Thank you for your reviews, if you've given them, and I hope you enjoy the reading even if you haven't. For reference sake, the main OC looks like the actress Stefany Mathias. The words/names I use later are taken from a list of Easterlings names and are pronounced "anna" or "kay-tun." Thank you for the reviews and encouragement. I hope you enjoy the update! Cheers!
"So many wonders befell him in the hills, it would be tedious to recount the least part of them."
Coming awake again was not so sudden as it had been by the riverside, but she was just as disoriented, what with having the strange quote dancing around in her head seeking a source in the recesses of her still jumbled mind, and also having a set of blue eyes staring down at her when she opened her own. She blinked a few times, wondering if the hovering eyes were just a figment of her still slightly feverish imagination, like the ghostly quote, but no they remained, and drew closer in fact even after she blinked her own a few times.
"Are you an elf?" the hovering eyes drew back to reveal a child's face, perhaps nine or ten years of age, with brown hair and softly rounded features. She could immediately see a resemblance to the man who'd rescued her. She knew this girl to be one of two daughters the man had spoken of before, but she couldn't recall a name to attach to the face she now looked at.
She shook her head but then paused before answering, the world spinning momentarily in response to her slight action. "I don't think I'm an elf." She opened her eyes and saw the girl still perched on the side of her bed staring at her. "Why do you ask?"
The girl smiled, "The clothes that Sigrid and I took off you a few days ago." The girl gestured over to the side of the room and she looked to see her tunic and leggings folded neatly on a chair by the window. "They look like something an elf would wear, at least that's what Da said." The little girl frowned, momentarily leaned closer, and when she sat back again she shook her head. "But your ears aren't like what Bain said an elf's should look like."
"And how should an elf's ears look like if you've never seen one?"
"Pointed of course." She continued to stare at her unblinkingly for a few moments longer. "You're also not fair and tall like what the stories say either. And I heard that elves were supposed to have magical powers that kept them from getting sick. You're too dark and short. Sigrid is almost taller than you in fact, and you've obviously been sick."
She was saved from having to reply by the sudden appearance of another girl, of lighter complexion and older age, "Tilda! You shouldn't be bothering her with such nonsense. Can you imagine waking up after being sick and Bain or I were hovering over your bed ready to insult you?"
"I wasn't insulting her." The younger girl, Tilda apparently, looked back to her with a sincere frown. "Did I insult you?"
She shrugged, "To be honest, I don't even remember what I look like so it would be difficult to be insulted, even when compared to something else I don't know."
Tilda's mouth dropped open, "You don't remember what you look like?" She looked over to the older girl, who had brought in a tray with what looked like soup and a mug of something to drink. "Sigrid, she doesn't remember what she looks like!"
"I heard." Sigrid set the tray down on the small table near the bedside. "Now can you please find something else to do for a little while and give her some time to recover before you pester her again?"
Tilda looked ready to argue but Sigrid crossed her arms over her chest and glared away any argument. Tilda sighed and trudged over to the door, leaving it open as she moved through and began down the stairs just outside. Tilda's head had just about disappeared down the stairs when suddenly she popped back up again and near shouted her next question.
"What's your name?"
Again she was saved from having to answer when Sigrid threw up her hands and stomped over to the door, muttering as she went. "Tilda! Go find a fish downstairs and bugger him with your questions and leave the woman be!" Sigrid slammed the door and latched it, though she got the feeling that if Tilda wanted to come in again she could still manage to find some way in.
"I'm sorry if my sister was a nuisance to you, and so soon after you finally woke up too." Sigrid was speaking again as she moved back to the bed. "She's been the one to come in and out the most, making sure you weren't," Sigrid blushed suddenly before she finished her sentence, "dead."
She'd not been offended by anything that'd been said thus far but the reminder of her sickness had her troubled, "Was I truly that close to death?"
Sigrid nodded as she pulled up a chair to sit next to her bed, pulling the bowl of soup into her lap. "Da said that if we hadn't gotten some of those herbs down you, or rubbed the poultice on your chest when we did, you might've died."
She glanced down and noticed that her chest looked bandaged and figured that the poultice was underneath it, against her skin. Her whole body felt itchy and filthy, most likely from the numerous sweats her body had been through during her fever. She figured that even if she had been tall and fair, as Tilda claimed elves should be, she'd still look rotten at this point.
"Is it true then?" She looked back to Sigrd when she spoke up. "You don't remember who you are or where you've come from?"
She sat up a little straighter, leaning her back against the wall, and accepted the bowl from Sigrid before she answered. "Just as I told your sister, I also don't remember what I look like, or my name for that matter. I can remember shadows of events and piece together faces of people I must know but I can't connect any of it." She lifted the bowl, as if to apologize for cutting off the conversation, before diving into it—her stomach reminding her quite strongly that she'd hadn't eaten in a long time.
Thankfully, Sigrid did not sit quietly while she ate. Instead she took the opportunity to acquaint her with the comings and goings of the household.
"You met Tilda of course. She's the youngest. She's not always so chatty but she is always very curious and imaginative and that can sometimes bring about trouble. I'm afraid she never had the opportunity to be around our mother's guidance like Bain and I did. I've done what I can to try to imitate what Ma would've done with her but sometimes I forget, you know, what she looked like, sounded like, that sort of thing." Sigrid swiped a hand over her hair, as if to tuck in stray strands of the fairly curly tendrils she'd looped up into a bun, before she continued. "Bain is the eldest and the most like Da I suppose. He keeps to himself as much as he can and always wants to accompany Da on his trips but Da says he needs to stay and watch us; he seems to forget that I'm near of age already and Bain only gets in the way around here anyway." She'd finished the soup and Sigrid quickly took the bowl away and handed her the mug. "Then of course you've met Da. He's known around here as 'The Bowman' but the few people he considers friends just call him Bard."
She finished off the spiced cider Sigrid had filled the mug with and also handed it back, "And this is Laketown? I think I remember your father calling this place by that name."
"Aye, this is Laketown. It was built in the years after the destruction of the city of Dale, the results of the dragon Smaug." She drew back at the mentioning of a dragon. She had no reason to doubt Sigrid's tale and yet the presence of a dragon within Sigrid's story had her hesitating in belief. "But it's been many years since then, and I wasn't even alive when that happened. All I've known is Laketown, and this house." Sigrid frowned suddenly. "If you don't know your name what is it that we're to call you while you're here?"
She frowned and rubbed the tips of her fingers over the course blanket as she thought. There were no names that came immediately to mind that seemed to match her; in fact, the only names her mind was registering were the ones that Sigrid had just told her. It was as if all that existed in her mind prior to being rescued from the river had been washed away by the river water, with only remnants left behind in pools here and there scattered around inside her.
"I honestly don't know." She looked back to Sigrid and sighed. "What do you think my name is?"
Sigrid drew back and again ran a hand over her head as she thought. She sat quietly, for there was little else she could do to offer up choices, and waited for Sigrid to speak again.
"Years ago, so long ago I barely remember, there was a group of people who came through here who looked similar to you, but with darker hair and skin. They wore strange clothing, all robes and veils, and when they walked it sounded like bells were attached somewhere to their clothes. They were traders from far away, Da said, and had come not knowing that Dale had been destroyed so many years before." Sigrid shrugged. "I suppose it takes a long time for news like that to travel wherever it was they came from. In any case, I grew curious over what was in their bags and while I was looking in one of them an older woman, one of their people, caught me and I thought for sure I'd be punished, accused of being a thief or something. But, even though I couldn't see her face, I could see her eyes and they were kind. She spoke to me with a very heavy accent, I almost couldn't understand her, but she asked about my family and where they were. When I told her that my mother had died only a few months before she'd whispered a word to me and told me that it was from her language. She said it was both a term and a name, as in their culture people are called by their status and have hidden names." Sigrid closed her eyes, as if by doing so she could access her memory better. "'Ana-katun' I think is what she said. It means mother and woman, though I'm not sure which means which to be honest."
She frowned and tried to see if the words registered in her own mind but they did not. She did feel, however, that between the two words the first was most likely 'mother' and the latter 'woman.' While neither name jogged a memory it was at least better than having nothing to be called.
"I'll go with Katun." Sigrid smiled, her look of relief near comical. "Now that we have my name figured out, how long have I been here?"
"About two days."
Katun frowned, "No one has come looking for me in that time?"
"No," Sigrid shook her head, "no one's come into Laketown other than those who live here and since everyone knows everyone here we know that no one here knows you."
It took Katun a moment to follow Sigrid's logic but she nodded once it became clear. She already felt more lively than she had upon first waking, and being bombarded by Tilda's innocent questions, the soup and cider doing their part to invigorate her. She glanced around the room and noticed that the decorations, though sparse, seemed to be too masculine to be either Tilda or Sigrid's room.
As if reading her thoughts Sigrid spoke up, "This is Da's room. It is the most private and he figured you'd need the silence and privacy if you were going to make a full recovery." She leaned forward to add. "And in this town privacy is a rare commodity. I'm surprised that no one has barged in here demanding to know who you are. Even though Da brought you in after dark I'm sure at least some of our neighbors saw you."
"Where has your father been sleeping?" She felt guilt itching around in her chest, not liking the idea of having kicked a man out of his own bed. While she hadn't been of this world for long she knew at least enough about her previous self to know that she'd been self-sufficient and would've been loathed to have thrust a man out of his own room for her sake.
"Oh he's been bunking with Bain in the loft," She pointed towards the door and upwards. "Tilda and I are downstairs nearest the stove. We keep it going in the night and Da wants us to stay warm too so that's our lot."
Katun did not feel a kinship towards the lives these people lived, she did not feel connected to the names, the history, or the very place. She felt as disconnected and confused now as she had when she'd first woken up. Only this time she did not have the man, Bard, by her side comforting her with his words and his hands. His daughter, for as sweet as she was, offered little of this.
Katun scratched at her head, "Do you think there's any way I could get a bath? I feel disgusting."
"Of course! It won't be fancy, if that's what you're used to," Sigrid blushed when she realized the connotations of her comment then hurriedly continued, "but Tilda and I can bring the tub up here for you and heat up some water over the fire."
"That's too much trouble!" Katun frowned. "Isn't there some place downstairs I could have a quick wash without being too much of a nuisance?"
Sigrid tipped her head to the side for a silent moment then smiled, "Bain is off at the market and Da is somewhere on his rounds, so only Tilda and I are here for now. Neither Bain nor Da should be back for at least an hour so we should be able to help you get a good wash in before they return."
Katun smiled, already grateful even though the process of getting out of bed and moving down the stairs was difficult and relatively painful. She started shivering while waiting as Tilda hauled the tub out from under some bench and moved it to a small alcove with what looked like a sheet thrown over a wooden rod the only thing making it semi-private, and Sigrid took it upon herself to heat the water. Once this was finished the girls made themselves scarce, Tilda going upstairs to be "lookout" while Sigrid moved to the other side of the first floor to ready the meal for her father and brother's return.
Tilda was right, Sigrid was almost taller than herself, but as Katun undressed behind the thin sheet, she noticed numerous scars marring the skin that moved over well-defined muscles. She may not remember where she came from or who she was before the rescue but wherever she came from she must've had a hard life, if the number of what looked like knife wounds or strange starburst-like scars had anything to do with it. Also, the fact that she could clearly see the definition of her muscles in her thighs, stomach, and arms, led her to believe that perhaps she'd been a warrior of sorts, and most definitely NOT someone used to "fancy" as Sigrid had feared.
It took some strange maneuvering to set herself up in the tub without falling over. It wasn't long enough to stretch out in, only large enough to crouch down in, and when standing up the height of it only reached the bottom of her knees. It was better than nothing though and after the initial rush of sensations, some painful and some not, of getting into the water passed, she picked up the cloth Sigrid had left behind, along with the soap, and set to scrubbing.
By the time her skin was pink from scrubbing, and her scalp tingled as well, she felt like a new woman. She didn't know how long she'd been in the water but she feared if she stayed any longer she'd risk running into either Bard or Bain. Katun stepped out of the tub, careful not to step backwards too far for fear of of coming out from behind the sheet, and struggled to get the nightdress back over her head, a difficult task now that her body was wet—that was one thing Sigrid had forgotten, a towel to dry off with.
She'd just jerked the dress over her head and shoulders when her feet lost their footing on the now damp floor and she felt herself falling backwards. She reached her arms out to grab hold of the sheet but this helped not and within seconds she was on a fast journey to the ground. Only she never hit the ground. Instead, when she opened her eyes, she felt two arms, entrapped in the sheet, holding her around her rib cage. She jerked her head to the side and looked up, appalled to see the face of her rescuer staring back down at her in equal surprise.
It seemed to take him a moment to realize exactly what had happened, why it was he was now holding her—he had most likely been passing through the hall when she'd fallen into him—and also her state of indecency. He quickly pushed her upright and away from him. Katun pushed the nightdress the rest of the way down her body, still a difficult task, though now because of the useless sheet entangled around her feet.
"My daughters have been looking out for you?" He spoke over his shoulder, she noticed, when she turned to face him again, as if to give her more privacy. She smiled at the gesture.
"Yes. They've been most attentive." She looked down at the torn sheet and frowned. "I'm sorry."
He glanced backwards then looked down as well. His lips quirked upward in a half smile. "Not to worry, it can be mended." Bard stood up to his full height and faced her. "I trust you feel better?"
She nodded, "I do, thank you. It appears that I don't have all my faculties about me yet." She indicated the sheet and for a moment it looked as if the man blushed as he looked away. "And I still don't remember anything useful. Your eldest daughter, Sigrid, helped give me a name until I can remember my own. Katun." She watched as he mouthed the name, as if testing its qualities, before nodding his assent. "Did you not see her on your way in?"
The girl in question suddenly appeared around the corner, her hands flying up to her face in horror when she spotted the two of them. She looked between Katun and her father, then down at the pathetic sheet on the floor, and she shook her head—her expression now a mixture of horror and amusement.
"I didn't hear you come in Da. I'm so sorry." She came forward and took Katun's hand. "Tilda got her finger stuck in the old weave upstairs and I had to rescue her. I was only gone a moment." She looked down at the sheet then back up at Katun, the horror giving way to full amusement. "I really am sorry."
"You certainly don't look it." Her father chimed in, his face now holding a trace of the girl's amusement as well. "Is supper ready yet?"
"Just about."
"I'll look after it while you help Katun back upstairs where she can find something warmer to wear." He gave Katun a slight nod of his head before he pushed past, difficult to avoid touching each other given how narrow the quarters were.
At his suggestion Katun looked down and felt herself blush. The dress, due to the dampness of her skin, had grown near transparent, and it was a wonder that the man had even managed to converse with her intelligently for as long as he had. Sigrid kept silent about that particular fact as she quickly helped her back up the stairs where Katun wished she could crawl back into bed and only come out once Bard's mind had been washed clean of everything that had happened so far that day.