"There are no more jars of peaches, my lord. I'm sorry." Deirdre explained to the Master as he leaned too close for her liking over her goods.
"Sorry? Oh, that won't do at all… but you would." With greasy hair and a similar look in his eye, the Master of her poor town took the woman's arm and ignored her protest. "My, still so young and firm for having mothered a whelp. Eric certainly took good care of you." He grinned at her shiver when he pressed to smell her hair. "And I'm going to take good care of you, too."
"This lady can look after herself without your business." An authoritative voice interrupted the unpleasant exchange enough so that Deirdre quickly released herself and turned back to her wares. Bard searched her face to see if she were all right and, once satisfied, returned his hard look to the Master.
"This lady can look after quite a lot of things, apparently." The uncouth man sniffed at the bargeman. "Does she do a good job for you, Bard?" With innuendo dripping from every word, his eyes lighted lewdly upon the woman once more.
Bard took a hasty step close to the man and squared his shoulders in a pose of threat. "You would do well not to lay your filthy hands on something without stain, Master." His words effected in the man's seething retreat at length, and Bard watched him go until his fists released enough to calm. A woman's hand on his arm relaxed him further and with a sigh he looked at Deirdre.
"You've had a long day's work, up before the sun. Will you come in for something to eat?" Kind and tactful, the young woman had already got over her affront and was showing him generosity.
Muscles taut in her defense now eased, he nodded and smiled slightly. Though his concern for her was not yet relieved, their discussion would turn to that in due course, as it always did. "And how do you know I've been working so long?" Following her behind the baskets of groceries and into the small house, his nose was met with the delicious smell of a pot lid opened and a loaf of bread cooling on the table.
Deirdre stood with lid poised in air and a lithe, but weathered hand stirring the supper expertly. "Tilda came to gather your vittles for the week and told me you'd gone so early this morning. She worries for her Da almost as much as Sigrid does, you know." Her blue eyes cut to him knowingly.
"It is good to be worried for, when I worry so much for them. I had another job today that would bring in a bit more than normal, and it needed delivering by mid-morning. I did my regular route after that." He explained as he washed his hands in the basin and rubbed the back of his neck with a grunt. "The extra will help with material for the girls to make their winter clothes, and Bain's."
"You're a good Da, Bard. Let someone take care of you for a bit, and I'll be satisfied." A bowl of stewed meat with fresh vegetables and bread was placed before him, but what he appreciated more was the small, strong hand that massaged his shoulder. The two shared a look of compassion before she moved away to cover the meat and bring some butter out of the icebox.
"Relic still asleep?" The man asked around bites of food and watched her butter a crusted end piece of the loaf.
"Aye, at night he's been up with his little terrors and keeping Momma from her only good rest. But he's been taking his good two naps during the day, so I must be content." They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes until Deirdre had finished her piece and sat staring at nothing until she looked at Bard. "Thank you."
It was clear what this gratitude stemmed from and the man glanced down before looking at her with furrowed brow and giving a nod. Deirdre took a shaky breath and smiled weakly to compensate for his deepening frown. She was not a hard lass to read when it came to it, and the ill advances of a powerful man were not something Deirdre could shrug off lightly. Bard wanted to protect her from harm and shame when her heart had already gone through the kind of pain and loss that no one should bear.
As she recovered herself, the toddling noises of a little boy came to their attention and soon Deirdre had her arms full of a curly-headed lad and his stuffed pet. Relic's hair was bright and blonde like his father's had been, but full of the vivacity of his mother's locks that curled even at the nape of her neck. "Relic, can you say good day to Bard?" Her voice softened when spoken against her son's lily-white brow, and the young one—not yet two winters old—looked over at the bargeman and cupped his fingers in a wave.
Chuckling at the tender sight, and thinking fondly of his own from when they were just as small, Bard mirrored his wave and reached over to clasp the tiny hand in his own for a moment. "And good day to you, master Relic." His response was to chortle and smile before turning into Momma's neck and hiding in her hair when Bard pursued and tickled his side to earn a bout of giggles. Deirdre laughed delightedly but looked away when a customer rang her chimes at the front porch. "Here, let me have him while you take care of your work." Bard's offer was accepted with a smile of thanks and a child in his lap. Relic's attention was soon drawn to the pockets of his coat he often plundered through, and Bard's eyes followed his mother as she tended to the women coming for vegetables and what fruit was left in her care.
Deirdre moved gracefully and was kind to all common folk who came to her, having shown herself an honest tradeswoman and helpful neighbor. Bard remembered well when his sweet Brynhilde had faded and the kids were sick of flu and fever, Deirdre and Eric had come to check on them and found him hard pressed to put food on the table and warmth in the hearth without leaving the little ones for too long. She had stayed all day tending the babies while he and Eric went for fuel and brought home venison and potatoes. Though grieved that it was necessary, Bard had returned the favor when Eric died two years ago, leaving her pregnant and alone. Providing for her as well as his own until she could manage herself, he or the children visited her every day until the baby was born, and then the girls often went to help her keep house as she nursed and recovered. Many times they had talked long after dinner and their kids falling asleep, weeping exhausted tears for their loved ones who could not now see their sons and daughters grow. It helped to share when each had been a friend to the other's spouse, remembering together.
In all his rifling through pockets, Relic had squirmed to straddle Bard and wrap his arms as far about the wide chest as he could, scratching his fingers and trying to tickled him back. Bard's laughter was more for his efforts than fruits and throwing his head back with a gasp he begged for rescue. With a squeal, the lad was lifted from his lap after a moment and Bard watched with a warm smile as Deirdre blew raspberries at her son's neck and shoulder. She played with him for a minute, holding him poised over the floor and acting as though she'd drop him to earn more laughter before setting him on his feet, a little dizzy from all the tickling. "Go and make up Momma's bed, darling."
The two shared an appreciative look and Bard could not help but wonder if the flush on her cheek was not merely caused by the bout of play with her boy. Quickly, the man stood and downed the juices of his meal before setting bowl and fork in the washbasin, making his way to leave. "Deirdre, thank you for the food. Did Tilda get the bag of rice I ordered?"
Following him out, the woman bent over for a moment and heaved a bag of rice a little bigger, even, than Relic in her arms. "No, I told her you or Bain could pick it up. That she ought not to."
"Perhaps you ought not to, either." A gentle admonishing in his tone, Bard took the sack from her and put it up on his shoulder easily enough. "Thank you."
"You're most welcome. And tell Bain I'm ready for those broken nets to mend when he wants to bring them over, I've finally got my needles back." Dusting her hands, Deirdre planted them at the small of her waist contentedly. He nodded and assured her he'd tell him, and then made off with his burden as she watched him go.
Bard clung to the bars of his cell and rocked them, reaching through and trying to tell the guards how serious things were about to get. When his own ruckus was out-called, he craned his neck as far as he could and soon saw the fighting figure of Deirdre being dragged along. Before being tossed into the cell with him, she managed to elbow one of them in the chin and knock his helm to clatter on the floor with a curse. Bard rushed to help pick her up off the hay-strewn planks and challenged the guards to curse her again with his own shouts.
"Where's Relic, what happened?" He took hold of her face to move her hair and reveal a nasty bruise developing on her cheekbone. "Did they strike you?" With barely controlled anger, Bard cast a look back at their bars.
"No, not the guards. Your dwarf friends were being followed by orcs, and they finally caught up. I was at your house when they came and we fought them off, that's how I got this." She winced even though his touch was gentle. "Two elves came, also. I didn't know what was going on, so I told the children to stay together, for Bain to protect them, and I went looking for you."
"It is my fault you're here."
Deirdre shook her head and laid a hand on his wrist. "They've been looking for a reason to take me, too, Bard. Master doesn't look kindly on those being kind." He made to say something, but they were both distracted when a rumble shook the structure and they heard a sound as though the mountain were growling.
Bard took her hand that had begun to tremble and clasped it. "They've done it. They woke the dragon just as I warned that they would, and no one will listen." He could see the fear in her eyes when she looked at him and he brought his other hand to her uninjured cheek. "I gave Bain the arrow for safe keeping. I will get us out of here and find a way to kill that beast… Deirdre—"
"I know." She gripped him tighter now. "I know you will. You'll protect us." Her eyes held frightened tears, but she looked at him with such conviction that it lent him strength.
"I'll protect you."