My Sweet Thing
Chapter 09
Everybody loves you now
~.~
Elfhelm was grateful everything hadn't fallen down around his ears while he was gone. Although he was the lowest captain in the garrison, he was still captain and there were duties he had to perform; scheduling roations and making sure payroll had been dealt with. Thankfully, Gamhelm's wife, Aelwydd, had stepped in, taking over as only she could and quietly made the arrangements and distributed the salaries of the soldiers. Sure, they would understand he wasn't there to oversee it, but men needed to be paid. They had families, responsibilities.
So after going through the paperwork and thanking Béma for intelligent women, he decided a quick ale at the Three-Legged Rider was in order. He'd received word from his mother that she intended to feed them this night and he figured his little home was crawling with women. If he was lucky, he'd arrive back home about the time the dust settled down and the extra females were gone.
The bar was full, full of Riders and single men. The Three-Legged Rider was not the family tavern his mother ran. His mother was interested in feeding a man's stomach. His aunt, Earcongotæ, on the other hand, was more interested in feeding a man's libido. He no sooner sat down, before he had company.
The buxom blonde plopped herself in his lap, her laces loose and her breasts easily accessible. She handed him a tankard. "I hope and pray to Béma the rumors aren't true."
Elfhelm took the mug and drank gratefully from the froth. Paperwork was nasty work that left one with a dry mouth. "Ah, that's cold and I thank you! What rumor would you be talking about, Aedilthryd?"
She sidled in closer, more intimately, her blouse now completely open and her pert nipples openly displayed to him. "Why, that you got married."
"Really? Who told you that?" He reached across and pulled her blouse closed. A man could take just so much temptation.
"Oh, the garrison is just talking about it!" She put both arms around his neck and began to play with his ears. "And they say you married some nasty wench with a trash mouth from Druncenig Ende, of all places."
Elfhelm winced and Aedilthryd caught it. "I did not marry some nasty wench. I married Hæfern's niece, who also just happened to be the tavern owner's daughter." The girl's mouth dropped, flapping in shock. "And before you ask, yes, I do like her a lot." He set the empty stein down on the side table and stood up, with the girl still in his arms. "Gamling! Here! Take this!"
Gamling had just entered the tavern, looking for nourishment not found in a kitchen. "What?"
"Take her." He plopped the girl in the tall redhead's arms. "She needs an itch scratched and I'm in no mood or condition to do it."
Aedilthryd was giggling now and kissed the young man on the mouth. "I've missed you, too! Think you can handle me?"
Gamling's face lit up in a playful grin. "What? You think I won't be enough?"
"Oh," she dragged her finger around the neckline of his tunic. "Normally, yes you could, but you've been in the saddle and Elfhelm has been gone and doesn't want to play and I've been sooooo lonely. I'm liable to be just insatiable."
Gamling spun around, the whore still in his arms, searching the men at the bar. "Háma!"
Háma looked up from his cards. "Not now. I'm in the middle of a good hand."
The door was opening, several more Riders coming into the tavern. Gamling's smile now split into a huge, almost evil grin. "Théodred! Ho!"
"No, I'm not!" the king's son laughed. "You're holding the ho!"
Aedilthryd was giggling. "I am not a whore! I'm an honest working girl!" She found herself thrown in the air and as she landed, repositioned over Gamling's very wide shoulder, his hand possessively on her rear.
"Well, I plan to work you all night! Théodred! Come give me a hand!" He turned so the girl's backside was high in the air. "Look at this! You know you want some!"
Théodred was grinning. "Oh yeah." He smacked the wench on the rump, making her yelp. "I'll aid a fellow Rider in wearing this one out! Let me grab us a pitcher and up we'll go." The pitcher was already pulled and on the bar as the two men and woman thundered up the stairwell and down the hall, Aedilthryd squealing the whole way. The noise tamped down when her door shut.
"So, it's true?" A new, more mature voice was sitting next to the young captain. A refilled tankard replaced the empty one. Elfhelm picked it up and took a drink.
"Aye, Aunt Earcongotæ. It's true." Finally, he turned to look at the middle-aged woman who owned and operated the bar. "I've married Hæfern's niece, Lýðrest. Her father owns the tavern in Druncenig Ende.
"Mighty fast work, boy. How did this happen?"
Elfhelm made much of taking a long draw from the deep goblet. "She was in a bad, bad spot and I helped her out. Thing is, it was misconstrued and now I have a wife that I need to convince to be a wife."
Elfhelm stared long and hard into the cold fireplace across from him, knowing the woman next to him was scrutinizing his every movement and facial expression. "Sounds like Gamhelm and Aelwydd." Elfhelm nodded, never truly acknowledging his aunt. "Have you asked their advice?"
"Talked to Gamhelm."
There was a loud thump above them. Earcongotæ looked upwards at the ceiling. "That room will be bouncing all night. I'll have to see if that girl has tomorrow off. She might be worthless if that keeps up. If you talked to Gamhelm, you got good advice."
"I did. Gave her two moons to get used to the idea. Plan a ceremony. I even agreed to wear the flowers." He shuddered at that.
His aunt smacked him on the arm. "The flowers is the easy part, Elfhelm."
Elfhelm smiled. "So I've heard."
"In the meantime," the woman gestured to her bartender, who brought her a cold mug as well, "where are you sleeping? Please tell me you're not sleeping with your horse!"
Elfhelm raised the mug again, realizing he had reached the bottom of this one as well. "Oh no," he whispered with a satiric grin. "We're sleeping in the same bed."
"Ah!" His aunt smiled. "So there isn't much for her to get used to."
Elfhelm rose and set the mug on the table. "We're not doing anything. Just sharing the bed. She was clothed and in her shoes under the quilt and I was on top in my cloak. We spooned up in sleep. That's all that happened when we got caught."
The brothel owner's tankard stopped midway up. "And you're still wanting to make a go of it? No way to set her aside quietly?"
"No choice. Gamhelm said so. We were caught by her father and two serving girls." Earcongotæ nodded in understanding. "Earcongotæ?" She lifted her eyes in response. "Have you ever wondered what would have happened if Eni hadn't died and left you with three children? Why didn't you remarry?"
His mother's sister thought hard for a moment. "No man has ever made me feel like Eni did. And if he had lived," Eni had been a promising young captain, cut down in his prime in an orc attack on the Eastenmet, "I wouldn't be doing this. I would be in charge of a garrison. It's the same thing, really, you know. Not much difference between a garrison and a brothel. Just different…" there was another loud thump on the ceiling. "…stock. DAMN THEM! If they come through the floor, I'll take it out of all three of their hides!"
~~~…~~~
Lýðrest found herself stripped and in the tub in no time flat. Oils were poured in the water, a variety of scents rose in the steam. No sooner than she emmersed herself, the two women immediately set to unpacking her few things. Aelwydd had two cook pots, one boiling water for tea and the other with a wonderful smelling stew staying warm. Lýðrest slid lower into the tub as she realized that the few linens that were gifted to her were miniscule indeed. She was supposed to have something called a 'hope chest' in which she and her mother were supposed to have added to since her birth. Lýðrest was infuriated that these two women thought she might be lacking in any way. It wasn't like she planned on getting married ever! She was about to tell them such, when Elfhelm's mother pulled the last piece out of the last saddlebag. "Oh, Lýðrest! This is beautiful!" She turned to face the young woman in tub, holding up the delicate piece of lingerie. "He didn't tear this from you?" She nodded to Aelwydd. "I'm surprised it isn't in shreds!"
"I've not had a chance to wear it yet. We haven't…" her voice trailed off.
Both women looked at each other. "Where," Aelwydd asked gently, "has he been sleeping?"
"With me!" she cried. "And before you start about how painful it is for him, I know. But he gave me two moons and by Béma, I'm taking two moons!" Finally, the deluge of tears began, tears Lýðrest had denied herself for years. "I didn't fekking want to get married! I didn't fekking plan to get married! I certainly didn't fekking plan to get married to someone who lived so fekking far away from my da!"
Somewhere in the midst of her tears, she realized water was being poured over her head and strong, but gentle hands wove soap through the long locks. She continued to cry while her hair was rinsed and then strong hands kneaded her shoulders. "Poor thing. Tired. Exhausted. Away from everything that's normal in your eyes. Hard to transplant a rose when it's just been yanked haphazardly from the ground and shoved in new dirt without any nourishment or aid. Here, sweetling. Drink this."
Lýðrest found a steaming cup of something placed in front of her. Taking it with the tips of her fingers so as not to get burned, she blew in the top. "This has comfrey and willow bark. I can smell it. And I'm no delicate rose!"
"Aye," Aelwydd said behind her. "You're hurting and this will help your aches and pains and just so you know, roses aren't delicate. They are rather hardy and grow in strange places. They have thorns for a reason, to cling, to climb towards the sunshine, but one does have to take care of them and treat them with great respect."
"Here," Hereswið sat next to her, trencher in hand. "Give me the cup." Lýðrest obediently handed it over and took the trencher, the smell of the hardy stew making her mouth water. "Eat up and don't worry about manners, today. We'll drum that into you later." The stew was delicious, much better than the dried tack and wild game the men charred on the fire on their trip back from Druncenig Ende. Lýðrest concentrated on the food in her hand, vaguely listening as the two women worked behind her, not caring they went through her medicine bag, nodding in agreement at her obvious knowledge.
"You sewed up my son and aided in his healing." Hereswið was sitting next to her again, her eyes wet with unshed tears. "Gauwyn says you saved his life, bathing him and then sewing him up and making poultices and teas to help him and making sure he came home."
Lýðrest's body was relaxing, the food and the tea doing their job on her body. "There were three I tended to. He was the worst." She looked over to her mother-in-law, her eyes heavy. She handed the now empty trencher back to the woman. "I couldn't let him die in the bed. Not under my da's roof." Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, the fire in it still evident. "Not on my watch." She looked up to see tears freely flowing down the woman's face. "Please don't cry."
"I'm happy. You saved my youngest son's life. I love you already as if you were my own." She nodded once, really a dip, before standing up.
Aelwydd had made up the bed while Hereswið bonded with her new daughter-in-law, using the linens Lýðrest brought with her and spreading the thin quilt left at the foot. The woman was making note of the things she saw the cottage was going to need: cook pots, mugs, eating utensils, a wardrobe, pillows and a new quilt. The mattress needed restuffed and unless Elfhelm had forgotten a saddlebag or two, his bride needed clothing and needed clothing bad. She owned little more than what she wore. Tenderly, the woman put the filmy piece of lingerie in the trunk at the foot of the bed and laid out one of the girl's nightgowns, noting it was thin and over-worn as well. She shook her head. What was her father thinking, not keeping up with his daughter's needs? Didn't he have a clue? Perhaps he had done the best he could by her and maybe Elfhelm was her meal out of whatever purgatory she hailed from. If that was the case, she didn't blame the girl's da one bit for forcing this marriage. As it were, they would be sewing for days, but it needed to be done.
Suddenly, the cottage was diffused with light, Elfhelm stepping into the home. Lýðrest was more asleep than awake in the cooling water and with her back to the door, didn't seem to notice. Quickly, his mother made her way to him. "Go to the house," she whispered, "and have your sisters give you a few big towels. Your home and bride," she gently admonished, "are sadly lacking the necessities and niceties."
"Neither one of us planned-"
"I know." She shoved him out the door. "We'll fix that, but it might take a few weeks. Go get the towels and I'll have dinner hot for you when you return." She pulled the door gently to, before going to the fire and moving the hook with the stew back over the low fire.
Elfhelm returned soon enough, in time to watch his mother sit behind his wife, still in the tub, brushing out her damp, long hair. Unbound, it was glorious and truth was, he hadn't seen it in anything but a braid, long and thick down her back. With a whispered finger to his lips, he sent them out, before sitting down behind her and finishing the job. Gently, he platted it, much like he did his horse's tail, noticed and cursing himself for the stiffness obvious in her shoulders and back. Tenderly, he caressed the stiffened knots so visible, hearing her sigh in relief as he worked the knots out. She didn't seem aware of his presence, much less that they were alone. He allowed her to lay languid in the tub, while he spooned up and ate the stew his mother left. The two women were adroit in running the tavern as well as the garrison and he had no doubt they would teach the runnings of such well to his wife.
He just needed to teach her to be a wife and from his observations of his da and mother as well as from his Marshal and his wife, the best way to teach was to show compassion, tenderness and to lead with rewards and a calm hand. Right now, Lýðrest needed all of that and badly. When he finished with his stew, he set the bowl on the table and pulling the quilt back from the bed, he picked up the towel he retrieved from his mother's.
"Stand up, léoflic." Lýðrest did such, making no remark that the command came from her husband, not her mother-in-law or the Marshal's wife. Elfhelm forced himself not to gaze on her, the slenderness of her curves, the beauty of her. Wrapping her up in the towel, he lifted her from the tub, and carryied her to the bed. He set her down lovingly and dried her off, before tossing the towel aside and drawing the linen nightshift over her. "Up you go." Lýðrest groaned as she climbed into the high bed and scooted over to the wall. He threw the quilt over her and blew out the lamp that was next to the bed.
Realizing there was a mess, he put the dishes and the now empty pot on the sideboard, before stoking the fire to a roar. He then began the long, arduous process of emptying the tub, tossing the water out of the door bucket by bucket. His mother lamented why men used the river. She had never had to empty a tub, much less fill it! The river, while cold, was more convenient! Either way, he figured now that he had a wife, he better get used to having a tub. Which meant, he needed to acquire a tub. He had a feeling the rainy day he had been saving for had come with the ferocity of a summer storm and his saved meager silver was probably getting ready to dry up.
Which reminded him; whose tub was this? He didn't have a tub…
He shook his head as he pulled the drop bar on the door and closed the windows, save one. He didn't worry about thieves or miscreants crawling through the window. Only a crazy man would attempt mischief in a captain's quarters in the garrison. It was spring and while the night was cool, it was a welcome contrast to the fire in the hearth. Quietly, he crept to his bed, stripping off down to his small clothes and laying his clothing neatly on the chest. He crawled in the bed with his wife, curling up and spooning her to him.
Somewhere, deep in the back of her sleeping soul, Lýðrest realized her husband had put her to bed and when the low rumble began in her ear as he pulled her into the protective cocoon of his embrace, she blissfully fell deeper into sleep.
tbc
A/N I want to thank everyone for their kind reviews. It is most appreciated. For those here in the States, hug a soldier today.
