Marti immediately piped up with, "What did she do? is she in ever so much trouble?"
The other sisters hushed her and scurried the younger children away. Elin climbed into her parents’ bed. The ceiling was high enough that they could sit cross-legged on it, in the snug house it was the only place for privacy.
She waited expectantly and tried to slow her breathing down.
Her father began, "Gunnar came to speak to me today."
Elin could not hide her excitement. "Yes! I say yes!"
Her mother laughed gently, "Hold on, hold on. You might not like being married. Heaven knows you think you know best and do not like listening to authority." She said it with a gentle smile. "You need to really think during your courting period, really, really think. If you can’t trust his judgment, then you shouldn’t marry him. An unhappy marriage is a terrible fate.”
That was a sobering thought, but she wanted to focus on how exciting being courted was. "I think you should tell him that I said yes."
Modre still looked concerned. “Elin, my darling, you are very young and beautiful. You don’t need to be in a hurry. You will always have a home here, and you have a useful trade. Marriage is for life."
Her father patted her mother’s knee reassuringly, "It’s just courting, Caren, she can still change her mind."
Elin knew that she would not change her mind. She fell asleep that night dreaming of a handsome blacksmith with powerful hands.
"Because I need water, silly."
"No, you don’t," he said with assurance.
She was a trifle annoyed, she had expected him to fall in beside her and walk to the river.
"How would you know if I didn’t need water?" she snapped.
"Because I filled it last night." He did not look pleased with her tone.
"Oh," she said.
"If we are courting you don’t need an excuse to see me. "
She smiled, “That’s good."
He leaned closer, “But snow dove, do not lie to me again."
"I won’t,” she promised, sitting on a barrel and loosening her shawl. It was stifling in the forge.
"Does your modre know you are here?" he asked which made her feel like a child.
"Of course," she retorted. Changing the subject seemed like a good idea.
“How did you become a blacksmith? I don’t actually know where you are from," she said.
For the first time in their short acquaintance, he looked uncomfortable. "I'm from the north. I lived on the wall for a few years, and then did an apprenticeship to a friend of my father."
"Tell me about the Snowforce," she had heard of the mystical warriors who defended the kingdom. They grew up together in a series of fortresses called "keeps."
Gunnar turned away from her and began banging a red-hot piece of metal with his massive hammer. Elin wasn’t sure if he was avoiding talking to her, or if he merely had to do the work at that moment. After a few moments of calamitous hammering, he stuck the rudimentary sword deep back into the coals.
Without looking up at her, he said, “I left the Snowforce when I was 13, I didn’t become a knight."
Elin was about to inundate him with questions; had something happened, did he just not want to anymore, and was it true that there were wooly mammoths far up north when Dafne came running down the lane.
"Oh, thank the Gods, there you are," the girl gasped as she held her side stitch and leaned against the wall.
Gunnar looked sharply at Elin, “You said they knew where you were."
"I thought they did," Elin lied. "I'll come home now," she quickly said and grasped Dafne's arm to help her back to the farm.
They hadn’t gone far when they ran into Modre and the younger girls. Her mother threw up her hands when she saw them. Elin hurried to catch up with her mother, the better to prevent her speaking so loudly that Gunnar would hear the scolding she was about to receive. “Young lady, I thought for sure you'd drowned. Your young man told your father that you don’t use the pulley. How could you be so inconsiderate?"
"As it turns out, I didn’t need water, Gunnar filled the barrels last night," Elin said in what she hoped was a dignified voice. Falling silently beside her mother,Elin thought about the giant blacksmith. He had quietly helped her with her hardest chore. Although he seemed annoyed that Modre had been concerned about her, even that didn’t seem harsh. She remembered his words, “If we are courting, you don’t need to make up a reason to come see me.” Imagining his dark eyes as he had spoken left her breathless. He was ridiculously handsome she thought to herself, really, it’s almost unseemly how gorgeous that man is.
She wondered what life with a man who was tender and sometimes stern and who was quick to help her with chores would be like. The thought of spending all her time in his presence left her unable to conceal her smile. The girls ran ahead, and modre tucked her arm through Elin’s.
“He is very handsome,” was all Elin could think to say.
“Yes, he certainly is. Young lady, that’s not a man who will tolerate tradable, better get that through your head right now.”
“Taradiddle?” Elin laughed, she had never heard of a more ridiculous word.
“Your Gran used to say that, it means lying.”
“I won't do any taradiddling,” Elin giggled, certain she wouldn’t ever tell him the whole truth ever again and thinking that “tradable” sounded like a nonsense word for some of the things she intended to do with Gunnar the next time she saw him naked.
It began to rain, and so they needed to work inside. The house was long and narrow, in the winter their fewer hardy animals would live at one end, with the back of their family’s fireplace keeping them warm. It was an arrangement that got very crowded very fast. Each of the older girls set to spinning and even the twins were put to work carding some wool. As Elin's drop spindle twisted, deftly turning clumps of wool into usable thread, she said, “Gunnar was in the Snowforce, but he left."
Her sisters were surprised by this, but her mother clearly already knew. "There are lots of reasons why boys don’t become knights. I think most don’t."
Elin spent the rainy afternoon imagining fanciful reasons why a potential knight had become a blacksmith. Most involved dragons, and a tragic princess, snow tigers, and wooly mammoths. She tried to imagine herself, a dairy maid in those dreams and felt herself deflate. There was nothing romantic about her. She sighed and realized she had ruined several handfuls of wool. It would need to be re-carded. There was a break in the rain, so Modre suggested that Elin could do some of the evening chores while there was still light.
She was grateful to be released from the drudgery of spinning. The morning's milk had been set aside, Elin wondered a little guiltily who had done her share of the milking. They were beginning to get less milk each day, but there was still quite a lot to work with. She skimmed off the cream and put it into the large leather sack that she would use to churn it into butter, making sure to leave some for Drouth. Her mother insisted that you needed to only leave enough work to make your tomte happy, if they grew to love the people on a farm, they would feel compelled to do all work that they could see needed to be done. Her mother insisted that they would literally work themselves to death. Elin thought it was a silly legend, but she complied. There was a wooden clip which allowed her to tightly close the top of the sack. The rope that supported Gertie's cradle had another use. After threading the cable through the wooden clip, and securing the ungainly bag from it, she opened the door a crack,
“Who wants to make butter?"
There was an explosion of eager little girls out of the door. Elin shooed them back in to get boots on, and warm wraps. Modre whispered, "Thank you," and Elin saw the cloud of flour that happened when you tried to knead bread in the middle of the crowd of eager young girls. Once outside, the girls clustered in a circle and swung the churn back and forth. The twins could use it as a swing, and so while one of them straddled it, the others would push them back and forth. They sang som
e of the rhymes their mother had taught them about the tomte. “Tomato in the dairy, tomte in the dairy, keep us fat and keep us merry.” They were a lively group, laughing and swinging. Seven-year-old Hansy asked, “When will you fall in love with that big, friendly man that wants to marry you?"
Elin bit her lip, imagining his strong hands holding one of her own. "I think I already have." She was standing there with a silly grin on her face when Ingrid gave the swinging churn a harder than expected shove. It slammed into Elin and knocked her flat.
Once the butter was churned, Ingrid and Dafne washed it in several rinses of fresh, clean water. Elin turned the cheeses. And made sure she left a bit of soft carded wool for the tomte. Elin had no idea what the tomte did with the wool. The girls had often debated whether it was used by the sprite to make clothing or as bedding. But everyone knew that it was one of the ways to keep your farm elf happy. The three oldest girls added salt to the butter and pressed it into blocks. They would sell it at the market, as well as have plenty for their own bread, which they could now smell baking.
Chapter 5
Gunnar strode into the farmyard, carrying both water buckets she had left at his forge when her sister had come to fetch her.
"Hello," Elin greeted him.
"If your mother can spare you, see if you can come on a walk with me." His tone was not unkind, but it was firm.
She hurried to do as he asked. Her modre sweetly assured Elin that she could go but told her to wrap up warm. Elin wished she had a nicer shawl, she would have to make a point of making one, she thought with dread. She had a contentious relationship with needle and thread. Modre rose and handed Elin her own best shawl. A quick buckling of her girdle over the shawl kept her from looking like a shapeless mushroom and promised to keep the warmth in. She gave Modre a quick kiss and ran out.
The blacksmith was standing near the wattle fence. A smaller person could have leaned up against it, but Gunnar would almost certainly have caused it to topple.
"It's fine. I can go, Elin said breathlessly.
"Does she actually know or are you fabricating yet again?"
"I wasn’t fabricating," she lied. "I thought they knew where I was."
"Well, they apparently just found out that you never use the pulley at the river, so she might have been more worried about you than she was before."
"You were spying on me while I got water! How long were you skulking around watching me?” Elin was embarrassed, but she was also furious.
He raised a single eyebrow, “Really, the girl who lurked in the forest and fell directly on top of me in the river wants to be high and mighty about spying?”
This further annoyed her. “I cannot believe you told my parents that!" She crossed her arms over herself. If she hadn’t stopped herself in the nick of time, she would have stomped her foot.
"You shouldn’t have lied, and it’s a miracle you haven’t drowned yet, doing that."
He reached for her hand, and she found it challenging to remain livid with her hand clasped in his much larger one. "I think we need to talk about some things," he began.
Elin fell into step alongside him suddenly anxious that he had changed his mind. "Do you not want to court me anymore?" she blurted.
He looked shocked, “Of course not."
"My mother thinks I am too headstrong to be married, and that you’re not a man to tolerate fibbing," Elin confessed awkwardly.
"You 're the prettiest girl I have ever seen, and I like your spirit. But, no more lying, no more being stupid." She didn’t like being called stupid, but his tone was gentle. "Have you been to a wedding before?" he asked. It was a ridiculous question, she had been to many weddings in her young lifetime. ”If we marry you know what we will promise each other?" he asked.
Seeing her blank expressing he continued, "I will offer you the strength of my arms, the protection of my sword and the shelter of my cloak."
Elin had heard the vows often enough but had never really thought about them. She whispered her part, "I will offer you the sustenance of a tended hearth, the warmth of my heart and the children of my body." The deep meaning of those words resonated within her chest.
"I will protect, provide for and guide you," he continued.
"Yes," Elin whispered with longing.
He put a finger under her chin, “And to do that, you need to be prepared to yield to me when I ask you to. "
Looking up at his handsome face, it seemed like an easy choice to make, “I can do that," she said, not meaning a single word of it.
They lingered at the fence watching the new lambs dance on wobbly legs around their mothers. The earth smelled of violets, and the sun was warm on her face. Elin had the sense that the world was about to open up and pour good things upon her. She watched Gunnar’s face intently.
“You have a lot of animals,” he said. “No wonder you have such a big barn.” She smiled, she knew that to a non-farmer it looked odd that the house was snug, but the barn was even sturdier and much larger. Elin did her best imitation of her father’s voice, ”You can’t eat a house.” They both laughed. “We keep the mothers and the little calves in the barn while they are so vulnerable. Late they will be bigger and outside all the time in the summer.”
Elin leaned a tiny bit closer, she wasn’t touching him, but their arms almost touched, and she wondered what it would be like to feel those strong arms around her body. She continued,
“The big animals will stay here, we have enough pasture, but our sheep will go higher into the mountains with the shepherd once it’s warm enough.”
“Why do you have all three?”
She shrugged her shoulders,” Some years are good for one kind of herd, some years for another. Da says it's wiser to have a mixed herd. Mostly, I like to look at the baby lambs, they are so darling.”
So quietly that she was not certain if she had heard it or not he whispered, “You are my darling.”
Elin was glad she had not finished her sentence since she had been about to add, “and they all taste so good.” Farm girls could only maintain so much whimsy about livestock, however adorable.
She allowed herself a quick and furtive squeeze of his giant hand. She happily returned to the cottage with him and was pleased when he agreed to stay for dinner. Modre offered him her chair, he initially refused out of politeness, but it was immediately apparent that he would never fit on one of the benches that the girls sat on. Modre patted his arm, ”Really, it’s nice, I never get to sit next to my husband. Please, take the chair.”
It was a cozy scene, her Da and her betrothed at opposite ends of the table. There were platters of tender lamb stewed with the newest carrots and soft lettuces dressed with hazelnuts. Gunnar did not seem at all annoyed by the chattering of the small girls, in fact, he seemed enchanted by the entire meal. Elin filled his plate three times. When everyone was full, Gunnar rose with Elin to clear the table and found himself scolded by Modre. “You’re a guest, sit ye down, sir, right now.” She said with mock sternness.
Gunnar gave a courtly bow, “As you wish madam,” he scooped up Marti and said to the giggling toddler, “Let’s get out of everyone’s way.” Modre had raised her daughters well, and it took no time at all for them to get the dishes out of the way. While Gunnar wrestled with the small girls near the hearth, Modre pulled out her grinding stone. Elin knew that this meant that, despite her chiding, she was treating the blacksmith as a family member, doing chores in front of him. Gunnar stood, with one girl on his shoulders and one on each leg. “Can I help?”
Modre smiled, “No indeed. “ She poured a handful of grain into the hole and began to spin the grinding stone. “I try to grind for the next day, as we rest before the fire.”
Gunnar placed a huge hand over Madre’s much smaller one. Using only two fingers he sent the grinder spinning, leaving a steady stream of flour spilling out from under it. Even Da laughed, “It’s like watching a snow tiger hunt a mouse!” With everyone taking turns, including the giant, the flo
ur was ground and set aside for the night.
Chapter 6
It had grown very dark, and Da shooed the little girls towards their beds and told Elin that she could say goodbye on the porch.
The air had turned cold while they had lingered over dinner and the grass had already frosted over. “There won’t be any privacy until we have our own house,” she apologized.
“It’s nice, a beautiful girl needs a family to insist she be treated well.”
A teasing smile was on her lips, “Are you planning on treating me well?”
“Like a queen,” he whispered moving his lips dangerously close to hers. Elin closed her eyes yearning for her first kiss.
A twig snapped somewhere in the barnyard and Gunnar suddenly opened the door and propelled Elin through it, “A torch please,” he said to her father. The two men hurried outside, following Natte who was barking like a demon from the icy depths of hell. The girls all looked at Modre. “I suspect it’s a wolf,” she said, continuing to tuck them in. A wolf was nothing to be scared about when you were safe in a warm house. “Wolves are afraid of a man with a torch,.
”and there are two of them out there,” Elin said suddenly proud of her strong betrothed.
The men returned, cheeks flushed from the chill. “The animals are all safe in the barn, nothing to worry about,” he said loudly then whispered to Modre, ”It’s a large pack, I’ve suggested that Gunnar stay here. No one should wander in the dark with that lot out there.”
Her Gilded Firebird: Book Three in the Norse Warriors series Page 3