“The person who retrieved the apple cut it into nine pieces, and eight of those pieces were eaten. For the ninth piece, they made sure to have their back to a looking glass. They looked over their left shoulder at it, then flung the ninth piece of apple across the same shoulder, and the image of their future spouse would appear in the looking glass.”
“What else did ye do?”
“A ring was hidden in a meal of milk and porridge. Spoons were handed to those interested in playing. Lasses eagerlyattacked the large bowl, hoping to be the first to capture the ring. Whoever obtained the ring first would be the first married.”
“Do ye believe these things are true?” asked Elayne in all earnestness.
“Aye, I do. I met my future husband as a young girl, when I contemplated marriage at the winter solstice in our clan. Ye can never tell. Anything is possible. Ye have a few years to wait to become a bride.”
Elayne had never heard about these festivities. And she looked forward to when she might take part in the fun. Old enough to become a bride. Would Cailean participate?
Even if she wasn’t the right age to participate yet, Elayne wished to watch other lads and lasses engage in the merriment, but then she had nothing presentable to wear. She yearned to wear a pretty dress. Therefore, she needed to sell many dirks. Elayne ate her dinner and dreamed of the future with new opportunities.
The snowstorm continued unabated, and the wind lashed at the shutters, hitting them against the wood of the forge. Elayne hoped they made enough money on the sale of their swords to purchase more wood to shore up the worn timbers so it would be warmer inside the forge next year. The wind huffed its icy breath and blew with long, moaning sighs, making the wood and the rusty hinges creak. A couple of chickens lived inside the forge, and they clucked in consternation over the wind that crept in.
The wind’s icy breath lingered in the drafty room. Elayne wore gloves with the tips of the fingers cut off. It enabled her to hold securely to the metal as she hammered it into shape. By dawn, the swords were cold to the touch. Each morning, she searched the forge to find the eggs wherever the chickens hadlaid them. Even though they had a coop, they often laid them close to the forge, enjoying its heat.
The previous summer, she encountered the healer. Elayne took the opportunity to try to get help for her father. “His eyes are tired by looking into the scorching fire daily as he works. Can I give him a plant or tonic to help him?”
“Be sure he eats plenty of carrots and eggs to help improve his eyesight. In the meantime, I’ll make a tonic for him, and he can try it. Come to my cottage on Wednesday, and I will give it to ye then. It may give him more energy so his eyes do not tire. The work is arduous. I get a headache thinking about all the noise from hammering the metal.”
During the summer, when fresh carrots were readily available, she asked Mrs. Logan, “Please purchase carrots each week from the market and fix them for dinner for Papa, as he especially likes them.” Her father’s eyesight had improved, and his eyes felt less tired since taking the tonic, which made Elayne happy since her father worked so hard. Many people took Sunday off from work, but she and her father did not. Too many warriors and people who lived in the surrounding villages and glens needed their swords, dirks, or services to repair a work tool or iron wheel.
Now, in the middle of winter and before the solstice, Elayne toiled over the hot coals of the burning fire and recalled the pine scents of the forest, the cool sparkling water of the loch against her hot skin in the summer, and a pair of smoky-gray eyes that gazed at her intently.No time for daydreams, Elayne told herself sternly.Ye have work to do.Yer father would berate ye if ye take too long.The clan counted on them and they could-n’t fall behind on their work. Nae matter that she worked long hoursafter her father did. He needed to rest his eyes and protect his eyesight.
Elayne hammered, pounded, and beat the hot iron on the anvil, shaping it into the desired dimensions. Today, she pounded nails. Their inventory was low, and she was better suited to using her skills in crafting nails whereas her father, with his massive arms, beat the iron to make ax heads, hammers, and other tools.
Most days, Elayne enjoyed working and creating items from scratch. She preferred making things by hand from beginning to end rather than repairing tools. Sweat dripped from her brow. Elayne removed her glove for a moment, took a cloth from her pocket, and wiped the sweat, soot, and grime from her face before resuming work.
Elayne spoke to her father and Mrs. Logan about selling more items at the summer market and the fair. People from other clans visited the castle for the summer fair.
“What do ye think, Mrs. Logan? Do ye have linens to sell, along with a few of my father’s tools, nails, and dirks?”
“I think it is a marvelous idea, Elayne. Yer father is such a masterful blacksmith; I believe he should command higher prices at the summer fair. William’s tools and yers are high quality and last for years. I have linens to sell, and I would happily sell yer items if yer father approves.” Mrs. Logan’s eyes sparkled with excitement at the prospect.
“If yer willing, Mrs. Logan, that would be a fine idea,” her father said.
“Elayne needs new dresses. It is doubtful her present clothing will even last until spring.”
“Aye, I’ll give ye coins to purchase fabric for new clothes.”
Elayne’s face lit up at the prospect of a new pretty dress. Not an old drab dress. When she saw Cailean again, she wished to wear a new blue dress. When walking, she’d studied how the men looked at the women. Of course, their heads turned at pretty lasses too. Elayne was not interested in turning any lad’s head. But she longed to see a glimmer of appreciation reflected in Cailean’s eyes.
“Yer dinner is delicious tonight, isn’t it, Father?”
Her father smiled and said, “Aye, ye are a marvelous cook, Mrs. Logan, and I don’t know how we would live without ye cooking for us.”
Mrs. Logan blushed at the compliment. It was then that Elayne glimpsed the soulful look of longing the widow gave her father and realized the widow liked him quite a lot. Elayne appreciated Mrs. Logan, who had always been kind to her and treated her like the daughter she didn’t have. In fact, Mrs. Logan was the one who had sweet-talked her father into letting her ride to the loch so she could take time for herself.
Elayne determined she would try to help their romance and see if her father was equally interested in Mrs. Logan. To this end, she left them alone after dinner and heard them talking as she returned to the forge for the evening.
Elayne worked extra hours after dinner to make the needed items to sell at the summer fair. She squirreled away a precious piece of paper, and with a piece of charcoaled wood from the fire, she drew designs of hilts for dirks and swords that she intended to make to sell.
She also drew her dream dress based on what she saw other ladies wear. The style drew the eyes of men, who enjoyed seeingthe woman’s shape under the dress. Elayne noted how their eyes lingered on the necklines, breasts, hips, and arses of the ladies. Often she saw them looking back at the ladies after they had passed.
The next evening at dinner, Mrs. Logan joined them again. The widow had prepared a lamb stew with potatoes, leeks, and carrots, which tasted delicious on this bitterly chilly night.
“Papa, do ye think we could purchase milking goats in the spring? We could milk them to make cheese to eat and mayhap to sell. There’s room in the pen. The goats only need water and straw for their pen. I would tend them before I tend to the chickens.”
