Coming and Going (March 3011) {Runa, Adanedhel}
Jun 25, 2018 14:01:49 GMT -5
Post by Ceolmund on Jun 25, 2018 14:01:49 GMT -5
The Captain stood outside the small house on the hill beneath the watchtower, staring at the door. It was early morning. The sun had just broken over the horizon, and the weary Riders of the Eored had filed into the city streets. Now they tended to their horses; helped by the youth throughout the city who had risen at the sound of hoofbeats; the stablehands worked in full swing. Yet the watchtower hill was still sound asleep high above the city gates. Only a few steady fires had begun to flicker through the windows in the morning light.
Ceolmund had tended to Tait himself. The horse was behaving in a way that he could only say was badly. She'd been spooked since the incident at Fangorn, and even the Captain had difficulty controlling her.
He had never hesitated before; never hesitated to throw open his door and burst into his home where his wife waited with warmth and welcoming arms, yet this time seemed different. He had seen unexplainable horrors upon this ride. The wariness which had settled over him while they were still upon the eaves of Fangorn was live and active, beating through his heart. Some strange evil had come from the forest; if the men who saw it were to be believed it was magic.
And he had let magic of the same dark and old nature into his home. He had not feared when he had left. He had felt… almost… content to leave Adanedhel with is family. Wyn had been no concern of his, yet Adanedhel… Ceolmund held his breath.
“Magic is in it's blood. I’m sure somehow he will conjure more of that magic and do something.” Theodred's words were clanging in his mind, and he wondered and feared what might have happened in his absence. An ache and a dread was in him. He had trusted Runa's word, that all would be well, yet Theodred, his long friend, had thought otherwise, and the horrors he had seen at Fangorn had worried his mind.
“I am surprised that you kept it near your wife.”
If anything had happened to Runa… to Paega, to Eormund… on Adanedhel's watch. Ceolmund told himself the elf would not live to face eternity. His face was set as stone as he reached with his cold, dirtied hand for the knob of his door, and pressed it open at dim daybreak.
The house was clean. The hearth was yet banked for the night though he could see the glow of the coals beneath the ashes, and all seemed still. It was too quiet, and for a moment a childhood story flashed to Ceolmund's mind of the faerie's who would steal sleeping children from their beds, and take them into the wilds. Ceolmund had wished for the fairies to take him as a child, yet now the thought of something of fell nature happening to anyone in Edoras, let alone his family… His teeth gritted in his mouth.
He had wondered in the short, past months since Adanedhel had come to to them, bringing his horrors, if all the songs and legends speaking of the fae folk were truly song of the elves, and Theodred's words had caused him pause. What if he had been a fool? And the elf had stolen them away in the clutches of winter to take to his home in the forest? Had anything Adanedhel told him been true? Had he simply been waiting for Ceolmund to depart with the Eored, to work his dark magic as Theodred had believed?
Ceolmund glanced toward the ladder to the loft where the elf had been staying when he had left home six weeks past, and a muscle in his jaw feathered.
“Runa?” he called uneasily, starting for the bedroom with quick, heavy steps, as he discarded his armful of gear in a pile near the entry.
The bedroom doors were shut, yet Ceolmund heard the muffled cry of the baby suddenly sing forth, and he sucked in a loud breath as the thoughts began to slip from his mind, and he threw open the bedroom door.
Ceolmund had tended to Tait himself. The horse was behaving in a way that he could only say was badly. She'd been spooked since the incident at Fangorn, and even the Captain had difficulty controlling her.
He had never hesitated before; never hesitated to throw open his door and burst into his home where his wife waited with warmth and welcoming arms, yet this time seemed different. He had seen unexplainable horrors upon this ride. The wariness which had settled over him while they were still upon the eaves of Fangorn was live and active, beating through his heart. Some strange evil had come from the forest; if the men who saw it were to be believed it was magic.
And he had let magic of the same dark and old nature into his home. He had not feared when he had left. He had felt… almost… content to leave Adanedhel with is family. Wyn had been no concern of his, yet Adanedhel… Ceolmund held his breath.
“Magic is in it's blood. I’m sure somehow he will conjure more of that magic and do something.” Theodred's words were clanging in his mind, and he wondered and feared what might have happened in his absence. An ache and a dread was in him. He had trusted Runa's word, that all would be well, yet Theodred, his long friend, had thought otherwise, and the horrors he had seen at Fangorn had worried his mind.
“I am surprised that you kept it near your wife.”
If anything had happened to Runa… to Paega, to Eormund… on Adanedhel's watch. Ceolmund told himself the elf would not live to face eternity. His face was set as stone as he reached with his cold, dirtied hand for the knob of his door, and pressed it open at dim daybreak.
The house was clean. The hearth was yet banked for the night though he could see the glow of the coals beneath the ashes, and all seemed still. It was too quiet, and for a moment a childhood story flashed to Ceolmund's mind of the faerie's who would steal sleeping children from their beds, and take them into the wilds. Ceolmund had wished for the fairies to take him as a child, yet now the thought of something of fell nature happening to anyone in Edoras, let alone his family… His teeth gritted in his mouth.
He had wondered in the short, past months since Adanedhel had come to to them, bringing his horrors, if all the songs and legends speaking of the fae folk were truly song of the elves, and Theodred's words had caused him pause. What if he had been a fool? And the elf had stolen them away in the clutches of winter to take to his home in the forest? Had anything Adanedhel told him been true? Had he simply been waiting for Ceolmund to depart with the Eored, to work his dark magic as Theodred had believed?
Ceolmund glanced toward the ladder to the loft where the elf had been staying when he had left home six weeks past, and a muscle in his jaw feathered.
“Runa?” he called uneasily, starting for the bedroom with quick, heavy steps, as he discarded his armful of gear in a pile near the entry.
The bedroom doors were shut, yet Ceolmund heard the muffled cry of the baby suddenly sing forth, and he sucked in a loud breath as the thoughts began to slip from his mind, and he threw open the bedroom door.