boar symbol, "You are made to be Brenin." She stood up and nodded to him, "I think I will reflect on this and take a walk." She picked up her staff and Cysgod swooped down to perch on the end. "You will be fine here?"
"I will be fine," Pren chuckled a little bit before he nodded to her, laying back on the furs.
