Meadowyn

There they stood, the three of them. Meadwine, Meadowyn and Ægáldred were lined up before their father in the main hall of his house.

Tale starts from: Life as a Refugee - Meadowyn's Account I: A Wound​

It was dusk and Meadowyn could not find her red cloak that she enjoyed to gaze upon. Though it were an insignificant decoration she thought it to be something special, as it was a bit of her home and she grew to treasure such things more as the days passed. She grew frustrated and sought throughout the house to no avail, she doubted that she could have lost it, for she seldom wore it. Then a thought came to her mind. 

I would that I could walk rightly again. I am a limp, a cripple. A shield-maiden of little use who has been cast into fate against her will. We are come to a town named Bree and found ourselves with no home to life, instead we live in a camp, lost. My sisters are mourning and Aegaldred's complaining has done us no good since we have arrived. The town of Bree lingers within our gaze and we haven't a clue how we shall live in their. Aegaldred does not know what to do, but how am I in the right when I do not know either.

Continuation of: Tales of Their Past - Fænge-Nædl

There was a chill in the night air as all the folk were returning to their homes. Many drunk from their drinking, and everyone else weary from their reveling. The dim lamps shone yellow upon the dirt paths and only two figures remained out that night. They stood side by side upon the path before the Mead hall, silent, still as statues.