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Ealasaide · 01-13-2004, 05:53 PM

Sigrid

After having been stood up for dinner the night before by the highly charismatic and, she was discovering, unpredictable Ragnar, Sigrid went to bed depressed and uncertain. The next morning, however, she awoke refreshed and, after lying in bed for a few minutes with her dog Khajsa nestled against the backs of her knees, she decided that life was too short to get upset over things like broken dinner dates. She got up early with a song on her lips and, after a quick breakfast in the kitchen, gathered the inn's laundry and took it out back with two tubs and a washboard. She filled both tubs with water from the well, adding a bar of strong lye soap to one. The other, she left clear for rinsing.

Up to her elbows in soapsuds and laundry, she spoke to Khajsa, who lay on her belly in the grass nearby, chewing a stick. "You know," Sigrid said. "People sure do come and go around here." The dog wagged the tip of her tail politely. "It's hello, pleased to meet you, let's be friends, and boo! They're gone. You don't see them again." She was thinking about the events of the day before, the fire, and all of the people she had met, none of whom had been around - at least not that she had noticed - the next morning, with the exception of the innkeeper and her assistant.

"I suppose the carpenters are all working at the stables," she added on an afterthought. "But still. It will take some getting used to." She paused, a soggy pillowcase in her hand. "But what shall we do about Mr. Ragnar? That is, if he comes back. Some mud in his laundry, perhaps?" She laughed and the dog's tail thumped the ground agreeably in response. Sigrid had waited for Ragnar an extra hour before finally giving up and eating on her own. She never did see him return to the inn, so she supposed she should wait to see if perhaps he had been detained elsewhere before getting too angry with him. After all, she was the forgiving sort, but still the experience rankled in her memory. It was not often that she was asked to join a gentleman for dinner. She found it rather insulting for him simply not to show up.

She gave the pillowcase an extra hard scrub against the washboard, rinsed it well in the second tub, then carried it over to the clothesline that was strung between the back wall of the inn and the tree Khajsa had chased the cat into the day before. "There are other men, you know," she muttered, pinning the pillowcase to the clothesline to dry. Returning to the washtub, she started work on a sheet. "He's very good-looking, but, as mother always says, pretty is as pretty does."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 6:55 PM January 13, 2004: Message edited by: Ealasaide ]

01-13-2004, 05:53 PM	#283
Ealasaide Shadow of Tyrn Gorthad Join Date: Sep 2003 Location: The Fencing Lyst Posts: 810	Sigrid After having been stood up for dinner the night before by the highly charismatic and, she was discovering, unpredictable Ragnar, Sigrid went to bed depressed and uncertain. The next morning, however, she awoke refreshed and, after lying in bed for a few minutes with her dog Khajsa nestled against the backs of her knees, she decided that life was too short to get upset over things like broken dinner dates. She got up early with a song on her lips and, after a quick breakfast in the kitchen, gathered the inn's laundry and took it out back with two tubs and a washboard. She filled both tubs with water from the well, adding a bar of strong lye soap to one. The other, she left clear for rinsing. Up to her elbows in soapsuds and laundry, she spoke to Khajsa, who lay on her belly in the grass nearby, chewing a stick. "You know," Sigrid said. "People sure do come and go around here." The dog wagged the tip of her tail politely. "It's hello, pleased to meet you, let's be friends, and boo! They're gone. You don't see them again." She was thinking about the events of the day before, the fire, and all of the people she had met, none of whom had been around - at least not that she had noticed - the next morning, with the exception of the innkeeper and her assistant. "I suppose the carpenters are all working at the stables," she added on an afterthought. "But still. It will take some getting used to." She paused, a soggy pillowcase in her hand. "But what shall we do about Mr. Ragnar? That is, if he comes back. Some mud in his laundry, perhaps?" She laughed and the dog's tail thumped the ground agreeably in response. Sigrid had waited for Ragnar an extra hour before finally giving up and eating on her own. She never did see him return to the inn, so she supposed she should wait to see if perhaps he had been detained elsewhere before getting too angry with him. After all, she was the forgiving sort, but still the experience rankled in her memory. It was not often that she was asked to join a gentleman for dinner. She found it rather insulting for him simply not to show up. She gave the pillowcase an extra hard scrub against the washboard, rinsed it well in the second tub, then carried it over to the clothesline that was strung between the back wall of the inn and the tree Khajsa had chased the cat into the day before. "There are other men, you know," she muttered, pinning the pillowcase to the clothesline to dry. Returning to the washtub, she started work on a sheet. "He's very good-looking, but, as mother always says, pretty is as pretty does." <font size=1 color=339966>[ 6:55 PM January 13, 2004: Message edited by: Ealasaide ]