Word came to Thegn Osgar – called Lytelman – as he sat in his hall in Gefnhame, that a force of wights were mustering on his western borders. Tossing aside his mead-horn he summons men and horses forthwith – though the sun was already setting upon the grey, foggy Winterfell day – to ride forth to ward his folk from harm and meet his foe in the field. In truth, his men were few for many of his warriors were elsewhere and a force needs must be left to defend Gefnhame. So it was with just three companions – Wistan Wulfinga, Svipdag the Sweon, recently sworn to Osgar’s service, and the outlander freedman, Talorc – he set off into the night.
The going was heavy for the night was dark and the horses must needs be ridden carefully lest they miss their footing in the dark. Constantly they were on their guard lest they were ambushed by rieving pukels or sneaking merefolk. However, there are other enemies of man who stalk the land at Winterfell and as the night wore on towards its middle, from the ground rose two deadly lichs brandishing their ancient, rusting, but sharp-enough blades. Their ghastly appearance threw the steeds into a panic and both Svipdag and Wistan were borne away. Lytelman’s beast reared and threw him to the ground and things looked grim as he battled both grave-wights while on his knees. Luckily Talorc had been keeping station a little to the rear and managed to rein his horse in, dismount and rush to the Thegn’s aid, and though his blades would not bite upon their grave-stinking flesh he was able to thwart their blows upon his hlafod by wrestling the weapon arm of one of the the gruesome hell-spawn. Lytelman regained his feet and laid about him with his rune-sharp saex until whatever Hellish force gave them strength could no longer force their severed bones and sinew to its will.
There was a short pause while Wistan and Svipdag gathered the horses and a swift search was made of the lichs for silver – of which there was some. Then the Geats pushed on into the night. At length they spied the lights of Saebeorhtstead and rode in, having delayed to blow horns and announce themselves. It was as well they did for the place was in an uproar and arrows and slingshots might have been the reward of a surprise guest. It seems a rider had just arrived from the Tondberhtings warning of a large force of Pukels with a Thurse in the vicinity and seeking aid.
The Saeberhtings were heartily glad for the appearance, unheralded, of their hlafod (though some muttered at the smallness of his force) and looked to him for his word on the matter. Many redes were offered but it was clear that the Saeberhtings were reluctant to leave their own stead, in the dark, while it was uncertain which steading the wights sought to assault. Should the wights fall on them and all their warriors away, it would go ill with their womenfolk and any left to defend their hall. At length Lytelman decided to ride himself for Tondberhtstead, see how the land lay, and perhaps return with word or with the Tondberhtings if it transpired that the Pukels had passed them by.
So once more the thegn of Gefnhame set forth into the dark of the Winterfell night with a small band of gesiths. With them came Leofdag, the young Tondberhting messenger, as their guide. Saefrith Saeberhtson also rode with them, muttering darkly that someone at least of his family should go lest men say that the Saeberhtings refused aid to their neighbours when called upon.
Sometime after, when the party were nearing the half way point between the two steadings, Leofdag who was in the lead suddenly held up his hand for them to halt. Swiftly he took counsel with the Thegn, saying that he had a rune amulet that warned of wights ahead close by. Leaving them there awaiting his word, the lad who had only his travel clothes and a scramasax snaked forward through a clump of gorse, returning to say there was a force of Pukels and a Thurse ahead. It seemed likely they were headed for Saeberhtstead after all, unless they intended to pass by there too and go on to Gefnhame. If the former the likeliest route they would take was the one they had just taken themselves. If the latter they would not reach Gefnhame before dawn and the Saeberhtings could muster and harry them en route.
Though they were but five and were facing well over a score of Pukels and a Thurse, the Geatish heroes decided that their best course was to meet them in ambush upon their march. So, with Leofdag’s help, they selected some good ground for ambush and lay in wait. Their horses they left picketed a way behind so that if they were overwhelmed someone might be able to get back to the steading to tell of their fates and warn them of what was to come.
They had not long to wait for over a slight fold in the ground came the pukel vanguard – perhaps a dozen pukelings led by several pukelmen – and all of a sudden battle was engaged. The Geats chose to fight in open order amongst the rocks and bushes rather than form a shieldwall. The fight that ensued was swift and bloody as Svipdag, Lytelman and Talorc fell upon the flanks of their foes while Wistan and the stalwart Saefrith linked shields and held a centre of sorts. Leofdag, who had refused all suggestions of staying with the horses, revealed himself as a Thunor priest by screaming his Galdor-runes and surrounding himself with a glamour that clearly dismayed the pukels and burned them when they tried to pierce it. Just as the Geats began to gain the upper hand there was a bellow as the Thurse arrived into the fray, outstripping the main body of larger Pukels. He was met head on by Lytelman and Svipdag who held it at bay with some mighty blows. Then Leofdag joined them, throwing himself upon the Thurse, burning him with his flaming blue glamour and stabbing with his saex. Unequal to the Geatish skill and bravery the monster crashed to the ground, just as the main group of larger and better armed Pukels arrived. But the Gods were with the Geats that day for the Pukel leader was laid low by two keenly aimed francas from Svipdag and his guards were caught in two minds between bearing him away and defending themselves. In the end, they succeeded in neither as the vengeful Geats fell upon them. Those that did not flee ended their lives in the dirt at the feet of their lord.
As dawn broke, the Geats found themselves masters of the field and set about stripping the bodies of their valuables, finding a surprising quantity of silver with which to fill the thegn’s gifting chest and much else besides.
Lytelman’s Lay