Valknut

CHAPTER|41 Chance Encounter

Kieran glared at his project. What was he thinking! It had seemed so perfect. Perhaps too perfect! This opportunity to win her favor had simply... fallen into his hands. At first, it had felt as if the Gods were on his side. Encouraging him.  Now, looking at the unfortunate mess that lay on his table, he wondered if this were truly a blessing! Curses! With one sweep of his hand, he cleared his table. As a sharp pain tore through his fingers, he cursed again. Splinters! He’d had enough. 

All day Kieran had spent splitting wood, fashioning then into planks – well as closely as possible. And then smoothening the cracked surface with an adze. Then, following the carpenters instructions, he had used charcoal to outline the pattern he thought would look nice and took a swing at carving with various gouges and chisels and tiny hammers. Almost nightfall and the only thing he had to show for his efforts, was a floor cluttered with wood shavings, poorly hacked pieces of wood, nails, dribs of stain, and various tools.  

Kieran sucked on his finger, and pulled at the splinter with his teeth. He stomped over to the other end of his study and ran his eyes over the remaining planks of wood. Absentmindedly, he began sorting through the stack. Too thin… too thick… wrong color… wrong size… wrong quality… still wet… pssh! Frustration seemed to get the better of him and he debated over taking a break and grabbing a bite instead. 

Fresh air would clear his mind. He stepped out of the study, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed through the quiet halls. Kieran looked around him in surprise. He hadn’t paid attention to how much time he had spent in his study. It seems day had turned into night and not a soul was about. He clutched his loudly grumbling stomach and turned towards the stairs. Cook would have something in the kitchen somewhere. 

Just as he raised his hand to push open the kitchen door, a sound halted Kieran. Slowly he tip-toed closer and placed his ear to the door. He strained to hear the sound again. Seconds ticked past and nothing. Just as he was about to attribute the sound to his imagination, he heard it again. That sounded like… rustling parchment… followed by the scribbling sound of a quill nib. He closed his eyes and covered his ears as the nib scratched the parchment more vigorously. Gods how he hated that sound! 

He straightened himself before softly edging the door open. At the table sat Kára. His breath stuck in his throat as he watched her. She sat in a plain white ankle length shift, her robe open, barely hanging on to her shoulders with the constant movement of her hands. Her hair fell to her waist in soft copper curls and her fingers were stained with ink. She stopped from her furious scribbling and took a minute to stare at the wall in front of her, chewing on her thumb nail. As she reached to dip her quill into the ink pot yet again, she toppled over the mug of hot ginger tea that sat beside her. She mumbled curses as she pushed back from the table to avoid being drenched in the hot liquid that now flowed slowly towards the edge of the table. 

Kieran walked up behind her, grabbing a kitchen rag from the side. “What's keeping ye up this late?” he said as he extended the rag to Kára. 

Caught unaware, she jumped at the sound of his voice. Her hand clutching her chest, she turned to face him. “Dinnae do that. Ye scared me.” 

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to. Looks like ye got yourself a mess here. Let me help.” 

He reached for the table just as Kára reached for the rag in his hand. Their fingers touched. They looked at each other for a brief moment before she quickly withdrew her hand. “Yer cold.” Kieran said and turned to look around him. “If yer sittin' here this late, how come didnt ye keep the fire going?” 

“I dinnae like fires.” She mumbled looking at the floor. As if feeling the cold for the first time, she pulled her robe closer. 

Kieran walked to the hearth and poked the dying embers. With the ashes cleared, the fire breathed new life. He threw a few small sticks in and blew till they caught fire. Then he dumped a few logs on top. Satisfied, he walked back to Kára, yanking at the ties of his cloak. He pulled it off his shoulders and wrapped it around her. Then he turned to mop up the mess.