Asking her

[Sinold Bragasson]

Yesterday had been the day he had asked her.... if she wanted to marry him. It had happened quite spontaneously, with only a little bit of prodding by Letha. They sat underneath some of the flowering orchard trees, and then Sinold took Letha's hands into his and he washed her… if she wanted to become his wife.

He thought she said yes and was on a cloud by himself when she did, only then she had to leave suddenly, vanishing, with one of her so typical cryptic remarks. It wouldn't last so he should enjoy it while it lasted.

What was THAT suppose to mean now?

Had she not said yes? Sinold was confused, and spread his confusion into the great hall, where lady Edfeil and Lady Andrea did their best to unconfused the befuddled and frantic Norse. After about an hour of talking and trying to make sense out of it all, they managed to calm his spirits again and convince him that Letha had indeed said Yes to his proposal, as inelegantly and simple as it had been.

Yet, he didn't sleep well that night, still her words haunting him as to what would last and what would vanish, as she had this spring afternoon from underneath those blossoming trees.

[Halethala]

((*shakes her head* Give Sinny an inch, he'll play it for hours! sheesh . . ))

Like a whirlwind, it had struck so suddenly, e'en if the setting had been idyllic . . She'd become a bit impatient at his planning and plotting and galloping along with a shared future for them, and yet had not even troubled himself to see if she were a willing partner in it! It could not be "official" anyway, not until some things were agreed upon . . but she wished to hear his words from his mouth herself . .

It seemed the stars themselves were in alignment to keep them apart . . she'd had to leave, too quickly, as always . . when would they have time to speak of all that should be spoken of?

For now, she sought to monopolize some of his time, bringing along a gift . . she'd found it in the village on the shopping trip . . it was a small square box, the base made of solid oak, with dovetailed corners. The top was of smooth bone, with an exquisite carving of a tall ship in full flight across tossing waves. There had been much symbolism to the box when she'd spotted it, much that reminded her of him. The solidness, strength and endurance of the oak; the dovetailing symbolizing a need to link together equally to stay together; the bone symbolizing a death of some things to give birth to others; the ship, his past and his heritage; the tossing waves~ the tempests and tempers they were bound to face, both so strong willed; the sea, the depths that would be fathomless, if they sought to probe them, in whatever ways they could . . It had seemed a perfect gift for him . .

But for good measure, she also included a bottle of the King's special rum. He had invited her warmly and sincerely to help herself at any time, even though she'd thought it best to keep such an offer for only special occasions . . Well, what could be more special? Perhaps he and Tyrun could toast the settling of all those fussy courting details with the bottle between them . . Heaven help the two hardy Norsemen if they could not handle the effects of the powerful contents as the King seemed able . .

She smiled as she knocked on his door. This time she would deliver the gifts herself . .

[Sinold Bragasson]

He was laying on his bed, dozing a bit after a good day's work in the stables, working a bit more on the hilt for Letha's sword, the smelly shirt tossed off into a corner. He hadn't bothered yet to take out a new shirt from the drawers, he liked being naked, even if he could only do so in the privacy of his own room.

An idea, recently having come to his mind – thanks to Letha's inspiration – was beginning to take serious shape as Sinold thought of a small herd of Iceland horses being breed here for the local farmers. Icelanders were sturdy, hard, could be house outside year-round. Good, fast and versatile horses, and pretty on the eye as well. Much smaller than the horses normally used here in these lands, and thus not much to look at first, but Sinold loved those horses. his family had a small herd they bred regularly and sold to his Jarl and others. Maybe he should ask Tyrun to get him a few to start a breeding herd here… but then, how could he pay for bringing them here?

Just as he was about to turn on his side to stare out the window again, a knock was heard on the door.

"Aye… come in, I'm decent."

Decent was a relative term, but when Sinold saw who it was standing in his door now, he knew he was more than decently dressed. His future wife would certainly not mind seeing him in his full prime and as naturally as a baby?

"Letha! my dear, come in!" Sinold swung his feet over the edge of his bed, smiling warmly at his visitor. "What have you brought me there? Come, sit by me!" He patted the mattress invitingly, and he was glad that Letha followed his invite.

She then showed him the box she had bought him, and also why she had picked such an item for him. Sinold was touched, and leaned forward to kiss his beloved's lips gently. "Thank you, you have such good taste. I shall put this box to good use, I already know how it will be put to good use for our wedding."

A sudden silence came over him, before he looked Letha deep into her eyes and drew her very close to himself. "You scared my, in the garden, you know that? Do not be so cryptic with me, Letha! I'm but a man whom you can easily befuddle with yer womanly charms and crypticness!" he kissed her again and took her hands into his. "You said yes to my proposal, aye? You will become my wife and be the mother of our children? I want this… more and more each day. But you… I need to hear it from you as well… uncryptically!"

He grinned a bit, and leaned his cheek against one of Letha's hands.

[Halethala]

She’d hesitated as he door had swung open, her mouth parted slightly, biting lightly at the corner of her lip. She had not intended to enter, had meant to ask him to come with her, to ride perhaps back to the cliffs. Drinking in the scene before her, she slowly smiled. She knew his form well, remembering the night the sword skewered into his side had nearly ended his life, remembered the anxious stretch of endless moments awaiting help . . she eyed his scar now, and the others that faintly traced a history of hard living like a map across his solid torso . .

Stepping into his quarters at his invite gingerly, as if compelled by a force greater than herself, she gently sat herself down closely, and offered the first gift, her finger tracing across the texture of the box as she explained its significance. She’d wished for something finer, something precious and rare, but had not felt she could afford such a luxury . . thus had opted for something rich in meaning. She took his hands and placed the gift in it, then asked “Ye’ve a use in mind for it already? Tell me what it be, or is it a mystery I must await?”

Before he could answer, he’d reached for her, and she moved willingly into his arms, her soft, golden hair draping across his bare arm and back as she nestled close . . his gentleness nearly caused tears to spring to her eyes. The almost desperate tone that tempered his voice struck a chord so deep within her, she shuddered at the emotions it stirred. Stroking his cheek thoughtfully, she pondered his question with confusion . . “I frightened you, Sinold?! How was I cryptic? What are you speaking of? What more than a yes did ye wish from me? *She was truly puzzled, but tried to clear any doubts he must be harboring by adding* Perhaps . . A promise that there will be none other than ye to delight my longings . . that I shall seek your happiness always . . . that I shall fight alongside ye if e’er the need be, or in your stead if it would come to that . . that I would lay down my life to defend you or our children, should there e’er be such that come to find their way to bless us . . that I shall stand with ye, encouraging with all my heart when ye need it, and *she smiled* setting ye straight when ye need that as well . .

I wish to be an ally to ye, in the face of those who nae be willing to accept yer heritage nor yer ways . . nae something ye would own as a pretty trinket, nor an anchor to weigh ye down. I wish to be a wind beneath yer wings, a downy quilt to comfort ye . . *she stopped, unable to word it right*

Be that less cryptic, love? *She could not help but shake her head and smile straight into his eyes* Sinold . . I wish to do this right this time, to nae rush headlong into something we may find we should come to regret. *Moving away slightly, trembling* I wish us both find honor and our place in life here . . preferably together, iffen the fates and our Gods see fit . .

Come . . *rising quickly, grasping his arm tightly* If I remain here in your room . . I . . I nae be as strong as ye think. There is much that must be settled yet *Pulling at him, the frustrations of the long negotiations that lay ahead almost setting her temper to flaring*

[Sinold Bragasson]

(OOC: I did? ooopsy....sowy;) Oh and... he si wearing his pants and boots, just tossed aside his shirt, so not totally nekkid!)

[letha]

((*Bright red face* then I shall delete and completely repost . . *hugs an apology* I misunderstood, can you imagine that? ))

[Sinold Bragasson]

Nonono, leave your post its very endearing:)

[Halethala]

There . . still somewhat endearing, I hope? *hugs* 'Twas just too harsh to leave as it was . .

[Dream Loxley]

(( psssssssst.... I thought you was nekkie too ewwwwww ))

[Sinold Bragasson]

(Your revised post is absolutely smashing. Oh sinny loves you so, my dear! ))

[Sinold Bragasson]

For a long moment, Sinold just sat there on the bed with Letha, her hands in his - almost the closest they would be to touching one another before tehy were rightfully wedded - looking into her eyes, scrutinizing her face, feeling her pulse running through the vessels of her hands. She spoke the truth, there now was no doubt in Sinold's mind. She had indeed said yes!

"Aye… let us ride, Unnasta!" For the first time he used the word for mistress and beloved from his own tongue for Letha. He felt himself being pulled up, the eagerness of his soon-to-be bride was a wonderful thing to behold for the Norse. "Let's saddle Varda and Ligea and ride to the cliffs… and see what else we may learn about one another!"

With a broad smile Sinold quickly pulled over a shirt, belted his sword and daggers and then followed Letha out, to the stables and some freedom from prying eyes.