A/N: Review Responses are in my forums as normal. As a reminder, the Forum is called Infinite and Divine. And with this chapter, I had to do some creative interpretation of GRRM's take on abductions as a means of marriage among the free folk.
Chapter Nine: The Fates I Fathom, Yet Farther I see
"Sister, you will come?"
It was a command, a question and a prayer all in one. Taylor looked up from the fire she shared with the White Tree group in the camping grounds their first night at Ruddy Hall and saw Mother Mele staring intently at her.
The rheumy old eyes glanced at Morag. "And that one as well. She's been Touched." Unspoken was the thought that it was Taylor's divinity that touched her.
Usha stiffened. "Truly, Mother Mele?"
"Won't hurt to see, now, will it?"
The ancient gaze returned to Taylor. "You'll come?"
The woman's faith burned bright. Taylor stood but left her sleeping roll with the others. She offered a hand to Morag, who stood with a nervous smile to her mother.
The land around Ruddy Hall was littered with small fires for the clans and villages of Free Folk who made their way to the blot. There was singing, and dancing and a plethora of children being conceived. She'd heard from one of the woman that children conceived at a blot brought good fortune to their families.
Despite the Free Folk practice of men "stealing" wives, the thefts were usually agreed upon by the parents beforehand. The girls being stolen were expected to fight hard against those they favored. The fastest way to end a potential union was for a girl to come alone in sullen quietude. Just in their two days at the Blot, Taylor saw a stolen girl returned to her family because she didn't fight back.
They made their way across the grounds toward the corrals where the two Mammoths slept on their feet, and beyond that to a large domed tent made of thick hide. It had a partitioned entryway secured with a large hide flap.
The space within was lit by a long reed dipped in fat and burning like a weak candle. The floor was filled with furs wrapped in bundles. Almost immediately Mother Mele began to strip. Taylor bit back her alarm and glanced at Morag, who shrugged and began doing the same.
"Within are only our sisters," Mele said as she pulled off furs that revealed a stout, barrel-like body lined with scars and wrinkles from births and hardships past. "The strongest of us know you, Telos. We dreamt of you in the trees."
The faith within the woman burned bright; her soul spoke of acceptance. Taylor nodded, and fought back her nervousness as she pulled her stolen Crow clothes off.
But Mele was not content with that. "You do not need the blindfold, Sister. Nothing said or seen within will be spoken of without."
So Taylor removed the thick leather blindfold. Mele stared at her with a beatific smile, then clapped her hands. "Come."
They stepped into a sauna.
Twenty or so women ranging in age from Morag's to Mele's sat on leather mats around a fire lined with large river stones. Toward the back was a large wooden barrel filled with water where the heated stones were dropped to make steam. Mixed with the steam Taylor smelled burned pine needles and…a hallucinogen of some kind?
Mele, having led the way in, stared intently about the circle. "Sisters, let no sight seen, word spoken or thought had leave this room. We have been blessed. This is Telos of the Trees."
They all stood from their mats and approached. Taylor went perfectly still, remembering her return to Arcadia High School right after she destroyed the neo-Nazi Empire-88 group. She sensed no anger in any of those around her, just wonder.
She said nothing as hands touched her. She felt hands tracing her protective runes or the scars where her wings once were, and others came close to the terrible burn on her back that never healed. Fortunately, no one actually touched it.
Mother Mele took Taylor's hand and led her to a spot right in front of the fire. She settled down cross-legged, and only then did other women settle. One used cleverly carved branches to remove a rock from the fire and place it in the barrel to generate a fresh cloud of steam.
Though Taylor's markings from her mother's protections were the most striking body symbols, her body was not the only one to bear symbols or tattoos. Most of the women bore either body paint, or henna tattoos of various symbols. Into the atmosphere of steam, drugs and pine incense, Mother Mele began to sing.
It was not the language that Morag and the other people spoke. It was an older language–the first language of man spoken on these shores. The song itself was in the ancient style–a rhythmic chant accompanied by claps. The only inflection was on the beats, and the words droned together.
And yet Taylor understood the meaning, for Mother Mele was singing about the history of the Free Folk. She sang of the Ancestor's first great sin–the murder of the Weirwood trees and the war that resulted with the children of the forests. Taylor could see the war not just through the song, but through the divinity of the trees themselves that ran so very close to the surface in this valley.
Peace was made, and the Ancestors abandoned their old gods to worship those of the Children. A peace was had that lasted many centuries until the Long Night Came.
Taylor watched through the magic of the trees and Mother Mele's voice as demons of ice raised the dead as their servants and swept down from the frozen north to destroy everything in their path. All the tribes and clans of the First Men joined with giants, the children of the forest and the gods themselves to fight against the demonic army.
Taylor had no doubt of the truth of it because the trees themselves showed her. In the aftermath of that terrible battle, that saw two out of every three humans in the entire land dead, one of the last wizard-kings of the humans worked with the Children and the giants to build the wall.
They did not build it brick by brick. Instead they crafted massive lodestones that pulled the heat from the air, and positioned them across the continent at the narrowest point. The currents of the ocean and the storms of the sky built the wall because of the intensely localized cold. In its first century it was little more than a ledge, one easily jumped over. The tribes of the First Men thought nothing of it.
Centuries passed and the wall grew. Gates were shaped to allow for the free passage from the north and south.
Then the Andals–the hated Andals with their new gods and intolerance and their seven-pointed stars–came and made war. They swept aside the kings of the first men far to the south, pushing further north. Their influence led to the gates being reinforced with castles, and travel through the wall grew harder. Taxes were imposed that those in the north refused to pay. Those whose task it was to protect against future Long Nights grew miserly in their duties, and began to view those of the north in the same light as the Others.
More war was had, the wall was closed, and the First Men of the far north were cut off from their Southern kin.
The song ended in a lament for Raymun Redbeard, the last great King Beyond the Wall. When she was done, easily an unbroken hour of singing, all the woods witches within the sauna turned to study Taylor.
"Sing us your story, Telos of the Trees," Mele said. She panted from the exertion of her song.
"Very well," Taylor said. And so she sang in the same language, of the birth of humanity and the first gods of Earth. She sang of the rise of the Vanir and Aesir, and the terrible war that saw her mother exiled. She sang of the gods of ancient Greece and the lost son they sharpened into a new god of war.
As Taylor sang, the fire in the center of the room flickered with images from her soul and magic. Of her father fighting Zeus and tearing down Olympus; of her mother presenting herself as a god-child of fourteen to the already aged and bitter Odin.
She sang of her parent's first meeting, and of their eventual marriage. When she sang of Scion, some of the younger woods witches cried out when the dead, golden eyes of the monster's avatar took shape in the flame. Her birth and childhood enthralled them; the battle that she led against Scion and his servants left them breathless with tears in their eyes.
But then her song brought her to Sennecherib, and the demons that surrounded him. Of her agony at the terrible rebirth, and the flash of blinding light that brought her to these lands.
She sang of meeting Flurry, and of how the weirwoods welcomed her as their kin and gifted her a staff. And finally of her meeting her new sisters at Ruddy Hall.
Twenty pairs of eyes stared at her in wonder when she finished. Mother Mele spoke into the silence. "I dream of this one, in the tree's embrace. Spread the word to all the land, Sisters. Wolf Hall is a holy place. No violence can be done there."
The assent came in their silence. Then the old woman grunted. "Bera, bring the herbs. We have a new bespoke sister among us, and so we teach the wisdom to her."
She didn't look at Taylor now, but at the wide eyed, slightly intoxicated Morag.
They continued throughout the entire night without fear of interruption. None of the Free Folk would think to interrupt a sabbat of woods witches. The entire night was spent teaching–not just Morag, but the other young initiates as well. Taylor watched and recognized almost all the plants and herbs spoken off. It was a crash-course on healing for the next generation of Free Folk woods witches.
~~Voluspa~~
~~Voluspa~~
They spent a week at the blot. Taylor had no problems with Kingsblood or Redbeard after their encounter, but that was mainly because the wood witches dominated her time. The women spent every night in their sauna, and every day teaching the young apprentices about the various herbs and potions.
The older witches taught the younger through simple cantrips, rhymes or songs. Though the Free Folk never developed much in the way of field medicine, the wood witches had a thorough understanding of the healing properties of the herbs and plants of the great forest that dominated the livable spine of the lands beyond the wall. And the songs and rhymes were a way to pass on the knowledge without the benefit of writing.
Mother Mele or some of the other old witches sang myths or legends about how certain teas or poultices saved heroes from their past; or how the Children of the Forest taught them which plants could cure, and which could kill.
Taylor took the opportunity to discuss the tiny spirits that filled the world and their bodies, and how cleanliness could sometimes help keep the bad spirits at bay. She had a good example with one young man who stole his chosen mate. The woman was so thrilled with the arrangement, and was so large and muscular, that in the traditional fight she nearly beat the snot out of the young man. Given that she was actually bigger than her new mate was, Taylor had no doubt the young woman would bear many large, healthy children.
Because of the sheer violence of the tussle, Taylor had a chance to show the other wise women how to use boiled water to clean a wound. The Free Folk had no distillation–they lacked the metal or metal working to do such–but even boiled water would help. She boiled a bone needle and the sheep gut string and sowed the wound up.
Mother Mele prepared a traditional poultice with steamed, ground birch bark, witch hazel leaves, Weirwood sap and honey. She slathered it over the long cut the young man's new wife made on his thigh, and then wrapped it in a boiled cotton cloth.
"The poultice is as old as my whole tribe," Mother Mele said when they were done. "But to sow up the cut is new. As is the cleaning. We will see if infection sets in."
She glanced up at Taylor. "You could have healed it entirely."
The young man looked alarmed at the idea.
"I could," Taylor admitted. "Scar and all. This seemed better."
The young man nodded desperately, too overawed to actually speak. Mother Mele chuckled and patted the young man's sparse attempt at a beard. "You have a good scar to show your woman's love, Jabet, no fears. Go on, now."
The young man left, and the gathering of woods witches who watched his healing broke up, save for Mother Mele, Morag and Taylor in the witch's tent.
When the others left, glancing back as they did so, Mother Mele patted Morag on the shoulder. "The trees whispered to me last night. That boy Doji, from the River Bend Clan. He aims to steal you."
Morag stiffened and blinked up at the old witch, then to Taylor. "The big one?"
Mother Mele nodded. "You're a spoken sister of the trees now, child. The gods have claimed you through Telos. You have a talent for it, more'n most. You need to stay with Telos. If the boy steals you, he'll be coming with you to White Tree."
Morag sputtered. "But…but…Telos ain't no witch. She's a god!"
The old woman laughed. "Think I don't know that, child? She sees our souls; the trees sing her praises. Mother Dola and Mother Selli both know, too. The others'r too young to hear proper; to understand. But Telos, here–her hand's on you. You stay in White Tree and learn from her. All your children will be healthy and strong. 'Cause Telos ain't like the Old Gods, or the Others. Can't you see? She loves us. You stay with her, you'll be blessed."
"You know I'm sitting right here," Taylor noted.
The old woman laughed, showing stained, rotted teeth. "And if I were wrong, you'd strike me down."
The woman wasn't wrong. "Fine, if I'm going to be her patron, I want to see this boy. Does Usha know?"
Mele cackled. "Oh, she does."
They left the tent. Mother Mele, barely reaching Taylor's navel, led the way across the grounds toward one of the many fields where older men and women were teaching the younger to fight with the primary weapon of the north–the stone-tipped spear.
Taylor was surprised to find many of the village matrons nearby, watching and talking to each other. Usha stood among them, watching one boy in particular. She saw them approach and ducked her head in greeting. "Mother Mele. It's true then, Morag is to be claimed as a sister?"
"Telos blessing is a gift, daughter," the old witch said. "All White Tree will be the better for it." She turned to Taylor. "Doji is the tall one, with the black hair and cheeks the color of a winter rose."
Taylor sought the boy out, and had to blink.
He looked like a young Gallant–handsome almost to the point of being pretty, with a thick mop of uncut black hair that hung to his shoulders. He had only the bare beginnings of a beard–a few wisps on his lip and sideburns. His truth hinted at seventeen years of life. For all that, the boy was a head taller than most of the men, with powerful broad shoulders.
He didn't have a man's strength yet, and had that clumsiness that came after a rapid growth spurt, but Taylor saw that he was going to be among the larger and stronger of his people. It was his soul she was interested in, though.
Doji of Riverbend lived for the hunt. He'd been praised by his mother for helping feed their many, many siblings. Riverbend had six families, and he had four other brothers. They were rich in children, which meant he would not be as badly missed. But because of that early praise for his ability to provide, it had formed the core of his existence.
He glanced over his shoulder at Morag, and went suddenly clumsy like a colt, just in time for his older opponent to sweep his legs.
Taylor bit back a grin and looked at Usha who beamed back at her. "His soul is good," Taylor told her. "Do you know the Riverbend Clan?"
Usha nodded. "That's where Shaen stole me from. I grew up with Doji's pa."
The two looked back to Morag, who continued to stare with blazing cheeks. "He's clumsy," she said finally.
~~Voluspa~~
~~Voluspa~~
The Free Folk did not have marriages, not like anything Taylor thought of. They did not have any written laws. They were fiercely, almost idiotically independent at times, and never was that more obvious than in the ritualistic abduction that served in lieu of a Free Folk marriage.
Taylor had to pretend to sleep when Doji loudly, and clumsily "snuck" into the White Tree camp, grabbed Morag about the waist and threw her over his shoulder. He managed to get about ten feet before she kneed him in the sternum. The two tumbled into the mud, where they proceeded to fight.
There was no doubt that Doji could have easily hurt Morag. Though he was like a tall, clumsy colt, he still towered a foot taller than Morag and out massed her by eighty pounds easily. He could pick her up and toss her around like a doll. But what he didn't do was hit her.
Morag, on the other hand, fought like a demon possessed her. She punched, kicked and screamed. She split the boy's lip and gave him a black eye; she slapped him and shouted and kicked and raised a storm.
The poor boy was completely unprepared for the ferocity of her defense, but at the same time Taylor could see a small kernel of joy blossoming in his chest.
Morag's sheer ferocity meant she wasn't opposed to the match. He finally ended the fight by spinning her around and picking her up like a bag of potatoes with her arms locked to her sides and her flailing legs facing away, and carried her into the night.
"Free Folk are so strange," Taylor said.
Usha chuckled. "I hope Birs' woman puts up as good a fight."
~~Voluspa~~
~~Voluspa~~
The next day, the two camps came together to celebrate the match. Redbeard himself made his way out of Ruddy Hall to share a barrel of ale with the families. Mother Mele was the one to break the news that Morag was a bespoke sister, a witch in training for the Free Folk. It brought Doji's family great esteem, but they also realized it meant their oldest son would have to join her.
Redbeard's ale and three other healthy sons helped them get over the loss.
As the two mothers arranged things for the newly joined teenagers (Morag's cheeks glowed the entire time), the old lord of Ruddy Hall sought Taylor out.
"I took a good long piss last night," he declared happily. "Gave my woman a good fuck, like we haven't for years. Mother Mele tells me I want you as a friend, not an enemy. And after watching you throw my son across the valley, I believe her. I had my woman pick the two best sheep of our flock for breeding. They're yours when you leave. I made sure my old friend Shaen's son got a good trade for his lambs as well."
"Thank you," Taylor said, thinking perhaps the Free Folk could be a little less honest with each other.
"You'd make a fine prize, Telos," the old man said. "For his faults, my son is strong. He'd make you a good man."
"My father told me I couldn't have a man before I was a hundred years old," Taylor said with all seriousness. "I'll honor his memory and wait."
The Lord of Ruddy Hall stared a moment before laughing. "A hundred years old? Your Pa must have hated you."
Taylor shrugged. "He was over two thousand years old when he joined my mother, and she was even older. What's a century to my kind?"
"Two thousand, eh?"
Taylor smiled at the man and shrugged. "I'm in no hurry. He'll find his woman, and she'll deliver good, strong children for him."
That very night, Birs snuck into the camp of the Two Trees village and stole away a girl half a year older than he was. The tall, willowy girl had an inch on him, even if he was twice her weight. She put up a respectable fight as well, and with both the young, eligible members of White Tree paired and their trades complete, they started back.
Taylor claimed the two breeding sheep that Redbeard gifted her by touching their simple animal spirits. The hard part was convincing Flurry not to eat them.
The week-long journey back to White Tree was a time for Doji to adjust to his new clan and family. He suddenly became the oldest of the next generation of the family, since Birs as the oldest boy of Old Shaen's grandsons was two years younger. He was the tallest and strongest of the men, even the adults, and was a very big eater.
He hovered protectively over Morag, bearing the wounds she gave him with pride like a bride in Taylor's world would a wedding ring. Morag, for her part, just seemed startled by the whole affair. Taylor knew better than to ask if she was happy. But she didn't seem unhappy, which was as much as a Free Folk bonding could hope for.
On the third night of their journey, Usha and Shaen stayed awake after the young members of the village and the eldest drifted off to sleep. Nearby, Flurry was eating a wild boar he found in the forest while watching the sheep that they were leading back.
Into this quiet, Usha spoke. "Mother Mele has said that Wolf Hall is a Holy Place. Is Morag to stay there?"
The question surprised Taylor. "I thought she and Doji were to go with you."
Usha glanced at her husband. The politics of the Free Folk were an interesting dynamic. It appeared where the family was concerned, Usha had as much or more say as Shaen himself. "We've not built a home for them, and I'm worried about getting enough food for winter. The boy eats as much as Shaen and I together. We planned on Birs bringing home a woman; we didn't plan on Morag bringing home a man, even if he is a good one."
Taylor considered the woman's dilemma. Technically, Morag was Taylor's apprentice. Her hall was a full day's walk from White Tree, and that would make teaching her difficult.
There was more in the woman's request, though, than just a fear of too many mouths to feed.
Decision made, Taylor removed her blindfold and regarded the couple with her Bifrost eyes. Usha's breath caught in her throat, while Shaen paled to bone.
"These were not the eyes I was born with," she told them. "I had a heavy fate to save my people, and so put out my natural eyes. With the bifrost crystals, I can see for many miles even through forests. I can see through my blindfold easily. But I can also see the truth of a person. You took me into your village and shared your food with me. You showed me kindness. While I am in this forest, you and your kin will never starve. Even if I have to sing the crops up from the ice, I swear you will never starve."
She glanced back to where Morag slept almost enveloped in Doji's protective embrace. She wore a little smile as she slept. "I will teach her more than just herbs. I will place blessings on her to ensure her children are born whole and hale. I will do the same for any who come seeking it. If you wish Morag and Doji to come, they'll be welcome at Wolf Hall. We'll just have to build them a house."
Usha wiped a tear from her eye. "Thank you, Telos. For healing my good sister; for blessing our crops."
The woman's faith blazed in the back of Taylor's mind. "White Tree will flourish, Usha. Because you blessed me with good company."