Sinnove
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(5/29/03 10:54 am)
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Sinnove Goes To The Landing
The light of dawn was a pale yellow, painting the snow-covered farm in a thin veil of warmth. The few oxen that remained on the Vinangr land were huddled together beneath the shelter of a stable constructed of thick log planks and strewn hay. Morning was the beginning of a long workday for the nine sons in the family. The daughter, their only female babe in the lot of ten, was still sleeping. What was true for the baby of a long line of siblings was doubly true for the sole girl child of the Vinangr’s. Sinnove was special. She was the gift that her mother had prayed for: a baby girl. After giving birth to nine boys, Svala was overjoyed to have her little angel. It was said that when Sinnove was born, she did not cry. But an even greater story was one that told of her mother feeling no pain bringing her into the world. She was given the name of a caregiver, a bringer of peace, and for this her education was one of healing and tending to the sick. In a family of twelve, cuts, bruises and broken limbs were common.
On this morning, Sinnove awoke late. The sun was bright and shone on the blanket of white so brightly that most squinted and shaded their eyes when they stepped outside of their homes. Her long red hair was being carefully tied behind her head in twin braids as she emerged from the crude stone and wood structure. The boys, all nine of them, were off doing what they did daily. Meat, fish, grain and mead was fetched daily while Svala made bread for that evening’s supper. There was a strict routine this family followed, and it all involved hours of preparation. The little girl was exempt from it all. She wore the finest clothing of them all, had the prettiest trinkets and even a much-coveted spellbook from which she read about her magic. Her power came from Eir, but this book aided her memory. It was remarkable, really, the daughter of a hard working farmer and warrior learning to read and write, and though with no impressive talent it was a fine skill nonetheless. Her eldest brother, Eldgrim, had seen to it that she was outfitted with a very nice iron hammer, the weapon of the healer. Moddan, one the middle sons, forged her a shield, though the family was far too modest to dye it. Everything she was given was given with the intent to present her to the most powerful Jarls of Midgard. She was being groomed, and like the chores of the farm that belonged to everyone, the chore of breeding Sinnove was one tackled by all as well.
The pretty Norse girl left the farm to go into Aegirhamn to fetch some supplies for her mother and spend the day hunting if the mood struck her. Visiting the market was always such fun for Sinnove. Just seeing a Troll up close made her giddy with delight. And the Kobolds! Blue skin and such very large eyes. Truth be told, the Valkyn did still unnerve the child, but it was likely their ever-stern faces. Even when smiling, then looked terribly angry. While marveling over the sheer mass of a stony Berserker in his epic armour, Sinnove bumped right into a Dwarf and fell onto her backside.
“Ha! I wud nah be much of a Dwarf iffen I didt knock a wee Norse offa her feet, wud I?” he bellowed with a belly laugh. He offered a hand to the girl and yanked her to her feet with a none too gentle tug. She took to dusting herself off and smiled down at the cheery fellow. “No, I do not suppose you would be. Excuse me, my lord.” The Dwarf narrowed his eyes and looked the girl up and down, a pudgy hand stroking his beard three times. “That be some talk fer a Norse. ‘My lord’,” he mocked in a comical tone. “Since when do we make em so fine fer the market? Ha! I be thinkin you be a priestess. Yer clothes, they don’t have no dirt on em. Not a speck!” Sinnove looked down at her very tidy leather armour and shrugged. “I have not gone very far or hunted very much, my, um, lord.” She curtsied to the Dwarf and quickly excused herself, mostly because he had a chunk of meat stuck between his teeth and she feared the inevitable burst of laughter.
The market was always a place of extreme activity. From the very smallest and newest warriors, to seasoned hunters that walked the Frontier lands without fear. Sinnove saw it all here, and enjoyed every minute of it. There was someone in particular that she liked seeing most. A tall and noble Norseman by the name of Svenkrith. His armour was so rugged yet beautiful, having lost its shine a long time ago when he slew his first enemy. Svenkrith was never at market for long, but when he was, people stopped and stared. It was said that he once bested three Albions and two Hibernians while in Emain Macha. All alone. Not a healer in sight! Sinnove secretly hoped to one day fight beside him, to care for his wounds and give her blessings so that he would come back victorious and sing her praises. To be a healer to such a valiant fighter was a dream. On this day, she was in luck, for the West winds drew him from the Frontier and into the market. He was collecting weapons from his guildmates and salvaging them for a small fortune. There he stood, beside the forge, carefully breaking and melting an axe into metal bars for sale. Sinnove had no reason to be at the forge, her skills were far less trade-oriented, but she found herself right there beside him, staring up at his stern bearded face. Her eyes were drawn to the multitude of braids adorning his facial hair, and before she could think of her manners and look away, he turned to her.
“What is it, child?” he asked her in a disarmingly deep voice. Sinnove’s mouth opened then slowly closed as she just stared. Not one to be unkind to children, Svenkrith smiled and set down the metal in his hands. “I know you. You are the Vinangr child. You look just like your brothers. I know all of them. Four are in the Frontier often. I have fought with Eldgrim and Ragnell many times. Good Vikings they are.” He lifted his thick brows and waited for her to speak, but being one accustomed to hero worship, he soon realized that she wouldn’t. “You are the healer, aren’t you? Well, little healer, my advice to you is this: learn quickly so that you may join us. I could use a servant of Eir out there. My healing companion is growing bitter and clumsy in his old age. What do you say? Could you join with Svenkrith to slaughter a few dozen Celts?”
Sinnove began to nod then promptly passed out.
Sinnove Vinangr
11th Season Healer Edited by: Sinnove at: 6/2/03 3:45:43 pm
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