17 years in the past.
The young boy ran through the door, his red hair spread across his face and his chest was lowering and rising swiftly. The six year old had in his hand a bundle of twigs and flowers, with feathers and straw nestled in them.
“Ma! Ma! Look!”, young Langhund grinned up to his mother who frowned deeply at just the sight of the boy with mud streaked across his face.
“What?”, she hissed bitterly, stirring the mix for dinner as setting it on the side. Her husband, the wildman, was out and she needed to not cover her true emotions of distaste towards the boy, the boy that she was tormented for having, the boy that brought her families reputation down. Not only did the child bring her reputation down, as did her new husband. Gwythyr the Wild, a dunlending. Though of course, she couldn’t show her hate to her husband’s kind, despite falling for him in the first place. Gwythyr also brought in coin with his hunting skills, and food, and allowed her three daughters to live. And so, her anger had to be taken out elsewhere.
“I’ve, I’ve been playing in the woods, ma! And and and I found these!”, the small boys hands rose up to shower her the bird nest like bundle, though all he got was a raised brow in return.
“What exactly /is/ it?”, she asked.
“Nyth… with.. Bluen!”, Langhund smiled up proudly at his mother, Sorwyn, with the knowledge of his father's tongue, happy he could just about make a sentence, even if mixed with rohirric.
THWACK!
Sorwyn brought the back of her hand viciously across the six year old’s cheek, making him drop his bundle of twigs and watching it crash on the floor as she hissed out, grabbing him by the wrist and forcing him to look upwards as she squinted greatly at him.
“You shall /NOT/ speak that filthy language in my household!”
Tears sprung to the young boy’s dark eyes as he looked up to his mother, confused by the hatred he was always given, unlike his step-sisters. “But.. but..”
SMACK!
The palm of Sorwyn’s hand struck his other cheek, as she shouted down at him.
“No buts! You shall not speak that language, or else you will be thrown out!”, she released his grip and got back to her cooking, muttering and sighing under her breath.
Scooping down with tears down his cheeks, Langhund reclaimed his broken nest and ran back outside as fast as his legs could carry him, stumbling down by the water's edge of the stream that ran through Grimslade where he watched his tears join the water, looking at the handful of twigs and leaves and feathers he spent so much time on.
Suddenly, a shoe pressed into his back gently and a soft timid voice spoke out.
“I-I liked your nest, Hund.. even if mother doesn’t..”, softly spoke Laywyn, the step-sister of Langhund. She smiled briefly at him, before running away as swiftly as she could back into the home before mother noticed her missing.
The young boy smiled, and looked down into the water at the red haired boy staring back, and he opened his mouth to bare his teeth.
“I am wild… even if mother won’t let me be..”. He bit his teeth sharply together, before laughing and playing with the water for the rest of the day.
