Kirstie

As soon as they arrived at the house, Yrsa ran off to the woods, presumably to see her father. She came back a week later with an elf named Alm and declared that she was married. At the same time, Mariwood and Buttercup never seemed to be apart, and never came around when Kirstie might need them. Kirstie sighed and first thought she might like to have a boyfriend, but not Kare. Certainly not that jerk.

The elves of the wood took good care of her home while she was away. They brought in the harvest and sold most of it, using Inga as an intermediary. They kept the pigs. Her sow had a litter of six while she was away, and Kirstie swore the piglets ate everything they could reach. Kirstie looked at her pregnant friend Hilda and said Hilda was getting fat like her pig. Hilda probably put on a bit too much weight, but Hilda just smiled and chewed.

The elves of the wood also took care of her three cows. One calved shortly after she got home, and that was good. The cow provided plenty of milk which the elves turned mostly into cheese to preserve it. Kirstie had no complaints, but at the same time, she understood that it was not fair to depend on the elves of the woods. That was a great kindness to her, but that was not their job. She needed to live in her human village and work out her own place in her human world, and the elves needed to do their own work in the spiritual world.

Inga came to visit often enough, and she generally got her hair braided when she visited. “Otherwise, my hair tends to frizz and stick out in every direction it can,” she complained before she added. “Although, having it wild and frizzy works for Buttercup, if I should see the fairy again.”

Kirstie nodded to things, generally. “Mine is thick and stays straight with no curl at all.” They started toward the village. Kirstie had an errand and dressed in her armor, though the weapons were not so prevalent, and she asked, “Why is it women always want the kind of hair that they don’t have?”

“Women want everything that they don’t have,” Inga said and smiled. “So, you are a woman now?”

Kirstie nodded. “Close enough at fifteen.”

Inga smiled. “I still see you as the wild child I used to chase around the village, trying to keep you out of trouble.”

Kirstie kept on nodding. “I’m still wild. And still growing.” She wanted to complain. “I’m fifteen but already tall for a woman, taller than some men.”

“Maybe you will get as tall as Kare. Then, as you say, you can tell him to stuff it.”

Kirstie grinned before she frowned. “I had a nightmare about him. But what about you? You must be twenty-one or two. Isn’t there anyone you are interested in? You are pretty enough. I am sure any man in the village would be glad to have you to wife.”

Inga looked at Kirstie and shook her head softly. “Mother Vrya keeps me very busy. Besides, I will have to be there when Hilda has her baby.”

“I’m worried about her eating so much,” Kirstie said. “She does not have to put on so much weight. She will never get it off again.”

Inga agreed. “I have talked to her about that, but she says she is eating because she is so happy. It makes her happy.”

“There is an excuse if I ever heard one,” Kirstie responded. “Women eat because they are happy, and they eat because they are sad. I would guess the only time women will stop eating might be if they stopped feeling anything at all.”

“That will never happen,” Inga said.

“Never happen,” Kirstie agreed.

They walked toward the docks and Inga asked a question. “So, what is this journey you are taking? The spring has arrived. Shouldn’t you be worried about getting your fields planted?”

Kirstie shook her head. “My sheep are due to arrive and my friends in the woods have agreed to watch them, but that is really asking too much of them. Rune, Frode, and my friend Thorsten all said they would send men to get the fields planted, but I need to make a better arrangement. The men I hired are building a two-room servant’s home. They have expanded the pig pen to accommodate all the piglets for when they grow, and turned old Bjorn the Bear’s sleeping quarters into a real chicken coop. They are also building two large fenced in areas beside the barn. on either side, one for the sheep and one for the cows. I hope this trip will find something more permanent so when the word comes, and I have to sail off, I can know my home will be cared for.”

“You will be sailing again?”

“It is only a matter of time. I don’t expect Abraxas to give up.”

They stopped by the docks. “I worry about you, you know.”

“Feeling all motherly?” Kirstie smiled.

“No. Yes. But I worry about these hags as you describe them. I saw the body of Chief Birger after the King’s house. A bear could not have done a better job of ripping the poor man to shreds.” Inga looked around and lowered her voice. “Buttercup explained to me how you are a goddess to the spirits of the earth. I understood better when you went away, and Elgar came from the past to stand in your place. Elgar lived in the past, did he not?” Kirstie nodded, so she continued. “But I do not like the idea of you fighting one of the gods. That thought frightens me to no end.”

Kirstie kept the smile, though it was perhaps not so pointed. “Especially since in this life I am just an ordinary human.”

Inga almost smiled herself. “Graced and empowered by Njord and Fryer, and who knows who else.”

“No one else at this time. The gods have all gone over to the other side, and this Abraxas needs to join them. He has been given two chances. First, the Nameless god threw him out of all the lands of Aesgard. And second, the gods agreed. Junior Amun threw him out of the Middle East and from the ancient lands of Karnak and Luxor in Egypt and North Africa. Amphitrite, queen of the seas threw him out of her waters, including the Atlantic and every sea connected to the ocean, and as the last Olympian, she threw him out of the lands of Olympus. Danna, the mother goddess of the Celts threw him off the continent, so he only has the big islands in the west for his home. He must stop interfering with the natural course and development of the human race, and he is supposed to find the courage to give up this life and go over to the other side. He is not supposed to be trying to find ways to come here or come back to the continent. He should not be making hags to do his dirty work.”

“He must die?” Inga tried to understand.

Kirstie nodded. She did not mind telling the volve in training. “It is like dying. He must let go of his flesh and blood and return to being the pure spirit he actually is.”

Inga shook her head, so Kirstie explained as well as she could.

“A pure spirit has no eyes to see nor ears to hear. It has no hands to touch the earth. The sun still shines. The wind still blows, but the gods no longer have the ability to see or feel what they are doing. They are directed now by the Most High God, the source of all.” Kirstie pulled out her little cross and held it tightly in her hand. “Maybe God will be gracious to help me find the help I need.”

Inga could nod for that. “Good luck,” she said, and Kirstie hugged her motherly friend and climbed aboard the Red Herring, a karve ready to sail north into the fjord. The next day, the Red Herring returned with nails and other goods for the village, and Kirstie returned with Fiona, a woman in her mid-thirties, and her two sons named after the saints in Northumbria, Oswald and Edwin.