I huff at him before I turn back around, and he says, backing up and away from me, “For now I want you practicing moving the sword straight up and down. Once you master that or feel comfortable, we can move onto different angles.”
Now that I think about it, I remember as a young girl watching the young warriors train and how for hours, they would swish their sword up and down as their commander watched them pacing back and forth. I didn’t think I would be doing it either....
I then do as I am told and raise the sword up before swishing it down. The first movement to me feels slow and clumsy compared to how those men did it, but I suppose they weren’t perfect at it either the first time.
As I practice the movement, I hear Frey then say as he plops down in the dirt watching me, “I will have the blacksmith make you your very own sword. Something light and well balanced at the same time. And it is something you should treasure. Every warrior treasures their sword. Most of my warriors here can’t even afford one.”
He then mutters more, watching me. “But for you, I will make an exception. I will get it done before I leave.”
I stop my sword movements abruptly, and I then ask him surprised as I stare, “You’re leaving?”
“I am,” he replies. “Just for a little while with Leif and the others. Mother will still be here with you and put in charge.”
“Where are you going and for how long exactly?” I ask him.
He is hesitant at first before he replies to me, “We’re going to England, and perhaps we will be gone a year, maybe two.”
I swallow hearing he was going back to my homeland, and he probably won’t tell me the reason, but I have a feeling he will do what the other Vikings are doing over there—getting some of their people to settle on stolen and pillaged land.
I get quiet thinking how I could possibly sneak on to one of their boats, but he would probably notice eventually, and I don’t know for sure which part of England he is focused on attacking.
His eyes narrow slightly at me, and he stands up from his sitting position. He walks past me before he says, patting my shoulder, “Well, continue practicing. I am going to talk to the blacksmith for you.”
He then walks away, leaving me there, and I grip Frey’s sword tightly before continuing the up and down movements more harshly.
He is going back to England...I need to think. Is it best to stay and continue to train or beg him or sneak onto one of their boats, but there aren’t too many places to hide.
I get frustrated the more time that passes, sweat building on my forehead and my arms start to get sore but yet again I force myself to continue with the movements before I feel severe cramping in my stomach, forcing me to stop and put down the sword.
I wince slightly, placing a hand on my stomach that hurt, and before I know it, it feels damp in my underwear, and something runs down my leg.
Don’t tell me...
I then look down and lift my dress slightly to see blood running down my leg, and my heart nearly stops. I have bled...I was no longer a child meaning Frey could marry me now as a woman.
He can’t find out but how do I hide it?
I put down my dress and go to walk away to clean up before anyone notices I am gone, but it is then I hear a voice behind me ask, “What is wrong?”
I then turn around to see Frey once more, and I instantly reply as he walks around me, tossing up and down a coin before pocketing it, “Nothing. I’m just not feeling too good. I want a break to get some water. I think it’s the heat.”
“I see, do you want to stop for today?” he asks me, bending over and picking up the sword on the ground, placing it back in his sheath.
I nod my head, and Frey continues to stare at me before he says, “You have bled, haven’t you?”
I look at him in shock before he says, “I can smell it. The scent of blood is strong around you.”
“I don’t know. I must have cut myself,” I say, fear quickening my pulse.
He narrows his eyes more at me before he says, “You’re scared.” I don’t say anything before he asks me, “What of?”
I avert my gaze, the cramps not going away, and I rub at my stomach, trying to make myself feel better.
“Ellie,” he says lowly.
I then reply quickly, turning my gaze back to him, “I am scared of what you are going to do now. I don’t want to marry you or be forced to carry your children yet.” As I say this, I feel more fear rack my bones.
I am an idiot...I shouldn’t have said anything.
His face is stern before he sighs through his nose heavily and he says, “I’m not going to force you to marry me, and you still have a lot of growing to do.”
“But you have already stolen me from my lands and declared me as your wife,” I say backing away from him. “So, of course, you would force me to marry you and do everything else with you against my will. I don’t have a say, do I?”
He doesn’t know what to say. I can tell by the look in his eyes. That dazed and confused look of not knowing what to do or say.
“Ellie...I’m not going to force you to do anything with me, and of course, you have a say. You’re a free woman,” he says.
“Then if I am truly a free woman, I want to go back to England! I want to go back home with my friends who you made slaves!” I yell at him breathing heavily through my nose, and I clutch the fabric around my stomach.
Frey is quiet, and he says after some time passes, “I can’t do that, Ellie. I can’t bring you back to England.”
“Why not?” I ask him, my eyes getting teary against my will.
“Because it is not safe. Your kingdom is weakened since we attacked and other Vikings, not just us, continue to raid England. I want to be able to protect you,” he explains, his face serious.
“What about the king and queen of Thovalon? Are they alive?” I ask him, hoping to finally get an answer.
“Your king is dead,” he replies, and I feel tremendous pain in my chest. “He died by our hands once overthrowing the kingdom. It sickened us to see such a fat and lazy king sitting on top of the throne. But since then his son has taken over and continues to replenish their forces.”
Father was dead...at least one of my brothers was still alive. He has taken his spot, and I hope Edward or Cedric haven’t forgotten about me.
“And the queen?” I ask, my eyes cast down in fear of his answer.
“She’s alive,” he replies, and I feel a weight has been lifted from my chest. I collapse into the dirt relieved, but I still feel pained at the news of my father’s death, despite the fact we weren’t that close. Tears stream down my face, and I don’t know if they are happy or sad tears.
Frey steps towards me, and he kneels down to me before resting his hand on my shoulder in a way to comfort me. I don’t move until Frey lifts me up by my arm and guides me back home to get cleaned up and the entire time, I am relieved the more I think about it.
Mother and one and maybe two of my brothers were alive.
It seems God has not abandoned me totally after all.
Chapter 12
The Past & The Present
December 11th, 1000 AD
The winter air was harsh this year. It cut right through my clothing, and I huddle more into the wool cloak that Noma had given me as a gift last year.
My horse trudges through the snow and even she was cold no doubt, yearning to be in a much warmer barn while I yearned to be inside by a warm fire.
I hold the reins to the horse tightly, my fingers feeling numb. During times like this, I wonder how he and the rest are doing.
Is he cold? Is the winter there as bad as it is here? Or are they mostly all dead?
I didn’t get to see him off the day he left.
After leaving just a sword at the foot of my bed when I was still a child, he departed from the village, and since then I have not seen or heard from Frey at all.
His departure was quiet, and I heard he left at night, strangely enough, but then again Frey
was a wolf at heart so he must have followed his primal instincts along with the other Viking warriors he left with.
There are rumors, of course, that his time in England is being spent well, that he is farming on fertile lands with his brother Leif, and that their people that were brought there are well off as they have strong warriors to protect them.
Vikings will not be trounced by the Saxon warriors, or so the villagers like to boast.
It’s been about four years since he left us, and the days he trained me were few, but his lessons still linger at the back of my mind.
I would not forget what he taught me. Frey is a great warrior, and his name well known in these lands. I am sure by now even over in England.
I am still known as Frey’s wife to some and when he is back, we will have a great wedding but others acknowledge me as something far greater than just a wife. They acknowledge me as a warrior in my own right, one of them, despite the fact that I’m not a beast or descendant of Fenrir.
I enjoy that, being something more than just a wife. It reminds me of when I received my armband with Bard three years ago. I was elated and felt for the first time in my life that I was something more than just a simple “princess” or a “wife” but instead received a title that I never thought I would have.
I am a warrior, a shield maiden.
After all this time, I still don’t accept Frey as my future husband. If he wants such things, he will have to earn that title just like the others who bid for my hand in marriage. These offers come in secret from some of the men in the village, but I am never interested.
I let them know it too, and some are angered and tell me I am “fleeing from the penis.” A term I often hear when a woman doesn’t want to get married.
The same is true when it is a man who doesn’t want to get married. They are told the same thing except it is “fleeing from the vagina.”
Noma said I was a free woman, and so I was. I will not be forced to marry anyone, I promise myself that. It will be by my choice if I marry a man and my decision only. Not the man’s decision.
My eyes glance towards a tree with an old and worn arrow sticking out of the bark, and I am reminded of the warm summer months years back when Frey was still with us in the village, and he was training me to be a better warrior.
It’s almost like I can feel the imaginary warmth from that time beat down on my skin, and it was then I had witnessed his wolf up close.
Big, dark, and scary, just like the black wolf in my dreams. I remember my last experience with a wolf wasn’t so pleasant, so I was cautious of him.
He had circled me in that form as if to tell me it was okay, most likely sensing the fear I felt as he brushed up against me. Though during that brief moment, I somehow felt better as I got to run my fingers through the long and coarse fur before he wandered off to the woods.
I still remember Frey’s words before then, and he had told me to try and get a shot at him with my bow. Somehow, he had convinced me to do it, and I spent most of my day running after him in the very same forest trying to get a shot at him.
Eventually, I did land a shot at him but in his hind leg, and he had pulled it out with his teeth. I remember how I panicked, and with my very own eyes, I watched as the open wound healed up nearly seconds later.
It seems only certain things can kill them while in wolf form. You had to do a lot of damage, and a simple arrow wound was nothing more than a scratch.
After he had celebrated with me for getting a shot on him, which made me feel bewildered as it was, then I had my first cup of ale with Frey’s constant companions for the rest of the evening into the early morning.
Even Leif said he was proud of me for getting a shot at his stupid brother and it was then Runa glowered in jealousy while serving the men.
Aw, poor Runa now.
I am brought back from my memories as I pass the mead hall she is practically chained to. She had been heartbroken over Leif’s departure, and she is always sacrificing to the gods in hopes for his good health. If only Leif knew how much she loves him.
The horse trudges slowly back to the house, and I am left in my thoughts of how I was dumb and greedy, and maybe this is a punishment for staying out too long when I should have left the minute the snow started to pick up.
I stare down at the four dead rabbits I have stuffed into a bag by my leg, and I suppose it is well worth it rather than eating freeze-dried fish tonight like we usually do in the winter or other preserved foods. I much prefer fresh food along with Noma who didn’t have time to hunt.
A powerful cold gust of wind nips painfully at my uncovered skin and no doubt my cheeks are rosy. It makes me cover my face, shielding myself from the worst of it.
Once the wind dies down, I mutter to my horse, rubbing its side, “I’m sorry I put you through this. We just have a little more to go girl.”
The horse was also a gift from Noma.
A pure white horse which she says matches me, and she just had to buy for her daughter-in-law. She is beautiful though most of the time her white coat is stained with dirt. She is an easy-going mare, and it makes me laugh because she sometimes has a tendency to bully Frey’s horse in the barn.
Eventually, we make it back to the house, and I put her in the barn where she is finally shielded from the cold.
I then go back to the house, eager to get by the warm fire and when I open and close the door I am greeted by Noma. Surprisingly, my eyes glance over to Bard who leans up against the wall, and his brown eyes drift over towards me.
He is frowning, and his face is definitely shaped into that of a man. His hair is still cropped shortly, and since he has turned into a man, he has tattooed his face with various symbols that are from their culture, and he also sports a scruffy beard but not a long one.
I take my hood off, putting the bag full of dead rabbits down on the bench, and I wander to the fire, more focused on warming my cold bones.
I then also take my cloak off, and I ask Noma, my eyes glancing to the woman who sits in the chair grinning nearly ear to ear at me, “Why is he here?”
“Well, Bard has come here with a proposal for me,” she says.
“And that is?” I question, raising a brow, not liking where this proposal could lead when it is coming from none other than Bard, a childhood enemy of mine.
I like to think we are still enemies, but we grew apart from each other and didn’t really speak much other than a couple of words here and there.
“For me to consider letting you marry him for a good price as he says my son Frey might be very well dead and if we wait any longer, you will be husbandless for the rest of your life,” she explains.
My eyes widen in shock, at first looking to Noma then Bard, whose face remains serious. I am silent as the fire starts to ease the chill from my body. I am uncertain how to reply and it is then I cast my eyes down in thought.
There is no way I would marry Bard. He is even worse than Frey, but I am unsure what Noma is considering at the moment.
I pray she allows me choice.
Bard is the first man to approach Noma with this question rather than me. He is being rather bold.
She is silent, and she gets up from her seat and walks over towards me. She approaches me by the fire before saying quietly, “The choice is up to you. If you want to marry him, then do it. To me, you will always be family but...Frey will be extremely unhappy.”
I sigh before I reply to her, “I understand.” My eyes then glance to Bard, and I announce to him, “I will not marry you. I’m sorry.”
He stops leaning against the wall, and he approaches me slowly with Noma still at my side. He says, looking down at me, “Pity then...I’m offering a good price for you when you aren’t even a true shield maiden. But it seems you’re still stuck on the idea of marrying a possible dead man.”
I purse my lips before saying, looking sternly into his eyes, “No, I am not. But it is truly a pity you mistreated me as a child. I might actually consider such a
proposal if you were just even a bit nicer to me.”
I grin slightly at him, and he sucks his teeth in obvious irritation. “Well, you changed. You have gotten better with age.” His eyes roam my body before staring at my face, and he says, “And your face isn’t that bad either. I thought I would give you a chance, but you might have lost out on so many opportunities...Ones where you might actually have a chance to go back to England.”
He walks swiftly past me, and my eyes glance down in thought as he opens and shuts the door, the winter breeze briefly invading the warm home.
England...It’s been so long since I thought about it. My brothers, mother...my innocent childhood stolen from me and even my times spent with Margaret and the other children.
Margaret—oh, yes. I have not entirely forgotten about her. There are times I talk to her if she has the spare time and give her real food as her master does not treat her very kindly, but she has grown distant towards me. So distant in fact, she avoids giving me any eye contact.
I want to know if she is okay, but once again, I have become a greedy and spoiled princess. I am treated fairly while she is not. I am given freedom while she is bound by chains, and not only that, the woman’s words still plague me from the day I was kidnapped from my land.
“Just like I can see her future, I can see how jealous you will get of your friend someday little one. Both taken by the wolves, yet one is bound by chains, while the other has freedom.”
I know I can’t remember exactly what she said, but it was something like that.
That old woman was right about everything else, so why would she be wrong about this? Was Margaret jealous of me now? Did she despise me and look at me with disgust every time she sees me? Am I no longer considered a friend?
I can see why I haven’t been a very good friend...I could focus on talking to Noma to set her free. I am sure she eventually would listen, seeing as I am no longer a foreigner to these people but one of their own warriors.
I then turn around, staring at the door, thinking about Bard’s words. Did I lose a chance at going back to England possibly with Margaret and the rest? Or was Bard lying to me, a trick to get me to marry him? Did I even want to go back to my old ways? Would my people accept me as I am now?
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