Helm pulls up beside another rider, “Hullo there, cousin!” An older, blonde man looked up and grinned, “Westu hal!” Helm hesitated, nodding to another dark haired man on the other side of Egfor, “Good to see you too, Wulf.” Wulf gave a gruff nod, barely acknowledging Helm. Egfor looked over at his cousin, striking up a friendly conversation as they rode.
Helm looked up at the looming fortress of the Hornburg, his jaw gaping slightly, “That is certainly… big.” Egfor snickered immaturely beside him. Helm looked over sharply and whacked him playfully with the butt of his spear, “Oh grow up!” He started to laugh, despite the heaviness and dread in the air. Egfor grinned, “I’ll race you to the gates. Whoever loses, buys the first round tonight.” Helm grinned widely at that, “Oh, you are on.” He whooped and spurred his destrier on forward, thundering past Egfor. His laugh got carried away with the wind as he heard Egfor exclaim something behind him, followed by more thundering hooves. For just a moment, Helm forgot entirely that they were riding to war. Time stood still for man and horse as they flew across the barren field, racing towards the looming fortress, the finest in all of Rohan. Helm pulled on the reins, slowing to a trot, winding in a few circles to cool his horse off as Egfor approached. Helm looks over, “Guess you are buying!” Egfor laughs whimsically and nods, “I am, I am!” They ride into the fortress, looking around in awe. They dismounted their horses and handed them to someone working at the stable. The man laughs, “Must be from the farm lands, judging by how your jaws are hanging.”
Egfor clears his throat, “Snowbourn, aye we are.” Helm snorts, laughing softly, grabbing his shield and spear, “Just some ol’ farm boys.” He winks at the stable man and nudges Egfor, “Come! Let us put our gear away and find a spot of ale!”
Egfor sat across from Helm and slid the man a tankard of ale, “As promised.” Helm smiles graciously and accepts the tankard. He hesitated a moment and looked around, “Where’s that man of yours.” A frown etched itself into Egfor’s face. The older man turns and scans the overcrowded tavern, nodding, “Over there. See the man getting too friendly with a couple of young soldiers? That’s him.” Helmwod pauses mid sip, setting his tankard down, wiping the froth from his mustache, “And you are alright with that? You’re not gunna stop him?”
Egfor sighs and shakes his head, swigging his ale, grunting softly, “No. Bad things happen to me if I interfere. He can do what he wants, and I am to obey his whims, not even think of other men, unless he wants me too…” Helmwod purses his lips in a thin line, “You know that’s not healthy and normal, right? No matter what our fathers beat into us…”
Egfor avoids looking up, shrugging a shoulder, “Well, it’s either that or be alone.”
Helm sighs, “I can’t talk much, but you deserve better.”
Egfor ignored that, calling for more ale to their table. Helm watched his cousin’s eyes linger on a few different men before focusing back on his ale. Several drawn out moments presented themselves before Helm broke the silence, “You think we will survive? The war I mean…”
Egfor looked up, a furrow in his brow, “I genuinely don’t know, actually. Lately I have been having peculiar, odd dreams in a strange foreign land. Maybe these dreams are some sort of glimpse into the future and we will survive.” Helm nods slowly and sips his ale, grimly admitting, “I kind of wish I don’t just to not face my father again, but I did promise my brothers and sisters I would come back.” The two men fell into various conversation topics as the night waned on.
