“I am so sorry about that,” said Reynir, as he led Onni around the edge of the field where the wedding feast was taking place. “I have never worn this tunic, myself, so I had not realized how the runes might affect random strangers.”
“Never mind.” Onni found he could not be truly angry with his rescuer. “It must be an easy mistake to make. Don’t the runes for love and the ones for luck look very similar?”
“Not very.” Reynir tugged on his braid. “But never mind, I have an idea! Why don’t you turn the tunic inside out? That way, the… love-runes… will at least be hidden, and might lose their power.”
“Worth trying.” Onni reached for the tunic’s hem.
“No, no, hold on! Let’s find somewhere more private!”
Onni did not understand the fuss. (Surely, nobody would care if he went shirtless for a few seconds? At least, not once the runes were out of the picture?) Still, his agreeable mood persisted, so he spent some time helping Reynir look for suitable cover. This being Iceland, all they found was low shrubs; in the end, Reynir elected to act as a screen while Onni changed. The whole incident seemed to fluster him a great deal. He had to take a moment before leading Onni to his real assigned seat.
Which turned out to be at the bridesmaids’ table.
Onni should probably have expected this, given how Reynir was dressed, but he could not help feeling unworthy of such an important spot. Once he sat down, however, things got much better. He was welcomed, but only in a vague, friendly way: the bridesmaids were far too busy discussing the bride, and the wedding, to ask him any personal questions. Sitting in calm silence and hearing others’ cheerful gossip wash over him was not unpleasant.
After a long, peaceful while, he became aware of another conversation: two of the bridesmaid’s dates were discussing the practicalities of sheep-rearing. Hearing such plain, fact-based talk proved another source of comfort, one Onni had not known he needed. After a while, he felt comfortable enough to join in, asking a few basic questions, and listening to the sensible answers.
And then, Reynir joined in.
Hearing his voice, Onni felt a mixture of emotions. Some pleasure--caused, no doubt, by the gratitude he still felt over his earlier rescue--and some anxiety that his moment of social comfort was about to end. To his surprise, however, the conversation stayed on-topic. Reynir stated a few opinions, which were received with courtesy: no, with appreciation, even respect. It seemed that a couple of Reynir’s sheep had been the envy of the county fair, and his best ram was in great demand.
It made sense, of course. Sheep husbandry was Reynir’s actual job: he had been a mage for about as long as Onni had been a world traveller. So why was the fact that he was at least as competent as the other farmers such a surprise? Was it because he was so much better-looking?
Now where had that thought come from? Onni reached for a drink.
