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Old 02-27-2007, 03:36 PM   #115
bill_n_sam
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Join Date: Sep 2006
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Gunna and Mem turned their heads towards the door at the sound of Tora’s voice. Thinking the girl had forgotten to pass along some bit of gossip to Mem, Gunna barely heeded Tora’s words as she shifted the now sleeping child to a more comfortable position in her lap. Mem, however, gave a sharp intake of breath, causing Gunna’s mind to focus on the fact that Tora had not bothered to step inside, and the girl’s words finally registered.

“Gunna, Mem, it's me, Tora. Dag told me to say...he told me to announce to you that the Lord Ulfast, our chieftain's son wishes... that he wants Mem to come to the feast he is giving tonight and to sing for him.“

The sisters exchanged startled and unbelieving looks. Hurriedly, Gunna placed her daughter in Mem’s arms and leapt to her feet, moving quickly to the door and poking her head out. The narrow street was crowded with townspeople hurrying about their business, anxious to get home to afternoon tasks and preparations for the evening meal. Gunna could just make out the back of Tora’s head as the girl walked swiftly in the direction of the east gate. “Tora! Tora – wait! What did you say?” Gunna’s cries went unheeded as the girl slipped out of sight, not having heard her friend’s calls.

Or perhaps Tora did not wish to have to repeat herself, Gunna thought grimly, realizing that she had undoubtedly heard aright – her husband had somehow obligated Mem to entertain Ulfast and his cronies . . . ? At a feast?

Shaking her head in confusion, Gunna drew back inside the growing dimness of her little house, saying “Stir the embers, Mem, and lay some wood on the fire. Fetch the roasting spit and I’ll start on this venison.”

Mem did as instructed, but her sister knew the young girl was bursting with unvoiced questions. It was not until the meat had been well rubbed with salt and sage and hung dripping over the flames, and Gunna had thrust a bowl of parsnips into Mem’s hands for peeling that the girl ventured to speak.

“What do you make of Tora’s words, sister?” Mem asked, trying to keep her tone casual, but failing utterly.

Gunna shook her head once more, truly having no answer. “I can’t fathom it, Mem. How is it that Ulfast, son of our highest chieftain, bids you sing at his feast? And what feast is this Tora spoke of? I know the Borrim were feasting this night, but I’ve heard nothing of Ulfast, or his father or brothers for that matter. I can only think it must have to do with the elves.” Again, Gunna felt a now familiar tightening of her stomach muscles as the thought of the emissaries and their message filled her heart with foreboding. She looked at her sister, a frown of uncertainty on her face. “Did Kata or the others speak of it before I arrived home?”

Mem shook her head in the negative. “No. They said no word of it, as I’m sure they would have if they had known something of it. Do . . . do you think then, that . . . “ The girl’s voice trailed off, not wanting to sound too eager for Tora’s words to be true, but hoping with all her heart they were so. She knew her sister well enough to realize that Gunna would be dead set against her going to such a gathering. Yet still, her own heart knew no heaviness, but beat brightly and joyously at the prospect of attending, and actually singing, at a chieftain’s fete. Even now, her mind was racing with thoughts of which songs might best please such a man as Ulfast, and the other lords and chiefs.

“I don’t know what to think.” Gunna replied, somewhat sharply. “All I know is that my husband sends word of such a happening through another, and that itself does not bode well – for any of us.”

Mem took the reprimand quietly and kept about her peeling, knowing in the end it would be Dag who decided whether she went or stayed, not Gunna. Much as she loved her sister, the girl knew in a matter such as this, with a chieftain beckoning, a wife could not well refuse to obey her husband, just as he could not refuse his lord.

Gunna’s lips were set in a tight line. She needed desperately to speak with Dag, to find out what had transpired, how this had all come about. But she had already absented herself from the home once today, with a mixed result. She did not feel comfortable leaving once again, leaving her sister and child alone, unguarded, now that she knew that somehow Mem had come to the attention of one of Ulfang’s son. It was no secret that Mem had a beautiful voice and knew many songs. Most of the women around had visited with them a time or two, to trade for yarn and thread, and gossip. Mem was popular with their neighbors, not only for her good humor and gentle ways, but her wit and ability to make even the sourest matrons laugh. But for word of her abilities to have reached as far as the ears of one such as Ulfast, no, Gunna would never have expected that. It was with a growing suspicion, and fear, that Gunna wondered if this was yet another ploy on the part of the chieftain’s son to draw Dag into his clutches and bind her husband to him. On the eve of the arrival of these messengers from the north, perhaps Ulfast saw a need for a skilled smith, and armorer in his camp.

Wiping blood from her hands, Gunna lifted Mem’s hand to turn the spit, taking the bowl of parsnips from her. In resignation, she said heavily, “We will wait, for Dag. He will tell us what we must do.”

Last edited by bill_n_sam; 02-27-2007 at 03:45 PM.
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