“We are the people of the Grey Glen
We will be happy within our home
We know it is better here than there
We are the people of the Grey Glen.”
“Are you Norse,” Bradan asked, “or Alban?”
The women straightened up again, still smiling. “We are the people of the Grey Glen.”
“Who is your chief, your lord?” Bradan tried, “who owns this land?”
The woman's smile did not falter. “Nobody owns this land. We all own this land. We are the people of the Grey Glen.”
“They are the People of the Grey Glen,” Melcorka said. “I think it is time we moved on, Bradan, and left this Grey Glen to its people.”
“Aye. No offer of hospitality, you'll notice.” Bradan said. “That's unlike anywhere I've been in Alba, Erin or the Norse lands.” He tapped his staff on the ground. “Onward, Melcorka.”
Saying goodby
