Please pray

for my son. His kidneys are failing. and we are waiting or the local hospital to tranfer him to a bigger hospital in Florida, We are very scared, He also has pulmonary anemia.

My Sweet Thing Chapter 12 I go to extremes

Tags

LOTR, fanfiction, rohirrim

My Sweet Thing

Chapter 12

I go to extremes

Her rabbit snare knots were atrocious. The fish ran from her line. The only fish she caught were small and puny and had to be thrown back.

But she was wicked with a slingshot.

“Can you do that to a fish?”

!ping! The fish floated to the top, stunned, waiting for her to pick it up.

“Damn!”

Cooking was still a travesty. It was decided if she could catch enough, he would roast it. Or fry it. Or bake it even.

All right, he wouldn’t bake it. They didn’t have an oven yet, but once they did build one behind their home… watch out!

They laughed. They laughed a lot, took joy in each other’s company, discovering what the other found funny. But most of the time, they spent rolled up in Elfhelm’s cloak, kissing. The first time his hand brushed against her breast, she jumped, attempted to pull back.

“Don’t. Relax.”

“But-”

“I am addressing your fear. Relax.” Gently, his palm cupped the side of her breast, the thumb grazing her through her tunic. He kissed her again, giving her other things to worry with, like his tongue, which tended to find its way in her mouth and ear and behind her ear and her neck…

“This is making you tingle.”

Lýðrest’s own mouth was on his Adam’s apple, attempting to do to him what he was doing to her. “What makes you think that?”

Her head was cupped in his hand as his own mouth slid to that sensitive spot along her jaw line. “Your nipple is hard.” His thumb caressed the ever-enlargening nub.

“Will yours get hard?” She was breathing heavy and the heat in her gaze was just what he had been hoping for. Quickly, they jumped on their horses, headed to their cottage. When they reached it, Lýðrest hurried inside while Elfhelm took both horses to the stable. It was the fastest he had ever unsaddled and fed two equines in his entire life.

Unfortunately, he ran home, to hear his wife crying behind the privacy screen.

Her menstrual cycle had started.

~~~…~~~

Elfhelm returned to his duties after those few precious days and that perfect moment lost. He found his office well tended and Lýðrest’s clerking of his duties to be more than adequate.

“She’ll make an excellent clerk,” Gamhelm told him. “Already, your men know not to attempt to pull the wool over her eyes.”

“She needs more time in the saddle,” Hæfern wasn’t ready to heap accolades yet. “However, her sword skills are improving. She left an impressive bruise on my arm last week.”

Elfhelm narrowed his eyes. “Exactly what are you grooming her for?”

Hæfern looked at Gamhelm before winking at the young captain. “Why for her to be your second in command, of course.”

Which left Elfhelm with the strangest vision of his wife in armor.

~~~…~~~

“Sir, can I have a word with you, please?”

Elfhelm looked up from Heaðuwylm’s hoof. The equine had been favoring it during exercises today and if there was a problem, he wanted it fixed now. There was nothing more terrifying than having one’s mount come up lame during patrol. “Penda? What is it?”

The Rider looked sheepish and began to fidget. “It’s about… I hate to ask…”

“Well, do it or don’t.”

He was now scratching behind his ear. “My wife, sir. Aelbfled is past her due date and I’m scheduled to go on patrol tomorrow. I wouldn’t ask, but…” his voice trailed off and his face beet red.

It was their first child and a pregnancy that had been difficult for the young woman. “You’re wanting to rotate out?” Aha. There was the problem! A small pebble had worked its way underneath the shoe. Taking his smallest pick from his belt, Elfhelm began to gently work the pebble forward and out from under the shoe.

“Or swap.”

Finally freeing the small rock, Elfhelm put the hoof down gently. “There, boy. That should feel much better!” He stood up and looked at the young, nervous Rider. Would he be this antsy when Lýðrest finally conceived? “Have you talked to someone yet?”

“Hlothere is still working his injury, as is Oeric. I really don’t know anyone else.”

Elfhelm grimaced. The young Rider was a new transfer, his wife barely making the move in her advanced stage of pregnancy. At least they hadn’t moved far. “Tell you what; I’ll ask around for you. Some of the older Riders will understand. How late is it?”

“Close to dinner, sir. I think you’ll find most at home or at the Three Legged Rider.”

Elfhelm thought for a moment. “Go home to your wife and I don’t want to see you until you have a Horse Lord or a Shield Maiden. I’ll go to the tavern and find someone to relieve you this patrol. If no one is willing, I’ll take your turn.”

The young man’s blush returned. “Thank you, sir.” He dipped his head before running out of the barn.

The Three Legged Rider was not very full, which didn’t surprised Elfhelm as tomorrow was payday and at this moment his wife was more than likely fighting with paperwork to prepare it. Elfhelm decided that when he finished here, he would go to the garrison and help her. Perhaps her woman’s time would be over and they could complete what they started six days before.

~~~…~~~

Truth was, in fact, Lýðrest was fussing with the payroll for Elfhelm’s battalion. She had counted several times and there was not enough – the pay casket was short about fifty silver pieces – several men’s pay. After going through it, the lists, the pay scale, her headache was crawling up her temples. She typically kept a headache during her menstrual cycle, but it had ended that morning and she was looking forward to a bath and some cuddling time with Elfhelm. Maybe more. Those few days off with her husband had truly piqued her curiosity and the time he was gone, along with the fact he came home injured, she was coming to the realization that she cared for him and cared for him more than she wanted to admit she did.

But this task was vexing her and sorely. She could forget about getting home before him, seeing if the snares he set out had caught anything and then taking a bath. At this rate, she might get home after dark! Slamming the book shut, she took the money and put it back in the strong box, locking it with the big lock. Tucking the key into her bodice, she stuck her head out the doorway. Down the hall, were two guards. “Have you seen the Marshal?”

Both shook their heads negatively. “How about his wife?” Again, the two shook their heads. “Ah, you’re as fekking useless as tits on a bull,” she murmured angrily. She turned around, shutting the door and finding the hidden trap door beneath the table and rug, she set the strong box into the hole made for it and closed it up, making sure to cover it securely. She left the room, in search of Elfhelm, Gamhelm or Aelwydd.

~~~…~~~

Finding someone to take Penda’s place was difficult. None of the Riders at the tavern that afternoon had been in his position, so for the most part, they couldn’t commiserate. Elfhelm shook his head in disgust. He hated to order a man to change out. Gamhelm often talked about missing his third child’s birth and barely making it home in time for the fifth! At one point, he thought to ride out himself, despite the fact he still had stitches.

“Elfhelm!”

~~~…~~~

Lýðrest searched the garrison. No Elfhelm. Coming into the courtyard, the bailey, where it was busy, she still could find no Elfhelm, no Gamhelm, and no Aelwydd. Leaving the walled structure, she set out for her home. Maybe he was there. If not, she would head to Gamhelm and Aelwydd’s large home. Surely someone-

“You look lost.” The voice came up from behind her and Lýðrest spun around. Mayda typically avoided Lýðrest and that was fine with Lýðrest. There was no love lost between the two. “Looking for someone?” For some reason, the look and tone was snide.

“Aye. I’m having a problem with the payroll tomorrow. The funds are short and I can’t find my husband,” she stressed the last two words and she knew it would get a rise from the girl and from the sudden sniff and reset shoulders, it got the desired affect, “or your parents.”

“Well,” Mayda smiled insincerely, “I saw Elfhelm leave the barns a short while back and head towards the Three Legged Rider.”

“The Three Legged Rider?” The tavern name was familiar but the best she got from Elfhelm or anyone she asked, was that it was the preferred haunt of the single riders. Married ones went only to find someone or perhaps on rare occasion, play a round of cards. For some reason, Aelwydd and Hereswið wouldn’t tell her much more and considering Gauwyn’s blush when she asked him, she figured other things went on there as well. “Are your parents around?”

Mayda appeared to think; truthfully, Lýðrest didn’t think she had a lot of deep thoughts so it should be fairly easy to stroll through the inventory in her brain. “Nope! Don’t know where they are.” She took Lýðrest’s arm and turned her around. “The Three Legged Rider is on the other side of the garrison, past the barns and the archery field and down the lane. Can’t miss it!” And with that, the girl left her there, standing in the dust, walking with a swagger that made Lýðrest want to just bean her.

“Well, maybe I’ll meet him on his way back.”

~~~…~~~

His brother-in-law Mathye came into the tavern. “I hear you need someone to take Penda’s place on patrol?”

Elfhelm’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Aye, that I do. His wife is overdue with their first child and he’s worried.” Elfhelm’s hands dragged through his rust-colored locks. “None of these brainless prats seem to understand that-”

“I’M NOT BRAINLESS!” a Rider’s voice piped up from the back of somewhere. “I JUST DON’T WANT TO GO ON PATROL AGAIN!”

“Give them a few years, when they are married and have babies coming,” Mathye smiled. “Osðryd is at my sister’s in Aldburg. She’s having her third child, but my mother has been ill. I’m at loose ends. I’ll be more than happy to take his place.”

Elfhelm sagged in relief. “Thank you. I was afraid I would end up going and I just got back!” He leaned over and whispered into Mathye’s ear. “Lýðrest is finally settling in and I don’t want to leave her again until I have to!” He started to step around his brother-in-law. “I’ll just-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Aedilthryd appeared literally in his face. She threw her arms around his neck. “Sweetheart! I’ve not seen you in ages! Why don’t we go upstairs and catch up?”

Elfhelm pulled back. She had been drinking and drinking heavily. While he was interested in fleshly pursuits, he wasn’t interested in hers and even if he had been single, her breath smelled as if she had been gargling in whiskey. He tried to pull her arms from around his neck. “That’s really nice of you, but I think you would be better off with one of the single riders here. I have a wife at home now.”

Aedilthryd slammed her fists to her hips. “Aye, a wife who can’t cook and rumor has it is still a virgin!” The room came to a hush. “If she won’t let you, I will!”

Elfhelm’s eyes narrowed, a rare anger flooding his body. “Who told you that?”

The whore didn’t realize that she was treading on very thin ice, nor did she see the proprietress of the brothel and tavern, making her way from behind the bar. Aedilthryd saucily began to untie her blouse, showing off her wares. “Does it matter? I know you,” she said huskily, “and I’ve missed you in my AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACKKKKK!!!!” The prostitute was suddenly yanked backwards, her hands going to her head, her hair, where Lýðrest had her fist firmly planted in it. She turned her around, slapping her hard.

“CUNT! That’s my husband! Give your fekking, diseased pussy to someone who’s desperate enough to pay for it!”

The other whores in the tavern were backing up, the men circling, sensing a catfight of epic proportions. Elfhelm was immediately behind Lýðrest, putting his arms around her waist. He nodded to Mathye. “Lýðrest, turn her loose. No harm done. I was on my way home.”

“Turn loose of my hair, bicce!” Aedilthryd now had her hands over Lýðrest’s, trying to break free of Lýðrest’s talons.

If anything, Lýðrest began to yank harder. Mathye now had a hold of the whore. “Come on, Lýðrest. Please release her.”

Lýðrest managed to wiggle free of her husband’s grasp. With a mighty swing and still having the whore’s hair in a firm grip, she curled up her fist and punched the woman in the jaw. “You reeky, puny-”

“PUNY? PUNY? Who are you calling puny?” Aedilthryd grabbed Mathye’s forearms, which had her in a tight grip. “Turn me loose! I’ll show you puny!”

“-Harpy!” Lýðrest pulled back to swing again, only to find herself back in her husband’s fierce embrace and being pulled out of the fight. “STRUMPET!” She began to smack and pummel at Elfhelm’s hands and arms. “ TURN ME LOOSE, YOU MOLDWARP!”

“Not hardly,” Elfhelm mumbled, grunting when she kicked him. He started backing up, trying to put distance between his wife and the prostitute.

Aedilthryd managed to escape Mathye’s strong hold and came at both Elfhelm and Lýðrest. With a growl, she doubled up both fists. “You bitch! I’ll teach you-”

Whatever it was she planned on teaching Lýðrest didn’t even reach her lips as Lýðrest reared up and stuck out with her feet, catching the girl in the stomach, causing her to double over and fly back into the floor. As her legs swung back, she kicked her husband in the shins, and with a startled grunt, he dropped her. The moment her feet hit the floor, she tackled the woman. The two began to roll in the floor, slinging, slapping, Lýðrest curses flying.

“…pribbling…spleeny…”

Mathye and Elfhelm were circling around the battling women, uncaring that the Riders behind them were not so quietly taking bets.

“Well, don’t just stand there like an apeling,” Elfhelm roared over the screaming din. “Grab Aedilthryd when they come back around and I’ll grab Lýðrest!”

“You’re a brave man, Captain!” Egbert lifted his mug. “You’ve got a firebrand, alright! A silver piece on the captain’s wife!” His friends joined in the laughter, the two women still battling it out.

Mathye snarled and reaching down, put his arms around the whore, pulling her out from under Lýðrest. At the same time, Elfhelm managed to get Lýðrest under the arms and pulled her back, doing his best to ignore that she was now swinging at him.

“STOP!”

“CUNTWIPE!”

“BITCH!”

“WHORE!”

“STOP!”

“I KNOW! COLD FISH LIKE YOU KEEP ME IN BUSINESS!”

The screaming, name-calling continued, no one heeding the unfamiliar, woman’s voice.

“OFLINNAN! IC SEGEN OFLINNAN ÞYS HANDHWÍL!!!”

The noise, the cat-calling, the yelling and screaming came to a complete halt, all of the combatants looking at the lone, strangely-familiar woman standing in the middle of the tavern. “Never in my life of running this place, have I have heard such name-calling!” Ah, she was furious. “I have never had as much as a fight in my establishment and I’ll not start now! You!” She pointed at Aedilthryd, “Go to your room!”

“But-”

“YOU!” She pointed at Mathye, who still held the woman to his chest. “Take her!”

“Ma’am, I don’t frequent this place, so I don’t know where her room is.” He blushed. “I love my wife.”

“Upstairs, to the right, at the end of the hall, on the left!” She now vented her ire on the girl. “Do not come out until the morning when you’ve sobered up!”

“I’m not a child!”

“But if you want a job come sunrise, you’ll do as I say! Married Riders are off-limits, unless they approach you and you know that! That rule is in place to prevent this!” Lýðrest started to yell again, but the brothel owner yelled over her. “And the captain didn’t approach you and hasn’t since he returned with a wife!” It fell quiet while the Rider rather gently hauled the woman up the stairs. Earcongotæ exhaled, visibly upset at the brawl that had taken place in her establishment. She turned to face Elfhelm and Lýðrest. “Girl, I understand totally why you’re upset-”

“You understand? You understand?” Lýðrest’s voice began to rise and she began to thrash in her husband’s arms. “Mayda tells me my husband is here and I walk in to see some strumpet all over him like mud and you understand?” This started a litany of cursing the likes that even most Riders had never heard. No one paid attention to Gamling in the corner, brow knit in quiet fury at the mention of his sister’s name. Earcongotæ shook her head in disgust and trudged up the stairs.

Once Earcongotæ left, Elfhelm turned the firewarg in his arms loose, setting her on the floor. “Why did you come looking for me?” Lýðrest spun on him, her finger in the air.

“The payroll is short!” she hissed between her teeth, praying no one heard. “I’ve counted it out until I’m cross-eyed and it’s still fifty silver pieces short. I’ve locked it in the casket and put it in the floor stronghold,-”

“Why didn’t you tell Gamhelm or Aelwydd?”

“I COULDN’T FIND THEM!” Her fists were clenched, white-knuckled. “And I come in here to find you ensconced in that-”

“I wasn’t ensconced anywhere!” Elfhelm’s own temper had now been lit. Under normal circumstances, it was typically fast and quickly smothered, but under certain conditions, his rare fury was akin to beserking, an explosive thing and one he fought to keep controlled. “I was heading home-”

A howl of female fury rose and before anyone could stop it, both Elfhelm and Lýðrest were screaming at each other, fingers in the other’s sternum…

The language was singeing ears. Some Riders were now quietly paying their tabs and sneaking out the door, while others simply motioned to have theirs put on the their tab. It was one thing to watch a catfight between two women – that was fun to watch. But an argument between a husband and wife? That could spin out of control and a Rider could lose his commission really fast if he struck his wife or any woman. Soon, all that was left were Elfhelm, Lýðrest, Gamling, and the bartender, who just watched his night’s wages slip out the door.

“I have a right to be furious!”

“I have the right to at least be able to explain before you start howling like a scréawa!”

“Harpy? A Harpy? I think I have the right to be upset!”

“Actually,” Elfhelm’s voice lowered to a dangerous whisper, “no you don’t. I didn’t do anything and come to think of it, you’ve given me no reason to not do anything. And even if I had, you don’t have the right to attack someone who was willing to give me something you hold from me! Go home!” And with that, he stormed from the establishment.

Leaving Lýðrest standing in shock in the middle of the now seemingly empty room. The minute the door slammed, all the fury, the energy, the heat fled from her. Tears welled up, tears she fought to not shed. She was aware of a tall shadow next to her.

“Here.” A mug of ale materialized in front of her. “Drink it. But not too fast.” With shaking hands, Lýðrest took the offering and put it to her lips. One gulp later, the hand snatched the mug away from her mouth. “I said not too fast.” Finally she pulled the mug away and looked up at her benefactor.

“Gamling?”

He rolled his eyes. “Aye.” He nodded at the door. “I know Elfhelm. He’ll calm down in an hour or two and come back and the two of you can make up. Set this behind you.”

“You heard him,” she whispered. “He told me to go home.”

“Aye, home. Your cottage. Not Druncenig Ende.” The man was wearing a faint smile. “He won’t send you back.”

“Gamling,” Earcongotæ had been upstairs, fussing at her employee and reaffirming ground rules of the establishment. She would follow them or she would find work elsewhere. “Why don’t you go to Elfhelm and try to calm him down. I’ll take his wife home. Mathye has gone to get Hereswið.” She smiled at the still shaken woman. “We’ll fix you a bath and see what can be done to heal the damage done by that little witch upstairs.”

Gamling nodded. “I’ll run by my parents. I understand there is a problem with the men’s pay?” Lýðrest nodded her head morosely. “I need to speak with da about that and I’ll send my mother. Then I’ll go to Elfhelm.” Unexpectedly, a huge hand caressed her shoulder. “It will be okay. Honesty, I’ve seen worse. My parents have gotten into a few scream the barn rafter down matches.”

“A few?” Lýðrest choked.

Gamling nodded before continuing. “Aye. A few. They’re disgustingly coo-ey afterwards.” With that, he headed out the door.

The mug Gamling had handed her was now empty and Earcongotæ took it from her, setting it on the nearest table. “Follow me. I know a quiet, back way close to your home and fewer people will see you. We’ll get you some tea and a bath. Come.”

With that, Lýðrest allowed the older woman to lead her into the back kitchen and out the back door.

 

Tbc

OFLINNAN! IC SEGEN OFLINNAN ÞYS HANDHWÍL!Stop! I said stop this instant!

Scréawa – Shrew, a harpy.

happy Guy day!!!

i really wish wordpress would STOP ‘improving; things. i guess no GuyDay for me!!!

My Sweet Thing Chapter 11: 11 – Through the long night

Tags

LOTR, fanfiction, rohirrim

My Sweet Thing

Chapter 11

Through the long night

“Do you have everything you need?” Lýðrest was by Elfhelm’s horse, pretending to hold the bridle while watching him tie his sleeping roll behind his saddle.

The young captain didn’t notice the look of worry on his young wife’s face. “Roll, cloak, a change of clothes, weapons, tack, three water skins. Yes. That’s everything.” He tightened the last cinch, holding everything in place before turning to realize that she looked worried.

Scared to death.

“Is something wrong?”

“Fek no!” She tried to look affronted. “Why should something be wrong?” Quickly, she looked down, studying the dust about her feet. “How long will you be gone? Where are you going?”

Comprehending that she was quite frightened at being left alone, Elfhelm smiled before taking her into his arms. She did not resist. “I’ll be gone fourteen days, give or take. We are heading north on patrol-”

“Where Gauwyn was injured.”

“Aye,” he nodded quietly. “There as well. We’ll be careful. I doubt they’ll try to ambush us again any time soon. And if they try, we’ll be ready for them.” He didn’t tell her of the nasty trap that more than likely killed several of the Dunlendings over a moon past. “I’ll be back, don’t worry.”

“If you die, I don’t want to marry Gamling,” she muttered. Elfhelm laughed out loud at that, grateful he was the only one who heard her. “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” Elfhelm wondered if she were aware her arms were around him, holding him tight.

“Aelwydd says she’s trained you to be my clerk.” Lýðrest nodded. “So you will keep up with my paperwork, the payroll and such. You know how that works.”

“Aye. They have to have their marks and the engraving on the back tells how much they get. If they try to chew me up for more or don’t have their mark, I’m to get Aelwydd or Gamhelm.”

“Very good. I have rotations already scheduled, so you simply have to post them. If I’m not back in time, simply repeat them. Make sure the barracks has food and there is plenty of feed for the horses for those under my command.”

“Just like the tavern.”

“Just like the tavern,” he agreed. Aelwydd said she had a quick eye and mind. “Ask Aelwydd or Gamhelm if you have any questions. Gauwyn is starting to work his sword arm and ride again. You are to work with him. That includes riding.” She snarled at that. Elfhelm tucked his finger under her chin and lifted it. “Do it. Don’t make me spank you when I get home. In the evening, you’re to go to the tavern my mother runs and help her. The work should be familiar to you and she could use the help, I’m sure. It will keep you busy and I’ll be home before you know it.” He stared at her for what seemed forever, watching her eyes mist up. After a moment, he leaned down, kissing her deeply, his tongue delving into her mouth and his hand holding the back of her head. She allowed him to plunder her, before pulling back when the company began to wolf whistle and demand they just get a room. He broke off the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers. “Miss me?”

“Like a bleeding flea – infested quilt,” she muttered. “At least I’ll get some sleep without you snoring like a damned thunderstorm in my ear.”

“Hæfern should be back from Aldburg next week. The two of you can sit around and swear to your heart’s content. If I see your da, I’ll tell him you’re well.” She nodded morosely. He kissed her again.

“Come on, can we just leave?” Cælin was up in years, working on his third wife and romance was totally lost on the man. Elfhelm openly wondered why he didn’t retire. “Because I love to bed my wife. I don’t love her cooking,” was the oft-repeated excuse. He said that about all three of his wives.

Reluctantly, Elfhelm turned her loose and mounted up. He looked back as the company turned the corner, pleased she still stood where he left her, watching. Maybe this separation would do the trick and he would get lucky before the second moon was up.

Neither one of them were aware of the jealous, angry eyes that watched the tender exchange or the departure.

~~~…~~~

True to Elfhelm’s promise, Aelwydd and Hereswið kept Lýðrest extremely busy. She rose early and fell into bed every night, exhausted, her arms wrapped around Elfhelm’s pillow. The payroll came in and dividing and distributing it was a taxing, headache-inducing process. Several of the younger Riders did attempt to garner extra coppers from the young woman, but soon learned that she was smarter than they were. Not only that, she was evidently allowed and capable of setting their garrison responsibilities during her husband’s absence and the attempt to collect additional pay only acquired them unsavory chores, such as cleaning the stalls like stable boys. One particularly obstinate fellow found himself cleaning the Marshal’s pigpen, much to the amusement of his fellow Riders.

Most afternoons found her in the yards with the young women, practicing, training their own sword skills. She openly disliked the training and was rather vocal to Gauwyn when the two of them went riding afterwards.

“I don’t understand,” she griped the afternoon after Elfhelm left for patrol. “I don’t see any reason why I need to learn to fekking fight with a sword, a knife, or a big stick!”

Gauwyn smiled. He ignored her earthy language, something his mother despaired of as her daughters were enamored of Lýðrest’s command of such filth. “Imagine you could have run Hucohun through.”

“That would work.”

“Aye.” He stretched, painfully, his side giving him fits.

They tended to stay close to the garrison; Gauwyn working newly knitted muscle. It was whispered he would limp for the rest of his life. Lýðrest felt badly about that, but she had done the best she could. He didn’t seem to hold it against her.

When Hæfern returned, he took over Lýðrest’s sword training, taking it very serious indeed.

“Don’t know why I didn’t teach you this, myself,” he muttered thickly, backing her into a corner. When she reached it, she lashed out, backing him back into the middle of the yard. Every other thrust was punctuated with a curse that made most of the yard’s occupants’ hair stand up on the back of their necks. One particular whack would definitely leave a bruise on the older Rider’s arm for sure.

“Aye,” she responded, concentrating on his sword arm. “I could have killed Hucohun and not been put in this stupid arrangement!”

Hæfern dropped to his knee, point of the practice sword to the ground and effectively pausing the fight. “Do you really think that?” his head cocked to the side.

“Of course, I do!”

“Think, girl. You know better.”

Truthfully, she did. Even had she been able to defend herself, that night was three against one, wretched odds.

“Do you like Elfhelm so little? Way I hear it, the two of you are rather sweet on each other. The garrison is still twittering like teenaged girls over your goodbye kiss.”

Lýðrest colored at that. She threw her own practice sword down on the ground and stormed away. It was not lost on her that she did care deeply for the man she was married to, enjoyed him, his company and she was missing him horribly. She missed his morning and evening kisses, his warmth in the bed and yes, even his snoring.

She went home, washing up and changing clothes and threw herself into her work at the tavern that night. She worried her mother-in-law, her new family, but mostly Aelwydd, who knew deep inside what was bothering the young woman. But she also understood the stubborn set of her shoulders and backbone.

Time would tell. Hopefully, she would miss him enough to end this foolish prick-teasing game the two of them were playing.

Elfhelm and his company returned on time, fourteen days later. Lýðrest was in his clerk’s office, preparing to repeat the rotation, so deep into the fortress, she didn’t hear their return. She was interrupted by a sharp rap on the doorframe.

Elfhelm stood against the door, looking tired worn. He was filthy. “Could you lay that aside?” His voice was exhausted, thick, certainly not the robust, vibrancy she was used to.

“Elfhelm?”

“I need your help. It’s not bad, but…” His mouth went white. “I don’t want my mother or my sisters fussing over me, do you understand?”

“Sure.” She got up slowly and took him by the arm. Together, the two sauntered, Lýðrest chattering unusually so about her ‘adventures’ while he was gone. The captain managed to smile, look as if he were hanging on her every word. No sooner than they got into their cottage, he sank down on the nearest bench by the fireplace. Lýðrest shut the door, grabbed her healer’s kit and sank down in front of him. She began to unbuckle and pull his leather armor from him, slinging it out of the way to the floor. “Where?”

“Arm. Hip. It’s not bad, not really…just hurts like…” Lýðrest was now pulling his chain maille over his head.

“A fekking warg’s arse.”

“I knew,” he whispered, “you’d have something appropriate to say.” His smile, while thin, was genuine. “I’m just tired and need to sleep.”

As his clothing came off, Lýðrest hissed. “Not bad, my arse. Had you cleaned them, it wouldn’t be bad!” Before long, he was sitting in his small clothes and she was stoking the fire, every large kettle that would hang on a hook, filled with water and over the fire, waiting to boil.

“Béma! Must it be so hot in here?”

Lýðrest was busy nosing over healing salves and a pain-reliever tea. “You can sweat this out while I fix your bath.” She handed him a mug of willowbark-laced tea. “When did this happen?”

He took a deep draw of the hot brew. “Bleh!” he grimaced. “Can’t you put this stuff in caffe?”

Lýðrest was putting another bucket of hot water into the tub. “I make shitty caffe, just so you know. When did it happen? How long have you been riding all over the fekking Riddermark like this?”

Elfhelm shrugged. “Five… six days.” He buried his nose in the mug to hide his smile as his wife swore the dirt from the floor. Home. This was home.

It was quiet for some time as the water level rose in the tub and Lýðrest fussed and worried over each cut and laceration. There was a particularly deep cut on his shoulder that needed several stitches. Elfhelm sat very still while she sewed him up, taking care to make sure the sutures were tight and even. ‘Funny’, she thought to herself, ‘I can sew flesh evenly, but give me a needle and thread and a quilting hoop, and I’m a lopsided loony!’ Finally, she poured the last pot of boiling water in the tub and nodded for him to get in. She did not turn away as he stepped out of his last bits of clothing and climbed into the tub. He hissed at the heat but sank gratefully into the water nonetheless. Lýðrest kicked his clothing into the corner and pulled the little bench he was sitting on behind him and began to bathe the parts of him she could see.

In the past weeks, since they arrived in Cantwaraburg, Lýðrest had become more and more interested in her husband’s body. Unbeknownst to her, he was aware of her quiet, under the covers scrutiny and he reveled in showing off in typical male fashion. Like most Rohirrim, he was tall, but rather than have a lean physique, he was thick, muscular. Broad across the shoulder with a powerful chest that, as much as Lýðrest hated to admit, she was learning to love as it held her safe, snug, and secure at night. Everything about him was thick, hinted at power.

Including… that.

As she remembered, even limp, his was not the shriveled up, dangling thing most injured men had between their legs. His looked… heavy and Cynni and Belle told her it would grow hard and larger than when it was in its resting state. To think of his… larger? Bigger? Standing like a staff…

“What are you pondering on that has you so quiet?” Elfhelm turned around, leaning on the back of the tub. He immediately saw his wife redden furiously and realizing she was having earthy thoughts, smiled smugly. “Do not lie or make up something outrageous.”

“What makes you think I’d lie?”

The back of a damp finger reached out and caressed her jawline. “You’re blushing.”

It crossed her mind to lie anyway, but truth was she was curious and if she couldn’t ask her own husband, who could she ask? Certainly not her mother-in-law… maybe Aelwydd… but…

“I can’t figure out how you’re going to fit!” she blurted. “Belle said a man gets… bigger and you’re bigger already and I just don’t know how you’re going to … how we’re going to…” She realized her husband was grinning about as hard as she had ever seen the man smile. Damn, if he wasn’t chuckling. She ducked her head, petulantly. “You maggot-pie. You’re laughing at me.”

Now he was laughing. “No, I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing with you.” His hand continued to caress her face. “How much did Belle tell you?”

Stammering, Lýðrest told him all four sentences of information she received. “That it will fit, I’ll like it, eventually, and the longer you go without, you’ll get… blue balls and it will hurt you.”

Elfhelm’s smile fell just a bit. “That’s all?” Lýðrest nodded. “Do you want me to have my mother or Aelwydd talk to you?”

“NO!” she snapped. “It’s damned embarrassing for me to be this old and ignorant-”

“Actually,” he interrupted, “I prefer you ignorant. Not that that’s a bad thing, simply I’ll get to teach you everything.” He turned back around, presenting her with his back. “If you’ll finish my back and help me wash my hair, you won’t have to look at me when I embarrass you, because I probably will.” Elfhelm heard the bench scrape across the floor as Lýðrest pulled closer. Her fists went to his back, a bar of soap in her hands. The scent of sandalwood filled the air. “It will get bigger, but it will fit fine.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ll get wet.” Her hands stopped. “A woman’s body is made to react to a man’s to help things along. I will teach you to touch me in ways that will make me rather large and yes, very hard. You have parts of your body that will make you very wet, which will make it easier.”

Suddenly, Lýðrest grabbed his chin, turning his face none to gently, so he was looking straight at her. “And what if I don’t get wet enough?”

Elfhelm’s face split into a slow-growing grin. He kissed her, much like he had when he left two weeks before. His look was rather rakish. “Then I will crawl between your legs and lick every nook and cranny and your sweet clit until you are gushing and make a wet spot in the bed. And just when you cannot take anymore, I will spread you wide and I will fit.” His forehead was pressed against hers. “And you will love it.”

Lýðrest pulled back, eyes wide, full of fear, but also full of need. Elfhelm ducked his head beneath the cooling water and held out his hand for the soap. Quickly he washed that mass, before motioning for the bucket to rinse. When he finished, he stood up, water dripping from everywhere on his body. As she was still sitting, Lýðrest looked up taking all of him in, every bit, every inch.

“Tell me, léoflic,” Elfhelm’s voice was a husky whisper. “Will you allow me to gaze at your naked beauty so thoroughly?” He smiled ruefully when she blushed and looked away. Snorting gently, he held his hand out. “Take my hand and stand up.” When she acquiesced, he pulled her up and still clasping it, laid her hand on his uninjured shoulder. With his other hand, he pulled her close, that possessive hand on the curve of her hip, until she was tucked into his body, the damp that adhered to his skin, now clinging to her dress. “You realize,” he whispered in her ear, “the first full moon passed while I was gone?” He now laid her hand flat on his shoulder, shuddering as she began to stroke, caress the muscled skin, mindlessly mimicking his own touch along her jaw line. He felt her nod. “Why do you wait?” His murmur was a low rumble in her ear. “Surely you know I would be gentle. I want to pleasure you.”

“I’m scared.” It was a lamb’s bleat, an endearing softness he did not expect from her.

“Well, we should address that fear, but not this evening.” He kissed her when she looked up. “I’m in no shape to woo such a reluctant, beautiful woman. And I’m hungry too and as much as I have missed you in my arms, your cooking,” he finished ruefully, “has much to be desired.” This caused Lýðrest to break out in a rather joyous laugh, something not seen or heard often. “But,” Elfhelm lifted a single finger and tapped her on the nose, “I will have the next few days off, meaning you do as well. I would like to show you some of the surrounding countryside, show you where the good fishing spots are, as well as a field that is normally abundant with rabbit and squirrel.”

“But I can’t cook it, remember?” She was still smiling.

“Well, I guess,” he lectured to the rafters while he pulled her in close, “I’ll have to teach you to do that as well. Why,” he chided humorously, “did I marry you again? OH!” He continued, lest she interrupt him, “That’s right! Your father’s vast holdings and your jewels!” He spun her around, making her squeal. “And your sweet singing voice!” They were both laughing. Finally, he kissed her, a lingering kiss that promised much. “Help me get dressed and we’ll go to the tavern for whatever has been cooked up. But be prepared to spend the next few days with me where hopefully, we’ll lay some of your fears to rest and maybe, I can teach you to fry up a trout!”

Fifteen minutes later, the two sat in a dark, back corner of Elfhelm’s mother’s tavern, sharing a tankard of mead and looking forward to a shared dinner of pork and honeyed vegetables. No one noticed or mentioned, save Lýðrest, the obvious slow movements of the captain, or the grim, white line his mouth made when he moved the wrong way.

They were unaware, as they left the tavern in the early evening, as they slowly strolled hand in hand down the path back to their little cottage, of a pair of angry, jealous eyes that followed them.

tbc

amazing grace

so much death as of late. this came across my playlist. thought i’d share…

missing my son…

rip theodan king

bernard hill

https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/bernard-hill-titanic-lord-rings-135738475.html

sleep well Servetus

thank you for your wisdom.

My Sweet Thing 10. And so it goes

Tags

LOTR, fanfiction, rohirrim

My Sweet Thing

Chapter 10

And so it goes

Lýðrest woke up with a groan and then a smart smack on her arse.

“What in fekkin-” She sat up, fists at the ready, before realizing her back and thighs were still stiff. “Ow!” She glared at the cause of her stinging bum. “Why’d you do that?”

Elfhelm was up, dressed, and smiling. He was holding two mugs, one of which he handed her. “Caffe. I just brewed it. Here. It will wake you up!”

With a scowl, Lýðrest took the steaming mug and drank the bitter brew. She looked at him with a frown. “You brew a good cup,” she admitted grudgingly. “Why’d you hit me?”

“I didn’t hit you.” He actually sounded appalled, hurt that she would make such a claim. “I smacked your arse. Time to get up.”

She started to lie back down, but she had a semi-full mug of hot caffe in her hands. “I’m hurting.”

Elfhelm’s features softened somewhat. “I know you are. That’s why you need to get up and move. It will help.” She finished the cup and with great stiffness, swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Seeing the empty tub against the wall, It dawned on her she remembered very little of anything after she ate the night before.

“Elfhelm?” He looked at her expectantly. “I don’t remember going to bed.”

For a moment he stared, knowing the unasked question, before deciding to answer. “You were more asleep than awake when I arrived. I braided your hair, got you out of the tub, dressed you, and put you to bed.” He threw a finger up, cutting off her retort. “Aye, I gave you two moons to get used to the idea of our marriage and us consummating the marriage. I said nothing about treating you like a sister.” He turned his back and put his empty mug on the sideboard. “It’s not like I’m not going to see you. Wouldn’t matter anyway. You were hurting and stiff and needed a helping hand last night. Seducing you was out of the question.”

Lýðrest’s feet hit the floor and suddenly, she had needs that had to be taken care of. “Uhm… Elfhelm?” She glanced at the chamber pot.

Elfhelm knew immediately she wanted privacy. “I’m late, so I’ll be quick. You need to get dressed. The Marshal’s wife and my mother will be here shortly. They said you are in need of clothes and we are in need of some homey touches to this place, including I’ll bet a privacy screen and a tub. After that, Aelwydd is going to teach you to run a garrison and a larger household. For some reason, they think I’m going to be something and I’ll need your help.” He shrugged good-naturedly. “In the afternoons, my mother said you can help her in the tavern.” He ducked his head. “You’ll be comfortable. Also, when I’m out on campaign, you won’t be alone, twiddling your thumbs, if you’re there.” He took a step towards the door, before turning back, with a grin. “Oh. Forgot.” He bounced across the room and cupping her face in his hands, kissed her sweetly on the mouth, his teeth nibbling on her bottom lip, making her gasp. He pulled back, as if to inspect her. “Get used to that every morning and every night. See you at dinner time.” And with that, he tossed up the drop bar and dashed from the little house, leaving Lýðrest stunned and fingering her tingling lip.

She almost wet herself, trying to get the door shut and the bar dropped before getting back to the chamber pot.

~~~…~~~

Aelwydd and Hereswið kept her as busy, if not more so than she had ever been back at Druncenig Ende. It was decided (without Lýðrest’s input) that the most important thing she needed was clothing and things for her home. Aelwydd’s eldest daughter, Beornia, had just had a growth spurt and normally her outgrown clothes would go to the next sister – Mayda – but Mayda had had one as well and now stood taller than her elder sister. The younger ones – Orva and Sulis – were much too small for the clothing, so they came to Lýðrest. Overnight, Lýðrest discovered she had a new wardrobe and one nicer than anything she had ever owned, even if it was second-hand. She was lost behind the quilt-rack, a spinning wheel, taught arts she never knew existed.

“What’s wrong with her?” Æðelhild, Elfhelm’s youngest sister was nine summers and a busier know-it-all, Lýðrest had never met! “Elfhelm had to teach her to ride! Everyone knows how to ride! Everyone has a hope chest! I have a hope chest! And she can’t sew! vWas she dropped on her head?”

“Shhhh!” Elfhelm’s mother tried to shush the child, but she wasn’t about to be hushed.

Tact was not in the child’s vocabulary. She marched over to Lýðrest. “Why can’t you sew? Didn’t your mama teach you how?”

Hereswið was trying to get out from under the huge rack she was sitting behind, working on a large section of quilt. “Æðelhild-”

“My mother fek-” Lýðrest stopped herself in her tracks. One of the first things Aelwydd and Hereswið attempted to convince Lýðrest of was that ladies did not swear or talk like the men in… well… whatever tavern her father ran. They were expected to comport themselves like… well… ladies. She inhaled, attempting to find calm where she felt none. “My mother is dead,” she stated matter-of-factly. “She died before I was three summers. I barely remember her.” The child drew up in shock. Before she could open her mouth again, Lýðrest continued. “My father ran a tavern and I helped him run it. I know nothing about sewing or hope chests or girly things, but I know how much food needs to be prepared a slow night or a busy one, I know how to sew up a man if he’s been injured and I know how many caskets of ale or oak whiskey is needed for a celebration. I know,” and with this she looked up to her mother-in-law, “where the best place in a cellar is to store mead, store ale, store beer and store wine. What temperature is best. I also know how to dodge grasping hands and how to lay out a man who refused to keep his hands to himself and tries to take liberties.” She then turned back to the little girl, who stood before her, mouth agape. “I didn’t know how to ride because I didn’t need to ride. I can lay a man out with my frying pan. I’ve been much too busy working to keep a roof over mine and my da’s head and food in our belly to worry about a hope chest, waiting for man to marry that honestly I never thought would come.”

Before she could continue, the child’s mother took her gently by the arm. “I think you are needed in the garden.” The little girl began to protest. “It’s not been weeded in a week. If the soil is dry, get a bucket and go to the river.”

“Sulis?” Aelwydd addressed her youngest, who was of the same age. “Go with her.”

With much groaning and bemoaning and grousing, the two young girls took off. Hereswið shook her head before returning to her seat. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what gets into her.”

“Nosy. Wants to know it all.” Lýðrest’s head was down, anger barely hidden.

“We’re simply curious,” Mayda, one of Gamhelm and Aelwydd’s daughters spoke up, barely civil. For some reason, she was borderline rude from the moment she met Lýðrest and Lýðrest decided she returned the dislike. “We’d like to know what it is Elfhelm sees in you. Don’t get your knickers in a wad.”

“Mayda?” Aelwydd never looked up from her hoop. “Go help your sister in the garden.” The girl snarled before tossing her hoop on the bench and stalking away.

Lýðrest watched her stomp off angrily, before returning to her own hoop. “Béma, whatever it is I’m making, it’s damned ugly!”

One of the younger of Elfhelm’s sisters – Edyð – was sitting next to her. She was of an age with Lýðrest and decided she was going to like her new sister-in-law, regardless. It was not lost on Lýðrest the girl thought her brother hung the moon. “Doesn’t matter. It’s just a practice scrap to keep you busy and to teach you.” She shrugged with a good-natured grin. “You’re not supposed to make your wedding quilt, anyway. Your sisters and your friends are.”

“I have no sisters or friends. The only friends I had are back in Druncenig Ende.”

It was quiet for a moment. “Well, I’m your sister,” Edyð spoke softly. “You’ve married my brother, so that makes you my sister.”

For the first time since arriving, Lýðrest smiled. “I guess it does then.”

“Tell you what!” Edyð motioned to Beornia to pass her her quilting hoop. “I’ll teach you to sew if you teach me to swear!”

“Edyð!”

“Me too!” Beornia chimed in. “I want to learn too!” She saw her mother raise her finger. “The garden is full of little girls. I am NOT going there!” She turned her attention back to Lýðrest before her mother could admonish her. “Do you know why Mayda is so nasty? She thinks she’s in love with Elfhelm.” She handed Edyð’s quilt portion to her.

“He never paid her any mind or attention,” Edyð cut in. “Treated her like a little sister and nothing more.”

“An annoying little sister.”

“Aye.”

“So!” Edyð seemed all excited about getting to know her new sister. “We’ve heard all sorts of whispers and silliness about how you and Elfhelm met and married! Tell us what really happened!” She leaned over and looked up at Lýðrest, batting her eyes. “Was he romantic?”

“Did he sing to you?” Beornia snickered.

“Was it love at first sight?”

“Did he sweep you off your feet?”

Lýðrest was staring daggers at Aelwydd, who seemed completely nonplussed and totally oblivious of the fact her daughter and friend were waxing insipid and dreamy twaddle. She looked at Edyð. “No.” Over to Beornia. “No.” Back to Edyð. “No.” Back to Beornia. “No.”

Both girls were in shock. “So what we heard…”

Lýðrest was focusing on the mess she was making worse in her own hoop. “If you were told that I was hiding from goatish scut who planned to gang rape me and Elfhelm hid me in his room so it wouldn’t happen,” she stabbed the material viciously, “then you heard correctly. I was under the quilt in my clothes and shoes and he was on top in his cloak and we… spooned up together as the bed was small.” She jabbed the cloth again, pricking her finger. “OW!” She stuck the digit in her mouth. “Ewfhewm weft tha dor umbawbed an’ ma da cauh uf.” She pulled her finger from her mouth and inspected it as if it were an evil orc. “My da couldn’t wait to announce it to everyone. We didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. By the time the Marshal and my uncle got there, it was too late. Apparently, setting me aside will damage his career or some shite, so we’re stuck with each other.”

“Why would your da force a marriage on you, especially to a man you didn’t know?”

“Because,” Lýðrest returned to attacking the quilt square, “he wanted me out of Druncenig Ende bad enough and Elfhelm is a damn sight better than any man I’d find there!”

“Oh.” Edyð’s response was very subdued. This was so unlike what she hoped for her beloved brother. “Well, surely you’ll fall in love with him, if you haven’t yet.”

“I just don’t understand how anyone could accidentally get caught in someone’s cloak!” She stopped momentarily and glanced up at Aelwydd. “Lady Aelwydd-”

“Just Aelwydd.”

“You mentioned last night that you had been accidentally caught.”

“Aye.” She smiled. “It was the best thing that ever happened to me. You’ve heard this before,” she nodded to her daughter.

“I love hearing it.”

“When I was seventeen summers, my da allowed me to go with him to a horse fair. The men go to trade horses, race and such. Show off mostly. The women go to priss and preen and maybe catch the eye of someone not on their farmstead.”

“So, you went to priss and preen.”

“Oh no.” Aelwydd had now laid down her sewing. “I had a dapple mare that was faster than the wind. Got her from a barely civilized horselord in the Wold. What was his name…” she wiggled her fingers in thought, before snapping them. “Finan! Finan of the Wold. In fact, Gamling’s first gelding was from their herd. Amazing horseman.”

“Anyway, I wanted to race. I knew I could win every prize being offered, but my da refused. Said no man would be willing to court me if I beat his arse racing. Ticked me off, it did.” She nodded hard, Elfhelm’s mother now grinning like child with too much sweet cake. “We argued for some hours over it and rather loudly, I must admit. Eventually, I took off, just to prove I could raise up dust. I rode for a lot longer than I planned and realized I was out in the middle nowhere without my sword. I only had a paltry knife to eat with.”

Aelwydd was now smiling in fond memory. “I started back, but my mare came up lame. She had a loose shoe. The sun was going down, I could hear wolves, other things…” her voice drifted off for a moment, “I was so scared… then out of nowhere, this red-headed Rider who had been staring at me from the moment we arrived, barrels out of nowhere on the biggest, meanest stallion I’ve ever seen. He jumped from his horse, checks my Lady’s hoof, tells me we’re not making it back to the gathering tonight, proceeds to make a big fire, pulls out tack… dried beef jerky and hands me a strip for dinner and then offers me a place in his bedroll!”

Hereswið clucked, never looking up. Obviously, she had heard this story before. “Awful.”

Aelwydd was just getting warmed up and she thrust an accusatory finger at Lýðrest. “It was! It was awful! How dare he offer to keep me warm and protected in the dark of the night! I refused!”

“Good girl,” Hereswið mumbled, concentrating very hard on her square. “Stupid move.”

“I sat, in the dark, on a rock that hurt my butt, freezing. After I suppose about an hour, he got up, said my teeth were chattering so, I would attract every warg in the vicinity. Next thing I knew, I was wrapped up tight and warm… and that man was a heating bag the likes I’ve never seen.” She nodded hard. “Still is.”

Beornia leaned into Lýðrest and whispered. “This is my favorite part!”

“Next thing I know, it’s morning, I’m still wrapped up tight in his cloak and he’s wrapped around me and my da and brothers are standing over us yelling they’ve caught me wrapped in that man’s cloak! Before I know it, my mother is planning a ceremony and that man is teaching me how to take better care of my horse. He gave me two moons.”

“That sounds familiar,” Lýðrest muttered.

“It should! No doubt that man of yours talked to mine. Weirdest courtship I’ve ever encountered or heard of.”

Lýðrest snorted. “Elfhelm taught me to ride and is teaching me to fight. Give me a frying pan any day.”

“Seeing how stiff you were, you still aren’t riding,” Aelwydd had returned her attention back to her sewing. “It took time, respect, and a few arguments, but I fell in love with that man. Best mistake I ever made, getting caught ‘accidentally’ in his cloak.” She dropped her sewing in her lap and tilted her head in thought. “I don’t think he’s ever realized that I know he loosened my mare’s shoe on purpose.” She made a moue with her mouth and shook her head. “No. I don’t think he knows.” The women started laughing.

Somewhere, in the midst of all it all, Lýðrest began to ponder what Elfhelm had told her about the difficulty in protecting her as long as their marriage wasn’t consummated. None of the women in the circle acted as if it was a chore. Maybe, she was being childish. Maybe, she was just being obstinate. Elfhelm hadn’t treated her unfairly or horribly. He dressed her the night before, braided her hair, put her to bed. He made her feel safe….

Why was she waiting?

~~~…~~~

As Elfhelm feared, his savings took a huge dent when his wife went shopping with his mother and the Marshal’s wife for necessities for their home. Living near a garrison and large settlement meant they didn’t have to wait for caravans or tinkers to come through town. Luckily, her wardrobe didn’t take a huge bite of his silver as he expected, but she did purchase leggings and tunics, as well as a sturdy pair of boots. It was the household goods that were staggering. Pots, pans, eating utensils. A privacy screen, a tub, a wardrobe. Linen to make… linens. He came home one evening to find people carrying things in. Just how big did she think their home was? By the time Aelwydd and Hereswið finished, the place was neat as a pin, set up like a dollhouse, a beautiful new quilt on the bed, which had been restuffed and now boasted fluffy goose-down pillows. Elfhelm wondered aloud what had happened to his nice bachelor pad.

“You have a wife now, Elfhelm,” his mother jibbed him. “If you could ever get down to the business of seducing her, you’ll have children and then we’ll either have to find a bigger place or add a loft to this one!”

Their lives settled into a nice, comfortable routine for a few weeks. Lýðrest spent days following Aelwydd, dogging her footsteps in the garrison. Her mind was sharp when it came to money; able to add and subtract in her head at an amazing speed. Once, one of the young riders, not realizing she was married to a captain, made a lewd advance, only to find himself backed into a wall and rapidly cursed at by a tongue so raspy vile, it sounded like arrows being shot at a stone wall. Her finger was poking him in his sternum and by the time Gamhelm pulled him away from her and sent him to the stables to clean stalls, he swore never to make a pass at any strange woman again, save the whores at the Three Legged Rider.

The bruise caused by her finger lasted a week!

Two afternoons after their arrival, Elfhelm made her saddle her mare and they went riding. She still was sore and stiff and she cursed him for every jarring bounce and trot.

He called her a whiney baby while rubbing a smelly oil on her legs and upper thighs.

He kissed her every morning before he left for the day…

And rolled her in his arms and kissed her thoroughly, every night, causing her toes to curl and her nether regions to feel… tingly.

Three weeks after their arrival, he was sent out on patrol for two weeks.

It was the longest two weeks of Lýðrest’s life.

Tbc

My Sweet Thing 9 – Everybody Loves You Now

Tags

fanfictioin, LOTR, rohirrim

My Sweet Thing

Chapter 09

Everybody loves you now

~~~…~~~

Elfhelm was grateful everything hadn’t fallen down around his ears while he was gone. Although he was the lowest captain in the garrison, he was still captain and there were duties he had to perform; scheduling rotations and making sure payroll had been dealt with. Thankfully, Gamhelm’s wife, Aelwydd, had stepped in, taking over as only she could and quietly made the arrangements and distributed the salaries of the soldiers. Sure, they would understand he wasn’t there to oversee it, but men needed to be paid. They had families, responsibilities.

So after going through the paperwork and thanking Béma for intelligent women, he decided a quick ale at the Three-Legged Rider was in order. He’d received word from his mother that she intended to feed them this night and he figured his little home was crawling with women. If he was lucky, he’d arrive back home about the time the dust settled down and the extra females were gone.

The bar was full, full of Riders and single men. The Three-Legged Rider was not the family tavern his mother ran. His mother was interested in feeding a man’s stomach. His aunt, Earcongotæ, on the other hand, was more interested in feeding a man’s libido. He no sooner sat down, before he had company.

The buxom blonde plopped herself in his lap, her laces loose and her breasts easily accessible. She handed him a tankard. “I hope and pray to Béma the rumors aren’t true.”

Elfhelm took the mug and drank gratefully from the froth. Paperwork was nasty work that left one with a dry mouth. “Ah, that’s cold and I thank you! What rumor would you be talking about, Aedilthryd?”

She sidled in closer, more intimately, her blouse now completely open and her pert nipples openly displayed to him. “Why, that you got married.”

“Really? Who told you that?” He reached across and pulled her blouse closed. A man could take just so much temptation.

“Oh, the garrison is just talking about it!” She put both arms around his neck and began to play with his ears. “And they say you married some nasty wench with a trash mouth from Druncenig Ende, of all places.”

Elfhelm winced and Aedilthryd caught it. “I did not marry some nasty wench. I married Hæfern’s niece, who also just happened to be the tavern owner’s daughter.” The girl’s mouth dropped, flapping in shock. “And before you ask, yes, I do like her a lot.” He set the empty stein down on the side table and stood up, with the girl still in his arms. “Gamling! Here! Take this!”

Gamling had just entered the tavern, looking for nourishment not found in a kitchen. “What?”

“Take her.” He plopped the girl in the tall redhead’s arms. “She needs an itch scratched and I’m in no mood or condition to do it.”

Aedilthryd was giggling now and kissed the young man on the mouth. “I’ve missed you, too! Think you can handle me?”

Gamling’s face lit up in a playful grin. “What? You think I won’t be enough?”

“Oh,” she dragged her finger around the neckline of his tunic. “Normally, yes you could, but you’ve been in the saddle and Elfhelm has been gone and doesn’t want to play and I’ve been sooooo lonely. I’m liable to be just insatiable.”

Gamling spun around, the whore still in his arms, searching the men at the bar. “Háma !”

Háma looked up from his cards. “Not now. I’m in the middle of a good hand.”

The door was opening, several more Riders coming into the tavern. Gamling’s smile now split into a huge, almost evil grin. “Théodred! Ho!”

“No, I’m not!” the king’s son laughed. “You’re holding the ho!”

Aedilthryd was giggling. “I am not a whore! I’m an honest working girl!” She found herself thrown in the air and as she landed, repositioned over Gamling’s very wide shoulder, his hand possessively on her rear.

“Well, I plan to work you all night! Théodred! Come give me a hand!” He turned so the girl’s backside was high in the air. “Look at this! You know you want some!”

Théodred was grinning. “Oh yeah.” He smacked the wench on the rump, making her yelp. “I’ll aid a fellow Rider in wearing this one out! Let me grab a pitcher and up we’ll go.” The pitcher was already pulled and on the bar as the two men and woman thundered up the stairwell and down the hall, Aedilthryd squealing the whole way. The noise tamped down when her door shut.

“So, it’s true?” A new, more mature voice was sitting next to the young captain. A refilled tankard replaced the empty one. Elfhelm picked it up and took a drink.

“Aye, Aunt Earcongotæ. It’s true.” Finally, he turned to look at the middle-aged woman who owned and operated the bar. “I’ve married Hæfern’s niece, Lýðrest. Her father owns the tavern in Druncenig Ende.

“Mighty fast work, boy. How did this happen?”

Elfhelm made much of taking a long draw from the deep goblet. “She was in a bad, bad spot and I helped her out. Thing is, it was misconstrued and now I have a wife that I need to convince to be a wife.”

Elfhelm stared long and hard into the cold fireplace across from him, knowing the woman next to him was scrutinizing his every movement and facial expression. “Sounds like Gamhelm and Aelwydd.” Elfhelm nodded, never truly acknowledging his aunt. “Have you asked their advice?”

“Talked to Gamhelm.”

There was a loud thump above them. Earcongotæ looked upwards at the ceiling. “That room will be bouncing all night. I’ll have to see if that girl has tomorrow off. She might be worthless if that keeps up. If you talked to Gamhelm, you got good advice.”

“I did. Gave her two moons to get used to the idea. Plan a ceremony. I even agreed to wear the flowers.” He shuddered at that.

His aunt smacked him on the arm. “The flowers is the easy part, Elfhelm.”

Elfhelm smiled. “So I’ve heard.”

“In the meantime,” the woman gestured to her bartender, who brought her a cold mug as well, “where are you sleeping? Please tell me you’re not sleeping with your horse!”

Elfhelm raised the mug again, realizing he had reached the bottom of this one as well. “Oh no,” he whispered with a satiric grin. “We’re sleeping in the same bed.”

“Ah!” His aunt smiled. “So there isn’t much for her to get used to.”

Elfhelm rose and set the mug on the table. “We’re not doing anything. Just sharing the bed. She was clothed and in her shoes under the quilt and I was on top in my cloak. We spooned up in sleep. That’s all that happened when we got caught.”

The brothel owner’s tankard stopped midway up. “And you’re still wanting to make a go of it? No way to set her aside quietly?”

“No choice. Gamhelm said so. We were caught by her father and two serving girls.” Earcongotæ nodded in understanding. “Earcongotæ?” She lifted her eyes in response. “Have you ever wondered what would have happened if Eni hadn’t died and left you with three children? Why didn’t you remarry?”

His mother’s sister thought hard for a moment. “No man has ever made me feel like Eni did. And if he had lived,” Eni had been a promising young captain, cut down in his prime in an orc attack on the Eastenmet, “I wouldn’t be doing this. I would be in charge of a garrison. It’s the same thing, really, you know. Not much difference between a garrison and a brothel. Just different…” there was another loud thump on the ceiling. “…stock. DAMN THEM! If they come through the floor, I’ll take it out of all three of their hides!”

~~~…~~~

Lýðrest found herself stripped and in the tub in no time flat. Oils were poured in the water, a variety of scents rose in the steam. No sooner than she emmersed herself, the two women immediately set to unpacking her few things. Aelwydd had two cook pots, one boiling water for tea and the other with a wonderful smelling stew staying warm. Lýðrest slid lower into the tub as she realized that the few linens that were gifted to her were miniscule indeed. She was supposed to have something called a ‘hope chest’ in which she and her mother were supposed to have added to since her birth. Lýðrest was infuriated that these two women thought she might be lacking in any way. It wasn’t like she planned on getting married ever! She was about to tell them such, when Elfhelm’s mother pulled the last piece out of the last saddlebag. “Oh, Lýðrest! This is beautiful!” She turned to face the young woman in tub, holding up the delicate piece of lingerie. “He didn’t tear this from you?” She nodded to Aelwydd. “I’m surprised it isn’t in shreds!”

“I’ve not had a chance to wear it yet. We haven’t…” her voice trailed off.

Both women looked at each other. “Where,” Aelwydd asked gently, “has he been sleeping?”

“With me!” she cried. “And before you start about how painful it is for him, I know. But he gave me two moons and by Béma, I’m taking two moons!” Finally, the deluge of tears began, tears Lýðrest had denied herself for years. “I didn’t fekking want to get married! I didn’t fekking plan to get married! I certainly didn’t fekking plan to get married to someone who lived so fekking far away from my da!”

Somewhere in the midst of her tears, she realized water was being poured over her head and strong, but gentle hands wove soap through the long locks. She continued to cry while her hair was rinsed and then strong hands kneaded her shoulders. “Poor thing. Tired. Exhausted. Away from everything that’s normal in your eyes. Hard to transplant a rose when it’s just been yanked haphazardly from the ground and shoved in new dirt without any nourishment or aid. Here, sweetling. Drink this.”

Lýðrest found a steaming cup of something placed in front of her. Taking it with the tips of her fingers so as not to get burned, she blew in the top. “This has comfrey and willow bark. I can smell it. And I’m no delicate rose!”

“Aye,” Aelwydd said behind her. “You’re hurting and this will help your aches and pains and just so you know, roses aren’t delicate. They are rather hardy and grow in strange places. They have thorns for a reason, to cling, to climb towards the sunshine, but one does have to take care of them and treat them with great respect.”

“Here,” Hereswið sat next to her, trencher in hand. “Give me the cup.” Lýðrest obediently handed it over and took the trencher, the smell of the hardy stew making her mouth water. “Eat up and don’t worry about manners, today. We’ll drum that into you later.” The stew was delicious, much better than the dried tack and wild game the men charred on the fire on their trip back from Druncenig Ende. Lýðrest concentrated on the food in her hand, vaguely listening as the two women worked behind her, not caring they went through her medicine bag, nodding in agreement at her obvious knowledge.

“You sewed up my son and aided in his healing.” Hereswið was sitting next to her again, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “Gauwyn says you saved his life, bathing him and then sewing him up and making poultices and teas to help him and making sure he came home.”

Lýðrest’s body was relaxing, the food and the tea doing their job on her body. “There were three I tended to. He was the worst.” She looked over to her mother-in-law, her eyes heavy. She handed the now empty trencher back to the woman. “I couldn’t let him die in the bed. Not under my da’s roof.” Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, the fire in it still evident. “Not on my watch.” She looked up to see tears freely flowing down the woman’s face. “Please don’t cry.”

“I’m happy. You saved my youngest son’s life. I love you already as if you were my own.” She nodded once, really a dip, before standing up.

Aelwydd made up the bed while Hereswið bonded with her new daughter-in-law, using the linens Lýðrest brought with her and spreading the thin quilt left at the foot. The woman was making note of the things she saw the cottage was going to need: cook pots, mugs, eating utensils, a wardrobe, pillows and a new quilt. The mattress needed restuffed and unless Elfhelm had forgotten a saddlebag or two, his bride needed clothing and needed clothing bad. She owned little more than what she wore. Tenderly, the woman put the filmy piece of lingerie in the trunk at the foot of the bed and laid out one of the girl’s nightgowns, noting it was thin and over-worn as well. She shook her head. What was her father thinking, not keeping up with his daughter’s needs? Didn’t he have a clue? Perhaps he had done the best he could by her and maybe Elfhelm was her meal out of whatever purgatory she hailed from. If that was the case, she didn’t blame the girl’s da one bit for forcing this marriage. As it were, they would be sewing for days, but it needed to be done.

Suddenly, the cottage was diffused with light, Elfhelm stepping into the home. Lýðrest was more asleep than awake in the cooling water and with her back to the door, didn’t seem to notice. Quickly, his mother made her way to him. “Go to the house,” she whispered, “and have your sisters give you a few big towels. Your home and bride,” she gently admonished, “are sadly lacking the necessities and niceties.”

“Neither one of us planned-”

“I know.” She shoved him out the door. “We’ll fix that, but it might take a few weeks. Go get the towels and I’ll have dinner hot for you when you return.” She pulled the door gently to, before going to the fire and moving the hook with the stew back over the low fire.

Elfhelm returned soon enough, in time to watch his mother sit behind his wife, still in the tub, brushing out her damp, long hair. Unbound, it was glorious and truth was, he hadn’t seen it in anything but a braid, long and thick down her back. With a whispered finger to his lips, he sent them out, before sitting down behind her and finishing the job. Gently, he platted it, much like he did his horse’s tail, noticed and cursing himself for the stiffness obvious in her shoulders and back. Tenderly, he caressed the stiffened knots so visible, hearing her sigh in relief as he worked the knots out. She didn’t seem aware of his presence, much less that they were alone. He allowed her to lay languid in the tub, while he spooned up and ate the stew his mother left. The two women were adroit in running the tavern as well as the garrison and he had no doubt they would teach the runnings of such well to his wife.

He just needed to teach her to be a wife and from his observations of his da and mother as well as from his Marshal and his wife, the best way to teach was to show compassion, tenderness and to lead with rewards and a calm hand. Right now, Lýðrest needed all of that and badly. When he finished with his stew, he set the bowl on the table and pulling the quilt back from the bed, he picked up the towel he retrieved from his mother’s.

“Stand up, léoflic.” Lýðrest did such, making no remark that the command came from her husband, not her mother-in-law or the Marshal’s wife. Elfhelm forced himself not to gaze on her, the slenderness of her curves, the beauty of her. Wrapping her up in the towel, he lifted her from the tub, and carried her to the bed. He set her down lovingly and dried her off, before tossing the towel aside and drawing the linen nightshift over her. “Up you go.” Lýðrest groaned as she climbed into the high bed and scooted over to the wall. He threw the quilt over her and blew out the lamp that was next to the bed.

Realizing there was a mess, he put the dishes and the now empty pot on the sideboard, before stoking the fire to a roar. He then began the long, arduous process of emptying the tub, tossing the water out of the door bucket by bucket. His mother lamented why men used the river. She had never had to empty a tub, much less fill it! The river, while cold, was more convenient! Either way, he figured now that he had a wife, he better get used to having a tub. Which meant, he needed to acquire a tub. He had a feeling the rainy day he had been saving for had come with the ferocity of a summer storm and his saved meager silver was probably getting ready to dry up.

Which reminded him; whose tub was this? He didn’t have a tub…

He shook his head as he pulled the drop bar on the door and closed the windows, save one. He didn’t worry about thieves or miscreants crawling through the window. Only a crazy man would attempt mischief in a captain’s quarters in the garrison. It was spring and while the night was cool, it was a welcome contrast to the fire in the hearth. Quietly, he crept to his bed, stripping off down to his small clothes and laying his clothing neatly on the chest. He crawled in the bed with his wife, curling up and spooning her to him.

Somewhere, deep in the back of her sleeping soul, Lýðrest realized her husband had put her to bed and when the low rumble began in her ear as he pulled her into the protective cocoon of his embrace, she blissfully fell deeper into sleep.

tbc

My Sweet Thing Chapter 08 A Room of our Own

Tags

LOTR, fanfiction, rohirrim

A Room of our Own

Gamhelm was true to his word. He chose a gentle, sweet mare for her and brought her with him for Lýðrest to ride to her new home. The mare was very pretty, chestnut with a blaze and four socks. Her white tail swished at the flies buzzing about, but she was more interested in the apple that Lýðrest was feeding her. Gamhelm said the mare was a gift from him and his wife, a bridal gift of sorts. She could name her anything she liked.

But for right now, she stroked a velvet nose and watched tearfully as her things were tied to the pack animal brought as well.

Cynni and Belle surprised her that morning, bringing linens, gifts. They knew Lýðrest had no hope chest, had nothing prepared. She never intended to marry, never thought of it. Her life had been with her father, so this was all a surprise. As they helped pack the precious bedsheets and pillow cases, Cynni laid out an exquisite gown, exquisite to Lýðrest’s eyes at least, of a white, almost transparent lawn, not meant to sleep in.

“I know he hasn’t… the two of you haven’t yet,” she whispered. “And I don’t know why you’re waiting or he is, but when you decide to make a real marriage of it, you wear that!”

“Cynni, I can’t take this!” Lýðrest tried to hand the garment back.

“Yes, you can.” Cynni took the gown from her and proceeded to pack it anyway. “I’ll be honest, I wore it once, on my wedding night. Coenwahl took one look at me in it, pulled it over my head and told me never to bother with such again!” Belle laughed at that. “I’m glad he didn’t rip it from my body.”

Lýðrest smiled wanly before admitting. “It scares me. It fekking well pisses me off, I’m scared of nothing except what is going to happen when our agreement is reached.”

“Agreement?” Belle perked up. “What agreement?”

Lýðrest dropped her head and whispered. “Once Gamhelm arrived and told Elfhelm and myself we were really married, Elfhelm gave me two moons to come to accept it. Not only has he been teaching me to ride, he’s been…well…”

“Kissing the captain!” Belle finished for her. “You lucky girl!”

“And sleeping in the bed with him, poor man.” Cynni finished. “He’s going to have blue balls, for sure.”

“Blue balls?”

At that moment, Cynni jerked her head at Belle, who shut the door and the two women explained the full facts of life to Lýðrest.

So now, she stood in front of a pretty mare she would get to name, that was hers, and watched dispassionately as her linens and clothing… and that… piece of lingerie that she was supposed to seduce Elfhelm with was pack in rolls behind her saddle and Gauwyn’s saddle.

“Girl, are you not even going to say good-bye?” Lýðrest looked up into the eyes of her father, a man who this morning seemed to have aged another twenty years since last night.

“You hate me,” she whispered. “Why should I say good-bye?”

The man gently took the reins from her and tossed them over the horse’s pommel. Taking her in his arms, he drew her close, tucking her under his chin. “I love you. Don’t doubt for a moment I don’t love you. That’s why I’m doing this. He won’t ill-treat you, not like some others I could name.” In that moment, he looked up, over his daughter’s head, to see Hucohun leaning against the wall of the tavern, a mixture of revulsion and sarcastic arrogance plastered across his face. In a moment of fatherly protection, he drew her closer, clutched her tighter. “We’ve been through this. I raised you tough. Besides, Hæfern will be there. I’m not far; only a few days away. If you need me, I’ll be there. Once someone kills Hucohun, you can come visit.” That brought a chuckle from the young woman. Hamon tucked his finger under her chin, lifting her face and forcing her to meet his eyes. “That captain of yours is going to be somebody; a garrison commander and you’ll be a garrison commander’s wife. Surely, that is much better than being the tavern owner’s daughter. Please, Lýðrest. I love you more than my own life. Don’t leave me with angry words between us. I couldn’t bear that.”

That was what she needed to hear. No one was close enough to hear her, but her father heard her just fine. Both were teary – eyed when she mounted up and followed her husband out of town.

She didn’t look back.

Hamon watched until there was nothing left but dust. He knew when the bastard sidled up next to him.

“Happy? You could have given her to me just as easily and she’d have stayed he-”

Another one of Hucohun’s teeth went flying into the dust and he soon followed it to the earth. “You are filth and that captain is going to be somebody, something you’re not. and never will be!” Hamon bent over and pulled the man from the soil by the scruff of his tunic. “I just sent the only thing that means shite to me away because of you and I’m thinking it’s long past time you found a new place to hang your gloves. A long, long way from here.” He shoved him away, throwing him back into the dirt. “Get the fuck out of here. If you darken my tavern again, I’ll put a hurt on you so bad you’ll never stand up again.” With that, Lýðrest’s father turned and stormed off.

Hucohun pulled himself up, a snarl on his face. He wiped spit and blood from his face, looking at the streaked remnants of blood and dirt from his cuff. “I don’t think so, old man,” he muttered. “You’ve not seen the end of me. Neither has your bitch daughter!” With that, he got up, and strode off, not noticing those who turned away after watching the spectacle

~~~…~~~

By the time they pulled into Cantwaraburg four days later, Lýðrest was cursing anyone who came near her. Between riding in the saddle from sun-up to sun-down and then sleeping with nothing between her and the bare earth save her husband’s cloak, every muscle, every bone in her body hurt. If she were the type to cry, she would have. As it were, she damn near cried with relief when the garrison and the settlement surrounding it came into view.

“Welcome home, Lýðrest. Welcome to Cantwaraburg.” Gamhelm almost had a smile on his face. He rode out in front, moving to the head of the battalion of riders. Lýðrest watched him with exhaustion. How could he stand to ride after all this time? Elfhelm had taken his place next to him and even he looked comfortable and at ease in the saddle. Lýðrest stayed in the center, next to Gauwyn, who in all honesty had spent more time with her and spoken more to her during the trip than her own husband.

“You’re hurting.” The young man was pale, but heartier than he had been in Druncenig Ende.

“How the fek can you tell?”

Gauwyn grinned at the woman. He’d gotten used to her earthy language, realized it was a defense mechanism for the most part and decided long before they left her home that he liked her. He figured she was just the thing for his perfect and oh – so – very proper older brother. Elfhelm needed a little spice and the tavern owner’s daughter was perfect. “You’re not used to being in the saddle. You do get used to it. Eventually. Ah. The family is coming to greet. Put your happy face on, Lýðrest. You’re getting ready to meet your new relations.”

Lýðrest decided her happy face was left unpacked in the wardrobe back at Druncenig Ende.

~~~…~~~

Luckily for her, at least in her eyes, Elfhelm’s family had been most interested in Gauwyn. A gaggle of women surrounded his horse, whispering, bickering, petting him. The eldest woman, who Lýðrest suspected properly was Elfhelm’s mother, went to Elfhelm first, following his nod toward Lýðrest. In an instant, the young woman realized, she was being inspected like some sort of farm animal and drew up angrily over the open scrutiny. Upon seeing Lýðrest’s backbone harden, the woman smiled, years falling from her face and patted her son on the arm. She then headed to her youngest and elbowing her way through the group of women, proceeded to fuss over him.

“Ready to go home?” Elfhelm materialized at her side. He was windblown and hale and didn’t look a bit uncomfortable or sore. He was carrying her pack from Gauwyn’s horse in his lap. Reaching over, he took the reins from her hand. “Come on.” Slowly, he led her around the walled fortress and beyond the settlement. People came out from their homes, greeting the captain, many calling him by his first name. They smiled and stared curiously at the woman he was leading.

Around the edge of the wall were several uniform cottages. Each one had small yards and diminutive gardens in the back. Elfhelm stopped in front of one and after dismounting, helped his wife from her horse. She was limping and stiff from being in the saddle so long for her and he winced at her grimace when she took her first tentative steps, bent over.

“Béma, I hate you,” she whispered.

“I’m sure you do, Léoflic. I hate me too, if it makes you feel any better.”

Lýðrest stood up straight, vertebrae in her back popping as she did so. For a moment, she stared at her husband, before breaking into a grin and laughing harder than Elfhelm had ever heard her laugh. It caused him to smile and for a moment, the two of them shared a happy moment together, causing their neighbors to come out and stare.

Eventually however, Elfhelm’s chuckle turned into a rather sweet, gentle smile. Stepping in front of her, he opened the door to the small cottage and dropped the saddlebags just inside. “I’m going to put the horses up. Usually,” he whispered quietly, “you should tether and curry your own horse, but I know you’re hurting, so I’ll do it for you today. I have some things to tend to for a few hours, but I’ll be back by dinner. Go on in and get situated.” He kissed her on the forehead, and turned to leave. “OH!” He turned back around, still walking backwards towards the horses, “My mother will probably show up shortly, once she gets Gauwyn situated and knowing them, she’ll probably bring my sisters as well. Don’t let them take over,” he winked. Taking both sets of reins, he walked off, leaving her standing in the dust. She watched him for a moment, suddenly alone. She shivered in the spring breeze, before steeling her screaming backbone and turned to the house.

Her House. Hers and Elfhelm’s. She never thought about having her own home, didn’t consider it ever and now all of a sudden, she had a house, her own garden and her own horse – a horse she still hadn’t named. Perhaps, she should just name the sweet mare Æppel, seeing how she loved them so much. Elfhelm told her she would spoil the mare and make her fat and useless if she continued to feed her every apple from every apple tree they passed. She had a husband as well; one she admitted to herself was more patient than she. He was kind, she would give him that much. In a way, she felt bad, especially after what Cynni and Belle told her, what he must be experiencing when he slept and snuggled with her. She wondered, for not the first time, if she just shouldn’t go ahead and give in; let him have her…

Bah, by all that was fekking holy, he gave her two moons and by Béma, she was going to wait her two full moons! She took a deep breath and stepped up into the house.

It was dark.

No, really. It was dark in the house. She couldn’t see shite. Every window was closed, shut up and she bumped into something in her way. With a curse, she pulled the door as far open as she could get it and propped it with a saddlebag. Now able to see somewhat into the gloomy interior, she made her way to the windows, unfastening and throwing them open, latching them back. Once they were all released, she turned to look closer at her new home.

It was small and it smelled as if it had been closed up for a long time. Well, it wasn’t so small; it was bigger than the room she had at Druncenig Ende and the room she shared with Elfhelm, but considering everything…

There was a large fireplace, large enough for her to step into. Taking a closer look, she could large hooks that swung in and out. Not only was it made to keep the cottage warm in the winter, it served a two-fold purpose for cooking. As she turned, she saw a cupboard and sideboard, a small, but serviceable table with two chairs. There were two benches in front of the fireplace. Walking across the small sitting area, she opened the cupboard to find a few trenchers, an earthen mug and two small, thinning pots. Obviously, her kitchen was ill equipped. Wandering away from the sitting area, there was a darkened area in the back. Squinting, she found a bed that would barely be big enough for the two of them, along with a chamber pot sitting in the corner. There was a trunk at the foot of the bed and opening it, she realized it was full of his clothes and no room for her few things. She turned back towards the door and it hit her how bare the house was, that it was meant for one man, not a husband and wife and as it stood, was barely suitable for the two of them.

Clearly overwhelmed, she returned to the sitting area and sank onto one of the benches. She stared into the cold fireplace, her mind running in circles.

What had her da done to her? She needed to unpack, but unpack where? Dinner. Elfhelm said he’d be back by dinner. Was she expected to cook? And cook what? In what? Were they expected to share a trencher? And the chamber pot, there was no privacy screen. Were they expected to… do their business in front of each other… Béma!

I’m not going to cry I’m not going to cry dammit to fekking Mordor I’m not going to cry fekking shite can I run home…

She sat there a long time, her back, legs, going numb. She didn’t hear the activity, the noise, going on outside her door.

“Lýðrest? It is Lýðrest, isn’t it?” A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped completely from her perch.

“What? What in fekking… how did you get in? How did you know my name?”

The woman was in her middle years, her rust-colored hair, starting to go gray. This woman had openly perused her when she arrived and without introduction, Lýðrest knew who she was. Realizing the light had dimmed in the room, she looked over her shoulder to the door to discover it was crowded with females galore; young women to young girls. Off to the side, was another middle-aged woman, looking at her with a rather calculating gleam.

“Oh honey, you’re stiff.”

“No shite! I’ve been in a fekking saddle for four days! Who are you?”

There were several shocked, sharp intakes of breath from the group and the two middle-aged women looked at each other, communicating silently. They nodded to each other before the one before her addressed the group. “The lot of you run on home.” A chorus of robust disappointment rose up from the group. “Do not argue. You can get to know your new sister later. She’s tired and needs a hot bath.” Elfhelm’s mother turned to look around, clearly now in command. “No tub. What is it with men and bathing in the river! Why are all of you still here? Shoo!” She pointed to the other woman. “Aelwydd! There is no tub in here. How is she supposed to have a relaxing bath?”

“I’ll take care of that – oh look, just the right timing!” The woman – Aelwydd – stepped to the door. “GAMLING! You and your father retrieve our tub and bring it here! DON’T YOU ROLL YOUR EYES AT ME! I DON’T GIVE A WARG’S BUTT IF YOU’RE TALLER THAN I AM! I CAN STILL TAN YOUR HIDE! JUST DO IT!” She stepped back, glaring. “AND BRING MY HERB KIT! YOUR FATHER KNOWS WHICH ONE! AND ALL MY BIG POTS!” She stepped back in with her arms across her chest. “I swear that boy gets more and more obstinate each day!” She nodded hard once at Elfhelm’s mother. “He needs a hard-headed, stubborn woman to take him in hand!”

Lýðrest eyes were bouncing back and forth between the two. “I thank you very much for the bath, but would you mind telling me who in Forodwaith you are and why you’re in my home?”

It was silent for a moment, while Lýðrest waited expectantly. “Well?”

Finally.

“Gamhelm said she was earthy and a bit rough around the edges.”

“A bit what??? Rough? What the-”

“I am Hereswið, Elfhelm’s mother,” the woman interrupted her smoothly. She stepped around the bench and took Lýðrest by the hand. “This,” she nodded to her companion, “is Aelwydd, Marshal Gamhelm’s wife.” That one dipped her head as well. “We’ve come to help you unpack, see what we can do help you get settled, but,” she looked around the spartan quarters, “it appears this won’t be a job done in a day. Are those two saddle bags all you have?” Lýðrest nodded mutely. Aelwydd was checking the cupboard.

“Looks as if when Berctuald was transferred to the Eastemnet, his wife took everything with them!” She waved the two pots. “I wouldn’t put anything in these, they are so thin! Their dinner would end up all over the fire! Tell me, girl,” Gamling’s mother addressed her, “do you know how to cook?”

Lýðrest, exhausted as she was, didn’t appreciate being backed into a corner by two women she didn’t know. “No, I don’t fekking cook! I’ve run my da’s tavern for the last ten summers, thank you very fekking much! I’ve had no time learning the-” and with this her voice went up and octave and simpered, “genteel lady arts!” She sat down with a plop. “I’ve spent my life keeping paws off of me, pulling brews and hauling caskets of ale.”

“I take it you’re used to keeping men in line?”

“Did a damn fine job of it until some unmuzzled foot-licker decided I was his next conquest and wouldn’t take no for an answer!”

By now both Hereswið and Aelwydd were perched on the bench, hands on their knees, across from Lýðrest. “So that wild tale that Gamling told us about Elfhelm hiding you in his bed and then spooning up with you in his cloak is true?”

Lýðrest snorted and nodded affirmatively. “My da and two of his serving women caught us, even though I was in my clothes and shoes and under the quilt and Elfhelm was on top of the quilt, wrapped in his cloak! Nothing I could do would sway my da.” She stared up at the rafters, praying to find a solution. “By the time the Marshal got there, he said we were good and married and might as well get used to it. Who in all of Béma’s children, gets caught wrapped in a cloak, unintentionally and fully clothed?”

Aelwydd leaned forward, smiling brightly. “I did! Best mistake I ever made!” There was much noise suddenly as Gamling and his father entered the bungalow, carrying a large tub. They set it down in front of the fireplace and began to pull the pots from it, as well as some firewood.

“I supposed you want us to draw water from the well?” Gamhelm’s voice was droll. “I figured as such. Come on, Gamling. Stop glaring at Lýðrest. You’re not making her feel welcome.” The women watched and waited until the two men left the cottage. Aelwydd pulled her herb kit from the tub and digging through the sack, found flint. She knelt in front of the fireplace and began to strike the flint, quickly starting up a small fire.

“Can you count money?”

“Yes!”

“YES!” Hereswið pumped her fist. “Excellent! You are going to fit in perfectly!”

“Fit in?” Lýðrest was now fully exasperated, worn out and wanting nothing more than to crawl into the unquilted bed and go to sleep. “What in Gates of Isengard are you talking about?”

The two women grinned at each other before Aelwydd spoke up. The woman spoke so fast that Lýðrest could barely understand her. “My husband might be Marshal, but I run that garrison. Hereswið runs the tavern, you’ll feel right at home there, I’m sure.”

“Someday,” Hereswið picked up, “Elfhelm will have his own garrison, will be a highly ranked captain with at least one complete éored under his command if not more. He’s going to need a wife who can handle the garrison, handle the payroll, paying the soldiers and make sure the stock and inventory of the weapons, food, tack, and supplies are adequate and well fortified.”

“She’ll need a level head, take no guff from the men, much less from her husband-”

“-and run that place like a well bred horse! And that’s-” Hereswið jabbed her finger in Lýðrest’s sternum, “is where you step in!”

tbc

happy guy day!!!

its been awhile…