Falling to the Viking

by M. Garnet

  She didn’t care if he was part of a cult that lived in the backwoods. He was strong and hard. He would protect her for the time that she was here and god, it felt so good.

  He held her with those large hands on her waist again, but her eyes had rolled upwards as she felt him fill her as no one had filled her before. He needed to hold her to keep his deep thrusts from pushing her away.

  As he pulled back and entered deeply again, she had to reach for him, to find a solid handgrip that was up under his arms, onto the muscles of his back. He now had his hands placed in the fur on each side of her head, above her shoulders, pinning her in place. She felt the next climax building as she lost track of everything but his hot body with their contact. She rode it higher, digging her nails into his back as she went over the edge, feeling him dumping hot seed far inside her body.

  Then, he collapsed on her. He rolled sideways just a small amount to pull out of her, but lay beside her, one leg over her, arms around her, head on her chest. As their breathing slowed, she was too weak and sated to complain or move. She finally heard a strange noise and understood it was Rodmar snoring. Boy, barbarians sure did it different from what her boyfriend did when he coaxed her into his bed. This one did it much better.

  Chapter Four

  Asta came in with her arms full and it didn’t take Dick Tracy for Kathryn to figure out what the next job was. Clean up time. She decided it was better to go along with the local plan until she had a chance to get away from this backwoods Viking players group and return to civilization.

  They shook the furs as they removed any dirty ones—oops, one with semen stains. Asta looked at her with a raised eyebrow. There were strange herbs to scatter around the walls and some nice smelling leaves to put among the furs. Asta gathered up the clothes that Rodmar had discarded. She indicated that Kathryn should bring the cold water left over from last night.

  Kathryn had already used it to clean her own body up earlier, including between her legs. She was almost glad she didn’t speak the language in order not to have to answer any questions.

  Asta showed her where to dump the dirty things, where some women were busy doing the laundry. Asta showed her where the local comfort station was. Great, there were holes in the ground with piles of leaves in place of TP and all of it was unisex. At least breakfast was good. It was cold meat and, boiled eggs, with a couple of the small apples.

  Asta led her over to a small hot spring that was really bubbling. It was near the spa washing area. She saw Rodmar and a couple of other men, one of them looking at his scratched back. He was evidently taking a teasing by the boys, the usual type of stuff. Still, she felt uncomfortable as eyes turned towards her as when she and Asta drew buckets from the extra hot water. She thought there was a little too much hunger in some of those eyes.

  She had to get a plan to find out exactly where they were in connection to Hals, but better still, how far away it was. She didn’t mind another go around with the big blond, but she didn’t want to stay around in case Rodmar decided to share.

  She wasn’t sure what this whole community was all about, but it sure was authentic. Someone had probably already told her the details, but unfortunately, they hadn’t told her in English.

  She walked behind Asta, carrying the hot bucket of liquid. She wasn’t sure where they were heading, but she was constantly looking at the buildings. She tried to memorize the footpaths between the gardens. There had to be some plan to the layout of the village.

  She was stumbling along for several moments, looking back, before she realized she was walking on sand. She shifted the heavy bucket, then raised her eyes to stare. She froze as it took a long moment for her mind to process what she was seeing.

  First, they were on the edge of the water in a very busy working area. There were many workers and helpers. Many people in the long shirts that she thought indicated either slaves or servants. These people, like her she and Asta, were carrying items back and forth like busy ants. They seemed to be helping actual Vikings, who were doing the more important work.

  What was in front of her was the open framework of a very large boat, in its infancy, still getting the skeleton into shape around the dip of the center heavy large beam. Yet, that wasn’t what took her breath away. It was the four other boats, each docked deep in the sand further down the beach, with Vikings moving around them.

  These were the real items—true Viking sea-going boats, just like in the pictures. Not new, but well-worn, with proud stains accompanied by the drape of nets and ropes. There were items around the boats as well as on the decks. One had men in on the high pole either hanging or removing yards of material. These men were blond Vikings, working in only the brown diaper- type of under clothes, with their skin glistening in the sun.

  Beyond them for as far as she could see was water, deep wave-chopped water, until it disappeared into the horizon. Seagulls glided in the distance, but she could not see any ships farther out. She looked both ways as far as she could see on the sandy beach and there was no traffic, no sign of civilization.

  Asta returned to her.

  “Kadlin?”

  Kathryn finally looked at Asta. “Is that Langerak Channel?”

  Asta looked at Kathryn for a moment then said a couple of words and nodded assent as she ended in “…Langerak.” Asta’s accent was thick, but the word was clear.

  Kathryn looked around as she sank to her knees. “Where is Hals?” It was not a loud question.

  Asta nodded. “Hej, Hals.” Asta pointed at the buildings and gardens behind them. “Hej, Hals.”

  Kathryn sat in the sand trying to breathe in the salt air. Nothing was helping. This wasn’t some pretend game or a group of people trying to re-enact the past. This was the past.

  She was choking and not aware that her own body was smothering. This was the past. This was impossible. Was she dead? Had the explosion or whatever happened at the museum killed her and she was in someone else’s body in the past? Her stomach was cramping. That didn’t make any sense. She never heard of anyone’s mind traveling through time. However, she also had never heard of anyone’s body traveling through time. Except in Sci-Fi.

  She had to get up. She had to get out of here. She had to return to her aunt. She looked over her shoulder to where a tall monument should be standing, would be standing, sometime in the future. How far in the future? How far had she been tossed into history? No, she couldn’t think about that. It was impossible. She was losing her mind.

  Kathryn was aware that Asta was kneeling in front of her, calling to her repeatedly. Several of the other workers had stopped. She looked up, totally confused. What was she going to do? She let Asta pull her to her feet and the world turned black.

  The next thing she knew, she was looking into a pair of pale blue eyes surrounded by the type of wrinkles found in a forgotten apple, the entire dark-creased face framed by a wild halo of white hair that was untamed.

  A low voice came from the old grooved mouth. “Ahh.” There were some more words that, of course, Kathryn did not understand. The woman had Kathryn’s dress up to her waist with a ridged rough hand splayed across her stomach.

  There was a loud noise and both Kathryn and the old witch looked at the opening in the hut where Kathryn was lying down. It was Rodmar with a strange questioning look on his face.

  He looked at where the hand was placed, asking a question.

  “Naj.” The grey white hair trembled as she shook her head back and forth.

  Kathryn’s foggy brain put two and two together. The old witch thought she might have fainted as if she was pregnant. The witch had told Rodmar that she wasn’t, but that got Kathryn’s mind working. It was already in turmoil and now it had one more thing to tear it into pieces.

  She had sex with a man without protection. Actually, during that session, she had gladly participated several times. Unprotected sex. She fought the tears, but many did slip out and rolled down into her hair.

 
Rodmar said something as he stood with his arms over that wide chest. He looked happy. Evidently, he didn’t want someone else’s child.

  “Kadlin.” The witch went to a shelf and returned with some type of bowl that had a stopper. She spoke, but acted out a few gestures that began to make sense. She patted Kathryn’s stomach, shaking her head, no. She held her hand low in front of her like she was a man holding his penis. She nodded yes, but then again, she touched Kathryn’s stomach and said, “Naj.” She opened the bowl, taking out some cream on her finger, then pointing between Kathryn’s legs. “Naj bebé.”

  Kathryn sat up, accepting the small bowl. Okay, homemade birth control. It made sense. They had to have some way to control this or there would be so many kids they would be overrun.

  Wait! Was she accepting that she was in the past? No, she was accepting the fact that she was insane. Somewhere in normal time, she was strapped down to a table with tubes in her veins as well as down her throat. There were efficient well-trained professionals working around her. She was surrounded with modern equipment that was fighting to keep her alive as she went insane and believed she was in the past, living with actual Vikings.

  Yes, that made sense. She could accept that and get through this. It was all a figment of her overactive brain. Maybe if the doctors did save her life, when she woke up, she would write a story about it.

  In the meantime, Rodmar had turned, looking at her. He said something to the witch who nodded with the reply of, “Hej.”

  Rodmar nodded and displayed a crooked smile. He looked at Kathryn. He jerked his head to indicate he wanted her to follow him.

  Kathryn stood up, hesitating, but her body reminded her about last night. He had been gentle and then rough. He had done things that no other man had ever done to her. She had more orgasms in one night than in all of her sexual experiences. Well, maybe the doctors wouldn’t be able to wake her up right away.

  She didn’t wait any longer. She no longer worried that they didn’t speak the same language. No…check that. There was a language they did speak.

  About the Author

  After raising a daughter, running an International Business, traveling the world and only finding time to write a few minutes in any twenty-four hour period, Muriel now is retired in Florida and can write all day and all night, which she often does. Under the pen name of M. Garnet she uses all the experience she gained and without any hesitation draws information from her long list of friends and acquaintances worldwide. She loves to hear from you at mgarnet2@yahoo.com.