Fic: Sowelu (Flukt, gen)
Title: Sowelu
Author:
arsenicjade
Fandom: Flukt/Escape
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: recollection of attempted rape, consideration of dub-con
Summary: Signe can take care of them--so long as the weather cooperates.
AN: Written for May rare-fandom challenge on
hc_bingo. My squares were "family," "orphans," "taking care of somebody," and "hunger/starvation." Beta'ed by
somebraveapollo, all remaining mistakes are all on me. "Sowelu" is the nordic rune for "wholeness."
The cabin, even with the smell of murder and loss, beckons to Signe. But despite knowing Dagmar is dead-and she does know, felt the moment it was all over, her hands a useful weapon at last-she cannot stay here, cannot keep Frigg here. Where they are going is something else entirely, something Signe has no ideas about, but what is certain is that moving has kept them alive until now. She will trust in it to do so for a bit longer.
*
It is still warm enough in the lowlands to find berries, to wade into the streams and grab hold of the fish in the way Signe's father taught her. It will not be for long, though, and both of them know it. Their options are to find a way to survive the winter in the forests, or to find a village willing to take them in. Each poses its own risks. In the aftermath of the plague, food and shelter are scant, and the jobs that earn them even more so.
Signe knows there is one thing she can do, but she refuses to think upon it. When she gets caught in the consideration, she is always on the cold, muddied ground again, twigs and rocks poking at her back, the too-heavy weight of a man atop of her. She hasn't the time to dwell. To keep herself-Frigg-fed, she will do as she must, and she will not think of what her mother or father or brother would have said, how they would have looked upon her. They are not here. Frigg is.
Most of all, she does not allow herself to feel fear. When it tries to creep upon her she closes her eyes and tastes the sharp-snapping wind of her fall into the water and thinks, "I will not fail."
*
Signe works to teach Frigg to shoot. It is of no surprise to her when Frigg catches on naturally, far more patient and dangerous than Signe will ever be with the tool. Even so, with the temperatures dropping and the snow beginning to fall, heating a fire is both more imperative and ever harder. They both become ill after eating a rabbit on a night when a fire was impossible, when the only shelter they could find was an alcove, barely even an outcropping. As they are both coming apart from the inside, Signe reminds herself they have survived worse. The words become stronger than any faith.
*
They find a village as fall creeps into the air, but none of the first three houses they come upon has any room-or desire to make room-for them. The fourth has a man who looks at Frigg in a way Signe knows all too well, and even though she can feel the warmth of the fire, smell the rising bread, she says, "Thank you," and pulls Frigg away, fast as their legs can carry them.
*
Winter does not come any more quickly than it would any other year, but quickly enough. The first snow fall leaves them both damp through and through. Signe wishes they could take down a bear. She knows the basics of skinning and preserving, could make herself and Frigg warmer garments. But an arrow is a small weapon against a creature of that size and finding bears at this point in the year is a dream, at best.
The scant traffic on the road-wagons from which they could sometimes beg a scrap or two, a day's ride, if they felt it safe-disappears as the temperature drops. And every edible plant withers to wait out the season. When there is no good road, they stay along brooks and ravines, so as to have water, if nothing else. It is too cold to drink, hurts going down, but it is something.
They are both stumbling more than before. At times, Signe will return to awareness on her hands and knees, Frigg calling frantically to her. At other times, Signe will put aside everything to draw Frigg up, keep the both of them going. Frigg will make it past these woods, make it to safety. Signe has failed one sibling. She won't destroy her second chance as well.
*
Signe hears the hunting party in the early dawn. She's woken by their movements. They do not speak. She makes sure Frigg is covered-camouflaged-as best possible, and slips away to follow. They will have food. If only she can steal a little; a hunting party means a town must be within a day's riding range.
She is small, and has learned to be quiet even in the forest, scattered with now-dead leaves and birds just waiting to be flushed from nests. But she is also slow and shaky, tired and cold, scared and alone. When one of the men catches her, pulling her hair-first away from his pack-she'd waited, she'd waited so patiently for them to leave, he must have forgotten something-she doesn't scream, because Frigg might hear, might come.
Instead she steels her mind against what she is saying, what she is doing and says, "Please, please. I will do anything, please. My sister needs food, please."
The man who has her is not that old. His face has the beginnings of a beard, but she cannot imagine he is so far past his twenties. He stares at her for a long moment and says, "If I let you go, are you going to run?"
She considers for a moment, and then shakes her head. He has food, and she has told him she will do anything for it, for Frigg, who is hopefully still sleeping. Maybe there will be enough for her to have some, just a little, enough to keep her going until she can find Frigg safety. He backs away from her, holding his hands where she can see them.
She hopes he is not going to try and be kind about it, not careful or slow. They have made a bargain, and Signe will honor it, but she does not want more than her decency taken from her. She does not want to give this man anything she has not offered.
After a moment, he says, "You're a child."
Signe doesn't bother answering; there is no good response. He sighs. "Mother is going to kill me."
*
The man-Bartel, as he tells her-calls out for a "Henk," and before Signe can run, because she's only promised Bartel obedience, not, not-
Henk is there and he looks…exactly like Bartel. Signe blinks. Bartel laughs a little. "My twin brother."
Henk seems equally perplexed by Signe's existence. Bartel asks, "Can you take care of this? She has a sister. I'll take them back to town."
Henk is silent for a moment, then strips himself of his outer coat. "Give yours to the other one. And give them something to eat before this one falls over."
Signe wants to be mad at the presumption, but when he hands the coat to her it is still warm from his skin, the first real warmth she's felt in so long. She stutters, "Th-thank you."
Henk's smile is strange, a bit sad, but not threatening. Softly, he says, "Go."
*
Signe finds her way back to Frigg easily enough, but even when they have Bartel's furs lain over her, they cannot get her to wake. Signe pinches and shakes and yells at her, but nothing will bring her back. Signe presses her forehead to Frigg's, takes comfort in the breaths that crest over her skin at the proximity.
Bartel lifts Frigg as though she weighs nothing-perhaps she does, perhaps Signe has already failed-and says, "Come."
*
The home Bartel takes them to is little more than four clay walls and a thatched roof with a chimney, but inside it is fairly roomy, and the warmest place Signe can ever remember being. There is a woman inside, older than Bartel and Henk, but strong-looking, solid in her stance despite the white strands of hair, the deep laugh lines in her face. Bartel nods at her. "Mother."
Mother lifts an eyebrow at the three of them and says, "When you said you were going hunting this morning, I expected a different result."
"Henk is taking care of it," Bartel reassures her. "This is-oh. I don't know your names."
"I'm Signe," Signe says, her voice tight in her throat. "And that is Frigg. We-" She is not sure what to say. She does not want to inconvenience this woman, but she needs to. After a moment she tries, "She's a good carver and getting better at hunting, and I can mend and cook and clean."
For a moment, Mother's eyes shine in a way Signe thinks reflects pain. Quietly, she says, "Yes, well. First, I think, we need make it so that you are up to all these wondrous manual labors you offer."
Signe opens her mouth to say thank you, to promise they will take as little as possible, anything. She shuts it again when she tastes tears dripping over her lips.
*
Mother, whose name is Griete, draws water from the well and heats it over her fire. Bartel has been sent out for the village healer. In the meantime, she and Signe work to clean Frigg with warm rags. At one point, Griete pushes Signe slightly away. "Clean yourself. I will take care of her."
Signe takes the rags to her skin, trying not to cry anew at the feeling of warm, clean water. She does not take her eyes off of Frigg, but Griete is nothing if not gentle.
The healer, a slight, elderly woman, comes in more briskly than her age would suggest and after taking in the scene says, "Oh, Griete."
The two of them set to work getting both girls into the nearest pile of blankets. Signe is given a bowl of broth. Griete holds Frigg as the healer spoons slow sips into her mouth, the two of them massaging her throat to get the liquid down. At some point, even with the fear pumping sluggishly, insistently through her veins, Signe cannot resist the feeling of being full and warm. She falls asleep, waking at times to murmurings she does not understand.
At one point, she wakes to find Frigg snuggled into her, making sounds in her sleep and after that, nothing wakes her for a long, long time.
*
Signe wakes to the smell of meat roasting, the sound of a fire crackling, and Frigg's quiet laughter. She blinks to clear her eyes and sees that Bartel and Henk are both in the house, now, along with Griete. They are sitting at the small table in one corner, across from the piles of blankets. Moving hurts, but Signe does it, intent on seeing what has gotten Frigg to smile.
The twins are playing with a top, showing Frigg how to make it spin on its stem. Even engrossed in the project, Frigg notices Signe first. Her smile isn't wide or open, but it is real, and she's in Signe's arms before either of them realize there's been movement at all. Signe runs her hands down Frigg's back, not even sure what she's checking for, simply that she needs it to be there.
Frigg pulls back and looks at Signe for a long time. Then she nods her head and pulls Signe over to where she's been playing. Griete says, "You need to eat, child."
Now that she doesn't feel as if the only thing she will ever know again is exhaustion and cold and endless hunger, it is easy for Signe to offer, "I can prepare something for all of us."
Griete shakes her head. "Perhaps next time. For now, play."
*
Signe does her best not to be a drain on the family's resources, to stretch the time before Griete kindly, but firmly tells them they cannot afford two extra mouths. She feeds Frigg up, and helps around the home and village in whatever ways she can.
After a while she notices little pieces of something-someone-missing from the household. A scrap of a toy that is too new to be either of the boys', odd silences that seem to spring from nowhere. On a day when Signe is able to bargain the milk seller down so as to come home with an extra jug for half the price, she heats it as an evening treat, mixing in some almond juice and honey.
Griete almost drops the cup when she tastes it, Signe's hands coming over hers at the last moment, apologies on her lips. "I must not have made it right. Mother always-"
"I suspect," Henk says, looking up from where he is teaching Frigg a carving trick, "you made it perfectly right."
Signe does not ask, because she's not here to cause these people pain, but Griete offers, "My daughter used to love this drink."
Mieke had been her name. Griete tells them, "We lost her to the fever when she was coming into her eleventh winter. It's…it's been years."
If there is anything Signe knows about grief, it is of its power. She says, "I didn't mean-"
Griete looks at her. "She would have been your age, just about. A little older, I suppose."
Signe isn't sure how to respond to that, if her presence is a balm or an ever-open wound. Griete squeezes one of her hands. "It was a miracle, that day the boys found you."
She finishes the milk slowly.
*
Eventually, the earth begins to thaw, leaves and flower buds poking tentatively out. If Signe and Frigg are to move on, find another safe spot for the next winter, it will have to be soon. She will miss Bartel's soft humming and the games Henk comes up with at any given moment. She will miss Griete's quiet concern and encouragement.
But two more mouths to feed is a burden, and the girls have discussed it, agreed it is unfair to the family, to repay their kindness with greed. They set out on the longest day of the year. Frigg is familiar with the area by now, as the twins have often taken her out to hunt. They still have the bow, and now they have winter furs.
Signe grasps Frigg's hand and looks over at the smaller girl. After a moment, Frigg smiles up at her. It's a bit shaky, but then, Signe feels that way, too. Together, they walk from their most recent home.
*
The twins find them before mid-day. They spread out a blanket and coax the girls into eating the picnic foods they've brought along. Henk says, "Mother noticed your packing efforts."
"And I know what goodbye looks like," Bartel adds, a little accusatory, but mostly sad.
Frigg shrugs. "We're not yours. You don't have to keep us."
Henk shakes his head. "You're ours as much as each other's."
Signe knows this is not true. There are different shades of family, and Bartel, Henk and Griete are one, true, but Frigg is something darker, deeper. "We're a tax on the household."
"One we gladly pay," Henk answers.
Signe doesn't understand, doesn't know how to understand. She wonders what she would have done, had her family come upon strangers in need, wonders if she would not have begrudged them food she could have eaten. She looks at Frigg. Frigg bites her lip and looks at the ground.
Bartel breaks the silence with a quiet, "Please. Please don't ask us to grieve another two sisters."
Signe's eyes cut to him and she blinks. His smile is small, uncertain. After a long moment, she begins to pack up the picnic containers. "Griete will be needing help with the wash."
Author:
arsenicjade
Fandom: Flukt/Escape
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: recollection of attempted rape, consideration of dub-con
Summary: Signe can take care of them--so long as the weather cooperates.
AN: Written for May rare-fandom challenge on
hc_bingo. My squares were "family," "orphans," "taking care of somebody," and "hunger/starvation." Beta'ed by
somebraveapollo, all remaining mistakes are all on me. "Sowelu" is the nordic rune for "wholeness."
The cabin, even with the smell of murder and loss, beckons to Signe. But despite knowing Dagmar is dead-and she does know, felt the moment it was all over, her hands a useful weapon at last-she cannot stay here, cannot keep Frigg here. Where they are going is something else entirely, something Signe has no ideas about, but what is certain is that moving has kept them alive until now. She will trust in it to do so for a bit longer.
*
It is still warm enough in the lowlands to find berries, to wade into the streams and grab hold of the fish in the way Signe's father taught her. It will not be for long, though, and both of them know it. Their options are to find a way to survive the winter in the forests, or to find a village willing to take them in. Each poses its own risks. In the aftermath of the plague, food and shelter are scant, and the jobs that earn them even more so.
Signe knows there is one thing she can do, but she refuses to think upon it. When she gets caught in the consideration, she is always on the cold, muddied ground again, twigs and rocks poking at her back, the too-heavy weight of a man atop of her. She hasn't the time to dwell. To keep herself-Frigg-fed, she will do as she must, and she will not think of what her mother or father or brother would have said, how they would have looked upon her. They are not here. Frigg is.
Most of all, she does not allow herself to feel fear. When it tries to creep upon her she closes her eyes and tastes the sharp-snapping wind of her fall into the water and thinks, "I will not fail."
*
Signe works to teach Frigg to shoot. It is of no surprise to her when Frigg catches on naturally, far more patient and dangerous than Signe will ever be with the tool. Even so, with the temperatures dropping and the snow beginning to fall, heating a fire is both more imperative and ever harder. They both become ill after eating a rabbit on a night when a fire was impossible, when the only shelter they could find was an alcove, barely even an outcropping. As they are both coming apart from the inside, Signe reminds herself they have survived worse. The words become stronger than any faith.
*
They find a village as fall creeps into the air, but none of the first three houses they come upon has any room-or desire to make room-for them. The fourth has a man who looks at Frigg in a way Signe knows all too well, and even though she can feel the warmth of the fire, smell the rising bread, she says, "Thank you," and pulls Frigg away, fast as their legs can carry them.
*
Winter does not come any more quickly than it would any other year, but quickly enough. The first snow fall leaves them both damp through and through. Signe wishes they could take down a bear. She knows the basics of skinning and preserving, could make herself and Frigg warmer garments. But an arrow is a small weapon against a creature of that size and finding bears at this point in the year is a dream, at best.
The scant traffic on the road-wagons from which they could sometimes beg a scrap or two, a day's ride, if they felt it safe-disappears as the temperature drops. And every edible plant withers to wait out the season. When there is no good road, they stay along brooks and ravines, so as to have water, if nothing else. It is too cold to drink, hurts going down, but it is something.
They are both stumbling more than before. At times, Signe will return to awareness on her hands and knees, Frigg calling frantically to her. At other times, Signe will put aside everything to draw Frigg up, keep the both of them going. Frigg will make it past these woods, make it to safety. Signe has failed one sibling. She won't destroy her second chance as well.
*
Signe hears the hunting party in the early dawn. She's woken by their movements. They do not speak. She makes sure Frigg is covered-camouflaged-as best possible, and slips away to follow. They will have food. If only she can steal a little; a hunting party means a town must be within a day's riding range.
She is small, and has learned to be quiet even in the forest, scattered with now-dead leaves and birds just waiting to be flushed from nests. But she is also slow and shaky, tired and cold, scared and alone. When one of the men catches her, pulling her hair-first away from his pack-she'd waited, she'd waited so patiently for them to leave, he must have forgotten something-she doesn't scream, because Frigg might hear, might come.
Instead she steels her mind against what she is saying, what she is doing and says, "Please, please. I will do anything, please. My sister needs food, please."
The man who has her is not that old. His face has the beginnings of a beard, but she cannot imagine he is so far past his twenties. He stares at her for a long moment and says, "If I let you go, are you going to run?"
She considers for a moment, and then shakes her head. He has food, and she has told him she will do anything for it, for Frigg, who is hopefully still sleeping. Maybe there will be enough for her to have some, just a little, enough to keep her going until she can find Frigg safety. He backs away from her, holding his hands where she can see them.
She hopes he is not going to try and be kind about it, not careful or slow. They have made a bargain, and Signe will honor it, but she does not want more than her decency taken from her. She does not want to give this man anything she has not offered.
After a moment, he says, "You're a child."
Signe doesn't bother answering; there is no good response. He sighs. "Mother is going to kill me."
*
The man-Bartel, as he tells her-calls out for a "Henk," and before Signe can run, because she's only promised Bartel obedience, not, not-
Henk is there and he looks…exactly like Bartel. Signe blinks. Bartel laughs a little. "My twin brother."
Henk seems equally perplexed by Signe's existence. Bartel asks, "Can you take care of this? She has a sister. I'll take them back to town."
Henk is silent for a moment, then strips himself of his outer coat. "Give yours to the other one. And give them something to eat before this one falls over."
Signe wants to be mad at the presumption, but when he hands the coat to her it is still warm from his skin, the first real warmth she's felt in so long. She stutters, "Th-thank you."
Henk's smile is strange, a bit sad, but not threatening. Softly, he says, "Go."
*
Signe finds her way back to Frigg easily enough, but even when they have Bartel's furs lain over her, they cannot get her to wake. Signe pinches and shakes and yells at her, but nothing will bring her back. Signe presses her forehead to Frigg's, takes comfort in the breaths that crest over her skin at the proximity.
Bartel lifts Frigg as though she weighs nothing-perhaps she does, perhaps Signe has already failed-and says, "Come."
*
The home Bartel takes them to is little more than four clay walls and a thatched roof with a chimney, but inside it is fairly roomy, and the warmest place Signe can ever remember being. There is a woman inside, older than Bartel and Henk, but strong-looking, solid in her stance despite the white strands of hair, the deep laugh lines in her face. Bartel nods at her. "Mother."
Mother lifts an eyebrow at the three of them and says, "When you said you were going hunting this morning, I expected a different result."
"Henk is taking care of it," Bartel reassures her. "This is-oh. I don't know your names."
"I'm Signe," Signe says, her voice tight in her throat. "And that is Frigg. We-" She is not sure what to say. She does not want to inconvenience this woman, but she needs to. After a moment she tries, "She's a good carver and getting better at hunting, and I can mend and cook and clean."
For a moment, Mother's eyes shine in a way Signe thinks reflects pain. Quietly, she says, "Yes, well. First, I think, we need make it so that you are up to all these wondrous manual labors you offer."
Signe opens her mouth to say thank you, to promise they will take as little as possible, anything. She shuts it again when she tastes tears dripping over her lips.
*
Mother, whose name is Griete, draws water from the well and heats it over her fire. Bartel has been sent out for the village healer. In the meantime, she and Signe work to clean Frigg with warm rags. At one point, Griete pushes Signe slightly away. "Clean yourself. I will take care of her."
Signe takes the rags to her skin, trying not to cry anew at the feeling of warm, clean water. She does not take her eyes off of Frigg, but Griete is nothing if not gentle.
The healer, a slight, elderly woman, comes in more briskly than her age would suggest and after taking in the scene says, "Oh, Griete."
The two of them set to work getting both girls into the nearest pile of blankets. Signe is given a bowl of broth. Griete holds Frigg as the healer spoons slow sips into her mouth, the two of them massaging her throat to get the liquid down. At some point, even with the fear pumping sluggishly, insistently through her veins, Signe cannot resist the feeling of being full and warm. She falls asleep, waking at times to murmurings she does not understand.
At one point, she wakes to find Frigg snuggled into her, making sounds in her sleep and after that, nothing wakes her for a long, long time.
*
Signe wakes to the smell of meat roasting, the sound of a fire crackling, and Frigg's quiet laughter. She blinks to clear her eyes and sees that Bartel and Henk are both in the house, now, along with Griete. They are sitting at the small table in one corner, across from the piles of blankets. Moving hurts, but Signe does it, intent on seeing what has gotten Frigg to smile.
The twins are playing with a top, showing Frigg how to make it spin on its stem. Even engrossed in the project, Frigg notices Signe first. Her smile isn't wide or open, but it is real, and she's in Signe's arms before either of them realize there's been movement at all. Signe runs her hands down Frigg's back, not even sure what she's checking for, simply that she needs it to be there.
Frigg pulls back and looks at Signe for a long time. Then she nods her head and pulls Signe over to where she's been playing. Griete says, "You need to eat, child."
Now that she doesn't feel as if the only thing she will ever know again is exhaustion and cold and endless hunger, it is easy for Signe to offer, "I can prepare something for all of us."
Griete shakes her head. "Perhaps next time. For now, play."
*
Signe does her best not to be a drain on the family's resources, to stretch the time before Griete kindly, but firmly tells them they cannot afford two extra mouths. She feeds Frigg up, and helps around the home and village in whatever ways she can.
After a while she notices little pieces of something-someone-missing from the household. A scrap of a toy that is too new to be either of the boys', odd silences that seem to spring from nowhere. On a day when Signe is able to bargain the milk seller down so as to come home with an extra jug for half the price, she heats it as an evening treat, mixing in some almond juice and honey.
Griete almost drops the cup when she tastes it, Signe's hands coming over hers at the last moment, apologies on her lips. "I must not have made it right. Mother always-"
"I suspect," Henk says, looking up from where he is teaching Frigg a carving trick, "you made it perfectly right."
Signe does not ask, because she's not here to cause these people pain, but Griete offers, "My daughter used to love this drink."
Mieke had been her name. Griete tells them, "We lost her to the fever when she was coming into her eleventh winter. It's…it's been years."
If there is anything Signe knows about grief, it is of its power. She says, "I didn't mean-"
Griete looks at her. "She would have been your age, just about. A little older, I suppose."
Signe isn't sure how to respond to that, if her presence is a balm or an ever-open wound. Griete squeezes one of her hands. "It was a miracle, that day the boys found you."
She finishes the milk slowly.
*
Eventually, the earth begins to thaw, leaves and flower buds poking tentatively out. If Signe and Frigg are to move on, find another safe spot for the next winter, it will have to be soon. She will miss Bartel's soft humming and the games Henk comes up with at any given moment. She will miss Griete's quiet concern and encouragement.
But two more mouths to feed is a burden, and the girls have discussed it, agreed it is unfair to the family, to repay their kindness with greed. They set out on the longest day of the year. Frigg is familiar with the area by now, as the twins have often taken her out to hunt. They still have the bow, and now they have winter furs.
Signe grasps Frigg's hand and looks over at the smaller girl. After a moment, Frigg smiles up at her. It's a bit shaky, but then, Signe feels that way, too. Together, they walk from their most recent home.
*
The twins find them before mid-day. They spread out a blanket and coax the girls into eating the picnic foods they've brought along. Henk says, "Mother noticed your packing efforts."
"And I know what goodbye looks like," Bartel adds, a little accusatory, but mostly sad.
Frigg shrugs. "We're not yours. You don't have to keep us."
Henk shakes his head. "You're ours as much as each other's."
Signe knows this is not true. There are different shades of family, and Bartel, Henk and Griete are one, true, but Frigg is something darker, deeper. "We're a tax on the household."
"One we gladly pay," Henk answers.
Signe doesn't understand, doesn't know how to understand. She wonders what she would have done, had her family come upon strangers in need, wonders if she would not have begrudged them food she could have eaten. She looks at Frigg. Frigg bites her lip and looks at the ground.
Bartel breaks the silence with a quiet, "Please. Please don't ask us to grieve another two sisters."
Signe's eyes cut to him and she blinks. His smile is small, uncertain. After a long moment, she begins to pack up the picnic containers. "Griete will be needing help with the wash."