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OOM: Gotland, late winter
Feb. 8th, 2011 10:53 pmIt is sunny when Teja steps through his door today, into the snow that covers the slopes of his barrow-hill. It is wet snow, and as he approaches the house (again not leaving tracks in the snow), water is dripping off the eaves on the sun-side.
A boy and a girl (Alaric and Rauthgundis, Teja knows their names to be) are walking out of the door as he comes close, the boy sulking and the girl prodding him, and they pass within inches of him without taking any notice.
There is are noises inside the house, crying babies, and something rather more awful.
They're the twin girls, bawling in unison, and their father, Adalgoth, trying to tune an utterly out-of-tune harp.
Men may have made more beautiful music on random iron garden fences -- that bad a way is that poor instrument in.
Nobody else is in there, in the entire long house; all else have fled the noise, it seems.
The twins, when they see him, stop crying and look at him solemnly; and Adalgoth's hands still on the harp strings as he looks up to see what quietened his children.
"Are you here?" he whispers into the suddenly silent house.
"I am," Teja says, and sits beside him. Adalgoth looks at him, right at him, as if he could feel what he said, and guess where he sits.
"What befell your harp?" Teja asks.
"Snow fell on it from the roof, and it was lost for awhile, only appearing again with today's thaw," Adalgoth says. "One knows not who took it out, and I would not punish all the children until one confesses. I should, though, should I?"
He looks at Teja, who was always so stark and stern.
"You should not," Teja says. "They are but children; and if it is one of the older ones, honour and bad conscience will soon press it to confess on their own. What ails your babes, to make them cry that badly?"
"I know not," Adalgoth says. "They cry more than any of the others did, lately; and when one starts, the other will join in. Gotho is worried doubly: - for them, and for robbing all here of their night's sleep, night after night. I said I would watch them, so she may have a moment's quietness in the baking house."
One of the twins starts making uneasy noises again, and Teja gets up to look at her, and stroke the soft down on her head.
She quietens, looking at him in bemusement; and Teja wonders what it is that she sees, to dazzle her so.
"I shall ask the healer that works in the place serving as my afterlife, whether he may come here, or I may bring them, to find out what ails them, and cure them of it," Teja says. "And look at all the other things healers look at so babes grow up well. They have made quite an art of it."
"Will you come more often now?" Adalgoth asks. "And without dire need calling for you?"
"Yes," Teja says.
Then, the red cat slips in through the door, followed by chattering voices, and Teja knows it is time to leave.
Ghosting past Gotho and Liuta, re-entering into unexpected quiet, he returns into the sunlight, and to his barrow-hill, knowing he will be back.-
A boy and a girl (Alaric and Rauthgundis, Teja knows their names to be) are walking out of the door as he comes close, the boy sulking and the girl prodding him, and they pass within inches of him without taking any notice.
There is are noises inside the house, crying babies, and something rather more awful.
They're the twin girls, bawling in unison, and their father, Adalgoth, trying to tune an utterly out-of-tune harp.
Men may have made more beautiful music on random iron garden fences -- that bad a way is that poor instrument in.
Nobody else is in there, in the entire long house; all else have fled the noise, it seems.
The twins, when they see him, stop crying and look at him solemnly; and Adalgoth's hands still on the harp strings as he looks up to see what quietened his children.
"Are you here?" he whispers into the suddenly silent house.
"I am," Teja says, and sits beside him. Adalgoth looks at him, right at him, as if he could feel what he said, and guess where he sits.
"What befell your harp?" Teja asks.
"Snow fell on it from the roof, and it was lost for awhile, only appearing again with today's thaw," Adalgoth says. "One knows not who took it out, and I would not punish all the children until one confesses. I should, though, should I?"
He looks at Teja, who was always so stark and stern.
"You should not," Teja says. "They are but children; and if it is one of the older ones, honour and bad conscience will soon press it to confess on their own. What ails your babes, to make them cry that badly?"
"I know not," Adalgoth says. "They cry more than any of the others did, lately; and when one starts, the other will join in. Gotho is worried doubly: - for them, and for robbing all here of their night's sleep, night after night. I said I would watch them, so she may have a moment's quietness in the baking house."
One of the twins starts making uneasy noises again, and Teja gets up to look at her, and stroke the soft down on her head.
She quietens, looking at him in bemusement; and Teja wonders what it is that she sees, to dazzle her so.
"I shall ask the healer that works in the place serving as my afterlife, whether he may come here, or I may bring them, to find out what ails them, and cure them of it," Teja says. "And look at all the other things healers look at so babes grow up well. They have made quite an art of it."
"Will you come more often now?" Adalgoth asks. "And without dire need calling for you?"
"Yes," Teja says.
Then, the red cat slips in through the door, followed by chattering voices, and Teja knows it is time to leave.
Ghosting past Gotho and Liuta, re-entering into unexpected quiet, he returns into the sunlight, and to his barrow-hill, knowing he will be back.-