The solid doors were opened to Régnwald and his company. He strode ahead, his footsteps long and confident. The hall seemed dark compared to the waning light outside, but the hall was warm, heated by a great fire in the center of the hall. The eyes adjusted to the dim light of fire. Guards and townsfolk sat or stood, watching their approach. Heavy were the boots of the men, soaked and muddied through the leather. The chill lifted from them all as they passed a long, central hearth and it was gone entirely before they reached the raised platform, a dais rising on three steps. On the heirloom chair, sat a man in hauberks of red, embroidery and draped with a coat of fine furs. Tall and large he was, a kingly man with golden hair that resembled a mane. Régnwald took the final steps forward and removed his helmet, bowing, he said,
''Westhu hal, Thane Fastred!''
The eyes of the hardened warrior glistened, ''Westhu, Régnwald,'' greeted Fastred.
Régnwald stood tall, holding his helmet at his side. ''My Lord, surely you wish to know the reason for my prolonged absence,'' he assumed.
''Surely I do. Your guess is rightly thought,'' Fastred spoke and concern touched his voice, ''Anfald came not two hours ago. He tends to his men now. They attacked a band of orcs that traveled west across Norcrofts''
''Orcs?'' Régnwald growled, ''Were any of ours hurt?''
''No.'' Fastred shook his head, ''Anfald's thought was they meant to attack you, to wait for you on the return road to Harwick, and kill you in the night. Their leader uttered words of revenge on your name before Anfald removed his tongue and head.''
Régnwald gave a nod, a memory passing into his words, ''If the orc had been one of stolen scales and decorated a necklace with teeth of Men, he escaped the night we were ambushed in Eastemnet.''
''Yes, the orc was the same as Anfald reported,'' Fastred confirmed. ''The caravan of Entwade was attacked, you say?''
''Yes, my Lord.''
Thane's voice grew grim, ''...Our losses?''
''Seven of the villagers fell to orkish blades, a carriage lost to fire, and two horses burned without escape.''
''Alas!'' said the Thane, clenching his fist on the table. He gave a thought a few moments, and then said to Régnwald, ''Thank Béma your men were there, Régnwald, else the whole caravan may have been lost.''
''We had been tracking them for a day. The caravan was the only destination to match their course.''
''And yet the traders and the caravan still stands, Régnwald.''
Régnwald bowed his head in appreciation for his gratitude and soon he retired swiftly, pacing for the high-arched door to go his house where his well-beloved sister that would be waiting for him.
''Good night, Régnwald. Watch out for trolls. I'm sure your imagination must be teeming with them.''
His pace slowed and came to an halt before he reached the gate. Régnwald's eyes blazed and he advanced until they were face to face.
The man stood silent, wondering what way things would turn.
''Sigmund, son of Ecglaf. I know who you are. They say you hid inside the barn when your household was burned down.''
Sigmund pulled a knife, Régnwald held his arm,
''I have another true thing to tell you, Sigmund.''
Sigmund dropped the weapon, Régnwald held the other hand,
''If your strength and heart was as strong and fierce as your words, our enemies would not feel free to murder and gorge on your people without fear of retaliation. But he will find Eorlings waiting for him, not frightened sheep
he threw Sigmund to the ground and pointed at him,
...like you.''
''Thane does not permit brawls in his hall!'' the guard near the gate shouted, warning them.
''And men are freer outside!'' Régnwald confirmed, gazing at the man with stern, grim visage.
Though there was a flutter of white, emerging behind the pillars.
''Régnwald! You've returned!'' A maiden of fair skin and a head of golden waves embraced him.
''Hello, sister,'' Régnwald greeted, returning the embrace with his free, gauntled arm.
''You greet me so warmly, Sæwaru! I see your wrath has waned.''
''I am wrathful still! I beg you, let me finish my work!''
''And let you ruin a perfectly decent shirt with your hatched needlework? Nay, I say not!'' he jested, with all the seriousness a brother could muster.
She smiled and held by his hand, ''Ah, come...''
The sources from which I took inspiration — Beowulf (2007 film), The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
