The celebration had started nice, there was a magnificent feast, as well as gift giving to which I was gifted my very own set of furs taken straight from what looked like a small wolf.
Lucky me I guess, but towards the end, all I remember is darkness when I witnessed them do a live sacrifice of a barn animal to their gods. It was best to forget such times. It was only darkness and plus it was a reminder they were all evil pagans.
Currently, it was summer once more. Spring had already come and gone. The only way to keep track of time was through the seasons for me. But during all this time, I have learned to run fast, speak a little of their language, and learn more about their culture.
Nearly every other day, the Viking woman whose name I have learned over time as Noma makes me run from the same spot the young warriors trained to the house. Though only half of it was running. For me, more walking was done because unfortunately, and fortunately, I was no wolf.
These Vikings are wolf people. They worship their gods and also wolves, and I know from experience they share a lot of characteristics with these animals.
That man, Frey, had sharp teeth, and his eyes had changed, but since that day I have only seen glimpses of these rare wolf features, and in my dreams I nearly always dreamed of a wolf the color of darkness.
I found the language they called Norse was an odd language on my tongue. It was hard and complicated unlike some of the Latin words I was taught as a child. I was taken from my land before I could learn any more, but most words that rolled off my tongue seemed strange.
And my land...I haven’t forgotten, no.
I think about England nearly every day, but I keep my mind busy so I don’t get swallowed in my own grief.
I have tried speaking about what happened over in England and the previous land I inhabited but no one in the village ever discusses such things with me, just telling me it was raided. I came back with the treasures, and that’s all they know.
It irritates me to some extent, but I think perhaps if I train hard enough, I can become a shield maiden and join one of their raids to get an idea of where my land is so I can go back to it.
So, more training was what I did.
Noma let me participate in some activities like learning how to form a shield wall, running, and how to avoid basic attacks and defend myself but never swordsmanship. She said it could wait until I got more mature.
I was mature enough. I was ready.
I have also yet to knock her over even though attempting a number of times. It was pretty much impossible to knock that woman down, but recently her training has come to a stop in this last month, the reason unknown.
So, I have resorted to training myself, and I hate to admit, but I also have turned to Frey for some help and guidance.
He had only grinned when I first asked him and called me “Cute” in English while lounging with his brother in the mead hall; apparently, I wasn’t the only one learning new languages.
He was useless, and I had walked away thinking myself foolish as to ask for that brute’s help. It was his fault I was here in the first place…his stupid fault.
Eventually, I even went to Leif who actually didn’t mind and agreed to help me. Unlike Noma or Frey, Leif had given me a bow and arrow telling me how to place the arrow properly, and it was a lot harder than it looked.
And here we were.
The hot summer air beat down on us, and while Leif sat in the shade under a tree watching me, I attempted at placing the arrow and pulling back the string after lifting it towards the target.
Though before I can even pull back enough, my hand slips and the arrow shoots pathetically a few inches away from me, or perhaps it didn’t even shoot, and it had just fallen.
“Do you need any more help?” questions Leif, who grins smugly and gets more comfortable in the shade, taking a bite out of an apple, a favorite fruit of the two brothers.
“No, I’m good,” I retort, irritated and bending over to pick up the arrow. I attempt it again, but the same thing happens, making me grow even more exasperated.
“My hands are sweaty is all,” I say which wasn’t a lie. They really were clammy.
I hear him take another bite of the apple and he says with his mouth full, “You have to point your bow down when putting the arrow on the string.”
“I know,” I say, irritated since he already told me before and I point the arrow down and take three of my fingers as he instructed earlier, attempting to pull the arrow back while still being aligned perfectly straight.
I then raise the bow and arrow slightly, my arms trembling from the strength I had to put into keeping the arrow straight and keeping it pulled back.
“Oh. You’re doing good for a first timer. But try and keep your position and stay like that until you feel comfortable,” says Leif and out of the corner of my eye, I see him sit up more against the tree.
Sweat drips from my forehead and rolls down my cheek. I attempt to hold it there as he instructs, but I let go, and it shoots a foot away from me and nowhere near my target.
I sigh heavily, and Leif stands up after discarding his apple and tossing it into the woods. He walks towards me, pats my head, and he says, “Keep practicing. You can have the bow and arrow. I have another one, this is my old one.”
I nod my head, and I then ask curiously, “Are you leaving to go to Runa?”
Runa was a server at one of Leif and Frey’s favorite “taverns” which was also known as a mead hall.
I have met her a couple of times but never stayed around her too much. Her eyes were always unkind to me, staring me down, and she even curled her lip back showing those wolf teeth.
She had dark curly hair and eyes of gold which I have never seen before. I was a little astonished by it when I first saw them. I couldn’t believe it, eyes that resembled the gold from my home.
Other than her gold eyes, Runa was also quite chubby with round cheeks, a large belly, and plump arms and legs. She was different from the others here, who were lithe, fit, and strong appearing.
I didn’t fail to notice Leif seemed to like her, and he didn’t seem to mind her being chubby from what I have seen.
Though when I ask about his fondness for her, he always denies it and just says he likes being with a woman who knows how to eat and that’s it—nothing more than that.
He averts his eyes for a moment, and he replies, “Yes, why do you want to know?”
“You like her, right?” I ask him curiously, wondering what he would say this time.
“I like her as a friend, and I sometimes enjoy her company as a woman,” he responds, and he then starts walking away, clearly not wanting to talk about it anymore than he already has after patting the top of my head.
He then says after walking further away from me, “Keep practicing. I’m sure you will get better with time!” And with that, he leaves me to my own accord which was good for me. I am better at working alone.
The rest of the day, I keep practicing until late afternoon, and when my hands are sore, I try soothing them in the stream nearby after walking into the woods and setting my bow beside me.
The cold water feels good to my hands which are sore from constantly pulling the string back. Mostly my fingers suffer from the pain and my shoulders are a little stiff.
I also start to think about how many times I could have escaped or how I could be free now. But I only had two options—run further into lands I do not know and could be filled with a dangerous amount of possibilities such as more barbarians or animals, and the second, which was impossible, was getting a boat which would require a crew.
I had a feeling, despite the fear of other barbarians or animals, Frey would find me no matter where I ran.
My only option was to grow into being a shield maiden, go out on one of their raids to England and take my chances there. I could return home, escaping from these pagans.
‘Yes, that is my plan,’ I think watching the water wash over my hands.
Suddenly, I he
ar the snapping of twigs and rustling sounds, and I whip my head in the direction of the sound, panic swelling up inside of me at what it could be.
Then, I start to feel embarrassed at my slight panic remembering the last time it was just Arvid, Leif and Frey’s father. That incident happened a little over a year ago, but I still remember it as if it was yesterday. Wetting myself like that and being my age...it was shameful.
Before I can even call out to this person, he shows himself. A little boy around my age, wearing a red shirt, an odd wooden necklace that looked to be a wolf someone whittled, and brown pants.
The boy also has light brown hair that comes to about his ears, and light chocolate brown eyes that are slightly narrowed upon seeing me.
“Who are you?” I ask in their native tongue, though it seems strange to me as I have not spoken much of it, just fragments here and there.
He responds, coming out of view and on the opposite side of the stream, stepping over stones to get to my side. “I could be asking you the same thing, girl.”
I understand a little about what he has said, enough to know he’s turning the question around on me. He smirks slightly, a grin that reminds me of one of my elder brothers before they started to bully me out of boredom.
I take my hands out of the stream and pat them dry on my dress, then I stand up and respond. “Ellie. My name is Ellie...and you?”
He grins more, stepping towards me, but I do not feel threatened unlike before when cornered by my brothers. I was much stronger willed than I was previously. I must admit that being here was making me into a different person.
“Ellie. Strange name,” he responds while circling me, “and my name is Bard.”
“You have a strange name too,” I retort, my eyes narrowed slightly, and I watch him closely as he steps more so he can get behind me.
“You never come to play with us children,” he states but in English, seeming to be a smart boy and already knowing a second language. “Why is that? Do you think you’re better than us because you live with our chieftain and get treated special?”
“No. I just never have time,” I respond, and the boy steps in front of me, his eyes dark and jealous.
“You never have time.” He mocks my words, his eyes rolling up and down my body. “From the looks of it you are all but a pampered princess.” He reaches out to me, flipping my hair off my shoulder and he inspects my neck where I was bitten so long ago.
“You have been marked so early,” he says, his eyes lingering on my neck. “I’m assuming by our chieftain’s eldest son, Frey. Only he is that possessive about his things, the other not so much.”
“Yes, what of it,” I mutter, feeling odd about his words. I avert my eyes, touching my neck where the scar still lingered.
“Does he touch you?” he asks. “Even though he is an adult and you’re all but a child still.”
“No,” I say, my eyes sternly lifting to the boy’s brown ones. “He doesn’t touch me at all.”
The boy frowns a bit, and he goes on to ask, “Why did Frey choose you then? Was it because of your strange hair color?”
“I don’t know,” I respond.
His eyes linger on my hair before he says, “You’re a strange girl. You come here from England after one of our raids and suddenly before we know it, you’re already claimed by one of the chieftain’s sons...Did you put a spell on him? Did you trick him like Loki would?”
As he asks these questions, he gets closer to my face, trying to intimidate me but I don’t back down. Instead, I stare straight at him and respond sternly, “I am no witch or devil if that’s what you accuse me of.”
He smirks even more and asks chuckling, “Devil?? Witch? What is that?”
My eyes widen slightly, and I respond, “A devil...You don’t know what a devil is? Or witch?”
“No,” he responds, seeming to take some interest in what I was talking about.
But before I could tell him what either one was, a bigger boy also on the opposite side of the stream comes into view, and he says, his voice just beginning to crack and turn into a man’s voice, “Bard. Remember her people are the ones who killed your father during the raid. Let’s just show her a lesson and leave.”
My heart starts thumping more in my chest as other children appear on the other side of the stream, boys and girls of all different ages, then I focus back on the boy in front of me, and I step back.
Bard sighs deeply, stepping closer once more as I move back. “That’s right. I nearly forgot why I came here.”
“You plan to hurt me?” I question, glaring at him and stepping back more.
“The English, your people, killed my father. The others here have also had family stolen from them, so it’s only fair,” he responds, stepping towards me again.
I glare at him, and I also notice the other children start filtering over and I then hiss, “You Northmen came first and attacked us! What did we ever do to you?! Of course, people would die!”
He growls at me, much like an animal, and he then hisses shoving me back making me stumble slightly. “Just shut up already!”
I then stand my ground and also shove him back. “No, leave me alone! I didn’t even ask to be here! I was taken from my land, my friends were sold and made into slaves, and I have been put into a marriage I do not want! It should be me attacking you!”
I glare at him with everything I have, and the boy goes to raise his hand, his lip curling back and before I know it, he strikes me across the face hard. My cheek stings and throbs and I also sneer at him.
“I do not care about your problems! This is revenge for my father!” he growls back.
And before he can attack me again, or I can take charge and hit him, I hear one of the other boy’s holler, “Bard, someone is coming! Let’s get out of here!”
The other children start to scramble and jump over to the other side of the stream, but Bard stays and seethes at me.
I only glare and spit on his shirt to which he goes to step forward towards me once more, but he then looks up at the top of the hill before “tsking” and running with the other children.
I then walk back to where I was, first picking up my bow and arrow before looking at what chased the other children off, and I see Noma.
She calls out to me, a frown lingering on her face. “Ellie, is everything alright?”
I am silent, before stepping up the hill towards her and I respond once getting close enough, “I am fine.”
She stares at me before she goes to reach out towards my reddened cheek and asks, “What happened?”
I avoid her touch, being in a foul mood, and I grip the bow and arrow. “I said, I am fine,” I repeat.
The Viking woman purses her lips, frowning more, and she walks behind me asking, “Where did you get the bow?”
“Leif gave it to me,” I respond. “To practice.”
“I see. Well, dinner is ready if you want to eat,” she says, keeping pace but from behind me.
I don’t respond to her, angry and wanting to be left alone. I don’t belong here, and this woman was trying to act like my real mother and the rest of them like my family, all the while trying to push me off to some man I do not know once I turn into a woman.
A man...he wasn’t even a man but a beast.
They wanted me to marry a beast pretending to be a man. No, they were all beasts, I knew that. They are wolf people after all, and here I was, a human who couldn’t protect herself in a foreign land that wasn’t my own.
For the first time in a while, I feel tears sting my eyes and I walk faster trying to create distance between Noma and me, but she tries to keep up with me which only sparks my anger.
I then whip around, yelling at her and stopping in my tracks. “Leave me alone! Can’t you see I want to be by myself!”
I am then caught off guard when she pulls me to her chest and embraces me. I am shocked, my eyes widening as she soothingly strokes my head.
“I won’t leave you alone, dear. Not wh
en you’re obviously upset. It’s a mother’s instinct,” she mutters, all the while stroking the top of my head.
More tears fall from my eyes, and I cry into her chest, dropping the bow. “I don’t belong here.”
She shushes me, still stroking my head, and she mutters, “Neither did I. I was once a slave in another land you know...Far away from here. Until I freed myself.”
“You were a slave?” I ask her more while sniffing and crying into her chest.
“I was,” she says. “Then I traveled and met Arvid, a fearsome young and handsome warrior, so I worked hard, becoming a shield maiden and eventually a wife and then a mother.”
“I can’t picture you a slave,” I confess, my tears somehow stopping as I hold on to her and returning her embrace.
She chuckles before she says, “I know, it’s hard to imagine.”
I then shut my eyes, relaxing into her, and for a while we stay like that and it is the first time in a while I have felt genuinely close to someone in these pagan lands.
Chapter 8
Trees & Broken Bones
July 19th, 992 AD
Every day I see the same thing...An old woman cutting the head off a hen who no longer produces eggs or pursuing one to cut the head off of while she yells at a girl I used to know to hurry with collecting the eggs of the vacant nests of hens.
I see the same trio of boys pretending to be savages like Frey and Leif, constantly battling and playing war games. It was all in preparation as to what they would be in no more than ten years, just like Frey, the man who took me, and maybe, like Frey, they would kidnap some poor little girl to be their future wife. I pray what happened to me wouldn’t happen to another girl.
I couldn’t wallow in self-pity. The Lord was testing me, and I round the corner keeping my steady pace, seeing more of the normal everyday lives of these savages.
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