Coming home

[Sinold Bragasson]

(This be a continuation of THIS THREAD)



It was night when the small company of seven arrived on one of the hills looking down upon windstorm castle. Hardly any lights safe for those around the main gate were lit, the light in the room where Sinold knew Letha was living was down as well. He imagined her sleeping soundly, maybe dreaming of him?

"Good men, let us rest for the night under the stars so that the good people of Windstorm may greet you with their eyes open and their voices cheerful in the morrow. This is as good a place to rest as any… you will be getting a hearty welcome I assure you, in the morrow!"

Thus they stayed on that hill… Sinold sitting down onto the grass, his knees drawn up, his chin resting on his knees… trying to imagine what Letha may look like when she saw him again… and how he could properly greet her back showing her his love and devotion!

[Righarde]

*The men were in good spirits as they sat with Signold that night. Their comradery was obvious and they seemed to hold a brotherly love for each other. Many sang songs about the camp fire and challenged each other with witty remarks to rebuttle the others words made in jest.
It was a good night, the horses were tied nearby and cared for, each had an oat bag to call his own. The man who was obviously the leader spoke. His name was John Bremen.*

well Sir, we ask only that we rest one night before moving on. We are to ride to the south then and bring home a trading caravan to Kent. If you like you may catch us in three days riding close to here. Perhaps your Lady would like some new wares?

*again the singing began and John joined in with good cheer. It was good to be a Kentman he thought*

[Sinold Bragasson]

"A caravan you say? Oh tell me, what goods will they carry? I am sure my lady would love to find something for herself. She has earned it… I have been away for long… but for the time you will stay with us in windstorm, you will be guests of honor. The brother of your king should be there still to welcome you also."

The night was long still and spend with even more song and stories. They were good men, Sinold thought, and Kent would be a good allie to have on their side should the Franks start anything foolish.

[Righarde]

aye

*John grinned*

they are filled with tapestry, vials of perfumed oil and olive oil. Some carry cloth of the finest tread that I have never seen in any other place. Twice has this caravan been attacked so we go to assure it will come to no harm.
Still, I think your return will be a gift enough but she will be pleased. I hope you will assure us that there will be some left for the women of Kent. Empty caravans could mean angered women of Kent!.

*a laugh came to all men though they knew Johns words were no lie. The night passed well. Two kept guard at all times then rested and woke their comrades who would take up their duty till the dawn arrived. The stranger was not bad for a stranger John thought though he did not know of the slight Sinold had done to their Prince*

[Midnight]

Large black ears flicker lightly as I look about and then mewl lightly to those in the castle as I pad around the Main hall a bit

[Halethala]

Gone for several weeks now, and only one word of him, not even "from" him either . . Why was it that she didn’t cherish that which was often most precious to her until it was beyond easy reach . . but such was the nature of the human heart.

The time had passed in rather a blurr when she’d been ill, most of it spent sleeping after the days of being occupied with the gnawing pain. But once she began to regain her strength, when she should have found much to keep her hands busy once again, time seemed to ebb to a crawl. What she once found joy in doing, now seemed less so. She soon began to haunt the castle Library, searching through the scrolls . . noticing that many were beginning to fade and would soon need to be re-copied, lest the contents be lost forever. . .

The one she had found today was startling. A coincidence, perhaps? The good Ranger Nicholas had again brought up the conflict with the Norse invaders against Windstorm just two short years ago, and then, she had come across the written account of it . . Taking it carefully down, she sat for an hour, reading . . in turn, shocked and angry . . and often aching with sorrow for those that had died . . on both sides.

Standing to stretch, she decided to take the scroll outside and read in the fresh air of the lovely gardens. Perhaps the warm sunlight would put a bit of color to her still pale cheeks. She fetched up a lavendar quilt made of muticolored soft cotton, and set out . .

The sun had just passed it's zenith when she spread the lovely quilt out near a row of wild roses, near the center of the gardens . . settling in, successfully ignoring the urge to pick at the few stray weeds that dotted the ground beneath the bushes, she propped the scroll before her, devouring the history held within it.

It wasn't very successful in getting her mind off Sinold . . she supposed that unconsciously, she really hadn't wanted to . . and soon, depite her keen interest in the reading, she nodded off to pleasant, dream-filled slumber . .

[Sinold Bragasson]

Sinold didn't sleep that night on the hill overlooking Windstorm castle. Even after the men who had accompanied him had gone to sleep - apart from two who held guard - Sinold still sat there on the hill looking down to his home.

How would Letha greet him? Would she be overjoyed? Or angry with him for leaving without much of a word? By now she would know how his spar with Lord Hawkmoon had ended, maybe she would reprimand him for not telling her himself? But then he thought of all the things he had brought back, for their future. She would understand when he explained his reasoning.

And then - what would Lady Edfeil tell him when she saw that Ligea was coming home wounded? He would tell her she should be thankful Ligea was still here in the first place… no, Edfeil was Sinold's lesser worry.

The morning came and the seven men saddled up. His leg was still hurting and not fully usable. He had fashioned a crutch from a sturdy branch so he could walk alright, but it worried him how the others at Windstorm would look at him. Health was a big factor in Norse society. Only the healthy and strong survived and gained respect. Only the strong came home with riches from their voyages. He came home limping, and it angered Sinold immensely. But it couldn't be helped. He only prayed to Thor that Letha and the other woman wouldn't fuss over him as they usually did. After all, he did bring back riches! Moderate but a good addition to any bridal price Agustin would ask for Letha.

The men rode up to the gate and holding up his hand Sinold signalled to the gate watches that it was him, coming with friends. He could see smiles on their faces and quickly the main gate was opened to admit the men inside.

His travelling companions were welcomed with open arms, their horses given places in the stables, as did Perrin find a large corner for the four Iceland ponies Sinold had brought with him. It seemed that Letha was nowhere about in the castle, according to the servants, an the Norse reckoned that she might be in the gardens. Excellent! He asked two of the stronger boys to bring his gifts and weapons upstairs to his room, and come back with a clean shirt for him. While he waited in the courtyard, he chatted with the Kent man, telling them where their rooms would be, assuring them that their King's brother was still here - he had espied Sighehelm's enormous horse in the stables - and thanked them again for their help and companionship.

After that his feet guided Sinold straight to the hot springs to wash the grime of the road off his skin. It was a quick soak, and the arms of the water seemed to want to lull Sinold under into the land of morpheus, but he valiantly battle his fatigue and washed up hair and body quickly, using the old shirt to dress his leg wound for the time being. There would be time for better bandaging later. His pants and new shirt on, he wrung out his hair, and then began his search for his Letha.

He finally found her in the garden. She lay on a blanket, sleeping. She looked so lovely as she lay there, Sinold had to pause, swallowing, brushing back his hair in a vain attempt at tidying up a bit. He stepped closer, carefully… she was fast asleep it seemed. Sinold then did the natural thing for him- discarding his boots, he laid down beside his love onto the blanket. Gently, so as to not disturb her sleep. For a very long moment he lay there, watching her peaceful face, her lips so inviting yet to kiss a sleeping woman would be most unseemly, in this land. So instead Sinold draped an arm across her hips, snuggled as close as he could without waking Letha, and then promptly fell asleep, to dream of the moment when he'd wake up again.

[Lady Edfeil]

*He had arrived! He finally had arrived! Edfeil nae cared what anyone said: Sinold was a member of her family, and thus he was under her care! And now he had come home after a week long journey.

With a smile 'pon her face, she asked for millie and mollie to make certain his room was readied to welcome him back. She knew the linnens would be fresh as the servants kept rooms and the entire castle in perfect order. Then to cook she asked to see iffen he could prepare young, roast boar as indeed 't was favoured by the norseman!

In the hall she then awaited his arrival. Surely he would have tales to tell. And mayhap bring tidings from the outside world. She looked forward to hearing him speak of what he had found for the bridal price, and iffen the meade was bought, or iffen they should trade for 't. Aye... she wanted to hear the stories! And mostly... she wanted to see for herself that what she told the Lady Halethala was truth: he would be well!

[Halethala]

Her toes curled, then flexed as she began to stir to wakefulness . . the stretching starting way down at her feet and traversing the length of her body. It was such a delicious feeling to wake up . . . as consciousness began it’s dawning, she sensed that the weight upon her hip was not quite right, yet did not recognize why at first . . she felt the warmth of nearness to a living being before recognizing there was someone close . . felt the feathery puffs of his even breathing on her shoulder . . . a sweet whiff of cleanness lightly masking the unmistakable scent of well-worn leather . . the sensations worked to jumble up her thinking processes, leaving her lanquidly unsure what was dream and what was truth . .

Unconsciously she decided it was dream . . it had to be. Without opening her eyes, a smile formed on her lips, and she very slowly moved to snuggle in closer to this dream . . her arm came up to gently pull the dream towards her . . .

She stopped . . her hand closed about the wet hair, and with a shock of rapid recognition, she realized . . this was no dream! Her eyes flew open, hope kindling a fire in them, and her sleepy voice let out a garbled little cry . .

SINOLD!!

[Sinold Bragasson]

"OUCH!“ His cry was as strangled as the one that had woken him from his slumber. His eyes open in an instant, but his nose telling him he could’t be at a safer place – right in letha’s arms. Sleepily Sinold blinbked and then propped himself up on his left elbow, looking at his beloved with a wide grin, gently disentangling her hand from his hair.

“Letha! …I hope you’ll reconsider how you’ll wake me from my slumber in the future?”

He opened his arms, looking lovingly at the woman laying next to him. “Can I get a proper welcome from you now? ….Oh Letha, I truyl have missed you!”

[Lady Edfeil]

*She paced the hall. Where was that Norseman? Surely he had washed and refreshed himself by now. Surely he knew she would have been worried. Did he succeed in his mission? Did he find what he seek? And what had he bought for the bridal price.
She had tidings of course, and she needed to speak of the dowery. To see what he would wish for a dowery. 't was a mans task normally, but since her father negotiated the bridal price, he could nae speak for the dowery.

She wanted to hear of his journey. Wanted to know how Ligea had fared the long travel. How Kent was doing as he travelled through. So many questions.*

[Halethala]

Before his last words had reverberated to silence, she’d shushed his lips with hers, arms wrapped tightly about him as if by doing so, he would never leave so long again . . “At last, ye are here again to awaken” she finally whispered right into his ear. “I shall find a new way to do so each dawning day so that ye will never lack for surprises . . “ She then drew back so she could look at him carefully, tracing his features with her gaze . . . hoping to read much by the condition of his face . . and his eyes. All his eyes held now were tender affections . .

“So you are back . . how long so hae ye been?” Her tongue, now loosened, unleashed an avalanche of questions all asked at once, not waiting for answers . . . “Did ye find success to your goals? Find the way quiet, or laden with dangers? Find the people receptive and kind? Find the folk of Kent welcoming? Why did ye need to “rest” there for a time? . . . .

“Ach, but Sinold . . more than anything . . why did ye feel it necessary to leave so suddenly? Without a word to any of farewell? Without a kiss to your Letha? Ye won the sparring, I was told . . there were no dishonor on your part . . But these things I had to hear from another?”

With tears threatening, she realized it no longer mattered . . . she gathered him close again, nestling beneath his chin, her ear pressed to his heart, the desire to pound her fists against his chest soon passing again. “You are back . . perhaps nae for long, who knows? . . I will treasure what I can of ye . . “

She moved to rise, her new leanness making her efforts more supple than before. Extending her hand to help him up “Come, ‘tis unfair to nae share ye . . *Twinkling smile to her eye now* Though perhaps nae all will greet your return with joy, I know of at least one who is anxious to hear from ye, my wandering Viking . . . “

As he made his efforts to rise, she immediately noticed . . . and caught her breath . .

[Sinold Bragasson]

Even though he started to stand, he found that his leg was protesting too much, and so his eyes pleaded with Letha to stay here with him for a while.

"No need to rush it, Letha. those others can wait... I, on the other hand, can not. Come, sit with me... you look thin, my beloved!" There was concern in his voice when he ran his fingers over her cheek, feeling her warms. "Should I chide cook for not feeding you properly?" he laughed a bit, then took her hand, kissing them and placing them against his heart. " I don't want to see any other but you right now!" he caught her glance down to his leg, but didn't lose his smile. "Aah, what hinders my walk is but a scratch by now, and those who inflicted such wound upon me didn't live long afterwards. I even brought back their hide..." He grinned". And I brought back much more. To the Danelaw I went, didn't I tell you such in my letter? I went to get something for you... something that any proper bride needs – a traditional bridal crown. Normally, if you and I were in my old home, you would wear my mother's but since that is not so... I brought one back for you to wear when you'll become my wife!"

Sinold beamed and again kissed Letha's hands. "You don't know how much those people in the Danelaw remind me of home, Letha. they are my kin, and... for a short time while I was there... I wished I could have stayed with them." Now he looked earnestly into her eyes, cupping her chin. "But I soon realized my home is here now, in Windstorm. With you, and all who live here. But... I would like to show you, the Danelaw and its people. Since we likely will n'er be sailing to Iceland." He smiled at her, squeezing her hands before continuing.

"My leg is nothing to worry about. 'twas just a few wolves who were eager to loose their skins after I showed them that my leg was no feast for them ... I killed two of them, and brought back their hides. It will make a nice trimming for any dress you may wish to make for fall! I might have perished, as would have Ligea, had it not been for another man's gracious help. You know Lord Sighehelm, right? His brother is the king of Kent, and he found me... I spend a few days there and I must tell you, a more generous man there never lived! He even spared men to help me home. But those poor people are besieged by enemies as well..." He paused again, a frown darkening his face, but soon disappeared since he now wished to dwell on some more pleasant news.

"But enough of that sadness, there will be time enough to talk about trouble and strife." Sinold leaned forward and kissed Letha's brow. "But there is something I wish to show you now, my love, come with me! Now close your eyes and no peeking!"

Now Sinold got up and held his hand out to Letha, pulling her up almost effortlessly. He again noticed how thin she had become, which was not a good thing. Only a woman in her good strength and with full hips and bosom would endure the labors of future child bearing well. He would need to ask her more about this later, maybe ask Edfeil what had been up with her. But now, he simply pulled her along, limping as fast as he could to the stables, his excitement rising. When the arrived, he pulled Letha with his through the stables, to a smallish pasture somewhat behind them where a smaller parcel was cordoned off by wood planks. Perran had done good work, Sinold noticed and then led Letha to the wooden fence so she could place her hands onto it.

"No peeking yet... I thought to myself when I was in my kin's country, what could I do to earn a living. I am no sailor, no matter how much Tyrun thinks that way. I am also no merchant. I am a warrior, and when I am not that, I know a good deal about horses. Soooooooooooo... this is what I have bought, for our future! Open your eyes!"

His eyes shone like those of a small boy when he watched Letha as she beheld his new little herd of horses. These are Iceland horses. They are smaller than what people have here but they are sturdy, hard and good workers and make excellent war horses. This over there is
Erling, the stud for the two mares I bought. His names means "son of a chief" for he has the most noble bearing.



Over there those other two are mares, the right one is Jord, meaning "daughter of the night" because she was born in the nighttime, and the other is Idun, which means "love crazy" for she is after any stud she sees.



"Sinold laughed. "Don't blame me, those are the names given to them by their former owner and I will keep those names. But that little one over there," he pointed to a foal which lay in the grass, "that one doesn't have a name yet. It is yours, Letha! For you to name and keep."



Sinold watched Letha intensely watching the horses frolic on the meadow before them, and he hoped she would like what he had brought home.

[Halethala]

She would have loved to simply knead her strong fingers into the thick, travel-weary muscles of his broad shoulders, soothing the aches of his journey away as he spoke, but he was a whirl-wind of exuberance in all he had to tell and show her! It was overwhelming, so much at once! But that was Sinold . . more energy than two men, and thrice as generous . .

Deftly ignoring his query towards her emaciated form, she bit her tongue as he waved aside her worried look at his “scratches”, eyes widening at first when he mentioned bringing back someone's hides, of course assuming it be men who attacked him . .

“I should have loved to have worn your mother’s crown, Sinold, if that be a cherished tradition of thy land . .” *<perhaps it still nae be impossible?> She almost added, but wisely did not. “I cannot wait to see it, I’m sure it be a lovely piece.” Spoken with softness . . her hand straying to comb through the blonde mane that framed his eager face . .

“Aye, the good King sent word of ye to his brother, Sighehelm, who was the picture of gentlemanly kindness in conveying it to me.” Her eyes twinkled with merriment then, “Even the kiss ye seemed to wish passed on as well . . . “

She simply let it go at that, and then sobered, “Ah, but there were fears ye would find yer own kinsman a welcome relief to the challenges ye all too oft find here, where the Norse nae always be accepted easily. I . . . I wondered iffen ye may not have thought twice about returning . . But here ye are . . "

Before she could become maudlin at the memory of her fears, darkened by the sad news of the good folk of Kent, which only reminded her of their own preparations churning quietly into swift readiness, he had her on her feet with yet more to show and tell! To the stables, was it, the direction they headed towards? She suspected . . remembered his hopes . .

Laughing again at his zest for surprises, she tried to play along and not peek, finding it difficult to stumble along blindly, even at his somewhat slowed pace. She steeled herself not to nettle him with womanly admonitions about caring for his leg wound, knowing he would nae listen anyway, he would do what he would do . . realizing that was part of his endearment, when it wasn’t infuriating. Gripping his hand tightly, trusting his guidance as she listened, her face flushed with the contagiousness of his enthusiasm, she hesitated once he allowed her vision again . . hoping dearly she would like what she saw . .

“Oh!” Was all she said at first . . and he did not know what to make of it . . spoken ambiguously, yet with awe. She had never seen this breed before . . they were not sleek and beautiful, almost looking stunted and disproportioned to her untrained eye. Yet when they moved as they grazed, she could see they were indeed sturdy and well-balanced, the one called Erling of regal bearing and powerful, fluid movement. Her face softened in growing affection, and was won over entirely when her eyes fell upon the tiny foal . .

She crouched down low to eye level with her, beckoning her close with steady eye contact and an instant sense of deep love for the her, knowing she would not yet trust enough to come to her, yet hoping. The little foal did not move, the soft dark eyes gazing back at Letha in unblinking curiosity.

"I should wish to call her ‘Behatan’, Promise, for they are a portent of a good future for us, Sinold, . . yet if later a more fitting name should present itself for her, perhaps it can be a good nickname . . though I do not know how I will ever let one of their dear little ones e’er be sold!"

She turned to him at last, voice husky with gratitude and depthless with love, wrapping her arms about him very tightly, “To have you back is gift enough, Sinold” Then hardly able to whisper the rest, tears obscuring, “I do nae deserve ye, Deorheorte, and yer endless generosity . .

I love ye so so much . .