Angrboða slid and hit the ground hard. Fortunately, she was unhurt and both children were still safely holding her by each hand. They had been lucky enough to encounter the kindly toymaker willing to exchange his wares for a smile. Angrboða doubted they’d be so lucky as to find a healer who’d make such a trade.

From where he stood across the square, Thorsten watched Angrboða fall to the ground. Seeing her possibly hurt snapped him out of his stupor and he sprung into action, racing across the village square to her side. He held out his hand to her with a look of concern etched on his comely face.

“Are you hurt,” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” Angrboða replied.

It was then she looked up and saw the face she would soon fall in love with for a lifetime.

His eyes sparkled a brilliant blue with flecks of gold which caught the sunlight. The outstretched hand before her was a working man’s hand, rough and calloused. His mouth was formed into a slight smile she assumed was meant for her and not at her misfortunate fall. Gingerly, she took his hand and he lifted Angrboða to her feet with a strength she had never encountered before.

All her life, Angrboða had thought her father to be the strongest man alive. Dane gathered firewood and did other jobs for the jarl of their village. She knew him to be their protector and provider as he was good at both. Until the famine, her family was poor but they never wanted for anything.

Before her now was a tall, broad, and muscular man who seemed to be about her same age – perhaps in his early twenties at the latest. As he lifted her up, he pulled her close into his chest. Angrboða caught his scent and breathed in the warmth emanating from his body. For a moment they both wished could last forever, he held her close in his arms and they gazed into one another’s eyes.

Bjornvin was the one who ended the moment when he tugged at Angrboða’s skirt.

“Systir are you alright,” he asked sounding quite concerned.

Angrboða looked down at her little brother and smiled.

“Yes, I am quite alright,” she said.

Turning back to look at her would-be rescuer, it seemed he was now blushing as his cheeks were turning a ruddy red.

“Are you sure,” he asked her.

“Yes, I am sure,” Angrboða replied.

For another moment, the couple simply gazed at one another – holding each other with only their eyes. It was a sort of intimacy neither of them had ever known, but would become familiar to them both. The two children looked at each other confused and slightly annoyed that they were being inhibited from going to see the next vendor’s cart.

“Let’s go,” said Bjornvin growing impatient.

Kirsten stood still, holding her doll with great care.

“That is a lovely doll you have there,” Thorsten said gently.

The child looked up at him and blinked.

“Well give him some response,” Angrboða chided.

“Thank you,” Kirsten said looking down at her feet.

“Does she have a name,” asked Thorsten.

“Of course she has a name,” Kirsten said with impertinence. “All dolls must have a name.”

“Yes, that makes sense,” Thorsten said with a smile as he looked into the eyes of Angrboða another time.

“Her name is Katerine,” the child replied.

“Katerine and – what was your name little girl,” Thorsten said upon realizing he had yet to make any intruductions.

“My name is Kirsten and this is my doll Katerine.”

“Kristen and Katerine – how befitting to you both.”

“What is that supposed to mean,” retorted the child.

“I meant nothing by it,” Thorsten said awkwardly. “I was just attempting to make conversation and a poor job if it too. That happens when one spends too much time away at sea.”

“Are you a pirate,” Bjornvin asked as his eyes widened with intrigue.

“Oh no,” Thorsten replied. “I work on a merchant ship. In days of old, it would have been a raiding ship. These days though, there is little need for raiding when trade is such good business.”

“So you’re a business man as well,” Angrboða asked flirtatiously.

“Not as such,” Thorsten said blushing with humility. “One day I hope to manage my own ship and maybe even own a fleet. For now, I just work loading and unloading shipments learning the business as I go along. One day it’s knowledge I hope to put to use for my own profit.”

Angrboða smiled back at him already dreaming of what their future together could look like.

Thorsten wanted very badly to kiss her, but he thought best if he started by telling her his name.

“My name is Thorsten of Turku,” he said with gallantry. “It is a developing seaport in the south of Finland. The city is connected to inland areas by the Hämeen Härkätie, the oldest road in the region. I began working in the port as a boy with my father and two brothers. Since then, I’ve come up in the world and aim to make something more of myself in this life.”

“Sounds impressive,” Angrboða said.

“Yes, I suppose it does,” said Thorsten not realizing that he had sounded something of a braggard. He hoped not to have offended the lady, but she did not seem to be.

“My name is Angrboða and these are my younger siblings. You’ve been introduced to Kirsten who is eight years of age and my little brother Bjornvin will be turning five this yuletide. Our mother used to say that he was a gift brought to us by Father Christmas.”

“How lovely,” said Thorsten. Already, he could imagine sitting around a warm fire with Angrboða by his side on the stóll he would build to furnish their home. Perhaps a little boy or a little girl would be nursing at her breast while another older child played on the floor at their feet. He had to visibly shake his head at the thought before he got too far ahead of himself.

“Is something the matter,” Angrboða asked noticing his head shake.

“I am fine,” he said smiling. “Just thinking of the future. The trade business is good and I see every reason to be hopeful for our country and its people to prosper”

“It is good to hear we have come to a prosperous place,” Angrboða said. “The place we have come from was not prospering. That is why we had to leave.”

“I am sorry to hear you had to leave your home dear lady. However, I cannot be too sorry for it if that is the reason for our meeting.”

“Indeed it is.”

Bjornvin and Kirsten became restless and both began tugging at Angrboða’s skirt.

“I couldn’t help but notice the children have no shoes,” he said.

“It’s a pity they were the last thing we had to eat before leaving the village. The leather was tough, but I could be chewed a little after I boiled it in the pot for hours.”

“This will not do,” Thorsten said emphatically. He reached into his satchel and pulled out two pairs of leather shoes sized just right for the little boy and girl. The children looked up at him with awe as they reached for the shoes to cover their tiny frozen feet.

He lifted Kirsten onto a nearby bale of straw and slipped each shoe over her tiny toes.

“I can tie them myself,” she said proudly.

“Very well,” he said.

Thorsten then picked up Bjornvin and placed him on the same bale of straw. Seeing the boy’s feet had turned black with frost, he shook his head with pity.

“I carried them both,” Angrboða said finding herself nearly in tears again. “I couldn’t carry them at the same time and they had to take turns. I didn’t even notice his feet turning blue until we reached the gates of Naantali.”

“Don’t fret,” Thorsten said. “We’ll head into a tavern and get the lot of you warmed and righted. I don’t think the boy will lose his feet for this.”

Angrboða nodded, accepting his reassurance and together the four of them entered a pub whose sign read “Tavastin Kilta” above the door in red painted letters.