It was dawn when the sound of hooves pounding on the packed earth of the road disturbed the sweet chorus of birds. I was sitting outside with Sif, side-by-side on an old fir stump. We were gazing out over the bubbling river and crashing waterfall, taking a moment for ourselves before getting back to the task at hand. Our legs were stretched before us, our hands supporting our weight on the back of the stump. 

Riverfell Hall didn’t receive many visitors, and we hadn’t been expecting the swordmaster. Nevertheless, the house was too out of the way for weary travellers. Whoever was travelling to Riverfell Hall was doing so with a purpose.

After exchanging a glance, we jumped up from the stump and waited by the road to greet the rider, patting down our skirts and adjusting our caps. We were only servants here but no one else was awake to receive them.

The rider came into view, cantering up the road from the riverside. They were dressed in a heavy fur cloak, with their face hidden by a steel helmet with a leather mask underneath. Sif took a sharp intake of breath, then rushed for the house. I thought at first that she might be afraid - but then the rider reached up and pushed off their helmet.

*

I had only worked for the family at Riverfell Hall for a few months. As such, I had only met the lord of the manor and his son, Torsten, who had not yet reached his sixteenth year. I didn’t learn about his mother until my second month of service. I hadn’t asked; it wasn’t my place. Yet Torsten saw fit to tell me one day while we had one of our little talks over the cooking pot. His father, Birger, was not the person who afforded their isolated luxury. It was his mother, the famous shieldmaiden, Yrsa. She was the eldest daughter of the late Torsten the Great, and thane to her sister and his successor, Cecilie.

I knew of her name and deeds, though I had never met her personally. I had heard songs in her honour and tales of her victories before I came to Riverfell Hall. I travelled, you see. Before settling here, I moved between villages and towns, picking up work at local inns wherever I could. Many were frequented by bards who sang of her valiance to a room full of stone-faced mead drinkers. I confess I never paid much attention either. The work was often taxing. I seemed to have a knack for ending up with manipulative employers - the type that made it seem like they were doing me a favour by providing me with a cold, damp, rat-infested cellar to sleep in and endless days of gruelling work where visitors were allowed to put hands where they shouldn’t. I supposed they kept me safe from slavers, but the pay was next to nothing. As you can imagine, I grew tired of that life. So when I overheard a drunkard slur out the news of a maid position here, I left without thinking.

*

Now when she first removed her helmet, it took me a moment to realise that it was, indeed, a woman atop the heavyset horse. Her jaw was square, her skin dirty from riding and dark from the sun, and her nose was sharp and proud. Her unwashed red hair was pulled away from her set brow in braids, and her steely grey eyes were hard and determined. Never had I seen a woman with such strength. Her eyes fell on me as she stopped her horse, and I swallowed.

It was her voice that gave her away, deep and gruff as it was. 

‘I can’t say I’ve seen you before.’ 

I took note of the sheathed sword hanging from her belt and answered above the beating of my heart. ‘I am the new maid.’

Her horse shifted beneath her, but her gaze didn’t break. ‘I see. Your name?’

‘Helly, my lady.’ Then quickly added, ‘Helleborus is my full name.’

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‘Helleborus…’ she repeated. ‘That’s an unusual name.’

I realised I should be serving her. Abruptly, I said, ‘Allow me to take your horse-’

‘No,’ she interrupted, with a breathy laugh. ‘I’ll see to her. You can accompany me and tell me what has happened over the last six months, if you like.’

‘Well, I can tell you about the last three months.’

She smiled as she tucked her helmet under her arm and dismounted her horse, keeping a firm grip on the reins. She guided her horse through the paddock to the side of the house and towards the stable, where she began to remove the saddle. I kept my distance, standing attentively by the shelter, awaiting her questions. None were forthcoming.

I turned back to gaze out over the road, towards the river. The birds were singing again, greeting the sun as it rose behind the grey clouds, turning them white like cotton. I loved to spend my mornings outside here, before the rest of the household stirred. It was the simple pleasure of watching the sunrise in all its colours that broke up the monotony of my days. Sometimes it would burn red over the mountains and trees. Others pink, like a flower. Most were like this. Grey, cold, and windy. The forest whispered secrets around the lonely hall. 

The sound of metal hitting the wooden floor made me jump. Now the horse was seen to, she was removing her armour. She laughed at my startled expression, and I found myself embarrassed. I whipped back around, keeping my stare forwards. She was decent, clothed in a basic tunic and leggings, but it seemed impolite to watch.

I had begun to relax again, listening to the soothing sounds of the forest, when she said, ‘You’re not much of a talker, are you?’

I glanced back over my shoulder with raised eyebrows. ‘I am your servant, my lady. I am bid to answer whatever questions you have.’

It was apparent she was amused from her lopsided smile. She was picking up her armour now, slinging her chainmail over her arm. ‘All right. First of all, how is Torsten?’

It warmed my heart to know that he was first on her list. Torsten didn’t vocalise it much, but it was clear that he missed her. His eyes said more than his mouth when he spoke of her over my simmering stew. 

I didn’t feel it appropriate to say so, however. Instead, I said, ‘He is well. When he’s not studying, the master has his head in books.’

She nodded, stepping across the wooden slats to stand beside me. ‘And he’s been good for Glyrna?’

‘Yes. Well, as good as a rebellious young boy could be.’

She nodded and her eyes crinkled as her smile widened. ‘That sounds about right.’ She gazed out over the paddock. ‘You’ve had no bother at the house, I assume?’

‘No. We only ever receive messengers, bringing letters to the master.’

She hesitated before asking, ‘And how is the master?’

‘Well.’ I said, with a nod. ‘But he frets.’

‘Of course he does.’ She said, with a hint of disdain. I looked at her from the corner of my eyes. She wasn’t smiling anymore. ‘Is there any work for me around the house?’

I shook my head. ‘Sif and I have been handling things.’

‘You’re good with your hands then?’ She asked, with a new smile that was different. ‘Are you married?’

The question took me by surprise, but I didn’t suppose it was that unusual for an employer to ask about such personal matters, especially as they provided me with food and a bed. All the same, I looked at her inquisitively as I replied, ‘no.’ 

She looked at me with that different smile, her eyes a clear silver in the morning light. There was something about those eyes, the way they…

But before she could ask another question, we were interrupted. Torsten was awake, and outside, and hollering for his mother across the other side of the paddock. And as sure and true as an arrow, she sprinted for him, her arms outstretched.

I flopped back against the wooden support, taking a shaky breath. I felt a little dizzy.