Unwanted Presents (September 2982) - [Ceolmund] (CW)
Jan 6, 2018 20:51:44 GMT -5
Post by Runa on Jan 6, 2018 20:51:44 GMT -5
“She does wemembew. Do you wemembew the fawies too, Wuna? The ones we saw on Bewtane?”
The baby babbled, eyes intent on Ceolmund as her chubby hand gripped at his blonde hair, his ear and came close to poking him in the eye. Hildred was able to divert the last one, though Ceolmund seemed to enjoy the rest and she did not wish to intervene.
“Oh, I am sure she remembers the faeries,” Hildred hummed.
Beorhtric, though, frowned. “But she was in your belly. She wasn’t even here,” he interjected matter-of-factly, as if his mother had forgotten that Runa had not come until after. She had tried to come on the plain, after mean Elin had yelled and made a scene. Perhaps Mama and Ceolmund were confused.
“She was,” Hildred agreed. “But she felt the faeries, I’m sure. She helped us find them to begin with, hm, Ceol?” She smiled to him, and as if to accentuate her mother’s point, Runa squealed shrilly. Beorhtric merely frowned, unsure how much of that he believed. Sunnifa and he, after all, had not seen the faeries at all. Perhaps Ceolmund was playing his make-pretend again.
“Look at that drool. It's a good thing you got the apple to her today. Tooth is going to pop through any day I think. That Dunlending merchant has been down at the market this past week. You should get a wolf's tooth from him. Wear it around the neck to cut the pain.”
“I wouldn't trust that Dunlending with a ten foot stick. Clove oil is all you need for the gums, of course, you've been through it with Beorthric. It'll help with those molars that come later for him too.”
“I appreciate your input, Cynburga, truly, but I am inclined to agree with Dagny on this one,” Hildred offered. “That Dunlending merchant probably needs a longer stick than teen feet.” Her face fell into a rather grim line for a moment. The last time he had been in the market, the attention he and his wife had paid to the children had sent enough shivers running down her spine that Beorhtric had been kept in an iron locked grip the entire time they were within sight of the cart and fake remedies he carried. Hildred could not imagine who would believe such things were actual healing treatments, though Cynburga shuttled by and she realized she in fact could imagine such a one. Hildred sighed.
“The brains of a hare work just as well, and less expensive. I might buy one from the market this week, I'll bring the brain to your house, Hildred. Never use the whole thing in the stew anyway. Just make a paste and apply it to the gums.”
Hildred’s lips pressed together and brow furrowed. She knew there was no way to prevent the woman from showing up at her doorstep with the hare brains, though the thought was nearly revolting enough to make the woman pleased she had not chosen the mincemeat pie. It was, truly, a hare-brained idea. Hildred considered uttering such a thing aloud, though mused Cynburga would not find the comment as humorous as she did herself. “Please, Cynburga, don’t trouble yourself. We have plenty of clove oil, and it doesn’t taste nearly as foul, I’m certain.”
Runa herself look disgusted, and she pointed to the woman as she maneuvered about and cried out in short, loud spurts.
“Next year, we'll see which one Runa picks on your Name Day, hm? She has a little personality already; probably already knows what she likes. Come on, let's have a bit of pie while it's still warm.”
“Probably pumpkin,” Beorhtric reasoned. It was mother’s favorite, and Grandmother Ishild so often remarked on how much little Runa was just like her when she was small.
“Wuna likes honey cake. Don't you, Wuna?”
“Mmm, honey cake,” Hildred hummed. “That must’ve been where those cravings came from. Certainly ate that plenty for her.” The woman laughed faintly, about to move to stand and usher the small gathered group toward the table for food when Ceolmund turned to her with a face so serious, it did not look as if it belonged on a boy his age—least of all on a Name Day.
“I want to go home with you. Sunni said you wied.”
“It's all right, Ceol. It wasn't a lie, I'm sure.”
Hildred gasped, her free arm once more snaking around the little boy as he pressed his nose to her cheek. She was glad for the way he was near, for he could not see the flash of pain upon her face that stemmed from her heart. “I…I can see why Sunni thought it was a lie,” Hildred whispered, looking for a moment to the girl across the room. Beorhtric frowned to Sunnifa himself. “I…I want to take you both home, too. More than anything, sweetheart. Your…your Papa, though, he changed his mind. He…he wanted to keep you instead.” She did not know how much she could explain, though her wound prompted her to say something. Eorl’s mercy, did they think she had not wanted them? No wonder Sunnifa was cross with her today, unable to look at her, and wearing a voice so mournful poets would have sung of it.
“I came by your new house almost every day—but I didn’t see you,” Hildred added. Her hand was rubbing up and down the little boy’s back, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “But that’s all right now. Because I see you and your sister right here.”
Runa leaned in again, giving Ceolmund a kiss on his other cheek, though it was more akin to faceplant to his skin. She giggled. Her Boy was fun to play with.
“Come, food is getting cold,” Hildred forced a smile and stood, patting the boy toward the table, though fell still herself for a moment unable to bring her feet to move. Dagny, it seemed, caught her mournful expression, and she and Cynburga both spoke.
“They're just confused. Too young to understand...”
“We can't control what our own children do once they're out of our homes. They either take the advice or leave it.”
“I tried,” Hildred whispered to them. “I’m still trying. I won’t rest, Dagny, I swear it. I just…don’t know how to make them understand.” Beorhtric appeared at her hip, blue eyes peering up at her with a familiar concern in his face.
“It’s okay, Mama,” he said to her, quietly. “I know Sunni’s wrong. You yelled at Elin to leave them alone. I remember.”
Hildred stroked her sons hair a moment, a small, weary smile upon her lips. “Go on, sweetheart. Have your pies—don’t want them to get cold. And what do you say?”
“Oh! I almost forgot!” He turned to Dagny and offered a musical, “Thank you for the meal, Miss Dagny!” Then, he skittered for the table, Hildred moving along behind.
"And it seems I almost forgot something as well," Hildred grinned, reaching into the basket that was yet hanging on the crook of her arm. Inside the mugcakes were waiting for after dinner, but there was something special inside as well. A carrot, bright and cheery orange. She handed it to Ceolmund. "For Hakon, for his Name Day, too."
The baby babbled, eyes intent on Ceolmund as her chubby hand gripped at his blonde hair, his ear and came close to poking him in the eye. Hildred was able to divert the last one, though Ceolmund seemed to enjoy the rest and she did not wish to intervene.
“Oh, I am sure she remembers the faeries,” Hildred hummed.
Beorhtric, though, frowned. “But she was in your belly. She wasn’t even here,” he interjected matter-of-factly, as if his mother had forgotten that Runa had not come until after. She had tried to come on the plain, after mean Elin had yelled and made a scene. Perhaps Mama and Ceolmund were confused.
“She was,” Hildred agreed. “But she felt the faeries, I’m sure. She helped us find them to begin with, hm, Ceol?” She smiled to him, and as if to accentuate her mother’s point, Runa squealed shrilly. Beorhtric merely frowned, unsure how much of that he believed. Sunnifa and he, after all, had not seen the faeries at all. Perhaps Ceolmund was playing his make-pretend again.
“Look at that drool. It's a good thing you got the apple to her today. Tooth is going to pop through any day I think. That Dunlending merchant has been down at the market this past week. You should get a wolf's tooth from him. Wear it around the neck to cut the pain.”
“I wouldn't trust that Dunlending with a ten foot stick. Clove oil is all you need for the gums, of course, you've been through it with Beorthric. It'll help with those molars that come later for him too.”
“I appreciate your input, Cynburga, truly, but I am inclined to agree with Dagny on this one,” Hildred offered. “That Dunlending merchant probably needs a longer stick than teen feet.” Her face fell into a rather grim line for a moment. The last time he had been in the market, the attention he and his wife had paid to the children had sent enough shivers running down her spine that Beorhtric had been kept in an iron locked grip the entire time they were within sight of the cart and fake remedies he carried. Hildred could not imagine who would believe such things were actual healing treatments, though Cynburga shuttled by and she realized she in fact could imagine such a one. Hildred sighed.
“The brains of a hare work just as well, and less expensive. I might buy one from the market this week, I'll bring the brain to your house, Hildred. Never use the whole thing in the stew anyway. Just make a paste and apply it to the gums.”
Hildred’s lips pressed together and brow furrowed. She knew there was no way to prevent the woman from showing up at her doorstep with the hare brains, though the thought was nearly revolting enough to make the woman pleased she had not chosen the mincemeat pie. It was, truly, a hare-brained idea. Hildred considered uttering such a thing aloud, though mused Cynburga would not find the comment as humorous as she did herself. “Please, Cynburga, don’t trouble yourself. We have plenty of clove oil, and it doesn’t taste nearly as foul, I’m certain.”
Runa herself look disgusted, and she pointed to the woman as she maneuvered about and cried out in short, loud spurts.
“Next year, we'll see which one Runa picks on your Name Day, hm? She has a little personality already; probably already knows what she likes. Come on, let's have a bit of pie while it's still warm.”
“Probably pumpkin,” Beorhtric reasoned. It was mother’s favorite, and Grandmother Ishild so often remarked on how much little Runa was just like her when she was small.
“Wuna likes honey cake. Don't you, Wuna?”
“Mmm, honey cake,” Hildred hummed. “That must’ve been where those cravings came from. Certainly ate that plenty for her.” The woman laughed faintly, about to move to stand and usher the small gathered group toward the table for food when Ceolmund turned to her with a face so serious, it did not look as if it belonged on a boy his age—least of all on a Name Day.
“I want to go home with you. Sunni said you wied.”
“It's all right, Ceol. It wasn't a lie, I'm sure.”
Hildred gasped, her free arm once more snaking around the little boy as he pressed his nose to her cheek. She was glad for the way he was near, for he could not see the flash of pain upon her face that stemmed from her heart. “I…I can see why Sunni thought it was a lie,” Hildred whispered, looking for a moment to the girl across the room. Beorhtric frowned to Sunnifa himself. “I…I want to take you both home, too. More than anything, sweetheart. Your…your Papa, though, he changed his mind. He…he wanted to keep you instead.” She did not know how much she could explain, though her wound prompted her to say something. Eorl’s mercy, did they think she had not wanted them? No wonder Sunnifa was cross with her today, unable to look at her, and wearing a voice so mournful poets would have sung of it.
“I came by your new house almost every day—but I didn’t see you,” Hildred added. Her hand was rubbing up and down the little boy’s back, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “But that’s all right now. Because I see you and your sister right here.”
Runa leaned in again, giving Ceolmund a kiss on his other cheek, though it was more akin to faceplant to his skin. She giggled. Her Boy was fun to play with.
“Come, food is getting cold,” Hildred forced a smile and stood, patting the boy toward the table, though fell still herself for a moment unable to bring her feet to move. Dagny, it seemed, caught her mournful expression, and she and Cynburga both spoke.
“They're just confused. Too young to understand...”
“We can't control what our own children do once they're out of our homes. They either take the advice or leave it.”
“I tried,” Hildred whispered to them. “I’m still trying. I won’t rest, Dagny, I swear it. I just…don’t know how to make them understand.” Beorhtric appeared at her hip, blue eyes peering up at her with a familiar concern in his face.
“It’s okay, Mama,” he said to her, quietly. “I know Sunni’s wrong. You yelled at Elin to leave them alone. I remember.”
Hildred stroked her sons hair a moment, a small, weary smile upon her lips. “Go on, sweetheart. Have your pies—don’t want them to get cold. And what do you say?”
“Oh! I almost forgot!” He turned to Dagny and offered a musical, “Thank you for the meal, Miss Dagny!” Then, he skittered for the table, Hildred moving along behind.
"And it seems I almost forgot something as well," Hildred grinned, reaching into the basket that was yet hanging on the crook of her arm. Inside the mugcakes were waiting for after dinner, but there was something special inside as well. A carrot, bright and cheery orange. She handed it to Ceolmund. "For Hakon, for his Name Day, too."