Kirstie

Kirstie got up one morning and felt anxious all over. She felt afraid she might get some bad news, but she could not think of what it might be. Hilda recovered well. The Witcher Women were happy. None of the elderly in the village were near dying. The world, or at least her part of it was at peace. The farm was in good hands. The sun was shining. Still, Kirstie felt anxious. Something or someone reminded her that trouble came in threes.

Kirstie countered that thought. “Kare is annoying and obnoxious, but he is no trouble. And everything worked out fine for Hilda.” Someone internally said third time is the charm, a word that someone else immediately contradicted with three strikes and you’re out. Kirstie did not have to wait long. She sensed the oncoming dwarfs before they arrived.

Kirstie went outside and glanced at Fiona who was in the cooking area, talking to Yrsa. Yrsa looked up, but Kirstie waved her hand in a way to say stay there and maybe keep Fiona busy. The dwarfs came through the woods and in his way, the dwarf chief Booturn started right up.

“So, we got the word through the trade lanes,” Booturn said before he even stopped moving. “There is a hag in the place they are calling Normandy because so many Northmen have settled there. Some have gone there from Danelaw and Northumbria since the Anglo-Saxons keep pressuring the Danes. Abraxas must have sent the hag with one of those Danelaw groups. The hag is in a village on the sea called Fiscannum. We don’t know if she has already invited Abraxas to come to the continent or not, but it won’t be long before that happens.”

“Damn,” Kirstie said before she jumped. She was so anxious to hear the news, she did not pay close attention to who Booturn brought with him. Her eyes shot to the cooking area. Most of the dwarfs naturally went there first, being attracted to the food. She saw Vortesvin, the big ugly mountain troll there, but saw Fiona talking to the beast with a smile on her face. That was not what she expected. In fact, Fiona talked to the troll and ignored the dwarfs except to make sure they did not snitch any of the roast she was cooking.

“I belong to the Lady Kirstie,” she said.

“So do I,” Vortesvin answered and appeared to smile for her. Wonder of wonders, Fiona did not appear repulsed by the smile.

“I would not say you are one of her little ones,” Fiona said. “More like a big one if you ask me.” she reached out with her good hand and touched the monster on his upper arm which was about the size of her younger son.

“Yes, mum,” Vortesvin agreed. “But you are missing part of your arm, I see.”

“Yes, I am, and my name is Fiona.” Fiona said.

“I’m Vortesvin,” the troll said and reached out to gently touch Fiona’s arm.

Fiona kept her elbow covered so as not to offend. She watched the troll touch the spot and explained. “It got taken by an axe, and a man burned it in the fire until it stopped bleeding. It hurt something awful.”

“May I see it?” Vortesvin asked kindly.

Fiona nodded and unwrapped the cloth she kept tied around it and warned the troll. “It is terribly ugly to look at. About like you.” Fiona smiled. Kirstie saw it once, and that was enough. She nearly threw up.

“Lor, but that looks mean. It must have hurt badly.”

Fiona nodded, and Kirstie turned her eyes back to Booturn since she did not need to intervene around the cooking fire. “Normandy,” she said, and Booturn nodded. “Good thing you are here. The elves and fairies in the woods have been a great help around here, and I am sure you don’t want them to get all the credit and say they are better than the dwarfs.”

Booturn frowned. “What do you want?”

“Two things,” Kirstie said. “First, I want you to make a cup to fit on the end of Fiona’s arm. It should cover the ugly area but be made so she can take it off or put it on as she will.”

“A cup?”

“Like the cup that was made for Father Tyr of the one hand after the wolf Fenrus bit off his hand, but it doesn’t have to be gold or jeweled. Not lead, but Iron maybe, strong.” Kirstie said.

Booturn looked up at the mention of the god Tyr, like he forgot she was counted among the gods of old. He quickly removed his hat and listened closely. “With fingers?” he asked.

“Not long and heavy. Just a cup. But it might have a hook, or maybe two.” She showed with her two fingers. “But blunt, not sharp. Something so she can pick up a pot or hold things in place while she cuts the meat. You know.”

Booturn nodded.

“I have seen your blacksmith shop in the village,” Booturn protested “That is some poor excuse for a furnace.”

Kirstie widened her eyes. She was not aware he had been to the village until he mentioned it. But now she knew that he and several others went to see what sort of weapons the humans were preparing for the battle at the king’s house. Nothing untoward happened so Kirstie was not needed to intervene at that time, so no need for her to know about it. But still… “Maybe you need to go and help Svend build a better furnace. He is a nice man, though. I don’t want you to scare him.”

“I might look again,” Booturn said in a noncommittal way. “What is the other thing?

“I need to borrow your wife for a few seasons. Maybe a few years if she does not mind.”

Booturn slowly smiled at the prospect of being like a bachelor for a few years. Kirstie could practically see the wheels turning in that warped dwarf mind. “I should ask what for.” he said.

“She is a seamstress but works with a loom and needle without a bunch of magic. The local elf ladies have been very kind to keep me, Fiona, and the boys clothed, but I want someone who can work with plain linen and knows how to card and spin wool, now that we have some sheep, and make things, more human things.”

“Human things?” Booturn raised his voice. “She would be insulted by that… but I know what you mean.”

Kirstie thought to explain. “With just one hand, Fiona has a hard time threading the needle and working the loom. Fiona is a good cook, and she can butcher the meat and pluck a chicken just fine, though the boys help. But she needs help with some of the more two handed and delicate tasks. I was thinking Birdie could help, and maybe share a few recipes.” She named Booturn’s wife and Booturn twisted his hat a little as he again remembered that Kirstie was his goddess. He got serious.

“I can see the cup with the fingers will need to be strong and attach in a way that will keep it in place.”

“Yes, please,” Kirstie said, and looked again toward the cooking fire. She saw the troll lean down and Fiona planted a kiss on the troll’s cheek. Wonder of wonders, she swore the troll turned red with embarrassment, but Fiona moved on.

Alm and the boys came around the corner of the barn and Fiona called to him. “Alm. We need to find something to feed our visitors. They must be hungry after their long trip down the mountain.”

The boys stared without the wow, as had become their way, but Alm threw his fists to his hips and gave the dwarfs a stern look. “A troll and a pocket full of dwarfs. They could eat everything on the farm and still be hungry.” The dwarfs nodded and smiled in agreement. Alm smiled for Yrsa as she came to stand beside him. She gave him a peck on the lips. He said, “If Yrsa and the boys fetch their bows and arrows, and maybe if Bucket and Toodles came with us, we might find something in the forest that we could shoot and eat.” Clearly, Alm knew these dwarfs, or some of them anyway.

The boys shouted and raced to get their things. Yrsa already had hers handy. She kept it in her elf slip, a small, invisible pocket not entirely in this world that only she could access. All the same, she chased the boys to make sure they did not break anything in their excitement.

Kirstie imagined Yrsa would make a great mom. She felt glad that everything seemed to be working out so well. She watched as Fiona turned again to Vortesvin. “You are a troll?”

“Mostly.” Vortesvin said and looked down at the ground for fear of how she might react. “My mother was some ogre. They say I got her nose.”

Kirstie watched Fiona return to her cooking and almost smile. “I don’t mind,” Fiona said, and Kirstie thought she better not eavesdrop anymore.

“Booturn,” Kirstie said and glanced at the sky. “We need to go to the village center before it gets any later. I need to introduce you to Svend the blacksmith. Bring Buckles and Tiny. We will see if he is willing to let you help him and maybe teach him a few things about working in metals.”

It turned out Svend had been praying for just this thing. Apparently, he caught sight of the dwarfs when they checked out his shop several years earlier. His apprentice and two workers were wary and not entirely happy, but Kirstie understood that was mostly because the dwarfs were strangers and not necessarily because they were dwarfs.

Booturn explained to Svend about the cup they needed to make. Svend had met Fiona, the whole village had by then, and they found her to be a kind and good person. Svend thought a cup would be a wonderful idea.

Buckles spoke right to task. “We will need to line the cup with fairy weave, much as I hate depending on the elves for the cloth.”

“Fairy weave?” Svend asked.

“Made by the elves of the wood. It has magical properties,” Booturn told him, and Kirstie thought he deserved a better explanation.

“It does not stain, always stays fresh and clean, and it absorbs sweat and will push the moisture out, so it always stays dry. It will keep her arm warm in the winter and cool in the summer, so the cup will not be a burden.

“Not iron though,” Tiny said and pulled on his beard. “We don’t want it to rust up in a few years.”

“Need a better furnace for real steel,” Buckles agreed. “One that can get really hot.”

“Hot as hell,” Tiny agreed and Kirstie explained again, though Svend was not a Christian to exactly understand.

“That is just an expression. He isn’t literally talking about hell.” Svend imagined Hella’s place for the dead, but he accepted the expression as just that. Kirstie turned to Booturn. “I need to find a ride to Normandy. I am sure you will work things out equitably.” She turned back to Svend. “If the dwarfs give you any trouble, just let me know when I get back. And don’t let them eat all your food. They are always hungry, so if you feed them… Well, just don’t let them eat you out of house and home.” She turned back to Booturn. “Make sure you take good care of Fiona and the boys. I’ll want my farm to be there and prospering when I get back.”

“Don’t you worry,” Booturn spoke loudly, “We will take care of everything while you are gone.”

Kirstie mumbled softly as she walked away. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”