An Unlikely Bride 3

They left shortly after the sun began it's slow fall into the west, Thonvar had said his goodbyes to anyone in earshot and received the apologies of dwarves, an elf, and his brother. That was important, he let Oddvar know that he wasn't angry with him, how thankful he was for the second eldest brother's aloof kindness when they were young. Or at least as much as he could manage, words were hard for both of them and they parted with a firm handshake and a single-arm, double-pat to the back style of hug. Meanwhile the kobolds were fawning over Anza, every one had to stop and put their hand to her belly and utter something in their confusing, guttural language.

Probably just congratulating her on a job well done or something like that, giving her the usual wishes for children that seemed normal enough among all people. Who wouldn't want that?

Of course the kobolds also insisted Thonvar take the pelt of the slaughtered beast with them, but Hroki promised to somehow get it to him when the tanner was finished with it. Other trinkets were brought along, of course, claws and teeth were haggled over by kobolds and mages who both wanted them for their own uses. Finally Thonvar decided to split it in half just to settle it, he didn't want to hear another word about alchemy, totems, or charms.

When they got on the main road heading east it was clear that the journey would be both annoying and harsh, the southern mercenaries quickly peeled off from the main wagon train whenever possible and Thonvar wondered where they went. His wagon was one of the middle ones, it had been a "temporary gift" granted to him and Anza by her father. That wasn't a gift, that was borrowing, but the elf translating insisted that was the correct terminology. Break-downs were frequent and often because of just negligence and misuse of already worn equipment, the kobolds had absolutely no concept of preventative maintenance at all.

He wondered if the dwarves would have laughed at that, and on thinking about it, he guessed they probably would have. They were probably laughing at him as he lay there in the back of the wagon stuck waiting for a wagon up ahead to get fixed, but he was determined not to get angry about it. Anza insisted he stay, she curled up next to him and watched the sky with those pretty pink eyes.

Then they were moving again, forward to the mountains miles and miles away, he at least allowed himself a small mercy by unpacking a map and carefully studying their supposed route.

Ivarshold ended where Thorvalgen began, it was the eastern border of the Reach and the end of the old Fire-Hair Clan's ancient territory back when they worshipped sun, moon, and their dragon-god. Traditions of the north dating back to this time shaped the territory throughout the ages, when man was new on the continent of Anor and was at war with the hated elves. Dwarf kind had not yet abandoned the old ways during the Meredic Schism, they were still known as the Dvalmer even when Ivar Fire-Heart settled near the ancient land of Rangvaal.

They didn't respond to that name anymore, they gave up the marble towers and moonstone magic and embraced the tough mountains and it's ancient magic.

Northmen had also given up their old identity, the fair-haired and fire-branded were brought from their homelands by a magical warp tore into the mountain and sea. When the rocky, grassy badlands of the Reach proved to be enough for the red-haired horsemen they ventured out to hunt the aurochs and buffalo and to make the first stone cities of Men. Fair-hairs, locks of blond and silver, stuck to what they knew best and settled the fjords and forests that protected them from the terror in the sky. What that terror was, nobody could remember, but no dragon ever admitted to harassing the first Men of Anor.

They weren't afraid anymore, the fjordmen were incredible on the sea and pirates knew it was best to run from a northern king's fleet on the prowl; they lived for fighting on the waves. Their brothers in the mountains and forests of Rangvaal, east of the Reach, built hardy city-states ruled by jarls and kings; it was their land they would be passing through.

Easterners were stubborn and paranoid folk, too much time spent in the trees plotting how to kill each other over some sawn logs.

"Husband think too much," Anza chided, finally paying attention to the paper in their laps. "Who need?"

"We need. I'm remembering the way we're going," he answered, a finger tapping on the route. "That's Thorvalgen, the last place we will encounter my people."

"North man all every place," she retorted, claws circling the area forest lands of Rangvaal. "They husband people."

"No."

She looked up at him with confused eyes. "North is Reach, forest, mountain... How not your people, Thonvar?"

"Rangvaal is different, they do not come together like we do in the Reach. We have to, it is cold, nothing grows there without hard work. This is our way, it keeps us alive."

For the moment she seemed satisfied with that answer, but he could tell she was thinking about it. How else could he explain? Mountains to the south and west kept the Reach isolated and poor; if one wished to head to the territory of the dwarves and dark elves it was a long, lonely road across a treeless landscape. Somewhere in the lands of Rangvaal the roads south became passable, cutting through mountains and forest yes, but it wasn't the impassible frozen sentinels of elsewhere. Then there was the mighty Kjarvangir range, most prominent in the north, but it cut all the way south down to the Nagaea Bay and supposedly the subterranean "bones" formed the support for an island chain down there too.

He had never, ever been there and the thought of going down there genuinely frightened him. Regardless, the only other way to even go south was Bjark's Pass and he hadn't even been there much less beyond it.

A knocking on the wagon's side made him perk up.

"Elf says it's been four hours," the guard muttered, pausing to take a swig from his flask, "you and the 'lil lady there wanna make camp?"

"Where are we?" he asked, looking around. "Thorvalgen?"

"Aye, border post two miles back."

Thonvar sighed, he had lost track of time. "Where do we camp then? I was going to let the mules graze near the wagon and sleep here."

Instead of answering the southerner shrugged and rode off, leaving the red-haired northman sitting alone with the sleepy kobold. Camp. Seemed like work, and what's worse was the day still had plenty of hours left! They would take forever to get to the mountains at that pace, possibly not in time to beat the first snows.

He grumbled to himself and folded the map, cursing the day the first elf was born.

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They retired to bed early as before, he had taken the time to prepare a small lean-to for the wagon driver and set out some wrapped jerky and ale for the well-mannered kobold. Anza thought that was nice of him, but he didn't feel like seizing upon the advantage her cuddly attitude had presented, so they went to bed at nightfall while the rest of the camp fooled around. Nobody woke them up, but that didn't matter because he came-to with several sets of glowing eyes peering through the cracks down at him.

"What."

They scattered, but Anza had stirred awake with a happy coo as she stretched next to him.

"Morning, husband," she purred, snuggling underneath his arm. "Hungry."

"For?" he asked, wondering what his wife would send him to fetch.

She grinned and crawled from her side to a position on top of his chest, snuggling against the bare skin with a feminine giggle. He could guess what she wanted, it had been on his mind when she crawled under the furs very naked and pressed herself to him with a fleeting sigh. There was some reluctance on his part to deny her, his mind flashed back to the night before, but it wasn't enough to reverse himself.

"Human," she whispered, flicking her tongue against his chin.

He wasn't taking the bait. "We were being watched this morning, is that normal?"

"No, is fine," she murmured, kissing his chest. "Curious, never see--"

Thonvar sighed and flicked off the covers to her side. "We have so much road ahead of us," he wheezed, stretching down to pull up his leather leggings. "I'm not sure we'll make it home before the snows."

Hearing her frustrated sigh made him remember his place, by her side, and he flopped back down with a gentle exhale. In the morning light through the canvas roof she didn't look as desirable as she did before, he was suddenly worried if his attraction was a temporary thing. What if he never wanted her again? That would be... Very bad.

Then she kissed him, a gentle peck at first, but it made him respond with another and then she reciprocated and before he knew it his hand had found it's way down her nude body and between her parted thighs. He fully intended to at least give her that, but feeling her respond to him made him want it all. No, he wouldn't have any problem wanting his wife like a husband should; apparently she just needed to kiss him. If that's all it took then, well, he would not mind the--

A creak of wood stabbed a thousand lightning bolts into his head, he jerked his hand away instantly. A pattering of footsteps on the outside of the wagon was the only other noise besides the pounding in his ears.

"Tziguk!" she snarled, throwing her head back with a frustrated grunt.

"Sorr--"

She glared at him and muttered, "husband no worry, Anza fix. Thonvar go find food."

He had developed his own physical frustration too, so he definitely could related to her fury. Focusing on getting dressed again he ignored the angry kobold swearing up a storm behind him, but by the time his tunic was on she had settled back down and had her naked arms around him. Not in a sensual way, it was in the usual way that she had been acting since they met. This would actually be the first time they were apart for any length of time since marriage, she insisted on being within arm's reach at all times. He didn't know why, it was actually somewhat worrying.

Well fortunately he could finally take care of some private business on his way to get their day started.

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Hands washed and the wagon somewhat packed, he had returned back to her with a mash of potatoes, a cut of venison, with a side of beans in sauce. He simply didn't know what she could or couldn't eat, so he had resigned himself to the beans and potatoes and imagined she would scarf down the ham by herself. On the way he had learned their driver's name, Drond, it was a surprisingly normal-sounding name to his northern ears. That faithful kobold got his own plate and as much ale as his pinky finger could stand lifting in a pewter tankard, it was quite the task to bring it all back!

Anza was nowhere to be found, but Drond happily accepted his meal with an excited cackle.

So Thonvar ate alone and enjoyed the beans that he discovered were surprisingly spicy and flavorful, he wondered where they came from. That sauce would have been good with sour bread, but unfortunately he had none and there wasn't a bakery for at least an hours ride on horse. A mental note was made to remember to ask about them, perhaps it was something the kobolds made and not a southerner food.

Actually he had a kobold right there. "Drond, where are these beans from?"

"Sun town, my sir," he sighed.

Damn it all. Southerner mercenaries making food from home, he appreciated it, but that didn't stop him from feeling a bit envious about the exotic flavor. Then he wondered if his wife could cook or, really, if she had any skills at all! Well he knew of one talent she had, he blushed at the memory coming to him out in public.

"I wonder where my wife went," he thought aloud.

"Anza go tell at Uzkrig, make understand human want not seen when alone with Anza."

That time he really blushed, probably redder than the hair on his head.

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When she came back it was time to leave and so he had the wagon packed, mules hitched, and all their things tucked away in neat order for travel. Maybe she needed to see that, because she looked to be on the verge of tears seeing him there waiting for her. Or perhaps she was embarrassed about making him wait, he simply did not and could not know because she wouldn't speak of it. He didn't mind either way, as long as she was happy, his firm hands took her thighs and set her down in the wagon before hopping up himself with a neat spring.

"Husband get ham just for Anza?" she gasped, holding the hock of meat with two hands. "Thonvar..."

"Did you want the beans and potatoes instead? I didn't know if you could eat them. I'm sorry."

Anza shook her head and scoffed, her tiny fist moving around in the open air as she fought a mountain of frustration.

"How Anza say all Anza think?" she blurted out, butting her head into his shoulder. "Husband smart."

"I don't know, why don't you think about it while," his arm went out in front of her as the wagon started forward, "you eat your ham?"

With a sigh she looked at the grass moving away from them and sighed. "Ham is Anza thinks on, husband give just Anza wh--"

"How else will you give me a son if you don't eat?" he replied with a soft chuckle. "Or did you change your mind?"

She glared up at him. "Anza mind change never," she declared with a deliberate bite.

That was probably true, he was guessing that she had a very hot temper and was probably painfully stubborn as well. What had he gotten himself into? Thonvar laughed and shrugged, he was beginning to count his blessings by not having been married off to some of the women that had been offered to him. They had even worse character flaws on top of being ugly as sin, at least his kobold had a surprising allure to her. Maybe he just liked different things than what he was used to, even if it felt like a death sentence at the time.

On the other hand he had gotten married yesterday. He would need to keep track of these emotions and see how they develop, it would help him keep perspective and remember his path.

Since he had that thought he pulled himself in and got the map, Anza inevitably followed and sat next to him.

"We're here, Stig's Watch, you'll see it soon, and if we keep at this pace we'll wind up," he focused on their movement for a second to make a raw estimate, "here, just outside of Trygvegate."

"Husband know place?" she asked.

He remembered how bandits liked the craggy landscape, with caves big enough for horses and deep enough to hide in.

"... Yes. I am."