[i]long last a collab between idlehands and RoadRash[/i] [i]Morning,Trelleborg[/i] Einnar heard the shout from the watchman and saw the gates being opened as he and his small group made their way into Trelleborg. They had been gone a day and it seemed like a lifetime. Roxanna walked at his heel, whining and snuffling his boots ever now and then but the huntsman focused on the task at hand. He spotted Loker making his way from the Hall, dressed in his armor and his sword was on his hip. He approached him, too tired for any niceties when Loker asked. [b]"The Jarl?"[/b] [b]"Dead,"[/b] Einnar said, pulling the large boar spear head from his belt, pushing the broken weapon at Loker. [b]"Did you see him? Could he not have been brought back for a funeral,"[/b] Loker asked, taking the spear and clutching it to his chest. Bjorn had been his Jarl's son and he had helped raise the boy and was close to him as blood. He was like the son he should have had and it pained him to acknowledge the truth. He had failed Helge and now the uneasy peace in Trelleborg could come apart at the seams at any moment. [b]"Yes, I saw his body,"[/b] Einnar lied in a weary voice.[b] "No, he could not be brought back. But he's in Valhalla, he went down fighting, that spear is proof." [/b] [b]"So he feasts with his father by Odin's side,"[/b] Loker sighed and glanced at Vigi and the rest of the tired men. [b]"I am grateful for this at least."[/b] Einnar limped away with the hound, not waiting to hear what Vigi would tell him, hoping the man kept his promise about seeing Bjorn's body. All he wanted now was his bed and a flask of mead. --------------------------- Sigrid poured buttermilk from the clay flask into a wooden bowl, crumbling some of the day old bread into it and tucked it against her waist. Back home it would be her time to make offerings to the placate the dwarves and to implore the land wights and elves for continued prosperity of the land and their health. But they were in a strange place and Sigrid worried if the dwarves would chop down Ragnar's ancestor tree in their absence, for they were grumpy creatures who disliked being ignored. In Trelleborg, they had no land or ancestor tree, no groves or waterfalls to make an offering to the wights. They were penned in like cattle and though it meant relative safety, she found herself homesick though she kept her thoughts quiet on the matter. The land wights could not live around people, they tied themselves to places of particular beauty in the wilderness. If there were any to offer their protection to Trelleborg they would probably reside in the small cluster of ash trees behind the Jarl's Hall in the open space. It was likely used for worship and thus untouched by axes, a holy place where the Jarls would seek guidance from Odin and beg the protection of the spirits of the land. [b]"But we cannot neglect the Ancient Ones, these are dangerous times,"[/b] Sigrid murmured to herself, unconsciously touching her beads where her pendant of Frigga hung. Dagny watched her mother curiously, her finger tucked in the corner of her mouth. It was a familiar sight in an unfamiliar place, the preparing of offerings. She was too young to know the gods and spirits but it comforted the toddler to see her parents doing the routine chores amongst the strangeness of their new home. Ranulf entered the longhouse with an armload of kindling and glanced around. Haakon was gone, taking Raudr and Faolan with him. He was not allowed to go, one year and a heirloom knife separating him from his older brother’s rushed entrance into manhood. He pushed some sticks into the fire, glancing at his mother. [b]“Where is Fadir? Did he leave too?”[/b] he asked quietly, his young face showing a mixture of concern and resentment. Sigrid moved to the fire, checking the contents of the pot and reached over to cup her younger son’s face, [b]“He is at his shrine, asking for favor from the gods. Have you an offering you would like to make?”[/b] Ranulf thought it over,[b] “I have no iron to give Tyr or anything worthy of a blot.”[/b] [b] “You will soon enough,”[/b] Sigrid replied, ruffling his fair hair then smoothed it back, [b] “Your hair grows so long, I will braid it for you today so you may look like a son of a thegn and not an urchin.” [/b] She smiled when she said it and gave him a brief but tight hug before going back to her business of preparing both their morning meal and the food for the spirits. Ragnar sat in his and Sigrid’s sleeping area, his sword across his lap, staring pensively at his shrine. It was a simple thing, much less decorated than the one he’d been forced to leave behind when the draugr came calling at their home, but it had runes carved to his patron god, Tyr, as well as ones denoting Thor, Odin, and a few other choice gods. Though he respected all of the gods, every man was free to choose his personal favorites, and like most warriors the big Thegn had naturally gravitated towards those whose spheres covered warfare and glorious pursuits. He reached out and briefly stroked the spear-head and seaxe that made up the two largest offerings; both had been recently cleaned and polished, as befit anything offered to the gods, and were flanked by fresh meat and mead, a bit of beer, and a few other choice items to garner the favor of his chosen deities. After a few moments he spoke, his voice soft, as he sought the blessings of the guardians of his people. [b] “Odin, All-Father, I ask today for your wisdom as I continue to confront the false-Thegn Harald. Keep my rage from clouding my thoughts, and let me see the situation as you do, objectively and without bias, that I may lead my people well. Thor, I ask for your strength and courage in the battle that will inevitably result from this conflict. When the time comes to strike, let me do so with your might, that I may crush my enemy and bring peace to this fort. Let me be fierce and strong, but just, for all that I do, I do for those around me.”[/b] The warrior paused, then addressed his patron god. [b] “Tyr, Sword-God and Oathkeeper, I ask that you keep my duties to both my family and my followers at the forefront of my mind. Help me to remain true to the oaths that I’ve made, and if the time comes to draw my sword, let it be as true and swift as your own.” [/b] Another pause came, this one longer, as Ragnar searched his mind and heart for anything else he may have to ask of his gods. Finally, he reached up to grasp his hammer and rune pendants. [b] “Let me live well, and meet my fate with courage and honor. If I should die today, may I feast with you tonight.” [/b] Satisfied, he stood, pulled on his bearskin cloak to keep out the chill, and left the room. The clouds fell from his eyes as he took in the sight of his family going about their routine, and he smiled with pride and satisfaction. Sigrid looked up when Ragnar exited their sleeping quarters, [b] “I am going to offer to the land wights, there is a copse of ash trees beyond the Hall...the only place in these walls where they may still reside.” [/b] She tucked the bowl of milk and bread against her hip, her other hand clutching a flask of ale. [b] “I would rather go outside the fort, but of course that is not to be.” [/b] Her gaze fell on her children, despite her doubts the [i]landvættir[/i] remained in Trelleborg among so many people the risk to venture outside was very real. [b] “Something for the dwarves.”[/b] she said, gesturing with the ale. [b] “The last thing we need is their mischief.[/b] Ranulf picked up a piece of the morning bread his mother made, still warm from the hearth. It would be for the elves, it was baked with a bit of honey and his mouth watered. None of their bread would have the sweet touch, it was only to help win the favor of the mysterious beings who could bring or take away illness. Sigrid dressed Dagny warmly, her small wool dress covered with a rabbit skin hooded cloak that hung down to her sturdy knees. She toddled up to her father and held out her mitten covered hands. Sigrid tried to suppress a smile when she saw Ragnar’s expression. Ranulf went to the door and held it open, the morning light glinting off the fresh snow. In any other circumstances he could have stayed and watched his little sister, but the attack from yesterday was still fresh in their minds and he had little desire to put up false bravado and demand to stay home. Ragnar the Elder bent at the waist and swept his daughter up easily into one massive arm. Cradling her in the crook of his elbow, he leaned in and tickled her cheek briefly with his beard, grinning at her giggles, then planted a loud kiss on her forehead before turning to his wife. [b] “That sounds like a good plan. All of us will go; by the time we’re done, Haakon and Raudr should be back with Tora and the others.”[/b] The Thegn grinned, patting his belly. [b] “That ought to put us back just in time for breakfast, eh?”[/b] Handing his daughter off to his wife, he reached out to briefly rest a hand atop his younger son’s head, giving him a wink and grin before stepping past him and out into the cold morning light. Ivarr, the younger of his warriors, wordlessly followed, and the two of them casually surveyed the scene outside the longhouse before Ragnar turned and gestured to his family. Though their mood seemed light and their faces calm, both men rested their hands on the hilts of their weapons in case Harald’s goons lay in wait. After a few moments, Ragnar turned and gestured to his family, smiling. [b] “The gods have given us another day; let’s not waste it.” [/b] he said brightly, turning to lead the way to the clearing as Ivarr dropped back to the rear of the group. --------------------------------- Inside the healing house a woodworker of Trelleborg named Tofi lay in a feverish sleep. His health had made a sudden turn for the worse, unexpected as did the others wounded the day before. His wife hovered nearby, keeping a close eye on him until one of the healers returned, dabbing his sweating brow with a cloth. Her husband had been fine the night before, complaining only of the ache where he had been bitten and the desire to return to their quarters. Asdis had denied him that, worried that the crowded noisy longhouse would not be a good place for him to rest and heal. He had slept peacefully until the morning when his fever spiked suddenly and she had woken from the chair next to the bed to find him sweating through his blankets. Tofi moaned in his delirium, [b]“Burns...inside, like fire.”[/b] His wife, Asdis, shook her head and looked toward the monk who slept beside the slave girl and then toward the door. The five others who had been hurt by draugr and brought to the healing house were all moaning and sweating with high fevers. She turned her attention back to Tofi and offered him water which he fumbled and spilled onto his chest. [b]“Damned elves, bringing sickness...they are not happy,”[/b] she said, her pale eyes wide with fright. [b]“We should offer to them, they’ve been neglected.”[/b] She clasped her hand on his, feeling the heat from his flesh and she gripped him tight as she felt him start to convulse. His muscles locked up and spasmed, his brain boiling with fever and his mouth foaming with blood and saliva as he bit down on his tongue. [b]“Healer! Someone help me!”[/b] Asdis cried out.