Knife and All (May 2994) - [Ceolmund]
Jan 30, 2018 21:33:43 GMT -5
Post by Runa on Jan 30, 2018 21:33:43 GMT -5
“Bear! Bear, look!”
Runa’s crystalline voice called pleasantly as she twirled the knife in her hand, first one way, and then the other. Her face was bright as the sunlight that was shining overhead, and she looked to the figure walking a few paces ahead excitedly.
Beorhtric was laden with a sword, shield, and axe, and even so pressed upon by his belongings, was sweeping his way forward. He could hear the patter of his sisters’ feet as she trailed behind him, speeding up now as she jogged to catch up to his side.
“Did you see?” She asked, her voice eager.
“Runi, I am busy,” Beorhtric sighed. He glanced to her, his blue eyes almost dismissive before he turned back to the pathway. Ahead the fence of the training grounds was rising, and he could see the plethora of trainees there he was set to join that day. It looked like they were milling about still; Bear was not surprised. He was used to being early to all shifts. With a small breath like a sigh he adjusted the shield as it was slung over his shoulder.
“I can do it now, look!” Runa once more twirled the knife, giggling happily. Ceolmund had taught her, and told her to practice—and practice she had. Daily, nightly—it had been hard over the past week to find a time the girl was not engrossed into learning the maneuver. She had worked every day since Ceolmund had stepped foot inside and she had met him, and each morning and afternoon the girl’s eyes seemed tethered to the doorway every time it swung open. She had hoped he would come back, perhaps for more boswellia tonic, and she could show him the progress she had made. He had not come, though.
Inside, Runa knew she should be happy he had not needed to come back, though after the way his mother had treated him, she wondered if he would come back if he needed to.
“Runi, knives aren’t for little girls to play with,” Bear sighed, his voice strained. It seemed these days it was all he said to the bright star of the home; the young man, now a striking young man of eighteen summers, could not fathom why his parents let his dear sister run around with the weapons she did. Even now, the longknife she had been gifted on her Name Day two weeks previous was proudly hooked to her belt as she skittered along beside him.
“Ceol said if I try hard I can be a shield-maiden! See, it’s not just Uncle Tor and Uncle Brand who think so,” the girl countered with a cluck of her tongue. She and her brother often played this dance. She did not mind; he helped spar with her sometimes regardless of his feelings on the matter of her swordsmanship, and encouraged her in almost all other ways. Her new needlepoint was almost done, and Runa had in mind to give it to her brother as a congratulations on being swept up for training with the new Eored recruits.
“You don’t need to be a shield-maiden, Runi. You’re a lady of comfort in a city with walls,” Beorhtric pressed. “That’s why I am going to learn, so you can do the things that are proper for little girls.”
“I’m not that little,” Runa countered with a small pout. Once again, the knife twirled through her fingers.
No. She was not the little girl he remembered. The little toddler with the hair of golden strands, eyes like sapphires polished fresh. For a moment, Bear’s face fell. The girl had not even been able to say his name, but she had wanted to call to him so, she found one for him. He looked now to the gangly figure beside him with a soft sadness. She was growing. Soon she would be looking for a husband, and Beorhtric had every intention of helping her settle with the right, proper match that would only give the world to his sister.
Perhaps he never said so, but the girl was his greatest light.
Ahead, the boys’ voices were beginning to amass. Beorhtric’s heart fell uncomfortably as he approached the fence, eyeing the younger teens inside. They were comfortably outfitted, milling about in wait for the captain. His eyes coursed over them. None looked to be near his age. Though, there was a taller figure along the side. His arm was hurt, though perhaps this one, too, was a recruit more like him.
Runa’s eyes had been gazing the same as her brother’s, though where Bear felt discomfort, his young sister saw only older boys who reminded her of her brother well enough. One form in particular, though, caught her eye. She gasped, grasping Beorhtric’s hand and beginning to haul him down the fenceline. “Ceol! Ceol!” She was waving exuberantly, knife and all. “Bear, this is my friend Ceol! The one who taught me the twirling trick,” she simpered as she planted herself and looked up toward Bear.
“So you’re the one,” he observed, though found a smile for him. The young boy, for indeed he was younger than Beorhtric had thought simply by look of the face, probably had not considered how aptly his young Runi would pick it up and cling to it. The motion was genteel, and Bear extended his hand, mindful of the young man’s sling. “My sister has near spoken of you every day since your visit to the hall.”
“He’s a member of the Eored, too!” Runa preened to her brother with a grin. “Is your arm feeling better?” She asked, turning back toward Ceolmund and sending her hair fanning.
Runa’s crystalline voice called pleasantly as she twirled the knife in her hand, first one way, and then the other. Her face was bright as the sunlight that was shining overhead, and she looked to the figure walking a few paces ahead excitedly.
Beorhtric was laden with a sword, shield, and axe, and even so pressed upon by his belongings, was sweeping his way forward. He could hear the patter of his sisters’ feet as she trailed behind him, speeding up now as she jogged to catch up to his side.
“Did you see?” She asked, her voice eager.
“Runi, I am busy,” Beorhtric sighed. He glanced to her, his blue eyes almost dismissive before he turned back to the pathway. Ahead the fence of the training grounds was rising, and he could see the plethora of trainees there he was set to join that day. It looked like they were milling about still; Bear was not surprised. He was used to being early to all shifts. With a small breath like a sigh he adjusted the shield as it was slung over his shoulder.
“I can do it now, look!” Runa once more twirled the knife, giggling happily. Ceolmund had taught her, and told her to practice—and practice she had. Daily, nightly—it had been hard over the past week to find a time the girl was not engrossed into learning the maneuver. She had worked every day since Ceolmund had stepped foot inside and she had met him, and each morning and afternoon the girl’s eyes seemed tethered to the doorway every time it swung open. She had hoped he would come back, perhaps for more boswellia tonic, and she could show him the progress she had made. He had not come, though.
Inside, Runa knew she should be happy he had not needed to come back, though after the way his mother had treated him, she wondered if he would come back if he needed to.
“Runi, knives aren’t for little girls to play with,” Bear sighed, his voice strained. It seemed these days it was all he said to the bright star of the home; the young man, now a striking young man of eighteen summers, could not fathom why his parents let his dear sister run around with the weapons she did. Even now, the longknife she had been gifted on her Name Day two weeks previous was proudly hooked to her belt as she skittered along beside him.
“Ceol said if I try hard I can be a shield-maiden! See, it’s not just Uncle Tor and Uncle Brand who think so,” the girl countered with a cluck of her tongue. She and her brother often played this dance. She did not mind; he helped spar with her sometimes regardless of his feelings on the matter of her swordsmanship, and encouraged her in almost all other ways. Her new needlepoint was almost done, and Runa had in mind to give it to her brother as a congratulations on being swept up for training with the new Eored recruits.
“You don’t need to be a shield-maiden, Runi. You’re a lady of comfort in a city with walls,” Beorhtric pressed. “That’s why I am going to learn, so you can do the things that are proper for little girls.”
“I’m not that little,” Runa countered with a small pout. Once again, the knife twirled through her fingers.
No. She was not the little girl he remembered. The little toddler with the hair of golden strands, eyes like sapphires polished fresh. For a moment, Bear’s face fell. The girl had not even been able to say his name, but she had wanted to call to him so, she found one for him. He looked now to the gangly figure beside him with a soft sadness. She was growing. Soon she would be looking for a husband, and Beorhtric had every intention of helping her settle with the right, proper match that would only give the world to his sister.
Perhaps he never said so, but the girl was his greatest light.
Ahead, the boys’ voices were beginning to amass. Beorhtric’s heart fell uncomfortably as he approached the fence, eyeing the younger teens inside. They were comfortably outfitted, milling about in wait for the captain. His eyes coursed over them. None looked to be near his age. Though, there was a taller figure along the side. His arm was hurt, though perhaps this one, too, was a recruit more like him.
Runa’s eyes had been gazing the same as her brother’s, though where Bear felt discomfort, his young sister saw only older boys who reminded her of her brother well enough. One form in particular, though, caught her eye. She gasped, grasping Beorhtric’s hand and beginning to haul him down the fenceline. “Ceol! Ceol!” She was waving exuberantly, knife and all. “Bear, this is my friend Ceol! The one who taught me the twirling trick,” she simpered as she planted herself and looked up toward Bear.
“So you’re the one,” he observed, though found a smile for him. The young boy, for indeed he was younger than Beorhtric had thought simply by look of the face, probably had not considered how aptly his young Runi would pick it up and cling to it. The motion was genteel, and Bear extended his hand, mindful of the young man’s sling. “My sister has near spoken of you every day since your visit to the hall.”
“He’s a member of the Eored, too!” Runa preened to her brother with a grin. “Is your arm feeling better?” She asked, turning back toward Ceolmund and sending her hair fanning.