Birds sang their morning melodies as the darkness of the sky had started to lift as the stars faded away for yet another night. The meeting of the moon and the sun caused beautiful colours, orange and pink streaks lighting up the darkened sky slowly stretching across like paint moving over a canvas.
"Hrm, blood has fallen on this land and so the skies show it.", a deep northern voice floated on the wind towards another tall northman who had blonde-braided hair.
Bjartur pushed himself up from the steps of the cottage where he was spending the night with a woman, who was still sleeping soundly after what had happened last night to her. The blonde northman took his axe in hand, and his voice rumbled out like a wolves growl into the shadows of the tree-line.
"Who is it? And speak quick, mann! If you hold words any longer, you will be holding your tongue in your hand next!".
"You do not recongise this voice, brodr?".
Out from the shadows stepped a man, the same height as Bjartur though his skin was darker from years of travelling far. His hair was dark brown, with streaks of blonde running throughout. A handsome man, with only a single scar to his face. His voice flowed like molten gold, smooth and clear though loud or quiet when need be. Around his neck were a few leather cords, with trinkets hanging from each though hidden in furs wrapped around his shoulders.
"Nihtegala! Is it really you?!", Bjartur exclaimed loudly as he strode forward with a grin upon his golden beard as his large hand slapped down upon his younger brothers, by a few years, shoulder.
"Joah,", said he, "I have been tracking you from Trestlebridge and you did not even notice! It must be the amount of hair in your ears, you frow!"
A friendly punch to the shoulder was sent, and Nihtegala was sent flying for it though both laughed and they got to their feet. They sat down together on the doorstep, speaking quietly as to not wake the woman sleeping inside. Questions were asked and answered, about what had happened to bring Bjartur to where he is.
"Brodr.. why did you follow me? And how?", spoke out Bjartur with a furrowed brow in thought as chewing on a piece of dried meat.
"To see some family again! Despite how welcoming the frows and mann of the Mearc and below were, they were not my own blood, joah?", he raised a brow towards his older brother as he started to twirl the pendant of a horse around his neck.
"How? Last I heard, you were down in the Mearc rolling around with the frows in the hay like two horses!", he boomed out a laugh though he cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure he did not awake the woman.
"Where did you hear that from? Your own mind?", Nihtegala huffed out a laugh as he shook his head. A smile grew on his lips, and he glanced up to the sky for a moment to look at the early morning colouring. "Nay, brodr, I do not care for any other frow other than my dearest Raven -- from the Bree-lands, joah?"
A content sigh escaped from his lips, despite the muttering from Bjartur.
The minutes melted by, and now it was certainly morning, and Rhayvan would be awake. The first signs of life stirred from the woman inside the house and Bjartur turned to Nihtegala.
"It is time for you to go, brodr, she will panic if she's another.. I gave her enough of a fright last night," he chuckled, "Until our next meeting, in which the rest of our brodrs and sisters will be there I hope."
"Joah, brodr, and I will bring Rhayvan and you will bring... her, if she is to last." He chuckled before rising, slapping his brothers shoulder before once again, Nihtegala the Bard left his family, but to go to his newest addition -- his love.
