It is early in the month of Aerra Geola and Aetheling Wistan and his fellow West Geat Tohrwulf, decide to take advantage of the unseasonally mild weather to go a hunting. For though winter should be in full swing and the snow thick on the ground, in fact it still lies but ankle-deep and the noonday sun barely sustains it so balmy are the days. They set off eastwards from Gefnhame accompanied by the tattooed Talorc – Nothgyth being keen to have him out from under her feet.
It seems that their path led them through the woods to the point on the Gefnwash where they had followed a bear and encountered a nihtagenga earlier in the year. Studying the banks they could see pukelmen tracks all about and surmised that the cave once occupied by the nihtagenga and its pet was now taken by wights. It being late in the short Aerra Geola day they decide to camp nearby, huddling by a fire in the lee of a small rise, and investigate more fully the following morning.
They came in the dark of the night. Tohrwulf was on watch and they tried to take him unawares, jumping upon his back from atop the rise behind him, but their attack was ill-coordinated and though he found himself swiftly beset by many enemies he was able to give the alarm to his comrades who rose to defend themselves from the wightish rush. The fight was sharp and bloody but at length the pukel hordes fled, leaving many of their cooling corses upon the forest floor. Amongst them was their chief, who carried an interesting looking amulet in the shape of an oak leaf that Wistan awarded to Tohrwulf for his alertness and valour.
The rest of the night passed without disturbance and in the morning the three went to the river crossing, thinking to pursue the pukels to their den and dispatch the last of them. They had noticed whilst looting the bodies that though many of the pukelings were soaked through, those of the larger pukelmen were mostly dry. Scanning the opposite bank with his keen eyes Wistan saw what might be the answer to this puzzle, for tucked into the bushes was a craeci – a pine sapling that had been lopped and trimmed to make a makeshift bridge across the river. The Aetheling professed to be unable to swim so his loyal companions stripped off and plunged into the icy waters of the Gefnwash to retrieve the craeci and place it across the flow. The waters were much colder and somewhat faster than they had been in the relatively balmy days of Weodmonath and the task unfamiliar and arduous to the two warriors. However, at length the craeci was set and the nimble Aetheling was able to cross dry-shod.
Climbing from there up to the cave they found it deserted but for the body of a pukelman, clearly murdered by his fellows. After spending what remained of the precious daylight hours clearing it of the worst of its noisome detritus, the Geats settle down for the night.
In the morning they gather their belongings and set off for home. Their first task is to cross the river below them once more. The craeci is still in place and nimble Wistan and lightly armed Talorc cross without incident. However, Tohrwulf, encumbered by a bundle containing all his belongings, misses his footing and falls into the fast-flowing river. Tohrwulf himself swims easily to the bank but his bundle is left bobbing and slowly sinking, weighed down by weapons, armour and a goodly quantity of silver, as it makes its way down stream.
The three give chase but it is a difficult task to retrieve the bundle, for the banks are crowded with thickets. Labouring after their quarry, Wistan Wulfinga caught sight out of the corner of his left eye a flash of bright red and blue and, cunning woodsman as he was, thought to himself that it was late indeed in the year to see a kingfisher in the land of the Geats. So he was less surprised than the others to see a slight figure dressed in bright colours sitting on an outcropping on the opposite bank plucking idly at a lyra.
Pausing in his pursuit of Tohrwulf’s water-washed worldly wealth, Wistan stops to speak awhile with this unusual fellow, thinking perhaps that he might obtain help for his comrade’s predicament. The Merleking – for such he claimed to be – replied in a friendly but cautious fashion and indicated that he might be open to offers to return the goods that had entered his domain unsought. Wistan offered him a tale and launched into an account (well-known now in Gefndene) of his encounter with Grim and the ettin-folk. When he was done, the Merleking acknowledged that it was indeed an unusual tale, new to him, if somewhat roughly told. He proposed to return the bundle to them in exchange for an item from it. They agreed and followed downstream in the direction of his pointing finger. There a few hundred yards further on, they found a shingly bank with the bundle washed up upon it. On checking through his waterlogged gear Tohrwulf found all to be as he had packed it but for the oak-leaf brooch which was nowhere to be found.
They made their way upstream once more. The rock on which had sat the Merleking was bare and there was no sign of the kingfisher. Continuing upon their way, they arrived at Gefnhame in the late twilight without further incident.