Éomund stepped forward into the circle, keeping his eyes on Ecglaf. All talk in the small valley behind Edoras had fallen silent when his name was called to face his initiation. Éomund knew more than a few would love to see Elfwine's son fail.
He'd often endured the snickers of fellow trainees when he had to appear in the fancy dress of court. 'Soft' they'd whisper. 'Favored'. But he would prove otherwise.
"Þu eart gearu?" Ecglaf asked, the swordmaster's signal to get ready.
"Gíese," Éomund replied. Éomund blinked as Ecglaf swung the sword by his head. But he didn't flinch.