Evening settled upon the town as the cool, damp air smelled softly of wet grass and dust. As most evenings, people paced down the roads in Aldburg: some happier than others. Away from the public eye inside the little home perched near a stream in the middle of town, Blodeucoed lingered indoors as Gerta had asked. Her hands tried to fiddle with the wood to relight the fire that had died down after she had laid in her bed for a while, but she struggled to keep her hands steady. They shook with a soft agony that sliced through her torso and cramped her muscles. After a few weak and failed attempts, she dropped the wood in her hands and stumbled to her feet. Her mind felt scattered and her skin flushed as she instinctively started towards her bed once more. Each step seemed to drag the burden of pain down onto her until she had fallen onto the floor clutching her stomach. Laying there for quite some time, she felt the warmth form on the skirt of her dress pressing against her legs and the coppery smell fill the room. Her curly hair frizzed when the soft little beads of sweat glistening her forehead and pain creased lines of concern covered her face as the room continued to dim from the setting sun outside.
It seemed to the young Dunlending that many lifetimes past in seconds as time turned to illusion of disoriented heartbeats. Suddenly a new smell burst into the room with a stream of cool, soft light streamed in across the floor in a rectangular. The sweet scent of honey wine darkened by the odour of sweat that normally sent Blodau on edge quickly washed away from the growing metallic scent.
"Unig!" The deep and familiar voice of Garsig, or Dunbane, called out as footsteps hit the floor and the door swung shut with a thud. Normally resentment would fill Blodau from his presence, but she could not muster any emotions with the pain that gripped down on her, "Where are you, lazy savage? There's no supper!"
Suddenly Blodau felt a sharp pain in her side where a foot made impact with her body, but that pain she knew and understood unlike the deep internal agony. Her body still shuttered and she opened her mouth to speak. ‘Make your own damn food and leave me alone’; ‘Go away no one likes you’; ‘I’m not your slave you filthy criminal’ were some of the comments that fought to squirm up her throat and out her mouth, but another rolling cramp cut her off as only a week, pathetic groan escaped.
A soft, gentle light began to glow as Garsig lit a candle and approached Blodau on the floor. He stopped just beside his eyes followed the dark stain seeped between her legs and where the lighter fabric of the hand-me-down dress clung to her. He muttered, "The fuck is this...you were pregnant?" Hesitating for a moment, he began cursing under his breath, "Gerta would never forgive me. You'd better thank Bema for that." He stooped and scooped Blodau up, cradling her against his chest. Knowing from the warmth of sticky blood on his arm and the paleness of her skin that made her almost look less like the savage race she came from that leaving her would only risk another death under Gerta’s roof. With a grim look on his face, he kicked the door open and walked quickly outside.
Even in her weakened state, Blodau could feel the urge to kick and pull away from a man she so deeply feared, but her body would not cooperate with such ideas as she laid limply in his arms. Her head leaned against his chest; which she found it surprisingly warm against her cheek. Letting out a faint breath, her voice slipped up from the back of her throat with a slight rasp that made it almost sound like a growl, "You... don't need to help." Although part of her consciousness was grateful for the help, a larger part of her consciousness stung with confusion. "I can survive... alone."
Garsig snorted and his gaze shifted down to her with each step moving brusquely. “You're doing a real good at it," he muttered sarcastically. "Just don't talk, save your breath."
As he passed two men, they gawked at the sight of the man known as Dunbane carrying the small blood covered wealh in his arms. “I didn’t think he’d really do it,” one murmured.
Ignoring them, Garsig pushed passed the men and snarled sharply, "Move! I'm taking her to Layfled." And so they moved, as did other people who gaped at the sight as they passed.
"Sometimes," Blodau mumbled as she ignored both the people they passed and his command for her to stop talking, "you make me so angry. Easier if..." she winced a little before continuing in a more breathy whisper, "if you just stay evil."
Shifting Blodau in his arms, Garsug took the steep set of stairs towards the lower part of the village. A soft grunt escaped his throat, "Don't worry, Unig," he muttered with an almost gentle emphasis on her disliked nickname of Unig. A slight smirk curled his lips softly as he spoke, "I will always be Dunbane. That scop's leavings will not have the privilege of killing you."
A brief pause followed his comment before Blodau felt a little smile that quickly contorted to an expression of pain. “Consistent. Thank you.” She whispered out to him.
Garsig approached the lane that lead to the house of the healer, Layfled’s herb gardens laid out in tidy rows. He called out to her when he got to the door, kicking it with a heavy boot. As the door slams open and hits the wall behind it with a soft thud, Layfled quickly stood up from the pot she previously was using. The warm scent of biscuits and stew flooded Blodau’s nose as they moved into the new setting. Unlike the cold, blue light that trickled from the closed shutters of Gerta’s house before, Layfled’s house pooled with warm glow and welcoming light. Food, sweet herbs, and cleanliness seemed to scent the room, but the thick coppery smell of Blodau’s own blood overpowered all the naturally kind smell.
"What is it n-..." Layfled’s voice cut off at the bizarre sight before her. For a moment, her brows furrowed as she looked from Garsig to the wealh in his arms before she fully comprehended the present blood on the wealh’s dress and staining the man’s arm. "Oh dear,” she said as she began to shift the teapot over the fire and hastily grabbed for rags and various bottles, “What have you done boy? Put her on the bed. Quickly now."
"I didn't do anything, I found her like this on the floor. Gerta was away.” Garsig responded as he hastily carried Blodau’s body across the room and settled her onto the bed. "She was with child it seems." His hand brushed against his tunic, the sticky dark blood smearing from the motion.
"Yes, the young scop brought her to me a little while ago. This is always a risk for women," Layfled said calmly as she shoved some of the towels towards Garsig, "Take these. Get them wet with warm water. There should be some on the fire right now." She then moved along the bedside to rest her hand on Blodau's forehead. "Sadly there is not too much that can be done in these situations. I can do what I can to try and help the girl, but this is her battle.” Her eyes made contact with the Blodau who stared up at the healer in silence and Layfled smiled a little, "She's conscious. That's a good sign."
"I just brought her I don't..." Garsig began to protest, but he cut himself off. Letting out a sigh, he took the rags and soaked them in warm water near the fireplace, “Why did he bring her, if not to end the seed before it took root?” He asked as he wrung the rags out before bringing them over. His eyes glanced down to Blodau in the bed and his brows furrowed.
Layfled shrugged a little and took the rags. Sliding Blodau’s soiled skirt up carefully, she began to press the towels between Blodau’s legs. Normally Blodau would feel a flush of embarrassment, but the pain overcame her senses and everything just felt sore when Layfled began to clean her. Another towel pressed against Blodau’s forehead as Blodau closed her eyes tightly and shuttered from another agonising cramp. "To ensure the child's safety,” Layfled continued as Blodau vaguely remembered the day Seaxa and the healer argued in the house just a month or so ago. “I believe, so that I could help the wealh along the way. Do not ask me about that boy's intents. He makes less sense than any child I've ever met. Always coming in here beaten up and with his dramatic problems, I have half a mind to hit him with a pan most days."
Despite the situation, Garsig smirked a little and held out another towel, “Sounds like he could use another beating, though kicking a whipped dog loses it's flavour after a while."
Shaking her head, Layfled let out a sigh and then shifted to glance back at Garsig, "There's a bag on my table. That one has tea that should be good. Can you put some into the teapot for me? Oh and help yourself to some stew and bread if you haven't eaten already. There's more than enough." Garsig nodded and moved towards the fire as Layfled continued, “I told Seaxa he needs to stop picking fights he can't win. The boy will never learn. I fear he will perpetually be a brainless child." She made a soft clucking noise in her mouth.
The large man made no comment to respond to Layfled as he carried the tea back over and settled it down beside the older woman on a small table. “They say a woman’s battlefield is in the child bed…” He hesitated, “I am glad I can at least fight my enemy.” He then turned away to serve himself stew from the pot on the fireplace.
Shrugging a little bit, Layfled murmured in a gentle tone, "A battle is a battle no matter where it is set, dear.” She lifted the wealh’s head to force Blodau to sit up a little bit, bringing the tea to Blodau’s mouth to sip. “We all have to be equally strong to survive. Man and woman." She then settled Blodau back down as she continued cleaning off the girl's forehead. "Some battles are more tangible and some are less."
"I can swing an axe and break the man trying to kill me, but what mother would cause her child harm, even as he's killing her?" He said in a very soft voice. "I am glad Bema saw it fit to equip me with a spear at birth."
"Motherhood is very complex and confusing. Every woman wields it differently just like how every man fights differently," Layfled said. Blodau felt the burn in her stomach again as Layfled lifted her head up, causing the young woman to grunt in protest. However, Layfled still managed to get more tea down Blodau’s throat despite Blodau’s objections. Making no comment to Blodau to comfort the panicky feeling inside the wealh’s stomach, Layfled merely continued speaking to Garsig, "The wealh is probably lucky to not have to suffer the pains of motherhood. I doubt the scop would have stuck around. He is not an honourable type, not that most men would suffer helping a savage raise an unwanted child. Being a mother alone is very hard."
“He would not have. I would not blame him either, she is a wealh,” Garsig snorted around the mouthful of food. “What Eorling would take her as a bride? He would be shamed. He should not have rutted her to begin with the fool." He took another few bites, brooding in silence before he set the bowl down. "I will go, Gerta might have returned and I won't have her worried over the blood."
"Take some of the stew with you for Gerta,” Layfled said somewhat absently as she continued handling Blodau. “She needs to keep healthy. I worry about the stress her husband's passing has put on her health. I will send the wealh home when she is better and can move more freely, but it might be some time before she's fully recovered."
"It is better this way," he said after a long silence while he collected another bowl and some bread for his aunt. "A child would have just made it worse for her...for everyone." And with that, Garsig left Blodau in her own fight with the aid of Layfled.
