Cursed to Love: The Golden Curse

Chapter 8: Gilda In The House Of The Three…

‘The Demon King began his rule with thousands of dead men at his feet, corpses numbering almost more than his subjects.’ – Legend of Gyllene

Gilda woke up much later in the day with a terrible headache. She’d been having one of her repetitive dreams. She’d been very comforted by it, until she realized that she was not at home. It was just a little past sundown. The sky was glowing red, but the sun was beneath the horizon. She had slept the entire day…yet somehow she was still exhausted. Then she remembered that she was being held prisoner by some sort of beasts…unless she had simply lost her mind. Then she was just asleep in the woodcutter’s cottage. Neither of the two options were particularly appealing. She sat up painfully. Her feet had somehow been cleaned and bandaged while she slept. They smelled strongly of some sort of salve. The smell was astringent and overpowering.

Gilda looked around the room slowly, she noticed a water glass on the table and drank it gratefully. As she set the water glass down she saw that Mr. Vanhelstad – human Mr. Vanhelstad – was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room across from the bed. His long legs were crossed at the ankle, his hands on the arms of the chair, he looked calm and relaxed. His dark brown hair was the same color as the bear she had seen. His deep, dark brown eyes were the same eyes…but he was human. So she was just crazy. She had imagined it all. She was not sure whether or not that was a relief.

“I see you’re awake. How did you sleep?” He asked calmly. Gilda swallowed.

“Fine.” She looked down at her lap, her fingers twisted together.

“Are you alright? You seem afraid.” He asked, voice quiet, his body still immobile in the chair. He was so still that she wondered if he was even breathing.

“I’m trying to decide if any of this is actually happening. I am afraid that I might have gone a bit mad.” Gilda said, embarrassed. She didn’t want to say that she had been hallucinating. He smiled.

“You think you are imagining me?” He asked bending his long legs underneath him and standing up. He took a step forward. “Here.” He held out his hand. She shrunk back a bit. The corners of his lips turned up slightly. “Go on then. Take it.” She flinched backward further as he approached the bed. “It’s alright. I’m really here.” He said in his very calm, even voice. She reached out gingerly and grasped his hand. It was rough, not like a paw, but like the hand of a man who chopped wood all day. He had a very firm, long fingered, masculine hand, it felt utterly and completely human.

“You’re a man. I mean, an ordinary man.” She said embarrassed with too much surprise in her voice. He laughed out loud.

“What did you expect?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. Gilda looked out the window. She was losing her mind, and being patronized by a handsome yet infuriating man only made it worse.

“I don’t know. I think…I think I hit my head pretty badly.” She said, embarrassed. He laughed again, it was the same strangely familiar laugh. She felt like she should know why it disturbed her, but she couldn’t remember. The knowledge danced just out of reach of her addled brain.

“Freya asked me to call for her when you awoke. I thought since you knew me, my presence might be less startling at first. You were very distressed earlier.” He said sitting on the edge of the bed. Gilda realized that she was still holding his hand, tracing the callouses in his palm. She released it abruptly.

“You can call for her.” She said without looking at his eyes. They were too dark and looked too much like the creature that she had imagined. “I won’t be afraid.” She said. Well, provided that his sister was also human…but she didn’t want to specify that out loud. He stood up.

“You will not be afraid and fall out of bed again?” He asked touching the painful knot on the top of her head. His touch was cautious and gentle. “You did rap yourself on the head exceedingly hard earlier.” He said.

“It’s okay. I don’t use it much.” She said quietly. She had to ask. “She will be a person, won’t she?” She asked feeling so embarrassed that hot tears stung the corners of her eyes. He laughed again, his head thrown back.

“She is my sister, so I rarely think of her as a person…but yes.” He poked his head out of the door and spoke quietly, still in the same even tone of voice…rather too quietly to be heard across the house. “She’s awake Freya.” Gilda heard feet coming up the stairs, despite the fact that she could not have heard him. A young woman with reddish brown hair in two braids down to her waist came into the room. She had big hazel eyes and a gentle looking face.

“Gilda! So glad to see that you are awake. How are you feeling?” She asked in a kind voice. Gilda was so confused. What had she seen earlier that day? The voice was the same, but clearly this girl was not a bear, though the color of the hair, matched the animal she had seen. And why were they being so kind and so careful of her? She was an intruder, one who had eaten their food and collapsed muddy and bleeding into their bed. Then she had hallucinated, screamed as though they were horrible monsters, fell out of their bed and bled even more on their floor.

“I’m alright. Everything hurts…” She said more honestly. Freya nodded.

“I assumed that might be the case. I’ve been bringing in buckets of well water for a bath all afternoon. It is important to soak the dirt out of all of those scratches. You’ll feel better once the salt and dirt from running all night is out of them. I’d like to properly clean and bandage your feet too.” Freya said sitting beside Gilda’s bed in the chair. Freyr was leaning on the door frame, looking disinterested.

“Why would you go to all that trouble?” Gilda asked in a hoarse quiet voice. “You don’t know me…and I broke into your house.” Gilda had tears threatening in the corners of her eyes again.

“Oh…Gilda…From what we have been able to piece together, it doesn’t seem as though you had much choice. And we want very much for you to like us. Hopefully a little hot water will help with that.” She said with a kind smile. Gilda nodded. Tears were falling now. Ridiculous. Apparently she would not cry from pain, but she would from sheer awkwardness.

Freyr made a tisk noise. “Freya. You made her cry. I told you that you and Frederick should stay away until she was less disoriented.” He said kicking off on the door frame with his foot languidly and standing up. Gilda shook her head.

“No no. It’s just that you are being so kind…I feel guilty for breaking your furniture and getting blood on everything.” She said avoiding eye contact with both of them. Freya gave a ringing laugh.

“You’re half dead, in a house full of strangers, hungry and tired…and you are crying because you broke a foot stool? Oh Gilda.” She smiled and shook her head. “I thought Freyr was making things up.” She laughed. “Now. No more silliness. We’ve got to get you downstairs and into the bath before it gets cold…after all that effort, it would be a waste. Will you permit Freyr to carry you? I will send him and Frederick out, and I will help you with the rest.” Freya asked. Freyr leaned on his sister’s chair, he spoke almost silently as though she had a headache or something.

“She might prefer someone she knows to assist her with her injuries.” There was no hint or suggestion of impropriety in his voice. Freya twisted her neck to look up at him. Her eyes both surprised and critical.

“Freyr.” She said in a tone that implied he was very stupid. “She is a girl.” He raised an eyebrow.

“I am peripherally aware of that.” He said in that low, even, emotionless voice.

“I mean… That as a girl, she might prefer a female to help her undress and clean the scratches on her person, as well as that contusion on the upper portion of her leg. You might be…an inappropriate choice.” She said with a smile. Freyr rolled his eyes, and shook his head.

“Ahh. I see.” He moved towards Gilda. “If you will permit me?” He asked holding his arms out as though to grasp her. She nodded.

“Um, yes of course.” She was surprisingly wounded by the fact that he didn’t even seem to see her as a girl, so much so that he thought it wouldn’t be slightest bit improper if he were to undress her or put salve on her naked thigh.

He lifted her up as though she were nothing more than a dried leaf. Gilda wished he was less attractive, and his chest less warm, and inviting to lay her head on. It really wouldn’t be prudent to develop an attachment to someone who didn’t realize you were a woman, and might actually be a bear. Freyr’s postured stiffened. He craned his neck as though trying to get his face as far away from her as possible.

“Freya, I can’t. It’s too close to sundown…it’s the smell, she…” His voice trailed off. Freya leaned in and sniffed Gilda’s skin, close to her face.

“Ahh… That would be distracting.” She said with a laugh. Freyr’s face contorted in disgust and discomfort. “It’s not as if you have any choice. I can’t carry her and she certainly can’t walk.” Freya was still laughing.

“It’s not the slightest bit amusing.” Freyr said carrying a very self-conscious Gilda down the stairs.

“I’m sorry…I walked all day through the woods...the Squire’s son wouldn’t give me a carriage…then I ran all night…” Gilda mumbled, in more pain from the notion that Freyr found her smell abhorrent and less from her shredded feet. “After such exertion…I suppose I must.” Gilda couldn’t finish the sentence. It was too mortifying. Freya shook her head at Gilda as Freyr deposited her in the chair by the large metal bathing tub and raced out the door, towing a very curious looking Frederick behind him. They moved with speed that looked just this side of unnatural.

“Gilda! It’s not that! You do smell as though you were sweating a bit…but that’s not why he reacted that way.” Freya said with a wry shake of her head as she began undoing the buttons on the back of Gilda’s dress. “Oh, and do be careful when you step in, there’s quite a few hot stones near the end. Much easier to heat those and drop them in than to heat all the water on the stove!” Freya said trying to change the subject, but not successfully.

“I don’t understand…” Gilda was suddenly horrified by the notion that maybe she hadn’t hallucinated the bears…maybe they were animals sometimes and human other times… She couldn’t stop her stupid over-tired brain from forming the thoughts or her mouth from forming the words. “Do you mean that he…wants to eat me?” She asked with wide eyes. “Do I smell like food?” She asked, mortified to even be voicing such nonsense aloud. Freya helped her step into the bath with a deep sigh.

“So you do remember.” She said in a matter of fact tone, as though being bears occasionally was of little consequence. Gilda nodded. It was very possible that at this moment she was being boiled…rather than bathed. “You were animals…you were bears.” She said biting her lip. All of all the foolish, silly, stupid things she had said…this had to be the most ridiculous.

“Yes.” Freya said handing her a bar of rose scented soap. “Yes. Sometimes we are.” She said as she scrubbed Gilda’s hair for her, pulling out sticks, leaves and other things that had gotten in there during her run. Gilda stiffened under her fingertips. She was having her hair washed by a woman who had just admitted that she was occasionally a large, toothy, bloodthirsty animal.

“Don’t be afraid Gilda. We mean you absolutely no harm.” Freya said bending down to look her squarely in the eyes. “You are safe here.” She said firmly.

“But if you are sometimes bears…you might…I mean…bears eat animals…you might accidentally…” Gilda looked at her toes…which at the moment resembled little packages. Freya was unwrapping the bandages and washing off the strange smelling liniment. It hurt fiercely, but Gilda’s mind was more concerned with other things.

“No Gilda. We are always people. Sometimes we have the form of bears…but our soul, our essence…our sense of self is always human. We simply choose to ignore the impulses that the animal suggests. Even in animal form we prefer to behave as humans. It is possible for us to eat like a bear…berries, fish, small game. But it is not appetizing, it’s actually very unpleasant. I think if I were to eat you, it might be more unpleasant for me than for you.” Freya with a rueful laugh. Gilda failed to see how being eaten alive by a bear could be worse for the bear…but the kindness in Freya’s voice and her gentleness…were hard to discredit entirely.

“So I haven’t lost my mind. I did see it? I mean, I saw you, and your brothers, as…” Gilda trailed off.

“Yes. But I’m afraid that it’s a story best told by all of us. Can you wait until after dinner?” Freya asked. Gilda didn’t want to, but she wasn’t exactly in a position to make demands. Freya got a towel off the top of the wood burning stove. “Here you go dear.” She said kindly. Gilda took very warm towel and wrapped it around herself as she stepped out back into the chair. Freya put her feet up on one of the surviving foot stools.

“Don’t move. I’ll re-bandage those, and your leg, and then we can get you dressed.” Freya said as she reached for a glass of almost clear liquid.

“Here. Drink half of this.” She said putting the glass in Gilda’s hand. Gilda smelled it. It smelled like the bottle of strong spirits Gran kept behind the dish cabinet…the one she didn’t think Gilda knew about. Gilda wrinkled her nose.

“Why? Why must I drink that?” She asked. Freya bit her lip.

“Because dear, I’m going to clean your wounded feet with the other half of the glass and it would cause you less pain if you were...somewhat lubricated first.” She said pushing the glass toward Gilda’s lips. “I don’t have any laudanum. Just this.” Gilda took a very large gulp. Then choked. Then coughed. Then was pretty sure that her lungs were on fire, maybe she had inhaled some?

“Ack! It burns!” She said coughing and spluttering. Freya looked at the glass which was still quite a bit more than half full.

“I take it you don’t often enjoy strong drink?” She said with a smile. Gilda shook her head. It was obvious to Gilda that Freya had not known that most women didn’t drink distilled spirits often. Her tone implied that she was quite used to drinking them.

“Never.” Gilda admitted. Unless one counted the punch from the faire…the faire that had only been days ago but now seemed like a lifetime ago. Freya smiled.

“It’s distilled from cherries, from the tree in our clearing. Taste it again…see if you can find the flavor.” Freya said handing her the glass. Gilda shook her head. Mixing alcohol and a head injury seemed like a poor choice.

“I don’t think I should…not when my head is already so…” She put her hand up to it. Freya shrugged.

“Alright, do you prefer a hard slap in the face as a distraction, or something to bite down on?” She asked alarmingly. Gilda shook her head with her eyes wide.

“Neither.” She said. Freya nodded.

“As you wish.” She said lifting Gilda’s first foot over the bath, checking it with her finger tips for debris, which was horribly painful, and then poured the alcohol down it. Gilda tried to bite her tongue but she couldn’t. She screamed. It hurt more than anything had ever hurt. Freya set that foot down on a clean towel and grasped the other one.

“No. Please don’t.” Gilda pleaded clutching the chair with her arms. Freya sighed. When she spoke it was in the sort of gentle tone one uses to address a very small child.

“Do you like your feet Gilda? Walking suits you?” Freya asked. Gilda nodded.

“Then let’s not lose them to infection.” She said pouring the last of the glass over and through the cuts on the second foot. Gilda screamed again as though Freya was eating her alive. Her blood was curdling and she was the one screaming.

“What has happened?” Freyr said bursting in the door. Freya looked up.

“I was cleaning the wounds on her feet.” She said simply. Freyr sighed.

“Sounded like she was being murdered.” He said quietly and then shut the door behind him as he once again stepped out. He failed to acknowledge that Gilda was practically naked, with her legs bare up to the thigh, feet up over the side of a bath tub. Freya sighed.

“He thinks a bit too much of you I think.” She said inexplicably as she dried and bandaged what now felt like raw lumps of meat no longer attached to Gilda’s body. Gilda felt numb, like her legs were somewhere else and she was just watching what was happening to them. Freya put the salve and a bandage on Gilda’s leg. Then she stood up, crossed over to the table in the corner of the room and retrieved a pale pink cotton dress. “This should fit you I think, and it’s much cleaner and more appropriate than what you were wearing.” She said as she folded up the nearly destroyed green/gold gown. Gilda slipped the new dress over her head and began doing up the buttons.

“Are you sure you can spare the dress?” Gilda asked. She only had one everyday dress…did Freya really have enough dresses to lend her this one? They didn’t look particularly wealthy.

“It’s yours as long as you are here. Probably even after, as I can’t send you home naked, and this one is ruined.” She said putting the shredded gown in a basket by what appeared to be a sewing table. The thought of going home was like a knife in Gilda’s heart. It would probably never be safe to go home again.

“Don’t you like it? Are you sure you want to part with such a nice dress?” Gilda asked running her hands down the soft muslin dress. The dress was the color of an apple blossom, somehow pink and white at the same time. Freya shrugged and shook her head.

“It looks very well on you. Much better than it ever did on me. With my hair it was a bit too pink. Freyr got it for me in town and he doesn’t do very well shopping for a woman.” She said touching her reddish braids.

“Why does only Freyr go into town?” Gilda asked as she stood precariously on the edges of her feet, so that Freya could tighten the laces at the back of the dress. She left it looser than Gilda would have, but she supposed that a tight corset was not strictly necessary at the moment.

“Because Frederick got into quite a bit of trouble the last time he was allowed to go…and because I find it too painful. I stopped going quite a few years ago.” She said helping Gilda into an upholstered chair by the fire and putting her feet up. She grasped a brush and began attempting to disentangle Gilda’s hair.

“May I ask why it is painful?” Gilda asked with some degree of curiosity, wincing as the brush found an abundance of snarls in her curly hair. Freya shook her head.

“Not now.” She cleared her throat after a moment of silence. “Maybe later.” She finished combing through Gilda’s hair and set down the brush. “Right now it’s time to invite the boys back in and to have some dinner. Don’t you think?” She asked Gilda. Gilda realized that she was outrageously hungry, it was as if her insides were attempting to eat themselves.

 “I am very hungry.” She admitted looking down. Ordinarily she felt superior to most of those around her, and not just because she was better educated. Now she felt little, unimportant, and ordinary. The nicer they were to her, the more wretched she felt.

Freya checked a pot on the stove and then went to the door. She spoke barely above a whisper, in the strange calm, kind voice she had, that they all seemed to have.

“Gentlemen – the lady is dressed and dinner is ready.” Freya turned back from the door and returned to the stove as Freyr and Frederick came back in. Frederick was blonde, like the bear had been. As a young man he had light hair, blue eyes and a freckled nose. He was probably 18 or 19. He smiled broadly at her when he caught her looking at him, he clearly found himself very handsome. Freyr glanced at her and nodded briskly. His long dark brown hair hung around his face like a curtain and it made it hard to tell what he was thinking. Not that he seemed to wear his thoughts on his face.

“Freyr will you carry Gilda to the table? Her feet began bleeding again just from the walk to the chair.” Freya asked with a sympathetic look at Gilda.

“It’ll be worse now that she is clean.” He said without it explaining. If not because she smelled bad, and not because she smelled like food, what was it that he found so off putting?

“I’ll do it!” Frederick said springing towards her on his long coltish legs. Impossibly fast Freyr had reached his brother, and pinned him against the wall with one hand. He made a quiet sound…almost like a growl. Not the way that humans sometimes growl…but like the sound that an animal would make.

“No you won’t.” He said firmly, and calmly, as though he hadn’t just shoved his brother violently against a wall and snarled at him. The paintings on the wall were still swinging from the force. Frederick just laughed. He didn’t seem injured or surprised or bothered by his brother’s behavior.

“It’s not sundown anymore…I’m pretty sure I could handle it.” He said laughing, but he went and seated himself at the table.

“Like you handled it in town that time.” Freyr said with a scornful tone as he picked up the very embarrassed Gilda, who tried not to look at him or touch him anymore than was strictly necessary, and carried her to the table. He set her into a chair at the end, where it would be easier with her injured feet. It left her feeling very much exposed, flanked on either side by these strange bear people. People, who even when human, growled and shoved each other like animals…and apparently had a strange adverse reaction to her – while clean or dirty.

“Well, here you are Gilda. I hope you like soup, and bread.” Freya said setting a bowl of what looked like beef and barley soup in front of her with a wedge of cheese and thick slice of sourdough bread. Usually Gilda was forced to eat a rabbit or squirrel infused version of the soup, but this looked more palatable.

“Thank you Miss, Vanhelstad.” Gilda said trying to decide how formally to address her captorsescuers. Frederick laughed, spilling soup out of his spoon and onto the table.

“She’s just Freya. You don’t need to stand on ceremony. We all know who you are.” He said. Gilda looked at her plate. Was he going to elaborate on how he knew her? She certainly didn’t know them, and they hadn’t even told her why they were only partially human yet. Gilda tried to slow her breathing and the rapid thumping of her heart beat. She felt so confused and overwhelmed and frightened that she didn’t even know what to do. She tried concentrating jus on spooning the blessedly squirrel free soup into her mouth, but her mind kept racing away.

“Are you alright Gilda? You seem distressed.” Freya asked when Gilda dropped her soup spoon for the 3rd time. “Do you not like the soup?” She asked. Gilda shook head. Her problems were not soup related.

“No. No, the soup is lovely. It’s just that you are all being so kind and familiar, and I don’t understand what is going on. What I mean to say is that it is disconcerting that you all know me, but I don’t know you. Why haven’t you thrown me out? I’m an intruder and I’ve been accused of serious crimes.” She asked mumbling, an act she knew was rude. Freya smiled for what must have been the hundredth time.

“We will continue to be kind to you, and we will not harm you. We just need to make sure that you can be trusted, before we explain everything. Given your recent experience, I’m sure you can understand our fear of being found out?” Freya asked.

“Who would I even tell? Everyone I know wants to kill me, and if I return to Gran, she will be in danger. Who do you think I could possibly speak to?” Gilda asked, feeling rather savage at the moment. Freyr made a rumbling noise.

“You’re a talkative creature normally. I’m sure you could find someone.” He said without emotion. Gilda’s chest felt hot, and her face flushed, she kept it tucked toward her plate.

“Freyr! The girl was nearly killed last night by those people. You don’t need to be so cruel.” Frederick scolded his brother, he gave Gilda a sympathetic look and reaching to take her hand. Freya took it before he could grasp it.

“The townspeople became suspicious of you because you are different than they are. You don’t look like the rest of them, and you don’t behave like they do…so they branded you a witch and almost killed you. If they almost killed you for being pretty, what do you think they would do to people like us?” Freya asked gently. “We’ve been afraid for our safety, much longer than you have…and it is hard for us to trust new people. I’m sorry if we are behaving strangely. It isn’t our intention.” Freya said handing her another slice of bread. Gilda looked up at her.

“Please tell me how you came to be this way. Not knowing is very difficult for me. I will be less frightened if you just tell me and I am not left to imagine all sorts of possibilities.” Gilda pleaded. She made her tear filled eyes as big and innocent as possible. Freyr shook his head.

“Don’t try that on us. It won’t work.” He said evenly. “One of the benefits to not wanting bed you, it that your little trick with the eyes doesn’t effect us.” Frederick smiled broadly at her.

“Speak for yourself Freyr. I’ll tell her what she wants to know.” His eyes sought out hers with a smirk. Freyr attempted to kick his brother under the table. Had he been normal sized he might have been successful, but his extra-long legs caused the entire table to jolt and upset everyone’s soup. Frederick laughed. Freya shook her head and sighed.

“It’s alright Freyr. We can tell her. She won’t be leaving here anytime soon, and when she does, she will be sympathetic to our situation.” Freya said and stood up from the table. “This is a long story, better told in the living room, and with something to drink.” Freya said in a dark sounding voice. She pulled a wine bottle out of the cupboard and uncorked it with her teeth. “Well? Carry her to sofa.” Freya said and walking into the living room without a backward glance toward her surprised brothers. They looked at each other apprehensively, momentarily surprised. They hadn’t expected her to agree. This was a secret that they had kept for a very long time.

__________________________________________________________________

Lord Andrew sat down to his writing desk with a rather self-important smile on his face. His brother’s attempt to capture the witch who had ensnared their father had been unsuccessful. Now his brother had imprisoned their father on grounds of insanity. He didn’t mind that particularly, but it was rather awkward business. It was also indicative of the fact that his brother was becoming entirely too narcissistic. Phillip seemed to think that he was the only person in the family who could get things done. That was categorically untrue.  Phillip picked up his pen and dipped the end of the quill into the ink. Something had to be done about all of this witchcraft business. With his father locked away and his brother’s efforts so lacking…it seemed to have fallen to him to do it.

Proper authorities should be contacted. There were people out there who specialized in these sorts of unspeakable things. He looked at his letter. He did not have the right to contact the council on his own. A smile played at the corners of his lips as he signed his brother’s name. Phillip didn’t take him seriously…but he would have to now. After all, he was the only one brave enough to summon the council.