11) Birdsong
Late morning sunlight woke her as it inched across the bed to touch her hand. She sat up and stretched against the stiffness of sleepy limbs, trying to ignore the ungainly bulge of her belly. Neither dog nor giant were present, though she smelled the smoke from the giant's pipe. Finally she decided that she felt brave enough to slip out of the bed and explore the room. Porridge had been left on the hearth in a normal sized wooden bowl, close to the fire to keep it warm. A large cauldron, filled with water, stood heating over coals carefully raked away from the ashes. The table was tall, but not impossibly so; the top was even with the bottom of her ribs when she stood next to it. There was a single chair for the table, and four cedar chests stood around the edges of the room. This morning the book was closed and pushed to the side with ink and quill neatly arranged nearby. In its place was a tangle of wood and metal wire that, if it had a purpose, Bronwyn couldn't even begin to guess at what it might be. The soft sounds of birds spilled in through the windows.
She circled back to the hearth and carefully ate all of the porridge left to her. She grimaced a bit at the lumps and the gluey taste of the oats, but found that she couldn't stop once she'd started. The babe moved inside her a bit, and she froze until he stopped, struggling with her horror and curiosity. Her hands clenched and unclenched, and she waited for the nightmare to begin, but it stayed away. It was kept at bay in the darkness of her mind by the smells of woodsmoke, tobacco and evergreens.
The sound of someone whistling drifted through the tall windows, and she stood awkwardly, abandoning her seat on the edge of the hearth. Faintly, she heard her dog barking, and the giant called out to him, admonishing him not to get himself lost or hurt. The door swung open and the giant entered, carrying a stout washtub. His hair was wet, pulled back into a tail at the back of his neck, and he smelled of herbs and lye soap.
"Good morning, Miss Bronwyn, almost afternoon." He smiled as he put the tub down next to the hearth. “It's wash day, and lasses and dogs aren't exempt. The little fellow cooperated well enough, but I hope I don't have to hold you under by your scruff." He winked and she smiled at the image; the dog had never liked baths. The other meaning of his words sunk in and she took a step back.
"You don't mean to give me a bath, do you?" He poured the steaming water from the cauldron into the tub, which was certainly big enough to bathe in if she didn't splash too much.
"Well, unless you insist, no, there's not much dignity in giving a grown woman a bath like a child." He laid out a cake of brownish and lumpy soap, flecks of herbs suspended in the waxy stuff, and pulled a towel from one of the chests. With a flourish he produced another shift, made of plainer stuff than the fine-combed cotton of the one she wore, and a faded blue dress that seemed to have been made of one of his shirts. He held the dress out to her and she stepped closer to take it from him.
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"Did you make this?" She'd known male weavers, but never known a man to sew anything more than patches or shoes or leather. The stitches were a bit long, but strong enough.
"Nah, my brother's widder did. She also, in case you wondered, took care of bathing and turning you while you were off your head. You were too frightened of anything tall and broad for me to tend you that way." His smile faded to a gentle but serious look of concern. "There's nothing here that will hurt you, miss. Nothing at all, and I swear this on the bones of the very earth." The rumble of his voice deepened and resonated through the stone foundations and walls of the room, a power answering him from the rock beneath them.
She nodded, speechless. She remembered the garment in her hands and held it up to her face, smelling the warm homespun, feeling the softness on her cheek. The babe moved again, pushing sharply up against her kidneys and she gasped. "Nothing that I haven't brought here myself," she answered, putting a hand to her side.
"No, miss. Even that will go easy. The child is small, likely because you were so sick for so long, and you're not poorly built, if you'll forgive me for saying it." He actually blushed, and she felt her fear of him lessen a bit. They heard a flurry of wings and mad barking beyond the door, and Bronwyn smiled, delighted with the sounds of her dog's success.
"What's the dog's name, if I may ask?" He turned to look out the door in the direction of the noises.
"I don't know. He's never left me long enough to need to be called." It suddenly occurred to her that it might seem strange that her dog had no name.
"You'll have to think on it, then, if you wish. It's always better that important things have names, and he saved your life these past weeks ago, when he came and found me and brought me to you."
"I will. I'm sorry, but you seem to know everything about me, and I know nothing about you at all. Do you have a name? Or shall I name you as well?" She realized that she was teasing him and stiffened, fear gripping her belly, or perhaps the porridge just weighed heavily on her.
"I'm Grahme. I'm going to go and see if the lad's taken on more than he can handle. I wonder that his ma didn't give him taller legs for such a long body."
"He's fierce, but thinks he's bigger than he is," she replied absently, laying the dress and the clean shift on the bed. Grahme glanced back at her.
"Perhaps he comes by that honestly." He smiled gently. "Call me if you need anything, or when you're done, whichever comes first. It'll be time to put on supper soon."
She listened to the excited barking. "If you'll bring me the coneys he's hunting, I'll cook them for you tonight." The giant's eyes crinkled with his smile, and she found him easier to look at when she noticed that the corners were creased with smiling.
“You just tell him to stay out of the pigeons; I’ve use for them.” He left and she eased out of her shift and into the hot water, wistfully remembering something distant but sweet, sweeter even than the smoke of the giant's pipe.