Evolution

Chapter 21

Brynja's children were growing so quickly and keeping up with wild-hearted Katja gave her an idea of what it must have been like for Frigga to keep up with her in the years before she was shut up in the walls. Katja was just a few days short of her eighth birthday when Fandral burst into the kitchen and tossed a torn, dirty shirt on the kitchen table where she, Brynja, and Sunny were discussing her birthday plans.

"Fix this for me, wife, for tonight the warriors feast victorious!"

Brynja shoved it aside with her pen, "It needs to be washed before I can properly mend it."

He protested, "No, it will not dry in time."

"Then you will have to find another shirt."

He quickly grew angry, "Perhaps you do not understand, but I fought in this shirt, I won in this shirt, and you will make it ready for me for our victory feast."

"If you expect your wife to work miracles, you should have married a sorcerer," she shot back.

His temper flared, "If you cannot make it ready, I will send you back to your father to live in the walls." He slammed the door behind him as he left the house.

Brynja used the pen to pick up the shirt. She took it to the laundry vat and began to scrub it. After it was clean, she took it outside, her daughters following, and whipped it in the sun.

She turned to the girls, "Don't tell your father I'm going to use a little bit of house magic to dry this. I would rather he believe that he is very very lucky it dried in time." Both children nodded. She muttered a charm and snapped it one more time and the water fell from the fabric in a sheet. She brought the shirt inside and looked at the tears in the fabric. She cursed, "Shit, I hate doing things for that man when he's pissed me off." She turned to the kids again, "I'm just going to do the whole damn thing with house magic. Then we can get back to planning for Katja's birthday, OK?" The children smiled and cheered- they hadn't seen her perform the little household miracles before, but she was tired and knew they wanted, more than anything, to get back to planning the party. She flicked the fabric in each of the places it was strained or torn and they wove themselves back together. She threw the shirt over a chair, "When he comes back, he'll be happy and so will we. Now, Kat, what do you want to do for your birthday dinner? You know you grandmother will be happy to have anything you'd like made."

Katja grinned, "I want to have lots of different pies! And maybe even real dinner food, but mostly pies!"

Brynja laughed, "We will definitely have pies. And what else do you want?"

Katja thought for a moment and her face fell, "I want to hear Uncle Thor's stories, but Father would never allow that, would he?"

Brynja sighed, "No, no he wouldn't. And he'll insist you act like a lady and dress quite fancy for your feast. You know what he thinks."

Katja was glum for a moment, but then brightened, "We'll ask Grandmother to tell stories, then, or Grandfather! Father won't dare to tell either of them not to and I know they must know stories!"

Brynja nodded, "We can ask, but remember that they also both know what your father feels about such things. They are unlikely to completely defy his will."

Katja picked at a spot on the table, "Why does father always have to ruin our fun?"

Brynja had no answer for her.

At Katja's birthday feast, there most certainly were a lot of pies. Frigga had seen to it that any pie the child could think of was sitting on the table waiting for her to sample. Even dinner was served as pies- meat pies, vegetable pies, pies with filling spiced so exotically it was not entirely recognisable as to whether it was meat, vegetable, or something new.