Hilda let Imenry subtly manipulate the conversation away from more volatile topics; the women were bonding over newly-discovered similarities, but Hilda felt no need to push the envelope with someone who seemed to appreciate good, honest company. Imenry was a strong-willed woman, of this the skald had already seen, and she did not see any point in causing even the slightest butting of heads. Besides, where Imenry steered the topic was in the direction of one of Hilda's favorite places! There was no surer path into the skald's big, open heart than the promise of knowledge, especially stories and tales. "Ven ve tink ve stop for a vile, I vill build a banya, hyu vill tell der tales, und ve vill make a day of it!" she laughed, the image engaging. Likely the other party members would be happy to avail themselves of the services of both banya and stories. "In der Anderfels, skald are no elders - dere are master-skald, off course, who are conseedered elders by my peers - bot der leader off der fillages is der jarl, und if der jarl is avay, den his thanes."
Ah, Hilda was wondering much about Imenry's people as Imenry was about Hilda's! She wondered if perhaps her mountain-dwelling clan had been some splinter tribe of the Anderfeln people, though Imenry's dark hair and the shape of her face meant that if that were true, the two peoples separated millenia ago, at the least. Imenry's question brought her roving and curious mind more back into line with the conversation, though. "Only vun brother, bun seester. Mein father vos only child, but I have many uncles und aunts in der witch-tribes, vere der blood of many is strongest." The skald, at least, did not seem concerned with the idea that she might one day be birthing twins or triplets; then again, the Anderfeln woman was built for the bearing, and if her words were true, perhaps the blood of the witches somehow magically aided them in carrying their children to full term. Sigrdrifa was the greatest of her kind, married to a potent jarl secure in his rule - with the component of money to feed their mouths and magic to aid as it would, seven children had been more a blessing than a bane. Women still died in childbirth, true, and Hilda herself knew many tales where the mothers of heroes died that their sons and daughters could live... but such was the path of wyrd, winding and unpredictable. Hilda, who knew more about the wyrd than even the average skald, had long ago made peace with wherever her fate would take her.
It had brought her to Ferelden, after all, and to Ordhan and Imenry, and other friends and allies with strong arms and quick minds. A payment in blood for such services rendered was not an unfair bargain.
"Dere is a saying, among my people," said Hilda, rather lightly in the face of the dire pronouncement. "Wyrd ben ful araed. It means in der common tongue, fate cannot be changed. Hyu wyrd is bot' der path hyu tekk und vere hyu feet lead hyu, der choices made und no made. Mein wyrd, it lead me here," and she smiled and put a hand flat to her chest, tilting her head, hair falling in pale shining sheets in the light of the moon. "Jost because I come for vun reason, does no mean I do no find other reasons vile I am here." Then, an interesting question, Hilda blinking her bright blue eyes in curiosity. "I haff. I most traffel from Weisshaupt to arrife in Denerim, und I pass tru most of der contry on der vay. Vy do hyu esk?"