The wind had picked up, warm gentle gusts making their way down Bree’s dusty streets. The rustle and clapping of washing strung from window to window created its own rhythm above her head. Joy leant against the stone wall surrounding the market square, Hjotr nestled against her chest, bound by cloth. That rustling of linen above lulled her into distant memories as she awaited Kip, the grocer, with the parceling up of her goods. Her limbs relaxed as she was encased in the fresh and new warmth that late spring was bringing to her tired bones. Glancing upward at the sky, the soft billowing clouds whisked by and the scent of thick and heavy pollen on the breeze, she recalled the feeling of his rough hands on her cheek, the bristle of wiry hair pressed upon her lips and the musky scent of damp fir wood and sap. Oh how she had missed him, her husband. She could see him in her mind's eye, venturing through lands she could only ever imagine from passing tales. ‘Twas just over two moons since he had left for Wilderland and his home.
“Ehm, Joy, miss? Everything’s ready for ye.”
She moved away from the wall and looked over to Kip, a basket sat upon the roughly hewn trestle table in front of him, ladened with cheese, bread and fruit.
“Oh deary me, why thank ye, I was away with the world”
“When have ye ever not been, miss Joy? How’s the little one faring?”
Joy lifted up the weighty basket, resting it against her side. Her other hand gently laying upon the crown of little Hjortr, his breath lightly ebbing and flowing against her. She smiled somewhat.
“Much better than last week, I’m happy t’say. He’s been managing to get some sleep and such, nay longer kept awake by those bothersome coughs.”
Kip smiled weakly, searching Joy’s face.
“Well make sure ye do too, dear Joy. Y’look tired - can’t have ye coming down with anything.”
Joy nodded softly and ushered her goodbyes and well wishes before wandering southwards through Bree. She stopped momentarily outside the town hall, feeling a gentle rumbling through her belly, she turned in her tracks and began walking back on herself. Making her way through the ever winding streets to the West gate of Bree, she was greeted by the chorus of dog barks, chatter and market folk hawking their wares. A smile crept its way across her face as she wandered through the gate and saw the wild spring flowers and long grasses swaying in the breeze, sunlight filtering through the blades. She wandered towards the Greenway, down to the old bridge and the rock where her future all those winters ago was ultimately decided.
Placing the basket atop the rock, she gently shifted her weight to sit next to it, her legs dangling above the water. She gently rubbed Hjotr’s back as he lay, snoozing. The river meandered it’s way through the gold and green Bree fields, whilst Joy broke into a shiny green apple. How many times had she lingered here, at different junctions of her life, never once expecting to be in this very moment. The babe stirred, balling up his small hands into fists and rubbing his eyes, legs stretching and reaching for an escape from the cloth that swaddled him. Joy freed him of his trappings, laying him upon her lap, his gaze flitted around at the tree swaying above, head turning to the water and then gazing up at his mother's dark eyes.
“Well now little Hjotr, are ye ready for the day?”
She gently stroked the tip of his little button nose with her finger. His eyes, whilst large like his mothers, were of a striking steel blue when he was born - though as time had passed they had changed to a grey with tinges of hazel leaking through. She couldn’t help but ponder whether this would remain, or if in another years time he would have the brown eyes of her kin, just like her pa, or if that little glint of Drandr would remain. Hjortr gurgled in her lap before wrinkling up his small face, mouth wide and ready to pour his woe into the world. And all of a sudden, that once peaceful glade was pierced with the curdling cry of a hungry babe.
“Are ye hungry my little love, hm?”
Joy rested her body back against the earth bringing Hjortr to her chest, laying there in the sun she tried to allow herself to daydream of that fellow in sweeter times and let all her anxieties drip into the earth that held her. Yet knowing this worrisome lass, that was a harder task than any.
