By the Banks of the Tisa

[wheatencrown]

The river is quiet as is the land around them, hidden under the quiet of Winter as Demeter brings Attila through holding a picnic basket,

"Welcome home."

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[453-died-angry.livejournal.com]

His hand was trembling on her arm because, while he had utter faith in her good will, he was afraid of what he might see, of how his land might have changed or, maybe even worse, not be changed at all.

But as soon as he steps out onto that ground and feels the crunch of snow underfoot and the bite of the air in his nose, the trembling stops and he tilts back his head.

In one huff out goes all the restraint and frustrations and fears of the months since his death. In, on one long, long breath, he takes crisp frosty air, the scent of iced-over water, wood and grass buried deep - and the sweet scent of spring in waiting.

Demeter's own scent, sweeter by far, is there too - not obscuring but augmenting the others.

He sighs out that breath, eyes screwed shut because big Huns don't cry, and lingers over taking another.

This time has he lets it out he sighs, "Home," then, "thank you, blessed lady."

[wheatencrown]

"This land remembers you since you defended it and loved it."

She smiles and watches him, gently squeezing his arm with her other hand.

[453-died-angry.livejournal.com]

"I didn't spend enough time in it," he says, shamefaced. "The habit of conquest is a hard one to break - especially with twenty thousand men on little horses demanding to know where they can loot next. 'I just want to go home to my wife' isn't the sort of answer they want to hear."

He settles his cloak more closely around his shoulders, glad of its warmth and of that of the bunny hide boot liners and leggings he is wearing, and looks around the familiar scene.

"Where shall we go now, lady?" he asks.

[wheatencrown]

"We are here for you, so tell me of the land as you remember it as we follow the river. There's a village not too far away where we can have lunch."

Demeter's black shawl is simply around her and her feet are bare because she needs to feel the land under her feet.

[453-died-angry.livejournal.com]

Attila grunts and automatically turns downstream.

"I hope I'm going the right way," he says. "Some of my followers made a settlement downstream back in my time. Just beyond those bluffs. I liked my privacy so we lived up here - wouldn't settle down stream of a village, too much piss going in the water."

[wheatencrown]

As they head down the river, a few plumes of smoke can be seen,

"Its a good spot, I don't see why they would have moved."

[453-died-angry.livejournal.com]

He wonders at her - barefoot in the snow and apparently quite happy. His own feet are warm enough, padded as they are by rabbit wool, but the cold air is nipping his nose and fingers and he rubs them carefully to keep the circulation going.

Sure enough, as they round the bluffs he sees the familiar if haphazard layout of a Hun village and hears the bark of dogs but no voices as yet, and he frowns wondering what the people are doing to allow strangers so close unchallenged.

"This is familiar - and yet not," he says, putting a protective arm around her and loosening his sword in its sheath.

[wheatencrown]

"No need to draw your sword, the world has changed my friend."

Its a small historical settlement, reconstructed not far from a village so that the future and the past are side by side.

A boy runs past bundled up and his mother yells out,

"Attila, come back here and finish your chores!"

[453-died-angry.livejournal.com]

He stares after the child then chuckles. "Deja vu," he says. "I always ran before they were finished too. Odd that the name has endured."

He still has his arm across her back. Not a possessive gesture, unless he is claiming the right to be her guardian if they are threatened.

A little thought might suggest to him that a goddess needs no protection, but she is also a woman, and with him, and that he is responsible for her safety is as true and right and inevitable to him as the sun in the sky or the air in his lungs.

The woman who shouted at the boy is looking at them, shading her eyes against the light, and he nods to her gravely.

[wheatencrown]

"Not odd at all, they honor you even now here."

She leans into his arm, glad of the warmth and seeing how happy he is. Demeter smiles and waves at the woman before speaking in Magyar,

"My friend knew this place many years ago, can you tell a warm place to sit?"

[453-died-angry.livejournal.com]

The woman smile at them and points. "The second house along," she replies. "You will be welcomed."

The language hovers on the borders of familiarity and Attila smiles thanks at her before following the direction of her gesture. She gives them the kind of measuring look that is probably gauging the amount of effort and research they put into their costumes then continues to demand that the boy get back to work.

Attila smiles and walks on across the increasingly mucky snow. "This seems right," he said. "We used to lay down rushes and ashes to try and keep the mud down in our villages. In winter though, it used to get knee deep. Shall I carry you? Muddy feet are undignified."

[wheatencrown]

Now Demeter's laugh fills the air with Summer and huskiness,

"I have never been terribly dignified, Attila, anyway I like the feel of the land under my feet."

She follows along looking at the houses and giving smiles that make men and women turn, she may hide her divinity but she's still a striking woman.

[453-died-angry.livejournal.com]

Some of the men also turn their attention to Attila - probably wondering if he was her Dad. He smiles back at them, seeing from their body language that none of them are going to challenge him.

On one level it makes him sad for his country men - that they'll allow a stranger to walk into their village with SUCH a woman in the circle of his arm and not at least test him - on another it's as expected - it had been a long time since any of his young men had been so full of themselves to risk the thumping they'd get for cheek.

Some of the women are worth looking at and meet his eyes boldly and unafraid - then look away hastily. The ones that blush would be worth following up under other circumstances but right now he's concerned to get his lady into the warm.

His feet are cold too.

[wheatencrown]

Attila doesn't realize just how intimidating he is and Demeter's smiles warm them all as she looks their way for a moment.

In a moment they reach the small inn where the smell of roasting meat and beer float from and Demeter walks through the door and speaks again in Magyar,

"Blessings upon you today, we would both like some lunch."

The innkeeper is quick to find them a table near the fire and fetch warm drinks for them both. A few people from outside have chosen this time to eat too since they're curious yet still slightly cautious.

[453-died-angry.livejournal.com]

When the man brings the drinks Attila thanks him and he bobs his head, brow creasing as he almost but not quite understanding. It is, Attila thinks, as much tone and emphasis as the change in the words and he listens closely to other conversations, trying to learn the trick of it.

But he can still smile to his companion, hitch his sword into a more comfortable position and say, "Forgive my curiosity but what is in the basket you carry so carefully?"

[wheatencrown]

That brings a laugh from Demeter as she uncovers it to show him a few small saplings,

"I thought perhaps after lunch, we might plant a small oak. This is land that is cared for and loved after all."

[453-died-angry.livejournal.com]

Attila leans to look in the basket, which puts his shoulder against hers, his dark hair swinging to tickle her cheek.

"They look strong," he says with a smile. "I heard a rhyme once - a pine for me, an ash for my son, an oak for folk in years to come."

[wheatencrown]

"They are strong and I will make sure they grow tall and proud for many years."

She leans back against him, kissing his hair gently,

"After lunch, we shall walk and you will decide where to plant them."

[453-died-angry.livejournal.com]

Attila nods. "I have never planted a tree," he admits, "but I know how it is done. Perhaps the host here can tell us where to obtain some thorn branches to protect the saplings until they are grown enough to be safe from the stock. Sheep," he said darkly, "will nibble anything and even they aren't as bad as goats!"

[wheatencrown]

"Its a simple but powerful act as is tending and growing anything."

Demeter grins at him, she has other ways of keeping plants off of her plants.

[453-died-angry.livejournal.com]

Attila smiles wryly. "I never really got the hang of farming," he said. "Was bred to fight, see. But I could see how essential it was. It's what I should have been doing - making it safe for the people to till their fields and bring in their crops. I don't know how it got so - out of control. Too late now but," he looked from her to the basket, "at least I can help give them a good start."

[wheatencrown]

"You made it possible for others to tend without worry and that is a great thing so I will not have you speaking down on yourself."

[453-died-angry.livejournal.com]

Attila shakes his head. "I ruined more crops than I ever protected," he admitted. "But that was then and this is now. It's heartwarming that here, where I was a protector, I am still remembered. As are you - every time a man puts his hands in the soil with good intent, it is in some sort, a prayer to you."

[wheatencrown]

"By your hand others could grow crops, hold onto that."

[453-died-angry.livejournal.com]

Attila smile and touches her hand, seeming small against his massive scarred paw. "Thank you, lady," he breathes then looks up as the host approaches with a tray.

The man nods warily and respectfuly then sets out the dishes which Attila inspects with approval.