"Effery day," said the skald earnestly, but rather than saddened, she seemed to be cheered by the memories of her home in the jarling of Brandr, her father's stone heall-keep and the longhouses she grew up playing amongst. "Bot vereffer I go, I tekk dem mit me, in here." She put a hand to her heart, smiling like the sun - because for all the sadness she bore, the weight of history pressing down upon her shoulders fit to smother a less bright and hardy soul, the best truth of a skald was that they were never alone. All that she loved, she carried with her with every step, be it further from or closer to home. And if home was where the heart was, well, then she had never truly left, had she? "Vun day, ven is all offer, I vill traffel back to Anderfels, to my home. Eef hyu vould like to come, hyu are velcome to eet."
The question of blood magic made Hilda tilt her head in contemplation, blonde hair swinging; as she considered the inquiry, she set her hands to work again, adjusting the lay of the backstraps over the fire, setting a pot of water to boil for tea, small chores around the campfire that always needed doing even if they rarely lacked for willing hands. "Magic is ferry rare among mein father's people. Der witchlings who are born, dey go to der tribes, or to der Tower. Ve know ferry leetle of magic, in der jarling, so, is all eqval, a ting to be careful about und no disturbed, like a snow leopard mit kits." Cautious avoidance was the name of the game in the remote regions of the Anderfels; in a land where so much blood was spilled on a regular, sometimes daily basis, magic fueled by will and spirit was practically indistinguishable from magic fueled by blood-sacrifice. "Und, I tink mein mother's people, der witch-tribes, dey might no onderstend vot hyu mean by blood magic. All magic is in der blood, ja? Eet rons in mein feins, effen if I am no a witch myself."
Thankfully, Hilda's minor chores around the fire were nothing that required a great deal of concentration or focused dexterity, because the further they delved into the subject of courtship, Ordhan, and the courtship of her by Ordhan, the more she lacked in these basic things. "In Anderfels," said Hilda, stirring the pot of water for the tea and as much addressing the distant mountains as Imenry, "an apprentice is no free to court or marry ontil dey are masters of der craft. To keep der yong vuns on der vork, hyu see, und no on chasing pretty tings in der snow." The stirring slowed, nearly stopped, then sped once she realized what she was doing, her expression one of mild consternation. Focus, sonnenstrahl! "Und as a voman, is der vay of tings dot eef a man vish to court me, he most defeat all of mein brothers un mein father in combat." An apologetic pause, as she realized how that must have sounded to someone not familiar with the culture. "Is to proof dot he is adamant, dot he is dedicated. Is no room for veek hearts in der mountains."
Imenry spoke of her parents so fondly that Hilda felt she already had a sense of their character, of the love that had grown to define their daughter and unlikely marriage. "Deeferent, ja," said Hilda, smiling and reaching to put her hand on the warrior-woman's shoulder, "but no less loffing, I tink. Like how I carry mein family mit me, Imenry, hyu vill alvays carry hyurs mit hyu. Is no a shame to miss dem - bot I tink dey vould be heppier if hyu remember dem und smile, for efferyting dey gafe hyu und taught hyu. Dey vait for hyu in Valhalla, vere der brafe may liff foreffer, und ven hyu meet again, dot day is der vun for tears - bot vuns of heppiness."
She saw Imenry's slight hesitation over the words, though, and her smile broadened a bit. "Hyu tink of somevun ven hyu say dot, I tink. Bot all souls may be vun offer, giffen time - und eef dere is no friendship, den dere ken be respect. Neffer doubt hyurself und hyu vort' as a friend."