Harriet gave a small nod at Sigvald’s somber sounding words, understanding them. If she didn’t work as hard as she did then her family would have fallen apart years ago. She may not leave a large mark on the world but she knew that what she did affected those around her and closest to her greatly. And they may not say it but she knew that her siblings and father did appreciate all she did.
“Folks love t’ listen t’ stories, whatever age they be, I know I still do,” she said with a smile up at him as they walked. Her grey eyes danced over his face for a few seconds, wondering why he had never had children. Maybe it was simply because he had never married, or maybe he had had a wife who could not bare children. From the way he spoke it didn’t sound as though he was married, but that didn’t mean he had never been. That thought was heartbreaking. Harriet didn’t know if she would marry, she had to look after her family before thinking of starting her own, but the idea of not being able to give her husband a child, or several seemed so sad. She knew that such a question would be quite private though and so stopped herself from asking, knowing that he might take offense.
Trying to find a more positive topic of conversation than the one her mind was taking her down Harriet cast her gaze around and it fell on a sheet of paper nailed to a building wall. She couldn’t read much of the writing, but she recognized the symbols and pictures drawn on it and some of the letters leapt out at her.
“Oh, the Tourney,” she said enthusiastically, reaching out and grabbing Sigvald’s hand without thinking and leading him towards the piece of paper. “It’s the Coming Crow Tourney,” she added in explanation to the man behind her, not sure if he would have heard of it or not, “It’s takin’ place near were farm, are y’ goin’? It’ll be fun,” she said quickly, bouncing a little on the tips of her toes as she lightly touched the writing on the scrap of paper, mouthing the words to herself as she tried to read it.
“J…ow…stiiing,” she murmured quietly to herself, before glancing up at her companion once again with a bright smile, “Are y’ good at joustin’? Or swordfightin’ or owt like that? There’s competitions an’ all sorts at the tournaments.” She loved it when there was an event like this in Oberon. She usually entered the cooking contest at her family’s urging and never cared when she didn’t place, there was far too much going on to care about that and she knew her cooking wasn’t that good. It fed people, it would never be served at a banquet. But the thing she loved most was that she usually got a few hours free to wander around the competition alone without a trail of children behind her. The others would run a stall of the little wooden animals she made and Harriet would be free to do whatever she wished.