Ugh, sorry it took so long guys. For various reasons, both my time and motivation to write have been unforgivably low. At least I FINALLY got another chapter written for this one though. I apologize in advance if it sucks…
I won't spend a bunch of time answering each of the really old comments, but I just wanted to say that I was so happy to hear you guys found this premise interesting. I've reread each of your comments several times by this point. As such, I will leave it on the table for the readers to decide. Do you guys want an eventual lemon in this thing? Or would you rather it stays at its current rating? Let me know your opinion, and thanks for sticking with me all this time :)
~oOo~
Even before they had come within sight of Mulch's, Astrid knew that her hunch had been correct. Mostly because she could hear the farmhand, Bucket, from almost a mile down the road. His bellowing sobs sounding more like a wounded animal than a grown man, and Astrid was honestly a little worried that the twins might have done something major.
Then again, that was just Bucket. He was a huge man with a heart of pure gold and the intellectual prowess of a toddler. It was very likely that he was just crying because the yaks were upset. Or maybe because the imminent storm was causing the metal bucket he wore on his head to tighten up. Who's to say, really?
As expected, once they had rounded the bend in the little dirt road, Astrid and Fish caught sight of the first of the tipped yaks. The furry beasts were lying on their sides in the field with their stout legs kicking lazily at the air. Baying and chewing, while making absolutely no effort to right themselves. It was a bit pathetic really. Astrid growled through her teeth as her fists clenched. They didn't have time for this, she thought as she shot another glance upwards towards the angry black clouds swirling overhead - begging the storm to hold off just a little longer.
Speaking of pathetic things… When she dropped her eyes back to the farm, she couldn't help noting that Sheriff Jorgenson was apparently already here - and he had brought his son along. The stalky young man was clad in brown breeches, dark brown boots, and a white shirt and green leather doublet with silver buttons that both looked extremely expensive, but likely weren't. He and his father were standing with a flustered Mulch, a sobbing Bucket, and two of Astrid's least favourite people right now. Ruffnut's dusty bonnet askew and a mixture of dirt smudges and grass stains all over their clothes. They couldn't have looked more guilty if they'd tried.
Just great! How was Astrid supposed to get them away from here without Snotlout seeing her now? To make matters worse, the moment they caught sight of Astrid and Fish the twins both raised their hands in greeting. Huge smiles plastered on their faces - as if they were having the time of their lives. Tuff's chicken even squawking and flapping happily by Tuff's feet.
Following the direction of the twins' gazes, the rest of the group turned to face the newcomers. Snotlout's frown morphing to a leering grin instead as his eyes settled on Astrid. It seemed no matter how many times she pushed the idiot away, both figuratively and literally, he just kept coming back for more. The fact that she was below him in status didn't seem to matter to him either. He remained steadfastly convinced that Astrid was going to profess her undying love for him any day now. Though she did hope that maybe the bruises she left on him last time might be enough to encourage him to keep his hands to himself from now on.
Sheriff Jorgenson, also known as Spitelout, was an imposing mountain of a man. Standing nearly 7 feet tall, with broad shoulders and a burly frame, he was not a man to be messed with. He also had a tendency to be quite reactive, and could likely be pretty violent if the mood struck. As a little girl, Astrid had been convinced that the Sheriff was a werewolf, based on his excesses of both body size and body hair. Of course she quickly grew out of that belief, though she sometimes still questioned how human he really was. Especially those times that she had witnessed him bludgeoning his own head for sport at The Mead Hall.
Spitelout's son Snotlout, on the other hand, was neither tall, nor imposing - although he did still have an excess of body hair. Standing at around 5 and half feet tall, he was actually several inches shorter than Astrid. When she was feeling uncharacteristically generous, Astrid could admit that the stalky young man wasn't that bad looking, and he did have a decently impressive amount of muscle. Too bad his personality and oversized ego still made her dry heave.
"Hey babe," Snotlout suddenly called out. Predictably directing all of his unwanted attention towards Astrid as she and Fish neared the little group. "Just couldn't stand to make a trip to town without setting up some excuse to see me, eh?"
Astrid rolled her eyes in exasperation - doing her best to ignore the idiot as Fish sniggered beside her. His humour at her expense making her sorely tempted to hit him. Man of the cloth or not, he was asking for it.
When she still refused to acknowledge him however, Snot dropped his voice a little as he leaned closer to Astrid. His hand boldly coming up to rest on her shoulder. "I get it, babe. You're speechless in my presence, which makes sense. I am incredibly good looking," he boasted.
"Ugh," Astrid groaned as she felt bile rise in her throat. Clearly he was just terminally delusional - standing with his brawny chest puffed out to make himself appear larger as he continued to give her what he obviously thought was a winning smile. "Incredibly annoying more like," she growled as she brought her arm back to land a hard jab of her elbow straight to his stomach. Snot huffing out a pained breath in response as he retracted his hand to clutch at his aching ribs instead.
"Well on that note, Astrid probably wants to get going," Tuffnut abruptly cut in. Watching the display between Snot and Astrid with a devious grin. He and his sister slowly beginning to inch away from the rest of the group.
"Yeah, she really wanted to get home before the storm hit," Ruffnut added slyly as she pointed towards the roiling sky. "So, if you don't mind, we'll just…"
"Not a chance," Sheriff Jorgenson countered gruffly as he grabbed them both by the scruffs of their necks and hauled them back. "You two savages aren't going anywhere until every single one of those yaks are back on their feet."
For once, Astrid fully agreed with a Jorgenson - even if it meant she might get drenched on the way home. The twins had been wreaking havoc throughout the village for as long as Astrid could remember, and nothing anyone said had ever been able to make them stop. Maybe this would settle them down for a while. Tipping the yaks over would have been easy. Coercing the stubborn beasts back onto their feet however… Well that was going to be a whole other story - and if there was one thing the twins hated more than behaving themselves, it was hard work.
"Ugh, fine," the twins chorused in unison. Stomping past the group and ducking through the fence posts as they made their way out into the field.
Shaking her head at the twins, Astrid cast another glance up at the ominous sky. They really, really didn't have time for this. A part of her wanted to help the twins so that they could get out of here quicker - and so that she could get away from Snotlout - but she knew that they would never learn if she kept cleaning up their messes for them. So instead her, Fish, and the blasted chicken were left to watch the show while trying futilely to ignore Snot's stupid commentary about how he would never let someone off this easy once he was Sheriff. His words only serving to make Astrid want to hit him harder than she already had today.
Thankfully it didn't take the twins that long to get the yaks all sorted out. Still, by the time they left the farm, Astrid's face felt set in a permanent scowl. Snotlout's hovering presence at her elbow not helping her mood in the slightest. The stalky man had used the excuse that he wanted to keep an eye on the twins, but now he was just strutting along beside Astrid like a proud gentleman escorting his lady. As if she seriously needed the idiot to accompany them back to the Inn in the first place. The twins were more afraid of Astrid than they had ever been of Snotlout.
Just as the group reached the village square, they ran into yet another person that Astrid would rather not see. Mildew the Miserable and his ornery old sheep Fungus were both skulking around near Trader Johan's vardo. "Oh look, there's Gobber. I think we'll be fine from here," Astrid told Snotlout as she caught sight of the Innkeeper just across the way. Maybe if she was lucky, she could escape before Snot's carrying voice caught the attention of her smelly old neighbour.
"Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you all the way home, fair lady," Snot asked loudly. Clearly undeterred by the blatant cold shoulder he had been receiving up to this point.
"I didn't even want you to accompany me this far," Astrid countered blandly. Sighing inwardly as she saw Johan and Mildew glance over in interest at the sound of Snot's voice.
"You'd better watch out for that one Master Jorgenson," Mildew croaked out. A twisted smile growing on his face and displaying mossy teeth that made Astrid cringe. "They say her mother bewitched young Ivor into giving up his name and status for a woman. If you're not careful, they'll do the same to you."
"Oh, sod off you old goat," Astrid griped loudly. Her short temper rising to the surface at the mention of the ridiculous old rumours that had followed her family for years. "My mother isn't a witch, and nor am I. If we were, we would've found some way to be rid of you years ago."
Tuffnut let out a cackle at that, but he was the only one truly amused. At her words, Mildew had actually gasped loudly and clutched at his heart. "Did you hear that," he spouted at a startled Johan. "She just threatened me with a curse. I told you they were trouble." Even Fishlegs looked a little shocked at her outburst, as his normally cherub pink cheeks blanched white.
She knew it had been a stupid thing to say, but she couldn't help it. Her Hofferson temper just had a way of making her blurt out rash things without thinking sometimes. "Ah, she didn' threaten you with anythin', you damned fool," Gobber's gruff voice suddenly cut in. He must have heard the disruption and come to see what was up, and just in time too. "She jus' said out loud wha' the rest of us 'ave been thinkin' for years." Then he gestured for Astrid to follow him and stumped off towards his Inn.
Feeling immensely grateful, Astrid and the twins hurried after Gobber. Leaving Fish and Snot to deal with the now ranting and irate Mildew. "You'd better be more careful lass," Gobber warned her quietly after they'd left the crowded square. "Mildew is more than happy ta' make trouble, even withou' you lot givin' him a reason."
"I know," Astrid sighed as she glanced up to meet his kind blue eyes. "And thank you."
Gobber granted her a small smile of acknowledgement as she moved to scratch Stormfly under the chin. The loyal white mare still standing patiently out front of the Mead Hall, as Astrid knew she would be. Climbing nimbly up onto the bench seat, Astrid glared at the twins now, who were still standing by Gobber. "Get in," she barked at them. Smirking slightly as the bedraggled blighters clambered into the back of the cart without another word.
"Give that fine mother o' yours my thanks, will ya," Gobber added as they were about to leave. "Even without witchcraft, she's been a blessin' for this old man's tired bones ever since she arrived here."
There was a twinkle in his eyes, and Astrid couldn't help chuckling a little at that. It was true enough that her mother had been helping to keep the people of Berk healthy and comfortable for years, even despite their initial suspicions about her. With nod and a wave at the teasing old innkeeper, Astrid flicked the reins. Stormfly letting out a soft whinny in return as she turned them around and headed back out of town. Astrid's mind straying back to her mother, and the rumours that her family just couldn't seem to shake.
Ingrid was an admittedly interesting woman. Astrid didn't know much about her mother's previous life, aside from the fact that she had been born in Manningtree. As the middle child in a large family of peasant farmers her prospects had been bleak. Hoping for something better, she'd made use of her uncommon beauty and limited education to land a job as a maid in a nearby manor instead.
As Ingrid liked to say, she was a terrible maid, but the Lady of the house kept her on anyways. Mostly because of her talent with herbal remedies. A skill which had been passed down through generations of women in her family. It was there, skulking meekly through the halls and trying to go unnoticed, that Ingrid had met a handsome young traveller by the name of Ivor.
Ivor Hofferson was the eldest son of a wealthy merchant - set to inherent money, land, and title - and he had been visiting the manor house with his father. Like many other male visitors, he couldn't help but notice the quiet young woman with the aristocratically lovely features and bright blue eyes that was moving about the rooms. Even smudged with soot, it was impossible for Ingrid to hide her pretty face and perfect figure. Just as Ingrid couldn't help taking note of the tall blonde nobleman from Scotland, with his broad shoulders and rugged good looks. Apparently it had been love at first sight for the both of them.
Then something happened that changed everything. Another young nobleman staying at the manor had turned up dead. No one knew for sure what had transpired, but several servants had reported seeing the man and Ingrid fighting in a corridor the day before. They believed that he had been trying to force himself upon her, and that Ivor had then killed the man in a jealous rage. Of course Astrid's father had never actually confirmed his guilt when regaling them with the tale, but he had also never denied it either.
Knowing that there was nothing left for them, Ivor had taken only what they could easily carry, and he and Ingrid had run off together. Thanks to his family connections, Ivor still had some friends of status that were willing to help him and Ingrid disappear. Such a friend had been an Innkeeper and Blacksmith located in the nearby town of Berk, and that was where they fled to. Shortly after their arrival, the young couple were married in the village chapel. As a wedding gift from the Earl - and likely thanks in large part to Gobber - the young couple were also granted a small parcel of farmland, upon which they settled down to build a quiet life together.
That was three and twenty years ago now, and Ingrid still held firm that neither she nor Ivor ever regretted it for a moment. Though this life had undoubtedly been difficult, it was likely better than they would have faced otherwise. Astrid had also never seen any two people as in love as her parents had been. Ingrid often joking that she must have dreamt Ivor into existence, for why else would such a perfect man possibly choose to throw away everything for a lowly servant girl. Judging by the rumours that Mildew had seen fit to remind Astrid about though, clearly there were others who still believed it was something far more sinister than fate.
Shaking away those unpleasant thoughts, Astrid peered out at the horizon. They were still a fair ways from home, and the sky overhead was looking even more threatening now as the heavy clouds twisted and swirled around each other. It felt a bit like Noah's flood was about to be unleashed upon them, and Astrid would really rather not be caught on the road by it. Grumbling curses at the twins under her breath, she coaxed Stormfly into a low canter. The little cart creaking and protesting as its spindly wheels bounced over the rutted road.
They managed to reach the Hofferson farm before the rain started, but the wind had certainly kicked up. The gusts were cutting through the linen of Astrid's dress and making her long for a cloak. Each one tangling the bulky fabric around her legs and threatening to tear her bonnet off her head, even with the ties securely fastened beneath her chin. Looking towards the field, she could see her mother out working in the small stretch of land they had cultivated this year. Probably trying to collect what she could and protect the rest before the storm hit.
"Well, we should probably go see if our Mom needs some help," Tuffnut spouted the moment Astrid turned around to glare at them. Ruff nodding in exuberant agreement. Then the two of them were leaping out of the cart and racing across the field towards their house. Tuff hugging his chicken close to his body, as if trying to shield her from the weather.
Still muttering curses under her breath, Astrid watched their retreating backs for a moment. Then she climbed down off the bench and started unhooking Stormfly. After storing the little cart in its spot by the barn, she took the horse inside. Then she gave Stormfly a quick brush down - with promise of a more thorough one tomorrow - and dumped some oats into the feed sack before topping up the water and hay.
Glancing around to make sure she'd done everything she could before the storm, she headed out to the field to help her mother and brothers. They needed to salvage whatever they could of the delicate bell peppers, as too much rain and wind would destroy them. The remaining root vegetables should last, unless the fields flooded.
Upon arrival, Astrid was pleased to see that most of the work was already done. The near-ripe vegetables and fruits were piled into tidy baskets atop the pushcart, and the remaining plants had been secured with wooden stakes, wire, and covered with a special protective netting Ingrid and Astrid had woven out of reeds. "Need any help here," Astrid asked as she tucked the flyaway strands of her hair back under her bonnet.
Her mother finished tying off a swath of netting before standing up and looking around. "I don't think we need do anymore around here," she replied with a thoughtful frown. Wiping her soiled hands idly on her apron and leaving dirty handprints on the white linen. "We came out shortly after I finished putting the stew on. I knew this storm was going to be a bad one when Mildew killed a spider yesterday. You know that big black one that was living on the fence. I tried to stop him, but he yelled at me to mind my own business and then smashed it with that awful staff he carries. Poor thing didn't stand a chance…"
Ingrid trailed off with a sad shake of her head as she finally met her daughters gaze. Astrid rolling her eyes in full understanding. Mildew was such an ignorant fool. Everyone knew that spiders brought good luck. Killing one was as good as asking for a curse to be placed over your head. Judging by the sudden rumble of thunder in the distance, it looked as if the whole town was going to pay though.
Astrid wondered for a moment if she should tell her mother about running into Mildew in town. Or about Trader Johan's dire warnings. Then she promptly decided against it. Ingrid had enough on her plate already without worrying about stodgy old fools and travelling storytellers trying to spread fear.
She reached for the handles of the little push cart, but her mom stopped her. "I'll get this," she hollered over a fresh gust of wind. "You go make sure your brothers have the animals all penned up." With a nod, Astrid watched her mother hoist the cart and start trundling it over the uneven ground. Then she took off at a run.
Unlike most people, Ingrid had never been keen on allowing farm animals into the house. Claiming that they carried diseases which could make people sick, she had insisted that they build a separate building beside their new house from the remains of their old shack. Despite what he saw as a waste of perfectly good materials, Ivor - having long since learned to trust his wife's instincts - had grudgingly obliged, but only after he'd built some sort of solid coverings for the new windows too. Astrid had to admit that these unusual additions did keep their home much more comfortable and clean than most. Even if it also made the neighbours more suspicious of the Hoffersons than they had already been.
The tiny outbuilding was little more than a shanty made from scraps that shared one wall with the main house, and had a steeply sloping roof to help shed the weather. Astrid reached it just as the first drop of rain hit her cheek. Holding the little wooden door tight to stop it being ripped from its hinges, she leant down to peer in, and was met with the sight of two skittish goats and several puffed up hens all glaring back at her. The birds' bright, beady eyes looking fearful as the wind shook the small shack. The boys had done a good job of getting everything tied down though. The hens might be too scared to lay many eggs tonight, but they would at least be safe and dry.
Grabbing up the food sack, Astrid helped her brothers to top off the trays. Then they all made a hasty exit in hopes of getting inside before the downpour hit. Astrid sent the twins to grab a couple more armloads of firewood for the bin in the house, while she fought to get the shack door closed. The wind was trying to push it back open - making dirty hay from the ground swirl out and choke her - and she threw herself bodily against the wood as she slammed the rusty latch down.
By the time she reached the house, the rain was just starting to come down in earnest. The cold water soaking her face and running in cold rivulets down the back of her neck. Thankfully everything had already been taken inside, and the shutters had all been secured over the small window openings. Once again grateful for her parents' insight she pushed her way into the sheltering warmth of the little house.
The delicious smell of rich stew instantly assailed her nose, and she sighed in appreciation. Her stomach giving a loud grumble of agreement as she closed the door and latched it. The sound of the storm dying down instantly as the thin planks held much of the wind at bay. Just as she turned backs towards the kitchen however, there was suddenly a loud scrape and thump from just behind her. The sound making her jump away from the door and reach for the nearest bludgeon - which just happened to be a heavy wooden mallet. Her brothers both glancing up from their spot at the table with wide blue eyes.
Whipping around with the hammer clutched in both hands, she was fully expecting to find an unfortunate intruder trying to foolishly enter the house. Instead her gaze fell on an instantly recognizable wooden object laying on the floor in front of the entrance. "Broom fell," her mother stated blandly from near the fireplace. "Guess that means company's coming."
"Oh mom," Astrid returned. Shaking her head as she lowered the hammer back to her side. "You know better than to believe in those old wives' tales," she teased. "The wind must have just knocked it over." Then she bent down to grab the broom and stand it back up. Making sure to lean it securely against the corner so that it wouldn't easily fall again - since admittedly she knew better than to completely ignore the old superstitions.
Just as she let go of the handle, there was another scraping sound. This one definitely coming from outside, and Astrid met her mother's gaze with a raised brow while hoping that it was just the wind causing a branch to scratch against the outside wall. Then she hefted the hammer in her hand and eased her way to the door. Lifting the wooden latch slowly and silently, she took a deep breath to ready herself, and jerked the door open as she hoisted the hammer above her head with a loud war cry.
The first thing that hit her was a chill burst of cold wind and icy rain to the face. Blinking the water furiously from her lashes, Astrid stared out past her blurry vision. Finding nothing aside from an empty doorway and the distorted shadows of familiar farm equipment awaiting her. With a confused scowl, she lowered the hammer - then jumped again as a small dark shape darted around her legs.
"Ugh, Sneaky! Don't do that," she growled at the cat. Grumbling as she blew her wet bangs out of her face, and shutting the door again with a thump while trying to ignore the hysterical laughter of her brothers. The little black beast - a stray and malnourished kitten that Astrid had taken in 2 years previous and nursed back to health - just plopped herself down on the reed mat next to the fire. Her huge yellow eyes giving Astrid a distinctly smug look, before settling down to lick the rainwater from her fur.
Still muttering angrily under her breath, Astrid set the hammer down and made her way to the table. Taking up a knife instead, she began to slice up some of the freshly harvested carrots and potatoes while Ingrid checked the tenderness of the haunch of meat in the cooking pot. Her mother's lips pursing thoughtfully before adding a few more dried herbs to the simmering gravy.
"So, I ran into Snotlout in town today," Astrid started once her mother had joined her at the table. "Can you believe he actually had the gall to put his hands on me again."
"Oh my," Ingrid pretended to sigh. Grinning mischievously as she grabbed a knife and a small purple tuber. "I hope you didn't hurt him too badly," she added with a wink. "Perhaps I should send you to town again tomorrow with a witch hazel poultice for his bruises. Or better yet, maybe he's the company we should be expecting tonight. He may want to personally check and make sure the wind didn't whisk you away."
Astrid rolled her eyes dramatically, and both women laughed. "You know honey, he's not so bad," her mother hedged after a moment. Astrid shot her a glare of disbelief now, but Ingrid just shrugged her own dainty shoulders. "He is a bit of a bullheaded fool for sure, but he's well off and decent enough looking. He would make a fine husband."
Astrid just snorted at that. "I don't want a fine husband," she shot back with another eye roll. "I want to become a lonely old spinster lady still living on my family farm with my two annoying brothers."
"Hey! We heard that," Fenwick shouted from his spot on the floor. Tripp nodding his grumpy agreement and Ingrid and Astrid laughed again. The two of them making short work of the rest of the vegetables for the soup. Then Ingrid took the cutting board to the cooking pot, while Astrid cleaned up.
As she wiped her hands on her apron, Astrid found her mind wandering again. When she was younger, she had often found herself longing to find a good man to love her like her dad had loved her mom. Her nightly visions, which had seemed so real, would always consist of a tall and handsome stranger that would show up to sweep her off her feet. She knew not what he truly looked like, as her childish imaginings had not seen fit to grant him a face. All she knew was that he had eyes as green as a summer fern, and rode atop a horse as black as midnight. She had only ever dared mention these dreams to Ruffnut once, who had laughed herself silly at the very idea.
Of course Astrid was much more practical nowadays. Although her dark knight still visited her occasionally, she never allowed herself to dwell on such dreams once the morning came. Not while there was work to be done and mouths to be fed. She was lucky to even have what she did, all things considered. Still, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder idly what choice she would make in her mother's place. Would she stick to the lonely, but comfortably familiar, or cast away everything she knew for the terrifyingly unknown?
It was no secret that things had not been easy for her mother, no matter what Ingrid said to the contrary. When her husband had been killed while fighting in the King's army, life had only gotten harder. Ingrid had been left widowed and alone, with three children and a farm to care for. There could be no hope of fair compensation in these times of civil unrest either, as he had been fighting on the side of the Royalists. If Cromwell came through victorious, the Hoffersons would be lucky just to keep their land.
Astrid had been about two and ten years at the time they received word that Ivor Hofferson would never come home. She could vividly remember her mother's quiet strength during those first months. Ingrid had kept her chin up and done what was needed to keep her family afloat. Teaching Astrid the skills she would need to help out, as both of them took on the workload of both man and wife. Ingrid only allowing herself to cry when she thought no one was looking.
The twin brothers Fenwick and Tripp - having come into this world near on ten years after Astrid - had been far too young to understand at the time. Born too soon, they had also been sickly and frail during their early years. Much of what Astrid knew about medicine had come from helping her mother to care for her young brothers. Crushing dried herbs into healing poultices to settle their fevers, or weaving lavender and mint into their bedclothes to soothe their troubled sleep. Thankfully, the twins had eventually grown into strapping young lads. Now eight years, they were like little miniatures of their handsome blonde haired and blue eyed father.
Astrid shook herself out of her thoughts as she grabbed the basket of mending and joined her mother beside the fire. The two of them working in comfortable silence while the boys played with little carved wooden soldiers on the floor. Their play style had gone from fantastical imagining to practical battle strategy over the years, and Astrid couldn't help reminiscing on the short yet sweet years of their innocent youth. The boys had been forced to grow up fast too, after all.
She had lost track of time while she worked. Her mind drifting from thought to thought as she pulled needle through cloth in repetitious fashion. With the windows shuttered, it was impossible to tell if night had properly fallen, though she was sure it must have. Then the quiet of the house was suddenly broken by yet another sound from outside. A sound that was caused by neither wind, nor rain. It was not a scrape this time, but a distinct wrapping - as of knuckles on wood.
Glancing up at her mother, Astrid noted that the older women's brows were furrowed as her lips pursed. Then Ingrid almost seemed to shake herself out of it. "See who it is, will you," she added pointedly to Astrid as they both set their sewing aside. "I need to check the stew anyways."
With a nod, Astrid pushed to her feet. Every nerve on high alert, as her instincts immediately warned her that this was no cat looking to escape the storm. Straightening her dress and bonnet as she made her way across the room, she stopped before the door to take up her trusty mallet again. The knocking coming again, more insistently, and she took a tremulous breath. The hand she settled on the latch though, remained steady. If someone thought to take advantage of these women, they had another thing coming.
Slowly she drew the latch up and swung it aside. Using her forearm to keep the wind from forcing the door open and blinding her with rain again. A part of her almost expecting to find an empty doorway again. Instead, she was met with the form of a tall and slender man silhouetted against the darkness outside. The wide brim of his hat casting a shadow over his face and granting her only a glimpse of a fine Roman nose and shapely lips above a sharply angular jaw.
Everything from the shiny silver buckles on his black riding boots, to the velvety look of his gentleman's hat said that this man was no beggar. Clearly he was a nobleman, and Astrid couldn't for the life of her understand why he would be out in this weather - and on their doorstep of all places. She lowered the mallet and relaxed her stance again, though she remained wary. It would be extremely rude, and possibly even dangerous, to turn him away, but she also wasn't keen on the idea of inviting strange men into their home. Especially on a night like this, when the storm meant that they would be more or less trapped together until the morning.
There was just something about this man though. Some sort of pull that she couldn't quite recognize. It made Astrid feel as if she could trust him, despite him having not spoken a word yet.
"My apologies if I startled you mi'lady," the man started in a gentle tone, and Astrid felt a blush warm her cheeks as she attempted to discreetly hide her weapon behind her skirts. "My companion and I were just travelling along the road and we seem to have gotten caught in the storm. This was the first home that we could find in the dark."
He gestured towards the ground, and Astrid looked down to find a large black wolfhound waiting calmly beside the man's legs. "Might we come in," the man hedged gently. "I assure you, he's quite well behaved."
His polite inquiry promptly reminded Astrid that she was still standing wordlessly in the doorway while he and his dog were standing outside in a windy deluge. Feeling her cheeks turn even redder, she glanced up towards his face. Fully prepared to apologize and already preparing to step aside and welcome him in. At that same moment he lifted his head enough for the light of the fire to sweep away the shadows that had been hiding his features.
The moment she saw his eyes, the words died on her lips. Her fingers slackening with her surprise. The mallet clattered loudly to the floor as she lost her grip on it, as well as on the world around her. Positioned above perfectly cultured cheekbones were the greenest eyes Astrid had ever seen. As green as a summer fern.
Oh my gods, she thought in shock. It's him… Her heart leaping into her throat as a flash of lightning cracked across the sky, followed by a deep roll of thunder that shook the little house to its foundations.
~oOo~
And so it begins…..
Thoughts?
Notes:
- A vardo is the proper name for what is basically a gypsy style covered wagon
- Spiders were originally thought to bring good luck, and killing one was like invoking a curse
- Falling broom = Company's coming (Or expect a visitor of some sort) As someone who comes from a long line of 'witches', I can confirm that this was a thing even before 'Practical Magic' (still such an awesome movie!)
