The Azure Bottle: Chapter 8

 Chapter 8

Thyra pulled the dress up out of the bag and felt the soft silk fabric. It glided over her fingers and was of a regal blue.

    “That one is yours, the other is mine.” Hilda smiled and pulled out the green dress that rested below it. 

    “How am I to dance? I’m still injured.” Thyra asked, meeting Hilda’s gaze. Hilda cocked her head.

    “Didn’t the nurse numb your wounds?” Thyra nodded and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Then you should be just fine. Don’t worry, tonight will be fun. Come on, we need to get dressed.” Hilda scurried off into the bathroom, leaving Thyra to change in the main bedroom. 

    Once the dress was on and the sash tightened in the back Thyra looked herself over in the mirror. It was by far the most cheerful color she’d worn in a long time. Her hair was windblown and tangled, and she tried to run her fingers through the snarls. It did little to help, and in the end she surrendered to the hopeless knots. Hilda soon exited the bathroom, and Thyra was found speechless. Hilda was gorgeous.Thyra had always seen her as some impossibly tough sailor, incapable of being anything other than that. And yet, here she looked like the duchess her lineage suggested she was. Her red hair lay down her shoulders, unhindered by the leather band that usually wrapped around her head. Her dress shimmered as the sunlight caught the silk, and a smile spread across her face.

    “I look pretty good, don’t I? I know it’s probably a bit funny seein’ me so dressy.” she laughed, and Thyra immediately forgot her line of thought. Beautiful or not, Hilda was still just Hilda, tough and unimaginably outspoken. “Heck! You look great.” Hilda said as she draped an arm over Thyra’s shoulder. Her toothy grin was contagious, and Thyra soon found herself beaming. It had been such a long time since she’d been able to see anything but a ship. The bright colors were surprisingly pleasant after weeks at sea. 

    “Are you ready to go down?” Hilda asked, tossing a lock of her fiery hair over her shoulder.  Thyra nodded and smiled, and the two made their way out of the room and down the stairs. Thyra watched as sailors gathered below. There were a few young women wandering amongst them, not sailors, just visitors. 

    Arne was sitting at a table, his legs apart, and his body leaning forward. He held a mug of beer in one hand and with the other he held his captain’s hat, which he’d pulled from his head. The king was standing amidst other sailors and two young women, who both laughed about something he’d said. Thyra descended the last steps as the plump, red-faced innkeeper walked by. He stopped when he saw them.

    “Oh, oh, bless me! There you two are. We’ve all heard about your encounter with sirens, quite a nasty business. Some of the men want to hear about the event, but I wouldn’t bother you about it, such a dreadful thing. Well, well, is there anything I can get you two? Beer, rum, fish, or something else?”  

    “Two mugs of ale if ye’ don’t mind.” Hilda said and moved to put her hands in her pockets, then, realizing she didn’t have pockets, she just dropped them by her side. The plump innkeeper nodded then bustled off, upsetting two tables in his hurried motions. 

    Hilda and Thyra seated themselves at the table with Arne. He smiled at them as they joined him. 

    “Did the nurse fix you up, Thyra?” he asked, setting his captain’s hat back on his head. 

    “Yes she did. Do you know her?” Thyra leaned into her chair. Arne nodded. 

    “Yes, Hallie’s parents are friends of mine. It’s odd seeing her so much older these days.” He slouched down deeper into his chair. The innkeeper hurried over to the trio and set the two mugs of ale on the table. Thyra pulled her’s over to her. The wooden mug was well polished and sealed; with metal bands holding it all together. It looked vaguely like a barrel with a large metal handle on it. 

    She brought the mug up to her lips. The smell was the first thing to hit her. It was something like bile. Flinching, she took a sip, winced and set the mug down. Arne laughed as she pushed it away. 

    “It’s kinda an acquired taste ain’t it?” he asked as he set his mug down. Hilda continued to chug hers. Then set it down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, sighing contentedly. 

    “I’ll drink it if you’re not gonna.” she said. 

    “Sure, have it.” Thyra tried not to gag as the smells continued to waft over her. Arne laughed again and Hilda grabbed the mug and set it in front of her. Thyra watched the room around her closely, looking for the sailors from her voyage, something to distract her from the horrible taste that still lingered in her mouth. 

    A young girl she didn’t know picked up an old fiddle and began to play a lively shanty. There was a whoop from the sailors and the crowds quickly parted to make room for dancing. They even went so far as to pull some of the tables out of the way. A young woman joined the girl, taking her place beside her. As she opened her mouth, her song floated around the room and the dancing began. 

    The sailors linked arms with some of the girls and danced in circles. There were nowhere near enough girls to dance with, so the sailors often took turns, moving to the edges of the dance floor and letting the next sailor in line take a whirl. 

    When Hilda and Thyra were spotted, there was no way to be able to stay seated. The sailors urged them to dance, and Thyra had to fight not to laugh. When it came to dancing there had never been a shortage of girls, more commonly it had been a shortage of boys. The sailors hurried them over to the others and both girls were immediately in the center of the dance floor. 

    Thyra couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as she was whirled around the floor. It was comical to see the sailors dance, and to try herself to dance like one of them. Her graceful movements seemed out of place with the sloppy and choppy motions of the sailors. 

    Arne watched them with a smile on his face. Thyra hadn’t appeared so happy for a long time and for an equally long time he’d fear she never would be again. But the girl dancing now seemed every bit like the young child who’d stepped on his feet to dance while her father waltzed her mother around the living room. He could remember her childish smile and he leaned deeper into his chair, glad that she hadn’t changed as much as he had once thought. 

    The king stepped out onto the dance floor and whirled his cousins in graceful circles. He was about the only man here with more grace than the woman he danced with. Hilda’s motions were all too sharp and decisive; his motions flowed from his years of practice, and Thyra found herself watching him on more than one occasion. It surprised her and yet she wasn’t sure why. It shouldn’t be any impressive feat to move with grace; he had just never shown a side of himself that was anything except commanding and sharp. 

    The sailor who was dancing with Thyra stepped away and a different man moved up. They locked arms and danced in circles till he took her hand and spun her. She grinned as her dress spread, like an opening flower. The cheery blue was so beautiful and reminded her of the land she now knew and loved. The sea. 

    Even after the siren attack, even after the burning ship, it felt like home. It was the nearest thing to a home she’d had in a long time, and it was like a breath of fresh air. When if it did feel nice to have her feet on solid ground again. 

    At last, tired but happy Thyra slipped away from the dancing and sat down beside Arne. He watched her with a smile.

    “I haven’t seen you so happy in a long time.” He said, leaning forward, elbows on the table. Thyra smiled back at him.

“This feels so…free. Like the grief back home doesn’t exist here.” Even as the words slipped out from her mouth Thyra was surprised by them, surprised that she had said them, surprised how good it felt to say them, surprised that she was allowing Arne to have some level of understanding. It was like a load had been lifted from her chest and she felt lighter. The old captain smiled at her.

“I understand that. The pain felt nearer when we were near his old home, but here and fresh off the sea, it seems less pressing.” Arne looked at her, his eyes seemed to ask if that was what she meant. Thyra nodded and leaned back. 

           The night grew quieter as sailors made their way to bed, and the women returned home. The plump innkeeper continued to bustle about even as his hired men disappeared into their rooms. Hilda and her cousin joined Arne and Thyra at the table. The king leaned back his hands behind his head. Hilda was red faced and huffing. She looked exhausted but was somehow still smiling. The innkeeper joined them at the table once the other guests were in their beds, and the other lights were out. A lantern was placed gingerly on the table.

            Tired though they all were, they talked late into the night, the innkeeper leading the conversation with ease. As Thyra, and Hilda grew more tired their laughter grew louder with each joke, till at last they decided it would be best to retire. Thyra cast one last glance at the three men that sat around the table, and watched as Arne pulled a map from his jacket pocket. Her interest peaked, but her exhaustion outweighed it. She slipped into her room and closed the door soundlessly behind her.

. . . . .

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