Good morning Smár Einn!

Thank you to Mel and Jill!

.: Þrír Tigir ok Ein :.

Saying goodbye to Edvard and his family is bittersweet. On the one hand, I am one step closer to getting to choose a life with them, but I still must wait for that life.

At least until we leave.

I can't be certain, but I think that we are heading to Iceland. I don't know much about geography, but I know it's an island the Vikings inhabited at some point in history. Or maybe they stayed there? I really have no idea, but I suspect I'm about to live it and find out.

When the people I've come to love leave the next morning, it's with a heavy heart that I watch them depart. Rúna presses kisses to my cheeks, promising me that the nine days will be quick. To my surprise, Eydís also embraces me, her arms strong and firm around me as she squeezes me tight. "You will make a fine daughter," she whispers into my hair before she pulls back from me. I cannot help but blush at her words, but I also cannot deny the smile they bring to my face.

It is apparently no longer acceptable for Arni, Josurr, or Edvard to hug me, though thankfully no such restriction exists for the children. Foli is quick about it, but Katla lingers, burying herself in my skirts with a tight grip. I drop to my knees to wrap my arms around her, fighting my own tears.

"I'll see you soon," I tell her, my voice a whisper. "We will go on an adventure together."

She gives me a small smile before her mother gently takes her hand, pulling her from me.

I desperately want to hug Edvard. I know this is not goodbye forever, but I feel foolish for how much time we've already wasted. How long could we have been together had I not been so frightened of this world?

It's a question that haunts me as I watch him mount his horse.

He looks back, only once, and his green eyes are so deep and piercing, it feels as if he's hooked my heart and taken it with him.

I feel hollow when he turns to lead his family back up the mountain.

I can't delay. There is much to do around the house, and though this is a smaller household, I can't imagine the chores are any fewer.

I turn from the road and focus on my new family. Tove is still recovering from childbirth, though she seems to have strength enough. Still, most of the household duties fall to Sigurð and myself.

Egil takes the boy—Erik—to tend to their animals. They have far fewer than Edvard's farm, and Sigurð has fewer needs than Eydís ever did. There is no other building for herbs, and the garden is small and cramped. I set to work with her, mending clothing and cleaning what needs to be cleaned. When the sun climbs higher in the sky, I transition to working on a meal for the family.

Tove keeps me company, sometimes with baby Halvard in her arms. When he sleeps, she sets him down on a blanket of furs and picks up mending to work on while I do more labor-intensive chores.

"How are you healing?" I ask her. She looks up from one of Erik's tunic's that she has been working on all morning. I haven't had the heart to ask if he is a þræll, though I can tell without having to be told. He's fair like everyone else, but he has darker hair than anyone I've seen in this world and speaks with an awkward, clunky accent that tells me this language—whatever it is—was not his first language.

It sinks my heart because he can't be more than twelve, and what sort of life is it for a child to be a slave?

"I am stronger every day," Tove tells me, pulling my mind from my troubling thoughts.

I look at her and nod.

"Good," I say, glancing down at the herbs I've harvested. "Good."

"Eydís tells me you are a gifted healer."

I stare up at her in surprise. "Eydís said that?"

She smiles.

"Yes." Tove looks down at the tunic, carefully guiding her bone needle through a few stitches before she looks up at me. "She's quite fond of you."

My hands drop the herbs to the table, and Tove grins at the shocked look I'm sure is all over my face.

"Eydís is stubborn," Tove says, looking back down at her mending. "But she is fearsome in her loyalty. You have earned her respect, and that will not easily waver."

I'm not sure what to say to that. "I thought she hated me," I murmur after a long moment. "For a very long time, it was as if she did."

Tove shrugs. "Perhaps. You were another mouth to feed, and without language or skill or knowledge of our world, I imagine it was hard on her to take you on."

I've never thought of it like that. Now that I know just how much work it is to sustain a single person, I really don't blame Eydís for her hostility to me in the early days. I was probably such a burden.

"But you have proven to her you are not weak. You have proven your heart to her."

I look at Tove.

"How do you know all this?" I ask her.

She looks up at me and smiles.

"Rúna is observant, and far less discerning who she shares her thoughts with."

I laugh, shaking my head. So much of my own experience has been answered in such a simple way. If only the answers had been so easy and clear when I'd first arrived.

I turn my attention back to the flatbread I am to start preparing next.

"Tove, can I ask you something?"

Her head tilts up toward me when I speak her name, and I take a deep breath, glancing between her and the dough I'm beginning to form. "What will happen when we travel to Iceland?"

Her eyebrows dip in confusion, and then she nods. I don't know if it's because I've used my English word for Iceland, or because speaking in the future is almost impossible in their language. It is not at all like English, and it's sometimes painful to try to construct a simple question without a future tense.

"Egil's brother has a farm," she says. "We will be with him until Egil can start his own farm."

I lick my lips. "And, Edvard and his family?"

My voice squeaks over his name, giving away my more than casual interest. Tove smiles, looking down at the tunic to tie off her string.

"His father is in Ísland."

I drop the dough on the table in my surprise. "Edvard has a father?"

It's a silly question, really. Of course he has a father. But I had just figured his father had passed away.

Tove nods, shifting the tunic in her lap to begin stitching another seam. "Kári and his brother Oddi left for Ísland last summer. They have worked there on their family farms while their sons work these farms to bring everyone to the new land."

"His brother?" I ask.

Tove's lips quirk into a small smile. "Arni's father."

My mouth pops open in surprise. "Wait," I say, the word slipping out in English as I shake my head. "Arni is not Edvard's brother?"

Tove grins.

"They are cousins. Their fathers are brothers."

"And Josurr?"

"Edvard's younger brother," Tove confirms.

I try to wrap my head around all the information pouring out of her. About the family I'd been living with, and the choices they'd all been making without me realizing it. "Okay," I murmur. "That's why Edvard has been so careful about money," I whisper in English. I'm not speaking to Tove, but she raises an eyebrow anyway. I shake my head and focus on her. "They are saving money to travel?"

She nods. "Both of our families have been saving to sail and to build a strong farm when we arrive. It is costly, and likely, Egil will have to go out on the raids many times before we are finished."

My mouth goes dry. I'm not sure I understand the cultural significance of the raids just yet. Isn't there enough wealth here as is? Why would they need to raid?

I think about Edvard going on the raids, and my stomach turns sour. Will he still look for women to bed now that he's met me? If we marry, will he still seek women out? Is that customary here? And what about the raids themselves? What if he's injured?

I have to shut my eyes against the onslaught of sudden panic. Nothing has happened yet, and there is no reason to worry about a future I cannot control.

"You seem troubled," Tove says, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I open my eyes and look up at her.

"There is still much I don't understand," I whisper.

She nods, hearing me clearly across the quiet room.

"You will. Our ways are not to be feared. You come from a softer place, but here, we are strong. You will see."

I nod and quietly get back to working the dough. Just as I feel I'm starting to figure this place out, one more thing comes along to confuse me.

At this rate, I don't think I'll ever get the hang of this world.