Day 7 of the 7th week before midwinter
Dabbling in different tasks Novrus made a set of bone headed arrows. These he intended to use for practice. For these he used common grouse feathers. Five came out well enough for sale or hunting. The other five had bends or his knife left a nick in the shaft making it prone to breaking.
The south side of the house had no windows nor doors. Instead it had a few trees sheltering the tree trunk benches used to relax. Progressing south Novrus felled a few trees for the stockpiles. This gave him a decently long shooting length. A rise in the ground was the limit he could work with. It came to almost thirty five strides. Firing five of the less balanced arrows they skidded in the air. He only managed to recover two of the five. The next day he found another off to the other side. He decided to make blunt arrows for future practicing.
Restocking trimmed logs had also begun. What had been stocked had been used in making the smithy with its two walls and a roof design. The next house would be the largest yet. Pacing the perimeter then multiplying he figured on over a hundred trees for the outer walls. That would be a lot of work.
Originally Novrus had wanted to use that natural slope for an entrance ramp. That would have put the door on the east toward the rising sun. Now he desired the door should face toward the other buildings. This would be west. The three buildings would then have a common courtyard between them.
There was still pit traps to patrol and reset. As he had expected with the lakes frozen the animals weren’t running into them now. Skiing around the homestead was slowly improving his skills. He had adjusted the foot bindings today. That should help too.
The rain barrel on the sauna-smoker house was useful. Each day he chipped the new formed ice off to refill his water skin. Each time he lit a fire a little snow on the roof melted. More water came from the sun’s race hitting the roof snow to also melt and refill the barrel.
Novrus looked over his stockpile. There was still a stash of clay. He had medicines now plus flavorful leaves. Certainly a thing to make would be a small pot for boiling one dosage of leaves, a kettle. Almost all the rest could go into making a large clay container with handles, an amphora. This would be used for the storage of crops from his field. One could pour the seeds into the cellar but seeds on the walls tended to absorb condensation and start to grow.
With the amphora filling with barley flour Novrus gave his mother’s recipe a try. Setting a flat stone on the edge of the fireplace it would become very hot. You can roast meat on it or you could try baking. Mixing a dough of fresh ground barley flour with water he laid them out as rectangles on the heating stone. He put a scoop of berries on an unused part of the stone. Then he crushed them into paste. Using the flour rectangle he scooped the paste up and wrapped the flour to hold the berries. He pressed them back into rectangular shape then back onto the stone they went. Each turn over was then broken open, in this case cut, to let steam from the berries out. Putting the stone closer to the center of the fire he left them to bake.
They turned out wonderfully. By the time they were done they sloshing crushed berries had been rendered drier into a sticky paste. The flour had a hard crust over soft bread. Biting in there was a crunch to the crust, smooth soft bread then sticky berry jam inside. Delightful!
An anxiety to explore kept grabbing at him. Novrus spent one day skiing to the northwest. He still hadn’t seen game in the distance. Was his stead close to a migration path? Was it too out of the way because of the rivers? Was the forest withholding from him? He couldn’t be sure. His range of travel was limited by his skiing ability. Both he and skis had room for improvement. Novrus recalled the image of grandfather in his old age gliding like a goshawk through the forests. Novrus focused his mind on the memory. He searched through the image for ways to improve his stride. One day he might get to be just as swift.
Day 6 of the 6th week before midwinter
Finally the retted hemp had dried to be workable. In the warmth of stead Novrus got to work in the smoker side. As before with no meat smoking it was quite pleasant to work here. The table and bench made the work more efficient. Winds didn’t penetrate the walls except when he desired the shutter open for light. Even without his fur overcoat nor a fire in the fireplace Novrus was sometimes sweating in his work. Outside the temperature dropped further leaving indoor Novrus merely warm without sweat. Stocks of food were plentiful with a host lingonberry turnovers and barley hardtack added to the meats, turnips and porridges.
Returning to the hemp he used a spindle and distaff to spin up the crushed, dried and before that soaked hemp into threads. Novrus thinks of the work yet to come. He would need a loom. By the next day the loom was sitting in the work area awaiting the sets of threads that would be crisscrossed over it. It took up a lot of space to use it. When idle the loom would be put up into the rafters of this tall house.
(Note: A minor hiccup recovered from as the ‘spindle and distaff’ counted as a wooden stake when I build a fence. Fortunately I realized it and it was nearby. When you dismantle the fence you get the parts back. The tool was safely in the house when the fence was rebuilt outdoors.)
Meanwhile he had cooked a batches of durable hard tack. A portion was wrapped away by the sleeping bunk as emergency food should he become greatly ill. Others were wrapped away in the cellar for the same reason and duplicity of location should an animal raid one stash or the other. This was something mother had taught them to do.
There was a night of worry. The howling of the wind sounded different. The shutters flapped and banged against their restraint. A fluff of snow even invaded the house. Curled into the corned of his sleeping bunk Norvus reached for an axe with one hand and that red foe’s shield with the other. Was he getting a visit from an angry spirit? He waited. The howling passed. The shutters banged no more.
In the morning he learned the reason for the anger. Two birds had died in the traps near the camp. They had been caught a day or two again. During the time Novrus was building the loom and spinning thread those birds had been suffering. They had died of thirst and pain. The forest had good reason to be angry. There were also live animals, one of them a small hare.
Novrus skinned them all. The hare was butchered first. As a living one it felt closest to the journey. Novrus went into the spiritual circle he used for rarely. A smokey fire of spruce was set. A cut from the hair set onto it. The smoke blackened as the hare’s spirit rose away guiding, he hoped, all the others with it.
Novrus made sure to patrol the pit traps today. Though they produced no large game. One had a squirrel near it. He cleaned them, rebalanced the cross bars and set new spruce on them. The bait, untouched and frozen, was put back on.
Day 4 of the 5th week to midwinter point
Novrus pulled the loom down from the rafters. He leaned against the wall. One by one hemp threads were connected. Novrus began the labor of working the shuttle back and forth to weave linen. Slamming the threads together was harder than he thought. Into the evening he worked. His hands were getting sore. How did grandmother, mother and sister do this all day? He finished his sheet. It was of acceptable quality. It lacked decoration of course. Checking his supply Novrus was puzzled that he didn’t have enough hemp threads to properly refit the loom for another sheet.
The next morning the first thing he decided to make was a set of undergarments. The ladies definitely new this craft better than he. Putting them on the seems seemed to rub his thighs. In time he hoped the roughness would wear down or his thighs toughen up. Still it was embarrassing to think just how many lone travelers go about their lives without undergarments. These covered him from neck to wrist to ankle. With the scraps left he put together hand wraps that would fit under the leather paws which in turn could go into over sized fur mittens.
Going out skiing to try them out the rough edges quickly wore in. A squirrel in a trap, still alive, made Novrus think the forest had forgiven him. Once again it seemed like a good life for him in this unreal world.
Skiing up to the hill was easier than a week ago. Up there he saw the cloaks of traders to the north. Novrus raced downhill and to the stead to get the trade furs. Thanks to the recent sorting it was quick to grab then. He even wrapped up the elk fur. His pride for the bear fur from his first one slain was too much to even think of bringing it. Besides sleeping on it these past months was part of what this home. Skiing back the challenge now became finding them. At times he could spot them in the distance while their tracks remained elusive. By noon he had to admit the chance was missed.
Felling trees and trimming them to logs was a chore still in demand. Many more would be needed for the second house. Choosing a tree Novrus worked until he was going to drop asleep. It was a time for a test. Moving a safe distance away, lest the partially cut tree blow over in the night, Novrus slept outside with no shelter. He wanted to see how well his undergarments, layers and furs did. It was snowing too.
When he woke the snow was gathered on top of him. That is a good sign. It means his heat is trapped inside rather than melting the snow. Getting up the furs did crinkle with ice. A little had melted and refrozen. All the while Novrus had felt warm. Pleased at his ability to face the winter he continued his chores and baking.
<Novrus tested sleep>