Page 6 of A Winter Courtship
He knew it was Ulrich.
Still, Lutoth had to be sure. “Edwin, why is that big man feeding that reindeer?” Lutoth asked.
“That’s Ulrich, the blacksmith, with his reindeer, Ethel,” Edwin said.
“Ethel?” Lutoth asked.
“Ulrich saved her when she was a calf,” Edwin said. “She was starving. He looked after her, and then she wouldn’t leave him.”
“Interesting.” Lutoth watched Ulrich feed Ethel more oats from his coat pocket, continuing to smile at her.
Lutoth wanted that smile. Wanted it to be his again, just like that one summer so many years ago.
In the years since, he’d thought fondly of the human. Had Ulrich ever thought of Lutoth? Had he even remembered him?
Sometimes, Lutoth wondered if something more could have come from his crush if he’d remained in the valley. But he couldn’t change the past.
Throughout the rest of that day in Ores, he’d watched Ulrich. By the time Lutoth had left the Solstice festivities, he’d made a decision. He wanted to make Ulrich his.
Lutoth longed to touch the dark-brown beard and rub his face against it. He wanted to stroke his muscled arms and curl his hand around Ulrich’s thick neck, gripping it as he pressed their lips together. But he didn’t want just one night or a quick tumble.
He’d had enough of that. He wanted more. He wanted a man who lived and breathed these mountains and forests. A man who stayed in one place his entire life. A man with whom he could make a home. And he was sure that man was Ulrich. He knew it deep in his gut.
ChapterFive
Lutoth continued walking towards the valley. He reached the cliff’s edge and climbed down, his textured hands gripping the rough grey stone. Lutoth’s muscles flexed as he climbed, the wind supporting him.
After seeing Ulrich at the Solstice festivities eleven months ago, he’d returned to the valley where his father lived.
“I saw a human in the village,” Lutoth said, trying to suppress the excitement bursting through his veins. “I met him years ago when I was visiting you.” They sat together on a woven mat on the cave floor, eating dried fish by a fire. “I think I want to approach him.”
“Hmmm.” His father smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Lutoth stopped eating. “Is that a problem?” Why would his father not want him with a human?
“No! Not a problem.” His father hesitated. “Just make sure you are certain. Okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just, you wouldn’t want him to fall in love with you, only to have you leave with the wind. Wouldn’t want to leave the poor man heartbroken.” He gave Lutoth a sad smile and bit into the fish, chewing slowly, eyes full of shadows.
Lutoth sat there speechless. Was that what his father thought of him? That he would woo this man only to leave him?
But that was exactly what his mother had done to his father.
Lutoth reached the valley floor and walked through the trees towards his father’s cave.
Over the years, he’d heard fragments of what had passed between his mother and father before his birth.
“I’d scaled a mountain and stood on the peak, gazing out over the mountains and valleys before me,” his father had told him. “I stood alone. Then a gust of wind blew.
“I turned, and there she was. A sylph, a spirit of the air and wind. Your mother. I’d never seen anyone as beautiful.” He’d smiled at the memory. “I’d never met a sylph before. The air seemed alive around her. Her hair and dress floated on the breeze. It was as if she was at one with the wind. She smiled at me, and I was lost.”
His father and mother had fallen for each other. But everyone warned his father: “She is a sylph. You cannot keep her. Sylphs travel with the wind. They do not stay in one place.” Then his mother had gotten pregnant. And one day, when she was six months along, she’d left. No word. No goodbye to his father. Just left.
“Your father was so heartbroken,” his auntie Mila had told him. “He loved her so much.”
As he’d grown, Lutoth and his mother had moved from place to place. One day when he was nine, they’d come back. He’d walked through the valley, keeping close to his mother, his hand in hers.
