((Notes: This story was written for amusement at Christmas. It is IC in the form of visions. It is a spoof of, and inspired by A Christmas Carol‘ by Charles Dickens, and just as much by The Muppet Christmas Carol by Jerry Juhl and directed by Brian Henson .
The story contains some references to the earlier story, An All-Hallows Eve Dream
Written in collaboration by the players of Waelden and Yllfa. The banner and screenshots for all parts of the story were taken and edited by the player of Waelden ))
Hild turned in her bed, throwing off her blanket as a sudden warmth flooded her room.
Where was she? Was she home, or someplace else? The room felt familiar, at least. The different smells, the cold air, the softness of her bed... Yes, she was indeed home… the smell of the woolen blanket reminded her of that, at long last.
The dream or vision of her early life came back to her. Apple pie it was most certainly not. She sat up in bed, a hand running through her auburn-blonde hair as she tried to make sense of it all. She had punched Saeunn, her long-term tormentor this time? Wigthegn had rescued her… and rescued her doll, Brona, from the well? Was that right?
With a slight but growing confusion, she pondered her deeper thoughts, those old emotions she had long ago learned to keep hidden within her heart and mind. Was she actually safe from others, and was she worth keeping safe? Were their words, that she was nothing, the cold and hard truth? But she could not feel that cloud of shame she usually had hanging over her head when she recalled her past? What had changed, she wondered?
Was there truly nothing to be ashamed of now?
Hild sighed with confusion still clouding her mind, as she reached for the bottle of mead on the floor. It was dry and empty, not a drop left on the bottom. Perhaps it had been a mead induced dream then? Strong spirits - in more ways than one - do have that kind of effect on the mind… but… she sighed and dropped the empty bottle to the floor again.
But there was light as well as warmth coming from under her bedroom door. It should just be the dark of the landing, unless Brona was playing about with a candle or lantern. And why was it warm? The kitchen fire should have been smoored down for the night, and all wood burned to ash.
Of a sudden she heard merry singing, faint but growing louder… a female voice of rare beauty that she should have remembered? Mearhe was it? It sounded like Mearhe at least. There were other voices, chatting and laughing from what sounded like a short distance away. Then she heard Yllfa’s voice, one she definitely recognized…
“Come on Hild, join us all. You and Brona could have been with us this night, had you wanted to.” The voice was warm and inviting, caring and welcoming.
The second of three spirits? Had Fengel been right after all? After Ethel, it was Yllfa of course. And then doubtlessly Waelden, or a massive black goat with eyes glowing red, or something else like that. Oh, will this never end, she thought.
And none of it was a dream! It was all real to her, in that moment.
But Fengel had said this was for her own good, after all. Fine, so be it then! Spirits be damned, but Hild was more ready this time. She was curious indeed, after seeing herself as a child with Ethel’s help. She drew on a green over-gown from her cabinet, put on her slippers again, and she took up her shawl to hastily drape it around her shoulders for a bit of warmth. With a quick run of a hand through her now fully loosened hair, she approached the door, pushing it open.
“Oh, well met!” There was Ethel again, solid as any normal person, not addressing her but a... Dwarf? Here? What? Where were they? Both stood near her door, but did not seem to see it, nor her. The room wasn’t familiar to her, either. It certainly wasn’t the Roaring Dragon.
In fact the room was full of folk, many of which she had never seen before. They were all real, all solid as she… had been, before she carefully entered the room. Looking down at herself, Hild saw a misty-person again. She wasn’t really there, but her spirit was. Equally spirit-like in nature was the smiling Yllfa, the only one in the room who acknowledged her. Yllfa held out her arms to give Hild a welcoming hug and a friendly pat on the shoulder.
Hild wasn’t quite ready to be hugged by a ghost Yllfa. It felt wrong somehow, much like being embraced by the mist on a chilly morning, but it still felt… warm? She had no words in her mind to describe what she felt, and Yllfa noticed her reluctance.
“Maybe later then?” said Yllfa. “Let me show you around first.”
So Hild looked again, and this time she felt as well as saw what the room contained. It was a wooden walled cabin, with a high ceiling. A fire blazed in the hearth while a log festooned with candles lay close by. There was a very large fir tree, decorated with ribbons and lights, and some seating spread out. She recognised some folk, though not all gathered there; Brynleigh, the new stable owner… aye, and Gamferth, tall and bearded. There was a young fair haired man playing music, quite an attractive young man at that. Hild’s eyes lingered on him a moment until ghost Yllfa’s polite cough brought her back to what she had come for.
“This is one way of celebrating Midwinter eve, Hild. There are many others, as many as there are families. But in all cases, it is meant to be a time of joy, of gathering with others to celebrate getting through the darkness and, although there will be darkness for some time still, the light is returning. The sun is with us again. Hope is with us again.”
“Folk celebrate in the Dragon,” Hild retorted a touch defensively. She had seen there was good and filling food, and good quality beer and mead available for all. So she had overlooked the club meeting tonight, but that was the first time she had ever disappointed her clients. Aye, the ride from their villages had been unnecessary, but the men had gone away full of food and ale, and for free at that. There was always the next session for them to… prove.. themselves, should they wish?
Just for an instant, Hild’s thought snapped away from the inviting tavern to a succession of bleeding and broken faces and bodies scattered on the red stone floor. ‘But no… no… they *wanted* that,’ she came to her own defense. ‘They paid good coin to beat each other into…’
“I am not saying they don’t have good fun there, nor friendship and belonging.” Spirit Yllfa continued, taking Hild’s arm in a friendly manner. “Because that’s really what festivals are about, dear Hild. Can you not feel the joy in this room? The warmth and love and… aye, a small amount of sorrow I grant. But it is like adding wood to the fire you see, we add love and we all grow stronger and brighter.”
‘We add love’, Hild thought dryly, as she ‘envisioned’ a man with his shoulder dislocated, his knuckles red and raw, his nose broken and blood streaming through his hair. Three gold he had given her for such a privilege, and for the chance to get it back in double.
“Come, take a wander?” Yllfa stretched out a small hand to lightly take hold of Hild’s. She did not resist. As she moved from the door into the centre of the room she could see faces better and clearer. There was a smell of roast meat close by. Roast Boar? Aye, she knew that smell all too well. And also fruit, a spiced wine or cordial, and venison? It was all familiar fragrances to one who cooked for a living, yet somehow it was deeper, richer here than it ever was in her kitchen.
She drew a little closer to the good looking youth. She saw him wink over at.. Ethel? Hah! But she also saw admiration and kindness in his eyes.
There were others, dancing close together as good friends or neighbours… a Dwarf… standing up to recite a poem, a very small child sized person… man, who was dancing merrily by the tree, another man, a tall stranger enjoying a pipe, Ethel enjoying a pi…. Hild stirred for a moment.
“Oi, where did you get that,” Walden’s voice cut through the air in a surprised rather than angry manner as he noticed Ethel’s pipe.
Ethel laughed with good humour and took a deep inhale of the pipe, and the smoke made her voice darker, almost gruffer as she wasn’t used to it. “I just borrowed one of yours. Like father like daughter eh?”
Hild observed the exchange and banter between Waelden and his daughter with a dry chuckle. She liked it. She liked the delicate edge they trod on, and yet there was a deep respect and love between father and daughter. If only she had something similar with Brona? In fact Hild was beginning to like being in that room with such interesting folk. She began to tap a foot in time with the music played. The tunes were both catchy and filled with joy and mirth.
The red-garbed ghost Yllfa took a step back, and indicated a solid, green gowned version of herself, moving across the room to hug Ethel as if she were her own child. Ethel put down her pipe, coughing and barking as she explained she didn’t like it that much after all, and gave Yllfa a hug as if she were her own mama.
Hild suddenly stopped her foot tapping, recognising something. “You are the one who is sad? The ‘you’ in the room is sad?”
The spirit nodded once, and looked on as her physical self moved over to stand close beside Waelden. He smiled and wrapped a welcoming arm around her shoulders in a loving embrace.
“I was sad” she said. “Because I knew that something was ... missing in that gathering, and it weighed on another’s heart. But the love of my man and our daughter has overcome that. I still care, but my pain has been warmed away by the love we share. Sadness is not always a bad thing, but we must try not to let it consume us, or else we’ll never crawl out of that dark abyss in one piece.”
Nodding slowly, Hild began to understand. Sadness for another’s pain. That was interesting, and so full of meaning. She thought for a moment about her husband, the man she still loved somewhere deep inside, even if he was… well… him.
But spirit Yllfa had not finished just yet. “When we first met you, in the Roaring Dragon, you looked at Waelden in a strange way. For a moment I thought you were making plans for him. And then as I watched your swift loss of interest, I wondered.... Had he been ten years younger, had he been the sort spoiling for a fight, it would have been different, aye?”
Hild’s jaw dropped momentarily. ‘I... I... didn’t mean anything by it."
“You watch men fight each other and draw blood for cold, hard coin. Some will always want to fight for coin, or to test themselves. Such is life. But you see them inflict terrible damage at times, and just stand by. You don’t call a halt. You don’t offer anything to ease their pain, save a draught of ale, or a brandy. Do you hate those men so much, or enjoy seeing them bloodied and bruised? Run a business by all means, but treat your customers as people, not sides of meat.”
Again the red-garbed spirit indicated her solid self by a nod of her head. That Yllfa was snuggled against Waelden, swaying with him to the music as if they were one. Every now and then she would kiss him, or he her with deep affection… a sense of belonging, a pair for the ages. For once Ethel was not making comments on her elders, as she was busy winking back at the fair haired musician, and dancing together with Brynleigh while doing so. The girl looked so happy and carefree, and Hild’s thoughts wandered for a moment to her own daughter again, Brona who worked so hard to please her demanding mother.
“I never did anything to Waelden, in fact… he almost fed me to a mons… oh.” Hild focused again on Yllfa’s words, her protest halted as she wondered what the spirit would think of Waldez… it wasn’t worth the effort of trying to explain that to her. It was all just too strange a dream, if it was even that?
Spirit Yllfa looked a little disappointed. “No. Because you did not think he would earn you money. I tell you this, had you lured him to your ‘business’, and with that broken or damaged him in body, you would also have damaged two women who love him dearly. Both Ethel and I would have been devastated. You have done that to other families, though you seem not to care much for their pain. One reason I respect Waelden so much is he knows when to fight… and believe me, he can fight… but he also knows when to walk away, when a fight is not needed. He would always walk away from what you would offer. Would that other men did the same.”
“There are fights at the garrison,” Hild tried to explain, though she didn’t sound convinced of her argument.
“Thilwend, and now Denholm break those up, and discipline the men involved.” Yllfa replied.
“Men ride in from the other villages…”
“Because you put it about you will turn a blind eye. Let the other villages hold such... ’clubs’ if the need be so great for men to beat each other to oblivion. Hild, is this no small matter to you? You make good money from the Roaring Dragon. Do you truly need the extra coin from mismanaged fights?”
Finally Hild hung her head. She wanted merriment in her own heart. She wanted closeness with friends, with her daughter… and with her man?
“Paega… my husband; the idea was his, not mine. And aye, he wanted the coin. At first I found it hard to act the hostess, but then, when he started staying away longer and longer, I found I did want the money more and more. I wanted to be safe, and he offered none of that to me. He rarely paid for supplies even.” With a sigh, it seemed Hild breathed out a lot of held back resentment. “He was a gambler, you see. Money came and went. And above all, I didn’t want to be poor and useless. After a few years I came to see his face in the losers. ‘Serves you right’ I would think. But I knew. Deep inside. Oh Yllfa… I wanted my dreams. Now there is no chance for me to have a life like yours, no matter how much I may want it.”
“You think not?” The spirit hugged the auburn haired woman then, and transmitted such a warmth to her that Hild felt her face begin to glow. “Respect, trust, kindness - start with them and see what happens? I have not always been as I am now. I have known pain and hardship too. Neither can I say what tomorrow holds, for another… dear spirit will show you that. I only know it is never too late to change.” With that it seemed Yllfa and the room grew fainter… smaller… as if Hild was being whisked through a tunnel of wood. “Yllfa?” she cried, as the sense of warmth dissolved, to be replaced by a feeling of sitting beside a log fire with warm feet while every other thing felt cold.
“How is our guest doing?” said Sergeant Thilwend in a soft voice as she popped her head round the heavy door of the armoury. The tall, muscular woman with the scarred face had kind eyes this night, and not that stern guard-on-duty face she usually pulled.
“Not so bad, cousin,” Heartha replied equally quietly. “Heard placed her near the fire, and she has warmed up.”
Both the Master Smith and her assistant were sitting on the stone-laid floor, holding small mugs of beer in their hands, and had been about to toast each other’s health for midwinter when they were interrupted.
Hild was also interrupted as the red-robed Yllfa appeared next to her, seemingly out of nowhere.
“Sadly, not all celebrations are as merry as the one in Mearhe’s cabin, but most folk do their best. It is a time of goodwill where possible. We Eorlingas are a wary folk, but we are also hospitable and generous, are we not?” Yllfa nodded in the direction of the two smiths, then raised a hand and pointed at the Sergeant, who held a bundle in her hands.
“I know it’s not much, but it’s what you make of a feast that counts,” the auburn haired Thilwend said, as she held forward a cloth covered parcel. “The guards have plenty more in the barracks, and I have already eaten more than enough. This won’t be missed by anyone here, but hopefully give some joy and a fuller belly for the more needing tonight.”
Reaching up, the equally auburn haired Heartha took the parcel and unwrapped it carefully. It contained several slices of thick cut ham, and a little venison. There was a small but fresh loaf of bread included, and a couple of winter apples. A small and honest meal for most, but a bountiful feast for those who had nothing.
The ‘Smiths’ looked up, both with thanks and understanding in their eyes.
“Thank you for supper, Thilwend,” Heartha spoke levelly. “We will make sure old Agnes has her well-earned fill should she wake, and a good breakfast at that from my own storage. I will fetch her one of my warmest robes in the morning, although it will be far too large. She is little but skin and bone now, poor woman.”
Heard lowered his fair head a moment. ”I feel so bad.”, he said with a trembling lip as his eyes lingered on the older, sleeping woman in the warm hay. “I didn’t realise Agnes was in so bad a state. Since she lost her son, she rarely comes down from her cabin any more.”
Patting the man reassuringly on the shoulder, Heartha wrapped the food again and placed it on the floor for a moment. “We are all guilty of neglect here. I knew she wasn’t around often, but I didn’t check on her either. And the likes of you and I knew her and her family. I will be keeping a close eye on her in future. She’ll never go hungry again, if I can help it.”
“And Hildfrith threw her out of the Dragon, you said?” Thilwend asked. “Why? She knows her! She knows she isn’t a beggar.”
“Hild has a kind heart, but she seems to have buried it deep in some sort of pursuit of profit of late.” Turning to look at the bundle of rags, now covered with a thick blanket, that lay on straw near the lit forge, Heard sighed. “I will be visiting Agnes every few days from now on. Fate took her husband and son, well I can at least try and give her a son of sorts back, in what little way I can offer.”
Heartha nodded slowly and followed his gaze. “I will come with you as you go.”, she said.
Hild had watched as things unfolded. She looked from the ‘red’ cousins to the straw haired assistant smith, to the bundle, and back again.
“I do have a kind heart,” she whispered, but now she felt a new kind of shame over what she had seen, and what the others had said. Her skin may have been ‘ghostly’ now, but she could still feel normally, and a heated blushing of her cheeks betrayed her shame and understanding of what she had done by turning old, penniless Agnes away.
“Aye, you do,” Yllfa confirmed. “But you have done such a good job of burying it that few would know. Turning that old woman away was poorly done.”
They sat, unseen, near the fire for a short while longer. Thilwend went about her duties upstairs, but the two Smiths tended to their guest as if she were their own grandmama. And in doing so their own friendship grew and prospered. They smiled and laughed as they recalled and shared fond memories of old Agnes from years back, to keep them in good spirits. Aye, she was a good woman, and deserved so much better than this. They’d see that she’d never be treated like this again.
“Come” said Yllfa, finally rising to her feet. “Time passes faster than any of us would like, and there is just one more thing I would have you see before my time is up here.“
The tunnel of wood was suddenly back before her eyes and feet… or was it wood? Hild thought that now it was row after row of snow-covered firs and other trees. And she was in the Roaring Dragon again, finally a place she knew well. A sad eyed Yllfa was standing a little behind her.
“Midwinter is a time for merriment and love and care for all Eorlingas of good heart. Save, some are neglected and forgotten. Agnes will not be so ill used again. Would that I could say the same for the poor one who lies on your kitchen floor.”
The spirit Yllfa had a few tears on her cheek as she gestured behind the serving bar.
With a gulp, Hild went through the doorway to her kitchen. She knew already what she would find, though she hoped it wouldn’t be.
But there she was, asleep on the stone floor. Her pale face was drawn and thin, her eyes dark-rimmed with exhaustion. She had no covering except the dress she wore, and her knees were drawn up to her chest.
“Brona?” Hild whispered quietly, with a tear in her eye.
“Next you will be telling me none of my line will live long,” entoned Yllfa solemnly.
Hild looked up, her face aghast. “I am not Fengel! Surely I have not doomed my Brona simply by turning Agnes away?!”
Yllfa shook her head. “No. But you are close to dooming her by lack of love.”
Hild turned back to her daughter, taking off her own shawl and wrapping it around the prone form. Brona lay there nearly lifeless, and her hands were as pale and cold as her face. The girl hardly breathed. “Oh Bema help me, she is freezing cold… help me, Yllfa… help me warm her. Brona… don’t…” Hild felt her eyes watering, and her breath quickened as she desperately tried to caress and warm her neglected, freezing daughter - her little Brona.
