Good morning, Smár Einn!
Whew, you are all panicked by the last few chapters! Don't worry, we're just ramping up, so there is still a lot to work through!
Thank you to Mel and Jill!
.: Fjórir Tigir ok Níu :.
The morning of the wedding, I wake to an already active household. Not a single man is inside, and for a brief moment, I wonder if I've overslept.
Then Tove is there, tugging me up to my feet and pushing me outside. "Be quick," she says, sounding distracted. "We have much to do."
When I stumble outside, I realize it's still early in the morning.
There is even more activity around the house when I return from relieving myself, and as soon as I enter the hall, Sigurð comes to take me by the hand. "Come, daughter," she says, tugging me along behind her. She sits me down on a bench, giving me a crust of bread with honey. "Eat quickly. There is much to do."
I keep hearing that, but I have no idea what they mean by it. I eat as quickly as I'm able, trying to glean from conversations I can overhear what is in store today.
When I'm finished eating, I'm whisked outside to the bathhouse by Sigurð, Tove, Rúna, and Eydís.
"What are we doing?" I ask as we reach the bathhouse.
"We must cleanse you," Tove explains. "We shall wash away your maidenhood so that you will become a woman."
I immediately blush, and my anxiousness about what lies ahead of me increases.
Inside the bathhouse, three þræll women I don't know the names of have prepared a bath for me. It smells warm and floral, and I realize they've scented the water with different herbs.
I'm stripped out of my apron and dress before I can utter a single protest. It is, apparently, no time to be modest.
Though I've grown accustomed to communal bathing since arriving here, people are not usually so focused on my body. They have their own needs to attend to, and I can mostly get by without too much embarrassment.
My whole body is flushed with how uncomfortable I am.
But then Sigurð comes to stand in front of me, and her face is so calm and loving that my unease starts to melt away. She offers me a small smile before she starts singing. Her voice is low and haunting and stirs an immediate emotional response from me.
Around me, the women start singing as they each reach for cloth they've dunked into the perfumed water. They work together, singing and bringing the cloths to my skin, cleansing me. I don't know the words of the song specifically; they sound old—archaic even—but there is something profound in the magic they weave.
Together, the most important women in my life work to clean me, tenderly caring for me in the process. Since I've arrived here, I've known so many new things, but the one thing I've not yet been able to truly wrap my mind around is the unconditional love and support of family.
It brings tears to my eyes.
Though I don't know the words to their song, I feel them in my soul, and my heart sings with them, weaving a powerful and indefinable spell over the bathhouse. I don't know what to call this other than magic. There is magic in the women around me, magic in myself, and with each gentle stroke of the washcloths against my skin, I feel that magic filling me more and more until I'm near bursting with it.
I am beautiful. I am strong. I am powerful. I am loved.
…
After being bathed, Tove presents me with a dress. It is a beautiful green, very nearly the color of Edvard's eyes, and embroidered with intricate bright patterns. "This was my wedding dress," she tells me, her hands gently brushing over the embroidery. "And it was my mother's before me. It has been passed through my family, and we each add a small piece of who we are." She motions to a beautiful flower on one sleeve, and I immediately know it's meant to represent Tove. I look up at her and then at Sigurð, lost for words.
They both smile at me, and Sigurð reaches out to brush my hair back and start dressing me. I'm worried that the gown will be too long, as I'm shorter than both Tove and Sigurð, but as soon as it's on, I see it's been very artfully hemmed up, leaving the embroidered hem to still be shown.
Sigurð produces two large brooches she uses to pin to the straps of my apron dress, and she strings heavy beads between them. At my waist, they tie a thin colorful belt. When I'm dressed, Rúna begins braiding my hair back into a complicated series of small braids, weaving tiny beads into some of the braids. When my hair is done, Sigurð and Tove place a silver circlet around my head.
"You are beautiful," Tove whispers, gently brushing a stray hair away from my face.
"Thank you," I say, my eyes casting around to the women surrounding me. I feel more loved with them than I've ever felt in my life.
"Your brothers have something for you before the ceremony begins," Sigurð says, motioning outside. I take a breath and nod, following her outside where Egil and Bjorn are waiting for me. They both look handsome in bright tunics that have much more intricate embroidery than their everyday wear.
"Sister," Bjorn says, offering me a bright, friendly smile. "A beautiful bride you make."
I blush at the compliment.
"We have something for you," Egil says, getting my attention. "It is customary that you and Edvard would exchange swords as part of the wedding ceremony," he explains, producing a beautiful sword. Its sheath is etched with a large bird of prey—an eagle perhaps—and I look up at him in surprise. "This is our family's sword. It shall now be your family's sword to be passed to your own children."
My mouth goes dry.
"Thank you," I whisper, reaching out to take it. It's heavy, and I'm glad it's sheathed, for I'm sure I would have injured myself with a bare blade.
"Are you ready?"
I look up at Egil and Bjorn, two men that have shown me kindness beyond common decency. They have taken me in, looked out for me, made me family. No matter where my life takes me next, I will always have that connection to them now.
"Yes," I say, nodding. Bjorn grins and offers me his elbow. I loop my arm through his, holding the sword with my right hand. Egil falls into step on my right, and together, we head up the hill, toward the sea.