Binding Threads: A Short Story ✔️

IV

In the two nights before Idunn's Binding, Ville tried to piece together Idunn's apron with nothing but previous sample designs and memory. He also had time to contemplate other things: the reason why he was loathe to think of her Binding, the root of that wild desperation that drove him to destroy her bunad, and the actions he must take to repent. Planning and execution—that was how he'd always done things. Right up the moment before he'd thrown the bunad into the flames.

But he couldn't linger on heavy thoughts for long; he had work to do.

He intended to recreate the bunad alone in the two nights he had left, and he estimated he could at least make it presentable if he worked all day and night and rode hard to the north in the hopes that he could find her castle. For the first and most critical time in his life, he was placing his hope in luck.

But after Ragna disclosed all his wrongdoings, the village women wouldn't grant him the chance and barged into the shop to berate him. Then, help him.

Over two tireless and laughter-filled nights, they'd finally finished a faithful recreation of Idunn's apron. As the women were celebrating over walnut cookies, Ragna called him into the back bedroom.

"Child." She was sitting on the bed with only a lantern to light the room and her face. A large cloth sack sat next to her. "Come closer."

Ville was terrified of what Ragna might be planning to do to him for all the trouble he'd caused the past week, but he approached anyway.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Ville couldn't parse the meaning of the question and waited for Ragna to clarify, but she didn't say anything further. He gave in and asked, "I'm not sure why you called for me."

"No." She leaned closer to let her cloudy-gray eyes better discern his face. "Do you know why you're here with me? Sharing food, shelter, and business?"

Ville stared back with some confusion. "You took me in when I was a child."

"And why did I do that?"

This was a question Ville had turned over in his head since he met Ragna, but he couldn't ask her. Some part of him was afraid to question his luck for fear it would disappear. "I don't know."

She took the bag from her side and began to unpack its contents. "Because I chose you."

"You chose me?"

Ragna laid out a small bowl, a sharp dagger, and Idunn's charred apron. "Yes. These eyes of mine showed me. Freyja blessed me with them. All Cunning Folk have them provided they make the right sacrifices. I can see people's threads of fate. Even mine."

She turned milky eyes onto Ville with the same sharp lucidity that she had three decades ago.

"When I started my path of spell craft and magisk, I'd been able to study how the threads between people moved. All my life, I followed my threads from town to town, from person to person. Everyone who I may ever meet. There were countless threads. The threads that led me from place to place guided me to a child swindling nervous maidens at a Binding. After I found you, my threads dwindled to one—you." Ragna looked at him without her usual severity. "Do you know why you carry my only thread?"

Though dazed, he managed to answer, "No."

"Because I believe you are where I end. You have all the qualities I'd been looking for in a protégé because you weave your own path regardless of fate's designs. I saw myself reflected in you. My destiny ends and carries on with you." She smiled, rare and genuine. "It's time I taught you a little magic if you are to become the village's next Cunning Man."