[Folwren]

“How do you like Scarburg, Lady Saeryn?” Harreld asked.

“I’m surprised you ask: you used to never like talking - much less seek conversation - with me, or any other woman.” Harreld again grinned, this time without looking at her - he was back at work. Saeryn went back to his question. “I like Scarburg very well,” she answered. “I prefer it to Edoras. There seem not to be as many prying eyes, or people watching over lord Eodwine’s shoulder to make sure he does everything right.” Saeryn did not say who she meant. She heard footsteps approaching the smithy. “Anyway,” she continued, absently glancing out to see who it was, “I think as soon as the hall is built, everything will be in excellent...is that -?” She looked again. Her simple glance had caught sight of two familiar figures - one familiar, but not at all expected. The second look confirmed it and she turned fully around. But she didn’t take any steps forward to meet them.

Her mind was bewildered. When Degas hadn’t come earlier she had thought he was dead. She had imagined herself the only one of her family alive, able to do as she decided with no other one to tell her what to do, no one compelling her to leave ever again. On the other hand, it was a good thing he was still alive, and it could conceivably be a good thing he was here now. But she didn’t know what to say or how to feel.

She didn’t notice Eodwine as he came and stepped aside to let Degas come up to his sister. She didn’t hear Eodwine explain that he came that morning searching for her. She just saw Degas, and all she heard were her own questions, two of which finally came out, opposing each other - “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you come sooner?”