NaNoWriMo 2010 - Nov 11
Nov 11 is always a good day for writing, since I get the day off work/school. Unfortunately, still didn't manage to catch up.
At some point in here, Stian got renamed to Birgir, if you're wondering who this apparently new character is.
Nov 11: 3421
Total: 16118
Calvagh didn't answer, but immediately pulled an arrow from his quiver and drew his bow. The god laughed, 'Don't worry about hurting me, for you will never hit.' With that, he drew his own sword and charged Calvagh as the prince released his arrow.
Calvagh quickly sheathed his bow and drew his sword. As the god approached, a flash of brilliant sunlight blinded the prince, and he felt the other's sword strike his arm, barely leaving a mark. 'I shall enjoy this fight,' Helios said.
The next time he tried that trick, Calvagh was ready. As the god charged, the prince raised his mirror, and the flash of light was deflected into the attacker's eyes. The god cried out, and the prince darted in to tie one of the silver ribbons around his wrist.
When the god realized what he had done, he laughed. 'You chose to decorate me, instead of striking a killing blow? This fight is too easy for such a prize.' Calvagh remained silent. Again and again he repeated the trick, tying the silver ribbons to the god's arms, and the gold ones to his wrists, while the god laughed at his misguided strategy.
Calvagh was flagging by the time his strategy came into force. The god was moving forward for another attack when he stumbled and fell. Leaping to his feet, he looked down for what he had stumbled on and saw the ribbon tied to his ankle had been grabbed by an old woman with two buckets at her side. Helios laughed and made to strike her down, but his sword was stopped. Again he looked, and saw the silver ribbon was caught at the other end by a small boy,holding on fiercely with his sister in a pink ribbon-covered dress helping him. Again he moved to smite them, and again was stopped by the silver ribbon, this one held by the nymph from the pool, whose playmates held the other ribbon.
The prince ran forward and took the remaining ribbon and shouted. In unison, the five of them pulled, flattening the god, then wrapped the ribbons around him until he could scarcely move, let alone fight. The god's golden eyes flashed as he looked up at Calvagh.
'You do not fight honorably, boy. It was to be a combat between us, without outside aid.'
'Such was never specified. You were too arrogant, thinking my friends were too far away. My mother was wise to give me the horn, to call friends in time of need, and the ribbons, to bind my opponent to peace.' His mother had not given him with those exact words, but he knew that calling the beaten god evil was not the actions of a victor. 'Do you concede that I won, and will give me the gem of my ancestors?'
With a snarl, the god conceded that it was so, and the prince and his friends unbound him.
'Take the stone and go,' he hissed. 'I wish to never see your face or the wretched rock again.' Calvagh bowed and offered his thanks and left.'
The journey back to his kingdom was a much more pleasant one, with his friends to travel with. The laughed and joked and enjoyed each other's company all the way to the castle doors, where the prince invited them in, telling them who he was as he did so. The old woman knew, of course, but the two children and their playmate were awed by his status.
His parents greeted him with hugs and affection, and welcomed his friends and allies in. 'Did you succeed on your quest?' the asked.
Prince Calvagh produced the gem, shimmering in the light, and the circle of ancestors appeared around them, such that even his parents and allies could see them. His eldest ancestor ceremonially took his crown off, bowed, and placed it on Calvagh's head.
His father, still the king until his death many years hence, knelt before his son. 'I may still be king,' he said, but you have been crowned by your ancestors. May your reign be one of peace and prosperity, with the gem of your ancestors to guide you.”
Aislin finished and looked at the other two. Birgir was leaning back, his eyes closed as they had been the entire story. Realizing that she was finished he sat up and smiled at her. Eydis was leaning forward, raptly listening. Any worries Aislin had had about telling a story that was too long and boring disappeared, to her relief.
“Wow, you weren't lying when you said you were a storyteller,” Eydis said and Aislin blushed.
“I can do better,” she mumbled, looking down. “I have a few more tricks up my sleeves, and I'm nowhere near as good as Silas was.”
“Silas?” Birgir asked, and Aislin found herself telling them about the bard that she loved. She didn't tell them about the magic, which meant her story didn't make quite as much sense as the one she had told Astor. She still didn't know enough about their attitudes towards magic, and she had no where to go, stranded up here in the mountains, if they decided they didn't like her for it.
Their conversation was interrupted by Espen entering, and Aislin finally as able to put a face to the name. He had ash blond hair that fell about his face and ears messily, and Aislin thought he would look better with a beard, rather than the clean shaven look he had. Like nearly everyone there, he towered over her, especially when he came to stand next to the three of them and addressed Birgir.
“You are the lynx's companion?” he asked, his voice deep. Birgir nodded. “How long has he been a shape changer?”
“Seven years.”
“And the madness came up on him when?”
Birgir paused, thinking. “I started noticing things about a year ago, but Mikkel was still coherent and himself until a month or two ago. Fairly rapidly he started having trouble changing back to a person.” Birgir hesitated again and looked down. “He asked me to wait as long as possibly before killing him. Mikkel talked long and eloquently about how he felt as a lynx, and the sheer power and coordination and beauty and the senses he had as a lynx. The sheer power of the hunt and exhilaration of a kill. He didn't want to lose that for anything. He had talked about similar thing even in the past three or four years, but more so recently. Lately it was all he could talk about coherently.” Birgir ducked his head again, and his hand brushed past his eyes. Aislin felt bad for him, even though she didn't quite understand everything that was going on.
Espen nodded. “There is still hope for him to come back to his human form, though I'm not sure how much longer he can last. I'm not sure if he'll ever safely make the change again.”
Birgir nodded and met the fox shape changer's eyes. “I think it might be best if he stayed as he was. I think he would prefer to stay as a lynx.”
Espen nodded slowly and turned away to kneel beside the big cat. Aislin turned to Birgir to ask him a question, but didn't want to interrupt with the expression on his face, and turned to Eydis. “I don't understand - what's going on?”
“Mikkel, the lynx, is going to be killed this evening, and Espen's not going to try and pull him back to his human form.”
“Um, why?” None of the shape changer business made sense to her, especially since she'd only really learned about it a couple hours ago.
“He'll taint the animal population. If anyone tries to use Mikkel as their change animal, bad things happen. It's much more merciful to kill them now, and save them trouble down the line. All shape changers know it's coming, and that's the other reason they have companions like Birgir.”
Aislin thought they were talking sufficiently softly that no one else could hear, but Birgir added, “That doesn't make it any easier. Spend the better part of a decade with someone and you like them, and knowing that they're going to leave you at the end of it and you'll have to kill them for it doesn't make it any easier when it happens.”
Awkwardly, Aislin patted his arm in an attempt at comfort. Espen returned and shooed the two girls away to talk to Birgir on his own.
Eydis tried to convince her to come to the execution funeral ceremony, but Aislin protested strenuously. She didn't want to tell the younger girl this, but it sounded macabre. Horrific. Barbarian. What kind of people killed a person because they had turned into a giant cat and gone crazy? Well, when she worded it like that it made more sense, but she still couldn't get her mind around the idea that they were going to kill a person, deliberately, on purpose, for no crime he'd committed. It didn't make any sense!
In the end, she didn't have much of a choice, since Dagny invited her to come too, and she didn't know anywhere she could hide out while the ceremony was going on, and she was also worried about angering her hosts, since they really didn't have any reason to take her in and put up with her all winter.
Espen and Birgir were at the front, with Dagny near them, and Eydis and Aislin behind them. She could barely see, which was just fine with her. The lynx was still bound in the center of the circle of people from the village, and everyone was unnaturally silent.
It was a brief ceremony. Espen stepped forward and called upon the gods to claim Mikkel's soul, and to return that of the lynx to LYNXGOD and offered a blessing to his tribe. Birgir followed with a brief description of the shape changer's life, and the events that had led to his taking the lynx's form, and what he had done with it. Aislin didn't think it sounded very epic, and not enough to justify his impending death, but by the murmurs from the other people, she was alone in that opinion. Well, not quite alone, she revised her opinion after looking at Eydis' expression. The aspiring warrior and hunter didn't seem to think that becoming an animal was worthwhile either.
Finally, Birgir stepped forward again, a knife in his hand. He knelt next to the lynx, who growled at him, but submitted to having it's head stroked, and didn't try to bite his hand when it came close. The brown haired man leaned close and whispered something in the cat's ear, then raised the knife and buried it in the base of the cat's skull.
Immediately the cat went limp, and Birgir hid his face in the cat's fur, his hand still on the hilt of the knife.
Espen started a low chant, and the rest of the tribe joined in. Aislin heard Eydis raise her voice beside her, but didn't dare join in for fear of disturbing the ceremony. She still didn't know quite what was going on, or why, but knew that this was a very serious moment for them, especially Birgir. He was still kneeling next to the body of the lynx, his face hidden, and his hand gently stroking the fur.
Once the chant ended, people started to drift away, talking quietly. Espen stayed, and moved to kneel next to the companion, but Dagny gestured for Eydis and Aislin not to stay, and they returned to Eydis' house for the night.
By the time the longest night arrived, the night that lasted two days, Aislin had become fast friends with Eydis, and was much in the habit of exchanging stories with Birgir. Espen sometimes joined them, and contributed stories of his own that Aislin did her best to remember. Unsurprisingly, most of Espen's tales dealt with shape changers and the gods, and tales of heroism involving both groups. Birgir was much better at telling tales from his tribe, of mundane and heroic acts of his ancestors and those he knew. Eydis mostly listened, though occasionally had one about warriors.
The near perpetual darkness outside made it difficult to spend time in the snow, and nearly the entire tribe spent most of their time in the main hall socializing, or in their tents sleeping, or in the main hall sleeping. Snow and sleet visited their wrath on the outdoors, and even the valley couldn’t shelter them from most of it.
Aislin had stopped tripping over her feet every time Eydis drilled her with the dagger, but it was still apparent to everyone that it would never be her strong point. Eydis, however, was the opposite. She trained with everyone in the village that knew daggers, and picked every technique up nearly as fast as it was shown to her. Birgir, in particular, had much new to teach her, since he had traveled from several valleys over chasing Mikkel. Seeing Eydis flourish with her weapon so much made Aislin yearn to use magic, and remember the feeling of something coming so easily to her. She only had a tiny store, however, and couldn't justify to herself wasting it for no particular reason. And, to be honest, she had little new to try out. The tome that she had so painstakingly brought from her home had lain mostly untouched in her bags. She couldn’t find a sufficiently private place and time to read it, with everyone inside and in each other's business so much.
In the months after the longest night, Aislin made a point of finding time to spend alone with the book. It was still difficult reading, especially since she couldn't put any of it into practice, and magic only really made sense in practice, but she was fairly certain that the spells and techniques she was reading about she would remember when it came time. She was nearly halfway through the book by the time the storms started disappearing and becoming less frequent. She was starting to think her paranoia regarding magic need not be so strong, for she had heard nothing against it in her stories, and indeed, the shape changing appeared to be magic as far as she could tell. Espen was remarkably closed mouthed about how one went about becoming a shape changer in his stories, even though most of them dealt with shape changers.
The question was brought out of her hands, however, when an unexpected visitor arrived after a week of chilly sunshine. It was late evening, and everyone was gathered inside, since the sun had set. She and Eydis were sparring, or rather, Eydis was sparring and Aislin was doing her best not to get killed or run into the knife. Birgir and several other onlookers were shouting advice, and at least one person was taking bets, though Aislin hadn't a clue why anyone would bet on her instead of Eydis. Maybe if they wanted to lose!
A knock sounded on the door, nearly lost in the roar created by so many people in one confined space. Someone heard it, however, and went to answer it. A storm was probably coming that night, ending their week of sunshine, and it was unthinkable to leave someone out in the weather.
The stranger was invited in, and Aislin did a double take and froze when she saw who it was. It was unmistakable. The tousled red hair, the blue eyes that she couldn't make out from here, the height though he was only average here, the bag slung over his back with a lute and a flute and probably some new musical instruments. Eydis nearly stabbed her when Aislin didn't doge or block her next strike, and shouted after her in confusion when Aislin ran across the room to throw herself at Silas.
“What are you doing here?” she asked before hugging him again. “How did you get here? It's winter and you couldn't have known where I went and it's over the mountains and I did my best not to be trackable by Cahir and what happened to you are you okay did you travel safely I missed you!”
Silas held up his hands to slow the deluge of questions. “I'm fine, I'm fine!” he said. “I missed you too. I didn't know you'd be here.” He looked down at her tenderly. “I hoped.”
A cough sounded behind her, and Aislin was suddenly aware that there was a small pool of silence around her in the large room as people watched. She let go of Silas and spun to face them, blushing.
“I am Silvanus,” Silan introduced himself. “May I beg shelter from the storm?”
Espen appeared from where ever he'd been and responded. “You are welcome, Silvanus, around our fire until the storm passes.” Less formally he added, “How do you know Aislin? She seems quite fond of you.” Aislin blushed harder at that, but tried to maintain some dignity. It didn't help that Eydis was looking at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Aislin and I were, ah,” he looked down at her and put his arm around her waist. “Very good friends before we had to leave Tirhaine.”
Aislin looked up at him sharply. “Tirhaine? Cahir?”
“I'll tell you about it later,” he replied.
Espen merely nodded and invited them to sit at the fire so Silas could warm up. He thanked the shape changer gratefully, and pulled himself as close to the fire pit as he could without burning himself.
“Are you a bard?” Eydis demanded once he'd gotten settled.
Silas chuckled and looked at her. “How did you guess? Why yes I am, travelling far and wide collecting the stories of the people I meet to preserve and pass them on for future generations. I am a collector of lore.” Aislin sighed and hugged herself. She had missed him, and hadn't even realized how much until he came back.
“Well, then tell us a story,” was Eydis' response, but Silas demurred.
“It is far too late and I am too travel weary. Perhaps you could give me a story instead?”
Eydis raised an eyebrow and replied scornfully, “Do I look like a storyteller? Birgir and Espen and Aislin are much more talented.”
Silas favored Aislin with a smile than sent shivers down her spine. “I know Aislin is a skilled storyteller, but I yearn for new tales. Perhaps Birgir or Espen...?” He trailed off, looking around for the faces to go with the names.
Long healed now, but still enjoying his close spot at the fire Birgir replied lazily, “I will accept your challenge.”
{Insert story here?}
Later, after Birgir's tale, Aislin invited Silas to bed next to her and Eydis in the main building. It wasn't worthwhile to go back to the cabins, and much warmer and safer to stay here. Most of the rest of the tribe had the same idea, so it was quite crowded. Still, Aislin thought she had some privacy whispering to the man she loved.
“How did you get here? Why did you come? What happened at home? Tirhaine? Isn't that Cahir's name that he wants to bring back?”
Silas nodded. “I believe I left for much the same reasons you fled. I could not stay safely in any land where Cahir had power, and that power has grown all winter. I knew you fled, of course,” He caressed her cheek and she looked down, smiling blissfully. “and I tried to follow, but by that time the snows had fallen and I couldn't escape. I didn't know where you'd gone, only that you had disappeared eastward. Some people remembered a bright, beautiful red-haired girl, but not enough, and your trail disappeared long before the mountains. By spring, I had no choice, however. Cahir has spread word of the spirits” the word came out bitterly, “crowning him far, and nearly everyone is hopeful that he can bring the joy and prosperity of our home when we were known as Tirhaine back. I'm sorry, even I have gotten used to using that word, lest anyone guess that I revile the very idea.”
At some point in here, Stian got renamed to Birgir, if you're wondering who this apparently new character is.
Nov 11: 3421
Total: 16118
Calvagh didn't answer, but immediately pulled an arrow from his quiver and drew his bow. The god laughed, 'Don't worry about hurting me, for you will never hit.' With that, he drew his own sword and charged Calvagh as the prince released his arrow.
Calvagh quickly sheathed his bow and drew his sword. As the god approached, a flash of brilliant sunlight blinded the prince, and he felt the other's sword strike his arm, barely leaving a mark. 'I shall enjoy this fight,' Helios said.
The next time he tried that trick, Calvagh was ready. As the god charged, the prince raised his mirror, and the flash of light was deflected into the attacker's eyes. The god cried out, and the prince darted in to tie one of the silver ribbons around his wrist.
When the god realized what he had done, he laughed. 'You chose to decorate me, instead of striking a killing blow? This fight is too easy for such a prize.' Calvagh remained silent. Again and again he repeated the trick, tying the silver ribbons to the god's arms, and the gold ones to his wrists, while the god laughed at his misguided strategy.
Calvagh was flagging by the time his strategy came into force. The god was moving forward for another attack when he stumbled and fell. Leaping to his feet, he looked down for what he had stumbled on and saw the ribbon tied to his ankle had been grabbed by an old woman with two buckets at her side. Helios laughed and made to strike her down, but his sword was stopped. Again he looked, and saw the silver ribbon was caught at the other end by a small boy,holding on fiercely with his sister in a pink ribbon-covered dress helping him. Again he moved to smite them, and again was stopped by the silver ribbon, this one held by the nymph from the pool, whose playmates held the other ribbon.
The prince ran forward and took the remaining ribbon and shouted. In unison, the five of them pulled, flattening the god, then wrapped the ribbons around him until he could scarcely move, let alone fight. The god's golden eyes flashed as he looked up at Calvagh.
'You do not fight honorably, boy. It was to be a combat between us, without outside aid.'
'Such was never specified. You were too arrogant, thinking my friends were too far away. My mother was wise to give me the horn, to call friends in time of need, and the ribbons, to bind my opponent to peace.' His mother had not given him with those exact words, but he knew that calling the beaten god evil was not the actions of a victor. 'Do you concede that I won, and will give me the gem of my ancestors?'
With a snarl, the god conceded that it was so, and the prince and his friends unbound him.
'Take the stone and go,' he hissed. 'I wish to never see your face or the wretched rock again.' Calvagh bowed and offered his thanks and left.'
The journey back to his kingdom was a much more pleasant one, with his friends to travel with. The laughed and joked and enjoyed each other's company all the way to the castle doors, where the prince invited them in, telling them who he was as he did so. The old woman knew, of course, but the two children and their playmate were awed by his status.
His parents greeted him with hugs and affection, and welcomed his friends and allies in. 'Did you succeed on your quest?' the asked.
Prince Calvagh produced the gem, shimmering in the light, and the circle of ancestors appeared around them, such that even his parents and allies could see them. His eldest ancestor ceremonially took his crown off, bowed, and placed it on Calvagh's head.
His father, still the king until his death many years hence, knelt before his son. 'I may still be king,' he said, but you have been crowned by your ancestors. May your reign be one of peace and prosperity, with the gem of your ancestors to guide you.”
Aislin finished and looked at the other two. Birgir was leaning back, his eyes closed as they had been the entire story. Realizing that she was finished he sat up and smiled at her. Eydis was leaning forward, raptly listening. Any worries Aislin had had about telling a story that was too long and boring disappeared, to her relief.
“Wow, you weren't lying when you said you were a storyteller,” Eydis said and Aislin blushed.
“I can do better,” she mumbled, looking down. “I have a few more tricks up my sleeves, and I'm nowhere near as good as Silas was.”
“Silas?” Birgir asked, and Aislin found herself telling them about the bard that she loved. She didn't tell them about the magic, which meant her story didn't make quite as much sense as the one she had told Astor. She still didn't know enough about their attitudes towards magic, and she had no where to go, stranded up here in the mountains, if they decided they didn't like her for it.
Their conversation was interrupted by Espen entering, and Aislin finally as able to put a face to the name. He had ash blond hair that fell about his face and ears messily, and Aislin thought he would look better with a beard, rather than the clean shaven look he had. Like nearly everyone there, he towered over her, especially when he came to stand next to the three of them and addressed Birgir.
“You are the lynx's companion?” he asked, his voice deep. Birgir nodded. “How long has he been a shape changer?”
“Seven years.”
“And the madness came up on him when?”
Birgir paused, thinking. “I started noticing things about a year ago, but Mikkel was still coherent and himself until a month or two ago. Fairly rapidly he started having trouble changing back to a person.” Birgir hesitated again and looked down. “He asked me to wait as long as possibly before killing him. Mikkel talked long and eloquently about how he felt as a lynx, and the sheer power and coordination and beauty and the senses he had as a lynx. The sheer power of the hunt and exhilaration of a kill. He didn't want to lose that for anything. He had talked about similar thing even in the past three or four years, but more so recently. Lately it was all he could talk about coherently.” Birgir ducked his head again, and his hand brushed past his eyes. Aislin felt bad for him, even though she didn't quite understand everything that was going on.
Espen nodded. “There is still hope for him to come back to his human form, though I'm not sure how much longer he can last. I'm not sure if he'll ever safely make the change again.”
Birgir nodded and met the fox shape changer's eyes. “I think it might be best if he stayed as he was. I think he would prefer to stay as a lynx.”
Espen nodded slowly and turned away to kneel beside the big cat. Aislin turned to Birgir to ask him a question, but didn't want to interrupt with the expression on his face, and turned to Eydis. “I don't understand - what's going on?”
“Mikkel, the lynx, is going to be killed this evening, and Espen's not going to try and pull him back to his human form.”
“Um, why?” None of the shape changer business made sense to her, especially since she'd only really learned about it a couple hours ago.
“He'll taint the animal population. If anyone tries to use Mikkel as their change animal, bad things happen. It's much more merciful to kill them now, and save them trouble down the line. All shape changers know it's coming, and that's the other reason they have companions like Birgir.”
Aislin thought they were talking sufficiently softly that no one else could hear, but Birgir added, “That doesn't make it any easier. Spend the better part of a decade with someone and you like them, and knowing that they're going to leave you at the end of it and you'll have to kill them for it doesn't make it any easier when it happens.”
Awkwardly, Aislin patted his arm in an attempt at comfort. Espen returned and shooed the two girls away to talk to Birgir on his own.
Eydis tried to convince her to come to the execution funeral ceremony, but Aislin protested strenuously. She didn't want to tell the younger girl this, but it sounded macabre. Horrific. Barbarian. What kind of people killed a person because they had turned into a giant cat and gone crazy? Well, when she worded it like that it made more sense, but she still couldn't get her mind around the idea that they were going to kill a person, deliberately, on purpose, for no crime he'd committed. It didn't make any sense!
In the end, she didn't have much of a choice, since Dagny invited her to come too, and she didn't know anywhere she could hide out while the ceremony was going on, and she was also worried about angering her hosts, since they really didn't have any reason to take her in and put up with her all winter.
Espen and Birgir were at the front, with Dagny near them, and Eydis and Aislin behind them. She could barely see, which was just fine with her. The lynx was still bound in the center of the circle of people from the village, and everyone was unnaturally silent.
It was a brief ceremony. Espen stepped forward and called upon the gods to claim Mikkel's soul, and to return that of the lynx to LYNXGOD and offered a blessing to his tribe. Birgir followed with a brief description of the shape changer's life, and the events that had led to his taking the lynx's form, and what he had done with it. Aislin didn't think it sounded very epic, and not enough to justify his impending death, but by the murmurs from the other people, she was alone in that opinion. Well, not quite alone, she revised her opinion after looking at Eydis' expression. The aspiring warrior and hunter didn't seem to think that becoming an animal was worthwhile either.
Finally, Birgir stepped forward again, a knife in his hand. He knelt next to the lynx, who growled at him, but submitted to having it's head stroked, and didn't try to bite his hand when it came close. The brown haired man leaned close and whispered something in the cat's ear, then raised the knife and buried it in the base of the cat's skull.
Immediately the cat went limp, and Birgir hid his face in the cat's fur, his hand still on the hilt of the knife.
Espen started a low chant, and the rest of the tribe joined in. Aislin heard Eydis raise her voice beside her, but didn't dare join in for fear of disturbing the ceremony. She still didn't know quite what was going on, or why, but knew that this was a very serious moment for them, especially Birgir. He was still kneeling next to the body of the lynx, his face hidden, and his hand gently stroking the fur.
Once the chant ended, people started to drift away, talking quietly. Espen stayed, and moved to kneel next to the companion, but Dagny gestured for Eydis and Aislin not to stay, and they returned to Eydis' house for the night.
By the time the longest night arrived, the night that lasted two days, Aislin had become fast friends with Eydis, and was much in the habit of exchanging stories with Birgir. Espen sometimes joined them, and contributed stories of his own that Aislin did her best to remember. Unsurprisingly, most of Espen's tales dealt with shape changers and the gods, and tales of heroism involving both groups. Birgir was much better at telling tales from his tribe, of mundane and heroic acts of his ancestors and those he knew. Eydis mostly listened, though occasionally had one about warriors.
The near perpetual darkness outside made it difficult to spend time in the snow, and nearly the entire tribe spent most of their time in the main hall socializing, or in their tents sleeping, or in the main hall sleeping. Snow and sleet visited their wrath on the outdoors, and even the valley couldn’t shelter them from most of it.
Aislin had stopped tripping over her feet every time Eydis drilled her with the dagger, but it was still apparent to everyone that it would never be her strong point. Eydis, however, was the opposite. She trained with everyone in the village that knew daggers, and picked every technique up nearly as fast as it was shown to her. Birgir, in particular, had much new to teach her, since he had traveled from several valleys over chasing Mikkel. Seeing Eydis flourish with her weapon so much made Aislin yearn to use magic, and remember the feeling of something coming so easily to her. She only had a tiny store, however, and couldn't justify to herself wasting it for no particular reason. And, to be honest, she had little new to try out. The tome that she had so painstakingly brought from her home had lain mostly untouched in her bags. She couldn’t find a sufficiently private place and time to read it, with everyone inside and in each other's business so much.
In the months after the longest night, Aislin made a point of finding time to spend alone with the book. It was still difficult reading, especially since she couldn't put any of it into practice, and magic only really made sense in practice, but she was fairly certain that the spells and techniques she was reading about she would remember when it came time. She was nearly halfway through the book by the time the storms started disappearing and becoming less frequent. She was starting to think her paranoia regarding magic need not be so strong, for she had heard nothing against it in her stories, and indeed, the shape changing appeared to be magic as far as she could tell. Espen was remarkably closed mouthed about how one went about becoming a shape changer in his stories, even though most of them dealt with shape changers.
The question was brought out of her hands, however, when an unexpected visitor arrived after a week of chilly sunshine. It was late evening, and everyone was gathered inside, since the sun had set. She and Eydis were sparring, or rather, Eydis was sparring and Aislin was doing her best not to get killed or run into the knife. Birgir and several other onlookers were shouting advice, and at least one person was taking bets, though Aislin hadn't a clue why anyone would bet on her instead of Eydis. Maybe if they wanted to lose!
A knock sounded on the door, nearly lost in the roar created by so many people in one confined space. Someone heard it, however, and went to answer it. A storm was probably coming that night, ending their week of sunshine, and it was unthinkable to leave someone out in the weather.
The stranger was invited in, and Aislin did a double take and froze when she saw who it was. It was unmistakable. The tousled red hair, the blue eyes that she couldn't make out from here, the height though he was only average here, the bag slung over his back with a lute and a flute and probably some new musical instruments. Eydis nearly stabbed her when Aislin didn't doge or block her next strike, and shouted after her in confusion when Aislin ran across the room to throw herself at Silas.
“What are you doing here?” she asked before hugging him again. “How did you get here? It's winter and you couldn't have known where I went and it's over the mountains and I did my best not to be trackable by Cahir and what happened to you are you okay did you travel safely I missed you!”
Silas held up his hands to slow the deluge of questions. “I'm fine, I'm fine!” he said. “I missed you too. I didn't know you'd be here.” He looked down at her tenderly. “I hoped.”
A cough sounded behind her, and Aislin was suddenly aware that there was a small pool of silence around her in the large room as people watched. She let go of Silas and spun to face them, blushing.
“I am Silvanus,” Silan introduced himself. “May I beg shelter from the storm?”
Espen appeared from where ever he'd been and responded. “You are welcome, Silvanus, around our fire until the storm passes.” Less formally he added, “How do you know Aislin? She seems quite fond of you.” Aislin blushed harder at that, but tried to maintain some dignity. It didn't help that Eydis was looking at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Aislin and I were, ah,” he looked down at her and put his arm around her waist. “Very good friends before we had to leave Tirhaine.”
Aislin looked up at him sharply. “Tirhaine? Cahir?”
“I'll tell you about it later,” he replied.
Espen merely nodded and invited them to sit at the fire so Silas could warm up. He thanked the shape changer gratefully, and pulled himself as close to the fire pit as he could without burning himself.
“Are you a bard?” Eydis demanded once he'd gotten settled.
Silas chuckled and looked at her. “How did you guess? Why yes I am, travelling far and wide collecting the stories of the people I meet to preserve and pass them on for future generations. I am a collector of lore.” Aislin sighed and hugged herself. She had missed him, and hadn't even realized how much until he came back.
“Well, then tell us a story,” was Eydis' response, but Silas demurred.
“It is far too late and I am too travel weary. Perhaps you could give me a story instead?”
Eydis raised an eyebrow and replied scornfully, “Do I look like a storyteller? Birgir and Espen and Aislin are much more talented.”
Silas favored Aislin with a smile than sent shivers down her spine. “I know Aislin is a skilled storyteller, but I yearn for new tales. Perhaps Birgir or Espen...?” He trailed off, looking around for the faces to go with the names.
Long healed now, but still enjoying his close spot at the fire Birgir replied lazily, “I will accept your challenge.”
{Insert story here?}
Later, after Birgir's tale, Aislin invited Silas to bed next to her and Eydis in the main building. It wasn't worthwhile to go back to the cabins, and much warmer and safer to stay here. Most of the rest of the tribe had the same idea, so it was quite crowded. Still, Aislin thought she had some privacy whispering to the man she loved.
“How did you get here? Why did you come? What happened at home? Tirhaine? Isn't that Cahir's name that he wants to bring back?”
Silas nodded. “I believe I left for much the same reasons you fled. I could not stay safely in any land where Cahir had power, and that power has grown all winter. I knew you fled, of course,” He caressed her cheek and she looked down, smiling blissfully. “and I tried to follow, but by that time the snows had fallen and I couldn't escape. I didn't know where you'd gone, only that you had disappeared eastward. Some people remembered a bright, beautiful red-haired girl, but not enough, and your trail disappeared long before the mountains. By spring, I had no choice, however. Cahir has spread word of the spirits” the word came out bitterly, “crowning him far, and nearly everyone is hopeful that he can bring the joy and prosperity of our home when we were known as Tirhaine back. I'm sorry, even I have gotten used to using that word, lest anyone guess that I revile the very idea.”