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Still musing on Redbeard's cryptic prophecy you elect to take a stroll before returning down the hill. There is a clear flowing beck not far from where you presently stand, the waters cascading down from the icy reaches of the mounts higher up, and there you might refresh yourself. Along the way you collect lingonberries and sweet bilberries growing in the scattered bushes amid the rocks. They are hardly enough for the fanciful purposes that the kitchen thralls might put them to, but are good to munch on as you progress through the gathering density of pine and spruce.
What could it mean that you could play a part in the proceedings of the Thing? Redbeard's participation, strange or improper as it might be, is an entirely different proposition from your own. A thrall, no matter his talents or intimacy, is still a thrall. He cannot impose himself upon an assembly of freemen, except in the services which his bondage demand. Excitement is still more remote a possibility. The Things you've eavesdropped on in all your seven years were staid, dull affairs, full of somnolent accounts and dreary figures. Occasionally one or another clan might present a dispute, over land or dowries or debts, and very rarely their representatives got heated enough to shout, though never so bold as to rise to blows, for whatever the severity of their grievances, those always seemed beneath the respect they not only owed, but felt lucky to confer, upon the Chieftain. The Chieftain's rulings on these matters were always just and fair, which motivated this regard. He ensured all parties always came away feeling whole, sometimes even at his own expense. Yet, you have also sensed a certain fear of his displeasure which was possibly even more potent. One too trembling to have the thought of mere exile for its origin.
Come to think of it, there was one time that you were involved in a Thing: when you were first indentured into the house of the Chieftain. But it's equivalent, freedom from that enthrallment, is much too soon to be hoped for on this occasion. There are still a few years to go before the debt is paid. No, however, you turn it, you cannot decipher the riddle.
But having surrendered one conundrum, you immediately find yourself in another, more perilous one.
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