Her arm still wrapped about Svala, Hallerna allowed a respectful distance between herself and her daughter, and the two men in all Trellesborg for whom she held a genuine debt of gratitude. Loker had said he wished words with Orran, and she pulled Svala into her cloak like she was not much more than a little girl anymore, savoring the warmth of her eldest daughter for a few moments more while she still could. 

Hallerna had not missed the lingering eyes of Ragnar's two young raiders. One seemed little more than a boy to her eyes, no older than her son Tore had been, with his laughing eyes and his easy smile. The elder did not let his eyes linger though, respect - she could only hope - curbing any leering gazes. Her husband Sven had indulged her and, in another world, another life, would have indulged her further still, keeping Svala with them for yet another couple years at the least until just the perfect husband came for their incomparable Little Swallow. They were well enough off that there was no need for the dowry Svala's nuptials would have brought. 

And Sven would deny his Hallerna nothing at all, no least thing at all if it were in his power to give.

But that indulgence of her whims had cost Svala a vital measure of safety. This night, it could have very well cost her life. Hallerna shivered once more, wrapping her arms tighter still about Svala a moment longer, closing her eyes with the subtle pain of seeing her own brash, selfish foolishness in such keen, intimate detail. 

And Svala only laughed, and hugged her mother tighter still in response. [i]"Madir, I can't breathe,"[/i] she whispered. Hallerna's eyes widened in surprise as she stepped back, and began to chuckle warmly herself. Lost some moments to her own thoughts, Hallerna looked up to realize Orran and Loker had shared what words they would, and the housekarl had turned into the healing house. 

"Orran?" Hallerna called, walking to the painted man with Svala alongside her. "Orran - oh, you must collect your things, but tonight? It would be an honor to offer you dinner this evening. I cannot promise anything near to some grand feast, but it will be hot and good and filling. And Svala has even made the bread herself - I hear tell it is very, very good."

Hallerna winked playfully at her daughter, before she nodded quickly toward the healing house. "And Anndrais too of course - though I doubt anything would pry him from Tora at all, much less sustenance. But you could bring him something to eat if you would - even he must be exhausted by now. And for Tora as well if you will, if the poor girl can down a bit of food at all, it would only do her unending good." 

"Please, when you collect your things of course. It would be a pleasure to break bread with you tonight, and share what fare our small home has to offer, in thanks."

[center]*****[/center]

"Loker!" Eyja beamed brightly at the auburn-haired giant she recognized from this very morning, the very man who so wisely recognized all her undeniable skill at bearing his ale without a single drop spilt! She had only just caught his eye when he'd glanced her way while she played their made-up game with Dagny. But once she had his gaze, she was reluctant to let it go so quickly. 

Besides, something seemed just a little... [i]Off.[/i]

Dagny's small hand still in her own, Eyja strode with all the purpose an eight-year old girl can possibly muster to the housekarl, fiery red curls bouncing all about her shoulders where they escaped the confines of her long-loosened braid. She only released Dagny's hand long enough to wrap her arms tightly about Loker's waist, hugging him with all her small strength, for no better reason at all that he seemed [i]heavy[/i], weighted down by... By... She knew not what really, some sadness. And it simply didn't suit him at all.

"Come here," she said almost imperiously, as if an eight-year old little girl had any right way in the world to demand a single thing of a grown man, a freeborn Dane, a seasoned raider and the housekarl of the Jarl of this fort. 

"No silly, down[i] here[/i]. C'mon, a little further - don't worry Loker. I won't hurt you or nothin'." That list of accomplishments and titles seemed to matter little to Eyja as she waved him closer, and closer still, until he might finally bend to the little girl's height. 

The tips of her small fingers wiped furiously at the worry lines that creased the housekarl's forehead, between his brows and the suddenly grim set of his mouth. And where good ale had once dribbled through that heavy beard, Eyja pushed gently at the corners of his mouth, forcing them upward time and again, her own little brow furrowed in concentration. 

"There now... Hold it. Just hold it right there... Perfect! See Dagny?" Eyja's face brightened like the summer sun at the sight. "Loker's face was meant for smiles. Not frowns. See?"

Eyja folded her arms over her chest in perfect satisfaction, setting back just a little to admire the results of all her 'hard work.'