Winter Chill (February 3010) [Runa]
Feb 26, 2018 17:46:22 GMT -5
Post by Léoma on Feb 26, 2018 17:46:22 GMT -5
Keeping silent, though smiling, Léoma worked through her food as Amalric and Runa gave talk on the birds and the wedding feast that they had. The story sounded amusing enough, and she wondered at the father's words on Runa's expression. Like ice? Surely the young woman had wished for marriage; it seemed a wish of all woman, and having seen her about for years with Ceolmund it would not have been a surprise. Even Léoma had felt the longing in her past, though nothing had come of it, and she was now beyond years for a family. She had kidded herself for the thought that she ever could have cared for one… even with… She took a deep breath, and another bite of her food, willing not the man's name to come again to her thoughts. It had been so long ago, and he had not loved her in return. Only as friends. She had been foolish to think else wise, and even more absurd to have told him, though she now knew better.
“Papa.” Perhaps the topic was uncomfortable, for Léoma could read faces well and saw Runa's embarrassment at her Father's story, so she said no more on it.
“When autumn comes...” she answered, “I would be glad to show you. Fresh apples are wonderful as is in September, but when you open a jar of them in February… a taste of summer in the middle of winter, there is hardly a thing better.” She was glad to be eating even as she spoke, for Léoma was not sure she could have beared to speak on food in such a way as hungry as she had been.
She wished she had a jar of the apple butter now, for she was going to have to grind the chicken's grit down to flour in the handmill; that would take a time, but not be so troubling. A mix of ground corn and water would make a filling, though tasteless meal. It would taste a King's feast however with something such as the apple butter to top it. Even though they had grown up poor through her youth, her Mother always had something hiding in the cabinet to make them taste the sweetness of summer during hard times.
“Well, I hope they are. Mittens, for a little girl under my charge.”
“Paega has mittens. Saw Cynburga in here herself with those needles of hers, telling me the girl needed more warmth.”
“Yes, she has those mittens. Ceol says Cynburga forbid him from letting her play with a sword in them, though. So I thought I would get her a second pair made.”
“Ah. Cynburga never was one to like swords for little girls.”
Léoma's smiled, watching as Runa held up the mitten; yes now she could see the craft taking form, soon to be something warm and comfortable for a child. Her eyes watched Amalric work as he began to speak next. “You can re-use the old buckle,” she gasped quickly as she saw which step of the work he had taken up. She could not afford all the new brass; the leather and time was going to be enough as it was. Altogether, it might be the cost of a pittance, but she was going to owe... coin which she did not have… locked up in chickens who were not laying well for the time of year.
“Only the leather has snapped…” she bit her lip, and turned back to look to the fire and will her eyes not to wet over the matter. Not in front of them. She had been able to forget, for a few minutes, her catastrophe with the eggs, and though the sweet rolls were filling her belly now, she knew she would be hungry again later.
“Cynburga has her opinions, you need not take them to heart,” she tried to give thought to the question she had herself asked, feeling silly for becoming distraught over the fastenings. She recalled for a moment; Runa was well known to take to the training grounds with sword. The elder woman they were discussing had likely given sentiment on that matter. Léoma did not mind it, to be truthful, everyone had their preferences, and there were many women written down in the histories to have held swords or gone into peril. Well, there were whole tribes where the women were the warriors; though she was very well not going to mention that, as interesting as the fact may be, Runa would not wish to be compare to the women of the Druedain, nor whichever small girl was going to be bearing a play sword.
Léoma wondered if she herself would not mind to learn how to wield a weapon; certainly if her body had been formed… whole… as it was she could only wield a paring knife if need be; and she hardly dared to carry one at her waist for fear she would puncture herself should she fall upon it. Runa had begun to speak again and this time Léoma turned to look back to her.
“Ceol is out…looking for her family. She has been doing well healing—won’t be long now before none of us can keep up with her.” Léoma's face had fallen. Not just any child in the Healing Hall, she was then? One without family. The thought was distressing. Everyone should have family.
“Actually…would you mind if I brought her for a visit, Leoma? Paega loves to meet new people. I know you love animals—Paega adores them. Can talk your ear off on them, especially horses.”
“I would… love to have her over,” she said. “And you. The winter is long and… I do not have visitors often,” she admitted. Her nephews did come over to split the wood, though they hardly partook in conversation.
“I have some old picture books on my shelf. Master Odhelm, the man who used to tutor me… he showed me when I was a small girl. One of all the horse breeds you can find upon the plain, and even elsewhere. I've looked at them so many times over, I have the pictures in memory,” she laughed slightly, recalling. “How old is Paega?” she wondered, thinking on what else she had to give her fancy.
For a long time she had wished her brother might have had another child; a daughter maybe, who she could have spent more time with, and been a better aunt to. As it was, it was probably better that her family had not grown, for the state of health her sister-in-law kept. Runa's sister-in-law now as well. She wondered if the woman had noticed yet, though could not think of a way to broach the subject that would not sound of gossip.
“Papa.” Perhaps the topic was uncomfortable, for Léoma could read faces well and saw Runa's embarrassment at her Father's story, so she said no more on it.
“When autumn comes...” she answered, “I would be glad to show you. Fresh apples are wonderful as is in September, but when you open a jar of them in February… a taste of summer in the middle of winter, there is hardly a thing better.” She was glad to be eating even as she spoke, for Léoma was not sure she could have beared to speak on food in such a way as hungry as she had been.
She wished she had a jar of the apple butter now, for she was going to have to grind the chicken's grit down to flour in the handmill; that would take a time, but not be so troubling. A mix of ground corn and water would make a filling, though tasteless meal. It would taste a King's feast however with something such as the apple butter to top it. Even though they had grown up poor through her youth, her Mother always had something hiding in the cabinet to make them taste the sweetness of summer during hard times.
“Well, I hope they are. Mittens, for a little girl under my charge.”
“Paega has mittens. Saw Cynburga in here herself with those needles of hers, telling me the girl needed more warmth.”
“Yes, she has those mittens. Ceol says Cynburga forbid him from letting her play with a sword in them, though. So I thought I would get her a second pair made.”
“Ah. Cynburga never was one to like swords for little girls.”
Léoma's smiled, watching as Runa held up the mitten; yes now she could see the craft taking form, soon to be something warm and comfortable for a child. Her eyes watched Amalric work as he began to speak next. “You can re-use the old buckle,” she gasped quickly as she saw which step of the work he had taken up. She could not afford all the new brass; the leather and time was going to be enough as it was. Altogether, it might be the cost of a pittance, but she was going to owe... coin which she did not have… locked up in chickens who were not laying well for the time of year.
“Only the leather has snapped…” she bit her lip, and turned back to look to the fire and will her eyes not to wet over the matter. Not in front of them. She had been able to forget, for a few minutes, her catastrophe with the eggs, and though the sweet rolls were filling her belly now, she knew she would be hungry again later.
“Cynburga has her opinions, you need not take them to heart,” she tried to give thought to the question she had herself asked, feeling silly for becoming distraught over the fastenings. She recalled for a moment; Runa was well known to take to the training grounds with sword. The elder woman they were discussing had likely given sentiment on that matter. Léoma did not mind it, to be truthful, everyone had their preferences, and there were many women written down in the histories to have held swords or gone into peril. Well, there were whole tribes where the women were the warriors; though she was very well not going to mention that, as interesting as the fact may be, Runa would not wish to be compare to the women of the Druedain, nor whichever small girl was going to be bearing a play sword.
Léoma wondered if she herself would not mind to learn how to wield a weapon; certainly if her body had been formed… whole… as it was she could only wield a paring knife if need be; and she hardly dared to carry one at her waist for fear she would puncture herself should she fall upon it. Runa had begun to speak again and this time Léoma turned to look back to her.
“Ceol is out…looking for her family. She has been doing well healing—won’t be long now before none of us can keep up with her.” Léoma's face had fallen. Not just any child in the Healing Hall, she was then? One without family. The thought was distressing. Everyone should have family.
“Actually…would you mind if I brought her for a visit, Leoma? Paega loves to meet new people. I know you love animals—Paega adores them. Can talk your ear off on them, especially horses.”
“I would… love to have her over,” she said. “And you. The winter is long and… I do not have visitors often,” she admitted. Her nephews did come over to split the wood, though they hardly partook in conversation.
“I have some old picture books on my shelf. Master Odhelm, the man who used to tutor me… he showed me when I was a small girl. One of all the horse breeds you can find upon the plain, and even elsewhere. I've looked at them so many times over, I have the pictures in memory,” she laughed slightly, recalling. “How old is Paega?” she wondered, thinking on what else she had to give her fancy.
For a long time she had wished her brother might have had another child; a daughter maybe, who she could have spent more time with, and been a better aunt to. As it was, it was probably better that her family had not grown, for the state of health her sister-in-law kept. Runa's sister-in-law now as well. She wondered if the woman had noticed yet, though could not think of a way to broach the subject that would not sound of gossip.