Sister Bear

[Alvlin]

"I have decided that I am going to Miklagard."

Eskil had been sitting in his own thoughts with his mug. Now beer sprayed over the table.

"You have what?"

"I have decided that I am coming with you to Miklagard when you start up your trade expedition. Thorstein's marriage changes everything. Alfrida has help, Alfhild can stay here and be raised by the whole household, and Hrefna adores her! If we go east into the spring next year, we can be back in little over a year to see her grow up."

"If we come back. It's…. it's out of the question. You have no idea what you're asking for."

Kildevi had been talking enthusiastically. Now she frowned and crossed her arms.

"I am not asking."

"Have you ever been on a ship?"

"No, but…"

"You can't sail. You can't fight. You can't row. You can't even defend yourself and your tiny body can't roll a ship on land from here to Birka. You know nothing that's useful."

"I'm a fast learner."

"You're a liability."

"I can perform all the rites you might need. I can pace a drum. I can mend a sail."

"Thralls can mend. Men can pace drums."

"I can talk to the land and make foretellings."

"You can get pregnant again and die in childbirth on a dirty pram one day south of Holmgard."

"Or you take care of those needs somewhere else until safely on our way back."

"And if I'm not willing to do that?"

She stared right through him for a second, then her face slipped into a neutral mask.

"You must have some old frillða left along the way."

"I don't think either of them would be very happy to see me. But that is not the point, I just don't want you to die because I let you do something you're not made for."

"I don't think the spring and the bear kept me alive just so I could stand around weaving for the rest of my life."

"And I don't want to guard your pale and frail frame through rivers and rapids and not a woman to be seen until the whorehouses in Konugard."

Kildevi shrugged.

"So don't guard me. I'll whip up a couple of men who will. I have a name, and a well sized morning gift, if you remember?"

He bit down on one reply for a slightly less abrasive one.

"I'm your husband. It's not a responsibility I can ignore."

"So, don't come! Maybe you should stay here and second-head the household when your father is away."

"Maybe I will."

"Maybe you should."

They glared at each other.

"He's right. You are not trained for anything but sejð and housewifery. The whole idea is childish." Alfrida had been silent throughout, and now they both turned to look at her.

"Thank you, Mother! Will you listen to her, at least?"

"I don't agree," came Thorsteins voice from the door. He had obviously heard them from outside. "She's a grown woman with skills far beyond common housewifery, and has proven herself tough when called for. I had never been on a ship before we went, and you just assumed I'd pick it up. And I did. She won't even be expected to haul a rope."

"That's different. You're taller than I am."

"So? She's a seer, she's more respected than I was. Besides, there may be few women on the rivers, but no lack of merchant's wives in the settlements. And they must have gotten there somehow, right?"

"Well, you should know," Eskil said dourly. "But she's not talking about staying in Ladoga, that would at least be worth thinking about."

"Why Ladoga? You could both stay in Smaleskia for a while. Very nice place in the summer, Smaleskia."

Eskil shot Thorstein a murderous glare.

Alfrida cut in with a sharp eye on Thorstein who grinned from ear to ear.

"She's also a mother, she can't run around playing with her life like some bold cockling." He shrugged.

"Children are fostered all the time. Hrefna will be happy to take care of the little one, more than happy, even. If they don't come back, we'll raise her."

Once again, the discussion was at a standstill.

Eskil turned to his wife again.

"You have no idea how tough and dirty it is."

Kildevi stared back.

"You have no idea what I can handle or not."

"You've always slept inside, at least. What are you even going to do there?"

"I don't know. But I wouldn't want it this much unless it was important."

"Oh, in that case… If you want it, it must be a great idea, because you only ever want what's good for you."

Svein came wandering in, but he must have sensed something, because he stopped and looked at them.

"Uhm, what are we talking about?"

"Nothing," they all said in unison.


Kildevi found it quite refreshing that Eskil never disappeared or avoided her when he was feeling testy. On the contrary, whenever they'd fought, he was more present than ever, and showered her with sullen glares and cranky remarks to make sure she didn't forget that she was in disfavour. Two could play that game, though, and petty provocations fed on each other back and forth until Alfrida put her foot down and told them to take their dinner on the side benches so the rest of the household wouldn't have to listen to their bickering.

Kildevi slammed down his mug and his bowl in front of him before getting her own from the hearth.

"What's this?"

She looked down into his bowl with raised eyebrows.

"I don't know, it looks perfectly fine to me."

"You know I don't eat caraway."

"It's bread. You never said which sort."

"Can't you get me something else?"

"I'm afraid we've run out."

They stared at each other for a moment. He demonstratively looked her up and down.

"Why don't you sit down. You look like you need to eat."

"Looking at you, I'm not hungry."

"So don't look."

Alfrida passed them on her way to the pantry.

"We can still hear you. Stop, or you'll eat in the stockroom."


They scrubbed their teeth. Unpinned their clothes. Socks were carefully rolled and put in the shoes.

"Are you sleeping in your kirtle?"

Rolling her eyes, she sat up and pulled the kirtle and the shift over her head. Then she laid down on her naked back and stared at him.

"Fine. Here I am."

"Are we really doing this?"

"You can do what you want, you can't demand that I'm enthusiastic about it."

"Fine, I'll pass."

"I'm so glad to hear you can do that."

"You said I could do whatever I wanted, so…"

He demonstratively turned his back to her, curling up against the pillows.

"Fine," she replied, and did the same, staring into the tapestry on their bed wall. He immediately spread out, taking up the little space she left.

"Can you move, this is my side."

"I take up more space, because I'm bigger than you. That's why I can lift heavy stuff."

"You think five days lifting a boat is tougher than nine months growing a baby? Bacraut."

"Babies are tiny. I still need more room than you."

"If you didn't shove your butt at me there would be room enough."

"Beiscaldi," he muttered before he inched himself just a thumb away, but there was simply no way to comfortably be in the same bed without touching. She blew out the light, and then lay in darkness for an eternity, feeling him restlessly twist and turn.

"Eskil?"

"Mm."

"Are you awake?"

"Yes, I can't sleep."

"Me neither."

"We lie together, then we sleep. It's what we do."

"Yes. It is."

She felt him turn and she did too, only the slightest shadow of him visible in the dark. Probingly, he put his hand on her shoulder, and she inched closer to reach his waist with her fingers. Closing the gap one hair's width at a time they finally reached kissing distance.

"This does not mean I'm giving in. You're not going to Miklagard."

"This does not mean I won't."

"As long as we agree on that."


The day after, Kildevi caught up with Thorstein as he was readying his horse.

"Thorstein, will you teach me? To row, and sail, and fight."

He smiled.

"No."

"But… you seemed to…"

"I think he should let you come. It's an adventure, and I believe it would do you good to see something more than this house. But he's still my brother in both blood and battle, so I won't go behind his back. The first two things you won't need anyway." He bent down, tightening the saddle. "Eskil almost died on the way down. That left some scars deeper than just the limp."

"What happened?"

"We were ambushed at the portage between Kasplya and Dnieper, and Eskil took a spear to the left thigh. It didn't look so bad at first, but by the time we reached the Dnieper he was sweating and raving and then he passed out. We had to stay a month with a healer in Smaleskia until his fever broke and the leg had healed enough to continue." He chuckled. "He was bedridden in more ways than one. She must have been furious when we just disappeared one morning."

Kildevi smiled bleakly at the story, but he must have seen how discouraged she felt, because he leant closer.

"I don't think he's impossible, but have you noticed he's always a bit stiff when he wakes up? That's the leg reminding him of how he almost died, and now you want to put yourself in the same danger. I think he actually wants you to come, but he's worried and overthinking it and will blame himself for every scrub or blister you get on the way. Show him that you're serious, try to build some mass, wear him down. He's not going to divorce you over it, you have room to push."

He winked. "Sooner or later he'll give up - and then you ask him to play Ralph the Robber."

"Ralph the Robber?"

"You know what, ask him tonight."

"What is it?"

"Let's just say it's a good way to get some basic fight practice. Just trust me. It will work. Eskil has never said no to Ralph the Robber."


That night, Kildevi snuggled up to Eskil and put her chin on his chest.

"Eskil."

"Mm."

"Do you wanna play Ralph the Robber with me?"

He blinked, then he looked down at her for a moment before he sighed and stared up at the roof.

"I am going to kill Thorstein."

He was struggling, she could see it. Like a child knowing the honey was off limits, but…

"Well, do you?"

"Yes! I really shouldn't do this…"

"Now I'm intrigued. How do we play?"

"Ralph is a robber. He attacks people and take their treasure. So first we need to get a treasure."

"And when we have found one?"

"Then one of us is Ralph, the other has the treasure. Once a day, Ralph will lie in wait to jump the traveller and take the treasure. The treasure can't be pick-pocketed, it can only be won in a struggle."

"I assume there are some rules?"

"Mother forbade us to play in the longhouse, but I am a grown-up now, I can play where I want!"

"Once a day?"

"Yes."

"Anytime, anywhere?"

"Yes. But I say that carrying a baby means hands off. Ralph doesn't want to crush babies, just ambush people and take their treasure."

"And when Ralph has the treasure?"

"Then the loser becomes Ralph."

"So, when is the game over?"

Eskil gave her a side eye.

"Over?"

"Yes. When does it end?"

"End?"

"Yes."

"I'm not gonna tell you because I don't think that is a very good question."


Kildevi stood out on the longhouse floor with her arms crossed and an annoyed frown on her face.

"The rules say anywhere, anytime. You said nothing about having to wait until you wake up."

Eskil stared at her from inside their bed curtain.

"But that should be obvious!"

"You also didn't say anything about waiting until you didn't hold a glass in your hand with nowhere to put it down, nor about exceptions for pissing or anything else you've complained about this week."

He threw out his hands.

"The rules were made for honourable young boys who didn't try to break the game!"

"I'm starting to think your idea of 'unfair' is anything that gives me a chance to rob you."

"No! I just don't like when you choose a time when I can't defend myself, that's not being a good sport."

"And being a bloodied mercenary twice my size is somehow good sportsmanship? How do you expect me to rob you through some kind of struggle if I'm not allowed to play dirty?"

"You can play dirty, just not this dirty! Trip me, pinch me, jump me from behind, but don't tackle me when I shit, is what I'm trying to say."

"So, if I understand you correctly, you say pissing, shitting, sleeping and drinking from valuable glassware are reasonable exceptions to the anywhere/anytime rule?"

"YES!"

"How about marital duties?"

Eskil shook his head in disbelief.

"No Kildevi, no. Don't take this to bed."

"Hunting, then? Does snaring you count as enough of a struggle? Or does the struggle have to be with my actual body?"

"You know what, let's make a new rule. We swap every day, no matter who wins. If the treasure hasn't changed hands when we go to bed, the traveller just hands it over. Will that stop the madness?"

"Let's try. But if you still win ALL the time, I'm not going to be a good sport about it."


Alfrida knew something was afoot. There was something in the air, a tension, gazes flying across the small hall. She didn't know what they meant, and that made her worried. Knowing what happened in her household was as much her responsibility as keeping track of rations or organising the housework, and she kept on her toes, waiting for something that would make her understand what she was dealing with.

One day she saw Kildevi put Alfhild down to sleep in the hanging crib and just a moment later, she heard a whimper and the distinct thump of a body being pushed into the back wall of the longhouse. With a few quick steps she reached the back door and looked outside, only to see Kildevi huddled up against the wall, Eskil standing over her with something in his closed fist. The younger woman's hair was in disarray, the headscarf almost undone, and one of her shoes left in the grass when she presumed he'd thrown her against the timbered wall.

"You don't have to hold back," she heard him sneer before he walked away and left his young wife - and new mother of his child no less! - cowering on the ground.

Alfrida's head spun. It didn't add up. On some level she had always known Sigulf had it in him, but Eskil had always been hungry for glory - not power. What had she missed? Last time she had allowed it to go too far. She would not make the same mistake again.

With newfound determination she crossed the longhouse into the hall and went out the main door to apprehend him. He tried to avoid her, but when he veered off her path she placed herself firmly in his way.

"Young man, you are not going anywhere until I've had words with you!"

"Words? What have I done to deserve being called a young man?"

He looked guilty. Good. Crossing her arms she released the full power of her matron stare.

"You know full well what I saw back there. But I will bear witness this time, and I swear on the ground we stand on I'll make her divorce you if I ever see that happening again. I won't spend another day trying to make her rise from her bed all black and blue because I've raised ill-tempered brutes too cowardly to be husbands. Show me what you took from her!"

She had started low to avoid a scene, but her voice rose for every word until it echoed over the yard and in between the outhouses. Sheepishly he opened his hand. She stared at the pouch.

"What is it?"

"Uhm. It's… it's the treasure."

Alfrida stared at him. The air seemed to go out of her.

"Oh no."

"Uhm, yes. It's her turn to be Ralph now."

 

[Alvlin]

They sat down inside. Alfrida was still a bit flushed, but she had managed to find two cups for them and fill them with warm goat milk.

"So, about Ralph…"

She dismissed him with a wave.

"It's not important. I just never thought that you… that she…"

"I didn't know. I understand some things better now."

"He's dead. It's over. She never stood up to him in life, but she did in death. She took her dignity back before he was put on the pyre."

"I've heard about that, but I didn't understand what it meant. Alfjir's Kolgrim told me she was possessed by a spirit of battle and rode him like a horse, screaming for blood. It sounded like…" He shrugged. "Like something that would make a good story. Some sort of sacrifice, I gathered, without her actually dying."

"It was. But it was a spirit of vengeance, not battle."

"What happened?"

She shook her head.

"I won't talk more to you about Sigulf. You hated each other, but you were both my children. If Kildevi wants to tell you, she will, but I will grieve his death for a long time yet and don't want to see your outrage."

"So you still defend him."

"She allowed him to continue. But I should have taken her revenge and balanced the scales for her, not left it up to her when she was lovebound."


They spooned up to sleep, the autumn chill making it a comfort if not yet a necessity. Arm casually thrown around her waist Eskil stared at the back of her head trying to come up with some good way to broach the subject, then gave up.

"Ástin mín?"

"Mm?"

"Why didn't you tell me about Sigulf?"

He felt her tense up like a bowstring, but she didn't turn around.

"What about him?"

"Mother told me he… that he didn't always treat you very well."

She lay silent for a moment before replying.

"I have grown wary of men who demand that I tell them things. You have no right to my life before we married."

"You're right. I don't."

"You can't just come into my bed and accuse me of silence."

"No."

"So what do you want?"

Eskil rolled over on his back, weighing his words.

"I want to avoid more pitfalls."

"Like?"

"Like I wouldn't have dragged the entire wedding party from the hall to the house if I knew you had reason to be scared of me."

"I wasn't scared. I promised myself long before you came back that I'd rather let you kill me than scare me."

"That's… helpful."

"I've expelled that spirit."

"If you say so."

"I've killed his sword and broken his spear, what more do you want from me?"

"Nothing."

"So what do you want me to say?"

"You have already told me a lot. Thank you."

They lay silent for a moment.

"Can you stop?"

"Stop what?"

"This. This calm. This… I don't know where to put anything when you're just… making me talk, taking in everything."

He nodded, thinking for a while. Then he came to a decision.

"Maybe you should bring it with you to Miklagard."

Finally she turned, staring at him.

"What?"

"You haven't been as sheltered as I thought when I said no, and I just realised that some fears just grow if you give in to them. Maybe we both need to see what kind of woman you are when you're not in his shadow."

"I'm not in his shadow. He's dead."

Eskil looked around at the mattress, the wall, the bed posts.

"You're still sleeping in the bed he made, eating from the same pot, talking to the same elves, a short walk away from his mound. You haven't used your magic apart from some charms and foretelling since you lifted our curse three years ago. I want to see what you can do somewhere else, where no one has seen you disgraced."


They laid for a long time in silence, then she sighed and looked at him with a frown.

"Sometimes your existence is a provocation."

"Huh? And why is that?"

"Because you're beautiful, and strong, and always seem to know what to say. You notice everything, have endless patience with me, you can tell a story, you can fight and befriend men and make women want you, and still take time to consider what I need at any given moment. It makes me angry to think about how all the gifts of gods and men somehow gathered to you."

"None of my talents involve a single whisper of magic, neither sejðr nor galdr."

She tapped his chest with a finger.

"Keep going. Tell me all the ways you're not perfect."

"I'm so proud I have to laugh at myself not to choke on it."

"Go on."

"Your most common complaint is that I don't know how to shut up in time."

"That is true, you don't."

"I am also very stubborn when I think I'm right, especially if I think I might be wrong."

"Good one. I hadn't thought of that before."

"And that can make me terribly condescending."

"Yes, it does."

"I have a very rigid view of how the world is supposed to work and get very upset when it doesn't."

"That has happened many times."

She waited, encouraging him to continue.

"You want more?"

"Everything you can come up with makes me feel better."

"I have too little patience with people I don't like, and too much with those I do?"

She grimaced.

"That last one was a hint, wasn't it?"

"I have great trust in your instincts and your judgement."


She put her head down on his arm again, and said, "Do you really want me to tell you?"

"Yes, but I won't push you if you don't."

"Can you promise you won't get angry?"

"With him? No."

"Then I'll wait until you can."

Eskil shook his head.

"But why? Mother said something similar. Why don't you want me to get angry? Feuds have started over less."

She thought about it for a while, but when she spoke there was no hesitation in her voice.

"Because I loved him once, and the good moments and the bad moments were all equally true. They don't balance each other out. So when you rage about the bad without even knowing the good, you take my bright memories away from me. I can't let you do that. And I've already taken his anger, I don't want to handle yours too."

"Mother seemed furious."

"Yes. And I can take Alfridas' anger because she loved him, I can't take yours because you didn't."


"How is everything?"

Hrefna looked up, mild confusion on her face.

"What do you mean?"

Kildevi hesitated. Hrefna had a low threshold for getting defensive, so she chose her words carefully.

"Your steps seem lighter than they used to be."

"They are."

"Are you sure you want to care for Alfhild when we are away?"

"If you trust me with it."

"I more than trust you. I think you are more fit for motherhood than I ever was."

Hrefna looked down, visibly embarrassed.

"I'm sure that is not true. I just long for children, and you have so much else."

Kildevi tried to catch her gaze, but her sister by marriage kept her eyes on her work, as usual. No. She couldn't do this tip-toe dance anymore.

"What I really mean to ask is if your husband has shaped up enough to not make you miserable? Because if not, I need to slap him around a bit for you before we leave."

Hrefna was silent for a moment.

"I would never want you to scold him for my sake."

"I know. That's why I never do it when you hear me."

Now Hrefna glanced up at her.

"Was that a joke? Sometimes I don't understand when you are joking and when you mean what you say."

Kildevi sighed. "Sometimes it's both. This was one of those times."

"In that case, no, no scolding is necessary. He still talks over me and sometimes forgets me when there are others around, but I can see that he tries to think, and he always asks me nicely if he wants something done."

Kildevi nodded, as usual not sure what to say in the face of Hrefna's servile perspective.

"That's good. That is… the least you should be able to expect, but I suppose things don't just change over night."

Hrefna shook her head.

"You misunderstand me. Things that happen over night are much better, and he told me that is because of you. Thank you. I still don't understand why a man would hurt his own pride by asking, but I am grateful that he did."

"Trust me, his pride was much more hurt by not knowing. If someone thought your food was distasteful for some reason, would you prefer to guess meal after meal or would you want to know why, so you can tweak what you add?"

"But I cook well, my food is not distasteful."

"Exactly."

"I don't understand."

"Dwell on it."


"I think I'm getting better!"

Eskil stood, holding the staff he'd just struck out of her hands in a strike he knew would leave her left hand sore for a couple of days. Twirling it in one hand, he smiled at her enthusiasm.

"Yes, technically as good as Thore. I think you're ready to train with Asbjorn."

"Thore?! And Asbjorn is 11, and tiny! What about Holmger?"

"Hah, not a chance. In a fair fight, he'd throw you around like a mitten."

Her face dropped.

"A mitten. I'm still taller than him."

Eskil gave her a sideways smile.

"You are tall, but you're built like a wisp. These boys have been fighting all their lives. Holmger is disciplined, he perfects every move before setting it in stone, but Asbjorn is a devious little improviser, if he finds a pebble he'll push it in your eye and twist your ears off. I recommend you take Asbjorn's path. You'll never get ahead on Holmger's."

"How much have you been holding back on me?"

He shrugged.

"Enough to make it fun. But I wouldn't go full out on you even if it was serious and I didn't know you."

Kildevi gave him a suspicious glare.

"Why? You can't assume I'm bad just because I'm small!"

"No, but I can assume a lot more from your posture and how you move. That's another lesson: there is no point in doing more than necessary, with some margin for error. Don't waste strength you might need later."

"Don't give me a chance next time. Just to give me a taste."


She did see him coming, but once she did, it was too late. One moment something blocked the daylight from the door in the pantry, the next moment, she was pushed up against raw timber, face pressed to the wall, her hands flailing weakly to the sides while he patted her down, searching for the pouch that should have been in her belt, but wasn't.

"Where is it?" he wheezed. "How can I rob you if you don't have the treasure?"

"Wait! I'll… I had to hide it from Alfhild. I'll fetch it for you."

Slowly, he released his grip and she turned to face him, making herself as little as possible. Biting her lip, she opened her buckle and released the string holding the pouch under her dress.

"Are you sure that Ralph just wants the treasure?"

He raised one eyebrow.

"I should not be falling for this."

"Why not? You have the treasure now. Who would stop you?"

Leaning closer, she whispered, "I can feel through my dress that you want more than silver. What would Ralph do?"

Suddenly, he grabbed her, pushing his lips to hers as he dragged her down on the floor, ripping the top of her shift to force his hand down inside it. She made no effort to resist him, instead she gave a small yelp of surprise and kissed him back, squirming to help him drag the shift higher up over her knees. His hand let go of her breast, instead fumbling with the trousers and just as they opened and he heaved himself on top of her, a small blade pressed into his side. He froze.

"What is that?"

"My belt knife."

"If you stab me there, I'll just be bleeding and angry."

He adjusted her hand.

"In the groin, or the armpit, back of the knee if it's convenient, as deep as you can, harder than you think. You don't care if I die in three days, you want me off you now, and that means blood."

She nodded.
He waited.

"Ástin mín?"

"Yes?"

"You can put the knife away now."


Winter came that year, like most years, only to give the world a breather just before midwinter. Half-way into the winter season, ice melted and snow thawed for a week, making a few confused bulbs rise in the herb garden only to get mercilessly beaten back when winter returned.


When they went to bed on the fifth of those thawing days, Eskil didn't spoon up like he used to in the evening. Instead, he sat back, staring up at the smoke rift.

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't think so."

"So, what's on your mind?"

He was silent for a moment, thinking.

"I think I'm ready."

"Ready? For what?"

"Ready to listen without outrage."

So, she told him. Not every little detail, but most of them. She told him of that first fight, of being split between rage and longing, of his mother's advice that she never found a way to follow. She told him about not replying when the spirits whispered, about evening fears and self doubt, about measuring risks by the tankard and her own worth through the eyes of someone for whom she could never be enough.
Finally she told him about the gut wrenching fear for a sleepy child, and how her fylgja had shielded her mind in a shroud of silence when her body was made unfit to live in. About sleeping on the same pillow, staring at the same bed hanging, watching that worn spot grow in her mind as she waited for him on their wedding night and waking up to that paler stripe on their first morning, still not sure if, or when, he too would turn from jester to jailer.

But she didn't tell him about how she and Alfrida had spiked Sigulfs midday drink with poppy, nor about the relief of his death and the overbearing guilt that followed. And she said not a single word about accepting the idea of having to marry him next only because her grandmother said that she had to.

And he listened calmly, held her, told her she couldn't have done anything differently, promised to never hit her in anger, or use his own enjoyment to punish and silence. And when she finally fell asleep he very calmly, and of course without any outrage, went out and put his fist through the door of the smokehouse.

There are no secrets in a longhouse, so when Asbjorn asked Thorstein why Eskil's hand was splintered, he simply replied, "we heard her tell him what happened when we were going east," and Asbjorn being Asbjorn, no one else had to ask any further questions.


But Eskil still had a lot of outrage to pour over someone, and since he had broken the promise to Kildevi and couldn't talk to her, he went to Svein.

"You knew. All of you knew, and did nothing!"

And for once, Svein didn't mumble and mutter.

"Yes, we did! We watered his drink and broke up what we could, but he got angry when we talked to her and no one wanted to make anything worse. And Mother was worried, she tried to make her do something, but mamma was so sure that nothing could be solved for good from the outside, that she forced her own mouth shut, and you know how that isn't her."

"Where was our father?"

"Not here, most of the time. And what little he saw he expected mother to handle."

"But you! Where were you? You were the oldest and here the whole time!"

But Svein was not going to take that lying down.

"Where were you!" he screamed back, voice cracking again.

"You took Thorstein and disappeared for three years and left us with him and now you tell me I should have done something! What should I have done?! I am not some hero like you and Holmger, I'm not even Thorstein, he would have killed me!"

"I… I didn't know I was needed here."

"Well, you were. Not just for her."

"I couldn't just stay home guarding him. I had no reason to believe…"

"No, you went because you didn't care yet. You care now. Don't lay that on me."


So the hand was left to heal, the smokehouse door left for spring repairs and the past put to rest for the moment. As their journey approached, Eskil went to visit the merchant whose convoy they had shares in, and as usual he asked his wife if there was something special he should look for at the markets they passed, or in Froðes own stockrooms.

"I want a new wall hanging. And a new pillow. Ones I haven't made myself."

He blinked.

"It's been four years. You haven't changed them?"

"No. It wasn't supposed to matter"

"But it did?"

"Yes."

"I'll get you something beautiful."

"Just a new stripe will do. I have beauty to spare on my other side."

And when they packed up to leave, Kildevi took the spell from their bed and put it in her luggage, without a thought to ever bring it back home again.

---

Author's note: This is the end of the first... Chapter? Part? Booklet? Whatever you call something written on your mobile and checked for spelling and grammar by your husband in between fetching crackers for tiny humans. This has been posted more or less daily because a lot of it was written and just needed to be edited and complemented, sometimes a Darling or two was mercilessly killed off. Now we venture into waters (pun intended) where all I have to lean on is a timeline and a couple of scenes, so I'm afraid the pace will slow down a bit from now on.

On the other hand, there will be at least two different kinds of ships, miserable weather and a sharp increase in the amount of swearing.
And that's, like, my teaser.

Thank you, those of you who has taken your time to read. Hope I'll see you in the next thread!

/Alva

(If you've read this far and have any thoughts at all, I'd love a message. Come to think of it, thoughts aren't mandatory - I'd still love a "Hi!" with no thoughts what so ever.)