One can not judge battle without first knowing peace. One can not know peace without visiting turmoil. One can not visit turmoil and appreciate it without first seeking tranquility. The cycle continues, and it's hard to break.
It's true, though. The gains and losses of war can not be measured without first realizing the time of peace. The pros and cons of peace can not be weighed until that time of battle comes. It's wicked difficult to fall out of that loop.
Change comes more often with war than with peace. Changes in times of peace often lead to war. Changes in times of war often lead to peace. It's another vicious cycle.
The sky is empty of clouds but full of birds. Much time has passed since the stand-off that had cost Gunnhild her eye, but the wyrm still lives it. The days are nearing to the birth of Astrid's child. Her belly has swelled a great deal since Denby and Havelock forever departed to Asgard. She and Gunnhild have taken to tending the animals and farm alone, and to help the wyrm, Astrid has lent her companion the swan-feather mantle. In little time, Gunnhild became capable of lifting progressively heavier objects. She also learned to adapt to her lack of a right eye. By the end of February, she could essentially 'feel' objects to her right without touching them.
Now it is about mid-March. Astrid sits in her rocking chair, knitting, while Gunnhild watches the thawing ground of encroaching spring. Her attention is captured by a flock of birds returning to their summer abodes.
*Lady Astrid?* she prjects, turning her head to watch the birds with all of her eye.
"Yes, Love?" Astrid responds, smiling and looking up from her knitting.
*Could we go for a fly? Please? It's been so long...*
Astrid chuckles, placing her knitting in her basket. "I have a better idea." She opens her chest that sits at the foot of her bed and pulls out teh glistening cape of white feathers. "I've a need to finish my knitting, so why don't you go out on your own?"
*Really?* Gunnhild's face lights up and she turns fully towards lady Astrid who is nodding and grinning. *I'd like that so very much!*
"I figured as such." The woman fastens the mantle about Gunnhild's throat.
*What I wouldn't do for a good set of fingers.*
Astrid chuckles. "Be back before dark, eh, Love?"
*Shall, Lady Astrid! Thank you so much!* Astrid opens the door for the wyrm, and Gunnhild sails out, smiling.
The sky is warmer than it used to be. The sun is shining and the mass of blue elates little Gunnhild. She cheerfully chases after a flock of birds who had been eying her in a strange manner. Tiring of this after some time, she begins merely floating about the sky.
She relaxes, closing her eyes happily. Suddenly, something large comes up behind her. Spikes flairing, Gunnhild spins to see a Valkyrie. The woman is familiar, but the wyrm can't place her.
"Why so far from home, little one?" the woman asks, a slight tone of mocking in her voice.
*Why so inquisitive, Lady?* Gunnhild responds coldly.
"Rona," the woman corrects the dragon. "I didn't think it would be so easy to find you."
*And to what, pray tell, do I owe the pleasure of your visit?*
"It's a delicate matter from the Norns that is difficult to explain."
*Out with it.*
"Well... Okay." Rona flicks the clasp to the mantle Gunnhild wears and snaps it off the wyrm's body while saying, "Lady Astrid will need you soon."
Gunnhild floats there as if immune to gravity. She stares at Rona as if she wished the woman were dead, and then the wyrm begins to glow. Her body elongates and seems to become wrapped in something. That something whips out from her body, forming two wings with a large wingspan. The glowing subsides, and with little enough effort, Gunnhild remains at the same altitude as Rona. *You'd best be right, for your own sake,* Gunnhild replies peevishly. She takes the commandeered mantle in her mouth and begins her flight home.
*Lady Astrid? Are you within?* Gunnhild's voice projects from outside the cabin. To Astrid, though, her voice seems different.
"I am. Is all well? You don't sound at all yourself," Astrid replies, waddling to the door.
*That's because,* Gunnhild says as the door opens, *I'm not.*
The image of a winged, red dragon with spiked wingtips, spined back, a scarred eye, and holding a feather mantle fills her vision. The woman wants to scream, to faint, to something, but she can not. She simply stands there and blinks.
*Is somewhat the matter?*
"No, naught."
*Are you going to let me inside?*
"Yes, of course," Astrid replies sheepishly, stepping aside to let the now-shrape inside. It's a tight fit, but by dropping momentarilly, Gunnhild makes it in. "What happened? How did you -? You've wings!" she remarks, closing the door behind the dragon.
*I do.*
"How?"
*I know not. I met Rona and she said you'd need me soon, and then she took the mantle from me and before I knew it, I was flying.*
"And the mantle?"
*I took it back.* Gunnhild offers her Lady the mantle. *It was so good flying home. Tiring, but good.*
Astrid nods, folding the mantle. "Sleep, Love." She pats Gunnhild affectionately on the head.
*Don't mind if I do.* She curls up in front of the low fire in the hearth and closes her eyes. Her leven breathing soon says she sleeps. For once, Astrid does not doubt it.
For about two weeks, Gunnhild rose with the sun and skimmed the skies, going higher and faster for longer times each day, drawing exhileration and energy from her morning excursions. Astrid learned early on to keep the door at least a breath ajar for her dragon friend. In exchange, Gunnhild does almost all of the feeding in the barn, though she keeps well away from the chickens. They don't like her, nor she them.
Returning from a morning flight and barn run, Gunnhild finds her lady pale and throwing very large amounts of pain into the air around her. *Lady Astrid!* the shrape exclaims upon entering the cabin.
"Dagny, Havelock's mother. She and her daughter, Edda, are midwives. Find Dagny and tell her I said it's time," Astrid replies, taking a deep breath.
*Time for what?*
"Gunnhild! Please! Find Dagny!"
*Yes, M'lady!* Filled with a sense of duty, Gunnhild nods her head and sails out the door. She hurries to Rumptlesfjord, carried on her large, red wings. Seeking the currents in the light breezes, she reaches the town soon enough. SHe then begins to glide to the baker's house where Havelock's family is living until their house is rebuilt.
*Dagny!* She projects widly, touching the minds of many in the area. *Dagny!*
'Who calls?' a voice in her head responds. The voice conjurs up a vision of Havelock's mother.
*I'm Gunnhild. We've met. Lady Astrid says it's time.*
'Time for what?'
*I don't know. She was saying something of midwives.*
'I'm on my way. I'll bring Edda.'
*Very good. I'll meet you at her cabin. You know the way?*
'I do. We'll be there, little Gunnhild. Trust me.'
*I do, ma'am. I do with all of my heart.*
"Astrid? Are you in there?" a younger, plump woman calls.
*She is,* Gunnhild's voice replies.
"Ma?" Edda asks, turning to her mother.
"It's alright. Be brave. Let's go," Dagny replies, smiling.
Edda nods and enters teh cabin, followed closely by her mother. She shrieks when she sees Gunnhild laying her head on the bed where Astrid lays, breathing heavilly. The dragon's spines flare in anticipation and the turns her head to see with her left eye the two women. The elder steers her daughter to the fireplace.
"Make a fire," Edda's mother tells the girl. Edda nods feverishly, grabbing tinder from a box nearby. Dagny then turns to Gunnhild. "Gunnhild," she says, reaching out to touch where the dragon's right eye should be.
Gunnhild backs up, off the bed, flaring her spines and issuing an annoyed chirp. *Ma'am, my Lady needs your help. We can reminisce at a later time. What can I do?*
"Yes, of course. I need water," the older woman replies, grabbing a pot from off the wall.
*There's some in the cellar.* Dagny shoots her a poisonous look. *I'll get it,* Gunnhild admits, taking the pot in her mouth and flying down into the spring cellar.
"Don't forget to breath, Miss Astrid," Dagny reminds her as she pulls the heavy blanket from the bed. "I trust you've more clean linens."
Astrid manages a laborous nod.
"Very good," Dagny says, pulling the linens from the chest at the foot of the bed.
"What's that?" Edda asks, pointing to the swan-feather mantle.
*None of your cursed business,* Gunnhild replies, placing the pot of water on the hearth stone and returning to her Lady's side. *How do you feel?*
"Like all of my organs are being ripped out of me."
Gunnhild turns to Dagny. *Is that normal?*
"She'll be fine. Edda, stop gawking and boil that water! When that's finished, find a knife and heat it in the water!"
Within the hour, Astrid's labor is finished. Dagny cuts the umbilical chord with the hot knife. Her nimble hands tie the chord and the hands the babe to Astrid. The placenta is issued forth soon after.
"You've a lovely girl-child there, Miss Astrid," Dagny says as Astrid takes the child to her breast.
"What'll you name her, Miss Astrid?" Edda asks, changing the linens on the bed for new, fresh ones.
"Edda, somedays I swear you're still twelve and not a marraied woman!" Dagny growls before Astrid can answer.
Gunnhild can't help but issue a chirping chuckle. *She is lovely, Lady Astrid.*
"Gunnhild, take the ladies to the barn for their fees," Astrid says quietly as the midwives finish changing the sheets.
*Yes, Lady Astrid.*
"No fee is necessary!" Dagny exclaims. "You've had it hard enough!"
"But-" Astrid begins.
"No 'but's about it! COme, Edda. It's time to go home." Dagny pushes her daughter out the door before turning to Astrid. "Take care of my Havelock and we'll consider it even," she whispers before following the younger midwife out the door.
Gunnhild closes the door behind them before returning once more to her Lady's side. She stares at the child who is a healthy red in Astrid's arms. The dragon flits onto the bed with Astrid. *What is her name?*
"I've not a clue." Astrid looks to the dragon and smiles.
*Dagmar. Her name is Dagmar.* Gunnhild nods.
"Oh? And how do you figure this?"
*Madame Dagny is wonderful, and should be honored for all she has done for you. Your child is beautiful, like the day. Dagmar.*
"Wonderful correlation," Astrid replies, nodding with approval. "It suits her. Dagmar it is."
Background by Backgrounds 2000.