By some miraculous Wyrd-cheat, no blood stained the flagstones at her wedding feast, though the warriors circled each other warily and cast dirty glances across the board. She hid the shaking of her hands—if Mother could remain calm through fourteen winters of terror . . . —and swirled the honey mead with honeyed words of peace. She hardly allowed herself to hope, but neither did she let herself glance more than once toward the weapons stacked like cordwood by the hall-door.
artemis.judith.athena
The day it happened, she stripped off her flimsy, treasured nylons, pulled on an old and sturdy Land Girls smock, and slung the quiver they'd given her for her fourteenth (or so) Christmas across her back; then walked straight out of town and into the woods. After hours of driven, desperate archery practice, when her arms quivered and she could no longer bend her bow, she strode home and straight to the telephone, dialed the number pressed into her hand the other night, and said yes, she had thought it over carefully, no, she had no family to leave behind, no, she was not afraid of blood or danger or death, and yes, she could come for training right away. As long as there is work to do, I cannot sit at home.
ungit.frigg.airmed
Long did she toil as shieldmaiden, striving for love and honor, or if denied those for the quiet of death, even death on a battlefield amid the clangor of bitter brands and snickering arrows. Yet while she fought, love stole up behind her and wooed her softly until her taut muscles softened and she let fall her guard. I will be a shieldmaid no longer, nor do I long to be a queen, said she at last, halsing him in her arms, and there was great joy betwixt those twain, so that none could put it into speech.
all fair in war and love
By some miraculous Wyrd-cheat, no blood stained the flagstones at her wedding feast, though the warriors circled each other warily and cast dirty glances across the board. She hid the shaking of her hands—if Mother could remain calm through fourteen winters of terror . . . —and swirled the honey mead with honeyed words of peace. She hardly allowed herself to hope, but neither did she let herself glance more than once toward the weapons stacked like cordwood by the hall-door.
artemis.judith.athena
The day it happened, she stripped off her flimsy, treasured nylons, pulled on an old and sturdy Land Girls smock, and slung the quiver they'd given her for her fourteenth (or so) Christmas across her back; then walked straight out of town and into the woods. After hours of driven, desperate archery practice, when her arms quivered and she could no longer bend her bow, she strode home and straight to the telephone, dialed the number pressed into her hand the other night, and said yes, she had thought it over carefully, no, she had no family to leave behind, no, she was not afraid of blood or danger or death, and yes, she could come for training right away. As long as there is work to do, I cannot sit at home.
ungit.frigg.airmed
Long did she toil as shieldmaiden, striving for love and honor, or if denied those for the quiet of death, even death on a battlefield amid the clangor of bitter brands and snickering arrows. Yet while she fought, love stole up behind her and wooed her softly until her taut muscles softened and she let fall her guard. I will be a shieldmaid no longer, nor do I long to be a queen, said she at last, halsing him in her arms, and there was great joy betwixt those twain, so that none could put it into speech.