Good Morning, Little Ones!
Thank you to Mel and Jill!
.: Fjórtán :.
The house smells of woodsmoke and fresh baked bread. I have a sneeze in my nose, making it difficult to open my eyes. I squint, looking for any light I can look into to force it out, but the house is dim again.
I sit up on my fur-lined bed, groaning slightly at the aches in my fatigued body. No one else is in bed, and I take a minute to look around the house. Have I slept in?
I stand, wishing I could ask for a bathroom.
Rúna and Eydís are both standing in what I determine to be a kitchen area. Rúna is chopping herbs while Eydís appears to be churning butter.
"Good morning," I tell them.
"Morgin," Rúna responds, offering me a warm smile. I glance at Eydís who mutters as she pounds the butter. Rúna rolls her eyes, and I wonder if Eydís is complaining about me. Likely.
"Bathroom?" I ask, pointing to my stomach. Rúna pauses, pointing with a furrowed brow to the food in front of them. I shake my head, and then she seems to understand me.
"Koma á," she tells me.
I follow her outside, and I'm relieved to see that it's not that bright out yet. I couldn't have slept in too long.
Rúna leads me behind the long house. A few meters from the trees, there is a small half wall built. She motions over to it and I nod to her in thanks.
It smells awful and I don't have the coordination to squat while I take care of business. I realize too late that I've gone over ignorantly, and there is nothing I can identify as being even close to toilet paper. It's a miserable realization, and I struggle to clean myself off using leaves I'm able to reach that have fallen to the ground.
When I'm done, I feel pretty gross, but I'm also a little proud of myself for figuring it out. I've never been in a situation like this; I've never even thought of such a situation.
I find some water in a bucket, and being careful to pour it into my hands, I scrub as best I can. When I'm as clean as I'm going to get, I head back to the house.
The children are playing in the room, and I realize there are several chickens inside the house with them, running around. Rúna and Eydís are both still working, and I move to offer them silent help. Rúna is delighted, but Eydís ignores me.
I help them prepare some sort of porridge with oats and milk while they continue working on their own projects.
When the porridge is done, Rúna sends me outside, presumably to find the men. This makes me nervous, but I'm determined for things to go better today, so straightening my spine as much as I can, I stalk outside.
The sun is higher when I go outside, and I can hear the men working in a small building I take to be a barn adjacent to the house. The world smells clean here. I didn't know there could be air fresher than that of little Forks, Washington, but wherever I am, the air is near perfect.
It invigorates me, and I head toward the barn feeling more confident than I have since I stumbled into this strange world.
Inside the barn, Josurr and Arni are busy tending the animals. They stop when they hear me enter, and I clear my throat.
"Food." I mime eating and point to the house. They both nod and I glance around, looking for Edvard.
Josurr points outside and I nod to him, grateful.
Outside, I can hear the thunk of an axe slicing cleanly into wood. I find Edvard near a pile of perfectly split logs, his axe gripped expertly in his hands as he considers the log in front of him. I watch him silently, mesmerized by his focus. He shifts the log ever so slightly, then with a move so fast I hardly can see it, he brings his axe over his head and brings it down, splitting the log cleanly in half.
I gasp, stunned by his impressive display of force, and he turns in my direction.
In the morning light, his coppery hair is glinting brightly and his eyes are like jade chips. He's hypnotic, and I'm caught up, staring at him.
"Bella?" he asks, and his voice is deep and huskier than it was last night.
I swallow, blinking and looking down at my toes.
"Food," I whisper, not even miming the word. I hear him put his axe down and I look up.
He steps toward me, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side as he watches me.
"Hva er þat?"
I swallow hard. "I don't understand you." It's not entirely true though. His body language is open, questioning. For some reason, it makes me a little nervous to look at him.
I think once more about last night—about the sounds I heard—and my cheeks start to burn. He looks curious as I blush, and I tilt my head to cover my face with my hair.
He shocks me by reaching out and pulling my hair back. I'm frozen in place, my heart the only thing about me capable of moving as it pounds in my chest. He whispers something, his fingers slipping through my hair. My eyes dare to meet his for a fraction of a second, and it suddenly feels like too much. My chest feels tight and my breathing is shallow despite my racing heart.
I am torn between my desire for him to step away and step closer.
"Hverr eru þú, Smár Einn?"
His face is so serious, his eyes boring into me as if he is waiting for me to offer him the meaning of life. I don't know what he's saying but for some reason, the words, as well as the look in his eyes—searching and a touch wistful—fill me with a profound sadness. Perhaps it's his tenderness, but my heart suddenly aches in ways I don't understand.
I take a deep breath and step back from him. His fingers slip from my hair, and I reach up to wipe at the errant tears teetering on the edge of falling.
"Come eat," I whisper, miming it this time. Edvard nods, and I turn from him before he can say anything else.