[Arry]

Amidst his dreamings there had come the sound of a single voice, like a soft airy breeze . . . refreshing . . . and in some way, hope filled. And then laughter . . . the tinkling of silver bells carried on the wind, echoing down the darker ways. It was a merry sound and it called him up, until he blinked, smiling into the cloudy night, as he sat up.

‘Bror?’ he called softly, reorienting himself to the fact they were camping rough with the Elves from Lindon. He shifted on the thin layer of blanket that served as a poor barrier between his skin and bones and the pebbly ground. And found the blanket wanting.

When at last he had squirmed into a less than bothersome position, he spoke quietly so as not to wake the others who were sleeping. ‘I had the most wonderful dream. Someone was laughing. Did you hear it? I was sure it was real.’ He raised his hands above his head then flexed his back, his bones crackling against each other down his spine as they popped protestingly into place.

‘It’s still night!’ he went on, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. Skald’s mouth yawned widely. He rubbed his hands down the sides of his face, scratching at his beard as he went.

‘What’s this?!’ he said in a peeved tone. The hair of his beard was damp and sticky; his fingers were tacky as he pulled them away from his face. In the occasional bar of pale light that crept out the rents in the clouds, he could see the tips of his fingers bore some dark stain.

‘Bror!’ he said again, this time in a manner more vexed and edged with disbelief. ‘What have you done?’