Markedsplassen var full av liv.

The market square was full of life.

Overalt hang det grønn gran, og fakler kastet et varmt lys over de travle gatene.

Everywhere hung green spruce, and torches cast a warm glow over the bustling streets.

Duftene av stekte kjøttbiter og ferskt brød blandet seg med lyden av latter og musikk.

The scents of roasted meats and fresh bread mingled with the sound of laughter and music.

Yule-festivalen var i full gang.

The Yule festival was in full swing.

Sindre satt ved boden sin, med blikket rettet mot de intrikate treskjæringene han stolt hadde vært med å skape.

Sindre sat by his stall, his gaze focused on the intricate wood carvings he had proudly contributed to creating.

Hver figur bar en historie, hver linje et minne.

Each figure bore a story, each line a memory.

Men han ønsket noe mer enn bare håndverket sitt.

But he desired something more than just his craft.

Han ønsket noen å dele det med.

He wanted someone to share it with.

Ingrid, datteren til en kjent kjøpmann, vandret gjennom markedet med en nysgjerrighet lysende i øynene.

Ingrid, the daughter of a well-known merchant, wandered through the market with curiosity shining in her eyes.

Hun hadde hørt av moren at hun burde møte den unge adelsmannen som ventet sammen med foreldrene hennes.

She had heard from her mother that she should meet the young nobleman waiting with her parents.

Men det var noe annet som fanget hennes interesse.

But there was something else that caught her interest.

Mellom de ulike bodene stoppet hun opp ved Sindres plass.

Between the various stalls, she stopped at Sindre's place.

Hun bøyde seg nærmere for å studere en utskjæring av Yggdrasil, livets tre.

She leaned closer to study a carving of Yggdrasil, the tree of life.

Sindre merket henne og kjente et sug i magen.

Sindre noticed her and felt a flutter in his stomach.

Det var noe annerledes med denne unge kvinnen.

There was something different about this young woman.

Hun løftet blikket og smilte forsiktig.

She raised her eyes and smiled softly.

"Disse er vakre," sa hun.

"These are beautiful," she said.

Hennes stemme var mild, men full av ekte interesse.

Her voice was gentle but full of genuine interest.

"Jeg... takk," mumlet Sindre, litt overrasket over hvor lett ordene kom.

"I... thank you," mumbled Sindre, a little surprised at how easily the words came.

"Fortell meg, hva inspirerer deg?" spurte Ingrid.

"Tell me, what inspires you?" Ingrid asked.

Hun satte seg på krakken ved siden av ham, ignorerte alt annet rundt.

She sat on the stool next to him, ignoring everything else around her.

Sindre så på treet hun hadde studert.

Sindre looked at the tree she had been studying.

Med en dyp innånding begynte han å fortelle om historiene bak figurene, om gamle legender og personlige minner.

With a deep breath, he began to tell her about the stories behind the figures, about ancient legends and personal memories.

Ordene hans ble sterkere, mer flytende, etter hvert som han fortalte.

His words grew stronger, more fluent, as he spoke.

Ingrid lyttet med stor oppmerksomhet.

Ingrid listened with great attentiveness.

Hun spurte om valkyriene, spurte om drager og troll.

She asked about the valkyries, inquired about dragons and trolls.

Med hver historie han delte, følte hun en dypere forbindelse, ikke bare til kunsten hans, men til Sindre selv.

With each story he shared, she felt a deeper connection, not just to his art, but to Sindre himself.

Mens festivalen nærmet seg slutten, hadde de to knyttet et usynlig bånd.

As the festival neared its end, the two had formed an invisible bond.

Reflekterende over temperaturen varmen mellom dem, lovte de å møtes igjen.

Reflective of the warmth between them, they promised to meet again.

Kanskje ved fjorden når isen begynte å smelte, kanskje før.

Perhaps by the fjord when the ice began to melt, perhaps sooner.

Sindre gikk bort fra festivalen med en nyvunnet selvtillit.

Sindre walked away from the festival with newfound confidence.

Han hadde åpnet seg for noen, for første gang på lenge.

He had opened up to someone for the first time in a long while.

Og Ingrid, med hjertet lett og håpefullt, begynte å se en vei foran seg som hun selv kunne forme, litt som en egen treskjæring.

And Ingrid, with a heart light and hopeful, began to see a path ahead that she could shape for herself, much like a wood carving of her own.

De hadde begge funnet noe de ikke visste de lette etter.

They had both found something they didn't know they were looking for.