Tortrym 1: Home Of The Weary

My fantasy novel Will not die...Even a digital ragnarok cannot stop it. This is fantasy and proud of it.

Tortrym Thread 1: Home Of The Weary.

A single crash of thunder brought the night to an end. The next sound was the cockerel�s morning song as the sun rose over the sparkling waters of the Windy Sea. Tortrym�s dreams were as glorious as his name. For within there was also thunder. The heavens above ripped open every time his horse�s hooves pounded the earth. His sword slashed down at imagined foes in bloodless battle for a righteous cause that had long since ceased to be of importance. For him, as he returned across the golden fields to his beloved maiden, life was simple. His dreams were precious until they faded to grey.

He first became aware of daybreak after the gentle breeze had begun to ruffle the curtains. The thickset drapes played with the light. That in itself was not enough to move him, especially the night after a feast in his honour. Leoha squirmed as she began to wake. Her leg slid off from atop his own. Her head nuzzled his bare chest as her knee crashed into his balls. �Urgh!� he cursed and threw her off him. There was a squeal as she bounced over Onaela and fell arse over tit onto the floor. �I�ll have three wives but no balls at this rate!�

Leoha said nothing as she lay on the floor. Her dark red hair sprayed out across the boards like the setting sun on deck. He paid her no attention as he rubbed his balls with one hand. The pain began to subside as his eyes came too. The room was quite small for a Greathall yet, better kept than most. The doors were oak but the rest were made of the finest ash, an abundant tree on the hill. All around were thick drapes, iron braziers and oaken chests.

He threw off what remained of the fur quilts and stood up. The sun cut an arc through the room dissecting it in two. The line of light lay between the door and him. He smiled, not from the beauty of nature, well, not the beauty of light anyway. Instead, the sight of the light caressing Meo�s bare buttocks roused him. For a moment, he considered taking her. A ballsy twinge soon put paid to that idea as he stroked her curves then made for the door.

He was a little surprised to find the lock opened and the bolt sitting in its home. He looked around suspiciously. Everything seemed in place. All of his chests were shut, presumably locked. His wives slept peacefully in their own poses. Onaela was curled up in a ball, Meo lay on her face with her rear in the air and Leoha lay on her back on the floor. In the end he realised he didn�t know the rooms well enough to know if anything was out of place. Furthermore, he expected the open lock to be a sign of his drunkenness the night before.

The door swung open with a reassuring creak. At least one piece of security worked round here, he thought to himself. Then he stepped into the main Hall with its vaulted wooden ceiling. Rays of light streamed in through the open windows. All around him, men lay asleep. His personal Renweard, Stangar, was missing. Indeed no one guarded his room. He sighed then stepped over the slumbering form of the local Thegn, Elkhorn Methemann. He threaded his way through snoring slobs until he reached the table. A few sat at their seats munching on hard bread or washing their faces in the big wooden basins.

Upon seeing their Atheling arrive at the table, they stood to a man. He waved them down and made for the nearest basin. The man, a guard of the Thegn, offered it willingly. The cold water hit him like a slap in the face and his senses returned. �Where is my guard? Where is Stangar Elmshaft?�

�He is in the bushes.� The straggly fellow next to him offered. �He has been there all night.�

Tortrym smiled. �Cant keep his drink down?�
�Nah.� A man with a bushy red beard laughed. �My wife�s cooking did it to him.�
�He did like my berry pie.� A woman with a basket stated as she walked out.

He looked around him to see men waking up and rubbing their eyes. One of them was his ageing advisor, Wulflegar Leode. �Wulflegar, I seem to have no Renweard today.�

Wulflegar stretched his back with a grimace and flexed his fingers. He was a thin man with thin white stubble that never seemed to grow much. He adjusted his furs and walked over to the table. �This is a safe place in safe times my lord. One Renweard is more than sufficient.�

�I am sure Kewlin Redwalder would have agreed with you right up until the moment a serving girl�s father slit his throat in the middle of the night. I am the son of the King, don�t you forget it.�

�All his sons are important to him. If he had felt that the Northern Bay Lords were a danger he would have given you more guards.�
�It is no matter.� He turned to the basin and spat into it then passed it on to the next man. �Ah the life of the fourth son of a King.�

Wulflegar swept back his wild tendrils of hair. �Better the fourth son of a King than the fourth son of a lesser man.�

�Aye.� A loud roar came up from across the hall. �If you were the fourth son of a lesser man I would have no one to pay for my drinks for me.�

Tortrym turned around to see the hulking figure of his best mate walk down the length of the table towards him. Like Tortrym, Lund Wigend, was a tall thickset man, all muscle. They had grown up together in the winter capital, Regensmuth. As he walked, Lund threw off his great helm to reveal his long brown hair that stretched down to the middle of his back. His wife, Rona, had braided it with flowers. When he reached the Atheling, they hugged fiercely then took their seats at the table.

Tortrym clasped Lund around the shoulder. It had been too long since they had seen each other. �What brings you here my friend?�

�Your father had me dealing with land disputes in the region when word came that the Priest of Wedden had been murdered in Layweed. When we arrived, the locals all pointed the finger to a local freeman who lives in the Aescwood known as Sidord Messerbane. Rona stayed behind to gather witnesses as the local men and I led a hunt for him.

�At Moonrise we found him in his farmstead alone save a few dogs. We took him back to the village and locked him in a Grubhouse for the night. I was about to take a rest in the local Meadhall when word came that you had arrived at Willenheah Hall in Aescwold. It was a few hours ride south along the Hollow path. So, here I am.�

Tortrym nodded. �I will dispense the King�s justice then. Wulflegar, tell the Thegn that we shall ride for Layweed within the hour.�

�With respect my lord.� Wulflegar protested. �Your brother and crown-Atheling wanted you back in Regensmuth for the Gods Prayers to worship the black shapes in the sky. A sign of a God born to the land they say.�

Tortrym shrugged. �Let my brother, the future King, play with sky Gods. I will protect the real people of Layweed instead.� He turned to Lund. �Can you ride?�

�Aye, I am a little famished is all.�
�No problem, your cousin is here. Elfidge!� A strong thickset man entered the hall carrying a brace of rabbits. He was clean-shaven save a short tuft of hair below the lips. �Hot food, bread and breakfast for Lund and I.�

Elfidge threw the rabbits to a young serving lad. �Healthy or hearty?�
Tortrym exchanged glances with Lund then they both replied. �What do you think?�
�Hearty it is.� Elfidge turned and shouted through the door. �Hot broth, fresh bread, pig stew and baked pots for the Atheling!�

By this time, the whole hall had awoken. A fresh pitcher of water was brought in for the Ladies. Leoha wore a tight green dress; Meo wore her riding leathers while Onaela had clad herself in thick furs. As the men began to drag themselves to the table, in various states of disrepair the Thegn took his seat next to the Atheling.

�My lord, we ride for Layweed today. Shall I bring a few guards?�
�A few shall do. I will leave my ladies here along with my Renweard, Stangar Empty-bowels. I will entrust them to your household until my return.�
�You do my household a great honour sir. My Renweard, Wonred Swinhelm is not as sprightly as he once was but is still the finest swordsman of Aescwold.�
A grey haired waif of a man stood and bowed. �I had the honour of guarding your grandfather�s household two score years ago. It is my pleasure to guard yours now.�

�Thank you. Then it is settled. After we break fast we shall ride for Layweed to see Priest murderer Messerbane.�