FORLAW VILLAGE / REFUGEE CAMP -- EVENING
Hondscioh, with a few drinks in him emerged from the smoky inn, sucking the fresher air, traded a look with Régnwald who seemed lost... and a little drunk.
''I brought ye mead... It appears you won't step in that inn, it smells horse-shit -- like Stelimund, that old man.''
Across the weak fire, Régnwald looked over at Hondscioh, smiled, but 'twas wearied and bittersweet.
''Well, there'll be many more nights to drink.'' said the red-bearded Eorling, sitting with sigh of another bloodless day. ''So... is this more or less as you thought? What will we do?''
The war-band leader's eyes wandered soundlessly before they held the curious Eorling's gaze ''No news from Gárwig. We're rooted here ...until they mean to release us -- or hang me.''
Darkness grew under warrior's fiery brows, then turning into a grim one. After a long beat, a realization came to Hondscioh ''Well, they should ask kindly first, eh.'' head cocked to the side with a quick nod, the words were spoken ironically, his free hand finding the hilt of war-blade that was kept in his belt for long.
Régnwald brooded over his companion's words ''More like, luck isn't at our side this time, Hondscioh. We can't know still.''
''Luck can be a whore too.'' replied Hondscioh. ''So, aren't you missing the meal?''
''Guess I'm missing our friends more.'' the young earl uttered his words.
A long beat, nodded the red bearded shield-man ''Yeah...''
Régnwald remained sombre, Béma in his thoughts for the barest of moments and he joined his friend in a gulp.
''I don't think you're the worst earl...'' added Hondscioh with a smile.
''Not at all -- '' Régnwald said.
''...when I think of the others. Haleth Longsword had a long sword but no brain. Half his éored rode to Anfald's. Six-tooth Offa of Woodhurst can't keep his warriors from fighting each other.'' Hondscioh smiled a beat ''Then... yeah... then there's Sig!''
''Sig?''
''Sig Skullsplitter of Fenmarch. Ye don't know Sig? Ye haven't heard of Sig?''
Régnwald struggled to answer ''Something... I don't know... with sheep?''
''Good Béma, man! Sheep are just the tip of it. They say he tried a dead bear once... He's tried horses... He's tried goats.''
Edging hysterically, Hondscioh continued ''They say he tried it once with a rabbit... and got stuck --
Régnwald : Stuck!?
''Yeah! So when he comes to fight. It's on six legs... and you want to see fast?!''
They traded smiles a beat, Hondscioh roared with laughter, leaned close to Régnwald lest the folk see him like that. Régnwald laughed as well. Tears started streaming from Hondscioh's eyes. Between laughs, he kept speaking:
''I'll tell you... I'll tell you... if our ways ever cross again, I'll send out a batch of squirrels! That'll slow him...!''
More hysterical laughter and tears... Régnwald's always been quite stern in character, quick to laugh and smile only with those of his inner circle, and lately even that seems rare. And gradually the mask of humour fell... Hondscioh was reduced to sad, tearful glances. He gasped in the cold night, fear climbing back into his eyes which held the young earl's gaze.
Régnwald, without words, patted his shoulder. ''Worry not, friend.'' He comforted him as he oft kept his word-hoard locked within his mind. ''And aye, like ye said... Many more nights to drink.''
They traded a weak smile as the wind blew harshly, winter air biting the two warriors' limbs...
