Chapter 11
The New Normal
Alron opened his eyes, his senses slowly adjusting to the dimness of the surroundings. He blinked, his vision adjusting to the faint, golden light cast by a lamp hung on the wall. With a start, he realized that his arm had been resting on Freya's shoulder, her outline dim but familiar in the low light. Alron exhaled deeply, taking in the heavy, floral scent of the incense that filled the room. "It's morning already," he murmured to himself. The scent was strangely calming, almost rejuvenating, filling his chest with a sense of renewal as he slowly sat up. Alron gently patted Freya on the shoulder as he stood, signalling he was awake and ready to leave. The touch of his hand on her shoulder caused Freya to stir, her eyelashes fluttering before her eyes slowly opened, taking in their surroundings with a look of mild confusion. Freya's voice was tinged with exhaustion, and she gave Alron a sleepy shoo-away gesture with her hand. "I'll sleep a little more," she mumbled, closing her eyes again. "You go do something."
Alron shrugged and emerged from the room and made his way to the main chamber of the temple, the scent of burning incense guiding his path. There, he found the old priest sitting quietly, a peaceful and contemplative expression on his face. The priest's voice cut through the silence as he spoke, his face still turned away, his eyes closed in meditation. "Go help Gunnar with his animals today," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Alron muttered an assent, knowing there was no point in arguing with the priest. He made his way towards the main door of the temple, the chilling morning air hitting him as he stepped outside.
It had been nearly two weeks since he and Freya had been catapulted through time, but the strangeness of it all still disoriented them. Despite the time that had passed, the feeling of being displaced in time still loomed over them both. The temple authorities' financial situation meant that Alron and Freya were left to fend for themselves, and to earn their keep, they undertook various tasks within Wofur. The work not only helped them gain a sense of purpose and belonging in this new setting but also assisted with their accommodation. Alron had surveyed the town, noticing the changes that had taken place. The houses that had once stood to the east were now deserted, while new buildings had appeared to the west. The whole settlement seemed to be in a constant state of evolution and change, a living entity that moved and adapted to its surroundings over time.
As Alron made his way towards the farm, he was acutely aware of the gazes of the townsfolk around him. Some glanced at him with curiosity, while others looked at him with what seemed like a mixture of awe and fear. Others still, merely regarded him with indifference, their eyes flickering over him without a second thought. He tried not to let the stares bother him, but the intensity of some gazes was hard to ignore. Still, he kept his head high, his eyes forward, as he continued on his path towards Gunnar's farm. The walk to the farm was a short one, and soon Alron could see it ahead of him. The familiar sight of the farm came into view, the animals, the barns, the fields. Alron could feel a sense of anticipation as he wondered what tasks Gunnar would have for him today.
Gunnar's voice rang out in a cheerful greeting, his tone warm and friendly. "Ahh, my boy from the past," he said, a smile on his face. "No Freya today?" Alron spoke softly, "She's sleeping extra" his voice then tinged with regret as he confessed that Freya was still struggling to come to terms with the situation they were in. "It's still hard for her... for us," he said, pausing momentarily as he considered the fate of his family. "I still don't know what my family would have endured without me." Gunnar patted Alron's shoulder sympathetically, his eyes reflecting understanding and empathy. "Give it time lad," he said gently, his voice filled with compassion. "It'll probably take years for both of you to truly understand and come to terms with your new reality." Gunnar gave Alron a list of tasks for the day, instructing him to feed the cows and pigs first and then milk the cow until Gunnar went to water the crops. "Hopefully, she'll show up by then," Gunnar added, referring to Freya. "Alright," Alron responded, accepting the tasks assigned to him. He started on the first task, heading towards the barns where the cows and pigs were kept. The animals were making soft noises as they shifted and settled in their pens. Alron fed the cows and pigs, making sure each animal had enough food and water. The pigs grunted contently as they munched, while the cows lowed softly, their massive forms shifting slightly as they ate.
Alron had just finished tending to the animals when Freya burst into the barn, looking apologetic. Her hair was ruffled, and she was slightly out of breath, as if she had been running. "I'm sorry I'm late," she repeated, casting a look at Alron covered in animal feed. She looked Alron up and down, a small smile on her face as she observed the state he was in. She chuckled, clearly amused by the situation. "How did you even do that?" she asked, referring to the feed covering his clothes and hair. Alron looked down at himself, realizing just how messy he was. He brushed his hands over his clothes, trying to remove some of the feed, but it only seemed to stick more firmly to him. "Feeding the animals got a little... messy," he replied, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. Despite her playful tone, there was also a hint of detachment in Freya's voice as if she was going through the motions without really being engaged. "Never mind that," she asked dismissively. "What do I need to do?" Alron noticed the hint of detachment in Freya's tone and voice, realizing that she was probably still grappling with the reality of their situation. However, he simply pointed towards the remaining tasks in the barn, silently indicating what she needed to do. Freya let out a small sigh as she looked at the remaining tasks in the barn. Alron had already finished feeding the animals, so the only job left was milking the cows and cleaning the pens. "I suppose I have to milk the cows and clean the pens," she said, her voice a little weary. Freya crossed her arms and pouted as she looked at Alron, a light-hearted complaint on her lips. "You did all the fun tasks," she protested. "No fair." Alron chuckled at Freya's complaint, amused by her reaction. "Well, if you think milking cows and cleaning pens aren't 'fun' tasks, you're welcome to take over the flour mill and push it all day," he teased. Freya rolled her eyes at Alron's comment, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "No thank you," she replied dryly. "I'll stick to what I know, even if it's not as 'fun' as your exciting life of animal-feeding." Alron laughed at Freya's retort, enjoying the playful banter between them. "Suit yourself," he said, grinning. "But just know that milking cows and cleaning pens are the pinnacle of entertainment in my book."
Alron headed outside, leaving the barn and the animals behind. The fresh air felt good as he took a few deep breaths, enjoying the change of scenery. As he stood there, taking in the sights and sounds of the farm, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned his head to see Gunnar walking towards him with a smile on his face. Gunnar walked up to Alron, his smile widening as he clapped him on the shoulder. "Ready for the mill lad?" he asked, his tone hearty and cheerful. Alron nodded, mentally bracing himself for the task ahead. "Ready as I'll ever be," he replied, trying to match Gunnar's cheerful tone. Gunnar chuckled heartily, clearly amused by Alron's response. "That's the spirit!" he boomed, patting Alron on the back. "Let's get to the mill then." As Alron and Gunnar made their way towards the mill, their conversation shifted effortlessly from one topic to another. They discussed the weather, the animals, the crops, and some of the gossip that was going around in town.
Alron felt himself relaxing in the warm, easy company of Gunnar. Something about the elderly farmer's presence was comforting and reassuring, like an anchor in the unfamiliar waters of their current situation. Gunnar pointed towards the mill, explaining that Alron was to push it, while he would pour in the wheat. Alron nodded, a hint of determination in his eyes. "Just push the mill, got it," he said with a confident nod. Alron stepped up to the mill wheel, placing his hands on the rough wood. He took a deep breath, bracing himself, and then started to push. The wheel moved slowly at first, and then gained momentum as he continued to push. Alron grunted as he pushed, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. The wheel was much harder to push than he had anticipated, and every fiber of muscle in his body was engaged as he strained to move it. The effort was tiring, but Alron gritted his teeth and continued to push. The sound of the wheel grinding against the grain filled his ears, a steady and hypnotic rhythm that fueled his determination to keep going. As Alron continued to push the mill, the cold began to settle in, seeping into his bones and making him shiver. He could feel the chill in the air, especially as the sun began to sink lower in the sky. Despite the cold discomfort, Alron kept pushing, his body moving almost on autopilot. He was determined to finish the task at hand, no matter how chilly he was feeling.
Gunnar's voice called out from beside him, interrupting Alron's single-minded focus. "Alright, that's quite enough," the elderly farmer said firmly. Alron looked up, slightly surprised by Gunnar's words. He was so focused on pushing the wheel that he hadn't even noticed how long he'd been at it. He paused for a moment, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself. Gunnar approached Alron, a concerned look on his face. "You look half-frozen son," he said, eyeing Alron's shivering form. Alron's voice trailed off as he asked how long he had been at it. Gunnar replied, "You've been at it for around an hour and a half, lad." Gunnar chuckled, clearly impressed by Alron's dedication. "Trust me, I've never made a finer flour than today," he said, his tone filled with admiration. "You've worked hard today, and it shows in the quality of the flour." Alron managed a weary grin at the compliment, the physical exhaustion starting to catch up with him. He released his grip on the mill and took a few steps back, stretching his aching muscles. Gunnar glanced towards the barn, raising an eyebrow. "What's taking her so long," he said, referring to Freya. "She's been in that barn for quite a while now." Alron followed Gunnar's gaze to the barn, wondering what was taking Freya so long as well. He couldn't help but feel a pang of concern, wondering if everything was alright with her. Alron approached the barn and pushed open the door, stepping inside. The dim light filtered in from the doorway, casting shadows over the farm tools and equipment piled in the corners. And there, in one of those dark corners, was Freya, sitting on a pile of straw, her head buried in her hands. Alron's voice was gentle as he approached Freya, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he said softly, his tone concerned.
Freya looked up, her eyes puffy and red. It was clear that she had been crying. Alron tried to lighten the mood, chuckling as he spoke. "Alright, I'm definitely not leaving you alone from now on," he said, a small smile on his face. Freya looked up at him, her shoulders shaking slightly as a small chuckle escaped her lips. "I guess I need a babysitter now, huh?" Freya gave Alron a small smile, trying to reassure him that she was alright. "I'll be alright," she said, her tone firm. Despite her attempt at reassurance, Alron could see the sadness in her eyes, the weight of their situation still weighing heavily on her shoulders. Alron knelt down beside her, concern etched across his features. "Are you sure?" he asked gently, his voice low. "You look like you've been crying." Freya's words echoed in the quiet of the barn, her voice filled with a mix of sadness and resignation. "Of course I've been crying," she repeated, her voice catching in her throat. "I've lost everything except for you here." Freya's voice trembled as she spoke, her words tinged with emotion. "I just miss my aunt and uncle," she said, her eyes filling with tears once again. "I'll be alright," she repeated, trying to reassure both herself and Alron. He placed a comforting hand on Freya's shoulder, his voice gentle and soothing. "Alright alright... I won't press you further," he said. "Just know that I'm here for you." Despite his brave words, Alron couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for his own family, specifically his mother and Beor. He knew that Freya was hurting, and he wanted to be there to support her, but he also couldn't forget his own loved ones who he was separated from. Alron looked up at Freya, surprise and gratitude mixing in his expression. He had been so focused on supporting her that he hadn't realized that his own pain was evident.
"Al," Freya continued, her voice gentle. "I know you're hurting too. I'm here to talk. Alron was taken aback by her perceptiveness, but he also felt a wave of relief. He had been trying to put on a strong front for her, but the truth was he was struggling just as much. "Is it that obvious?" he asked a hint of sheepishness in his voice. He had been trying his best to hide his own pain, not wanting to burden Freya with his own emotions. Freya gave him a small smile, her eyes filled with a mixture of empathy and understanding. "You're not as good at hiding it as you think," she said gently. "I know you've been putting on a strong front for me, but I can tell."
Freya stood up, her demeanor composed but her eyes still showing traces of her earlier tears. She dusted off her skirt of any hay. "I'm going back to the temple now," she said quietly. "You can collect the payment from Gunnar, but I'm going to go and see if the priest might need some help." As Freya started to leave, Alron stood up and hugged her tightly. Despite their situation, it was a moment of comfort and connection between them. He could feel the tension and sadness in her body, and he knew that she was struggling just as much as he was. As Alron released his embrace, he could feel the tension and stiffness in Freya's body gradually relaxing. Her shoulders dropped a fraction, and her breath came more evenly. For a moment, it seemed like she was able to find a moment of peace in his arms.
Alron took a deep breath, steadying himself as he stepped outside the barn. He stretched his arms out, feeling the muscles in his back and shoulders loosen after being hunched over for so long.Outside, the setting sun painted the sky with streaks of orange and purple, casting long shadows across the farm. Alron could see Gunnar standing by the mill, waiting patiently. Freya waved goodbye to Alron as she headed towards the temple, her figure disappearing into the lengthening shadows cast by the buildings. Alron watched her go, a nagging concern creeping into his thoughts. He shook it off and turned his attention to Gunnar, who was waiting expectantly.
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