Triss & Sigurd Start Their Year Together Part 1

Triss breathlessly and fleetly followed her newly declared husband through the forest as dark green and black hues swept by them as they ran, as their hearts bubbled laughter, his hand sure and warmly enveloping over her small one. She watched as his golden streams billowed as he charged into the darkness. She just followed the wonderful sound of his laugh. Sigurd was a sage and quiet person, mostly talking with his eyes or summing up his speech concisely, but he let her see and hear into his world. Now that they were legally man and wife she wondered what made him laugh, what did how think about deeply? What did he like to learn about? His laugh, deep and richly unbridled had power. The power to make her smile. He whooped and grabbed her round her waist, lightly tossing her and catching her, making her shrill in surprise setting her firmly in front of himself. Chest heaving beneath his bridegroom shirt, not unlike a stallion who had been galloping, Sigurd leaned his forehead down tenderly to touch hers. “Nia. Inhale. Nia. Inhale. She lifted her face to touch her forehead to his. His eyes were open. He was smiling…yet, there were tears brimming in his eyes. What was wrong? She looked up at him her big green eyes shaded with questioned concern. Sigurd looked at her. “You are beautiful.” She cried herself, relieved. “Sigurd, you are stunning. She placed her hand on his calming tunic atop his chest. I am safe in your heart as home. We are a gift to one another. I pray and hope I can meet your hopes expectations.”

“We can both pray and work through what we expect and what more importantly God whom now you and I both call Father, expects. He is who brought us together.” Sigurd nibbled her ear and kissed her cheek. “We have much of the night to talk as we go to the place I have chosen for us to spend some time together.” His grin a mixture mischievousness and self-assuredness.

Tilting her head to the side, she eyed him. Smiling. One brow raised, “Well, I certainly look forward to seeing this place you have picked for us.”

Sigurd, still grinning, gasped her hand in his, tugging her gently to his side. They had the whole night to speak as they ascended to his mountain refuge. He picked off the tree the blanketing and material for their tent once they reached the place he had scouted to bring his bride, deep into God’s creation as waning moon and ever present stars sang a lighted pathway to their feet to the heights.

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