Littew Temper Tait-rum [February 3010] (Runa)
Nov 4, 2017 21:54:46 GMT -5
Post by Ceolmund on Nov 4, 2017 21:54:46 GMT -5
The night was dark, the moon not yet risen over the horizon, and the hour was late. Ceolmund himself had taken the first watch along with a dozen other men. Now though many men were sprawled about in their bedrolls on as clean a ground as they could find for the time of year. Much was mud and snow piled upon the grasses. The rocky mounds were drier... yet more firm beneath, so it was a choice to make where a person might rest better on a hard ground, or a wet ground.
A few large fires were blazing in the camp, for many men stayed up late to talk and joke early in the journeys. They were still lively, and though they had ridden in haste the day away, they still had much strength and stamina. Though it was late, Ceolmund thought he might warm himself by the fire as well.
Hot bowls of stew were filled to the brim; each man had finished most of the food their families had sent during the day, and when one made a camp with fires, cooking became one of the prime topics of conversation. There were those men who were often sought out to tend to and season the meals, and it was always disappointing if one of them had stayed home for one reason or another.
Tait had been set to graze for the night, and relieved of her heavy saddle and packs that she might rest as soundly as the men, and Ceolmund had settled his saddle and belongings down on a rock outcropping not far off. Even when he was not on the night watch, he liked to be able to see his surroundings, and always tried to take himself a bit higher than the others, that he might look over the camp.
Gerlaf, a man who had been a friend for many years was moving to camp beside him. The man had stood for him just a month past as a witness, and his wife had played the even more crucial role in keeping Elin occupied the day away. He felt a great debt to Gerlaf, and though he had kept himself buyt the past month, he considered that if they made it home again, the man and his wife would have to come to his home for drinks and a good meal. His wife, Drifa, deserved the most honor, for she had taken the most unseemly task of occupying Elin for hours.
Ceolmund had discovered the flask of brennevin that his sister had tucked in with his food, and when he lifted the lid and smelled what it was, he immediately sighed and re-corked it, tucking it inside the healing kit that Hildred had offered him. Of course Sunni would send him with brennevin. Though she had known for years that hard drinks were not allowed among those on duty. Sunni did not rightly care anymore when or where she would drink; so the thought hardly crossed her that Ceolmund could be penalized for having it.
He would never let a drop of it touch his lips while he rode with the Eored, though, he could also not let himself dump it to the ground for waste. It could possibly come in useful this time of year if one of the men took cold-shock or became injured. The healing kit would be the place for it.
He started moving through one if his personal packs to find his bedroll and blanket. He had not noticed earlier how bursting it was, and now when he opened it, the thick woolen blanket popped out. Runa had of course been at his pack; he should have guessed. Bema's mercy, how had she even fit the thing in there? It was not a travel blanket by any means. Rather, a large blanket to fit upon the bed and keep his wife warm while he was away. He laughed to himself as he tried to push the thing back into the pack, yet he could not seem to figure out how she had folded it in the first place to make it work, so he lay it atop Tait's saddle.
“Wife packed for you, hm?” Gerlaf laughed to him, for he had parked himself beside the man, and was going through his own belongings. “Mine jams the bag so full I near always have to leave something behind. Look at this,” he held up a lumpy brown knit hat. “As if this would fit under my helm... though I suppose I could at least wear it now.” He pulled the hat on down over his ears and felt the relief of it sink over him. “She has never been the best knitter, but don't tell her I said so,”
“What's said in camp, stays in camp,” Ceolmund answered lightly, as it was always the way among the men. He reached into his own pack again, and pulling out a tan bundle.
“Knickers!” Gerlaf remarked, laughing.
“Two pair as well,” Ceolmund answered, balling them back up and shoving them in again to the bottom of the pack.
“Wants to you look fine and clean for those orc we meet,” he chortled.
He laughed to himself. “I wonder when she thinks we have time to change? Maybe I should save a pair for right when we return,” he mused... though decided it was unlikely he would even need a pair upon their return. Not with all the greetings and hellos to happen, at any rate.
Ceolmund reached into the pack once more and this time came upon a small folded parchment, and a metal chain. He held the chain near his eyes to see in the dim light, but he knew it by touch, the lovely little piece of jewelery he was holding. That pretty golden chain that he liked to see upon his wife. It shone brightly in both the sunlight and firelight, and he always favored it upon her when she wore it. It was one of her dress pieces, to go along with her Yule gown, though he had a fondness for it, and had gotten that piece upon her many times over the past month.
“A pretty thing,” Gerlaf stated as he watched Ceolmund with the piece. “May I?” he asked putting out his hand.
He hesitated for a moment, but then offered the chain to Gerlaf, and Gerlaf proceeded to hold it up, in front of Ceolmund's neck. “Befitting of a Captain? I suppose...”
Ceolmund burst out in laughter, taking back the chain. “I should say it looks much nicer upon my wife than it does on me. But it is a nice reminder of her,” the last words were quieter and contemplative as he thought of their earlier parting.
“I should say she left you with a nicer reminder in the street!” Gerlaf laughed.
“That she did,” Ceolmund answered. “But I cannot see what is this?” he held the parchment before his eyes. “A note perhaps? I cannot read it here in the dark.” He began to place things back into his pack, the necklace included, though made no attempt for the blanket, it would be fine here until they returned to sleep.
“Let's go to the fire, so I may read it.”
“You aren't reading it without me. No doubt something sappy, the men would love to hear it I'm sure.” Gerlaf chorused, clapping a hand on the younger man's shoulder. “And I could use some of that stew.”
The two men made their way across the field, around sleeping men upon their bedrolls, and those unpacking and settling down, to the nearest fire where a dozen men were gathered, talking and laughing. The men acknowledged Ceolmund as he walked up, and eyed curiously the piece he was holding in his hand as he took it near the fire.
“What have you got there, Captain? Orders?” one of the men asked.
“No, it's a note from his wife!” Gerlaf answered.
“Must be orders then!” one of the men cracked.
“Bound to be orders if it's from a wife!”
“His wife! And he's got a right pretty one too. I saw her today. Good on you, Captain.”
“She was all over you at the muster. I thought she was going to invite herself along for the ride.”
“My wife never writes to me, what'd she say?”
“Remind you to clean behind your ears I suspect.”
“No, remind you to leave your boots off when you get home!”
“Remind you of everything you didn't have time to do before you left.”
“Don't remind me of the nagging, I've only just got away from it!”
Ceolmund was chuckling lightly all the while as he moved closer to the fire with the note. He was quite curious as well. By this point, at least a dozen men were clamoring around him, and others were sitting and laughing as they ate their stew and basked in the warm glow of the flames. Ceolmund squatted down nearer the light of the flames, taking his time and enjoying the warmth rolling over him as he did so.
He unfurled the little bit of parchment, and before even reading the note, his eyes simply looked to the script. He had never seen Runa's handwriting before, and it warmed him to look upon it. It was not the finest calligraphy he had seen in his life, but it was in a way delicate; much finer than his own scrawl. Certainly written by a woman. Here she was showing him another little piece of her, that he had not yet met, a full days ride away from Edoras.
“So... what's it say?” Gerlaf looked to Ceolmund's face.
Ceolmund looked back to the note, this time reading it.
May this ride be swift and safe, so that we may have our own upon your return.
Yours Always
His laughter caught in his lips and he blew air from his mouth, quickly moving to fold the note before any of the men pressing near had a chance to read, but it was too late. Runa! What had gotten into her? He could barely stop himself from grinning at the very idea of it. She seemed to wish to remind him that there was a 'hello' coming upon his return, and though Ceolmund had thought before that he could not forget about it, now he was certain it would remain at the forefront of his mind.
“May this ride be swift and safe, so that we may have our own upon your return. Yours Always,” one of the men recited as he had stood behind him and read over his shoulder.
Another man snatched the note from his hand and recited it again. It was not long before everyone around the fire had heard it once or twice, and they were rollicking and laughing on the words written.
“There's no such thing as a leisure horseback ride in February,” one man laughed.
“I don't suppose she thinks you'll be gone til summer.”
“I don't think that's the kind of ride she is talking about.”
“No... she meant a riiiiide.”
“That's a dirty note if I've ever heard one!”
“How come my wife doesn't send me along with one of those?”
“Sounds like she likes to go on top... can't say I've ever minded...”
“You must've had a nice honeymoon.”
“No wonder you've been grinning so much.”
“What kind of wife did you find, Captain?”
Laughter was now beginning to course about the whole fire circle, and other men were wandering over to hear the humor as well, the note was read aloud a few more times, and some had committed it to memory; the parchment was no longer even needed to spread the message about.
“What's her name, Captain?”
“Runa,” Ceolmund answered, snatching the note back from the grubby hands that held it.
“The little one, always down at the training grounds? Always used to follow you around?”
“Yeah, she works at the Healing Hall... always seemed so severe to me.”
“Doesn't sound like she's too severe at home though, is she, Captain?”
Ceolmund shook his head. “No, she's very sweet.”
“You're a lovestruck fool, she near gutted me when I tore my stitches that one time.”
“She caught me moving about the hall without my crutch once and I thought she was going to hit me with it!”
“I tried to get off bed rest too early and she near threw me back down on the cot; strong one!”
“Talk about strong, I heard she put a man down on the street before.”
“Better be careful, Captain... she sounds dangerous!”
“From the sound of it doesn't seem like she has such sinister plan for the Captain!”
“Isn't Runa Beorhtric's sister?”
“Beor, who taught your sister to talk like that?” one man looked across the fire to where Beorthric himself had been sitting. Ceolmund had not noticed him there before.
“Why, he taught her the phrase himself, a few weeks past,” Ceolmund answered, looking straight over the flames to him, locking his eyes upon the man. “Came straight from his lips.” A good dozen men burst out in laughter hardly believing it.
“Coming from the man who won't even hug his own mother!”
“The Captain is going to need to give you thanks, Beorhtric! What ideas you've put in your sister's mind!”
Beothtric himself did nothing but grimace and growl, and stand up, grasping his belongings hastily, and moving off to another one of the fires the men had lit; however it was not much use for him there either, for the note had been well memorized by this time, and had spread among each waking man in the camp, becoming the talk of every campfire in the company.
“At any rate, sounds like you've made her happy.”
“You better make it home to that one.”
“I don't think he'd risk not making it home... a promise like that...”
“She'll be missing you in bed tonight.”
“Sounds like she'll be missing him in bed every night.”
Ceolmund could only laugh and shake his head. He was embarrassed at any rate, though he knew the men were having honest fun, and it did not discourage him. Speaking of wives and women, and home, was common talk among the Eored. It kept their spirits up, and it did help them remember what they were fighting for back at home; and also what they were missing. He clutched that little parchment in his hand as he went about his business warming, having a hot bowl of the stew, and trying to relax his muscles from the long hours on horseback the day had granted them.
–---
Back again away from the fire, the night was waging on and Ceolmund had finally warmed himself after his night watch. He carefully tucked the note back into his small pouch that it might stay safe and dry along the journey. He took out his mat and unrolled it, climbing atop and drawing the thick wool blanket over him, and the thinner one atop of that. He lay back and sighed, listening to the soft sound of horses munching dried grass, and the rustle of men moving about, and still voice and laughter coming from near the fire.
Ceolmund lay for some minutes, watching the moon as it lifted higher into the sky. He was tired, but could not seem to drift himself off to sleep. For the month he had spent sleeping upon the plains in his lifetime, it was not as if this were a new task for him, however the blanket seemed not enough now. He had so often fallen asleep the past month with the gentle pressure of Runa's head on his chest, or more often than naught, half her body sprawled over him. He had never wanted for warmth these past weeks, and had forgotten how to sleep alone.
He tried to pull the blanket over his face, to keep out the chill wind and warm himself. It smelled like home. A heavy scent of woodsmoke, from where it had been setting near the hearth. He tried to catch a whiff of his wife among the blanket folds, but she had not used it, and it came up lacking.
He sighed, and rolled to his side; the rocky ground jutting into his hip and shoulder. Perhaps if he had something to put his arms about... he grasped the thinner of the blankets, and pulled it from his shoulders, balling it up in his arms, molding it almost gently and carefully, into just the right width. He wrapped his arms about it, burrowing his face in as he did so. It did little to help, for though he clutched it; the blanket did not clutch him in return. It was not warm within his arms, nor solid, nor did it exude soft breaths or a heartbeat. He sighed, trying for a time to burrow against the blanket, and make his mind forget what it was lacking.
Ceolmund groaned, pulling himself back to sitting, and reaching once more for his pack. He pulled out the golden necklace, and took it back under the covers with him, squeezing it within his hand until the metal had warmed to his touch. He held it out slightly, watching it glint in the moonlight, and he closed his eyes, remembering how Runa had looked when she had worn it, the way her milky white skin looked in the firelight, the gentle curve of her neck, and the way her hair fell into rivers of waves about her shoulders when he loosed it from it's braids. He clutched the golden chain in his hand, and pressed it to his lips, the feel bringing to memory a time this past month, when he had traced that very necklace in kisses along his wife's neck. She had been warm beneath the metal. He clasped it in his hand, holding it near his chest.
After a time of laying awake, he carefully moved to tuck the necklace back in a small pocket of his bag, he did not wish to risk losing it. He frowned, sitting up in the chill of the night air once more. Nothing was seeming to help him to sleep. He stayed up for awhile, resting his arms upon his knees, and his chin atop that, looking to the West where Edoras lay, and wondering if Runa had taken earlier to the watchtower and looked his way. He imagined her face. Her bright blue eyes, and the way her lips were often slightly down turned in the corners as she went about her work. Just a look at her would tell any person she was strong; though her features were delicate and lovel. The way her smiled turned when she looked upon him could make the man fall to pieces and forget all reason.
He hoped she was warm in bed now, long since asleep, and he tried to picture her as she would look upon the mattress by herself, bundled beneath the blankets and furs for warmth. Ceolmund felt an emptiness without her; and he wondered if she felt the same now, alone in the house, with just the fire to keep her company. Ceolmund was by all means not alone here on the plains; yet he felt alone. There were men all about, sleeping near their saddles. Gerlaf was snoring nearby, and many horses were enjoying short rests between their grazing. Yet it was still alone and empty
He pictured the way Runa had looked before dawn in the morning, when he had wakened her with his lips and his touch, and how she had burned like fire beneath him. He replayed the waking hour in his mind. The way she had moved, and the way she murmured to him and called out to him while he loved her. This morning had been different from the desperation the previous day, all motions slow and gentle, and without haste; for it seemed she had forgotten during that short time that he would be leaving her; they had simply enjoyed the closeness of the moment, as if it might last forever. Ceolmund sighed, looking again down to his pack.
He thought about the brennevin Sunni had tucked away for him. He knew a good swig of it would warm him, and help him to relax. Though it was against the orders he had always kept. Some men took to it anyway, and he had never reported a man for trying to keep warm and rest, as long as it had not come up in a bad way for him later. How was he supposed to lead the men, though, if he could not take rest in this chill? It must be at least halfway past the second watch, and then the last would be upon them, and not long after, it would be time to rise again before the sun moved into the sky.
The man reached back for his pack again, finding the healing kit amongst his belongings, his fingers moving through it it for the flask earlier placed there. He lifted it up to look upon it, contemplating his poor decision, and the chill wind blew a gust of something familiar to his face. His countenance changed, and he sat the flask down, instead reaching for the kit again, lifting it to his nose. The scent of herbs came to him, and he could almost cry for the tightening in his chest. It smelled of the Healing Hall, but it smelled of Runa. The way her hair smelled, her hands, her dress. She had near lived in the Hall before he had married her, and she still spent a great deal of time there now. The scent always lingered about her; even after she was freshly bathed.
He held the satchel closer to look into it, trying to use the stray moonlight to see inside, and he pulled out a small bundle of herbs, holding it up to his face almost desperately. Then, carefully, he plucked some of the leaves out from the bundle, tucking everything back as it had been, and putting the brennevin back in the satchel without having touched a drop of it. He moved back down upon his sleeping mat and under his wool, now clutching in his hand the leaves, pressing them against his face. Ceolmund rolled them between his fingers and crushed them, releasing the aroma upon his skin, and he worked the oils of them into the space on his bedroll where he was to lay his head.
The fragrance filled him, and he began to feel better. Warmer even, and drowsy, and he locked his arms once more about the cold bundled blanket, smelling the herbs as they kept him company in the chill night air. After a time, the blanket began to feel heavy and warmer in his arms. It shifted against him, and felt soft, warm breaths against his neck. He opened his eyes and saw Runa's white fingers clutching his shirt, her body curled close and safe, and her golden hair splayed about the summer grasses and flowers surrounding them. His dreams had taken him to a much kinder place.
A few large fires were blazing in the camp, for many men stayed up late to talk and joke early in the journeys. They were still lively, and though they had ridden in haste the day away, they still had much strength and stamina. Though it was late, Ceolmund thought he might warm himself by the fire as well.
Hot bowls of stew were filled to the brim; each man had finished most of the food their families had sent during the day, and when one made a camp with fires, cooking became one of the prime topics of conversation. There were those men who were often sought out to tend to and season the meals, and it was always disappointing if one of them had stayed home for one reason or another.
Tait had been set to graze for the night, and relieved of her heavy saddle and packs that she might rest as soundly as the men, and Ceolmund had settled his saddle and belongings down on a rock outcropping not far off. Even when he was not on the night watch, he liked to be able to see his surroundings, and always tried to take himself a bit higher than the others, that he might look over the camp.
Gerlaf, a man who had been a friend for many years was moving to camp beside him. The man had stood for him just a month past as a witness, and his wife had played the even more crucial role in keeping Elin occupied the day away. He felt a great debt to Gerlaf, and though he had kept himself buyt the past month, he considered that if they made it home again, the man and his wife would have to come to his home for drinks and a good meal. His wife, Drifa, deserved the most honor, for she had taken the most unseemly task of occupying Elin for hours.
Ceolmund had discovered the flask of brennevin that his sister had tucked in with his food, and when he lifted the lid and smelled what it was, he immediately sighed and re-corked it, tucking it inside the healing kit that Hildred had offered him. Of course Sunni would send him with brennevin. Though she had known for years that hard drinks were not allowed among those on duty. Sunni did not rightly care anymore when or where she would drink; so the thought hardly crossed her that Ceolmund could be penalized for having it.
He would never let a drop of it touch his lips while he rode with the Eored, though, he could also not let himself dump it to the ground for waste. It could possibly come in useful this time of year if one of the men took cold-shock or became injured. The healing kit would be the place for it.
He started moving through one if his personal packs to find his bedroll and blanket. He had not noticed earlier how bursting it was, and now when he opened it, the thick woolen blanket popped out. Runa had of course been at his pack; he should have guessed. Bema's mercy, how had she even fit the thing in there? It was not a travel blanket by any means. Rather, a large blanket to fit upon the bed and keep his wife warm while he was away. He laughed to himself as he tried to push the thing back into the pack, yet he could not seem to figure out how she had folded it in the first place to make it work, so he lay it atop Tait's saddle.
“Wife packed for you, hm?” Gerlaf laughed to him, for he had parked himself beside the man, and was going through his own belongings. “Mine jams the bag so full I near always have to leave something behind. Look at this,” he held up a lumpy brown knit hat. “As if this would fit under my helm... though I suppose I could at least wear it now.” He pulled the hat on down over his ears and felt the relief of it sink over him. “She has never been the best knitter, but don't tell her I said so,”
“What's said in camp, stays in camp,” Ceolmund answered lightly, as it was always the way among the men. He reached into his own pack again, and pulling out a tan bundle.
“Knickers!” Gerlaf remarked, laughing.
“Two pair as well,” Ceolmund answered, balling them back up and shoving them in again to the bottom of the pack.
“Wants to you look fine and clean for those orc we meet,” he chortled.
He laughed to himself. “I wonder when she thinks we have time to change? Maybe I should save a pair for right when we return,” he mused... though decided it was unlikely he would even need a pair upon their return. Not with all the greetings and hellos to happen, at any rate.
Ceolmund reached into the pack once more and this time came upon a small folded parchment, and a metal chain. He held the chain near his eyes to see in the dim light, but he knew it by touch, the lovely little piece of jewelery he was holding. That pretty golden chain that he liked to see upon his wife. It shone brightly in both the sunlight and firelight, and he always favored it upon her when she wore it. It was one of her dress pieces, to go along with her Yule gown, though he had a fondness for it, and had gotten that piece upon her many times over the past month.
“A pretty thing,” Gerlaf stated as he watched Ceolmund with the piece. “May I?” he asked putting out his hand.
He hesitated for a moment, but then offered the chain to Gerlaf, and Gerlaf proceeded to hold it up, in front of Ceolmund's neck. “Befitting of a Captain? I suppose...”
Ceolmund burst out in laughter, taking back the chain. “I should say it looks much nicer upon my wife than it does on me. But it is a nice reminder of her,” the last words were quieter and contemplative as he thought of their earlier parting.
“I should say she left you with a nicer reminder in the street!” Gerlaf laughed.
“That she did,” Ceolmund answered. “But I cannot see what is this?” he held the parchment before his eyes. “A note perhaps? I cannot read it here in the dark.” He began to place things back into his pack, the necklace included, though made no attempt for the blanket, it would be fine here until they returned to sleep.
“Let's go to the fire, so I may read it.”
“You aren't reading it without me. No doubt something sappy, the men would love to hear it I'm sure.” Gerlaf chorused, clapping a hand on the younger man's shoulder. “And I could use some of that stew.”
The two men made their way across the field, around sleeping men upon their bedrolls, and those unpacking and settling down, to the nearest fire where a dozen men were gathered, talking and laughing. The men acknowledged Ceolmund as he walked up, and eyed curiously the piece he was holding in his hand as he took it near the fire.
“What have you got there, Captain? Orders?” one of the men asked.
“No, it's a note from his wife!” Gerlaf answered.
“Must be orders then!” one of the men cracked.
“Bound to be orders if it's from a wife!”
“His wife! And he's got a right pretty one too. I saw her today. Good on you, Captain.”
“She was all over you at the muster. I thought she was going to invite herself along for the ride.”
“My wife never writes to me, what'd she say?”
“Remind you to clean behind your ears I suspect.”
“No, remind you to leave your boots off when you get home!”
“Remind you of everything you didn't have time to do before you left.”
“Don't remind me of the nagging, I've only just got away from it!”
Ceolmund was chuckling lightly all the while as he moved closer to the fire with the note. He was quite curious as well. By this point, at least a dozen men were clamoring around him, and others were sitting and laughing as they ate their stew and basked in the warm glow of the flames. Ceolmund squatted down nearer the light of the flames, taking his time and enjoying the warmth rolling over him as he did so.
He unfurled the little bit of parchment, and before even reading the note, his eyes simply looked to the script. He had never seen Runa's handwriting before, and it warmed him to look upon it. It was not the finest calligraphy he had seen in his life, but it was in a way delicate; much finer than his own scrawl. Certainly written by a woman. Here she was showing him another little piece of her, that he had not yet met, a full days ride away from Edoras.
“So... what's it say?” Gerlaf looked to Ceolmund's face.
Ceolmund looked back to the note, this time reading it.
May this ride be swift and safe, so that we may have our own upon your return.
Yours Always
His laughter caught in his lips and he blew air from his mouth, quickly moving to fold the note before any of the men pressing near had a chance to read, but it was too late. Runa! What had gotten into her? He could barely stop himself from grinning at the very idea of it. She seemed to wish to remind him that there was a 'hello' coming upon his return, and though Ceolmund had thought before that he could not forget about it, now he was certain it would remain at the forefront of his mind.
“May this ride be swift and safe, so that we may have our own upon your return. Yours Always,” one of the men recited as he had stood behind him and read over his shoulder.
Another man snatched the note from his hand and recited it again. It was not long before everyone around the fire had heard it once or twice, and they were rollicking and laughing on the words written.
“There's no such thing as a leisure horseback ride in February,” one man laughed.
“I don't suppose she thinks you'll be gone til summer.”
“I don't think that's the kind of ride she is talking about.”
“No... she meant a riiiiide.”
“That's a dirty note if I've ever heard one!”
“How come my wife doesn't send me along with one of those?”
“Sounds like she likes to go on top... can't say I've ever minded...”
“You must've had a nice honeymoon.”
“No wonder you've been grinning so much.”
“What kind of wife did you find, Captain?”
Laughter was now beginning to course about the whole fire circle, and other men were wandering over to hear the humor as well, the note was read aloud a few more times, and some had committed it to memory; the parchment was no longer even needed to spread the message about.
“What's her name, Captain?”
“Runa,” Ceolmund answered, snatching the note back from the grubby hands that held it.
“The little one, always down at the training grounds? Always used to follow you around?”
“Yeah, she works at the Healing Hall... always seemed so severe to me.”
“Doesn't sound like she's too severe at home though, is she, Captain?”
Ceolmund shook his head. “No, she's very sweet.”
“You're a lovestruck fool, she near gutted me when I tore my stitches that one time.”
“She caught me moving about the hall without my crutch once and I thought she was going to hit me with it!”
“I tried to get off bed rest too early and she near threw me back down on the cot; strong one!”
“Talk about strong, I heard she put a man down on the street before.”
“Better be careful, Captain... she sounds dangerous!”
“From the sound of it doesn't seem like she has such sinister plan for the Captain!”
“Isn't Runa Beorhtric's sister?”
“Beor, who taught your sister to talk like that?” one man looked across the fire to where Beorthric himself had been sitting. Ceolmund had not noticed him there before.
“Why, he taught her the phrase himself, a few weeks past,” Ceolmund answered, looking straight over the flames to him, locking his eyes upon the man. “Came straight from his lips.” A good dozen men burst out in laughter hardly believing it.
“Coming from the man who won't even hug his own mother!”
“The Captain is going to need to give you thanks, Beorhtric! What ideas you've put in your sister's mind!”
Beothtric himself did nothing but grimace and growl, and stand up, grasping his belongings hastily, and moving off to another one of the fires the men had lit; however it was not much use for him there either, for the note had been well memorized by this time, and had spread among each waking man in the camp, becoming the talk of every campfire in the company.
“At any rate, sounds like you've made her happy.”
“You better make it home to that one.”
“I don't think he'd risk not making it home... a promise like that...”
“She'll be missing you in bed tonight.”
“Sounds like she'll be missing him in bed every night.”
Ceolmund could only laugh and shake his head. He was embarrassed at any rate, though he knew the men were having honest fun, and it did not discourage him. Speaking of wives and women, and home, was common talk among the Eored. It kept their spirits up, and it did help them remember what they were fighting for back at home; and also what they were missing. He clutched that little parchment in his hand as he went about his business warming, having a hot bowl of the stew, and trying to relax his muscles from the long hours on horseback the day had granted them.
–---
Back again away from the fire, the night was waging on and Ceolmund had finally warmed himself after his night watch. He carefully tucked the note back into his small pouch that it might stay safe and dry along the journey. He took out his mat and unrolled it, climbing atop and drawing the thick wool blanket over him, and the thinner one atop of that. He lay back and sighed, listening to the soft sound of horses munching dried grass, and the rustle of men moving about, and still voice and laughter coming from near the fire.
Ceolmund lay for some minutes, watching the moon as it lifted higher into the sky. He was tired, but could not seem to drift himself off to sleep. For the month he had spent sleeping upon the plains in his lifetime, it was not as if this were a new task for him, however the blanket seemed not enough now. He had so often fallen asleep the past month with the gentle pressure of Runa's head on his chest, or more often than naught, half her body sprawled over him. He had never wanted for warmth these past weeks, and had forgotten how to sleep alone.
He tried to pull the blanket over his face, to keep out the chill wind and warm himself. It smelled like home. A heavy scent of woodsmoke, from where it had been setting near the hearth. He tried to catch a whiff of his wife among the blanket folds, but she had not used it, and it came up lacking.
He sighed, and rolled to his side; the rocky ground jutting into his hip and shoulder. Perhaps if he had something to put his arms about... he grasped the thinner of the blankets, and pulled it from his shoulders, balling it up in his arms, molding it almost gently and carefully, into just the right width. He wrapped his arms about it, burrowing his face in as he did so. It did little to help, for though he clutched it; the blanket did not clutch him in return. It was not warm within his arms, nor solid, nor did it exude soft breaths or a heartbeat. He sighed, trying for a time to burrow against the blanket, and make his mind forget what it was lacking.
Ceolmund groaned, pulling himself back to sitting, and reaching once more for his pack. He pulled out the golden necklace, and took it back under the covers with him, squeezing it within his hand until the metal had warmed to his touch. He held it out slightly, watching it glint in the moonlight, and he closed his eyes, remembering how Runa had looked when she had worn it, the way her milky white skin looked in the firelight, the gentle curve of her neck, and the way her hair fell into rivers of waves about her shoulders when he loosed it from it's braids. He clutched the golden chain in his hand, and pressed it to his lips, the feel bringing to memory a time this past month, when he had traced that very necklace in kisses along his wife's neck. She had been warm beneath the metal. He clasped it in his hand, holding it near his chest.
After a time of laying awake, he carefully moved to tuck the necklace back in a small pocket of his bag, he did not wish to risk losing it. He frowned, sitting up in the chill of the night air once more. Nothing was seeming to help him to sleep. He stayed up for awhile, resting his arms upon his knees, and his chin atop that, looking to the West where Edoras lay, and wondering if Runa had taken earlier to the watchtower and looked his way. He imagined her face. Her bright blue eyes, and the way her lips were often slightly down turned in the corners as she went about her work. Just a look at her would tell any person she was strong; though her features were delicate and lovel. The way her smiled turned when she looked upon him could make the man fall to pieces and forget all reason.
He hoped she was warm in bed now, long since asleep, and he tried to picture her as she would look upon the mattress by herself, bundled beneath the blankets and furs for warmth. Ceolmund felt an emptiness without her; and he wondered if she felt the same now, alone in the house, with just the fire to keep her company. Ceolmund was by all means not alone here on the plains; yet he felt alone. There were men all about, sleeping near their saddles. Gerlaf was snoring nearby, and many horses were enjoying short rests between their grazing. Yet it was still alone and empty
He pictured the way Runa had looked before dawn in the morning, when he had wakened her with his lips and his touch, and how she had burned like fire beneath him. He replayed the waking hour in his mind. The way she had moved, and the way she murmured to him and called out to him while he loved her. This morning had been different from the desperation the previous day, all motions slow and gentle, and without haste; for it seemed she had forgotten during that short time that he would be leaving her; they had simply enjoyed the closeness of the moment, as if it might last forever. Ceolmund sighed, looking again down to his pack.
He thought about the brennevin Sunni had tucked away for him. He knew a good swig of it would warm him, and help him to relax. Though it was against the orders he had always kept. Some men took to it anyway, and he had never reported a man for trying to keep warm and rest, as long as it had not come up in a bad way for him later. How was he supposed to lead the men, though, if he could not take rest in this chill? It must be at least halfway past the second watch, and then the last would be upon them, and not long after, it would be time to rise again before the sun moved into the sky.
The man reached back for his pack again, finding the healing kit amongst his belongings, his fingers moving through it it for the flask earlier placed there. He lifted it up to look upon it, contemplating his poor decision, and the chill wind blew a gust of something familiar to his face. His countenance changed, and he sat the flask down, instead reaching for the kit again, lifting it to his nose. The scent of herbs came to him, and he could almost cry for the tightening in his chest. It smelled of the Healing Hall, but it smelled of Runa. The way her hair smelled, her hands, her dress. She had near lived in the Hall before he had married her, and she still spent a great deal of time there now. The scent always lingered about her; even after she was freshly bathed.
He held the satchel closer to look into it, trying to use the stray moonlight to see inside, and he pulled out a small bundle of herbs, holding it up to his face almost desperately. Then, carefully, he plucked some of the leaves out from the bundle, tucking everything back as it had been, and putting the brennevin back in the satchel without having touched a drop of it. He moved back down upon his sleeping mat and under his wool, now clutching in his hand the leaves, pressing them against his face. Ceolmund rolled them between his fingers and crushed them, releasing the aroma upon his skin, and he worked the oils of them into the space on his bedroll where he was to lay his head.
The fragrance filled him, and he began to feel better. Warmer even, and drowsy, and he locked his arms once more about the cold bundled blanket, smelling the herbs as they kept him company in the chill night air. After a time, the blanket began to feel heavy and warmer in his arms. It shifted against him, and felt soft, warm breaths against his neck. He opened his eyes and saw Runa's white fingers clutching his shirt, her body curled close and safe, and her golden hair splayed about the summer grasses and flowers surrounding them. His dreams had taken him to a much kinder place.