New World Sasanaichs

Seven

August, 1744

A full Year after arriving in the New World, the homestead inhabited by a combination of Morgans, Frasers, Murrays, and MacKenzies’d adjusted to their new Life quite well. They all finally had actual cabins, not just lil shacks and lean-tos for shelter when the Weather turned nasty, whether one was talking about a Thunderstorm or Winter Storm. Each of those cabins also had their own privies, smoke- and springhouses, and root cellars within a short distanceta help cut down on attacks by predators when walking to and from them.

        When they weren’t helping each other with the building of those all-important structures or making trips into Woolam’s Creek–not to mention another Town by the name of Salisbury–the humans gathered around for a bit of a show, the grown Elves taking turns at being an opponent. Jamie’d pretty much mastered what they referred to as parlor spells, which was the most rudimentary magick pretty much anyone ranging from a mere Witch to a Deity could wield. That’d made Tiernan decide that his training in Elvin combat tactics needed to Begin, whether he ever fought in any War and had reason to use it or not. But that’d posed a bit of a problem at first that he’d quickly been disillusioned of, the pain that’d been inflicted upon his person more than a lil enraging.

        He’d been a lil dubious about sparring with Saoirse and Róisín at first, ’cuz he’d been raised in a culture where lasses generally didn’t wield weapons like swords and dirks. But even if a lass did ever have reason to wield such an item, lads were generally raised to not do anything to threaten a lass, if those who’d raised them were even halfway decent. It’d made him try to walk away from more sparring matches than not at first, but nearly having an arm hacked off at one point’d quickly Changed his mind.

        “Jesus, ye damn weel dinna go easy on a lad, do ye?” the ginger lad laughed breathlessly, easily blocking a blow from a sword blade.

        “Elves consider the genders equal in every way aside from conception,” his current sparring partner–the daughter of the aforementioned pair–retorted, her laugh not sounding breathless in the least.

        “Oh, aye?” Jamie cocked a brow as they parried back and forth, the swordplay almost like a danceta those who watched.

        “Even Elves need a male and female to conceive a child,” the Healer chuckled, blocking a blow from him this Time. “But once a child’s born, we consider the genders equal–both parents pull their weight in rearing the child, whether ’tis by changing clouts or bringing home food for the entire family.”

        “Ye’ve heard the legends of the Shield Maidens from Ancient Viking tales, aye?” her mother queried as much to him as the other humans.

        A chorus of ayes answered her, his more of a grunt than an actual response as he blocked another blow.

        “Female Elves’re essentially the same thing as a Shield Maiden when it comesta warfare,” Saoirse explained. “I canna say whether they’re where Shield Maidens originated, or they adopted the mindset from them–I’m afraid I wasna in existence that far back into Antiquity.”

        “Either way, men and women rear children, hunt and gather food, and fight in battle equally,” her husband said, declaring his daughter the winner of this match when her opponent merely dropped his sword by way of admitting defeat. “We dinna consider one gender superior to the other–we work together to accomplish all tasks and challenges presented to us.”

        “Weel, I canna say that’s an entirely bad thing,” Jenny mused, rocking her infant daughter as she nursed under the blanket spread over her shoulder. “’Tisna really any different than men and women working the Fields of a place like Lallybroch together.”