Double Drowned
Sept 23, 2018 0:09:44 GMT -5
Post by Ceolmund on Sept 23, 2018 0:09:44 GMT -5
Ceolmund did as instructed after Runa had left his side, letting Hildred set the steaming pot for him and the towel, her voice somehow familiar and comforting, moreso than any he knew. Perhaps slipping even deeper into him than Runa’s. It was true he had known Hildred long before he had met her children, Ceolmund knew, though the hours passed with Runa in past years were not quaint, and surely he should be more akin to her own comforting voice than her mother’s. He could not explain it.
“She’ll be right back.I’m going to go take care of some things, and I’ll be back to check on you.”
Likely it was only a matter of time before Elin stormed her way back in, drunk as stone on Beltane, guardsmen in tow. Someone was going to have to go for Oda, and Avila had been idle long enough.
Ceolmund knew she would be back, though the she which came to mind was not Runa. He needed no reassurance on Runa’s presence at his side, she had been there to tend to him for years, and though something strange had come between them in the time since he had returned from Aldburg, he knew her loyalty to him, and she knew his. They were friends yet. Best friends. Ceolmund would not lose that of her, and his best friend was here to help him.
The she who would be back was his mother, he was certain. Elin would not give him peace. She would want him to go with them, and Ceolmund could not resist the guards if he would need go by force. He let the towel hang over his head as he sat silently in thought, though pain rippled through him each time he coughed, as the steam tried to loosen that which his lungs were retaining. Hildred had already stepped away when the thought came to the young man to ask someone to run up the hill for his Grandmother. Surely Dagny would put her foot down and dismiss Elin. At least… try. Dangy would keep her free from Runa and Hildred whom his Mother had grave disdain for. Where was Oda?
He had not much time to think on the matter for the guardhouse was downhill the opposite direction, no further than his own home near the gate of the city, and Elin had fled swiftly to their assistance. The guards pacing near the gate this day were youth; no older than Ceolmund himself, and his kinsman, but Elin had no care. They recognized the woman as she came in red-faced. Surprisingly she smelled only of stale mead and not fresh, for Elin had taken no drink this day and the lithe woman did not stumble on her feet.
“Abducted!” she had exclaimed. “Abducted my son!”
The young guards knew not the stories of the past, for it had going on fifteen years since the last instance of Elin howling words of abduction and kidnapping, and they knew not that Ceolmund had no younger siblings, and thus spurred into righteous action at the chance to stop the purpetrator, the clad guardsman ran up the hill, Elin on their heels directing them into the healing hall where they expected to see the place held up by some rouge Wildmen or Thieves looking for a ransom of gold and silver.
Yet nothing they saw other than the general hubbub of the Healing Hall.
“Where’s my son?” Elin gasped as he she entered the doors behind them. “The healers, the healers took him; they refuse to release him. Where is he? What did you do with him!”” Gasping out, she did not see him beneath the towel at first until Ceolmund had managed to wrangle it off his head, coughing though he wished to speak.
“This son?” One of the guards almost laughed suddenly, as Elin’s face seemed to confirm the answer, that the well grown young Eored rider was her son. The one who had fallen and near drowned during the skirmish and then again. “Ceolmund?”
Ceolmund raised his hand slightly and nodded, unable to bring forth words.
“She’ll be right back.I’m going to go take care of some things, and I’ll be back to check on you.”
Likely it was only a matter of time before Elin stormed her way back in, drunk as stone on Beltane, guardsmen in tow. Someone was going to have to go for Oda, and Avila had been idle long enough.
Ceolmund knew she would be back, though the she which came to mind was not Runa. He needed no reassurance on Runa’s presence at his side, she had been there to tend to him for years, and though something strange had come between them in the time since he had returned from Aldburg, he knew her loyalty to him, and she knew his. They were friends yet. Best friends. Ceolmund would not lose that of her, and his best friend was here to help him.
The she who would be back was his mother, he was certain. Elin would not give him peace. She would want him to go with them, and Ceolmund could not resist the guards if he would need go by force. He let the towel hang over his head as he sat silently in thought, though pain rippled through him each time he coughed, as the steam tried to loosen that which his lungs were retaining. Hildred had already stepped away when the thought came to the young man to ask someone to run up the hill for his Grandmother. Surely Dagny would put her foot down and dismiss Elin. At least… try. Dangy would keep her free from Runa and Hildred whom his Mother had grave disdain for. Where was Oda?
He had not much time to think on the matter for the guardhouse was downhill the opposite direction, no further than his own home near the gate of the city, and Elin had fled swiftly to their assistance. The guards pacing near the gate this day were youth; no older than Ceolmund himself, and his kinsman, but Elin had no care. They recognized the woman as she came in red-faced. Surprisingly she smelled only of stale mead and not fresh, for Elin had taken no drink this day and the lithe woman did not stumble on her feet.
“Abducted!” she had exclaimed. “Abducted my son!”
The young guards knew not the stories of the past, for it had going on fifteen years since the last instance of Elin howling words of abduction and kidnapping, and they knew not that Ceolmund had no younger siblings, and thus spurred into righteous action at the chance to stop the purpetrator, the clad guardsman ran up the hill, Elin on their heels directing them into the healing hall where they expected to see the place held up by some rouge Wildmen or Thieves looking for a ransom of gold and silver.
Yet nothing they saw other than the general hubbub of the Healing Hall.
“Where’s my son?” Elin gasped as he she entered the doors behind them. “The healers, the healers took him; they refuse to release him. Where is he? What did you do with him!”” Gasping out, she did not see him beneath the towel at first until Ceolmund had managed to wrangle it off his head, coughing though he wished to speak.
“This son?” One of the guards almost laughed suddenly, as Elin’s face seemed to confirm the answer, that the well grown young Eored rider was her son. The one who had fallen and near drowned during the skirmish and then again. “Ceolmund?”
Ceolmund raised his hand slightly and nodded, unable to bring forth words.