The group journeyed quite some distance in order to reach the tavern known by the name of the Slobbering Hog. It was there that they hoped to find refuge for the night, they were to discover the tavern to be some distance from the forest they had been trapped in for days. Lying at the foot of the hill covered by the forest, the tavern was a long two storied building, with a wooden roof and surrounded by vast fields that seemed to divide the Burrowwoods from that to the east which was known by the name of Hvítriðr.
To the north of the forest and the fields was Mt-Vargrfjell, a mountain that the Hvítriðr forest seemed as though it were trying to keep apart from the more southerly mountains. This division between the various mountains those nearer to Heiðrrán and that which was farther away, was one that caught the immediate attention of Sigrún, who was to stare for quite some time. Intrigued by the majesty and beauty of those great white peaks, she was unable to keep from staring.
Others such as Wolffish and Thormundr were to stare southwards, irritated to find themselves so far away from the sea. To the south, there were more forests that led to a great rise before giving way to a hill.
"That way over yonder lies the sea," Thormundr explained irritably, adding as he pointed in that direction, "Yon sea lies a day away, so that we seem to have stumbled rather more to the north than I might have otherwise liked."
"Agreed," Wolffish muttered nodding to himself, agreeing with the old sorcerer for the first time it seemed, in recent memory.
Sigrún hardly interested in the ugly black rock to the south of them, preferred to ignore it in favour of the distant beauty, of the great white ones to the north. It happened that when she glanced back to the tavern and the dozen buildings that were to be found spread all about it throughout the fields, that divided the two forests she was filled with a great deal of unease. Certainly, the young woman had given them a passing glance before, and though she detested the notion of turning back to return whence she had come, to the village of Heiðrrán she was suddenly filled with a great reluctance towards this place.
"I do not much like this place," Sigrún confessed to the Wolffish, whom she had ridden with (after his and Thorgils' horses had been reclaimed).
"Bah, it is only a group of farms," He replied only to add a moment later, "I must confess that the distance from the sea has affected me also."
"No, it is not about the sea, but rather… I have a sense that something is amiss here, just as it was in the forest," She replied in a dead whisper uneasy and full of a mounting sense of dread the nearer they drew to the small village. "Mark my words, there is nothing of good that is to be found in this place."
None of them paid heed to her warnings, only Auðun cared to listen, and himself only on condition that they purchase something to eat before they leave. Famished after the time in the woods, or to be more apt below ground, he was insistent almost annoyingly so that they stop somewhere to eat. Irritated by this insistence on his part, Guðleifr was to agree yet also dismiss his stepdaughter's concerns.
"I have travelled to and from this place on a multitude of occasions over the years, there is little suspicious about it, or odd here beyond the strange, tastelessness to the local soup." He muttered with a snort, as he led his horse to the nearby stables.
Auðun who had ridden with him, was to cast surreptitious glances all about them, as he followed him into the stables that lay to the right of the large tavern. The stables itself was a small extra building that had in place of a wooden roof, a thatch one.
In Sigrún's estimation it was the most decrepit building she had ever set eyes upon, with there being only two other horses within the stables. One was a young mare the sort used more for the ploughing of fields than actual travel. While the other was a large and fierce beast, one that was dark, with a flash of white near their hooves and dark eyes, with the beast glaring at each of them as they passed. Thankfully it was secured in its stall, and could not threaten them, not that this was much comfort to any of them, as the beast seemed to growl especially at Wolffish who growled back if ever so slightly.
"I ordinarily quite like horses and steeds, yet this one is the most unpleasant creature I have ever set eyes upon," He grumbled with a mean look to the animal.
"Come now, Wolffish it is only a beast," Thormundr jeered at once, though Sigrún noticed that he too seemed to shiver when near it, and prefer not to stand near it.
"Let us get the horses into their stalls, once this has been done, we may then speak of whether a horse is a beast or not," Guðleifr snapped at the rest of them, visibly tired and impatient to find them a room.
"I will see to arranging a room, father," Thorgils proposed at once, sensing how strained his father's temper was becoming.
It was with a shallow nod that he and Thormundr both agreed to this idea. It mostly fell upon Auðun to stable their mounts, alongside Wolffish who had a natural touch for animals such as horses. The two of them were to eagerly arrange the horses into their stalls, with the animals soon given plenty of oats and hay, with the former coming out of Thormundr's bag attached to his own steed.
Once the animals had been properly fed, Guðleifr led them from the stable, and into the tavern itself. The building's wooden door creaked open loudly enough, to make each of them wince. Not a single member of their troupe was particularly impressed by this first impression of an otherwise inoffensive building.
The first thing though that Sigrún took notice of was that there were more people present therein the tavern than previously expected. It seemed to her mind that perhaps half the local village, was present, likely drawn to it by the offer of cold ale and the promise of a warm fire.
The interior was larger than originally exhibited by the exterior, so that even after a full minute or five Sigrún was not entirely certain she had seen all that the common-room had to offer. Bathed in shadows, much of it was impossible to properly discern, because of how few in number the torches and candles were. Directly before them was a large bar, one that cut directly across the centre of the room, while to the large and just past the square-shaped bar was the common room with its assortment of wooden tables and chairs. The floor no less wooden was ill-taken care of and dirty, so that Sigrún wrinkled her nose at the stench, and was to promise herself that she would not take her boots off her dainty feet, whilst indoors. This in spite of how often, her mother and Sigdis had spoken of doing so, less one appear rude.
To the right of the bar was a large well-lit doorway, one that they knew likely led to the kitchen, from which there was a great many wondrous scents to be discovered. It was mostly hidden from view not only because it lay to one side, but also because of how to the right of them, rising above that part of the wall was the large staircase which led to the second floor. It was there that the inn-rooms were to be found they guessed, with but a single glance though the top of those stairs was likewise cast in shadows.
In all, it did not give the impression of being a place of great warmth. As though in defiance of this perception of the tavern, there was a large fire in the chimneys to the left and also the one to the back of the main hall both roaring and crackling. The heat was unbearable, with Sigrún at once taking notice of how Wolffish began to sweat and pant like a tongue, his tongue lolling out a little, while Thorgils tore at the furs about his own large shoulders. The few patrons that were present, dark in mien and pale of flesh eyed them all with dark, mistrustful gazes, their drinking horns raised to their lips. There was about a dozen people assembled, most of whom were middle-aged men, heavily bearded with deep lines set into their brows, an implication of how difficult their lives had been over the years.
Having crossed through this very area many months before with Helgi and his company, and also several other times over the years, it happened that the young maid was hardly familiar with it. Always Helgi and Sigdis, and also their Hersirs and other warriors and household servants had insisted that they either take a different route, or carry on through the area, never wishing to stay at this particular tavern. Quite why this was, was a mystery to Sigrún yet she had the suspicion after a single sweep of the small hall with her eyes that there might be legitimate reasons for why Helgi had done so.
Near the entrance, there was a stall and bar, where Thorgils stood waiting them with the most surly looking Tigrun that Sigrún had ever set eyes upon. Such was the displeasure exhibited by the bar-man that Sigrún was to feel a wave of gratitude for the presence of Wolffish, and Auðun, as the two of them seemed rather undaunted by the man's displeasure.
Large, with a barrel chest, and covered in a thick coat of orange fur along with a thick mane of dark greying hair and a beard the same colour, his feline eyes tracked their every movement from where he stood behind the bar. A collection of drinking horns before him, he cleaned at one with a rancid looking cloth, and the edge of his tunic sleeve, a frown of displeasure on his face.
The wild and feral air that clung to him, was one that Thorgils paid little heed to, as he smiled if rather forcedly at them, "We have been given a pair of rooms on the second floor, directly across from one another. Father, you shall stay with Auðun, and Thormundr while Wolffish, Sigrún and I shall share another."
The arrangements thus in order, Sigrún was to stumble up the steps eager to find sleep, her head throbbing even as her muscles were all filled to the brim with weariness. The time below ground had also left her eyelids heavy and a strong sense of haziness about her memories just before she had been possessed by the spirit of Sigfrøðr.
It took her only a glance to notice that Auðun was in a similarly exhausted way, though with regards to his condition he seemed to at the least be trying to put on a brave face. His attempt to seem stronger, more in control of himself as he aided an as always irritated Thormundr won from her, a certain amount of respect.
It was as they reached the two rooms that, Thormundr at last turned on them. Nowhere near as wearied as the pair who had left ahead of the rest of them, he was to with a brief glance in the direction of the father and son by his side, along with the Wolffish remark. "It happens that we must now discuss what came about after thy departure, from Heiðrrán and how it happened that the two of you were possessed by two such spirits rather than, slain by them."
The implication was that they ought to have known about the spirits that haunted the Burrowwoods, and that they had brought about only trouble and sorrow for those who had followed them thither into the woods. It happened that this implication was not lost on either of them, with Auðun throwing her a pointed glance, one that made her harrumph if ever so slightly. She wished she could have struck him then, but it would only have made him snigger and become even more persuaded of the rectitude of those around her.
The question of why she had fled from the village, was posed not by Thormundr though, or Guðleifr but Thorgils who was to question, "By all the gods, what possessed either of you, to depart in so hurried a manner? This was reckless beyond measure, and shows a great lacking in wisdom on both thy parts!"
It was with a shame-faced bow of his head that Auðun was to admit defeat to him, and his Master whom he could not meet the gaze of. The older sorcerer though, had an impassive expression on his face.
It fell therefore onto Sigrún to defend her decision by exclaiming, "I felt I had to leave, for it seemed evident to me that I had to pursue this matter."
"Sigrún, this matter cost old Helgi his life!" Guðleifr snapped furiously.
"That is the exact reason, why I must investigate it and see to it that he is properly avenged!"
"What nonsense, who are you to pursue vengeance? Helgi was no kin to you!"
"Guðleifr she was fostered by old Helgi, mayhap that is not the wisest thing you have uttered in thy life," Thormundr remarked quietly coming to the defence of Sigrún as always.
It was Thorgils who added with a good measure of discomfort, "Father, Helgi was every bit kin to her that you and myself are, and if ever there was a man who merited justice, it was he and his people."
"Yes, but vengeance has already been achieved!" Guðleifr snapped irritably at his son.
"Has it? Has it truly been achieved? What of the phantom rider who rode through the town of Heiðrrán?" Auðun now questioned, as he thought it over at some length before them, his manner both contemplative and resolved at once. "If I may, it seems to me that from the night Thorgils chose not to burn the map, our path was set though we may not quite like to admit such."
His words had the immediate result of making Guðleifr's face almost purple with rage, with his stepdaughter able to see that he had no intention to humour them. In his youth, he might have considered the views of others especially where such a quest was concerned. But as with a great many elders, and also those of middle-age, he had come to forget his own youth and the fierce connection they felt to their kindred, their outrage at injustice.
This disconnect is one that many an elders and middle-aged men and women can attest to in their actions and most foolish of words, as Wolffish was to wisely remark at a later date. It was one that the worldly sold as pragmatism, but in reality is defeatism, as all people who have not given way to conceit know.
Full of his own conceit, Guðleifr opened his mouth to rage at the youths, when Wolffish who was nearest to the stairs behind them was to state. "I do not think this is the most appropriate place to discuss such things."
"Quite right, let us enter one of the rooms, and discuss this somewhere where our voices will not echo to unwanted ears," Thormundr agreed with Wolffish at once, perhaps for the first time since the beginning of their journey.
Under other circumstances this might well have resulted in everyone gawping at the old sorcerer in shock, for how he had just agreed wholeheartedly with the Wolffram. However, at present neither of them drew much more than a slow blink and moment of surprise, before Thorgils drew the majority of their group into the nearby room to the left.
Before he moved to join them, the blond man asked of his friend, who remained where he was, "What is it Wolffish? Will you not join us?"
"No, I had thought to find myself something to eat and drink, then to sleep," Wolffish replied with a shrug of his shoulders, visibly discomfited by the idea for some reason. "This seems a family matter and one that I can be informed of, in its entirety at a later time."
Thorgils would have very much liked to protest against the notion that it was a family matter, or that Wolffish had no place there amongst them, however with a glance back at the miserable and angry expressions of the rest of their troupe he reconsidered. It was with a start that the warrior realised how it must appear to the fisherman; all of them seeking to discipline the pair who had run off before them.
Stricken all of a sudden with the fierce desire to drink and find something to eat, to sooth his suddenly growling stomach, he was to shake his head and say. "Enjoy the meal and drink Wolffish, I must say that I do envy you at this time."
"Enjoy berating the two of them, and remember this, my friend; I suspect that we might all have done as they have, were it your father or my mother who had been slain." Wolffish replied almost sternly.
Leave it to Wolffish, Thorgils thought to himself to ensure that he had the last word on the matter, and for it to be one in favour of filial piety. Ever the pious son, and the unflinchingly dedicated fisherman, it should not have surprised him half so much that the canine would defend Sigrún at this time. It was he after all, who had charged first against the Collubars ahead of all others, he told himself after several seconds of contemplation.
Entering the room to the left, to find that it was a bare room with a duo of bedrolls laid out above a pile of ill-kept hay and a single small table to the left hand side of the room, with a pair of chairs to either side of it, he almost let out a groan. The chairs were already occupied by the likes of Thormundr, who had been ushered onto it by his apprentice, while Sigrún took up the second one. Thorgils at that moment might well have killed for one of those chairs, such was his longing for a place to seat himself after a hard day's riding, and after nearly dying to a handful of spectres.
"Now we will speak of the folly of this quest that you have taken upon yourselves," Guðleifr growled at them as he paced the length and breadth of the small three meter long and five meter wide room.
Another groan was very nearly torn from the throat of Thorgils, just as it was a very near affair for Sigrún, who being tired had little desire for anything other than sleep. So that she was to wrap herself all the more in her fur-cloak, shivering as she did as much from the chill that gripped the bedchambers as from her memories.
Most of the men looked on with compassion. All save for Guðleifr, who was utterly without pity for the young girl, and for the equally weary Auðun. The young man had started a fire in the chimney near to the table (to the left hand side of the room). Doing so with two pieces of flint, he laid the stones aside in order to rub his hands near to them in an attempt to restore circulation, all while Sigrún and Thormundr looked on him with gratitude.
Before Auðun could propose that it might be best to discuss their journey in the morning, Sigrún threw herself into her tale, able to sense that neither of the older men present might relent. "If you must know, Guðleifr I was resolved to return to Helgi's keep. This was because of my desire to report to Helgi what had become of his grandfather, and to investigate the mystery surrounding the map."
"An impulsive notion," Guðleifr might have said more, yet Thormundr pierced with a dark glower from beneath bushy eyebrows.
"Let the girl speak Guðleifr, for the love of all the gods you have already made it evident to all thy thoughts on the matter." The exasperation in the old man's voice almost pulled another snapped remark from the warrior when Auðun ever the mediator intervened also.
"I myself gave chase to attempt to convince Sigrún to turn back, lest she find herself in far worse trouble than even she might suspect. The murder of Ragna was foremost in my mind, so that I stole away with the first horse I could find that of Gyða. I rode after Sigrún, finding her a little ways near where the Burrows can be found. It was there that I was to attempt to dissuade her from continuing along on her journey. 'To continue along whither to Smaragdborg, alone is folly, Sigrún.' Yet she would not abide by my entreaties, even as I told her how reckless she was for having set out alone."
Sigrún took up the story, corroborating all that her oldest friend had said, by adding when she saw the sceptical expression on the face of her stepfather. "It is true, stepfather; Auðun followed me in an attempt to persuade me to turn back, even going so far as to remind me of my mother's affection for me. I still think it right and honourable to continue on, and the reason as I explained it to him then, I think holds still; you may not believe me however those who hunt after the map I suspect have not stopped attempting to do so. Though, the Collubar are gone the rider in the night who has disturbed time and again, the rest of those within the village I suspected, as I told Auðun had come in search of the map. It was my desire to consult with Helgi, and those I know to the east such as Völmung, Auðun would not however listen at first. After some time though, there was a noise that startled us from our argument, which had grown quite heated.
You see, while we had been distracted brigands had snuck up on the two of us, startling us with Auðun preparing some of his magic to shield us. He was however not swift enough, and reacted too slowly, as the brigands slung a stone to the side of his head so that he fell to one side. It was thereupon a slight rise in the midst of the forest that I was seized, being most unarmed and worried for Auðun, and seeing how they had the element of surprise I was soon taken. Though, if I may say so, this would not have been the situation, had I my spear in hand and they had been less numerous!"
"Do carry on with the story," Thormundr grunted impatiently, speaking for all of them.
"Agreed, at this pace we will not reach how you found yourself possessed until well into next winter solstice." Thorgils added with no less irritation.
Annoyed by their interruptions, Sigrún did as bidden her cheeks flushing scarlet, yet visibly biting her tongue she hurried along with her tale. "The brigands who seized a hold of us were well-armed, most wore patched and varied pieces of armour, but mostly fur-cloaks and clothes. In all they were a fairly ragged group of wretches, yet they were nonetheless fearless and formidable. It happened that at their head, was a man with dark tawny hair on his head that ran down to his back, and a long beard down to the upper part of his chest. Dressed in chainmail and a hauberk, his was the most formidable of all the men gathered together in yon woods. He was as tall as Thorgils, though his eyes were brown and flashed with the fury of a caged beast, as his men dragged us before him.
He it was who held the sling with which the stone had been cast against poor Auðun, and he who had hung back amongst the trees to observe as his men gathered us up from the middle of clearing we had found ourselves in. Our horses might well have taken fright and abandoned us thereon the road to Estvian, were it not for the bandits catching them up by the reins and dragging them thither to their chief. Seeing the strength and size of them, the dark eyes of their chieftain became alight with greed and appreciation, wherefore he turned to us with gloating eyes.
'The two of you have entered my woods,' He said with something of a haughty air about him, whereupon he was to ask of us. 'I know you young lady, you are the foster-daughter of the Jarl Helgi, my men and I saw the procession through our woods.'
It was at this time that outraged by his choice in words, I was to snap, 'These are the woods of Jarl Helgi, not lowly slime such as thyselves!'
They might well have slapped me, were it not for their leader sneering back, upper lip twitching with anger and with his eyes flashing as he said quietly. 'Milady, I would speak with greater care if I were thee, for you find yourself at present the prisoners of Estvian and the Burrow-Thieves.'
Truth was that I had never heard tell of these men, who were to take me up along with Auðun, wherefore they brought us deeper into the woods back some ways. This in spite of the many myriad of curses that were uttered against them, and as I kicked and made myself as beastly a nuisance as one could hope to be… all to no avail."
"One of their numbers was to complain of how she had bitten him some four times, as he carried her along to their encampment," Auðun said with some mirth to the exasperation of his friend.
"Do be quiet about that, and I was entirely and completely justified as they were brigands of the worst kind." Sigrún snapped at him, once more annoyed by him.
Hardly pleased by how lightly the youth was taking their previous capture by the brigands, Guðleifr was to growl at him, "How can you speak so lightly of thy capture by such a scurrilous group? I had heard tell of brigands inhabiting the Burrowwoods, and here you are Auðun jesting and teasing Sigrún about this matter, when she and her virtue were at risk!"
"Yet neither her virtue, nor her life was at risk," Auðun retorted with utter confidence, "The brigands for all their cunning and stealth had made a grievous mistake. One that the lady Sigrún had likewise overlooked in her retelling of the events that took place at that time, in the woods we have by this time left firmly behind. They had left my staff, which had been on my horse as I had attached it to it and then removed it so that I might cast a spell only to be interrupted by the stone to my head. Unaware that I had awoken not long after having fallen from my horse, I held firm to it as I had been trained to do, and was to hold it tightly throughout the journey through the woods to their encampment.
Once there, they burst into song, singing with glad hearts and merry voices (that were far finer than one might have otherwise expected from such rapscallions).
'O home at last, o sweet home,
Trod on home,
We have a short ways thither to go,
Let us sing now, and dance lo!
We be home at last, o sweet home!
Well rob'd and well fed
Art we, the pheasant we wert fed,
And a scallion or three we rob'd,
We gallop'd in the worst fields,
This after we have pull'd the finest yields
From the deepest of pockets we rob'd,
Trod on home,
Now we be home to drink mead aplenty!
O home at last, o sweet home,'
The song as you might imagine set each of them in the very best of moods, with the brigands whistling and continuing to carry the tune as they carried us along with our hands bound together. Sigrún for her part had been tossed over the shoulder of one of the more muscular men, one who was without armour, and who had the long grey hair and grey beard of an older man. His hands and even his ear might well have been in danger, had they not gagged Sigrún part of the way through the journey to their camp."
"Filthy bandits," Sigrún muttered to herself.
Thorgils was to ask just before Auðun continued on with his story, "Why did they choose to bring the two of you, to their camp in the first place? They could have simply slain you where they had found you."
"I was about to explain that part," Auðun grunted showing the first signs of losing patience in return with his audience.
"Then do cease tarrying, with your story Auðun," Thormundr hissed from where he sat by the fire having pulled his seat nearer to it, whilst Auðun had been busy with his story.
Shooting his Master a dark look, before he sighed, Auðun did at last as requested, "The camp was a simple thing with tents made of wolf-fur in a large clearing in the northernmost reaches of the forest. It was in this clearing that they had carved for themselves a home, one where to our amazement there was mayhaps between thirty and thirty-five women along with a number of children that we could at once discern to be those of the bandits."
"They had children? And their wives with them?" This time it was Guðleifr who interrupted him, exclaiming in surprise.
"Yes and no less surprised than you are now, Guðleifr we stared in open-mouthed astonishment and were to ask them how they had come to live therein the forest. In response their leader, was to find himself a place to sit by one of the campfires and said to us, 'They are our wives and children because they like we men, were driven from our lands to the north of here.'
'Driven from what lands? Who are you people? To what clan or village did you once belong to?' I was to ask of them, much to the amusement of their chief.
'It was some four years prior when the new Jarl of Njarla succeeded to his father's position, I was one of his Hersir you see, I was cast out you see, because I would not bend the knee to the son. A number of the men and women you see in this camp are from the village of Svargrön just to the south of Njarla. He ordered them to be massacred, when they failed to pay their taxes I warned them and after a number of their men were lost in the ensuing battle, we were pushed south. It is for this reason we came to lead a life of banditry herein the lands of Jarl Helgi, taking only what we need to survive, and otherwise harrying the northern lands for their food.'
'I am sorry for your suffering, truly I am,' Sigrún said much to her credit, wherefore she added, 'However these are not your lands and if you truly wish to wage war with Njarla I would recommend that you seek out the Jarl of Smaragdborg himself.'
'Seek to war with Njarla? For what, dear lady? What could we possibly gain, by doing so? T'would be foolish in the extreme to engage in so perilous an affair,' Hallbjǫrn retorted with a sneer in her direction. 'What we wish for, is a ransom!'
'A ransom?'
'Yes, it is the sole reason we have not slain you or thy protector,' Hallbjǫrn snapped haughtily as though he were some noblewoman, holding himself up with a proud air about him. 'It happens that you dear lady are the foster-daughter of old Helgi, a Jarl we hold in the highest esteem. One whom is far wealthier than his northern neighbour and whom would pay a fortune for the return of his dearly, beloved foster-daughter.'
Her mind reeled at the revelation that he knew all about her, and it was as he spoke to her and she sought to answer quietly, her grief evident in her voice and in her eyes as she spoke that I worked my art. You see, while they had concentrated the greater part of their focus on Sigrún, I myself had escaped the majority of their attention since none of them were all too familiar with the nature of magic.
They believed that with my hands tied and given that I had been struck hard to the side of my head I was too discombobulated to weave together, my art. Yet, much as my skull throbbed it happened that I could still usher forth into this world, magic as those criminals had never seen before, and could never imagine.
It just so happened that at the same time that my magic began to enter into this world that the first of those spectres appeared. They flitted into the encampment slowly, doing so under shadow just as a strange fog of some sort began to roll in.
At first none noticed this, and then with time more and more people took notice, whereupon they began to murmur and moan with fear the more time passed. The thicker the fog, the more stagnant their unity and sense of shared affection for one another became. It was as the first woman dropped dead to one side that at last the shades made their presence known.
'Gylla!' Shouted one man, his heart torn asunder as he sought to cling to his wife.
To another side another woman dropped dead, then a man did at which time a great panic overtook the brigands with their leader Hallbjǫrn interrupted mid-speech by some of his people. 'Hallbjǫrn!' they shouted, 'Do something!'
But there was little he could do, as they stampeded out from the camp. The shades for their part were drawn to them, and struck a great many of them dead even as they made their way hither towards us. Unwilling to abandon my side, Sigrún clung to me even as I sought to ward off these monstrous apparitions, at which time one of their numbers held up a single finger towards me.
The last thing I recall was its cold hand touching my forehead and a great burning sensation overcoming my skull thence everything fell into darkness…"
"It was the same for myself," Sigrún admitted as she added as she shuddered, "Then the next thing we knew we were in the barrow-tomb interior facing Thormundr."
The tale told, it was some time, before either Thormundr or Guðleifr spoke up. Neither of them seemed willing to break the silence, both their eyes were drawn if somewhat slowly and rather more meekly than expected, to the flames deep within the chimney.
Both of them were rather disturbed by the tale, of how the two youths had been captured, attacked then possessed. The mention of some phantom rider had disturbed Thormundr in particular, Thorgils had noticed.
It thus fell upon him, to recount to the two of them, the story that Thormundr had told them. As they listened to the story, there was respect that burgeoned on admiration in the eyes of Auðun, when he looked on his teacher. Sigrún for her part was no less disturbed by it, and was to stare in astonishment the more the story went on, until at last she gaped as he finished recounting how Franir had betrayed Thormundr and ordered Stálvǫrðr to execute him.
"It is a wonder that you survived, Master Thormundr!" She was to exclaim with visible and very feminine concern for him, "I do hope you have begun to recover from thy injuries!"
"Yes, you really ought to have stayed in Heiðrrán, Master!" Auðun agreed at once, to the displeasure of his Master.
"To do what? Rest and wait for Franir's assassins, while you and Sigrún gallivanted all throughout the land? Someone had to rescue the two of you from thy madness," Thormundr snapped more than a hint of impatience in his voice.
None dared defend the younger sorcerer; all knew he had made a mistake in following Sigrún, even the man himself. The apprentice though was to open his mouth several times with the intention of defending her honour, yet could not deny the madness that had overtaken the two of them.
Thorgils had the suspicion that there was more to the tale, than any of them were being told yet did not press the matter. Why should he? It was clear to him that Sigrún was exhausted, despite her brave front while Auðun refused to speak out of respect for Sigrún.
What they could not have suspected was that Hallbjǫrn the bandit had also spoken of a desire for vengeance against Njarla. And what was more was that he in part blamed Helgi for what had transpired in the north, something that might well have served to offend both of the eldest men present. This was later to be admitted to Thorgils in private that very night by a wearied Auðun just before he scurried off thither to find his own rest in one of the two rooms they had reserved.
It was as Thormundr and Guðleifr withdrew to the other room to discuss the matter of what to do with the youths that Auðun first approached him to talk in private.
"Thorgils, if I may," he said a hint of nervousness in his voice, "There is another thing we did not mention about what happened in the forest just before the attack of those shades."
"And what was that?"
"A very good reason that we may have to proceed to Smaragdborg to the east," Auðun informed him a hint of apprehension and shyness in his voice.
"What? Speak plainly, Auðun," Thorgils hissed at his friend who sighed, before he expanded upon what it was that he had hidden from the elder two. Once this was accomplished, he was to exclaim in surprise, "You ought to have explained this last detail to them!"
"How could we? They are resolved to bring us back to Heiðrrán," Sigrún replied at once, dozing off ever so slightly, wherefore she told them. "Speak of this elsewhere, for I have grown weary and would rest now."
Feeling guilty, Thorgils was to sigh in frustration and agree to this condition that is until he saw the dark rings under Auðun's own eyes and decide to show a little pity. Deciding to speak with his father and Thormundr on this matter in the morn', he was to bid his friend a good night, leaving the room he made for the main floor.
Eager for a drink to soothe his parched throat, he was however to come to a sudden stop as Wolffish returned inside from outside. Surprised that his friend had been outdoors, he was to stare as the Wolfram noticed him and grunted. "At last, I have found the whelp! I knew someone had been trailing us since Heiðrrán! Now we really must turn back!"
"Calm down, and let us speak over here," Thorgils said from where he stood by the stairs, confused by his friend's exclamation that is until he set eyes on the one whom his friend was carrying in one hand.
Astonished he was to stare in alarm, as he set eyes on his youngest sister, Myrgjǫl who kicked about and complained loudly, "Put me down, this very instant you filthy knave Wolffish!"
Thorgils stared from his friend to the girl, to the nearby equally startled bartender, at which time hearing the voice of his father at the top of the stairs, he felt his stomach plummet down into the depths of the lands of Hella.