Chapter 13 - Village VIII
Fall came and went quickly. Above the higher elevations on the top of the world, it was the same every year. Abbreviated spring/summer/fall and a long harsh winter. That was it for the seasons. A long spring? And a killer winter.
In the dead of the winters it actually gets so cold up there, that a person's spit crackles on the ground, freezing and cracking and tearing. It's an awful and terrible sound, the first couple of times you experience it. Down south? That's the very worst of the occasional winter bad spell. That was everyday normal for winter up in the far harshness.
No, the far north-men's idea of a harsh spell in winter, was the first tinkles and cracks appearing in the very air before your spit could even hit the ground. Taking a piss or a shit without knowing what the hell you were doing? And your ass or your cock would turn black and fall off, miserable and painful the whole slow time.
When a human being is pissing ice cubes, that tinkle and crackle before hitting the ground, and the very wind erases the frozen gold beads that can't even stain anything… most sane rational human beings took the hint and got the hell out of that region. These people, quite naturally, called it home sweet home.
Ryeamund said maybe it was two or three times in his life, there had been bad cold snaps for a couple weeks in the middle of winter, and the harsh north wind came down in error to the south for a short visit. It was harsh he admitted, but not unheard of. It was for him simply "the worst winter ever", just every single year. He could adapt.
The Oxen took turns visiting each other, and helping each other look in on the few farm chores that might need another person to help. Each had their own 'valkyrim' that took turns spending time with him wherever he went and anything he did… and staying with their Lady Eira. Who had Ryeamund out her back door, where she preferred to keep her prize beast, as she smiled and called him.
Eira and Rye, spent a lot of time visiting the RavinLunden. Rye got shown off to her people. He liked playing with the children. Eira had been right, he never did have any idea exactly what a happy childhood should even be like. Other than "the little farm was peaceful, I fell in love with the animals", he didn't have any other great recipe.
Eira explained that her people considered it a great honor to be allowed to "guard over" the children. That it was best accomplished by being one of them. You were expected to play with them, and run around. You were then privileged to everything. So, Ryeamund made sure he did.
The littlest ones ran around from before sunup to after dark, they were excited wee children with all energy and commotion. The older little kids watched herd over the toddlers and on up. The littlest ones played "touch and go" tag games, and they graduated into children's "touch stick" games, of which there were many.
Girls and boys all played games like follow the leader. Ryeamund as a woodcutter had no trouble keeping up with the little kids playing games in the woods in the winter at night. Girls and boys though mainly girls when they were older, liked dancing and performing tricks. After a childhood and young adulthood competing for fun with friends and neighbors, attending the Gartens to be instructed… there were the usual things. Farming, trade guilds, craftsmen, merchants, and being kingsmen.
Ryeamund had been a tree man, not a ground man as a woodcutter. The more valuable and versatile sort of wood and timber man. Do or die was his childhood philosophy. Grown men, the other grown woodcutters all oohing over what these nimble, agile, tree-men could do? Rye had to give that a try. Seeing the children running in a line, walking down narrow strips of stout wood, was one way woodcutters readied a new man to try to do tree work instead of ground work.
Before the serious snow hit, Rye spent a day entertaining the children who wanted to see him do tree climbing. He spent several days showing them all his "tree tricks". He would do an easy chin up, get his leg over and rest a few seconds. Then stand on that branch, and leap up or out and over and do it again.
There was nothing stopping him getting to the top of any tree he seemingly wanted. In the dead of the bad part of winter, he spent it with either his men and Eira's girls, or with Eira and these people. In the worst of the winter, stuck inside, he got exposed to little kids playing high dice. The little five or six year old girl that followed Uncle Rye around and liked him? Took to reciting her rhymes that helped her sum the dice and difference the dice.
Ryeamund had promised to do everything with the kids as they did it, so he had 100% knowledge that they were thoroughly fine. Eira looked over, and had to smile as only a women who wants to be a mother can. Her coin beast was sitting on the stone floor, arguing with a six year old about how many apples and how many apples make how many apples. Eira had to cover her face to keep from pissing her trousers laughing, at her husband arguing back with a six year old girl. The girl finally started poking him with her fingers, berating him, reciting the one rhyme again.
The little girl was ecstatic when her friend Uncle Rye was finally able to play enough games with her and her friends, and he could sing along with enough rhymes that he automatically knew all the days of the week and the lunar calendar and everything else a kid needed to know in that area of the world at that time.
She finally quit covering her mouth, when she caught Ryeamund all but laughing at her. Eira explained her instructors must have been poking her to tease her about her sums at the Garten, she was likely imitating them. Eira asked Rye what he thought about having a wee little kid around. Rye admitted it.
"Aye. A fine thought. I could enjoy it more, if we got one that did not poke me so much. And can ye get her to mind Uncle Rye's eyes, woman!"
Ryeamund thought it was cute when she took a little rounded children's safe stick, and took to poking him gently in the kidneys and neck and other spots. He made the monster face and chased her all around. She screamed and fled. He couldn't really catch her of course, and neither could he truly 'escape' her when she chased down the monster and killed it with her little rounded touch stick.
Eira was smiling seeing her scary husband let a little six year old girl tuck into one big arm, like Thann the dog liked to stretch out and take a nap. The little girl fell asleep touching him gently with her fingers.
Eira either bought or got as presents, high north furs. Thicker leather and thicker fur on it. One was the biggest, it was a tiny tent woven with leather cord at the seams. It was light enough to pack around on a war horse, and it kept a man warm down to anything on the trail if you needed to do a command in winter. A bulky but light bag of sheep's wool was used to insulate it and some was left over to shove into clothing and foot-furs and the like. Thick soft wool woven into large sheets and strips for usefulness.
The gartens were the oddest thing Ryeamund ever saw. The children's garten was of course a "child garden", where they knew how to "grow" children. They claimed that almost any young child, could easily do high reckoning if they were gotten to early enough that it was easy. Ryeamund impressed everyone back at the great-houses by enjoying high dice after his first winter with Eira's people.
Ryeamund was at first surprised to start meeting Wulfgar here among these people, but then he was RavinLunden. These people had their own lands taken hundreds of years ago, and had pledged their own fortunes with those of the far north-men. When their kingdom had been blasted, they were already in the process of sending out men that were the few literate they could get a hold of, to go on far tours. To find ancient wisdom and bring it back. To find foreign wisdom of any kind that seemed novel and useful, then to bring it back.
They learned about ancient cultures that they admired, and they copied things they liked and found useful.
The RavinLunden were the brains of the operation. They all took oaths to never seek high office, and never kingship. They held the hunting god superior, who had voluntarily stepped aside for Odin and his wisdom gifts. They were going to be the high king's advisers. The military strategists. The spies. The scouts. The special forces. The educators. The instructors. You were not to seek high office. If you were needed there? You would be noticed and appointed.
They were slowly breeding with the bigger north-men lines. They got heavier sons. The north-men reported sons with more wits. They now had a land to call home again? And their ways prevented them from anything but protecting it with the utmost vigilance. The north-men actually liked the RavinLunden for some things, and after a few generations they got used to them and their different ways. In times of war though, it was said the north-men truly loved the Ravens.
Because that was when the so called 'Dark Lords' got selected. The smartest, the tallest, the strongest, the most agile, the best blade students. The ones most heavily burdened with the VinterBludden. That was when the real entertainment always started.
Blade classes were offered for any declared an adult but not yet married. The hunters were not idle men having fun, they were serious about their craft. This whole society was smiling and having fun, and didn't have many problems internally to deal with… and everyone was prepared for war even though they didn't think of it like that.
Their women and children were in some ways actually feared. When you get a chill thinking about what the women and children could do? Next, try to imagine the men coming for you.