Régnwald grunted, his armour matching it with a groan. Leaning forward, but not so much to leave the warmth of the spot he had settled on, he stirred the pot that hung from it's tripod above a weak fire. The flame, nestled in it's firepit, sent smoke in tendrils, snaking about the cauldron.
Werendor stepped outside, soon surprised by a couple of children who seemed to have followed him. He turns to them to scold them, with the few words he can muster in Rohirric and urge them to get back inside.
Régnwald has been sitting with a handful of warriors from Stangard, Hondscioh, streching back, wrinkled an oft broken nose at the bowl of stew, flashing a glance at Régnwald ''Ah, I take what comes,'' the captain mused to himself, shaking his head as he did so. Finishing the meal after a short length, he nodded his own farewell, rising tall.
Werendor watched the children slip back inside, wearing a stoic smile. As the man approached, he bowed his head respectfully, in all the formality known in his own land.
Régnwald paused as he spotted a dark haired man, the dogged fatigue that clung to his eyes, now served to harden features. He would spare the man an appraising look ''Westhu hal.'' a voice laced with the fatigue of recent days; though no less firm. ''Have we met?''
Werendor narrowed his eyes, to make sure he gets the words spoken right. He then replied speaking in a foreign accent. "Westhu Aethelwigend Hal, no, we have not, I have been meaning to make my presense known but but [W] it seems the events got the best of me.
Werendor added ''Werendor, son of Radbyre my lord''
Régnwald eyed him a beat, hazel green eyes gleaming faintly and he nodded silently, his only other movement being to once again rub his unruly, straw coloured beard. As the moment passed, he stole another glance ''Taking from the accent you bear, you're not an Eorling; you're a ways from home.'' he uttered a brief sigh as his words sunk in.
Werendor offered a wry smile in return. He seems dressed in the common clothes of an Eorling, the sword he carries could be recognized as one of the soldier's of Stangard. His whole figure seems worn still there's resolve and dignity in his gaze.
Régnwald let a faint, almost ghost of a smile cross his lips, turning once again to look the man in the eye ''Stoningland, eh?'' he assumed, continuing as he straightened ''...One war was not enough for you?'' his eyes glinted with a hint of quip or jest, his wolfish smile deepened.
Werendor said, ''You can judge by your own, if I am an Eorling or not. My father hails from these lands and by his will I've returned at this ... this [W] unfortunate hour.''
Werendor turns his gaze to the lady briefly, his eyes stay on her for a moment, still getting used to the sight of women in arms. He bows his head at her formaly.
Régnwald narrowed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath, once again the bearded chin jutted out, split by a faint, rueful smile. ''Unfortunate hour.'' he corrected him with his heavy Horse-lord accent. Casting a brief glance about, he returned his attention to Werendor ''Aye, Eorling or not but our people are friends once upon firm ground, anyhow...
Maybe the sea does sicken our folk with it's strange turns and motions, but upon the grass sea?''
He got a wolfish smile, ''Unmatched.''
Werendor smiled, though he does not seem to share much of the Aethelwigend's sentiments about his land. Still he nodded politely to agree.
Régnwald 's gaze followed the man's nod until he spotted the shieldmaiden, eyeing her briefly and bowing his head faintly in a friendly salute.
Cynebur left the cave, then shared a word with guard on the entrance. Her armor was not so long ago unscarthed but now many deeps and cuts show she was on the first line of defences without quarter that the fact she was a woman. "Westhu hal." she greeted the strangely dark haired man then bowed her head to Régnwald. "I have ordered guards to rest, others will replace them."
Régnwald nodded silently, the familiar tick that hinted at his nerves came to light, and the man gripped Nægling's hilt lightly before speaking up ''And tell the others that we'll depart tomorrow. We've tarried long enough in this wretched corner.'' he casted for more to say, though he remained the same silence, looking away with his habitual solemnity.
Cynebur steely gleam settled in her eyes, unrelenting strength that emerged from ill fate of what happened. Woman refirmed her hold of her shield before speaking with soft friendly tone. "It will be done. We are aiming toward High Knolls?"
Werendor stood in silence as thoughtful eyes studied the faces of the two people before him, trying to discern the meaning of their words.
Régnwald nodded once with a firm air about him ''Yeah,'' he paused for a moment, continuing as he eyed her ''High-knolls will be the path, as we discussed.''
Cynebur firmed her nod and smiled as that way was her home.
Regnwald breathed, sparing a brief look at Werendor and the man's pride seemed to swell. He returned to small camp-fire behind him, bringing the pot from the lick of the flame, son of Régn carefully set it down to cool. ''Cold of the mountains, can't be worse than hairy-arsed swarthy-men, eh?'' he threw a dubious smile at the maiden over his shoulder.
Cynebur joined the man at the fire. "It is still many days, weeks and moons till the winter frost, my friend. At my home, winter is long, but not as long as many fray."
Werendor winced slightly, not sure he got all the words of the captain right. Still he thought it uncouth to interrupt their talk. He quietly retired by the tree to find some rest there..
Régnwald stood tall, watching the captive flames dance with narrowed eyes, he heaved a sigh, musing over that with a dark, brooding look. The fire forgotten, the Horselord fixed his gaze upon Werendor, his expression changing with the changing the subject ''Am I right to think that the sound of waves and the smell of sea wouldn't appeal to you as much as the feel of grass, Werendor?'' He straightened as he watched him, judging from the expression's he wore, this man had had more care and curiousity for this man than the others might say.
Werendor turned to the captain, unsure of his sentiments about the matter. He responded modestly. "I have been raised at the mountains of Stoningland, I do like the green, but I fear, I am more used to being [w] indoors than outdoors.''
Cynebur listened the two, then offered a smile to the man of Stoningland "I am Cynebur, shieldmaiden."
Werendor smiled wearily, but truthfuly, as he had to get up and give the lady a proper introduction.
Régnwald looked towards him before checking Cynebur with the edge of his gaze "I thought that way at first,'' he paused ''Indoors, can't see much life in that. My first tastes of it sickened me, but..." From nowhere it seemed, a wineskin was in his hand, raised to his lips. Drinking deeply, he continued. "On those fields, one cannot lock himself indoors.''
Werendor bowed his head "Werendor son of Radbyre my lady, an honor to meet you
Régnwald , settling the skin down, hacked a faint smile, saying naught this time.
Werendor smiled, "My father would much agree with you my lord"
Régnwald broke from his apparent daze, reaching for the cauldron, and a stack of nearby wooden bowls ''From which proud mark of this land your father was?'' And as he served the thin stew of root crop, barley and venison, he gazed between them with a jesting smile ''Likely you won't see me serving in the future days.'' he offered them both a bowl of meal.
Cynebur smiled "Lies, you always shared meal with me in old days." and took bowl while crouching down, slurping it slowly.
Werendor lowered his head, to have a moment of thought then he replied. "He would not speak much of it, but I deem it should have been around here as his wish were to be burried near Cuthstan"
Régnwald straightened some as he struggled up a wry grin, ''You, Cynebur, are one of the few here who had the chance of seeing my old days,'' he paused ''and I, you. Would be best for us to not tell our memories that much, eh...'' head cocked to the side as he listened Werendor.
Werendor stepped forward to take the bowl offered with a nod of thanks.
Cynebur smirked a litte as slurping loudly, her gaze turning from Régnwald's face to the dark-haired one.
''And, was his wish fulfilled?'' asked the captain.
Werendor raised his eyes to give a sudden glance at Régnwald. A moment of silence followed. He then said modestly. "Maybe it is not a good time to speak of my predicament, and burden you with it, my lord. But maybe if all ends well I could ask for your aid."
Régnwald firmed his jaw, he held the man's gaze, as though his words giving him a sensuality; but it faded before long. He stared out across the river, listening the sounds of the coming dark. ''As you wish then.''
Werendor spoke in a lighter tone, then, after briefly bringing the bowl to his lips.
''I still owe you my gratitude for your... [w] hospitality. It is your riders who saved my life and brought me to Stangard.''
Cynebur didnt mind a moment to intrude the converstaion but innocent listening words around ther fire. Her bowl was empty already, and she was sitting down while taking off her reinforced boots. One could see she didnt was for days and smell it the same. She took off most of armor and sat in padded hauberk that was under chainmail. She breathed deeply as it was a day since she rested.
Régnwald narrowed his eyes as if trying to catch the words of common tongue between the sentence, and he swayed his head to the side, eyeing him with a thin, bitter smile ''Well, we could offer better comfort...'' he blinked his eyes ''Y'ever seen our old... mead-hall?'' he asked in a broken Westron.
Werendor studied his features for a moment then he has spoken softly. ''First lady Hildwine brought me to the House of... Fo-Foldewyn?.. The Quartermaster gave me clothes and yes... I have been to the Mead-Hall too, a warm welcome.''
Cynebur got up slowly and walked barefoot to the shallows of the river, washing herself among thick foliage and trees. Unexpectedly she slips over the slippery stone and falls in with loud splash! *Splash!* And she pulled herself out from shallow stream now sitting in water completly wet. Cursing she realizes war has be lost with water and then dips her head again to wash her hair well.
Régnwald listened the man, and watched Cynebur stride forward to river.
Werendor was caught for a moment watching the woman walk to the river. The splash startled him and he turned his gaze away.
Teeth bared back in a silent snarling grimace, the captain carefully lay an arm on his sword's hilt, a sigh finally escaped from the confines of his mouth. "So much moves quickly in this war, so many plays made all at once. All we can do is strive for victory on our small patch of bloody earth, and hope Wyrd wills our Kin in other fields have the same luck."
''And allies too.''
Werendor nodded slowly. "Gondor has lost some of its great cities too. Maybe one day we will get them back. But ... We're not in Stoningland now and I am in your debt. What can I do to be of .. service?
Régnwald turned to him as he locked his gaze ''What was your trade back in there?'' he wanted to know, briefly. ''...in Stoningland.''
Cynebur took a long soak before she walked out squeezing out the fat padding to move some water. So heavy under the burden of water filled padded armor she marched to the cave without courage to glance to others at fire. Fairly looking as drowned rat.
Régnwald swung his gaze from Werendor to shieldmaiden, hardly masking his thoughts, a faint grin cracked in his mouth.
Werendor says, 'My father has taught me the sword when I was young, but I have not wielded a blade since. I strived to earn knowledge, to become an...[w] Engineer... [r] But my last years I've spend as a ... tutor of a noble man's son.''
Hondscioh watched Cynebur walk, whispering some wicked words to his comrades and they all burst into laughter.
Werendor lowered his head at the woman passed by, to save her the disgrace propably.
Cynebur returned soon enough and without pardon she glared at Hondscioh while passing him by. She was changed in old riders hauberk, so washed out it bore strange pale peach color. "My luck." she mutters and sits by the fire again to dry off wet clothes that were in her arm. spreading them around branches near fire.
Régnwald watched him a beat, apparently his words were feeding his enthusiasm; though not in wonder. Finally he broke that quiet ''En.. engineer?'' he repeated in common tongue, a faint, golden brow rose as he straightened some more. ''If a man needs a tutor, well he must grasp one bridle firm and ride. Words can only suffice for a length, but then? They're oft empty...'' ' 'One must live and see, what's beyond.''
Cynebur ran trough her hair with fingers, and since wet not so rarely they would stuck in so she had to pull it, while frowning from the pain. "True, over yonder, what be will be."
'That is Wyrd to decide what we are to see.'' 'Well that is at least what my nana would know to say, and elders are to be trusted, as they are wise in their time.''
Werendor looked between the two, patiently [w] An engineer... [r] A man who... designs... machines.." he explained just in case. Then he looked at the scenery around him.
Cynebur raised curious glance "A.. machine? What is that?"
Régnwald traded a dubious half-smile with Cynebur, returning his attention to Werendor.
Werendor for a second looked at Cynebur with surprise. He then explained in a softer tone. "It is an item of complicated craftmanship, used to serve a certain purpose. For example...to get water out of a well."
Cynebur couldnt even gather the tought to understand the word while big lump of hair was uncombable it seems. She pulled and pulled, untils he pulled a small ammount of hair with it. It was someones tooth, still bloody, nettled in her hair. She sighs and throws it toward fire.
Régnwald moved to the cave entrance as they spoke, hand rested on the rock, but the man took pause, ''Hour grows late, I'll rest a while.'' he spoke briefly and added, looking to Werendor ''Ēadig, þec tō mētenne.''
''An honor.'' Werendor bowed his head.
