An Outing to the Market (December 3010)
Nov 4, 2017 9:20:44 GMT -5
Post by Ceolmund on Nov 4, 2017 9:20:44 GMT -5
Ceolmund glared at Eothain when he raised his voice at Runa. How dare anyone speak to his wife in that tone of voice. She was, in Ceolmund's mind, the kindest person in all of Edoras, caring for those injured and wounded with such devotion. Yes, she would defend her patients against any wrongdoings of not only physical threat, but emotional. Paega had not only been one of the patient's she had brought back from death's door herself, but now her child. Ceolmund was about to have a word himself, though he stilled himself to not upset his daughter further, and Runa had done well and left the room with her before the adults made any further mishaps.
It seemed that among all the tempers in the room the elf was the one to keep his demeanour; for his voice never once changed in tone, and he seemed to know exactly what to say to each person present. Ceolmund was impressed. Upon first glance the elf looked much younger than himself; though he spoke with wisdom, and his eyes held years.
“Yes, my Lord,” Ceolmund answered, suddenly, his mind had been distracted and he felt almost as if he had been given a command by the Marshal of the Mark himself. He would go see to Runa and Paega. Surely he would be able to settle them. He would do better with her, than he would in speaking with Eothain while his temper was flared.
The man moved toward the back of the room, though stopped for just a moment to stoop over Hildred and Eormund, and look to see that the baby had not been disturbed in the shouting. The infant's eyes were closed, though his lips were pursed and tiny brow furrowed, and Ceolmund touched his cheek gently. The baby made a soft squeak and turned his face, his little pink lips wrapping about the man's littlest finger and beginning to suck heavily upon it.
“Oh, now you've done it,” Lady Agathe commented.
Ceolmund frowned and tried to slowly take the finger back, though each attempt had the child begin sucking more desperately, and starting to fuss. The man looked toward the doorway his wife had gone through, though now he was trapped by the infant. He knew the second his hand was out of Eormund's mouth that babe would be screaming and demanding milk.
“I always say, you should carry a chunk of pig fat with you; stick it in his mouth and he'll have no need to protest!” Cynburga bustled about, looking through her basket. She had just the thing from the butcher's shop, and she waddled across the room, and in an instant had removed Ceolmund's finger from Eormund's mouth, and popped the strip of fat right in. Eormund whined for just a second, his eyelids fluttering, but then began sucking heavily once more.
“Little one likes a teat!” Lady Agathe crooned amusedly.
“Just like his father,” Cynburga clucked, and brushed her hands together in accomplishment.
Ceolmund's eyes shot to Cynburga's and the color rose in his face, though the old woman was paying him no mind now. He cleared his throat glancing about the room to the other face's eyeing him, and headed once more toward the back room.
“Runa,” he said lightly and he came down the step and found the back door shutting in front of them. He followed her out, and the vast difference between the heat of all the bodies in the cobbler shop and the cold December air caused him to shiver
“Paega,” he hummed, trying for the little girl first. Runa's brow was furrowed, but Paega's cheeks were tear streaked. She hated conflict of any sort and a raised voice would set that child to tears in a snap. He did not blame her though, for he had been disturbed as well. “Don't worry, sweetie, Master Adanedhel, has calmed everyone down inside. And then your little brother brother played a joke on me.” He brought the both of them into his arms together, both wishing to comfort, as well as shield them from the shock of the wind.
“He had no right,” Ceolmund whispered near Runa's ear, that she would know he had not thought her hasty, though he was not going to discuss the matter in front of Paega. He pressed a kiss to Runa's forehead, and then to Paega's, though he had a gleam in his eye as he moved for his daughter, and tickled her with his bear.
It seemed that among all the tempers in the room the elf was the one to keep his demeanour; for his voice never once changed in tone, and he seemed to know exactly what to say to each person present. Ceolmund was impressed. Upon first glance the elf looked much younger than himself; though he spoke with wisdom, and his eyes held years.
“Yes, my Lord,” Ceolmund answered, suddenly, his mind had been distracted and he felt almost as if he had been given a command by the Marshal of the Mark himself. He would go see to Runa and Paega. Surely he would be able to settle them. He would do better with her, than he would in speaking with Eothain while his temper was flared.
The man moved toward the back of the room, though stopped for just a moment to stoop over Hildred and Eormund, and look to see that the baby had not been disturbed in the shouting. The infant's eyes were closed, though his lips were pursed and tiny brow furrowed, and Ceolmund touched his cheek gently. The baby made a soft squeak and turned his face, his little pink lips wrapping about the man's littlest finger and beginning to suck heavily upon it.
“Oh, now you've done it,” Lady Agathe commented.
Ceolmund frowned and tried to slowly take the finger back, though each attempt had the child begin sucking more desperately, and starting to fuss. The man looked toward the doorway his wife had gone through, though now he was trapped by the infant. He knew the second his hand was out of Eormund's mouth that babe would be screaming and demanding milk.
“I always say, you should carry a chunk of pig fat with you; stick it in his mouth and he'll have no need to protest!” Cynburga bustled about, looking through her basket. She had just the thing from the butcher's shop, and she waddled across the room, and in an instant had removed Ceolmund's finger from Eormund's mouth, and popped the strip of fat right in. Eormund whined for just a second, his eyelids fluttering, but then began sucking heavily once more.
“Little one likes a teat!” Lady Agathe crooned amusedly.
“Just like his father,” Cynburga clucked, and brushed her hands together in accomplishment.
Ceolmund's eyes shot to Cynburga's and the color rose in his face, though the old woman was paying him no mind now. He cleared his throat glancing about the room to the other face's eyeing him, and headed once more toward the back room.
“Runa,” he said lightly and he came down the step and found the back door shutting in front of them. He followed her out, and the vast difference between the heat of all the bodies in the cobbler shop and the cold December air caused him to shiver
“Paega,” he hummed, trying for the little girl first. Runa's brow was furrowed, but Paega's cheeks were tear streaked. She hated conflict of any sort and a raised voice would set that child to tears in a snap. He did not blame her though, for he had been disturbed as well. “Don't worry, sweetie, Master Adanedhel, has calmed everyone down inside. And then your little brother brother played a joke on me.” He brought the both of them into his arms together, both wishing to comfort, as well as shield them from the shock of the wind.
“He had no right,” Ceolmund whispered near Runa's ear, that she would know he had not thought her hasty, though he was not going to discuss the matter in front of Paega. He pressed a kiss to Runa's forehead, and then to Paega's, though he had a gleam in his eye as he moved for his daughter, and tickled her with his bear.