Post by Sinold Bragasson on Apr 14, 2004 6:02:39 GMT -5
Sinold lay on his bed, his hand stretched out to the empty space next to him. His bed was large enough for two… he chuckled when he remembered Edfeil’s recommendations about taking his bed with him when he would take Letha as his wife. Aaah, she had been a bit surprised, maybe concerned, about his revelation that he wished to court Lady Halethala, and one of her greatest concerns it seemed was that they would have a bed. Again his hand bruised over the empty sheets next to him – how Sinold longed to feel her skin and hair and see her laying beside him as his own.
He sighed then – so much needed to be considered. He would need to ask Letha’s guardian for permission to court her first, and here that person would be the king himself. It was customary in his land that the future groom asked a close friend to ask the bride’s guardian in his stead, as a kind of go-between. Sinold would ask Roland to take over that part for him… he was the closest male friend he had here in Windstorm, and the Norse hoped Roland would agree to help him in his endeavour. He also prayed to Thor that such a request would not be too painful for his brother as he was well aware that it could open barely-healed wounds.
As far as Sinold knew, Letha had no immediate family left, the man she considered like a father apparently had died during her excursion to the Morrowyth estate. What exactly had happened there he was still not certain, it was one point they needed to talk about for certain.
Then there was the question of finding an occupation, Sinold needed to be able to support himself and his future wife (right now he didn’t even want to think of any problems which would arise if it turned out that Letha and he were on totally different financial footings!). Sinold stared up against the ceiling of his room… he should chose an occupation? Lady Andrea – whom Sinold began to consider as a very close friend more and more – had suggested that he might suggest to be named Sheriff of the lands to the King. A notion which struck Sinold as quite impossible, really. First of all, he knew nothing of the laws of these lands. What was considered proper and right in his old home of Iceland might well be regarded as a capital offence here. Already Sinold had learned how different some customs and morals were here as compared to the place he grew up in. How did she think he should interpret the law here, of which he knew nothing really? Yes, he had a strong feeling what was acceptable and what was wrong, but his customs and views did differ quite a bit from those held here.
And then there was the *slight* matter of his heritage. He was Norse, a barbarian, plunderer and murderer to many. Maybe not so much any longer here with the members of his new family, but he still noticed the looks he got from the people in the village. His people had come here 2 years ago, and not as friends at that time. He was still the enemy – and he should ask the king to give him a position in which he would be responsible for upholding the local law? To people who at times wished him dead?
Sinold shook his head slightly, retracting his hand from its aimless search for warmth and familiarity. How would Letha smell in the morning, after a long night of love making? Would she still bear her own distinct scent or smell of… he laughed at the idea, and knew he’d look forward to finding out. But the original problem still remained – what could he do to earn his keep?
By nature, Norse where a very versatile people. Specialists were seldom and only known from larger settlements and towns, whereas the majority of his people where jacks of all trades. A man needed to know – and was expected to be skilled in – how to build a house, farm, forge weapons and tools, sew and brew; likewise the women were expected to know how to run a household, manage the wealth of a family and be skilled with herbs, remedies, how to cook, spin wool and fashion clothes.
Sinold was a typical specimen of his people, knowing how to do many tings and reasonably well. Wood working was his specialty, but he also knew many other crafts. In Iceland, and when not on a voyage of discovery and trade, he had been a farmer, had raised some horses… as much as he had come to love Ligea, the horse gifted to him by Lady Edfeil, he at times missed the sturdy small island ponies who were sure-footed and hardy.
So what was he good at enough to be of service to his new family? All that came to Sinold’s mind was to offer his service with the blade. That was what he excelled at. He was a warrior. He still hoped that one day he would be allowed to train to become a knight here at Windstorm (he was very proud of his brother Roland that he was making good progress in that direction), but until then… maybe a post with the guards of the castle and these lands would be something he would know how to do.
The only problem with that – he would have to request training and acceptance from lord Hawkmoon. The man he was on less than favourable terms with. But, it needed to be done, nonetheless for Gerbens insistence that Sinold would seek Hawkmoon as soon as possible. What for, the old guard had not said when he and his men had come to Sinold’s help during the harbour brawl. But whatever it was, it couldn’t be good… could it?
So those were the two men he needed to consult right now – King Agustin and Lord Hawkmoon. Reluctantly Sinold rolled off his bed into a sitting position, ran his hands through his ahir and then stood with a grim face. He would find the greater of his challenges first – lord Hawkmoon, and so strode out his chambers and over to the guard barracks where he hoped he would find the cantankerous man.
He sighed then – so much needed to be considered. He would need to ask Letha’s guardian for permission to court her first, and here that person would be the king himself. It was customary in his land that the future groom asked a close friend to ask the bride’s guardian in his stead, as a kind of go-between. Sinold would ask Roland to take over that part for him… he was the closest male friend he had here in Windstorm, and the Norse hoped Roland would agree to help him in his endeavour. He also prayed to Thor that such a request would not be too painful for his brother as he was well aware that it could open barely-healed wounds.
As far as Sinold knew, Letha had no immediate family left, the man she considered like a father apparently had died during her excursion to the Morrowyth estate. What exactly had happened there he was still not certain, it was one point they needed to talk about for certain.
Then there was the question of finding an occupation, Sinold needed to be able to support himself and his future wife (right now he didn’t even want to think of any problems which would arise if it turned out that Letha and he were on totally different financial footings!). Sinold stared up against the ceiling of his room… he should chose an occupation? Lady Andrea – whom Sinold began to consider as a very close friend more and more – had suggested that he might suggest to be named Sheriff of the lands to the King. A notion which struck Sinold as quite impossible, really. First of all, he knew nothing of the laws of these lands. What was considered proper and right in his old home of Iceland might well be regarded as a capital offence here. Already Sinold had learned how different some customs and morals were here as compared to the place he grew up in. How did she think he should interpret the law here, of which he knew nothing really? Yes, he had a strong feeling what was acceptable and what was wrong, but his customs and views did differ quite a bit from those held here.
And then there was the *slight* matter of his heritage. He was Norse, a barbarian, plunderer and murderer to many. Maybe not so much any longer here with the members of his new family, but he still noticed the looks he got from the people in the village. His people had come here 2 years ago, and not as friends at that time. He was still the enemy – and he should ask the king to give him a position in which he would be responsible for upholding the local law? To people who at times wished him dead?
Sinold shook his head slightly, retracting his hand from its aimless search for warmth and familiarity. How would Letha smell in the morning, after a long night of love making? Would she still bear her own distinct scent or smell of… he laughed at the idea, and knew he’d look forward to finding out. But the original problem still remained – what could he do to earn his keep?
By nature, Norse where a very versatile people. Specialists were seldom and only known from larger settlements and towns, whereas the majority of his people where jacks of all trades. A man needed to know – and was expected to be skilled in – how to build a house, farm, forge weapons and tools, sew and brew; likewise the women were expected to know how to run a household, manage the wealth of a family and be skilled with herbs, remedies, how to cook, spin wool and fashion clothes.
Sinold was a typical specimen of his people, knowing how to do many tings and reasonably well. Wood working was his specialty, but he also knew many other crafts. In Iceland, and when not on a voyage of discovery and trade, he had been a farmer, had raised some horses… as much as he had come to love Ligea, the horse gifted to him by Lady Edfeil, he at times missed the sturdy small island ponies who were sure-footed and hardy.
So what was he good at enough to be of service to his new family? All that came to Sinold’s mind was to offer his service with the blade. That was what he excelled at. He was a warrior. He still hoped that one day he would be allowed to train to become a knight here at Windstorm (he was very proud of his brother Roland that he was making good progress in that direction), but until then… maybe a post with the guards of the castle and these lands would be something he would know how to do.
The only problem with that – he would have to request training and acceptance from lord Hawkmoon. The man he was on less than favourable terms with. But, it needed to be done, nonetheless for Gerbens insistence that Sinold would seek Hawkmoon as soon as possible. What for, the old guard had not said when he and his men had come to Sinold’s help during the harbour brawl. But whatever it was, it couldn’t be good… could it?
So those were the two men he needed to consult right now – King Agustin and Lord Hawkmoon. Reluctantly Sinold rolled off his bed into a sitting position, ran his hands through his ahir and then stood with a grim face. He would find the greater of his challenges first – lord Hawkmoon, and so strode out his chambers and over to the guard barracks where he hoped he would find the cantankerous man.
