rohan

It was late in the afternoon when I tidied my hair, dusted off my dress, and walked over to pay Northgyth a visit. Ymma opened the door to me, and ushered me in as a welcome visitor. 

“Have you come for something, Yllfa, or do you want…”

Although I was happy travelling on occasions, I was not a wanderer at heart. I had dwelt in two homes only. Until I was fourteen my family had all lived in the farmhouse, northwest of Edoras. Then I had lived just outside Harwick with my parents, and my father alone, after my mother had died.  There was the year at Forlaw, which strangely enough had always seemed home to me, far more than Harwick ever had. There were the months in Stangard, which I wish had never occurred.

She was weary. The sun was not even high in the sky, and she was weary. Sweeping a strand of thick flaming auburn hair from her eyes, the smith worked on the bellows, building the fire in her forge a little hotter. Why was it that she had such trouble from that foolish and vain guard. He didn’t want a woman working on his armour? Fine! Let him find someone else to do the repairs.

“We must start training,” he said, as he sipped at the mug of elderflower and honey drink I had made. There will come a time when we have to go after that man. We must both be ready.”