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haebinPlease enjoy my next Chapter! And thank you so, so much for reading!!! ♥
Anwyn was so deep in her thoughts that she only heard the gentle knock on the door when it happened for the second time. She quickly glanced at Elyan and was relieved to see that he was still fast asleep.
“It’s so nice to see you. Come in,” Anwyn greeted Old Marga, the oldest of the Old Oak villagers, and stepped aside. Raising her hand, she invited the old woman into her home, a friendly smile on her lips.
Even though Marga used a stick to help her walk, her back was straight, the look in her light blue eyes confident and wise. Long life had left its mark on the old woman's face, but her wit and smart charm often made you feel like you were talking to a still-young woman who was never at a loss to express her opinion and speak the truth.
She wore a simple brown linen dress and her long dark gray hair, which reached her waist, was tied back at the nape of her neck and fell down her back in a low ponytail.
“Let me sit down, child,” the old woman groaned and stepped into the house where she headed straight for the table and then lowered herself onto the chair.
“Would you like some tea?” Anwyn asked and saw Marga looking around the house. When her gaze fell on the sleeping half-elf, she raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“A child?” she said in an astonished voice and looked at Anwyn.
“Yes, at that size you could still call it a child,” Anwyn replied with amusement and saw the old woman grimace. Nevertheless, the amused twinkle in her eyes was impossible to miss.
“Well, I already know about the…” Marga broke off and seemed to think for a moment, not knowing what to call the half-elves in the courtyard without sounding rude. Helpers? Strangers? Half-elves who were possibly on the run?
“...yes, we share our home with our friends,” Anwyn helped her and saw Old Marga nod. “But I had only ever seen the taller half-elf running across the courtyard.”
“Brin is his name.”
“Brin, huh?” the old woman murmured and she let her gaze slide over the small sleeping boy. “What's his name?”
“Elyan,” Anwyn replied tenderly, reaching for the kettle hanging over the fire and pouring the hot water into a mug. A small bag of thin cloth filled with nettle leaves would certainly taste good to Old Marga and she was sure that she would realize that Anwyn had chosen this tea to soothe any joint pain. In any case, it wouldn't do her any harm.
Since the day is particularly warm and sunny today, I'll ignore her treating me like an old, sick woman, Marga thought as she took note of the scent of nettle in her mug of tea. She watched as Anwyn hung the kettle back on the hook and then walked to the camp, leaning down and stroking the sleeping boy's wavy hair tenderly.
A slight smile appeared on the old woman's thin lips.
“You remind me a lot of your mother, Anwyn,” she said in a low voice and Anwyn looked over her shoulder, surprised.
“My mother?” she repeated questioningly and Marga nodded.
“It was a long time ago, but I remember her well. You got your tender, loving personality from her.”
“You knew her?” Anwyn's voice was quiet and instantly shaking. She tried to suppress the trembling in her hands and the suddenly fast beating heart in her chest. She felt her throat slightly tighten.
Anwyn sat down at the table opposite the old woman and looked at her carefully. “Of course,” Old Marga replied with a nod. The gaze of her light blue eyes turned to an unknown distance, to times long past.
“Did you know that I was the one who brought you to this world?”
Anwyn's eyes grew wide with astonishment.
„You?“
Old Marga cleared her throat and frowned.
“I mean, ... I apologize when I offended you but I always thought our village healer would have...”
“Humbug,” the old woman interrupted Anwyn, shaking her head. “Olghar was only called in for an easy birth, but as soon as it got more complicated he always found a reason not to show up. You know how he behaved towards most women.”
“Yes, I remember,” she replied in a somber voice.
“It was only when he lost his own child that he really began to come to terms with the different faces of childbirth. It's a terrible fact that he first had to bury his own daughter and grandson to finally face the dark side of pregnancy and its risks. Olghar was eager to learn and did not want to repeat this terrible mistake again. When he accompanied me to a birth one night and we were only lucky to snatch the mother and child from Myrkul, he admitted to me that he would not wish the terrible loss of his own child on any other father or mother in these lands. I watched his progress and was finally able to retire.”
“Wait a moment,” Anwyn said in surprise. “You were a midwife?”
A slight smile appeared on the woman's lips and you could almost think she was blushing. She nodded in affirmation
“I never saw myself as a midwife or an herbalist, Anwyn. I just passed on the knowledge I learned from my mother.”
“No one ever told me about that,” Anwyn said, shaking her head in bewilderment.
“Well, those times were so long ago that most people have probably forgotten,” Marga replied with a shrug, fished the tea bag out of the tea, placed it on a small plate and took a sip of the hot brew. None of the women spoke for a moment before Anwyn cleared her throat and asked in a nervous voice: “You mentioned you were only taken during a difficult birth?”
A wordless nod was Marga's response, but when she saw the pleading look in Anwyn's brown eyes, she sighed softly and gave in to the unspoken request.
“Nothing in this pregnancy indicated that there might be complications, Anwyn,” she began hesitantly. “But the labor dragged on for days and your mother became weaker and weaker. Your father had no choice but to rush through the village seeking help, but one or two people slammed the door in his face, shook their heads or turned away in silence.”
“Why didn't anyone help him?” Anwyn asked in shock.
Old Marga shrugged her shoulders. “Because he lived outside the village? Because he was poor? Because your mother was once promised to someone else and chose your father? There were many reasons for that.”
She watched Anwyn stare at the tabletop in front of her and stroke her fingers over a small scratch, lost in thought. Without lifting her gaze, she asked: “And what happened then?”
„He knocked on my door and I decided to help him. Although summer was approaching, that night was stormy and the rain pattered painfully on our shoulders as we hurried through the flooded and muddy paths. When your father opened the door and my eyes fell on your mother...” Marga suddenly broke off, her eyes clouded with sadness and she shook her head slowly, a pained expression on her face.
“Her life was fading, Child. I saw life draining from her body with every breath she took. Your father tearfully begged me to do everything I could to save her and so I decided to follow his request. The gods favored me that night because I managed to bring you into the world and snatch your mother from Myrkul's hands.”
A tear trickled down Anwyn's cheek and she quickly wiped it away, a faint smile on her lips as if she had to apologize for this emotional outburst.
Marga wordlessly placed her hand on Anwyn's and patted it gently.
“Her health was weak afterwards, but believe me, child, every moment she was able to spend with you and your father was filled with bliss.”
Suddenly, Elyan's soft voice reached the ears of the two women and they turned in surprise to the young elf, who had woken up and started to cry.
“Oh, no no no,” Anwyn gasped and quickly rose from her chair, rushed to the crying toddler and lifted her into her arms. “Ssshhh, nin tinu (* my little star). It's all right, no need to cry,” she whispered tenderly, cradling the crying little half-elf in her arms.
Old Marga looked at Anwyn with a gentle smile on her lips and thought melancholically: “She is the spitting image of her mother. Every unconscious gesture, every expression on Anwyn's face, her words, the way she speaks reminds me of her.”
Groaning, the old woman straightened up, reached for the linen sack that was already lying on the table and then for her stick. “I should make my way home,” she said to Anwyn, who turned to her with the gradually calming Elyan in her arms. Marga reached into the coin pouch hanging from her belt and grabbed some coins she had collected from the inhabitants for the medicine she needed.
“Your due, Anwyn,” she said, seeing the look in her fawn eyes darken a touch.
“You don't have to do that, Marga,” Anwyn murmured, shaking her head. “Gathering herbs doesn't cost any money. And I know that no one in the village is really in possession of enough coin to call their lives comfortable.”
“I know that, child,” the old woman replied, an understanding smile on her lips, her light blue eyes shining with warmth. “And yet a job well done should be rewarded.”
She leaned the cane against the table once more, then placed the coins on the wooden board and walked towards the door, the canvas bag with the medicine in one hand and her walking stick in the other.
“Here's to ten days,” she said goodbye without looking at Anwyn again and then walked out of the house, closing the door behind her.
At that moment, Anwyn felt the little half-elf fidgeting impatiently with his body in her embrace and she turned her attention to him.
“I think it's time to take you back to your mother,” she whispered with a smile and pressed a gentle kiss to his head. And as if Elyan had understood her words, he calmed down and mumbled a few unintelligible words, his arm pointing to the front door.
*****
Anwyn stepped out of the coop with a small bucket that she had filled halfway with starchy grain, some corn, peas and sunflower seeds. On the top layer of this mixture was a head of lettuce that she had taken apart leaf by leaf and various herbs such as nettle, chamomile, dandelion and mint to provide the chickens with a balanced diet.
The animals thanked her for this tasty food by laying an egg every day.
Lost in thought, she closed the stable door behind her, as the animals were already in their runs and had already been fed by Eleri. Conall had harnessed Oksa to the wagon to pick up the wood delivery.
Half a day ago, he and Anwyn had made their way to the village, looked around for suitable wood and ordered the amount they needed.
Since Conall and her father were not out fishing today, Doran had agreed to look after the two young half-elves while Eleri was busy with the daily chores around the house and farm.
Anwyn herself wanted to spend the morning and perhaps even midday in the forest as she wanted to go in search of fruit. The wicker back basket was already at the exit of the courtyard and she hoped to find as many blackberries, wild raspberries and bilberries as possible. She would also keep an eye out for elderberries. This would not only make a delicious jam but also had an anti-inflammatory, pain-relieving and fever-reducing effect. She would process the remaining fruit into juice, jelly, syrup or jam. Even though winter was still a long way off, it was never a bad idea to store enough food for the harsh winter months.
As there were now six of them living together on the farm, they would need more stored food over the winter than just the two of them.
When Trálír and Conall had built the new house, it had been particularly important to them both to be able to build a full basement so that there was enough space to store everyday items.
As soon as Anwyn and Conall made their way to Bealdwine, the village's timber merchant, who was the only one allowed to cut wood in the area, they both realized that they would not get the same quality of wood as the elves of Blackwater Bay.
Bealdwine was only allowed to cut down softwoods such as pine, spruce or fir, and only a certain amount of these. Only the elves were allowed to cut down nobler types of wood such as black walnut, maple or yew. If a half-elf or human was caught illegally felling one of these trees, he would be imprisoned for the rest of his life. Theft was severely punished in this land and Trálír the Elder made sure that the boundaries between elves and the rest of the inhabitants of the land were as far apart as possible.
Regardless of whether it was about harvesting, felling trees or hunting.
However, a few people in the Blackwater Lands were allowed to cut down trees, hunt bears or fish, yet their taxes were more than half, whether in coin or the goods they earned.
Doran, Anwyn's father, was also one of these few people who were allowed to do their work. Her father's father had already been a fisherman and as their home was the closest to the castle and was also situated on one of the most fish-rich bays in the Blackwater country, he was given the order to supply the castle with his catch. Every tenth day a fresh catch and every third day the fish and sea creatures were dried and smoked or pickled in brine.
Anwyn still remembered well that her father had worked hard not so long ago and had hardly been paid by the bailiff. Only since Trálír had come into their lives had this changed. Doran still worked hard and labored, especially for his age, but now he had Conall at his side and their daily catch had tripled. As had the coins they now received.
Trálír and Conall had sat together in Doran's house the night before she and the half-elf had left for the village and planned which furniture they wanted to replace and remake. Anwyn also sat at the table and listened to their words while she mended one of her father's old tunics. The next time she visited the market, she planned to look for new fabrics so that she could perhaps make a few new items of clothing.
Both men discussed at length what needed to be replaced and calculated the amount of wood that would be needed.
The next morning, Anwyn walked silently beside the half-elf, who was talking animatedly with the older man as they walked into his small camp. Anwyn had known Bealdwine since she was a small child and always remembered his kind and good-natured manner towards her.
Anwyn was so deep in her thoughts that she only heard the gentle knock on the door when it happened for the second time. She quickly glanced at Elyan and was relieved to see that he was still fast asleep.
“It’s so nice to see you. Come in,” Anwyn greeted Old Marga, the oldest of the Old Oak villagers, and stepped aside. Raising her hand, she invited the old woman into her home, a friendly smile on her lips.
Even though Marga used a stick to help her walk, her back was straight, the look in her light blue eyes confident and wise. Long life had left its mark on the old woman's face, but her wit and smart charm often made you feel like you were talking to a still-young woman who was never at a loss to express her opinion and speak the truth.
She wore a simple brown linen dress and her long dark gray hair, which reached her waist, was tied back at the nape of her neck and fell down her back in a low ponytail.
“Let me sit down, child,” the old woman groaned and stepped into the house where she headed straight for the table and then lowered herself onto the chair.
“Would you like some tea?” Anwyn asked and saw Marga looking around the house. When her gaze fell on the sleeping half-elf, she raised her eyebrows in surprise.
“A child?” she said in an astonished voice and looked at Anwyn.
“Yes, at that size you could still call it a child,” Anwyn replied with amusement and saw the old woman grimace. Nevertheless, the amused twinkle in her eyes was impossible to miss.
“Well, I already know about the…” Marga broke off and seemed to think for a moment, not knowing what to call the half-elves in the courtyard without sounding rude. Helpers? Strangers? Half-elves who were possibly on the run?
“...yes, we share our home with our friends,” Anwyn helped her and saw Old Marga nod. “But I had only ever seen the taller half-elf running across the courtyard.”
“Brin is his name.”
“Brin, huh?” the old woman murmured and she let her gaze slide over the small sleeping boy. “What's his name?”
“Elyan,” Anwyn replied tenderly, reaching for the kettle hanging over the fire and pouring the hot water into a mug. A small bag of thin cloth filled with nettle leaves would certainly taste good to Old Marga and she was sure that she would realize that Anwyn had chosen this tea to soothe any joint pain. In any case, it wouldn't do her any harm.
Since the day is particularly warm and sunny today, I'll ignore her treating me like an old, sick woman, Marga thought as she took note of the scent of nettle in her mug of tea. She watched as Anwyn hung the kettle back on the hook and then walked to the camp, leaning down and stroking the sleeping boy's wavy hair tenderly.
A slight smile appeared on the old woman's thin lips.
“You remind me a lot of your mother, Anwyn,” she said in a low voice and Anwyn looked over her shoulder, surprised.
“My mother?” she repeated questioningly and Marga nodded.
“It was a long time ago, but I remember her well. You got your tender, loving personality from her.”
“You knew her?” Anwyn's voice was quiet and instantly shaking. She tried to suppress the trembling in her hands and the suddenly fast beating heart in her chest. She felt her throat slightly tighten.
Anwyn sat down at the table opposite the old woman and looked at her carefully. “Of course,” Old Marga replied with a nod. The gaze of her light blue eyes turned to an unknown distance, to times long past.
“Did you know that I was the one who brought you to this world?”
Anwyn's eyes grew wide with astonishment.
„You?“
Old Marga cleared her throat and frowned.
“I mean, ... I apologize when I offended you but I always thought our village healer would have...”
“Humbug,” the old woman interrupted Anwyn, shaking her head. “Olghar was only called in for an easy birth, but as soon as it got more complicated he always found a reason not to show up. You know how he behaved towards most women.”
“Yes, I remember,” she replied in a somber voice.
“It was only when he lost his own child that he really began to come to terms with the different faces of childbirth. It's a terrible fact that he first had to bury his own daughter and grandson to finally face the dark side of pregnancy and its risks. Olghar was eager to learn and did not want to repeat this terrible mistake again. When he accompanied me to a birth one night and we were only lucky to snatch the mother and child from Myrkul, he admitted to me that he would not wish the terrible loss of his own child on any other father or mother in these lands. I watched his progress and was finally able to retire.”
“Wait a moment,” Anwyn said in surprise. “You were a midwife?”
A slight smile appeared on the woman's lips and you could almost think she was blushing. She nodded in affirmation
“I never saw myself as a midwife or an herbalist, Anwyn. I just passed on the knowledge I learned from my mother.”
“No one ever told me about that,” Anwyn said, shaking her head in bewilderment.
“Well, those times were so long ago that most people have probably forgotten,” Marga replied with a shrug, fished the tea bag out of the tea, placed it on a small plate and took a sip of the hot brew. None of the women spoke for a moment before Anwyn cleared her throat and asked in a nervous voice: “You mentioned you were only taken during a difficult birth?”
A wordless nod was Marga's response, but when she saw the pleading look in Anwyn's brown eyes, she sighed softly and gave in to the unspoken request.
“Nothing in this pregnancy indicated that there might be complications, Anwyn,” she began hesitantly. “But the labor dragged on for days and your mother became weaker and weaker. Your father had no choice but to rush through the village seeking help, but one or two people slammed the door in his face, shook their heads or turned away in silence.”
“Why didn't anyone help him?” Anwyn asked in shock.
Old Marga shrugged her shoulders. “Because he lived outside the village? Because he was poor? Because your mother was once promised to someone else and chose your father? There were many reasons for that.”
She watched Anwyn stare at the tabletop in front of her and stroke her fingers over a small scratch, lost in thought. Without lifting her gaze, she asked: “And what happened then?”
„He knocked on my door and I decided to help him. Although summer was approaching, that night was stormy and the rain pattered painfully on our shoulders as we hurried through the flooded and muddy paths. When your father opened the door and my eyes fell on your mother...” Marga suddenly broke off, her eyes clouded with sadness and she shook her head slowly, a pained expression on her face.
“Her life was fading, Child. I saw life draining from her body with every breath she took. Your father tearfully begged me to do everything I could to save her and so I decided to follow his request. The gods favored me that night because I managed to bring you into the world and snatch your mother from Myrkul's hands.”
A tear trickled down Anwyn's cheek and she quickly wiped it away, a faint smile on her lips as if she had to apologize for this emotional outburst.
Marga wordlessly placed her hand on Anwyn's and patted it gently.
“Her health was weak afterwards, but believe me, child, every moment she was able to spend with you and your father was filled with bliss.”
Suddenly, Elyan's soft voice reached the ears of the two women and they turned in surprise to the young elf, who had woken up and started to cry.
“Oh, no no no,” Anwyn gasped and quickly rose from her chair, rushed to the crying toddler and lifted her into her arms. “Ssshhh, nin tinu (* my little star). It's all right, no need to cry,” she whispered tenderly, cradling the crying little half-elf in her arms.
Old Marga looked at Anwyn with a gentle smile on her lips and thought melancholically: “She is the spitting image of her mother. Every unconscious gesture, every expression on Anwyn's face, her words, the way she speaks reminds me of her.”
Groaning, the old woman straightened up, reached for the linen sack that was already lying on the table and then for her stick. “I should make my way home,” she said to Anwyn, who turned to her with the gradually calming Elyan in her arms. Marga reached into the coin pouch hanging from her belt and grabbed some coins she had collected from the inhabitants for the medicine she needed.
“Your due, Anwyn,” she said, seeing the look in her fawn eyes darken a touch.
“You don't have to do that, Marga,” Anwyn murmured, shaking her head. “Gathering herbs doesn't cost any money. And I know that no one in the village is really in possession of enough coin to call their lives comfortable.”
“I know that, child,” the old woman replied, an understanding smile on her lips, her light blue eyes shining with warmth. “And yet a job well done should be rewarded.”
She leaned the cane against the table once more, then placed the coins on the wooden board and walked towards the door, the canvas bag with the medicine in one hand and her walking stick in the other.
“Here's to ten days,” she said goodbye without looking at Anwyn again and then walked out of the house, closing the door behind her.
At that moment, Anwyn felt the little half-elf fidgeting impatiently with his body in her embrace and she turned her attention to him.
“I think it's time to take you back to your mother,” she whispered with a smile and pressed a gentle kiss to his head. And as if Elyan had understood her words, he calmed down and mumbled a few unintelligible words, his arm pointing to the front door.
Anwyn stepped out of the coop with a small bucket that she had filled halfway with starchy grain, some corn, peas and sunflower seeds. On the top layer of this mixture was a head of lettuce that she had taken apart leaf by leaf and various herbs such as nettle, chamomile, dandelion and mint to provide the chickens with a balanced diet.
The animals thanked her for this tasty food by laying an egg every day.
Lost in thought, she closed the stable door behind her, as the animals were already in their runs and had already been fed by Eleri. Conall had harnessed Oksa to the wagon to pick up the wood delivery.
Half a day ago, he and Anwyn had made their way to the village, looked around for suitable wood and ordered the amount they needed.
Since Conall and her father were not out fishing today, Doran had agreed to look after the two young half-elves while Eleri was busy with the daily chores around the house and farm.
Anwyn herself wanted to spend the morning and perhaps even midday in the forest as she wanted to go in search of fruit. The wicker back basket was already at the exit of the courtyard and she hoped to find as many blackberries, wild raspberries and bilberries as possible. She would also keep an eye out for elderberries. This would not only make a delicious jam but also had an anti-inflammatory, pain-relieving and fever-reducing effect. She would process the remaining fruit into juice, jelly, syrup or jam. Even though winter was still a long way off, it was never a bad idea to store enough food for the harsh winter months.
As there were now six of them living together on the farm, they would need more stored food over the winter than just the two of them.
When Trálír and Conall had built the new house, it had been particularly important to them both to be able to build a full basement so that there was enough space to store everyday items.
As soon as Anwyn and Conall made their way to Bealdwine, the village's timber merchant, who was the only one allowed to cut wood in the area, they both realized that they would not get the same quality of wood as the elves of Blackwater Bay.
Bealdwine was only allowed to cut down softwoods such as pine, spruce or fir, and only a certain amount of these. Only the elves were allowed to cut down nobler types of wood such as black walnut, maple or yew. If a half-elf or human was caught illegally felling one of these trees, he would be imprisoned for the rest of his life. Theft was severely punished in this land and Trálír the Elder made sure that the boundaries between elves and the rest of the inhabitants of the land were as far apart as possible.
Regardless of whether it was about harvesting, felling trees or hunting.
However, a few people in the Blackwater Lands were allowed to cut down trees, hunt bears or fish, yet their taxes were more than half, whether in coin or the goods they earned.
Doran, Anwyn's father, was also one of these few people who were allowed to do their work. Her father's father had already been a fisherman and as their home was the closest to the castle and was also situated on one of the most fish-rich bays in the Blackwater country, he was given the order to supply the castle with his catch. Every tenth day a fresh catch and every third day the fish and sea creatures were dried and smoked or pickled in brine.
Anwyn still remembered well that her father had worked hard not so long ago and had hardly been paid by the bailiff. Only since Trálír had come into their lives had this changed. Doran still worked hard and labored, especially for his age, but now he had Conall at his side and their daily catch had tripled. As had the coins they now received.
Trálír and Conall had sat together in Doran's house the night before she and the half-elf had left for the village and planned which furniture they wanted to replace and remake. Anwyn also sat at the table and listened to their words while she mended one of her father's old tunics. The next time she visited the market, she planned to look for new fabrics so that she could perhaps make a few new items of clothing.
Both men discussed at length what needed to be replaced and calculated the amount of wood that would be needed.
The next morning, Anwyn walked silently beside the half-elf, who was talking animatedly with the older man as they walked into his small camp. Anwyn had known Bealdwine since she was a small child and always remembered his kind and good-natured manner towards her.