Name Day Flowers (May 2982) - [Ceolmund] (CW)
Dec 10, 2017 22:52:47 GMT -5
Post by Runa on Dec 10, 2017 22:52:47 GMT -5
“I'm not worried about how gentle he is with it. Too gentle for my liking. He's a boy. He shouldn't be dealing with babies. Don't touch it, Ceolmund.”
Ceolmund pulled back and away from the baby, and as he did Runa’s small hand reached for him, face scrunching and a single whine sounding from her little lips. Hildred frowned at Elin. “Too gentle? And what is wrong with gentle?” Every boy could be a father one day; learning to love and handle babies was not something that was weakness, it was strength, and it was nothing for Ceolmund to think was wrong.
Hildred bounced Runa lightly, trying to quell her coming tears, but Amalric set a hand upon Ceolmund’s head, ruffling his hair in a fatherly motion, his own blue eyes biting into Elin with a firm glower. “Call my daughter an ‘it’ one more time, Elin, and I will ask you to leave. Her Nameday deserves pleasant things.”
“Hewdwed says I'm a good boy?”
“Of course you are, Ceol,” Hildred assured him with a big smile for him, she shot Torsten a withering look and the large man clamped his lips together in shame, realizing only then that perhaps his words were not so easily understood by such a young child.
“Ah, Ceol, I know you’re a good lad,” Torsten offered next, drawing a smile back to his face, pacing to the cookie table and plucking one up from the platter to pace back to the little boy, extending it to him. “My job as an uncle is to say things like that, though. You know why?” He paused, though continued without needing Ceolmund’s prodding. “Because there are people out there who aren’t as fine a lad as you and Beorhtric are, and they may want to hurt Runa just because she’s pretty. We can’t have that.”
“If I'm good I can use a swowd?”
“Of course!” Brandr offered brightly. “I even think I’ve got a wooden practice sword around here somewhere…”
“He won't be learning a sword! Don't say things like that to him. You'll learn how to make bows like your Father.”
“No reason he can’t learn both,” Amalric said firmly.
“Torsten and I learned shoemaking, too,” Brandr laughed. “Can’t say we were as good as Ric ever was, but—”
“It’s come in handy a few times on the plain,” Torsten laughed. “Bet bowyer work would be a nice skill for the Eored, too.”
“Probably more useful than shoe repairs,” Brand grinned.
Elin wandered back to the table with the mead, and Amalric sighed irritably. “The mead was a bad idea,” he grumbled.
Hildred was inclined to agree.
"Wuna, When you'w big enough to wawk, we can go find the fawies. You know whewe to find them.”
The baby made a squeaking sound as if in agreement, and her eyes fluttered once more.
Still, she dropped her blue eyes to Ceolmund, drawing a smile for him. He had been so happy; to see him once more huddled and distressed broke her heart. “Since you’re such a good boy,” Hildred started, tapping a finger lightly on his nose to make the boy smile once more. “I think it would be all right for you to hold Runa! Would you like that, sweetheart?” She asked.
Ceolmund pulled back and away from the baby, and as he did Runa’s small hand reached for him, face scrunching and a single whine sounding from her little lips. Hildred frowned at Elin. “Too gentle? And what is wrong with gentle?” Every boy could be a father one day; learning to love and handle babies was not something that was weakness, it was strength, and it was nothing for Ceolmund to think was wrong.
Hildred bounced Runa lightly, trying to quell her coming tears, but Amalric set a hand upon Ceolmund’s head, ruffling his hair in a fatherly motion, his own blue eyes biting into Elin with a firm glower. “Call my daughter an ‘it’ one more time, Elin, and I will ask you to leave. Her Nameday deserves pleasant things.”
“Hewdwed says I'm a good boy?”
“Of course you are, Ceol,” Hildred assured him with a big smile for him, she shot Torsten a withering look and the large man clamped his lips together in shame, realizing only then that perhaps his words were not so easily understood by such a young child.
“Ah, Ceol, I know you’re a good lad,” Torsten offered next, drawing a smile back to his face, pacing to the cookie table and plucking one up from the platter to pace back to the little boy, extending it to him. “My job as an uncle is to say things like that, though. You know why?” He paused, though continued without needing Ceolmund’s prodding. “Because there are people out there who aren’t as fine a lad as you and Beorhtric are, and they may want to hurt Runa just because she’s pretty. We can’t have that.”
“If I'm good I can use a swowd?”
“Of course!” Brandr offered brightly. “I even think I’ve got a wooden practice sword around here somewhere…”
“He won't be learning a sword! Don't say things like that to him. You'll learn how to make bows like your Father.”
“No reason he can’t learn both,” Amalric said firmly.
“Torsten and I learned shoemaking, too,” Brandr laughed. “Can’t say we were as good as Ric ever was, but—”
“It’s come in handy a few times on the plain,” Torsten laughed. “Bet bowyer work would be a nice skill for the Eored, too.”
“Probably more useful than shoe repairs,” Brand grinned.
Elin wandered back to the table with the mead, and Amalric sighed irritably. “The mead was a bad idea,” he grumbled.
Hildred was inclined to agree.
"Wuna, When you'w big enough to wawk, we can go find the fawies. You know whewe to find them.”
The baby made a squeaking sound as if in agreement, and her eyes fluttered once more.
Still, she dropped her blue eyes to Ceolmund, drawing a smile for him. He had been so happy; to see him once more huddled and distressed broke her heart. “Since you’re such a good boy,” Hildred started, tapping a finger lightly on his nose to make the boy smile once more. “I think it would be all right for you to hold Runa! Would you like that, sweetheart?” She asked.