Unbound

Hilda smiles shyly at Veln. The girl is slim and pale, as though she maybe eats too little, but she doesn't seem acutely ill. Veln also doesn't sense anything malignant about her. "I like the dark," she whispers to him. "They can't see me in the dark." "She's seven," Godwin tells Beorn with an affectionate chuckle. "She likes to play games." "They're not games, daddy!" Hilda insists indignantly, sticking out her tongue.

Veln blinks, confused by her answers. He looks up at Beorn to see if he has anything to say or ask, then back at the girl. "Who are... they?" He cannot feel anything, the foul sweetness and stickiness of the tar is nowhere around that girl and must be a fortunate sign. "When we arrived and your pa greet us, we saw no one else around these parts."

"The shadows, silly," Hilda tells Veln in the sing-song voice of a child. "They only come out in the light."

Veln's warm smile had slowly worn off from his face. He slowly stands up, looking up at Beorn for advice. He doesn't know what to say, or at least nothing comes to his mind that would make things better.

Alric, the druid, is on his knees near the center of the farmer's fields. As time passes, he mutters incantations to alert the Earth of his incoming intrusion. After clearing a small circle of weeds and creating several markings with a stick, Alric places his hands on the field's dry, hard dirt. What would the Earth take from him for this gift? A bead of sweat falls to the dry Earth and settles for just a moment before being absorbed.   No turning back now. They know I am here.  Alric pushes down with his palms against the Earth. Usually, he would have felt the Earth push back with equal force. Not after his ritual, however: Alric had opened the gateway between man and Earth. The hard, dry Earth gives way and pulls Alric elbow deep into the dirt. The crops around the circle, previously blowing in the slight breeze, reach towards the druid trapped in the Earth. No longer swaying to and fro, the plants have found their new source of energy - their battery for the season from which they will be fed - and they wish not to lose it. The roots from the field's ill and troubled plants stretch beneath the surface towards Alric. Their cold, wet roots wrap around his wrists and restrain him from leaving. The tips squirm like earthworms into his forearms, claiming his tendons as their own. The pain is sharp, but no scream is heard: the crops have taken hold over Alric, who appears to be kneeling over the ground, saying a silent, simple prayer to any onlooker farther away. To those closer, they see that the field has control over the druid and is both hungry and primeval. The Earth has come to feed.  "What do you ask of us?"  Alric does not so much hear the voices as much as feels them. The field of many plants speaks as one; the roots plucking his muscles and veins as though it is an instrument. "These Men need a successful harvest, or they lose much. Please, take pity on them."   Alric didn't know the situation specifically, but the Earth had little concern for Men. If he did not bargain well, the price would be steep. "This is not given freely. These Men are not like you. They do not ask what is needed. They prod and plant and take. We are punishing them." "I care for them."   He was lying.  "Please, I can pay for passage. Our deal remains one harvest for a harvest." A minute passes. Then five. Then twenty. Alric, a man of great constitution, had passed out from the pain of the roots piercing his arms and torso. After an hour, the roots squeeze Alric back awake. "We accept." Alric's eyes widened. If there was still a world that existed above the Earth - a world of trees and birds and man - it was no longer evident to Alric. For the next five hours, the field and the plants feasted on Alric's life-force: a sweet taste that enabled great power but came at a cost. Six. This was the sixth harvest Alric had empowered, which meant this would be one less harvest Alric would see before the Earth reclaimed him. His end was closer now than it was before.

Beorn closes his eyes in prayer. He mutters quietly, unsure of how such things would be taken but confident that none here would understand him, "Pater noster, qui es in caelis: beati qui ámbulant in lumine tuo, et facies opera tua. Nunc peto opem implorent voluntatem Patris vestri semita. Hoc enim timeo. A morbidi pecudis in ovibus offerrent. Et manus tua deducet me misericordias beati. Amen" . He listens for a minute and while the almighty did not see fit to use him directly, he sensed the blessing within him.  He opens his eyes and moves his hands in an elaborate dances as if to test the child's attention. In truth he was channeling the blessing.  The weave was His Sight of Revelations .  His eyes remained the same but sweat formed from his brow as if hard at toil. The world seems to fade to a gray, the shadows deepening, and the color draining from life itself. "Spin for me once." he says to the girl and her parents - motioning a part of the weave to include the area around.  The land outside of the beckons to Beorn, probably the druid works Alric was performing, but that was not the bright purple and white light that Beorn eyes fell upon the doll in the spinning girls arms.  It was ensorcered  A headache pulls at his skull as it struck by an axe.  A side effect to the lord's power.   'Man is not meant for such things.'  he says to himself.   He closes his eyes and he can feel the gift subsiding.  Opening them, the surround appears normal again. The pain subsides after a moment.  He looks to Godwin, "I must ask. How long has she been in this way?"    He was ready to compare the doll's existence with her symptoms but that might invite the young girl's anger so it was better to take the patient approach.  It wasn't harming her in a direct manner obviously so he could continue that part of the cure after speaking with Veln and Alric in private. Latin: Our father who art in heaven, blessed are those walk in your light and do your service.  I ask now for guidance in the path of your will.  I fear for this little one.  A sickly sheep in your flock.  Guide me and my hands for your blessed mercies.  Amen.

"Many seasons," Godwin answers quietly. "She shies from the sun and what food we have brings her little strength."

"Have you taken her to a wise woman before?" Veln inquires, still casting a concerned look at Beorn, also eager to confine in private once they heard enough. Beorn's whispers are intelligible for him except for a word or two, old words that he had heard his uncle read to him on granite slabs across their travel. He doesn't understand their meaning.

"We brought her to the baths," Godwin explains. "The waters have healing power, but she would not enter them."

Veln signs and nods back to Godwin, confirming what he said. He tries to sense around himself, only feeling the soft agitation in her parents that he can see as well. He looks down at the girl and smiles at her, but his smile is troubled. "We will be here for a while, Hilda. Come and play with us. The sun smiles upon all pretty things like you." Not waiting for an answer from her he nods to her family and then turns to walk out hopeful that Beorn would follow. Once outside, Veln waits for Beorn and the rubs the back of his neck trying to put his thoughts in order. "I see nothing wrong with her body nor the source of her ill, but the way she shies from llygad Greine is troubling. Those shadows she mentions, as if dark spirits hound her inside and have her wither." He stops, wary of coming to a hasty conclusion based on the girl's vivid imagination.

"It is more than that, friend." Beorn confirms Veln's suspicious.  He looks around to make sure the parents and girl are out of earshot.  Beorn's voice lowers to a conspiratorial whisper,  "I think it would be wise to consult with Alric, but he tires at his wares so that may not be possible."  Beorn looks around the farm.  "I do not believe the child is in immediate harm."  He turns to look Veln in the eyes.  "You have a way with the girl.  You need speak with her, learn on her doll, where she got it, how long she's had it."  Beorn was only half suggesting, but to motivate him he shared further,  "It's ensorcered, but for good or for ill I do not know and I am sure the parents are ignorant to its nature."   As a warning to avoid his companion's outrage, "I don't want to alarm them in case they act rash and remove it if it is a ward of something worse."

Veln stands still and listens closely to Beorn as the man confirms worse than his own conclusions. His eyes blink at the mention of sorcery. "How did you k...?" He does not finish for Beorn has more to say, and Veln just contains his amazement and nods to confirm he has understood all of it. He looks at the fields, seeing Alric kneels with his hands buried into the soil and lost in prayer. "I will speak to the girl." Veln remains outside for a short moment while Beorn can confirm that Runwyn and Talorc still haven't changed their mind. He ponders on what he was told, and how special he had felt the first time he had buried his senses into the thick dark confines of beast of man, and how little it meant now that he stood among others capable of so much more. But he quickly shook off this feeling, knowing the sun did not shine for him only and he had things to do. Then he remembers he had some of yesterday's roasted chestnuts still hanging in his loose pocket that pulled on his trousers against his boney hip. He rummaged to confirm he had a handful, then turned to walk back inside. He nods to Edith of his way in, then goes back to Hilda and smiles to her, crossing his legs as he seats down and pulls a charred chestnut off his pocket. "Yeah, too much light for me too." He chuckles, rubbing his back. 

Hilda smiles back at Veln and watches the chestnut with interest. For now, she simply continues to play with her doll. She makes it move around her home, tidying and preparing imaginary food.

Veln eats one, then cleans another of its shell and offers her. "When I were a small boy, my pa made me a guard toy made of wood. It had legs and arms tied with cord so they would move when ran with it, and a hole for a little stick to make it wield a weapon. I called him Bricen and he always protected me when I were alone." He contains his bitter memories, focusing on the present. "What is your doll name, Hilda? How long since you two are friends?"

Hilda gladly takes the chestnut and wolfs it down. "This is Morgan," she says holding up the doll like she's introducing herself. "She's a princess. We've been friends forever ."

"Oh, a Princess!" Veln plays surprised and rummages for another chestnut that he breaks in halves and offers her half. "Does she have a castle somewhere? Is this her land, or she comes from afar?"

"She comes from Tintagel!" Hilda declares, eagerly taking another piece of chestnut. "She was born there and her brother is the king."

Veln nods, rubbing his chin. He continues taking a chestnut after another, just a few more remaining in his pocket. "And what is her brother king's name? Maybe I have heard of them, being such great lords of the land."

"She wouldn't tell me!" Hilda explains, glaring at the doll.

Veln frowns. "But she is your friend and she trusts you as much as you do. She would never have secrets from her best friend."  He stops there, sowing the seed of doubt but not going further. He struggles to remember any legend of kings and queens but he never was a keen child for old tales. Maybe it was all made up, but he remembers what Beorn told him and he remembers his voice of grave importance. 

Hilda looks up at Veln with a puzzled expression, before returning to her play. Outside, Godwin invites Talorc and Beorn to help him work his fields until the midday meal.

With a shrug, Talorc picks himself up off the ground and follows Godwin to collect a crude hoe. He swings it a little to test its balance and tests the blade with his finger, frowning slightly he takes his knife and sharpens it before nodding and following Godwin to the field.

"Every princess has a castle somewhere, and a large royal family she is proud of. If she is your friend, she would tell you more about it." Veln remarks, shrugging back. He helps himself up and walks up to Edith who might have observed them during her chores. "Your daughter has an enchanting imagination." His compliment is warm, but there's only a weak smile across his face. "And she is very attached to her doll. Did she receive it as a gift, or maybe any of you made it for her?"

Edith smiles back at Veln, grateful for his attention to Hilda. "Her father brought it back from the market with him."

Beorn joins Talorc to work the fields alongside Godwin.  It wouldn't be fair to try to bow out of the work he prescribed earlier despite his fatigue.  No ungifted person could understand its burden and it was far simpler to struggle onward than to try to explain. He grabs another of the ragged hoes and joins them in their labor.

Veln nods, and over his shoulder at Hilda. "She have a strong bond with it, perhaps they play together since she could walk." He hoped Edith would correct him for he had no other strings to connect, and he worried going to Beorn with empty hands.

Runwyn stays behind, offering to help with any chores they had she could assist with. Whatever the men were off doing, the simple task of a farm were a nice change of pace. It was nice to even be able to simply choice what to help with or even offer, over being told what to do.

The farm has a few chickens pecking about inside a fenced enclosure, and Edith asks Runwyn to help her find where the birds have hidden their eggs.

Veln looks over his shoulder at Hilda once more then nods to Edith and walks outside. He felt relief under the warm caress of the sun for Beorn's warnings still rung in his head. He notices the men at the field and approaches, hopeful to join in the simple gesture of returning the gift of hospitality. "Let me take a turn." He tells Beorn and waits for him to pass the hoe and take a breather. Veln turns back towards the house so his lips would not reveal what he says. "The girl has a name for her doll. She claims she is a princess Morgan of Tintagel, and she has a brother that is a king. I couldn't tell if it were child's tales or something else. Her mother said the doll was brought from market few summers ago. It looks older though, resold or gifted mayhaps." Veln gestures to take the tool from Beorn's hand and starts toiling by Talorc's side.

After helping find around two eggs, Runwyn would ask why the father thinks the girl not eating is an issue. She remembers times she was not feeling up to eating, and would rather have been playing.

Beorn thinks on it, "So if it were a ward it would be chance only, then we must consider the other like.  If it has a hold over her, she will fight to have it.  Perhaps precious to her beyond loving or comfort."   He looks around, trying to see if Talorc can hear them. Lowering his voice   " This is dangerous, Veln.  What we do may jeopardize our arrangement, but it is right. "    'And I'm afraid if that happens,' he doesn't say.  " The only problem now is I don't know how to destroy the doll.  It may be tied to her magically by association.  Unless you know, we must wait for Alric. "

Godwin eyes Runwyn with confusion when she poses her question. "Hilda needs to eat to grow strong," he tells her, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Veln nods to Beorn. The boy feels uncomfortable to be whispered to several times in such close vicinity of the rest, especially Talorc who doesn't work far away and who can look up at them at any moment, same with the father. "I will do whatever you think is right but I felt nothing I can put my finger on." He tries to put a halt to the talk and looks at Alric's body resting on the ground in the middle of the field. "Best we wait, yes." He exhales and clears his thoughts with some honest labor.

Runwyn shakes her head, then thinks about how it would be said in Saxon, as it is clearly not her native tongue. "She eats, but not enough yes? Perhaps she does not understand what it means to truly hunger? When did the lack of hunger start?"

"Hilda has had little appetite for many seasons," Godwin explains sadly. "We fear that something ails her, but know not what."

Alric jerks back to consciousness as the last of the worming roots leave his forearms, back, and neck. Small dots of blood mark the wounds left by the roots, but the majority of the openings have been filled with some sort of clear, sticky substance.  The normally tall, confident man walks wearily towards the group that has finished toiling in the fields. Alric notices Godwin separate from some of the others and approaches him, "The fields have been managed." Alric pauses a moment. " They will produce half again as much as the others. Enjoy your bounty. We should finalize our bargain in the morning. " Following the discussion with Godwin, Alric returns back to his rap-tag companions. 

Veln had rested only enough to have a short meal and put his thoughts together, then went back to helping Godwin. He enjoyed toiling, though it did not remind him of his past as much as how his body had wasted since he was chained. He tired easily and the salt sheen on his sickly pale body glistened under the sun. He looked at Alric often, only to see no change. He hoped the galdorman was well, though he knew better not to check for he could disturb an important ritual.  Eventually, when he checked again and saw the large man standing up from the ground he was relieved. As Alric walked by, Veln stopped to meet his eyes. His expression was a mix of concern and uncertainty. "Beorn thinks the girl is bewitched, and her doll may hold power over her..." Veln decides to leave Beorn to explain, for he had not confirmed himself. He wished to dismiss what Beorn spoke of as nonsense, but he couldn't. "There seems nothing wrong with her body but her spirit is in danger."

Runwyn thinks back to her own childhood, and offers "Perhaps is not a worry? My mother had to fight me a few times to make me eat. I would rather play than eat."

"Is this true, Beorn? The doll is... bewitched?" Alric rubs his forearms instinctively as his mind wanders at the news. What is it that someone would want from a young girl? What could she offer someone they do not already have? "Did you learn anything else?"

"Yes, ensorcered, although I do not believe by malicious intent."   Beorn is prepared to share all of his suspicions if it would save the girl. "I have blessed by God with gifts.  Some are more... questioned than others.  One is the sight. With it, I can see the weaves of magics in an area.  It takes a lot out of me though."   He looks between Veln and Alric trying to judge their reaction to such talk.  Other places would be trying to skewer or burn him for heresy with only a few more words.  They seemed to be listening, though, so he continued. "The doll is the source of a spell, but I could not determine the nature of the enchantment." "When I first saw it, I thought it may be a ward, but as Veln learned more for me from the parents, it seemed less likely." Beorn nods to Veln for his efforts.  "If it was bought by her father only the past few years, then it was not something a wisdom would use to protect her.  And the parents have repeatedly said they have only tried to take her to the springs, and Hilda refused to go in.  So a wise woman's charm is out." Beorn had thought on this hard and pour his very limited knowledge for this next part.  "My only thought is that her father brought it home from the market... already enchanted."  He mused, "Perhaps abandoned after the death of its previous owner."   Beorn continued, "I do not know enough about these magics to say for certain, but I would think it would require a bond to drain her as it does. I believe the girl's love for the doll as a companion might have sympathetically activated the spell to her." And then he laid out the last problem, "And if they are bonded beyond just the girl's love of a toy, she will not react well if it is taken or destroyed.  It will be precious to her as if life itself."   Beorn stopped to let the others soak in.  And perhaps find a solution.

Talorc stands nearby, working away but doing his best to follow the conversation. "Sorry, what is doll? I do not know this word. But girl is problem? Girl not like sun? Girl is small, pick up girl and put in sun. No problem. Girl not eat? Girl is small, pick up girl, put food in mouth, hold mouth closed until she..." He makes a swallowing gesture, stroking his throat. "No problem. She like to sit an play and won't work? Take toy and put in fire. Soon learn." He turns to Alric. "And whatever doll is, if doll is witch, burn doll. No problem." He shrugs. "You all like to talk. Work, talk, make deal. I find this funny, but also tiring. Things are not a problem if you just do. Just take. I talk less, get more done for less pain." He taps the knife on his belt.

Veln opens his mouth to say something but he quickly turns over his shoulder and waits for Talorc to barrage them with questions and their simple solutions. The boy cannot resist but feel intimidated by the warrior's posture and his direct logic cutting the problem in half. Then he looks up to Alric, recovering his speech again. "There is more." He builds on Beorn's explanation from what he had learned himself. "The girl believes her doll is a princess, one called Princess Morgan of Tintagel, and her brother is mayhaps a king there. It felt like the girl knew very little of that story, and were angry at the doll for not telling her more. If it were a child's games, she would have told me more of it. But it felt like she really did not know more than that." Veln stops before he would start making wild assumptions. He wasn't happy Beorn's worried had caught up with him.

Beorn immediately regretted including Talorc, but his response could be worse. "Tha mi a ’guidhe ort a bhith foighidneach. Tha fios agam nach e seo do shlighe. Ach mura tèid dèiligeadh riutha san dòigh cheart, dh ’fhaodadh sinn uile a bhith fo ùmhlachd na draoidheachd."   Beorn tries to keep him from haughty action. Evil thought crept at his mind.  It was of fear of Talorc, but he does not listen.  And prays in his heart that Alric has a solution. Scottish Gaelic: I beseech you to be patient.  I know this is not your way. Yet if not dealt with in the right way, we could all be subject to the magic.

"Tintagel? I know this story. Morgana is said to be a powerful sorceress, but she was never a princess. Her mother bore the king of Tintagel several illegitimate children - one of them was Morgana. I don't know whether her brother became King or not, but his name is Artus and he was quite the warrior." Alric raps his head with his fist. "But this... This is quite odd. Tintagel is to on west - far west - of the isles. Perhaps you can speak with the father and see what business he has had with Tintagel? Maybe point us to a trader her met? Or maybe I can speak with the girl and determine if she has been overcome by the sorceress?"  Before anyone can take action based on his request, Alric puts a hand out as if to ask them to halt and wait. He bows his head and whispers to the group: "This doll is bewitched. I do not know what to do or how to resolve the situation, but there is a powerful and evil magick here."

It was a fascinating story , Beorn thought.  But it left them no step closer to solving the problem.

Talorc snorts impatiently. "What is doll? What Magic? This place..." He shakes his head. "After food, I take and go. Too much talk and..." He waves his arms around in frustration. 

Veln looks away from Talorc and down at the cared soil under his feet. He feels uncomfortable for he senses the impatience building in the warrior and that his hand seems to grace the hilt of the knife more often than it should. Meanwhile, the two grown men next to him seem so consumed by the unseen force they speak of, they seem to not notice this or even forget their own plight and why they came here in the first place. "We came here hoping to exchange what we have for what we need and leave. That is all." He reminds both. " If we know how to help them maybe we should, but I saw and felt nothing and for all I know, we have a child's tale and little else. If the doll is truly bewitched we may be walking blindly into a cursed trap, or insult this family that we asked for their hospitality." He pauses, feeling underwhelmed by his own excuses. He wasn't proud of himself for saying this but he had to say it. "I fear we can only make it worse."

"Beorn come" Talorc holds out his arm to bring the man over, then switches to Gaelic " Leig dhomh rudeigin a mhìneachadh dhut, is dòcha an uairsin is urrainn dhut toirt air càch fhaicinn. Is e droch chùis a tha seo dhuinn. An obair seo a tha sinn uile a ’dèanamh a-nis, 4 fir ag obair san raon, Runwyn a’ cuideachadh thall an sin, an draoidheachd. Bidh seo na bhuannachd dhaibh airson bliadhna agus tha e grunn uairean a-thìde de dh ’obair airson grunn dhaoine. Gheibh sinn aon bhiadh, a chumas biadh dhuinn airson aon latha. An do dh ’aontaich thu airson aodach cuideachd? Is e seo as coireach, cò às a tha mi, nach obraich thu ach dha na daoine ris am bi thu a ’creachadh. An uairsin bidh a h-uile duine a ’faighinn buannachd airson ùine mhòr airson an oidhirp fhada a chuireas tu a-steach. Ma thadhlas tu airson ùine ghoirid bu chòir dhut malairt ann am bathar no na rudan nach urrainn dhaibh a chumail. Is e seo dòigh nan rudan, tha e nas cothromaiche. A-nis, ma tha thu ag iarraidh cuideachadh luath air an son, tha sin meadhanach math ann am malairt, togaidh mi an nighean, bheir mi a-steach i solas na grèine. Bheir mi oirre ithe. Ach chan eil mi nam thràill, cha bhith mi ag obair dha fear eile a-rithist san dòigh seo. Bha thu air mo bheò-ghlacadh agus fiosrach agus mar sin dh ’aontaich mi seo fheuchainn aon uair, ach a-nis feumaidh tu rudan fhaicinn mar a bha mi. Tha mi a ’falbh an seo le biadh, aodach agus am meatailt air an duine sin. Is e iomlaid cothromach a tha seo airson mo neart agus m ’ùine agus a bheatha. Agus airson an uair mu dheireadh. Dè a th ’ann an 'Doll' ?" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Translation: Let me explain something to you, then maybe you can make the others see. This is a bad deal for us. This work we are all doing now, 4 men working the field, Runwyn helping over there, the druidcraft . This will all benefit them for a year and is several hours of work for several people. We get one meal, which will keep us fed for one day. Did you agree for clothes too? This is why, where I am from, you only work for the people that you raid with. Then everyone benefits for a long time for the long effort you put in. If you visit for a short while you should trade in goods or take what they cannot hold. This is the way of things, it is fairer. Now, if you want fast help for them, that is fair in trade, I will pick up the girl, take her into the sunlight. I will make her eat. But I am not a slave, I will not work for another again in this way. You had me amused and curious so I agreed to try this once, but now you must see things my way. I am leaving here with food, clothes and the metal on that mans hoe. This is fair exchange for my strength and time and his life. And for the last time. What is "Doll"?