Heard it on the Wind
Jun 10, 2018 14:19:42 GMT -5
Post by Ceolmund on Jun 10, 2018 14:19:42 GMT -5
Spring was full upon the land, and Ceolmund had his newly woven family out in the fresh air in daylight. Paega was walking in front of the couple, the gusting wind of the season keeping her from running too far ahead as they trekked uphill toward the markets. Little Tait was held to the breeze in her chubby grasp; a bit of cream colored yarn tied around her neck with a few feet trailing for a 'lead', yet Paega instead held the horse as always and let the yarn fly in the air behind her, whipping like a tail in the breeze.
“Apothecary first,” Ceolmund muttered, glancing down to Runa. They might see if there was some sage to purchase; the last of their bundles were pegged over the windows, and though they were burning less of it these days, it was still not much more than a month since the creature of Dimholt had entered the markets and he was wary. Khamul had entered their home. With both Paega and Runa in the house now, and the baby growing beside, Ceolmund was willing to take no risks.
It was half the reason he was accompanying his wife and the little girl to the markets this day. Ceolmund did not go unarmed about the city on any given day. He had always carried a long knife at his belt, but these days his sword had also become a steady companion even when he was off duty, and he had urged Runa to carry her own long knife as well. Paega merely bore a little bundle of sage tied around her neck as her weapon.
The other half reason was, Ceolmund intended his arms to be used. There were many groceries to fetch. Runa had planned quite a meal for the evening. Her parents would be visiting, and with some misgiving Ceolmund had decided that Beorhtric too would be invited for the news… to let her family know they were expecting a child. He wished Hildred to know, to be aware of such things before his departure.
The news had to be shared now, there was no withstanding a longer wait even if they had wished to do so, for only two nights past Ceolmund had been clearing up the scraps of wood leftover from the chair he had crafted for the little one. Paega had of course been the amount of assistance he had expected, but there had been someone excited to hand him pegs and play with the scraps of wood at his feet, and though the work was slower, he had not minded in the least.
Upon the finishing of the chair, a fine step stool was crafted that his wife could finally put to use the top cabinets in the kitchen. It had also been found to be a stool of suitable height, when Runa had tested it for him, for one to kiss a short wife without needing to bend. The discovery had led to some minutes of Ceolmund forgetting almost all else but his wife as they had stood eye to eye, and mouth to mouth.
“The rest of the wood for the cradle,” Ceolmund had announced to Runa quietly, pulling back to breath. His heart was perhaps filled to bursting.
“I'm a big giwl, I don't need a cwadle,” Paega had protested from below, and Ceolmund's eyes had shot down to see the little one standing near his legs, staring straight up at hem.
“Not.. not for you,” he had answered, almost too quickly, looking down at Paega's curls before his eyes had flown wide back upon Runa's for assistance.
“Oh! A cwadle for my baby?” the little girl had squealed without further response; and she had not been speaking upon a doll.
Ceolmund had been unable to lie.
They had meant to wait; to tell Paega later, when the curve of Runa's lap became prominent and it could not longer be hidden, for though Ceolmund did not wish to admit it, he knew both he and his wife yet held fears. Yet the little lump he could feel in Runa's abdomen was growing, day by day. It was larger than it had been when they had first discovered it a couple weeks past. He was growing. And Runa was healthy, eating well. The chill she had held was completely vanished, and the bruises that had been stark reminders for so long were only faded reminders. By the time he returned from his next muster, they would be gone.
Yet, with the news spread to Paega, it would soon be known by all, and instead of telling Hildred and Amalric in quiet, they had decided to have them over for a nice meal. A celebration of sorts.
As the small family turned into the Apothecary, the bell overhead ringing, and the musty smell of mixed herbs filling the air, Ceolmund felt a tenseness. He was not ready to welcome Runa's brother into the household. Just for the news, he told himself. Seeing him upon the plains, as his Captain, was one thing. But having him back into the home where he had spoken so foul of his marriage… he had not yet forgiven him for that. Nor for the years of manipulations.
“Maybe some lemon balm, too,” he commented aside to Runa. It was rare he took anything beyond his mint tea, but if he could keep his nerves settled before Beorhtric entered his home; at least for Runa's and Paega's sakes, all would be better.
When they entered, Ceolmund was so busy grasping hold of Paega before she knocked into a jar, he did not look up at the herbalist, who called a hello to to them.
“I'll be with you in just a moment, Runa,” the herbalist told the woman; used to the healer coming in weekly with orders for the hall. He was seeing to a fair haired customer at the moment.
“Oh, Runa. Captain. And you must be Paega,” the taller woman said, she too turning to greet them. Wynfled raised a brow at Runa, and then down at Paega who was clutched at the nape of the dress by Ceolmund's hand. It was with relief that Wynfled saw the little girl's hand clutching a toy pony and not a toy sword.
“I'm surprised you are not working at the Hall today,” she commented aside, lifting the jar of lavender petals the herbalist had brought forth to her nose and wafting the scent. Her face went placid for a moment, closing her eyes, and then her lips turned down in frown.
“Do you have anything fresher?” she commented to the herbalist. “They smell as if they've been stale on the shelf all winter.”
“These are of last autumn,” the herbalist gave dry answer. “The new has not yet sprouted, so it is the freshest you'll find this time of year.”
“Hm...” Wynfled hummed. “Oh, do go ahead of me, Runa,” Wynfled commented stepping to the side. “I'm still deciding. You look as if you're in a rush,” she noted; her voice sickly sweet as she took in the rather windswept appearance of the shorter woman. “Only three days until our husbands head back to the plains. Whatever will you do without his help with the little one?” Wynfled asked, half a smile on her face.
“Apothecary first,” Ceolmund muttered, glancing down to Runa. They might see if there was some sage to purchase; the last of their bundles were pegged over the windows, and though they were burning less of it these days, it was still not much more than a month since the creature of Dimholt had entered the markets and he was wary. Khamul had entered their home. With both Paega and Runa in the house now, and the baby growing beside, Ceolmund was willing to take no risks.
It was half the reason he was accompanying his wife and the little girl to the markets this day. Ceolmund did not go unarmed about the city on any given day. He had always carried a long knife at his belt, but these days his sword had also become a steady companion even when he was off duty, and he had urged Runa to carry her own long knife as well. Paega merely bore a little bundle of sage tied around her neck as her weapon.
The other half reason was, Ceolmund intended his arms to be used. There were many groceries to fetch. Runa had planned quite a meal for the evening. Her parents would be visiting, and with some misgiving Ceolmund had decided that Beorhtric too would be invited for the news… to let her family know they were expecting a child. He wished Hildred to know, to be aware of such things before his departure.
The news had to be shared now, there was no withstanding a longer wait even if they had wished to do so, for only two nights past Ceolmund had been clearing up the scraps of wood leftover from the chair he had crafted for the little one. Paega had of course been the amount of assistance he had expected, but there had been someone excited to hand him pegs and play with the scraps of wood at his feet, and though the work was slower, he had not minded in the least.
Upon the finishing of the chair, a fine step stool was crafted that his wife could finally put to use the top cabinets in the kitchen. It had also been found to be a stool of suitable height, when Runa had tested it for him, for one to kiss a short wife without needing to bend. The discovery had led to some minutes of Ceolmund forgetting almost all else but his wife as they had stood eye to eye, and mouth to mouth.
“The rest of the wood for the cradle,” Ceolmund had announced to Runa quietly, pulling back to breath. His heart was perhaps filled to bursting.
“I'm a big giwl, I don't need a cwadle,” Paega had protested from below, and Ceolmund's eyes had shot down to see the little one standing near his legs, staring straight up at hem.
“Not.. not for you,” he had answered, almost too quickly, looking down at Paega's curls before his eyes had flown wide back upon Runa's for assistance.
“Oh! A cwadle for my baby?” the little girl had squealed without further response; and she had not been speaking upon a doll.
Ceolmund had been unable to lie.
They had meant to wait; to tell Paega later, when the curve of Runa's lap became prominent and it could not longer be hidden, for though Ceolmund did not wish to admit it, he knew both he and his wife yet held fears. Yet the little lump he could feel in Runa's abdomen was growing, day by day. It was larger than it had been when they had first discovered it a couple weeks past. He was growing. And Runa was healthy, eating well. The chill she had held was completely vanished, and the bruises that had been stark reminders for so long were only faded reminders. By the time he returned from his next muster, they would be gone.
Yet, with the news spread to Paega, it would soon be known by all, and instead of telling Hildred and Amalric in quiet, they had decided to have them over for a nice meal. A celebration of sorts.
As the small family turned into the Apothecary, the bell overhead ringing, and the musty smell of mixed herbs filling the air, Ceolmund felt a tenseness. He was not ready to welcome Runa's brother into the household. Just for the news, he told himself. Seeing him upon the plains, as his Captain, was one thing. But having him back into the home where he had spoken so foul of his marriage… he had not yet forgiven him for that. Nor for the years of manipulations.
“Maybe some lemon balm, too,” he commented aside to Runa. It was rare he took anything beyond his mint tea, but if he could keep his nerves settled before Beorhtric entered his home; at least for Runa's and Paega's sakes, all would be better.
When they entered, Ceolmund was so busy grasping hold of Paega before she knocked into a jar, he did not look up at the herbalist, who called a hello to to them.
“I'll be with you in just a moment, Runa,” the herbalist told the woman; used to the healer coming in weekly with orders for the hall. He was seeing to a fair haired customer at the moment.
“Oh, Runa. Captain. And you must be Paega,” the taller woman said, she too turning to greet them. Wynfled raised a brow at Runa, and then down at Paega who was clutched at the nape of the dress by Ceolmund's hand. It was with relief that Wynfled saw the little girl's hand clutching a toy pony and not a toy sword.
“I'm surprised you are not working at the Hall today,” she commented aside, lifting the jar of lavender petals the herbalist had brought forth to her nose and wafting the scent. Her face went placid for a moment, closing her eyes, and then her lips turned down in frown.
“Do you have anything fresher?” she commented to the herbalist. “They smell as if they've been stale on the shelf all winter.”
“These are of last autumn,” the herbalist gave dry answer. “The new has not yet sprouted, so it is the freshest you'll find this time of year.”
“Hm...” Wynfled hummed. “Oh, do go ahead of me, Runa,” Wynfled commented stepping to the side. “I'm still deciding. You look as if you're in a rush,” she noted; her voice sickly sweet as she took in the rather windswept appearance of the shorter woman. “Only three days until our husbands head back to the plains. Whatever will you do without his help with the little one?” Wynfled asked, half a smile on her face.