[littlemanpoet]

After his compliment to Manawyth, who seemed a good wager to be his future bard, he walked over to Saeryn, still standing in the corner. He had marked her quiet and bashful entrance into the mead hall as Manawyth had begun his song. He saw no sign of tears, but as he approached, her face looked troubled, and she working hard to hold herself from further tears.

"Is something amiss, lady Saeryn?" The warmth of his tone belied the formality of his words, for he thought of her as much like a daughter to him as was Gudryn.

She jumped a little, blushing that he'd so easily seen through her front. She considered the truth and considered her recent fears. She respected Eodwine too much to lie to him, but her thoughts were still too sensitive to share.

"Amiss?" she asked carefully. "Only that it's nearing lunch and you've barely eaten. You'll fall sick if you're not careful."

She bit her lip and caught herself, quickly pretending she hadn't. She wasn't lying, she qualified to herself... she was merely skirting the truth a little.

Eodwine smirked. "If such a woeful face is the mirror of your thoughts, I must be near death's door." He rubbed his belly with both hands, finding no lack of innards. "No, that is not it. Worried about my health you are not, though I thank you for the kind thought. If you wish to keep your troubles to yourself, I will not gainsay you nor threaten them out of you, d-" Eodwine caught his tongue. "-dear child." He forced a smile.

Saeryn felt guilty now, keeping from him what was on her mind. She could not solve her problem without sharing it with him... but she did not want to bring up the subject of swearing allegiance. While he'd doubtlessly assure her that no such thing was necessary, it would bring to his mind speculation as to why she was so nervous of it. It might raise questions that had no answers she cared to give. She sought for an answer that would divert his attention from her history. She was curious as to how much he knew or guessed... but asking him would be akin, to her mind, to inviting disaster.

"I... I am worried about my twin. He disappeared from the Inn days ago with no word and he took almost nothing with him. I don't know where he is. I hope..." She trailed off, mentally smacking herself. She didn't want to speak of her family and what had she done but give a perfect opening for such discussion?

"From what I have seen," Eodwine answered lightly, "your brother Degas is likely to disappear for days and turn up when he pleases. He is no doubt at some rival inn with a wench on his-" Eodwine paused. Saeryn's expression only became more morose at his light words. He frowned. "Do you fear his death, then? Has he said something to you?" Eodwine put his arm around Saeryn's shoulder and drew her nearer to the fire, careful not to strain her bruised ribs. "Here, sit and speak your heart if you like, d-" Eodwine clicked his tongue, "-lady Saeryn. I will do what I can to aid you."

She allowed herself to be led to the fire and to be sat like a child next to Eodwine. Manawyth had begun to play a lilting melody on the harp, one that suited the melancholy expression on Saeryn's face.

"He said nothing to me," she murmered, worried. "That is what bothers me. In his first... his only, I suppose... days here, Degas told me of..."

She stopped, nervous. She became unusually fascinated with the state of her shaking fingers. She tried once more. Eodwine sat, silently listening.

"Our brother..." she paused again, uncertain of what bothered her as much as that she did not know exactly what to say. "When my parents died... my sister and I... What I mean to say is that my sister... my brother and I..."

A quiet tear leaked out as her voice cracked. Before Eodwine knew what had happened, his hand had reached out to wipe the tear from her face; it stalled for a split second. Her eyes darted toward his hand and to his eyes. He reached and wiped the tear away, removing his hand to his lap.

"Go on," he said while his mind sped with fleeting thoughts, wondering if anybody had seen the gesture, and if they guessed - wrongly or rightly - what it might portend.

Saeryn's eyes were fixed on her hands. Eodwine's fingers had been rough from life's work, but they were surprisingly soft and gentle as he wiped away Saeryn's tear. She remembered what it was like to be held tight by her father as she cried as a child and sighed.

She spoke now toward the floor, unsure if her voice was even loud enough for him to hear.

"A short time after my parents left, word came to us that they had died. I do not even remember what their errand had been. My brother... my older brother... was of an age. He became..." She could not remember if Eodwine knew any of this. "He became the lord of my family's lands. He... he is arrogant. Rash. He does not always know the correct thing to say, so he allows his actions to speak for him... And he has always desired power that is beyond him. To take what he believes is promised to him..."

Saeryn remembered bruises as a girl when she had made him look like a fool before some local boys. He had found her after in the stables and she had carefully hidden the tender purple marks from her parents and from her twin. While most boys would never dream of hitting a girl, Saeryn's brother was... She considered a long line of curse words before deciding that silence better filled the space. The memories burned her like hot smoke, stinging her eyes and catching in her throat. Her freedom of choice had been taken from her in every sense after her parents had died. Even her stallion had been sold. Fenrir had wanted to show his sister her place... subservient to him. He was the lord and she was merely a girl.

Shortly after her eighteenth birthday, Saeryn had left. She had stolen a horse from her family's stables and disappeared before the break of dawn. She whispered now.

"I overheard him discussing my betrothal. My parents... my father had never mentioned one. Never. I expect that my brother was arranging a marriage for me that would secure more power for him. I left. He's been searching for me. That was the last thing that Degas told me before he disappeared."

She blushed at her own story, falling silent. She was a silly girl. A runaway. She'd had an enviable life and a good marriage was being planned. Why had she told him anything? She'd thrown away a life that some would kill for. Eodwine had every right to send her home. Saeryn could barely breathe for fear that any respect he had had for her had disappeared. She was just a foolish girl.

Eodwine sensed that she was holding much back; yet she was opening her very heart to him. A rapid succession of emotions swept through him: sympathy for lost loved ones - he knew that pain; anger at any who would harm her; rage at this brother who would use her life for his own ends; and last, resolve. Eodwine took her shaking hands in his.

"Saeryn, you are safe here. The law of our folk does say that your brother has certain rights ... listen to me, Saeryn!" he whispered, for she had looked up at him in sudden fear. "Saeryn, the heart of that law is that you should marry well rather than for his gain. I say again, you are safe here, for there is another law amongst our folk, that one who holds authority may stand for you against he who would use the law of our folk to his own ends instead of for justice. Saeryn, I will stand for you." He released her left hand and raised his fist to his heart. "By the Eorling that I hold from the King, I swear it!" He held her eyes, which had grown wide and still looked troubled. Her cheeks had become flushed. Yes, good, thought Eodwine, she understands the nature of oaths. "Once more I will say it, Lady Saeryn of the Folde, m-" he closed his mouth abruptly "-my guest and friend: you are safe here."

Manawyth had touched the harp with a melancholy melody up until this moment. When Eodwine had finished his words and released Saeryn's hands, and glanced at Manawyth, the Dunlending began to sing.