Skeletons of Legacies

[johanna]

With the civil war at hand now, Johanna was kept very busy with orders. Which she did not mind, it was what made her money and what kept her to live here comfortably. To the politics of it all, she remained polarized. She was not Scottish, nor English. She was just a German foreigner settled here to start a new life with her adopted son. She could go back to Germany, she knew, but business here was good and she saw no reason to.

The light clanging of metal resounded throughout the shop as she was working on the makings of short sword, one of a many swords and weapons she had made already since the morning. With her left hand she gripped it around the pommel and in her right hand was the hammer to which she hammered out the raw metal resting on the anvil before her, glowing a bright red. Her golden mane had been put into a braid that wrapped around the back of her head in a bun. The few strands that had come loose remained matted against her reddened cheeks and forehead from perspiration that came from the strenuous work and intense heat from the fire. There lay a second anvil beside her where her assistant, Fingal, usually worked beside her. But she had sent him out on an errand with the wagon and Björn for more materiels.

She took lots of care and time into her work, for if the men or women fell in battle due to their weapon breaking or their armor, she held herself personally and morally responsible. True, it was the person, not the weapon, that truely made the warrior; but still. She would do all in her power to make sure her weapons, the Schwarzwald weapons, were durable and most efficient.

Customers would also come to find that upon recieving their weapon or armor, somewhere on the item would be her small personal isignia, or trademark. Which was a small flower in the design of the one upon her family crest.

While Johanna worked, Somerled stayed at the front of the shop.
Sitting with legs tucked beneath him atop of the stool behind the front counter, toy metal knights that his mother made scattered on the countertop about him. Skadi, the Norwegian Elk Hound, who was, really, the guard dog of the shop and the boy lay on the wooden floor near the door. Her head resting on her paws while her dark eyes drifted over the people passing by the shop outside through the windows.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

The Norwegian hound went up to the window, scratching at the sill when the carriage wheels stopped turning in front of the blacksmith's shop. Brown wheels invoked a great deal of pomp and circumstance. Attached to it was a carriage seeming non descript, save for the quality of darkwood that gave an air of wealth to the mode of transportation. Drawn curtains kept the view of the inside a secret. A guard dismounted, opening the door, and revealing the contents of who had sought a visit.

The Dutchess herself.

Johanna wasn't privy to an annoucement of person when she crossed over the front door, no trumpets or blaring insignias. In fact, the guard who'd escorted her in bowed to the blacksmith before leaving the pair alone to speak in quiet. Fire and metal had a distinct scent. A sound of a hammer clanged over the thong gripping the sword to be shaped. "M'father was a smith," she spoke then of the one always known to her, Amhlaidh,"Ye place brings a sense tae meh o' goodness. Steel tha' is virgin, o' yet is an art and nay for blood purpose. Johanna, I have a favor I would ask o' you."

[johanna]

Ah, but there was a heralding for the Duchess. Skadi's barking announced that the woman exiting the carriage was intending on entering the shop, catching Somerled's attention, but it was not heard over the continuous hammering from the back.

So, as Skadi would not leave her post, Somerled slipped off the stool and was soon at his mother's elbow, tugging at the hem of her blouse. Johanna, just about finished with the short sword, set down the hammer and carried the freshly made weapon to a rack where she had other newly crafted items. "Was ist los meinen Sohn?"

"Mutti, die Frau Aberdeen ist hier." He responded, Hanna's blonde brows rose a little, and she crossed the back work room for the doorway that lead to the front of the shop. With little Somerled at her heels.

Skadi in the meantime stepped aside for Bess and her guard, however carefully testing the air about them with some sniffs and watching them carefully with her dark brown eyes, her pointed ears perked foreward. Johanna came to stand behind the counter, wearing a man's white blouse with sleeves rolled up to her elbows, brown breeches, black leather working boots, and a thick brown leather apron that extended some past her knees.

Crisp blue eyes passed over the guard and she nodded curtly to him, then they came to Beathag. "Hallo." To her words her brows rose in a sign of interest and she nodded. "Ja. It is an art und discipline." She took off her thick leather brown gloves she worked in and set them atop another on the bartop next to the metal toys. To which she glanced to Somerled briefly and commanded sharply, "Somerled, abräumst den Tisch." Somerled, who had taken a stance directly behind his mother but allowed himself to lean his head speculatively to the side to look at the Duchess with wide green eyes jumped immediatly. Stepping around her he swept his arm over his toys hastily, gathering them, hugging them to his chest, and exiting through the doorway to the backroom.

Johanna refixing her attention on Beathag nodded. "Jawohl. Und vot is dis favor?"

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

She took a moment to pick at the English smattering the Bavarian's thick accent. Thick. Ha! So it was possible for another person to have an accent that was like pea soup. Call it a likeness to share, but one more think to draw the Duchess close to the diverse population of Turas Lan. Beathag, near to thirty five, was finally coming to appreciate in some nuance of the English language. Johanna wouldn't do well speaking in Gaelic, she might very well slaughter German, so English was the best way for them to commit no offense to lineage or the ears.

"Ah need ye tae fix the steel joinings on mah leather armor. Given the, quickness o' this war, Ah realize iffn I put in a commision fer a steel plate set twould nay be ready in time. Sae. The links o' mah chainmail, m'leathers, m'helm tae be o'erseen, and iffn ye'd sharpen m'weapons. All these things Ah'd consider an honor."

She let her eyes drift over to meet with Hanna's. The two of them shared an unspoken, evident bond. Calluses, musculature from more than keeping up with the hearth. The papacy made mandates that women should be be on the same field of battle as men, but one ignored it and the other cared little of it. When the tie could become electric, it broke in order for her to look at the boy who benefited from the work his mother did. "Aodhan tells meh he's spoken tae ye boy n' his great granda's way. Dae ye have Norwegian blood in ye? Tis good fer him tae have a playfellow wot can speak it. Tis important to remember who ye are."

[johanna]

Johanna felt a connection too, and though the impassive mask that was her face shared no signs of particular affection, nor inaffection, she greatly liked Beathag. There was a mutual understanding and respect, for both being strong women and having faced trials and tribulations that came in hand with being a female warrior. She trusted Beathag and felt most comfortable with her, and hoped, in time, they would become better friends.

"Nien, it is my honor." She said with a wave of her hand then nodded. "I vill have it done as soon as possible und bring it to die castle, ja."

She glanced briefly to Somerled who could pass for a blood son, though he had some mildly different characteristics. Johanna had gold blonde hair and scintillating blue eyes, while Somerled had white blonde hair and equally bright eyes, but green. He was narrowly boned and had this slight delicacy about him. When he trained with Hanna using the blunt practice swords, he showed the potential signs for quick-silver agility instead of brute strength.

Her eyes returned to the Scottswoman "I am half Norwegian, ja. Somerled is full Norwegian, I find him dere as an orphan, ja," She nodded, "Feel, ah, velcome to bring him here anytime. It vould be good for Somerled to play vith a boy his age und for me zo he is out of, ah, my hair, ja."

"Vil du snakke Norsk?" Certainly not Gaelic for Johanna, nor German for Beathag. But perhaps Norwegian?

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Polite turns of phrase and the observation of social moors kept the two from a deeper expression of what was inside. Often, a warrior was stunted, and warrior women paid the price of having to keep their natural selves tempered for the sake of the steel they wielded. Beathag was able to read, like Hanna could her, the signs of such a thing. A smile was geniune but not as full as it might have been. But the eyes held everything.

"Ja , bedre enn Engelske," she replied, "skjønt ingen snakker den inne familien bevare meg og meg sønnen." Two turned to four. Beathag, Johanna, and the boys could speak the same language. Often, not knowing English was becoming a hinderance, and two thick accents on the common tongue could be abraisve. "Aodhan, gae on. Say hello. Somerled speaks like ye grandfolks did." The little boy was thrilled. Aodhan's eyes sparkled with renewed vigor to keep at the tricky language as he went over to Somerled. From his jerken, he pulled out a little pouch where inside would be his favorite wooden toys. While some things needed words, an invitation to play was universal.

Looking over to the armor, then back to the woman, Beathag felt a sincere feeling of admiration pass through her. It was one thing to be attended to by a skilled smith, and another when that smith was a woman and knew the same plight.

"The honr is truly mine, Johanna."

"Takk skal du ha for slik arbeide."



"

[johanna]

Somerled came around from behind his mother to the younger boy shyly. A small smile pressing his lips, stepping foreward with a little push from his mother when she placed her hand on the back of his shoulders.

"Hallo," He greeted in a Norsk accent that differed from his mother's, who just had a very thick German accent. He beckoned him over to a smaller table in the corner that was low, suitable for children as it was made for Somerled. And there they'd begin playing. Somerled pulling out some metal toys of knights and damsels, willing to play and even exchange.

Johanna watched them a moment. Wishing that Somerled wasn't so timid at times. Returning her attention to Beathag she nodded.

"Utleie oss aksje det Honolulu." There was a silence that lapsed for a moment, but it was a thoughtful silence on Hanna's part. Light sapphire eyes tracing back to the two young boys as they played and exchanged in Norwegian. Happy to see Somerled slowly warming up to him; friends would be good for him. He spent too much time alone in the shop with her. Or with her in the fields. He needed to playmates.

"Vi burde møtes igjen. Med våre sønner, ja?" Johanna looked back to Beathag and tried a smile that succeeded more in her eyes, as always.

[Queen Beathag Aberdeen]

Somerled was a bright boy, for his hair gave the illusion of a halo above his brow. Golden strands of wheat fell where they pleased, but soon a shy boy was granted a playfellow who was by no means shy, but boisterous! Beathag was content that her son had such a friend, for it was rare indeed he could find any at all. Children the island had a'plenty, but as he grew older he was finding that some could not see past the differences in his appearence.

"Indeed."

The reply came in English, for her mind lapsed between one language and the next, a cant of head with a short chortle. The Duchess walked the distance toward Johanna as she surveyed the remainder of the shop. What was it, to have the craft of the kindred still at your fingertips? She spent time on the docks to remember her forefather, touched harp strings to remember the women.

The blacksmith shop of a woman reminded her of her own personal legend: A highland Valkerye