There was to be no decision made that day, with the vast majority of those involved in the discussions dispersing throughout Dagfinnr's magnificent realm. Some, such as Wolffish, received an invitation to investigate an underground lake, so he departed to show the Dwarves how to fish. Though in the south, there were many Sea-Dwarves, those Dwarves who had taken to the sea, few if any ever ventured north to Dagfinnr's realm to teach his people the art of fishing and boating. It was thus for this reason that Wolffish had an invitation to teach some of the people just that. Thorgils and Dunneyrr were to visit the armouries, alongside their fathers, to discuss what weapons there were and to compare the arms they did have.
It was agreed between them that Aðalsteinn the guard and the likes of Helgi's company ought to continue to confer after a short halt to the council. The King, having a great deal in discussing their situation, along with that of the Lady Azalea, who, after a time, preferred to retire from his presence to take her Pegasus from within the tunnels outside, via, of all things, a hole in the roof. Informed of this fact, Sigrún was told by Durin that she was no less surprised by the existence of such an opening than Azalea had been. "She was quite shocked, I tell you, about this contraption of ours. We dug an opening and left a hidden trap-door atop the mountain in the event we might ever have to abandon this place."
"Why has she taken her Pegasus outside?" was Sigrún's next question.
"Oh, she simply worried for the animal, as it had begun to grow restless after days of being trapped below ground." Durin explained to her, smiling a little, "But not before she allowed my daughter the honour of riding upon it once she had calmed it."
"You are a father, Durin?" Sigrún asked him curiously.
Durin nodded his head, a small smile on his lips, "It has been some time since her mother passed, yet I have ever raised her as best I could."
"Is she the reason we have not seen you in days?" Auðun asked him, curious.
"In part, though she is the reason that neither Prince Völmung's niece, the Princess Eldrid, nor Myrgjǫl, has been seen, well that and their fascination towards Azalea's mount," Durin replied with a shrug of his muscular shoulders.
This revelation amused the pair journeying through the city with him. The two were soon distracted from their talk of the girls, much to the relief of the young woman, who never liked to hear of her half-sister. In the days since they had begun to attend the council of Dagfinnr, they had rarely, if ever, seen the young girls, with Sigrún by temperament more inclined towards the princess Eldrid, Völmung's beloved niece.
They went about their shopping for rations for the upcoming journey in peace, with Auðun still a little hesitant to agree with her that this was entirely necessary. Sigrún, for her part, did not care to argue with him, nor was she to later argue with him towards the end of the day when they returned to the palace of their host.
It was as they left the large, dozens of meters long and wide market square that they were met by Völmung himself, who welcomed them back with a gracious smile on his beard. "At last, you have returned. I must speak with both of you."
"I shall take that to mean I ought to depart now," Durin remarked somewhat woefully.
"Nonsense, I suppose it will be public knowledge soon, so that it shall be very likely that a decision will be made regarding what ought to be done regarding the map of Gautstafr," Völmung replied proudly, his arms folded across his wide chest as he levelled clear blue eyes upon the pair of them. "I intend to begin preparations to leave for the Witch's Tower, in the hopes of putting an end to this shadow that has loomed over my ancestors for millennia."
"What, really?" Durin asked, "What brought this on?"
"The council meetings have convinced me of the importance of at last putting this matter to rest, and after speaking to Dagfinnr and Skalmöld, my resolve has hardened," Völmung replied with a grim smile on his lips.
Sigrún contemplated the decision of their friend and rescuer. It was he who had sought to help save Wolffish and Auðun, and thus he to whom they owed their lives and so much more. If he were to depart on his own, she could sense that it would be the last time that they saw him. Worried for his safety, she risked a glance in Auðun's direction.
"Why do you intend to go? And by what route?" Auðun queried with an unreadable expression on his face, scratching at his ordinarily clean-shaven chin, which had begun to show a hint of facial hair.
"I will take the route the map proposes and combine it with the knowledge the Dwarves have of the Edranite Depths. I have been consulting with Dagfinnr and his family, and have come to the conclusion that the swiftest route is through those Depths and to come out near one of the many entrances that were lost millennia ago, out near the shrine, and from there make for the Witch's Tower." The mighty warrior explained warmly, with a small smile, only to say with some regret, "I must confess to feeling guilty, though, as I hate to leave Aslaug so soon. You will, I hope, tell her after I have left, there was no other choice to be had?"
Auðun considered his words, visibly pleased by the courage displayed by his friend, full of admiration, he was to ask, "You really intend to go the rest of the way alone?"
"Indeed, and I think there is on that account no further need for either of you to continue past this place," He replied not unkindly, "I know you both must miss your homes."
Both youths shifted and looked away, discomfited. Neither of them was quite able to look him in the eye, such was the guilt that they felt at the notion of returning home whilst he risked his life. It was, however, the young man it was who threw himself forward first, keen to prove his masculinity even as he was reluctant to say goodbye forever to his friend.
"Völmung, how could you think such of us? Duty and honour would call me forward on this journey with thee," Auðun pronounced eagerly, to the surprise of the slightly older youth.
"Auðun, I do not think it wise, besides, should you not consult with Thormundr?" Völmung replied almost at once, speaking Thormundr's name as always with a particular disdain.
"I cannot in good conscience return home, to leave the fighting to others." Auðun snapped a hint of pride now beginning to decorate his voice, a touch of anger and defiance entering it also. "I am no child to consult with his father for permission, not when there is a greater duty to the Kingdom. Like you, I love Norvech and would not see her laid low, if anyone should return back the way we have come, it ought to be Sigrún."
"Pardon? Why must I return back the way we came?" Sigrún demanded furious that he had spoken for her.
"Because you are a lady and there is nothing further for you to accomplish, Sigrún, on this quest."
"Mayhaps in your view, however, to my mind I have yet to properly complete my duty to the memory of old Helgi and his kindred. If you hold me in the slightest regard, I would not have you speak for me so," Sigrún snapped furiously, turning to leave with a toss of her long blonde locks. "I had thought you both different from other men, and now must reconsider the regard I held both of thee in."
Both men were left to stare after her, that is, until Völmung burst into unexpected laughter, to her irritation. If the Prince was amused at her coldness, and rebuke the sorcerer's apprentice for his part was filled with confusion and frustration. He had sought to protect her, as any man might have done simply out of a sense of affection and duty.
"Women!" He hissed, throwing his hands in the air, "They are impossible, I daresay!"
"Indeed," Völmung replied with a chortle that was to prove short-lived, for one of Dagfinnr's servants came hurrying hither to fetch him, to inform him that the King wished to speak with him.
*****
The knowledge that she was resolved to carry on to the Darkspire soon made itself known to others who had journeyed to Fránnstein. It was the view of not only Auðun and Völmungthat they had a duty to see to, but also that of the likes of Dunneyrr, who announced his intention to accompany them when she and Völmung made it evident what they intended to do.
"I must accompany any who goes down into that place. I am the most familiar with the Edranite Depths, which would be the best route by which we might reach the area nearest the Witch's Tower." Dunneyrr declared to them, shortly after they were invited along with a number of others to break their fasts with the King, who wished to hear from the likes of those from Heiðrrán, after hearing from the likes of Völmung, about his intentions to carry on to the Darkspire. "My intention, Father, is to act as a guide for Völmung and those who might accompany him!"
"Now see here, my son," Dagfinnr began, visibly stunned by the revelation.
"None knows the Edranite Depths better than I, father; therefore, it is only logical that it be I and my friends if they will support us, who act as his guide!" Dunneyrr persisted, pushing past his father's immediate objections.
Unfortunately for poor old Dagfinnr, who, though he had stomached the odd incursion if only in the higher and most distant corners of the Edranite Depths, there were those present who appeared to be considering the Prince's reasoning. Notably, Aithlin, Gontran, and the Lady Azalea seemed to be quite convinced.
"He is right," Aithlin remarked with a thoughtful expression on his face, "I think that if we are to require a guide, it ought to be one of the sons of Dagfinnr, and the one most familiar with the Depths."
"All the more, since those of us from outside your world of subterranean kingdoms and lands," Gontran added eagerly, his face suddenly looking youthful as he almost bounced in his seat. Chortling loudly, he was to say with a pleased look on his face, "All is well, now that the matter is settled, let us discuss by what route we will all be travelling through the Depths?"
"I had thought to use a map that has been in my family since the time of King Dunneyrr, who was father's great-great-grandfather," Dunneyrr proposed as he laid out along the table a very old, very yellow map, one with a great many creases and that looked a little faded.
"Well done, uncle, though I do not know if that is the best route to take," Darin said with visible doubt on his face.
"Bah, it shall have to be!"
"I must admit that I am quite awed by the courage of the sons of the house of Dagfinnr," Cried Skalmöld, visibly impressed, only to jest with the still gaping Dagfinnr, "Really, Dagfinnr, if you could only see yourself, you would think thyself a corpse!"
Her jest was one that only she found funny, well, her and the likes of Thorgils and Auðun. The two of them were chuckling a little louder than either of them realized at first, with the former turning his laughter into a cough when he saw the disapproving looks of his father and stepsister. As to the latter, he hid his laughter after a moment, behind his hand, though his eyes continued to glimmer with amusement.
If the two of them were approving few others were, with Gontran remarking, "I do not think that was the most appropriate of jests to make, Lady Skalmöld."
"Oui, it was also quite honestly the very worst jest I have heard in some time," Alban grunted with a snort.
"It was not quite as bad as all that," his sworn brother disagreed.
"But it was."
"Never mind such nonsense; it was most of all insensitive when Dagfinnr evidently had not hoped to send his son into such danger." Aithlin interrupted impatient, as always, and looking on Skalmöld with displeasure, only for the youthful-looking lady to shrug her shoulders.
"Oh, do not be so serious, you may well soon be a corpse, as might us all; therefore, we ought to jest a little about the situation," Skalmöld replied breezily, waving away his concerns and worsening the divide between the two of them.
The bitter recriminations and disagreements that had for some time dominated the table continued on for quite some time, until at last Dagfinnr's grandson spoke up. The only son of the heir of the Kingdom, as always, hurried to the rescue of his grandfather, or so he wished to do. Keen to support him, what the youth did not know was that his pushing forward with the most pressing issue was the reverse of what his grandfather wished for. Signalling to several of the guards present, he was supported in silencing those present with their assistance, along with that of Dunneyrr and Alban the Ogre, who shouted loudly above all others present. Gifted with a booming voice that was deeper than any of those present, his face turning scarlet as he bellowed for others to give Darin the floor, so to speak, Alban once he had silenced, encouraged him to speak.
"Of those of us present, who here intends to wander into the shadows to correct the mistakes that were made long ago?" Darin queried forcefully, his eyes going from one person to the next. "Ah I see, I had been told that the Lady Skalmöld, Thormundr, Guðleifr, Sigrún, Aithlin, Völmung, Auðun, Vegarðr, and the Knights intended to depart for the Witch's Tower."
"Indeed," Auðun affirmed eagerly, with several of those around him staring at him in surprise to hear his name mentioned as among those willing to join in the quest to stop the revival of the Witch.
"Wait, Auðun… why?" Thormundr uttered his voice, cracking, having been previously ignorant of how his apprentice had also volunteered for the journey through the Edranite Depths.
"He is a man grown, leave him, Thormundr. More importantly, Sigrún, what are you thinking, you fool?!" Guðleifr hissed, hardly able to believe his own ears, for he had also not been aware that the two youths had volunteered for this duty.
"And she is a woman grown," Völmung defended sharply, adding for good measure, "Where we go, we shall have to endure the aid of the young though we would prefer not to have them with us. Sigrún, though a lady, has proven her worth as a shieldmaiden and has been blooded."
"Yes, but what of her mother?"
"What of her? Sadly, Gertrud shall have to endure her sorrow for a little longer," Skalmöld intervened only to say when she saw his surprise, "Yes, I know of Gertrud, I have heard some tell of her from Thorgils."
Hardly pleased to hear of how his son had spoken idly and at some length to strangers about their life in Heiðrrán, Guðleifr glowered at him. Thorgils, for his part, while he had visibly disapproved of the decision of his stepsister and friend, was to cough to recover from his embarrassment.
Never one to let others be hurt when he might assist, he said, if irritably, "With due respect to all those who have mentioned the two's names and defended their actions. I must object as my father has; they are not prepared for such a journey and are youths. They know not what they will have to endure on this quest."
"I beg your pardon!"
"I will go, no matter what!"
The two in question objected even as the Wolffish sighed sorrowfully and remarked, "If there is one who has no wish to go, it is I." His remark was so strange that it immediately silenced the argument that was in full momentum. "I should like to return to my ship, to see my brother and to teach my youngest brothers and sisters to fish, and to see my father's grave one last time." At those words, Guðleifr looked away, ashamed that Wolffish's father had, like Freyvar, died in the battle of Smaragfield. "But let us speak true; none of those gathered here has a choice. Destiny has pulled us from our beds, our hearths, and brought us hither; any man who might back away from his duty at this crossroad is no man. Any Wolffram who does not volunteer is no true wolf, just as no Knight would turn back and no shieldmaiden would ever accept being sent home at this time."
*****
The argument at an end, all fell quiet. They had not the words, and for a time, there was a great brooding silence that overcame them. None present therewith them wished to turn back, or so Sigrún believed.
She was, however, to prove herself the very most naïve of women when several people present spoke out against the wise words of valiant Wolffish. Chief among them was Helgi and his supporters, while Azalea, proud warrior that she was, burst into tears of shame even as Dagfinnr echoed with his previous objections to the outrage of his grandson and son.
First to react was Völmung, who, with soft eyes and a softer voice, asked of the Lady Azalea, "You weep, dear lady, why?"
"Because I, too, wish to brave the Edranite Depths, yet cannot! Hwītvængr would never endure them! I have no wish to prove myself a coward," The lady wept, pinching the bridge of her nose and wiping at her eyes with her other hand.
Her visible distressed more than one person present, yet to the surprise of some, it was neither Völmung nor any of the middle-aged men who had demonstrated much chivalry in the past who spoke out. It was Alban. "Dear lady," He said in his deep and extremely accented voice, "Madame, if you will forgive me for addressing you and speaking up for all present, none judge thee. We have volunteered because we have no greater duty than this and no other choice. You have braved winter chills, enemy arrows, and armies and have even come to the rescue of the likes of Helgi and ourselves. What you have done is of inestimable value; you are greater in courage and in female goodness than any present here. And not one man present shall speak ill of you so long as I draw breath!"
This last part was uttered with a menacing gleam in his eyes, even as he wiped away the tears that trickled down her cheeks with the edge of his thumb as might a father with his child. Moved by his words, Azalea stern and fierce clung to his large thumb and staring at him in gratitude, wordlessly nodded her head. Unable to form the words, her throat closed and her eyes even more wet than before, she was to prove herself unable to tear her gaze from him for quite some time, such was the weight of the gratitude that weighed upon her.
No less devoted was Gontran, who spoke out proudly, "Lo! You see, mon frère? My brother here has spoken most true and has proven his worth already, both as a Knight and a speaker, so that none, not even you, Elf, or you Dwarves, might doubt him!"
"Hmm, so you say," Aithlin grunted doubtfully.
"I do not quite agree," Dunneyrr echoed sharply, "Regardless where we go, so long as he can wield a sword and has wits enough to listen, we shall have need of him."
"It is decided then; we all go down into the Depths, with Dunneyrr to lead us while the Lady Azalea goes to warn the Lady Astrid of our intentions and to hold the fort. We shall arrive in due time to her rescue with troops and what aid we can supply at that time!" Völmung bellowed, buoyed by everyone's words of valour and oaths to go along on the journey.
And it was at this time that two objections were uttered.
One was muttered by Helgi, who was glaring in the direction of Sigrún, "I will not go whither into that place."
Another silence followed. This one, though, became chilly, as Sigrún bowed her head, hurt, and her kinsmen growled even as her friends grunted and slammed their fists. Helgi's company was large and could prove of use in the battles that were to come.
"Why?" Thorgils demanded furiously.
"I will not travel with Sigrún."
"And why is that?"
"She had a duty. She failed in it."
"And what duty is that?" Wolffish snapped irritably.
"She had the duty to call upon my house that we might partake in the vengeance against my grandfather, grandmother, and other kinsmen and people's killers. She did not." Helgi retorted as he drew himself up.
Sigrún gaped at him, unable to believe her ears. That was the reason he had avoided her, had treated her so icily. Try as she might, she could not fathom why such a thing could be made into a reason for them to be so divided.
She had done her duty of avenging Helgi's killer, and had done so with notions of filial piety and had risked her life, time and again, that she might prove herself worthy of him. Yet she was rejected for those very feelings and efforts?
It dizzied her so that she had to fight to keep from swooning; such was the grief that overwhelmed her. Sigrún had to fight to restrain a hysterical laugh. All along, she had believed her only place to be with Helgi and his kindred; all along, she had dreamt that when this whole matter was over, she would return to Bleikrhaug, yet here Helgi the Younger was, saying she had no place with him and his. Now she knew; she was truly alone.
"You are a rat, and a worm," Guðleifr hissed, his eyes full of fury, "We fought for thy bloody grandfather again, and risked our own lives, Sigrún more than any other, all that blood would be paid in blood as is right in the eyes of the Æsir and you would reject this?"
"She ought to have included me in the vengeance; it was mine, and she stole it from me."
"You ought to have been there. What were you doing? Hiding?"
"That is quite the accusation, considering you, and you alone survived from Heiðrrán the battle of Smaragfield." Aðalsteinn growled furiously, "We might say you are far greater a coward than any man here!"
At those words, Guðleifr turned white with rage. His teeth clenched, his hands balled, he stared with such rage that for a moment, Sigrún could only stare at him, as she was torn from her own inner turmoil. Never had she before then seen her stepfather gripped by such a rage. And never, ere that moment, had she felt herself so moved by compassion for him, as she had never considered how it must have felt to have survived the battle all his friends died in, nigh on a generation ago. He had survived and had saved Helgi the Elder, and had fought bravely; this was never doubted by Sigrún, or any other person from Heiðrrán, with even Helgi and his wife having spoken well of Freygar, who took a mortal blow for the Jarl and Guðleifr, who had fought like a demon that the Jarl might live.
It was not to be Guðleifr, though, who was to react with the greatest display of anger at the accusation.
"I will have your head, knave!" Thorgils shrieked as his hand leapt to his belt, unsheathed a dagger, and he leapt over the table.
Genial and kindly to a fault, patient to the point of complacency, the son and pride and joy of Guðleifr was still, no matter what any thought him a man. And one who took pride in his father, honoured him, and loved him above all others, so that his bound ought not to have surprised as many as it did.
Even Aðalsteinn was startled, with Helgi barely having time to react. Hardly able to speak or utter words, Thorgils bellowed as might a great bear, his dagger slicing through the air and his face twisted with rage as it turned a vivid shade of scarlet.
Ultimately, the brawl was not to be, as Aithlin and Vegarðr reacted with alarming speed. The two of them seized hold of the eldest of the children of the house of Guðleifr, drawing him away. Gontran, a little slower than they, also threw himself onto the table to assist, as the drink and what food remained were kicked about.
Aðalsteinn, having time to recover, along with the rest of the guards who belonged to Helgi's house, drew back, their faces angry and their hands on their sword pommels.
It was ultimately Völmung who diffused the situation by yelling above the din, "Stop this madness in the name of King Dagfinnr! Are you children to brawl and scrap, and kick about in such a manner!? Guards, take Thorgils from this place, give him some wine; he is to wait until this council is over." Turning to Helgi and his household, he added dangerously as Thorgils was dragged from the hall. "I would not… not if you wish to continue to draw breath and not be served as dinner to the ravens."
They demurred, though not without muttered threats. Helgi, for his part, with one last glower in the direction of the rest of them (notably his foster-sister), turned away and left the hall.
Peace at last restored, some resumed their seats. Others did not, with the likes of Aithlin, Gontran, Alban, and Vegarðr having left with the still frothing at the mouth Thorgils. Wolffish soon departed to go assist with calming down his closest friend, while the rest of them fell into sullen silence.
It was to be Dunneyrr who brought about more trouble when he cleared his throat, and with a shared glance with his nephew, muttered. "We ought to leave in two days' time, at sunrise."
This is when the second of the commotions, though the quieter by far, took place, with Dagfinnr muttering stubbornly, having been angered by the brawl that had very nearly arisen in his hall. "There is no 'we' where you are concerned, my son. You are not accompanying them."
"Grandfather, no one knows the Depths quite so well as Uncle Dunneyrr, though," Darin said reasonably if reluctantly.
"Silence Darin."
"It is the truth, Your Grace." Völmung piped up, still standing, and only now moving to regain his seat.
"And I say it is my decision first as his King and father. He will not go." Dagfinnr persisted furious.
"Father, I would ask you to be reasonable. We cannot ask others to follow the map to the Witch's Tower to endure untold sorrows and dangers, while we remain shut up and hidden and safe." Dunneyrr said quite reasonably to his father, "And I am a warrior blooded and possibly the one with the most experience here in battle after Aithlin."
Dagfinnr, though, would not listen. Preferring to insist obstinately about his need for his son by his side, especially his youngest, he would not pay heed. There was, however, a glimmer in his eyes, especially when his son next spoke of duty, one that bespoke of paternal pride, even as he refused to let him go.
It was to be Skalmöld who spoke, or rather sang a song. A song of such infinite sorrow and grief, it was one that made all heads turn in her direction. Her feet still propped upon the table, she sang beautifully, her voice tinged with an unearthly, heartbreaking sense of mourning, even as she played with her tresses as she had all throughout the council.
"From weeping halls,
To blacken'd fields,
Down in shadow'd valleys,
Amidst crumbling walls,
Sister, O Sister,
Where art thou?
O how our father
Hast wept for thou,
And our mother
Didst grieve for thee,
Therein their dim chambers,
And in their torch-less halls,
A sister was lost,
As was a daughter,
O how they wept!"
It was only as the song came to an end that she muttered, "None can defy their destiny. Not gods, not men, and certainly not thou King of Fránnstein. Dunneyrr must accompany us."
Reason and wisdom might well have prevailed with another. But though wise beyond the ken of men, and even some Elves, Dagfinnr was also obstinate and a man who loved above all else his sons, especially the youngest birthed before his wife's end.
His face softened during the song, now hardened so that he muttered, "Never!"
He then exunted from the hall, his guards following after him even as his grandchildren did so, if reluctantly, last he heard, though, before the doors closed were the hot-tempered words of Dunneyrr. "Whether you approve or not, Father, I must go and will go whither to the Darkspire, for I would not have it said that the house of Dagfinnr is as cowardly as that of Helgi. And I would have men continue to speak in awe of the bravery and valour of the sons of Dagfinnr!"
*****
The council closed and broke since Dagfinnr was no longer present to preside over it. More than one soul was filled with frustration and anger at the manner in which it had ended. No decision had been reached, not firmly, it seemed in the eyes of some.
Some, such as Völmung, considered the matter closed and behaved accordingly, ordering alongside Darin rations to be gathered, equipment assembled, and for all to be fitted. This meant that the likes of Thorgils, Wolffish, and Guðleifr were to be given new armour. These new hauberks were to be made of Dwarfsteel, the same as that which had been commanded for Azalea and Sigrún.
Pleased and flattered as she was by these treasures that must have cost more than a King's ransom, and that some rulers might well have traded their children for, it was not at all what Sigrún wished most for. Certainly, she was pleased to be included in this quest, and not to be forced to return to Heiðrrán with Myrgjǫl (whom Guðleifr kept close at all times now, foreseeing that farewells would soon be in order, as Dagfinnr intended to send her home under guard). Her heart and mind were troubled by the words of Helgi, his utter and complete rejection of her, so that she had glumly agreed to not only the fitting for one day, but the following one thereafter to accompany Durin and Auðun on another journey through the marketplace.
"Whatever may come of it, I do sincerely hope that you will not forget me, or our good King and his courtesy," Durin said to them as he escorted Sigrún, the two magii, and the Knights down through the intersecting tunnels to the local market. "I was a little startled, if I may say so, to hear you called for me to escort you down to the market, when in order to welcome those of Helgi's troupe, you must have already crossed by the market-square."
"Yes, but we must stock ourselves with supplies before the next part of our adventure," Sigrún informed him sharply.
"Oh, really? Whereabouts do you intend to leave for?" Durin wondered curiously.
This query surprised her, so Sigrún asked him, "You do not know? I had thought, judging by how you had addressed us, that you must know."
"Even I am unaware of where you intend to journey, Sigrún," Auðun admitted, visibly confused by the direction of her thoughts.
"It ought to be apparent to you by this time, Auðun," She retorted evenly, some of the old coldness from before his injury beginning to creep back into her speech.
Sighing in frustration, Auðun bit back a sarcastic reply, preferring to watch and listen, unhappy that she had decided to accompany the troop headed for the Witch's Tower. It had been his hope that he might dissuade her from going and convince her to go back to her mother. Hardly alone, in feeling unsure of her thoughts and doubtful that any good could come of it, he was to discover Durin gazing at him with sympathetic eyes.
*****
They were to devote themselves for hours to the purchasing of a great many rations, new armour to replace that which had been damaged en route for Fránnstein. Armour which had to be fitted and adjusted if ever so slightly for Sigrún overnight. It was believed it might cost them a great deal; however, the blacksmith informed her, he had already been told to expect them and that the King would see to the costs.
Amazed at this generous act on the part of the ruler, Sigrún was to thank him and to silence the mage's apprentice who tried to insist that they pay. His own sense of fidelity and integrity made it so that he hesitated at such a thought, much to her irritation, as she felt it more important to see to saving what coin they had.
It was not long thereafter, as they stepped out from the blacksmith's forge, that they were to be greeted by the sound of people gathering, as the Dwarves hurried forth from their homes. Thronging into the streets, they were clearly excited by something that mystified the small group, with it not long before they saw the source of the excitement. It was Helgi.
Once more dressed in his hauberk and surrounded by his guards, the Jarl and his troop were in the midst of marching back the way they had come, just a few days prior.
Confused, Sigrún could only gape and stare over the heads of the many Dwarves who stood all about her, shaking their own heads. "Where is he headed with all his guard?"
Auðun, far more perceptive than she was where Helgi was concerned, as of late guessed at once, "I imagine he did not much like what Dagfinnr had to say these past several days."
"I must speak to him," Sigrún said at once, throwing herself forward in the direction of her foster family in the hopes that she might reason with them. "Helgi! Helgi! Aðalsteinn! Please, heed my words! It is I, Sigrún!"
"Sigrún, wait!" Auðun called out to no avail.
Resolved to hear the truth from the lips of Helgi, she was to fight her way through the crowd towards the only family she seemed to have left. Once at the head of the crowd, she threw herself against the reins of the horse of Helgi, crying out as she did.
The youth, startled by her sudden appearance, just as his guards were with the whole of their numbers, hesitated and thus kept from attacking her. Recognising her at once, they were to study her intently, then study their Jarl as they awaited his orders.
"Release me, Sigrún," Helgi commanded through gritted teeth.
"No! You cannot go out there, the Collubar might still be there!" Sigrún hissed, fearful for the only brother she had ever known.
"Release me! I will not remain here, nor will I leave for some mythical tower that may or may not exist." Helgi snapped at her, his own iciness more than a match for her own that she had wielded as a dagger or sword against the likes of Auðun, among others.
"But, Helgi-"
"I will not stand by and watch as you throw thy life away and those around you," Sigrún cried out to him, careless of how she might appear to those around her as she clung to his horse's side.
Helgi, though, had little in the way of patience for her or her outbursts. To the surprise of the girl, it was not his words that he used to rid himself of her, but rather the boot to her shoulder that dislodged her from his side.
Thrown to the ground to one side, to the bewilderment of the local Dwarves and people, Helgi and his guard, ignoring her, carried on. Sigrún, for her part, though, remained where she had fallen, hardly daring to sit up, the sting of Helgi's rejection of her biting harder into her soul than even she had expected it to.
A part of her wished to weep, another part wished to scream, even as she longed for the world to be as it once was before she returned to Heiðrrán. Why? She asked herself, why was it that she and she alone had no place and none since Helgi's death to call her own?
By her side in an instant, Auðun it was who wrapped his arms around her, saying as he did so, "Leave him, Sigrún, forget about him, and let the cowards run and hide in their keep."
The words uttered loudly and contemptuously scored him several glares from those departing, Helgi included. The lot of them stared at him, furious with the slur to their honour, with Aðalsteinn growling at him, "What did you say, boy?!"
"You are cowards." Auðun repeated louder, "Cowards who prefer to strike a girl than to fight to defend and rescue Norvech, and who lack the courage to do what is necessary and dare the Edranite Depths to stop the Witch!"
"Auðun, stop!" Sigrún pleaded with him, still hardly able to bring herself to sit up properly and startling the sorcerer's apprentice, who stared at her in bewilderment.
"But-"
"Listen to the girl, before there is more trouble than you could possibly manage, boy," Aðalsteinn hissed from between his teeth.
It was not, however, Auðun who flared up, his staff suddenly in hand and held up to the visible apprehension of Helgi and his guard, though, who convinced them to be on their way. Nor was it Sigrún who clung to her friend's side in a vain effort to plead with him to calm himself, but the likes of Azalea and Skalmöld who dissuaded them.
"Away from this place with the lot of you," Azalea snapped at them, "Do you not have a keep to fly to, away from thy duty to Helgi the Old?"
There was a moment. Just one where it appeared as though there might be a scuffle, so to speak, between the Lady Azalea and Helgi and his entourage, when suddenly the city-guard appeared. Fierce were they, with the emblem of the emerald-winged sword of the house of Dagfinnr and commanded by his beloved grandson, so that even Helgi, caught up as he was in his own vanity, hesitated. He would not risk, nor would his over-zealous guards, a brawl over a single girl or two, with such heavily armed guards present.
Snorting, they turned about on their heels when Skalmöld delivered to them words that chilled the blood of Dwarves and men alike. Words that drew more than one frightened stare in her direction, and more than one person backed away from her.
Her voice was not simply cold and ominous, but seemed sincerely amused, if in the darkest of ways, when she spoke. "Remember Helgi Algautrsson, that you have chosen this fate and that the night is coldest, most especially after death, for those who choose cowardice over heroism…"