She answered, waiting for him to say, “Surely to the Gods your parents are out of girl’s names by now?" He did not.
As They neared her family’s home, she suddenly turned, “Why did you move here? Bigsby is exactly nowhere,“ she glanced around the forest.
“I wanted exactly nowhere, and it was a very nice forge.”
“I don’t know your name." She had seen him, of course, there was no missing the giant who had moved to the village a few years back, but girls rarely socialized with men outside of their own families. Other than selling him cheese and milk at the market, she had never spoken to him.
"Gunnar Hjalmarson," he said.
So, his father’s name was Hjalmar.
“I am Elin. Elin Balesdottir.”
“I know, from the family with the many pretty daughters and the healthy cows.”
He thought she was pretty, and it made her heart flutter.
“How do you know our cows are healthy?”
“You’ve sold me a lot of cheese.”
“That’s right,” she replied faster than she meant to. In a village where everyone knew everything about everyone, he was something of a cipher. The enormous newcomer always had a kind word for Elin and her little sisters when they manned their stall on market day.
“You eat a lot of cheese,“ she continued.
“I am a terrible cook, and you make good cheese,” he said with a shrug.
“Maybe you need a wife,“ she was shocked at her own forthrightness.
“Maybe, I do,“ he said as they entered the gate of her family’s farm. Natte, the farm dog, trotted over to them, sniffed the newcomer and decided he was nothing to worry about.
Elin tried to take the buckets, but he wouldn’t have it, insisting on walking over and filling the family’s barrel with the water. He looked around the tidy homestead. "There's a stream over there, why do you go so far for water?"
"Not used to cows, are you?"
He was surprised at the right tone of her question but admitted that he knew nothing about livestock.
"Water that shallow gets filthy when the cows walk through it. It's good for them to drink, but not for people."
Seeing the farm through his eyes, she was proud of it.
The wattle fences were tall and sturdy. The barn was large and even so, could barely hold all the livestock. The cows, sheep, and goats were wandering around the sizeable fenced-in pasture, taking advantage of the sunshine and new grass. The four sows had each been put into their own stalls to prevent them harming each other's litters. Her mother was sitting on a large stump, cleaning the grouse that would serve as the family’s main meal of the day. The toddler twins, Marti and Bryjna chased the feathers while Baby Gertie swayed in a cradle hung from a hook in a nearby tree. Another sister was feeding the chickens. Ducks wandered to and fro. It was a pretty, if chaotic scene. Her father was moving through the cows, scrutinizing them. Elin knew that he was deciding which bull calves would be butchered. You couldn’t make cheese without rennet, and you got rennet from the stomach of a calf. On a dairy farm, bulls were not needed in large numbers. There would be veal on the menu very soon. The couple continued to walk closer to the cottage, although Elin was in no hurry to be spotted by her family clad only in a strange man’s tunic.
The entire family stopped what they were doing and came to greet their visitor. As curious as Elin’s appearance was, that wasn’t the only reason. Company was a rarity, and the cozy family farm rarely had such a masculine visitor.
Elin was mortified, she was standing, barefoot with dripping wet hair. Her younger sisters surrounding her, “Why is your hair wet?" and "Where are your clothes?" galvanized her into action.
“I sort of fell in the river,“ she said, hoping to diffuse the situation.
Her mother was not appeased. “How many times have I told you to be careful, that river is dangerous, even with the pulleys!”
The only thing that Elin could say that would upset her mother more was, “actually I was spying on a naked man when I fell in the river, not getting water. Which I had already gotten, without using the stupid pulleys.”
Fearing a public scolding, Elin was quick to say, “It was an accident, they happen sometimes!” and dash towards the house.
Her father thanked him, and her mother offered him a drink. She hurried into the longhouse and stripped off her soaked kirtle. She had two others, one that had been her best dress the year before and was a wee bit short and one that she only wore for special events. She pulled the second-best dress on, donning her other pair of stockings and a pair of shoes that were now a wee bit too small. She had to get out there before her entire family regaled Gunnar with tales of her incompetence.
The men had moved to a large felled tree that faced the earthen oven where her father made charcoal. Elin’s mother proudly poured her best ale into two mugs. Marti and Bryjna had climbed onto the laughing giant and were curiously poking at his bulging muscles. With a grin, he flexed his arm, and the resulting bulge of his bicep made the twins giggle.
“There’s our mermaid,” he said when Elin approached. Elin was not sure how to react, she was glad that he was paying attention to her, but she did not like his ready teasing of her. It was hard not to gape at the man, his hands looked enormous surrounding Marti’s waist as he swung her up high. Marti was not a dainty toddler; a steady diet of rich milk and constant activity had left her sturdy and good-natured.
Elin thanked him for helping her with the water. “My pleasure,” he said, and the smile he rewarded her with was almost worth the teasing. Almost.
After he left, Elin got busy trying to avoid her mother’s studying eye.
“You be careful, we don’t know that boy,” she said.
Elin rolled her eyes, “He‘s the size of a mountain, he’s not a boy.”
“There’s more to manhood than size, “her mother responded archly. Elin surprised a giggle, now that she had seen Gunnar naked, she seriously doubted whether that was true.
Chapter 3
The next morning the blacksmith was waiting for her. As soon as she walked by his smithy, he put down his tools and followed her. Without a word, he reached for the buckets before she could fill them from the cold river. He dipped the buckets under the clear running water, lifted them out as if they were nothing and began the walk back to the farm.
Elin, jogged alongside him, relieved. She should have been embarrassed. Looking foolish usually set her throat on fire and made her temples pound. "I was going to take two trips today and use the pulley, I really was."
"I am sure you were, but I want to help you." There it was, just like everyone else he did pity her father for only having daughters.
"I can do all the work my Da needs help with," she said defensively.
The giant turned towards her, a bewildered look on his handsome face. "Of course, I know that."
"I mean, I do appreciate your help, I do. I'm not rude. I just, just..."
His tone was gentle, “You just what?" Anyone else would have set the heavy, full buckets down as soon as they stopped walking, Gunnar didn’t even seem to remember he was carrying them.
"I'm tired of everyone feeling sorry for my father!" she burst out.
"A pretty hard-working wife, eight healthy children, and a productive farm. Why on earth would I feel sorry for him, I envy him."
"Except he has only girls," she said it with bitterness dripping from her words. "I hear what people say."
"People," he said, “Are usually stupid."
"I agree!"
"I think it would be easier for your father if he had a hired man to do some of the heavier things with him. That does not mean I pity him or wish any of you girls away. Have you ever considered getting a cart to make this easier?”
Elin laughed, "We have one, but the wooden wheels make it harder for me to drag along the path than it is to just carry the damn buckets." She froze, swearing was not ladylike. Her mother would be very cross.
"I
think, your Da is blessed among men. You girls all adore him, and he is managing to keep you all warm and fed. "
"I've heard people say that we are all just a waste of good food that could go to a farm hand."
"Given the choice between a houseful of lively daughters and feeding a farmhand, I know what I would choose."
Elin felt a weight lift off her heart. She had never told anyone how she felt about this. Gunnar didn’t think she and her sisters were a waste of good food. His handsomeness was overwhelming. She fell in beside him, and in much too short a time they arrived at the farm.
Gunnar filled the water barrels. "Bale, Caren," he said as he nodded a greeting to the farmer and his wife. "Caren, what day do you do the washing?"
Caren gave a flustered laugh, “With this crew and two still in diapers, we do some washing almost every day."
Gunnar turned to Bale, “I have a cart that I use to haul tools between my shopfront in town and my smithy. It has iron wheels, it can go on the path just fine. I need a larger one. I thought we could make a trade. You give me the lumber I need to make my new one, and in exchange, you keep the older cart. It's big enough to haul enough water for you for several days. Even," he turned to Caren with a winning smile, “If you have to do some diaper washing."
Elin was impressed, Gunnar had come up with a solution and done it without humiliating her father. Elin allowed her eyes to wander to the lumber pile, wondering if Gunnar really needed lumber, or if it was all a way to make her life easier.
Winter was over, but summer was still a way off. Elin was scouring out the butter churn with salt, and scalding water. When it was warmer, she would clean things and lay them in the sun to prevent them from turning sour. When it was too cold for that, they were scrubbed and then left with enough salt in them to prevent whatever moisture was left from freezing. She would dust out the excess salt the next time she needed them. She saw her father and Gunnar walking towards the woods, deep in conversation. A small flutter under her collarbone was impossible to ignore. She tried to calm herself down by reminding herself, that almost certainly the men were talking about something to do with farming, or smiting, or anything other than her. Still, she had noticed the way the gentle giant watched her, and he was adorable when he played with the little girls on the farm. There was something about the combination of his massive strength and his tenderness that she found compelling.
She dashed those foolish thoughts away, she had work to do. She carried a small bowl of milk and honey to the cheese safe which was built into the side of a hill. The sod was many feet thick so that inside it stayed at a steady temperature all year. If it happened to get too cold, there was a brazier in the middle, and she could light a small fire to warm it up, but that only happened in deepest winter. It got very dark inside, so she propped the door wide open with a rock.
The cheese safe was full to bursting. Elin made a point of moving the cheeses so that the oldest ones would be easy to grab to take to market. She made sure that every cheese was turned. There was no mold, and that was something to be thankful for. Had there been she would have had to scrape it off and then thoroughly wash the cheese and its cheese neighbors in a robust salt solution. She glanced at the bowl of milk and honey, and as she had been taught by her mother, Elin said aloud, “Thank you Drotte." It was always best to keep your tomte happy. The tomte was mostly invisible, but every good dairymaid knew when they had been helpful. A cow would suddenly be healed of mastitis, butter in danger of souring would stay sweet, or a years’ worth of cheese could all stay mold free.
It was a good sign that this late in the year nothing was contaminated. The girls in the family made sure to treat Drotte with respect, and she returned their largesse by blessing their efforts. The sound of footsteps reached her ears. Two men were walking on the top of the hill. Elin pressed herself against the wall of the cheese safe near the door and listened intently, “ No one can doubt your work ethic, son. But we aren’t used to strangers around here, I wish I knew more about your family.” Elin froze, the only stranger in the village these days was Gunnar.
She gave the door the merest bit of a nudge so that she could hear better.
“My mother died when I was a boy. When I returned from the wall, my father arranged an apprenticeship for me. I lived with Raike at his forge near Varpan.”
“He is famous,” her father interrupted,” He is known for his swords, isn’t he?”
“He was, he passed away a few years ago. ” Elin could not see the men, but she guessed that while they were not speaking Gunnar was showing her da the tattoo at the base of his neck. When a tradesman left his master, he was tattooed with the master’s mark as evidence that he had completed his training.
“Raike was a generous master, I will forever be grateful. My own father had died my first year as an apprentice, and Raike was incredibly kind.”
“So, you have no living family?”
Elin could hear the pity In her father’s voice.
“I have a half-brother who lives with his mother. I make sure they are well taken care of, but I do not talk to them often. My father married after I had left for the wall. My brother Carr is an apprentice to a scribe, but I understand from the last time I heard from him that he hates it. I have tried to discuss it with my stepmother, but, well, she does not see me as the sort of man you take advice from.” The pain in Gunnar’s voice was palpable.
“Well, leaving the Snowforce before becoming a knight is hardly anything to be ashamed of. I think almost all the boys who do, don’t finish. As long as you left under honorable conditions…”
“This tattoo is my honorable discharge mark.” Elin was going to have to make a point of looking for that the next time she could see the man. Unfortunately, her father’s response, “You should be nothing but proud, son,” gave her no idea about where the tattoo might be. She tried to remember if she had seen it at the river. She did not, other things had drawn her attention.
There was silence for a few moments, and then her father continued,” I’ll have to talk to her mother of course. Do you realize how stubborn Elin is? I mean, she’s a daughter to be proud of, but she might not be the easiest girl to be a husband to."
Gunnar’s voice responded, “She is all I dream about, and I think I am up to the task of loving her and taking her in hand.”
Her father replied, “You just might be. You do know, I expect her to be treated kindly, even if, who am I kidding, when she needs to be corrected.”
Gunnar sounded solemn, “I would cut off my right hand before I would harm her, regardless of her behavior.” His voice took on a less somber tone, “I like her cheekiness, she’s brave and strong. Now, the fibbing to me is going to stop. NO more not using the pulleys and lying about it, no more saying she will do one thing and immediately doing another.”
“Good luck with that one,” her father chuckled, and Elin felt her cheeks begin to burn. Her father continued in a more somber tone “I have no objections, son. I believe that Caren will be delighted with the match, but I will speak to her, and then we will see what Elin thinks."
“Thank you, sir.” Said Gunnar.
“Don’t thank me yet, I would sooner feed a diamond to my goats then force a match. If she is interested, you may get to know her better. I promise nothing else. I appreciate you doing things proper like and coming to me first, but Elin will make a choice.”
“Of course,“replied the suitor.
Standing in the middle of a hill of ripening cheeses, Elin gave an excited little hop. She was courting.
Chapter 4
Elin did her best to appear unruffled all through supper. While everyone else ate their meal, her attention was all over the place. They had forgotten to open the beds. The girls all had beds built into cabinet along the walls. This allowed them to be shut during the day and kept them warm at night. They usually opened the doors before they sat down to eat to allow the warm air to move into them. Noticing it Elin jumped up and swung the doors open a lit
tle too vigorously.
"Sit down, eat your meal," Caren said gently. It was rabbit with leeks, and usually, Elin would have devoured every bite. Instead, she pushed her food around with her spoon and ended up feeding most of it to Marti, who was a perpetually ravenous little sprite. Her parents didn’t seem to notice her jitteriness. They were busy planning the next day's trip to the market. Elin and ten-year-old Jelys would work at the stall. Dagmar and Ingrid would stay home to watch the toddlers and do the chores. Caren apologized to the girls for not having regained her strength yet. The girls were quick to reassure her.
“We love going to market, you rest,” Elin said. Caren had always recovered quickly, even after having twins, but this time she seemed to not have any color in her cheeks, and her fatigue was painfully evident.
As they finished their meal, the girls moved like a well-oiled machine to scrub the dishes. The three-year-old twins energetically wiped the table, showering the floor in crumbs which Jelys swept up.
Dafne and Ingrid carefully filled the bed warmer with coals. Nate was let out to do a last check on the farmstead, and then as he did every night, he turned in circles several times before settling down to sleep just inside the door.
Bale asked the girls to warm their parents’ bed first. This was unusual since they usually put the youngest girls to bed first. Baby Gertie slept with her mother, of course. The four younger girls shared one large bed, and above it was the bed shared by the three older girls. It was cozy, but once Gertie was weaned it was going to be a tight squeeze.
Caren prepared some oats that would simmer in the coals all night and break the family's fast. She was an efficient and organized farm wife. The bowls and spoons, once clean and dried were set back on the table for the next morning. A crock full of diced dried fruit was placed near the bowl. As soon as the early milking was done, the family would enjoy a hearty breakfast.
Elin offered to prepare Gertie for bed. Staying close to the fire where it was the warmest, she removed Gertie’s soiled woolen diaper, and gently washed her bottom with warm water. The baby giggled and cooed, and Elin grabbed a chubby little foot to kiss the toes. She rediapered her and pulled on first a flannel nightgown that had a drawstring at the hem and then a knitted gown that had a hood. Gently drying the baby’s hands and face, Elin pulled the hood up over the baby’s head. Gertie was now warm and snug and looked like a pea in a woolen pod. Once their parents’ bed was warm, Da said, "You big girls get the youngsters ready for bed, Modre and I need to speak to Elin."
Her Gilded Firebird: Book Three in the Norse Warriors series Page 2
