Men of the Mark

Ealfin paced around at the stable of Aldburg, his legs restless and his mind the same, for the arrival of our mutual friend Cwendur and his horse Fale had put us both on edge. We had a mission to complete, on direct order by lord Tiubar. A large shipment of undisclosed worth and size was to be transported from Floodwend to Grimslade. A tall order and a lengthy journey at the best of times, while not escorting heavy work-horses towing slow carts behind them.

Ride, ride, ride, Men of the Mark!

Hear the horns, heralding their time,

“I saw Duncadda earlier,” said Ethel, as she lunged forward with the loaned practice sword. “He is making some large holes in the Hall's roof!”

I twirled my ashen staff defensively in front of me, focusing on my footing and knowing well there was more fight in my legs than in the weapon. 

It was early evening. I had prepared myself to go down to the Hall and maybe have something from the kitchens. Not that I was hungry really, but I wanted to see if anyone was around. I wanted to know if there was word of the hunt Ethel had ridden on. 

Music

I had been dreaming. It was one of those dreams where I felt warm and safe, where I had been smiling rather a lot. It was a dream about a blanket and laying as close to the edge as I could, looking outwards. It ended with me being wrapped up in the middle and unable..unwilling to escape because I was laughing so much.