𝑨𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒉 | ✔️

2 | In the Meade Hall

SUMMER - 5TH June 864AD - Midday

"Move over will you, Ardith? You're looking at the new Valor Defender. Once the king dubs me, I no longer have to sit with you peasants." My brother, Edwyn squeezed between me and my best friend, Cwenhild. He set his tray of food, stuffing his face with bread. He took a swig of his ale, sighing with satisfaction.

I glared at him in annoyance. Did he have to be so rude and annoying?

Around lunch time, the Meade Hall was filled with villagers gathered around long tables wolfing down whatever food was available. Usually, the culinary team in the kitchen would spend the early morning cooking for the hundreds of mouths to feed. A hubbub of chatter and laughter echoed through the long, dim hall. The light came from the candles hung on the chandeliers above and the fireplace n the centre made up of timber and stones.

Young girls in identical grey garbs came around tables, delivering meals to hungry villagers. More people came pouring through the hall, huddling around tables.

The Meade Hall was used for different occasions. Whenever somebody had a wedding or an annual festival, there would be a feast held here, which would go on for days. Sometimes poets, musicians or dancers performed while the villagers wolfed down their meals.
The king often held meetings with the village usually about preparation for incoming raids. During raids, women and children were evacuated here for safety the while the soldiers fought outside into the fray battling driving away those northern invaders. Alas, many have laid down their lives to protect us all.

Candles hung on chained chandeliers in the ceiling, creating an illuminating glow and casting dark silhouettes of the hall's inhabitants. A fireplace stood in the centre made up of chopped timber, stones, lit with flames.

Almost a month had passed since the last Viking attack. I figured most people used this time to take a breather and get on with their lives without worrying about those Barbarians. I for one cannot help but feel anxious they might attack anytime soon. Neither of us know when those Vikings will attack.

I fiddled my spoon in my soup then my gaze lingered on the tapestries that draped along the dark, timber walls, telling tales of our nation's past rulers, beasts from Saxon folklore and helmed warriors spilling enemies' blood.

Around me, I picked up conversations about father's return. Word around here spread fast. Usually whenever he returned, father would gather around children and intrigued listeners, and he would share tales of his adventures.

I saw no signs of father anyway, so I assumed he was still down in the village. The life of a merchant may be exciting, but it can be overwhelming.

"Ardith, do you think you can mend my boots?" Edwyn adjusted his belt as he put both feet up on the table, showing off his worn out boots. One of them had a large rip in the sole. "You see, my boots are broken. I cannot train with these rubbish things."

Cwenhild and I scrunched our noses in disgust.

"Put your feet down, Edwyn," I scolded, shoving his feet aside. "For your information, I'm a tailor, not a cobbler. There is a difference. If you need new boots, why don't you go down to Alwin the town's cobbler?"

Putting his feet down, Edwyn gave a wicked smirk.
"I know. I just wanted to see your reaction, little sister."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm only two years younger than you. Besides, I'm twenty-one."

"So, how did it go with Einilda?" Edwyn asked. "I heard she was very annoyed with you. Skipping a morning of making clothes? How could you think of doing such a thing, Ardith?" He gasped mockingly. "You know it's important for us to feel comfortable and look good. How are soldiers like me supposed to fight in battle without making a bold fashion statement? At least let those Vikings know how stylish we can be."