A Quake Along the Plain
Feb 8, 2019 23:00:25 GMT -5
Post by Runa on Feb 8, 2019 23:00:25 GMT -5
Runa’s hand squeezed the locket that hanged around her neck with one hand, her other cupping around the small, tight fingers of an excited little girl who was near skipping at her side. The wind was coming in off the plain, and with it Runa almost could imagine the thunder of an Eored’s worth of hooves filtering back toward the Hill City. The day was clear overhead, a gift for those setting out upon the plain.
The morning had begun the same as it had Ceolmund’s last muster. Runa had roused from sleep to her husband’s hands and lips long before the sun was set to rise. Perhaps she hated that her husband would need to leave, though Runa could never have denied how much she had enjoyed the tradition they had started for sending him off.
“Ceol, I—” The woman had started to whisper to him, for though perhaps she had already told him many times that morning how much she loved him with body and word, Runa was not sure she would ever feel she had done so enough. Yet her words stilled, a clamor in the kitchen interrupting her. “Eorl’s flaming knickers,” Runa hissed as she leapt from the bed, seeking to untangle herself from her husband, and wrangle the bed sheet to help wrap haphazardly about her as she threw open the door.
The blonde head of curls looked less golden and more dingy in the silvery moonlight that washed in through the window, though the healer could see very clearly it was no specter in her kitchen. “Paega!” The food arrayed upon the floor was mess enough, but the dishes and pots that the girl had gotten ahold of were rolling about as well.
“Good mowning, Mama Wuna!” The girl had sang, turning about and waving jam-covered fingers. “I’m making bweakyfast fow Papa Coleymond.”
Paega had not understood why Runa had immediately hauled her away, though her mood brightened when Ceolmund had told her she could help him get ready to leave. She had lingered just long enough for Runa to wipe her face and hands before shooting off toward the bedroom as a loosed arrow, leaving her mother with a heap of catch-up to do.
Sausage, rolls, bacon, fruit slices—Runa had worked as quickly as she was able, listening to the sound of her husband and daughter moving about the house. There was a life that it made, one that filled the house far better than the muster past. Into a basket she had wrapped it all and set it upon the table. Her husband had picked at the food as he had moved about, Paega hanging from his limbs at any moment she was able.
Then it was time for Ceolmund to step outside their home; the start of the muster, as far as Runa’s heart was concerned. She had dressed Paega and herself, then set off toward the main gate. Each step she had taken had felt somehow harder, thoughts racing ahead. Ceolmund would be gone from the city, and though her house would not be empty as it was when he had parted from her those weeks ago, Runa’s heart fluttered regardless. The whole of the Hill City knew now of the secret Ceolmund and she had wished to keep a while longer; Elin among them…
The gate had been bustling as the time before, and men whose faces she did not recognized came to congratulate her upon the news of the baby. She had not had time to settle in the eaves of the gatehouse this time; Paega had been brimming, pulling, and tugging.
“Look at all the howses!” The girl had trilled and giggled, and she had been first to see her father come up with Tait along the way. Runa had watched as the man made his rounds, bidding farewell to her parents, to his father, and sister. Elin was nowhere to be seen, a fact Runa was not certain she understood though was certainly grateful for. Then he had turned to Paega, blowing lightly on his horn and drawing the girl to laughter as he allowed her a chance to try herself. “Be good, Tait! You have Wittew Hakawn, wight?” The girl had exclaimed.
Then he had turned to her. It had not been long enough, though Runa wondered if perhaps it ever would be.
Ceolmund had bellowed his call, mustered his men, and the thunder of the hooves was a quake along the plain.
That was when Runa had wept, though her tears were silent, and her fingers drew the water from her cheeks as quickly as they began to fall. “Come awn, Mama Wuna!” Paega exclaimed, tugging harder upon her hand. “Gwampa Amwick says I’m his helpew.”
“Well, then, we certainly don’t want you to be late,” the woman hummed.
The girl gasped. “We’we wate?”
Runa found a small smile, squeezing her hand tighter about the little girl’s hands. “Oh no, little sparrow. You’re not late. Look, and there’s the door.” She could already see her father within through the window along the shop's front. A blessing it was to have him able to watch the spritely girl; though, perhaps her father would enjoy the company.
The bell sounded overhead as the door opened, and Amalric looked up from the counter. "There are my girls," the man sang, skirting around the desk.
"Gwampa Amwick! Mowning agen!" The girl trilled, rushing ahead. "You weady to wowk shoes and boots now? I can help?"
"Well, I sure hope so," Amalric answered, a throaty chuckle rising from his lungs. "I see two hands...and two eyes....and two ears..." The man tapped each in turn, sending a waterfall of giggles into the air, filling the cobbler shop near to the brim with life and sound. "Yes, looks like a good helper to me!"
The morning had begun the same as it had Ceolmund’s last muster. Runa had roused from sleep to her husband’s hands and lips long before the sun was set to rise. Perhaps she hated that her husband would need to leave, though Runa could never have denied how much she had enjoyed the tradition they had started for sending him off.
“Ceol, I—” The woman had started to whisper to him, for though perhaps she had already told him many times that morning how much she loved him with body and word, Runa was not sure she would ever feel she had done so enough. Yet her words stilled, a clamor in the kitchen interrupting her. “Eorl’s flaming knickers,” Runa hissed as she leapt from the bed, seeking to untangle herself from her husband, and wrangle the bed sheet to help wrap haphazardly about her as she threw open the door.
The blonde head of curls looked less golden and more dingy in the silvery moonlight that washed in through the window, though the healer could see very clearly it was no specter in her kitchen. “Paega!” The food arrayed upon the floor was mess enough, but the dishes and pots that the girl had gotten ahold of were rolling about as well.
“Good mowning, Mama Wuna!” The girl had sang, turning about and waving jam-covered fingers. “I’m making bweakyfast fow Papa Coleymond.”
Paega had not understood why Runa had immediately hauled her away, though her mood brightened when Ceolmund had told her she could help him get ready to leave. She had lingered just long enough for Runa to wipe her face and hands before shooting off toward the bedroom as a loosed arrow, leaving her mother with a heap of catch-up to do.
Sausage, rolls, bacon, fruit slices—Runa had worked as quickly as she was able, listening to the sound of her husband and daughter moving about the house. There was a life that it made, one that filled the house far better than the muster past. Into a basket she had wrapped it all and set it upon the table. Her husband had picked at the food as he had moved about, Paega hanging from his limbs at any moment she was able.
Then it was time for Ceolmund to step outside their home; the start of the muster, as far as Runa’s heart was concerned. She had dressed Paega and herself, then set off toward the main gate. Each step she had taken had felt somehow harder, thoughts racing ahead. Ceolmund would be gone from the city, and though her house would not be empty as it was when he had parted from her those weeks ago, Runa’s heart fluttered regardless. The whole of the Hill City knew now of the secret Ceolmund and she had wished to keep a while longer; Elin among them…
The gate had been bustling as the time before, and men whose faces she did not recognized came to congratulate her upon the news of the baby. She had not had time to settle in the eaves of the gatehouse this time; Paega had been brimming, pulling, and tugging.
“Look at all the howses!” The girl had trilled and giggled, and she had been first to see her father come up with Tait along the way. Runa had watched as the man made his rounds, bidding farewell to her parents, to his father, and sister. Elin was nowhere to be seen, a fact Runa was not certain she understood though was certainly grateful for. Then he had turned to Paega, blowing lightly on his horn and drawing the girl to laughter as he allowed her a chance to try herself. “Be good, Tait! You have Wittew Hakawn, wight?” The girl had exclaimed.
Then he had turned to her. It had not been long enough, though Runa wondered if perhaps it ever would be.
Ceolmund had bellowed his call, mustered his men, and the thunder of the hooves was a quake along the plain.
That was when Runa had wept, though her tears were silent, and her fingers drew the water from her cheeks as quickly as they began to fall. “Come awn, Mama Wuna!” Paega exclaimed, tugging harder upon her hand. “Gwampa Amwick says I’m his helpew.”
“Well, then, we certainly don’t want you to be late,” the woman hummed.
The girl gasped. “We’we wate?”
Runa found a small smile, squeezing her hand tighter about the little girl’s hands. “Oh no, little sparrow. You’re not late. Look, and there’s the door.” She could already see her father within through the window along the shop's front. A blessing it was to have him able to watch the spritely girl; though, perhaps her father would enjoy the company.
The bell sounded overhead as the door opened, and Amalric looked up from the counter. "There are my girls," the man sang, skirting around the desk.
"Gwampa Amwick! Mowning agen!" The girl trilled, rushing ahead. "You weady to wowk shoes and boots now? I can help?"
"Well, I sure hope so," Amalric answered, a throaty chuckle rising from his lungs. "I see two hands...and two eyes....and two ears..." The man tapped each in turn, sending a waterfall of giggles into the air, filling the cobbler shop near to the brim with life and sound. "Yes, looks like a good helper to me!"