It was late in the afternoon when I tidied my hair, dusted off my dress, and walked over to pay Northgyth a visit. Ymma opened the door to me, and ushered me in as a welcome visitor.
“Have you come for something, Yllfa, or do you want…”
Ymma was sometimes over-chatty, but she was no fool.
“Oh, come now dear. You are shaking. Take a seat, I will bring you a chamomile tisane,” she said, making to boil some water.
I shook my head, though smiled at her, glad for her kindness.
Then Northgyth was there. She walked into the shop with a steady expression. “Yllfa is here to see me,” she stated simply. “Perhaps make a tisane for all of us, Ymma? Bring it to my room when it is ready.”
Ymma nodded, her own wise-head now taking over. She made to pat me reassuringly on the right shoulder, but her eyes widened as I winced at her touch.
“And some arnica ointment,” Northgyth added.
In the main back room that served as its owner’s workspace, dwelling place, and study, Northgyth took her usual seat next to the spinning wheel. She gestured for me to take a seat opposite, which I did, then she looked at me long and thoughtfully.
“Well, dear?”
Now I was there, I found it hard to begin.
“Maybe the bruised shoulder?” Northgyth prompted. “Did something...hit you?”
I smiled a little. That was the least of my concerns, and she knew it.
“Aye, Waelden’s boot.” I saw a flicker cross Northgyth’s eyes as if I were confirming what she already knew, and then there was a gasp and the sound of rattling mugs, as Ymma entered the room with a tray.
“He kicked you, that high?”
“I was on my knees.”
Northgyth held up a hand immediately. “I don’t think this is quite how it sounds, at least from what I know of Waelden,” she stated, more to Ymma than I.
Ymma set down the tray “Honey? she asked. I shook my head. She did the same for Northgyth, then moved to take up the jar of arnica. Her eyes were still questioning, though she did not ask further.
“You locked the front door, Ymma? I don’t want us disturbed.”
The brown haired woman nodded, and then gestured for me to push my dress off my shoulder.
“I applied an arnica ointment of my own, within several minutes of it happening,” I said. “But that was early this morning.”
“Hum, it’s darkening a little. The bruise is coming out already.”
“And you and he were….sparing? He is trying to teach you how to fight with a sword I take it?” Northgyth spoke between sips of her tea.
“Aye.” I felt my face colouring with a mixture of emotions. I suspected Northgyth, and possibly Ymma, saw through them.
“Very well. I will not ask more in that regard, though I will say I understand why he does this. No man, no one, wants to think those they care for are defenseless. It may not be our way, in general, but all women should know how to use a sword, in my view.” Northgyth held my glance a little longer. “You are angry with him.”
“I am angry with myself, Northgyth.”
Ymma pulled the sleeve of my dress gently over my shoulder again. She lay a comforting hand on my other shoulder.
“You are angry with him!” Northgyth stated again.
Was I? I tried to look inward. “I am angry with myself. I am slow to learn.”
Both Northgyth and the now seated Ymma just looked at me.
“Alright,” I sighed, digging deep into what I was shutting away. “I am angry with Waelden too.”
Ymma let out a long held breath. “Men” she said. “They get it all wrong.” Then she chuckled and sipped at her tea.
I laughed too. It was a healing sound. “No. He hasn’t got it all wrong. But if I am to be any help to him in anything that faces us, I need to fight with him, to understand his moves and why he does what he does. It is no good me dancing off in a style of my….own…”
I looked up to see both women were nodding at me.
I sighed, and drank a little of the soothing beverage myself. Oddly enough my shoulder already felt as if a weight had been lifted from it.
“He shouldn’t have kicked me when I was on my knees. I was no threat.”
“Were you perhaps, trying to knock his legs from under him, dear?” Still that neutral expression from Northgyth. She was not judging, just making a point. A point she could not have known about.
“We were sparing,”
“Aye, Yllfa. So you were.”
Ymma was chuckling again. The drink was splashing about in her mug. “Maybe you would do better if you loved him less?”
“He doesn’t seem to have a problem with that.”
“Because his nightmare is seeing *you* die on the end of another’s sword, Yllfa. Do you not see?” Northgyth finally rose from her seat and began pacing back and forth. She seemed to be searching for an answer of her own.
“The problem is, you can fight well in your own way. You have killed before. Your way is not that of the Eorlingas, though it is still that of the Northern folk.”
She fell silent a moment.
“You know?” My heart pounded in my chest. It was only we three woman in the room, but I had never spoken openly to any of Isa, save Waelden.
“That you are different, yes, of course. And that your deepest worry is unfounded.”
Ymma looked up to her lady a moment, then her eyes also shone with understanding. “Ah, yes, I see her too.”
And I felt strange, almost as I was drowning way out of my depth. Something in me shifted. I knew that feeling.
“Shuussh,” Northgyth raised a hand, her voice was calm. “There is no need for that here. We are all friends. And I see also part of your problem is she will never harm Waelden. She does not understand you fighting with him.”
Ymma had moved, sinking to her knees on the floor before me. She drew my hands together, enclosing them gently in her own.
“So,” Nothgyth continued, “You train for understandable reason. You want to fight like Waelden does, to compliment him, to act as one. Yet your inner spirit cannot recognise him as an enemy. It is for you to decide of course, but perhaps train with him in any way that doesn’t involve face to face battle? A full grown wolf does not turn on her mate, does she. But play fighting and training...they are quite acceptable.”
I froze. She knew I was a wolf. Ymma’s larger hands tightened comfortingly about mine. “Work with him, dear. He is not the enemy.”
“I...I…..I do not know what to say.”
“Or work alone. That is the natural way for you, I suspect. But I am not sure you will find any joy on that path. Death..aye...you will be able to kill, but that path may not end up as you expect”
It was almost too much. To have heard half rumours, half family history from my grandmama had been one thing. To know I had slain a goblin and a warg was harder. To know Waelden understood as much as he was able, was a reassurance. But this open acknowledgement was almost too much.
“I came to ask if I may have use of the lower floor next door. To set it up as an apothecary,” the words tumbled out.
“Of course,” said Northgyth. “I was hoping for that.”
We had more tea, a blackberry tisane next, and some of Ymma’s cakes. It was a very civilized afternoon. Northgyth has quite happy with me using her room to store and dry herbs, and to make up some simples. She would be happy if I used the place to see any clients.
“I have served in some capacity as a healer here,” She clarified. “Though it is not my foremost calling. I think it will be good to have a herbalist in Bancross, rather than folk having to send out to Edoras.”
Civilised. Cultured. It was an afternoon almost typical of certain women of the Mark.
Apart from the talk about the wolf.
Apart from the regal lady, shining with silvered moonlight from her hair and garb, and the slightly podgy bear I caught glance of as I shut the door on my way out.
