Weighing the weapon in her hand, Svea bounced it once. The dark, cool iron registered in her mind before the coldness seeped into her skin. The first thing she noted was that it lacked balance.
Iron. The most common of metals for an axe. Good enough for a first axe. Too broad however, better suited for cutting wood than for cleaving an enemy. Was he just after a weapon or was he scammed?
Instead of voicing these concerns or opinions, she smiled. "A good choice for your first weapon. Go, set up targets. I need to stitch Dragmall again, then he will make us supper." she teased the words, sending Leif off with a grin, then steering Dragmall back inside.
She worked the needle through his flesh once more, the fire sterilizing the needle before each stitch. A flicker of mischief warmed her eyes as his little sounds of pain escaped. "Hunting in your condition was foolish. Although thoughtful," she murmured.
"You'll find I'm a better cook than thinker," Dragmall replied with a low chuckle. The way he poised his speech had gotten comfortable as he had spoken with his neighbors more and more. He shifted as she stitched, then braced himself. "Which is why. . . I must ask. Why do you spend so much time with Leif?"
Her brow arched, "Why? Are you jealous?" she asked, smothering her laugh.
"Yes," he said, shameless and immediate. He opened his mouth as if to say more but swallowed the rest, waiting instead for her to deny him, allowing silence to take its place instead. He wanted to spare himself another moment. It was during the last few weeks when they would banter, or farm together, that he found himself missing her company even before either of them left the others side.
Svea pursed her lips, focusing on her needlework. Pinching his skin a bit tighter than necessary. "I fed him when he was lost and starving. Now he lingers, eager to protect the village. In my eyes, he is like a son."
"Isn't he only a few years younger than you?"
"Physically, yes." She smirked. "Consider that he has not yet been scarred by the world. In that way, he is still a boy."
"And you have?" Dragmall asked, his voice quieter.
Svea shrugged.
It seemed too much to give him the story of her life. "I know enough of the world to know I need nothing more than what I have." She exhaled.
She knew strife was no enemy with her name alone for it visited every soul in time. She could take comfort in what she had, she didn't need to reach further. Any time she had, she had been reminded the plans of the nine realms were far greater than her.
Dragmall relaxed, his shoulders loosening. "I am satisfied being a farmer. So many crave treasure or fame. I prefer soil. Farming is steady, it makes sense. It has honor. I'll fight if I must but I would rather end my days with land to till, like my parents before me."
Svea's hands softened as she wiped away the blood from the stitches. "Is that so?" She flicked her braid back over her shoulder, dipping her hands in water collected in a basin to wash them. "I believe I'd be happy farming too. I've seen enough gore, felt enough of survival's rush. I prefer my animals, my land. I am not blind though. Leif must train."
She rose, taking her axe in hand. "Happy cooking," she called as she went out to the yard. Following the fenced in portion of her farm, inspecting the small training section Leif had created. She adjusted a few of the targets.
Together, she and Leif practiced throws and swings until sweat darkened his tunic and his shoulders ached. She steadied his shield, sparring with him lightly, laughing as he tried to crack the wooden defense. She had warned him he would need to find the balance with his weapon, to get used to its weight. Once he did, he would need to learn to move the muscles it took to swing the axe, to take a life. Rubbing his shoulder, he quietly held in his complaints of soreness from the burden of the repetitive motions from the muscles he was discovering.
Dragmall joined them before long, and the three trained until dusk. Once dinner was ready, they ate together. When the table was cleared and Leif had gone, Dragmall lingered by her door. His smile was sad. "I've overstayed, haven't I? I'll find a place to build tomorrow. Leif offered his home to me for few nights, but. . ."
Caught off guard by the abrupt change, Svea blinked quickly a few times. She nodded, accepting his words though reluctance was weighing her chest.
"Do you need me gone tonight?" he asked gently as he saw her body's response to his announcement.
He had hoped that Svea had come to enjoy his company, or could at least tolerate him as a friend if nothing more. He hadn't expected her to want him gone sooner than that.
Svea shook her head quickly, "No, I was only used to you being here."
"I'll remain in the village."
Svea gathered their plates, rinsing her hands in the basin, circling the table to check nothing remained. Her voice was almost gone when it came: "Stay."
She didn't want to stay more. She just wanted him to understand.
After losing so many, with all the changes in her village, she wanted something, someone, constant. She hadn't felt calm or even happy in so long. Fear that it could walk out her door was too much.
"Alright," Dragmall replied softly. "Thank you. I'll leave tomorrow."
She shook her head again. "Stay," she repeated, straighter now. "Tonight. Tomorrow. Longer."
A blush rose as she rubbed the back of her neck, caught in his stare.
"Stay?" he mused, stepping closer. His voice lowered. "As your guard dog. . . or with you?"
Svea lifted her hand, brushing back the loose strands of his hair, her fingers curling against the line of his jaw. She swallowed. She didn't understand why words her mind hadn't even thought of yet could slip out of her so easily. It puzzled her more that her heart seemed so in tune with the request. "With me."
And then her lips pressed to his.
Stay.
With me.
Whatever the gods will mean.
We will discover it together.