So there they ordered all matters duly for that present time, and by then they had made an end, it was past sunset, and men were lodged in the chief houses about the Market-stead.
Albeit, though they ate their meat with all joy of heart, and were merry in converse one with the other, the men of the Wolf would by no means feast in their Hall again till it had been cleansed and hallowed anew.
CHAPTER LI. THE DEAD BORNE TO BALE: THE MOTE-HOUSE RE-HALLOWED
On the morrow they bore to bale their slain men, and there withal what was left of the bodies of the four chieftains of the Great Undoing. They brought them into a most fair meadow to the west of Silver-stead, where they had piled up a very great bale for the burning. In that meadow was the Doom-ring and Thing-stead of the Folk of the Wolf, and they had hallowed it when they had first conquered Silver-dale, and it was deemed far holier than the Mote- house aforesaid, wherein the men of the kindred might hold no due court; but rather it was a Feast-hall, and a house where men had converse together, and wherein precious things and tokens of the Fathers were stored up.
The Thing-stead in the meadow was flowery and well-gra.s.sed, and a little stream winding about thereby nearly cast a ring around it; and beyond the stream was a full fair grove of oak-trees, very tall and ancient. There then they burned the dead of the Host, wrapped about in exceeding fair raiment. And when the ashes were gathered, the men of Burgdale and the Shepherds left those of their folk for the kindred to bury there in Silver-dale; for they said that they had a right to claim such guesting for them that had helped to win back the Dale.
But when the Burning was done and the bale quenched, and the ashes gathered and buried (and that was on the morrow), then men bore forth the Banners of the Jaws of the Wolf, and the Red Hand, and the Silver Arm, and the Golden Bushel, and the Ragged Sword, and the Wolf of the Woodland; and with great joy and triumph they brought them into the Mote-house and hung them up over the dais; and they kindled fire on the Holy Hearth by holding up a disk of bright gla.s.s to the sun; and then they sang before the banners. And this is somewhat of the song that they sang before them:
Why are ye wending? O whence and whither?
What shineth over the fallow swords?
What is the joy that ye bear in hither?
What is the tale of your blended words?
No whither we wend, but here have we stayed us, Here by the ancient Holy Hearth; Long have the moons and the years delayed us, But here are we come from the heart of the dearth.
We are the men of joy belated; We are the wanderers over the waste; We are but they that sat and waited, Watching the empty winds make haste.
Long, long we sat and knew no others, Save alien folk and the foes of the road; Till late and at last we met our brothers, And needs must we to the old abode.
For once on a day they prayed for guesting; And how were we then their bede to do?
Wild was the waste for the people"s resting, And deep the wealth of the Dale we knew.
Here were the boards that we must spread them Down in the fruitful Dale and dear; Here were the halls where we would bed them: And how should we tarry otherwhere?
Over the waste we came together: There was the tangle athwart the way; There was the wind-storm and the weather; The red rain darkened down the day.
But that day of the days what grief should let us, When we saw through the clouds the dale-glad sun?
We tore at the tangle that beset us, And stood at peace when the day was done.
Hall of the Happy, take our greeting!
Bid thou the Fathers come and see The Folk-signs on thy walls a-meeting, And deem to-day what men we be.
Look on the Holy Hearth new-litten, How the sparks fly twinkling up aloof!
How the wavering smoke by the sunlight smitten, Curls up around the beam-rich roof!
For here once more is the Wolf abiding, Nor ever more from the Dale shall wend, And never again his head be hiding, Till all days be dark and the world have end.
CHAPTER LII. OF THE NEW BEGINNING OF GOOD DAYS IN SILVER-DALE
On the third day there was high-tide and great joy amongst all men from end to end of the Dale; and the delivered thralls were feasted and made much of by the kindreds, so that they scarce knew how to believe their own five senses that told them the good tidings.
For none strove to grieve them and torment them; what they would, that did they, and they had all things plenteously; since for all was there enough and to spare of goods stored up for the Dusky Men, as corn and wine and oil and spices, and raiment and silver. Horses were there also, and neat and sheep and swine in abundance. Withal there was the good and dear land; the waxing corn on the acres; the blossoming vines on the hillside; and about the orchards and alongside the ways, the plum-trees and cherry-trees and pear-trees that had cast their blossom and were overhung with little young fruit; and the fair apple-trees a-blossoming, and the chestnuts spreading their boughs from their twisted trunks over the green gra.s.s. And there was the goodly pasture for the horses and the neat, and the thymy hill-gra.s.s for the sheep; and beyond it all, the thicket of the great wood, with its unfailing store of goodly timber of ash and oak and holly and yoke-elm. There need no man lack unless man compelled him, and all was rich enough and wide enough for the waxing of a very great folk.
Now, therefore, men betook them to what was their own before the coming of the Dusky Men; and though at first many of the delivered thrall-folk feasted somewhat above measure, and though there were some of them who were not very brisk at working on the earth for their livelihood; yet were the most part of them quick of wit and deft of hand, and they mostly fell to presently at their cunning, both of husbandry and handicraft. Moreover, they had great love of the kindreds, and especially of the Woodlanders, and strove to do all things that might pleasure them. And as for those who were dull and listless because of their many torments of the last ten years, they would at least fetch and carry willingly for them of the kindreds; and these last grudged them not meat and raiment and house-room, even if they wrought but little for it, because they called to mind the evil days of their thralldom, and bethought them how few are men"s days upon the earth.
Thus all things throve in Silver-dale, and the days wore on toward the summer, and the Yule-tide rest beyond it, and the years beyond and far beyond the winning of Silver-dale.
CHAPTER LIII. OF THE WORD WHICH HALL-WARD OF THE STEER HAD FOR FOLK- MIGHT
But of the time then pa.s.sing, it is to be said that the whole host abode in Silver-dale in great mirth and good liking, till they should hear tidings of Dallach and his company, who had followed hot-foot on the fleers of the Dusky Men. And on the tenth day after the battle, Iron-face and his two sons and Stone-face were sitting about sunset under a great oak-tree by that stream-side which ran through the Mote-stead; there also was Folk-might, somewhat distraught because of his love for the Bride, who was now mending of her hurts. As they sat there in all content they saw folk coming toward them, three in number, and as they drew nigher they saw that it was old Hall-ward of the Steer, and the Sun-beam and Bow-may following him hand in hand.
When they came to the brook Bow-may ran up to the elder to help him over the stepping-stones; which she did as one who loved him, as the old man was stark enough to have waded the water waist-deep. She was no longer in her war-gear, but was clad after her wont of Shadowy Vale, in nought but a white woollen kirtle. So she stood in the stream beside the stones, and let the swift water ripple up over her ankles, while the elder leaned on her shoulder and looked down upon her kindly. The Sun-beam followed after them, stepping daintily from stone to stone, so that she was a fair sight to see; her face was smiling and happy, and as she stepped forth on to the green gra.s.s the colour flushed up in it, but she cast her eyes adown as one somewhat shamefaced.
So the chieftains rose up before the leader of the Steer, and Folk- might went up to him, and greeted him, and took his hand and kissed him on the cheek. And Hall-ward said:
"Hail to the chiefs of the kindred, and my earthly friends!"
Then Folk-might bade him sit down by him, and all the men sat down again; but the Sun-beam leaned her back against a sapling ash hard by, her feet set close together; and Bow-may went to and fro in short turns, keeping well within ear-shot.
Then said Hall-ward: "Folk-might, I have prayed thy kinswoman Bow- may to lead me to thee, that I might speak with thee; and it is good that I find my kinsmen of the Face in thy company; for I would say a word to thee that concerns them somewhat."
Said Folk-might: "Guest, and warrior of the Steer, thy words are ever good; and if this time thou comest to ask aught of me, then shall they be better than good."
Said Hall-ward: "Tell me, Folk-might, hast thou seen my daughter the Bride to-day?"
"Yea," said Folk-might, reddening.
"What didst thou deem of her state?" said Hall-ward.
Said Folk-might: "Thou knowest thyself that the fever hath left her, and that she is mending."
Hall-ward said: "In a few days belike we shall be wending home to Burgdale: when deemest thou that the Bride may travel, if it were but on a litter?"
Folk-might was silent, and Hall-ward smiled on him and said:
"Wouldst thou have her tarry, O chief of the Wolf?"
"So it is," said Folk-might, "that it might be labour lost for her to journey to Burgdale at present."
"Thinkest thou?" said Hall-ward; "hast thou a mind then that if she goeth she shall speedily come back hither?"
"It has been in my mind," said Folk-might, "that I should wed her.