Diaries of a Dwarven Rifleman

Taarven scowled at her then subsided with a sigh. Casting an aggrieved look at Engvyr he said,

“You see what I have suffered in your absence?”

It occurred to Engvyr for the first time that Ynghilda and Taarven were more or less of an age and had been in a position to spend a lot of time together recently… He kept his smile at the thought to himself.

They talked for some time about local conditions and events, improvements to the Steading's defense, patrol schedules and other matters. As the afternoon wore on the aromas of dinner began to drift in from the kitchens. Saewynn and Deandra herded their children into the hall. Deandra caught his eye and smiled shyly before going about her business.

After dinner he spoke to the two women to see how they were settling in and what their plans were. They were staying temporarily in the great hall, sleeping on the wide benches that lined the sides.

“The children are bouncing back,” Deandra told him, “They're resilient that way. They're good for Saewynn, too. I think that taking care of them has helped her keep it together. I don't know that she could bear it without them.”

“Will you be going west with her?” he asked, not sure whether he wanted her to stay or go away to safety. He liked her and wanted to get to know her better. But that could be problematic, not the least because he would outlive her by centuries.

“I'd not be welcome there,” she said, looking away, “Saewynn's family did not approve of her brother marrying me. It's not something that can be helped now.”

“I cannot imagine you being unwelcome anywhere,” he said and left it at that. He was curious but it was her business and she would tell him or not in her own time. “So what will you do now, you and the children?”

She looked away again and Engvyr noted the tension in her posture.

“They will be going with Saewynn to live with her folks,” she said with an effort, “Their son's children are welcome, just not their mother.”

She turned back to him, her eyes bright with tears, “You are not the only one who sees what's coming. I have to do what's right for my children. I have to know that they are safe.”

“What of you?” he asked.

“Ynghilda has offered me a position. I will be helping in the great hall and around the Steading.”

Engvyr felt a bit guilty at his relief that she would be staying. They talked on into the evening, about trivial things mostly, laying the foundations of a bridge between man and woman, dvaerg and afmaeltinn. They parted with an unspoken understanding between them when it was time for the children to bed down.

Taarven and Ynghilda shared a concerned look as he joined them in the group sitting around the hearth smoking and talking quietly among themselves, but said nothing of it as the evening wore on.

Chapter Fourteen

“Dwarves are long-lived and take the long view. When one expects to be married for centuries it's best to know full well what you are getting into. As a result courtship tends to be a process that stretches to years, even decades before the parties involved commit themselves.”

From the diaries of Engvyr Gunnarson

Deandra Agustdottir rose with the sun and dressed quickly. Since it was early summer the fire in the great hearth was allowed to burn out at night so it was sometimes chilly in the morning. She laid a new fire and when it took satisfactorily she roused her children, Brael and Gerta. They were nine and seven years of age respectively. Saewynn roused her own children and after they were all dressed she herded them to the water closet to attend to their morning ablutions while Deandra went into the kitchens to begin her working day.

She had no fixed duties so she helped as she might with breakfast, stirring the fruit-and oat porridge, slicing side-meat, carrying stacks of clean bowls and spoons and setting them out at the ready. As she worked she thought warmly about her conversation with Engvyr the night before. She had to admit she had been taken by surprise by her attraction to the dvaerg, and his apparent interest in her. It was not so much a physical thing, not yet, though he was not un-handsome for one of his folk. Nor was it girlish worship of the man that rescued her from what was almost certainly what the old tales called a 'fate worse than death.' There was something in her that responded to him, a sense that they complemented each other.