Many Happy Returns (May 2997) - [Ceolmund]
Mar 5, 2018 22:26:41 GMT -5
Post by Ceolmund on Mar 5, 2018 22:26:41 GMT -5
“The hat and mittens were just fine,” Ceolmund smiled. It was of course his way of saying, they were perfect. “I took them every time upon the plains. A comfort to sleep in... something of home. It was not Meduseld I missed.”
They had even smelled of her at first. Herbs and mint. He had been devastated when the scent had worn away to become what everything was during a muster; earth, horse, campfire. Still; to wear them and know that every stitch had been put in with intention for him.
He listened while the brother and sister spoke back and forth on the name of a girl. He could not put a face to the name; and was confused on that matter, but even more frustrating was the fact that Beorhtric was still seeming to misinterpret his comments. Perhaps, he mused, giving him the benefit of doubt... perhaps it was that Beorhtric wished to visit this tailor's daughter for himself. He seemed to like her. Maybe he wished for the encouragement with her; yet now was not the day for it.
“I do not think we should stop,” Ceolmund gave his own input. “It is Runa's nameday,” he pointed out. She had seemed sad at the mention of stopping to visit someone else. And it was not part of their tradition. He had only just returned home to her. “Sweet Runa,” he muttered, looking down to her. His words were a protest of sorts. If Beorhtric thought he would think a woman he did not even know sweet...well, he would remind the man of who indeed was on his mind, and he would make Runa smile again. He reached to touch her cheek, as he earlier had. He meant his words. She was just what he liked, and she should know it. If she did not, he would tell her as soon as Beorhtric would let them be.
“I am feeling quite well,” he tried to say to the man, in hopes he would head back to the city before they had gone much further. The pippit was urging them pick up their pace and depart.
“He must have a fine nest nearby. Why don’t we get our water further downstream?”
Ceolmund nodded. It was a good idea and he was ready to pull Runa around downstream with him. They could cross to the other side, and there would be a nice place where the water pooled a bit for them to drink. Beorhtric stilled them, however, and started larking his opinion of what the bird should be thinking. Or perhaps, Ceolmund thought, he had known his true intention with the comment and was making a jest of it.
“His mate is in no danger from us. We are no hunters, and we certainly will not take her. Nor could we. He has laid claim.”
Certainly the bird had laid his claim; yet Gudmund had not. Nor would Ceolmund allow it. Ceolmund had his nest mate chosen, and nobody else was going to steal her away; not long as Runa wanted him. She did, didn't she? His heart panged. She had said he would be a good provider.
It was not long before the meadow pippit made known his protest,
“Confounded birds.”
“Go home, Bear. Ceol and I can’t watch birds if you’re going to bumble into baiting them like that.”
“I hope he is not too stressed now,” Ceolmund muttered, speaking of course, of the bird. It was well known that the males helped protect the nest and share duty in bringing food to the hatchlings. He hoped there would be no disturbance in his flow of protection and food for the young ones. He glanced to Beorhtric, seeing the thin line of blood trickling at his temple.
“Beorhtric, we will see you in the city later. You do not have to watch the birds with us,” he waved him on. He should have known better; Beorhtric did not really wish to seek birds, he had as much as announced his disgust again. He was not certain at all what the man wished, other than perhaps he had planned to spend Runa's nameday with her, since they had not expected him.
All would be well now though, Ceolmund would take up again the duty which Beorhtric had left him with many times. He wished to be away from the wordiness, excitement, and energy of Runa, and Ceolmund love to be near it. He could still babysit, though perhaps his baby was now taking a new and dear place in his heart than she had before. Beorhtric would not need ask him, ever, for Ceolmund would seek Runa whenever he had the chance.
“I will look after her,” he assured the man. Had he forgotten how Ceolmund was always able to care for Runa? She had not come to harm with him; and Ceolmund would let nothing happen. It was a bright and cheerful day, and the plains were singing with birdsong and breeze in the grasses.
“Did he get your hand?” he muttered, seeing a mark of red upon her skin and frowning. She had taken far worse on the training ring, yet still, he never liked to see Runa with a break in her skin. “We will leave the pippit to his work here, come on,” he guided her, a hand behind her shoulder, which soon he dropped and let glide to the small of her back, moving with her this way until they reached the edge of silver stream where the crossing was best, leaving the meadow pippit long behind.
Ceolmund dropped his hand and braced himself, taking a long leap. He knew where to step, and his long legs landed easily on the opposite side without even wetting the toe of his boot; yet Runa's legs were much shorter. They had played this game before, though. He leaned and reached across, the icy waters and she would reach and take his hands, then make a flying leap while he pulled her the rest of the way and caught her on the end. This was the way of crossing. They could drink, and move onward to the finest nesting grounds, in search of their lark.
They had even smelled of her at first. Herbs and mint. He had been devastated when the scent had worn away to become what everything was during a muster; earth, horse, campfire. Still; to wear them and know that every stitch had been put in with intention for him.
He listened while the brother and sister spoke back and forth on the name of a girl. He could not put a face to the name; and was confused on that matter, but even more frustrating was the fact that Beorhtric was still seeming to misinterpret his comments. Perhaps, he mused, giving him the benefit of doubt... perhaps it was that Beorhtric wished to visit this tailor's daughter for himself. He seemed to like her. Maybe he wished for the encouragement with her; yet now was not the day for it.
“I do not think we should stop,” Ceolmund gave his own input. “It is Runa's nameday,” he pointed out. She had seemed sad at the mention of stopping to visit someone else. And it was not part of their tradition. He had only just returned home to her. “Sweet Runa,” he muttered, looking down to her. His words were a protest of sorts. If Beorhtric thought he would think a woman he did not even know sweet...well, he would remind the man of who indeed was on his mind, and he would make Runa smile again. He reached to touch her cheek, as he earlier had. He meant his words. She was just what he liked, and she should know it. If she did not, he would tell her as soon as Beorhtric would let them be.
“I am feeling quite well,” he tried to say to the man, in hopes he would head back to the city before they had gone much further. The pippit was urging them pick up their pace and depart.
“He must have a fine nest nearby. Why don’t we get our water further downstream?”
Ceolmund nodded. It was a good idea and he was ready to pull Runa around downstream with him. They could cross to the other side, and there would be a nice place where the water pooled a bit for them to drink. Beorhtric stilled them, however, and started larking his opinion of what the bird should be thinking. Or perhaps, Ceolmund thought, he had known his true intention with the comment and was making a jest of it.
“His mate is in no danger from us. We are no hunters, and we certainly will not take her. Nor could we. He has laid claim.”
Certainly the bird had laid his claim; yet Gudmund had not. Nor would Ceolmund allow it. Ceolmund had his nest mate chosen, and nobody else was going to steal her away; not long as Runa wanted him. She did, didn't she? His heart panged. She had said he would be a good provider.
It was not long before the meadow pippit made known his protest,
“Confounded birds.”
“Go home, Bear. Ceol and I can’t watch birds if you’re going to bumble into baiting them like that.”
“I hope he is not too stressed now,” Ceolmund muttered, speaking of course, of the bird. It was well known that the males helped protect the nest and share duty in bringing food to the hatchlings. He hoped there would be no disturbance in his flow of protection and food for the young ones. He glanced to Beorhtric, seeing the thin line of blood trickling at his temple.
“Beorhtric, we will see you in the city later. You do not have to watch the birds with us,” he waved him on. He should have known better; Beorhtric did not really wish to seek birds, he had as much as announced his disgust again. He was not certain at all what the man wished, other than perhaps he had planned to spend Runa's nameday with her, since they had not expected him.
All would be well now though, Ceolmund would take up again the duty which Beorhtric had left him with many times. He wished to be away from the wordiness, excitement, and energy of Runa, and Ceolmund love to be near it. He could still babysit, though perhaps his baby was now taking a new and dear place in his heart than she had before. Beorhtric would not need ask him, ever, for Ceolmund would seek Runa whenever he had the chance.
“I will look after her,” he assured the man. Had he forgotten how Ceolmund was always able to care for Runa? She had not come to harm with him; and Ceolmund would let nothing happen. It was a bright and cheerful day, and the plains were singing with birdsong and breeze in the grasses.
“Did he get your hand?” he muttered, seeing a mark of red upon her skin and frowning. She had taken far worse on the training ring, yet still, he never liked to see Runa with a break in her skin. “We will leave the pippit to his work here, come on,” he guided her, a hand behind her shoulder, which soon he dropped and let glide to the small of her back, moving with her this way until they reached the edge of silver stream where the crossing was best, leaving the meadow pippit long behind.
Ceolmund dropped his hand and braced himself, taking a long leap. He knew where to step, and his long legs landed easily on the opposite side without even wetting the toe of his boot; yet Runa's legs were much shorter. They had played this game before, though. He leaned and reached across, the icy waters and she would reach and take his hands, then make a flying leap while he pulled her the rest of the way and caught her on the end. This was the way of crossing. They could drink, and move onward to the finest nesting grounds, in search of their lark.