Chapter 8 #2
A large man stood at one bench, shaping a piece of metal with careful strikes. He turned at their entrance to reveal a long blond beard braided with tiny silver beads that caught the forge-light. His wide mouth lifted into a friendly smile, and he seemed to inquire about the visit.
Aevar responded and motioned to Eadlyn. The man seemed surprised but intrigued. Aevar turned to her and said, “This is Tallak, our silversmith.”
Eadlyn offered a soft hello, hoping her tone bridged the language gap if her words did not.
Tallak responded with something that sounded pleasantly close enough.
Aevar spoke again, and the man nodded. With quick, sure hands, he took measurements of both their fingers.
Once finished, Aevar said a few more words, and they stepped back out into the misty morning.
Aevar walked in silence at first, his strides easy and unhurried. Eadlyn lengthened her own to keep pace, watching the village life unfold around them.
“How many people live here in Fjellheim?” she asked.
He scanned the buildings. “About five hundred. We have two more clan settlements east of here, and one to the southwest. Farming villages and homesteads too, scattered between.”
She absorbed that, picturing the rugged wilderness dotted with small communities clinging to the mountains and forests. “Are there other clans nearby?”
“Yes. Jarl Halbjorn’s clan is just north of us.
He’s a good man and a friend to my father.
He holds a lot of sway with the other clans.
And Jarl Staegar is farther down the fjord.
” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “He would be king himself if he could. I expect he’ll have plenty to say about the alliance at the Gathering. ”
Eadlyn committed the names to memory. Halbjorn, friend. Staegar, potential threat. The knowledge settled uneasily. There would be allies here, but also enemies. She could not afford to be na?ve.
Near the longhouse, movement captured her attention.
A woman stood at a corner, watching them.
Eadlyn recognized her at once—the striking woman she had glimpsed from horseback yesterday with the shaved hair.
She wore a tunic and trousers like Heida, and a sword hung from her hip with casual ease.
Her pale eyes, rimmed in black, locked onto Eadlyn, and the open hostility that burned there made the hair on the back of Eadlyn’s neck prickle.
They didn’t just hold suspicion but smoldering anger.
Eadlyn drew closer to Aevar, but before she could speak, a building rose between them, and the woman vanished from sight.
Back at the longhouse, none of the other men were around. Inga and Ranvi stood at the table with two of the young slave women. Festive banners and garland lay in a heap on the tabletop between them, creating a tangle of bright colors against the worn wood.
Inga paused from sorting through the pile and addressed Aevar. “Your father and brothers went to help set up for the competitions.”
Aevar turned to Eadlyn. In that moment, he hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should leave her or stay.
“Go.” She motioned to the others. “I’m sure there’s plenty I can help with here.”
With a quick nod, Aevar turned and left the hall again.
Eadlyn crossed over to the table. “What can I do?”
“We need to untangle these so Alys and Nesta can decorate.” Inga gestured to the two young women.
Eadlyn went to work, disentangling a length of blue wool garland from the pile. When she finished, she handed it to one of the waiting girls. Before long, the hall took on a festive air as they strung garlands and banners from the balconies and wrapped them around the pillars.
As she worked, Eadlyn noted how easily Alys and Nesta interacted with Inga and Ranvi, laughing and exchanging comments. Sometimes, when they spoke amongst themselves, Eadlyn caught snatches of Aerlish, confirming her suspicion they were from one of the southern kingdoms.
When they finished the decorations, she moved to the hearth.
Burning pine filled her nose as she extended her hands toward the flames, the heat prickling at her fingertips.
She let it soak into her skin, trying to push back the chill that had sunk deep since she arrived.
One of the slave girls appeared a moment later with two pieces of wood cradled in her arms. She crouched to lay them on the fire.
“You’re Alys?” Eadlyn asked.
The girl dipped her head. “Yes, my lady. Nesta is my sister.”
“Are you from Essix?”
“No. We came from a small village on the coast of Waelon.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Seven winters now.”
Eadlyn hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she should speak so freely, but Alys seemed open, even eager to talk.
Her heart ached at the thought of the two girls torn from their home.
Not that things were any better in Essix.
Though she’d tried to befriend the slaves kept at Kenwich, her father’s mistreatment of them had left them too withdrawn to respond.
She prayed Edward did better. They had discussed it at length before she’d left.
“Are you happy here?”
Alys offered a smile that was far more genuine than those back home. “I am, my lady. When our village was raided, it was terrifying. But Jarl Runar bought us and gave us a home here. Truly, I feel blessed. My father…” She faltered, a shadow drifting across her face. “He was not kind.”
Eadlyn understood more than she wished she did.
“We are better off here. We are well-fed and sheltered. Jarl Runar does not force us to entertain his guests like I’ve heard others do.” Alys’s smile turned shy, almost glowing. “And he is allowing me to marry.”
“Really?” This came as a surprise, yet it fit with everything Eadlyn had observed of Runar’s family. “To who?”
“Alrik. He is a shipwright. He’s building us a house right now. We will wed once he finishes it.”
Warmth seeped into Eadlyn’s heart despite the lingering chill in the hall. “Congratulations.”
“And to you as well, my lady,” Alys added. She spoke tentatively, her voice holding an unspoken question.
While Eadlyn missed Edward and Galen, all things considered, her first few days as a new bride were far more pleasant than she had expected. “Thank you.”
* * *
By nightfall, the longhouse had been transformed.
Woven garlands draped from the beams, colored cloths adorned the extra tables, and carved wooden ornaments caught the firelight, casting dancing shadows across the walls.
Eadlyn had spent the afternoon working with the women, her hands busy kneading dough, stirring pots, and learning little by little the rhythms of their life.
Laughter had been easy between them, their stories blending with the crackle of the hearth.
The sound of voices near the doors caught her attention.
She turned in time to see Aevar among the men, laughing as he gave Erik a playful shove.
He said something she didn’t hear, and the others burst into hearty laughter.
This was the most relaxed she’d ever seen him, grinning, shoulders loose, completely at ease with his brothers and Kian.
She liked seeing him like this. She wanted to know this side of him better.
As the men approached the tables, Runar gave the hall a sweeping glance, nodding with approval. “Everything looks good.”
Inga smiled in satisfaction. “Yes. Now we just need our guests.”
Everyone gathered for supper, the family filling the hall with easy conversation.
Runar spoke of the final preparations for the Gathering, while Aevar and his brothers swapped stories of past competitions and old rivalries they hoped to settle.
Eadlyn listened, smiling at their lively banter.
She didn’t know what the contests involved, but she suspected there would be no shortage of weapons.
After the meal, no one hurried away. They lingered over the fire, talking and laughing in low voices, their faces lit by the soft flicker of the flames. But, one by one, the day’s fatigue caught up with them, and the family drifted away into the quiet.
Eadlyn rose with a sleepy sigh and headed toward the room she now shared with Aevar, her thoughts drifting toward the warmth of the bed waiting for her.
Even with a full belly and pleasant company, the chill had clung to her all day.
Yet before she could sleep, she had one important task to accomplish.
Aevar followed behind, carrying an oil lamp.
He moved around the room to light a few others like last night.
While he straightened the furs in the corner, Eadlyn opened one of her travel packs and pulled out the bundle of Scripture.
The leather cover was worn and scuffed, the pages inside as familiar as an old friend.
She hesitated before turning to Aevar. “Would you mind if I read before we put the lamps out?”
He gestured at the bundle. “Go ahead.”
Thanking him, she settled at the small table near the bed.
After unwrapping the bundle, she turned through the delicate parchment until she found the Psalms. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head, whispering a soft prayer.
Behind her, the blankets rustled as Aevar settled down, and the room fell into peaceful silence.
Some time later, his voice cut across the stillness, low and curious. “What is it you’re reading?”
She turned halfway in her chair to face him. “Scripture. God’s Word, written long ago and passed down so we can know Him.”
He said no more, and she shifted back to the pages but hesitated again, a thought stirring inside her. “I’d like to be up with the rest of the family in the morning. Would you wake me when you rise?”
“If that is what you want.”
“It is. If this is to be my home now…” She looked down at the pages in front of her, then back to him. “I want to learn the routine of it. I want to do my part.”
Aevar met her gaze across the lamplight and gave a small nod.