Coming and Going (March 3011) {Runa, Adanedhel}
Jun 28, 2018 19:03:10 GMT -5
Post by Runa on Jun 28, 2018 19:03:10 GMT -5
Ceolmund’s arm came as a barrier to halt Runa’s steps, and the woman tilted her eyes to mark him as her lip twitched downward. She did not allow it to pass; her hand gripped at his, gently pressing it back to his side as she took a step forward. Ceolmund was a good man—the best man in Edoras beside her own father, she was certain. Even what he did now was for his love for her, Eormund, and Paega. The new baby he shielded without second thought.
This time, though, a captain was not needed. It was her husband; the gentle man that she had seen grow fine and strong, the one that loved Edoras and those that dwelt therein, the one who loved her, even when many thought her little more than a man. Adanedhel stood, his lithe form tall and elegant before them. In his hand he clutched something. A gift, Runa knew. Though what it was, she had not been told. Adanedhel had been a great keeper of secrets.
“Well, now that both of you are here…And since Ceolmund is home safely I suppose it is time for me to depart. Both of you had let me live here for a short while and I thank both of you very much. You have, in some ways, become like family to me.”
“Depart?” Runa repeated quietly in question. She supposed she knew he had been intending to leave come spring, and she had wondered within herself if Wyn’s leaving would spur the elf to desire and yearn for home. He had seemed wistful those days ago, speaking of his woodland home, of the wide world beyond Rohan’s stark plains. The healer supposed the fact he could leave at all was a miracle. She had never had a patient in such a state before. Not even Ceolmund after the sword to his neck. “Stay at least for breakfast,” the woman offered.
It was not often that food was from her mind these days, though greater still was her desire to be certain that Adanedhel was at least able to leave supplied, and that Paega, who had come to enjoy his company, would not need suffer two of her friends stealing away in the night.
Though the woman knew Adanedhel had heard, he made no reply at the moment. Perhaps Ceolmund’s face was too rigid and uninviting. He appeared stern, she supposed, and he had not been warm at all since stepping through the threshold. Perhaps she would need speak again and assure their guest he was welcome at their table…
The cloth-draped item was extended, and a light came upon Adanedhel’s eye.
“I believe I had promised you something, Captain. Remember? It was shortly before you left, you had seem interested. Now, I shall give it to you. And no, what I have made you does not have magic. This, I swear.”
A blade was freed from beneath the cloth, and the pale silver of the metal glinted in the morning light that seeped in through the windows. Runa marveled, mouth agape as she raked a small breath over her lips. “You made this?”
All this time she had not known he was a smith. Was this what he had stolen away to do while she tended the house with the children? Certainly she had placed no leash to tether him to their home. She had not realized how much time he must have spent at the forge, and to never smell it upon him when he returned…
Well, it was a wonder.
Even her husband’s face had changed. There was a wonderment in his expression, one that she had not seen upon his face since Adanedhel had come to their city at all. “Ceol,” she whispered to him, setting a hand at the small of his back. It was not uncommon for the man to forget to use his words, and even if his face radiated his awe and thanks, Adanedhel would certainly wish to hear it as well.
“It is fine make. Thank you.”
It certainly was. Runa had never seen a blade with lines quite like this. It was certainly crafted to fit her husband’s height and his meaty hand, though there was no guard to speak of. She wondered how it was the sword was meant to be used, or how skilled the elven warriors were to not rely on such safety and balance points.
Ceolmund handed her the blade, and the woman looked upon it closely. It was far lighter than she had thought it would be, especially for the size. The hilt was a full hand an a half grip for her, one that would have needed both her hands to wield with any surety. The blade itself was too long for her to manage, though by weight it was indeed within her range. She wondered at it, if she might learn to use it despite its size. She had not thought on using an elvish blade before, though perhaps with practice she might.
“You will go after her,” her husband’s voice reached her through her thoughts, and she looked up to him hurriedly, wondering on the question and the forthright deliverance.
“Ceol,” she chided, glancing hurriedly to Adanedhel as if to gauge the elf’s expression. Still, the elf was as stoic as ever, and her study did not pass his mask. She extended the blade back to Ceolmund, as if to remind him to be gentle to one who would impart such a gift.
This time, though, a captain was not needed. It was her husband; the gentle man that she had seen grow fine and strong, the one that loved Edoras and those that dwelt therein, the one who loved her, even when many thought her little more than a man. Adanedhel stood, his lithe form tall and elegant before them. In his hand he clutched something. A gift, Runa knew. Though what it was, she had not been told. Adanedhel had been a great keeper of secrets.
“Well, now that both of you are here…And since Ceolmund is home safely I suppose it is time for me to depart. Both of you had let me live here for a short while and I thank both of you very much. You have, in some ways, become like family to me.”
“Depart?” Runa repeated quietly in question. She supposed she knew he had been intending to leave come spring, and she had wondered within herself if Wyn’s leaving would spur the elf to desire and yearn for home. He had seemed wistful those days ago, speaking of his woodland home, of the wide world beyond Rohan’s stark plains. The healer supposed the fact he could leave at all was a miracle. She had never had a patient in such a state before. Not even Ceolmund after the sword to his neck. “Stay at least for breakfast,” the woman offered.
It was not often that food was from her mind these days, though greater still was her desire to be certain that Adanedhel was at least able to leave supplied, and that Paega, who had come to enjoy his company, would not need suffer two of her friends stealing away in the night.
Though the woman knew Adanedhel had heard, he made no reply at the moment. Perhaps Ceolmund’s face was too rigid and uninviting. He appeared stern, she supposed, and he had not been warm at all since stepping through the threshold. Perhaps she would need speak again and assure their guest he was welcome at their table…
The cloth-draped item was extended, and a light came upon Adanedhel’s eye.
“I believe I had promised you something, Captain. Remember? It was shortly before you left, you had seem interested. Now, I shall give it to you. And no, what I have made you does not have magic. This, I swear.”
A blade was freed from beneath the cloth, and the pale silver of the metal glinted in the morning light that seeped in through the windows. Runa marveled, mouth agape as she raked a small breath over her lips. “You made this?”
All this time she had not known he was a smith. Was this what he had stolen away to do while she tended the house with the children? Certainly she had placed no leash to tether him to their home. She had not realized how much time he must have spent at the forge, and to never smell it upon him when he returned…
Well, it was a wonder.
Even her husband’s face had changed. There was a wonderment in his expression, one that she had not seen upon his face since Adanedhel had come to their city at all. “Ceol,” she whispered to him, setting a hand at the small of his back. It was not uncommon for the man to forget to use his words, and even if his face radiated his awe and thanks, Adanedhel would certainly wish to hear it as well.
“It is fine make. Thank you.”
It certainly was. Runa had never seen a blade with lines quite like this. It was certainly crafted to fit her husband’s height and his meaty hand, though there was no guard to speak of. She wondered how it was the sword was meant to be used, or how skilled the elven warriors were to not rely on such safety and balance points.
Ceolmund handed her the blade, and the woman looked upon it closely. It was far lighter than she had thought it would be, especially for the size. The hilt was a full hand an a half grip for her, one that would have needed both her hands to wield with any surety. The blade itself was too long for her to manage, though by weight it was indeed within her range. She wondered at it, if she might learn to use it despite its size. She had not thought on using an elvish blade before, though perhaps with practice she might.
“You will go after her,” her husband’s voice reached her through her thoughts, and she looked up to him hurriedly, wondering on the question and the forthright deliverance.
“Ceol,” she chided, glancing hurriedly to Adanedhel as if to gauge the elf’s expression. Still, the elf was as stoic as ever, and her study did not pass his mask. She extended the blade back to Ceolmund, as if to remind him to be gentle to one who would impart such a gift.