The screams and shouts of a room overfilled with children kept her awake and grumpy. Since arriving to Minas Tirith, Céolswith had not found sleep. Her pockets of coin were also low, since being a foreigner did not help with finding work. All in all, her first few days in Stoningland were tiresome and full of rejection. Her patience was waning due to the noise and she was tired of eating old bread. She closed her eyes, curled up in a corner. Thoughts of the months prior came back to her, forcing her to reconsider her decision to run from home again.
Days after meeting Régnwald in the Wold on last time, she had finally reached home. The guards looked at her in shock, once knowing her as a proud shield-maiden and mead server. Now, she was travel-worn, injured and hungry. Questions of concern filled her ears as she had to push herself through a crowd of curious onlookers, friends and other faces she could not make out yet. But there was only one face she wanted to see.
Her father was sitting outside of him home, whittling something like always. His short, dark hair was greyer than before and she noticed that his beard had been grown out longer than usual. He did not look at her until she was standing before him. Even then, he left her in complete silence until she dropped her helm on the dirt below.
With a quick glance up, his tone wasn’t harsh but enough to command respect, “Sit. There’s a spare knife if you are up for whittling.”
She opened her mouth to inform him of her hand but instead, just sat down. Her father knew what had happened in Stangard and like with her brothers, was not going to rush any conversations that did not need to be rushed. They sat silently for a few hours, taking in the sounds of Harwick. Her father was the first one to speak again, “I’ll get something on the stove. Why don’t you take the chance to clean up?”
Céolswith nodded.
The next day came with all of the problems that would follow one after leaving their people. Aldor Harding was harsh in questioning her. It reminded her of when she left for Bree the second time. At the end of it all, she was tired. Another hour was spent with a healer as they rewrapped her hand. It would not be the end of others questioning her leaving Stangard behind after all that happened.
Another shout echoed in the stone walls. Céolswith cringed as it ringed in her ears. The children were relentless about their needs and some seemed to be ignored. The man, named Lance, which she met earlier, did not lie about the crowd here in the Guesthouse of the First Tier. She just hoped to find work and fit in more than she did now.
