A Fine Start to the Morning - April 3010 (Open)

“Can I help cook, Mama Wuna?”

Bright blue eyes looked up, golden curls bouncing about cherubic cheeks as Runa and Paega toddled their way through the morning crowds of the market. Already the woman was tired; Paega had risen early, before the sun had deemed it wise to do so himself, and seemingly carrying the energy of the mighty horses of Rohan’s fame, had set about making sure both of her parents had known she was out of bed.

Looking at her now, though, it was easy to forget the small gale she had created in the kitchens trying to be her mother’s helper and fix her own breakfast. Ceolmund was feeling more himself, though, so perhaps he would be up to keeping the young girl occupied so Runa could more quickly, and better prepare their supper. She certainly did not need a repeat of the spilled milk, broken eggs, squished butter, and trampled bread loaf again tonight.

“We will see,” Runa hummed down to the toddler, offering a small smile and tightening her hold upon her hand as her mind returned to the messes that seemed now to follow in the child’s wake when she managed to slip free. “Papa Ceolmund may need a helper, though.”

The little girl’s lip pouted in thought. “With what?” Paega inquired innocently.

“Oh, I don’t know…why don’t we see what he gets into today, hm?” Her voice was airy, weaving a musical lilt for the benefit of the young girl. Indeed there was likely nothing Ceolmund would need that Paega would be able to provide in earnest help, though they both loved having her about to try.

Runa’s thoughts once more went back to her scrubbing of the floor and cabinets that morning. With an inward, amused smile, the woman tempered her earlier thought. Most of the time.

“Papa Coleymond is siwwy,” the little girl laughed, for a moment skipping walking and instead bouncing ahead like a fawn or foal. “He needs help a wot!”

Runa snorted quietly, wondering for a moment if she should tell her husband precisely what Paega had said when they returned home or not. She was certainly amused. Still, she also was not sure she should let Paega utter such things without slight correction. Ceolmund was, truthfully, one of the most able-bodied men in Edoras. Him needing help was rather rare, save for when he was giving Mama some rest and occupying a three-year-old busybody. She was much easier to tire out now, nearly five months into what Ceolmund had started calling her condition. “You know, Papa Ceolmund is one of the—”

Runa’s voice stilled, though, as she saw a gathered crowd by one of the smithies. Low murmurs were passing to and from mouths whose eyes were seemingly held rapt to something going on inside.

“Awe they having a pawty?” Paega asked.

Runa’s jawline set stern in concern, and her brow folded down, casting an icy feel to the woman’s expression. “I’m not sure, little sparrow. Let’s…let’s see if we can help, hm?”

“All wight, Mama Wuna! I like helping!” Paega’s voice trilled in reply. With purpose, Runa began to shoulder her way through the crowd toward the door.

“’Scuse me!” Paega was calling at her heels. “We’we coming thwoow! Don’t huwt my baby, pwease!” It was perhaps her little voice that was the only reason Runa was able to pass as easily as she did. The little girl had taken to looking after her coming sibling in a way that was thorough and endearing. It was her baby, as Paega called it. For the little girl was certain Runa and Ceolmund were having it for her—so she had a friend.

Even a pushy crowd, though, knew to give Runa entry regardless. She was not known about Edoras for being mild-mannered, and her fire, despite the year’s events of domestication, still burned brightly.


”Ye think that’s funny, urchin? Right old jester? Tell me boy you have a death wish?”
“I’m not afraid of you. If yer gonna end me get on with it! I’m not afraid of death.”

Runa froze in the doorway as the words hit her, and her blue eyes assessed the two figures quickly. Paega, too, had heard the words, and the young girl gasped in horror.

“They’we going to death him, Mama Wuna?” Paega shrieked.

“Nobody is dying,” she said very firmly, giving her daughter a reassuring hand squeeze before turning eyes of lightning back to the scene before her. “That isn’t how the law works in Edoras. Now. What’s going on here?” She demanded firmly.

”What is going on... Is that I found this filthy mongrel. In my shop before hours! Likely looking to take stock of my wares!”
“I didn’t try to steal anything! You left the door open and I-Look I didn’t take take anything.”

With eyes crackling like lightning, Runa’s nostrils flared with agitation. Indeed the man seemed to be thinking twice about his threats now that Runa herself was in his presence, though whether it was because she was an outsider to the dispute or the man knew of her reputation, she could not say. Still, the woman’s face looked cold and gale like, and her stance did not falter.

“I don’t care if you actually caught him hauling your things out the door,” Runa said, her voice almost a growl. Paega looked up to her, though not in fear. “You don’t use a blade to take up the law of Theoden King into your own hands!”

Her eyes slid from the shopkeeper to the young figure before him. His hair was mussed, his clothes looked messy. It was likely the boy was from a poor family, and despite the smallness of the city, Runa herself did not recognize him. Perhaps he was a refugee, come to Edoras by way of the outer Foldes, driven by Dunlending sword or orcish mace.

Why the young teen was looking for steel rather than food, though, Runa was not certain.

”You attacked me!”
“After you attacked first! And I only sought to disarm you! You were the one ready to run me through with a blade.”

“That’s enough,” Runa grunted coldly. Her eyes did another sweep of the scene. Two blades there were, though one was disarmed and lying upon the ground beside the young one’s boot. While it was certainly wrong for a child to draw blade, it seemed doubly so for a man who claimed to be of the King’s Law to do the same. “If there was a problem with thieving, you should have called the guards—spilling his blood merely would make you both guilty.” Runa

Paega, who had hitherto stood quietly at Runa’s side looked up to the woman now, little hand tugging on her mother’s with a frown. “Mama Wuna? Awe they going to awested them?”

“That probably depends on the choices they make from here, Little Sparrow,” Runa answered. “Do you remember how Papa Ceol and I talked about consequences the other day?”

“Mhm,” the little girl answered in a saccharine hum.

“This is one of those big choices,” Runa drawled, the tone sweet for her daughter, but her eyes steadfast and hard upon the two before her. “The sword can be lowered and we can all talk things out and see what it is we need to do, or I can send for the guard myself.”

“Oh no! Awe you going to call the gawds like Mean Gwamma?”

“Not quite,” Runa offered. For a moment, she pondered the memory of Elin, the woman who howled for the guards so often the men in uniform had taken to ignoring her claims. This was not going to be like that at all. If Runa called the guards, it was not going to be on a whim. “So—are you going to lower that blade, or do I need to take it from you and call them in?”

“You’re a lucky little urchin, y’know that? I don’t know whose son you are. But if I see so much as a dagger missing from my shop. Your father will be hearing of it. You’d do well not defending the filth. He’s probably the son of a thief. Look at how he dresses! The poor don’t deserve sympathy.”

Runa remained steadfast, unflinching and eyes unwavering as the man turned his attention back to her. “Nobody should suffer the crimes of their parents,” Runa said seriously. Ceolmund, her own husband, was image enough of that. Elin had been a terror upon Edoras, constantly screaming, berating…abusing. Her son, though, was a captain of the Eored, a gentle and kind man who did not deserve to suffer that woman’s care a single minute.

Perhaps this child’s father was a thief—truly there was no reason for the boy to be poking around a closed shop at all unless it was to lift some of the items inside. Perhaps the coin. Runa’s eye shifted to the young teen, watching as he picked himself from the ground, and ignoring the shopkeeper as he retreated further into the shop. Perhaps he was taking inventory, or maybe embarrassed by the display he had offered. Surely he felt shame to draw a blade against so young a child.

The teen with the scruffy mop of hair and dirt-smudged face turned to her, reclaiming his blade to sit at his hip. “Thank you m’am, if it makes you feel better about it. I did not steal anything. That man was crazy. Though you didn’t have to step in. He might have tried something on you.”

For a moment, Runa smirked and stifled a small laugh. “It would take a lot more than Hereward’s skill with fighting to challenge me,” Runa offered, the lilt of her tone filled with amusement. “He might be a decent smith, but he sure isn’t a fighter.”

“Mama Wuna’s a good fightew,” Paega offered. She, too, was learning the sword, though her own was not as shiny and heavy as her mother’s, and her father’s was bigger yet.

Runa paused, though, eyeing the boy from head to hem. He certainly looked bedraggled; refugees often did. “What’s your name?” She asked. Truthfully, the boy looked frightened, and Runa wondered if her own presence flooded too much ferocity for his liking. It would not be the first time she had left people frightened of her. Runa’s demeanor was certainly not mild, and though her heart was steadfast and kind, it was the icy features she wore upon her face that people remembered best.

“My name is Paega!” The little toddler trilled in greeting. “This is Mama Wuna,” she added, looking up to the woman who yet clung to her hand. “Who you?” She repeated the question, in her own way. Now that the tension was gone from the room, the girl was once more happy and pleased to be out and about.

“He didn’t seem to fair very well against me. That’s for sure. He needed a cheap shot to bring me down. I suppose he didn’t seem like the sort to play fair from day one.”

Runa tilted her head slightly as she looked down upon the boy. He looked to be in his mid-teens; from the way he spoke he seemed to be familiar with blades overall, which made the woman wonder if that was why he had honed in on the smithy to begin with. It also sounded like the young boy had spent time hanging around the shop, what with the way he was certain he had observed Hereward’s skill. Perhaps he had been observing it. Heists often required reconnaissance.

The woman, though, remained silent, awaiting the name she had asked for. If this young man was a refugee, perhaps he had need of the steel. Perhaps he did not think the Eored would take a trainee who could not provide an utmost quality blade. He was a bit older, perhaps, to join the recruits in their trainings with Heruthain, but she knew her own brother had been older yet.

It was, however, necessary to prove you could add something to the already formidable Eored. For Beorhtric, he had been selected for his horsemanship. Perhaps this young man wanted to prove he was sound with a blade.

“Oh. He didn’t use a lot of monies?” Paega asked with a frown. The child, of course, did not know how a shot could be cheap—she did not even think you paid a copper.

“No, little sparrow,” Runa laughed slightly. “He means that…he felt Hereward had to…cheat. Like in a game.”

Paega frowned. “Oh. But cheating isn’t nice,” she observed plainly. Her pale blue eyes flicked to the back of the shop, watching the space where the smithy had disappeared with a deep frown.

“Your mama looks like she’s a great fighter. Carries herself like one anyway.”

“Mama Wuna spaws with Papa Coleymond awot. She pwactices the sowd, too!” Paega piped in reply, dropping the tilt of her lips for a curl once more. She looked back toward the new friend, and giggled. “I want to be like hew when I gwowed up!”

“Well, I have had many years of practice,” Runa said, the words almost strained. What Paega often called spars, truly had little to do with combat at all. Though, Ceolmund was a capable warrior and a very sound teacher. He often spent spare time down at the training grounds to assist the recruits in learning.

“Papa Coleymond is the biiiiiiiggest capytain in the Erdodred,” Paega added brightly.

“Eored,” Runa corrected lovingly. “But you haven’t met my uncles yet. They’re even bigger than Papa Ceol.” At that, Paega gasped. She could hardly imagine such a thing.

“My name? Gram, it’s Gram...I’m sorry that I seem to have soured your day out a bit with your daughter, m’am. It seems trouble seems to simply follow me wherever I go. I do my best to avoid it but I suppose the way i go about things can make the task difficult.”

“Hewwo, Gwam!” Paega greeted excitedly. Her mother was a bit more reserved, focusing instead on the way he mentioned ‘the way I go about things’.

“Then tell me, Gram,” the woman hummed lowly, blue eyes imploring. “How did you go about things this morning? What were you doing in Hereward’s shop?”