stangard

Pale eyes raised from the meagre meal that rested on captain's table, flashing they took in the red-clad form before him. The tankard was raised from trestle in saluted greeting. ''Westhu hāl.''

Ceolswith greeted in return, "Westhu hal, Æthelwigend. I heard you returned. I just wanted to see how you fare."

It was a heavy summer day, with clouds over the Eorlsmead brewing without any drop of rain. There was little people on streets of the village, only guards on towers and few patrols. Only rush happening was around the Foldewyn's halls, a Healers halls. Few healers were entering exiting the hall with buckets of water or armfuls of clothes, woods for fires or bags of herbs.

The night was calm as the training hall was locked up. A light, cheerful chatter went on, coming mostly from a young folawigend to the older woman next to him. The woman had a bit of a grin as the young man told stories about trying to train a wild horse with his father.

She never understood why her father did not talk about his work, outside of his glories in battle, but it was beginning to come to her. Keeping track of an entire town's stock, both for the Eored and for the Fyrds was beginning to wear Ceolswith down. First it was the matter of the stolen horseshoes.

It took some time, but she and Aodhred found out that there were men stealing the shoes. For what, she did not know. The small band was quiet recently since they last ambushed the two of them. She still needed to talk to Aodhred about it, but another matter was coming up.