[Folwren]

Bror was grinning broadly as he and Unna spoke a last word together. She went her way and Bror turned to put his harp somewhere safe until he could put it away after the gathering had broken up. He turned and walked back to his place at the table and was about to sit down again when he noticed his brothers and father sitting in a small knot several paces away.

His curiosity was instantly peaked and instead of taking a seat there, he walked towards the small group his family made. Reaching them, he leaned on both Skald and Riv and bent his head to hear the words they were speaking so soberly and quietly. The smile that was still flickering about his face faded as he caught his father’s words.

‘-Thousands of them storming about the city. I’ve heard them described as ants coming out of an ant hill...marching on in endless lines.’

‘What?’ Bror asked abruptly. ‘Thousands of what about what place?’

Riv waved him off, shrugging his shoulder to make him stand up. Bror stood accordingly and glanced about for a chair or stool of some sort. He pulled a nearby one up as Skald asked a question.

‘They want our help?’ Bror looked at him and at first was inclined to smile, but after a second’s thought decided not to. His brother had the look of having drunk overly much ale, but the very fact that he looked entirely in his right mind and without the least amount of merriness in any shadow of his face, caused Bror to think twice on the conversation he had just entered into. His eyes turned to his father as he answered.

‘They need help and have asked for it. Even if they hadn’t asked, I don’t think that we could very well sit here and let them all be destroyed. Our turn would come next, invariably. There’s little safety under any mountain when such an army is just outside of it, and swiftly growing.’