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Gurth ceased his strange attempts at song as the Master hailed him, holding up a massive hand in salute. At his feet, Grendel also slowed, panting in a gargantuan manner, its great pink river of a tongue lolling out from between its daggers of teeth. Gurth assumed a solemn...practically noble...expression as Sorn addressed him.
"Good Morning dear Gurth! You were given too much last night, I fear. You should set to the kitchen and get some bread for you and your hound. You look to sorely need it!"
At the sound of "kitchen" and "bread", Gurth nodded gratefully, like a drowning man thrown a line or an invalid offered a cure by a doctor. He yanked Grendel along by the scruff of his neck, who came willingly enough, quite tolerating treatment from his owner which would have been instant death to any...less proportionally sized. The giant shook his head, his yellow locks tumbling back impressively, and he smiled widely.
"Sorn," he remarked amiably as he passed his lord, who returned the gesture with an almost fatherly smile. When the colossal Fool reached the farmstead's pantry, he found a fine breakfast laid out for him; bread, certainly, but also a specially huge flagon of goat's milk and a wheel of goat's cheese, as well as a haunch of ham to be shared between man and beast. As the loyal retainers felt the food settle in their stomachs, they stretched contentedly, knowing that never would there be any such Master to treat them so kindly.
But Gurth was not unaware of the meaning of duty, and once his repast was finished, he set out to the door at the house's left end which led down to the cellar. The time had come for him to assume the guard duties of that weakling sneak Scyld, and protect that strange creature beyond the bars, whose gaze inspired a feeling with which he was uncertain and confident.
It was, did he but know it, guilt.
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