Trelleborg, night
Orran glanced at Hallerna with a smile, and he drew his gaze to Svala with a twinkle in his eyes “And a baker? Well, I will just have to try this bread then Svala.” He flashed a smile at her and drew his gaze to Anndrais who still knelt at the girls side. Orran let out a sigh “I know you are right, he will not leave that girls side for a second… I know he can handle himself, he’s got the big Saxon on his side.”
He turned his gaze back to Svala, and he drew an inspecting gaze over her. ‘She will become a damned good warrior if trained properly’ and Orran could not deny even to himself her beauty. He shook his head driving the thoughts away and looked at the family with a smile.
“So yes, I accept.” He said plainly, giving them another smile [/i]“Warm hearth, and food would do me good, thank you for the kindness.”[/b] He rolled his shoulders remembering his armour that lay in the mud.“I must recover my armour first, don’t want it to covered in mud.”
“The… Saxon?” Hallerna’s eyes turned toward the healing house, and then caught her breath with the realization. Oh of course - the thrall whose back she’d stitched, the slave now given over to the Ragnarrson household in ‘payment.’ “Oh yes, the one who cannot be beaten into stillness, you mean? Seems nothing will make that man stay abed for long, short of death I imagine,” she continued, a small, grudging smile on her face that reflected a genuine - if reluctant - appreciation for the man’s stamina.
Though the elder woman laughed softly, Svala’s own thoughts were entirely overwhelmed by all the unexpected and unprecedented compliments and attentions, and she could barely say a word at all for all the strangely discomfiting - if pleasant - feeling in her belly. Still, she stood straight by her mother, the hardwon bearded axe still clutched in her hand, smiling her quiet, genuine appreciation to Orran.
“We’re glad to have you Orran, but yes, please - retrieve your things,” Hallerna said with a nod of her head toward the mostly naked man, “We’ll have everything well and ready for dinner by the time you arrive. And… Did you promise Eyja, to teach her to draw - on paper? I would swear, she mentioned something of the sort… Oh! Never mind, go, go and bring your things, and then we’ll talk more, over a warm fire and hot food!”
Orran chuckled softly; looking at Hallerna with a smile “Excellent, I cannot wait.” His gaze drifted to Svala “And you, keep that axe with you…” His tone harsh but the smile on his face gave him away “It suits you… Though, in all honesty I see you as more of a blade person myself. But that is just me.”
He gathered his blades and hefted them to his belt and looked at Hallerna “And yes, I did promise the little one that… And I keep my promises. I will return shortly…” He smiled softly and turned, but not before glancing over Svala another time; She could be great. He thought to himself as he walked out of the healing house door and into the snow.
Shared longhouse, night
“Sit down, Madir. Rest. You’ve done enough this day. I can finish here,” Svala said, softly but firmly, as she placed out the rough wooden plates - four tonight - and she was definitely ignoring Eyja’s insistence she set out an extra plate for Tore the kitten. The apparently boneless little creature was already ‘at home’ in his favorite spot from the moment the little red-headed girl had walked into the shared longhouse, curled over her folded arms legs and tail dangling all akimbo, and watching all the goings on about him with a decidedly self-satisfied feline smirk.
The younger woman went about preparing their small dinner with a quiet efficiency that promised much in the way for her future husband, Hallerna noted with just a touch of trepidation as she did exactly as she was bidden. She gratefully washed her face and hands in the large wooden bowl, tepid as the water was, and watched along the length of their small, makeshift piece of a home, toward the hide curtains that demarcated the hearths of the other small, sometimes broken families who also shared the roof over head.
And she tried very, very hard not to think too deeply, on how little this hospitality truly was from what she might have shown the man who saved her daughters’ lives, not even half a fortnight past. The food, the accommodations and comforts they’d shared in their grand farm longhouse with Sven’s brothers and their families… Hallerna sighed softly, rubbing her tired eyes with the tips of her fingers irritably, tossing the sudden bout of melancholy aside. It’d do her no good, and even if the fare wasn’t nearly what she wished it could have been, she’d ensure she was, at the very least, a more than acceptable hostess to their esteemed guest.
Orran had returned from gathering his armour, leaving the pieces with Anndrais to dry while he wore a small wool jerkin in placed and received the directions to the longhouse where Hallerna and her girls were staying with other family’s as he trudged through the sleet and the mud, up the hill towards the longhouse. The thought of the paper in the small pack he carried with him, and just the tiniest bit of ink; Anndrais never wished to part with his paper or ink easily, and he had argued, that is until Orran had mentioned Eyja’s insistence which finally made the monk relent and part with a small part of his supplies.
As Orran approached the door; he had rolled his shoulders and let out a sigh, this was the first time he had eaten with someone other than Anndrais in quite awhile, the long sail over was not kind to him finding his feet on the ground to be a more acceptable sense of travel. He leaned forward and rasped his fist against the door three times, and leaned back as it opened, a woman he did not recognise was taken aback at his appearance; her eyes shimmered with a hint of fright for the tattooed man before her, the swirling wolves on his face, and the swirls that came to his arms.
Orran held up his hands speaking slowly in the tongue of the danes “I am sorry, I did not mean to frighten you… Does Hallerna from the healing houses reside here?”He spoke softly as he could manage and the woman eyed him over and nodded; opening the door and pointed a finger towards the far-end of the longhouse.
Orran smiled lightly giving the woman thanks as he entered, following the path deeper into the longhouse; and he eyed it curiously, the different curtains and the many people and family’s eating and surviving another night with one another. It echoed to his people’s great homes, built strong over the water, to hold many family’s for great gatherings or in times of war and shelter.
He finally reached where the three sat down, and he caught a glimpse of Svala, rushing back and forth to set up the table, the small smile kept on his features; and he cleared his throat “I am here.” He said softly outside their curtain.
At the sight of the Pict, Hallerna’s smile and mood lifted immediately as she rose to her feet, crossing the small distance to the young man she owed so very much. “Please, come in Orran,” she said, waving him in, offering to take his cloak - a cloak that was once more covered in icy rain and sleet. “Here, let me take that for you, lay it by the fire. Gods be good, maybe this weather will lay off by the time you have to g- “
“ORRAN!” Eyja squealed happily, her face lighting as bright as the hearth’s fire as she looked up from the small game of chase and string she had been trying to tempt Tore to play with. The kitten still slung over one arm like a wrap, the little girl leapt to the Pict and hugged his waist, looking up at him with a wide grin. ”Did you remember?” she whispered, with all a child’s shameless assumption that not only would he know exactly what she was referring to, but that of course he would not so much as think of disappointing her!
After all, she really wanted to show [perhaps show off?] an honest picture of… well, something… On real paper to Ranulf tomorrow!
Hallerna laughed, and waved her youngest daughter back, to little real effect. The little girl’s enthusiasm was positively infectious, and Hallerna honestly didn’t try all too hard really. “Eyja, please at least let the man inside, would you?”
And Svala simply smiled as she began to ladle the hot stew into the turned bowls, cutting thick slices of the flat bread she’d baked only just this morning for the men of Trelleborg. Freya had been kind enough to let her bring some of the ‘fruits of her labor’ back home, to share with her mother and sister, and she was glad there was more than enough slipped in by the thoughtful woman, for her small family, and Orran, and certainly enough for Anndrais as well.
Orran smiled wide as he watched Hallerna stand and strode toward him “It is good to see you again Hallerna, and even more to see a smile on your face.” he shook his shoulders, getting his cloak unclasped and handed it to her “You are more than kind to let me share an evening with your family.”
And as Orran caught Eyja’s eyes and she sprung from her seat he laughed as she sprinted to hug around his waist; The small girl warmed his heart, the softness he shared with Anndrais he mused once, the thing that bound them together, so different but alike.
He leaned down and lifted Eyja in his arms and gave her a hug in return “It is good to see you to little one,” he said not hiding the mirth in his voice, “And Tore to…” As Eyja asked if he had forgotten he scoffed “Me? Forget a promise? Not to you, I’ve got the stuff in my small bag, I had to fight a big bald dragon to get it.” He winked at Eyja; setting her down lightly “But why don’t we save it for after dinner?” Orran asked with a large smiled upon his face.
He glanced up and caught Svala’s smile and gaze, meeting it for a moment “Want to eat while it’s hot, Svala and your mother must have worked very hard on it.” He stood up and rolled his shoulders and stepped inside the smile on his face uncontained, compared to when they first gazed at him, the stern look and darkness in his features vanished around the girls.
Orran chuckled looking at Svala and spoke “I am still interested in this bread you have made Svala.” He gave her a small wink as he walked fully inside towards the hearth.
“Oh no Orran,” Hallerna piped up over her shoulder as she gently shook out their guest’s cloak, laying it out closest to the heart so it might both heat and dry - without getting singed, of course. “This night? All the preparations are Svala’s - our little Swallow has done every last thing, from bread to stew to remembering the drink.“
Far from the songbird that was her namesake, Svala’s face only reddened in exact proportion to the widening of her sweet, sheepish smile. She was never so used to notice nor praise, only ever doing as she’d been raised, as she knew was right before her people and the gods of her fathers. But for all her sweet silence, there was precious little there to say that she didn’t enjoy the teasing of Orran or the praise of her mother immensely. The younger woman fairly shone as she finished readying the plates, and setting out that apparently famous bread of hers.