[i]((collaboration with Idlehands and Igraine))[/i]

Hallerna's eyes went wide with surprise when the seidrmadr snapped at her, but only for a moment. Vigi's apology came quickly on the heels of his irritation, of course - she knew she had done nothing to earn his ire. But men were often irritable when they were hurt, quick to bark and growl, and the way the seidrmadr held his ribs did not escape her notice, any more than the manner in which some of Trelleborg’s citizens shunned him now. The woman required no apology, nor was she made of crystallized honey, that she should melt beneath a rainstorm.

Rather, she would do exactly as the speaker for the gods had asked her, to triage whoever might be in need of bandaging and splinting or comfort, with what precious little she still had on her person. That any of these people should shun the seidrmadr rankled Hallerna to no end - how many of them truly knew all that Vigi had done and sacrificed in even the space of these past couple days? Precious few, [i]far[/i] too few if she had to guess, but there was no help for it, and if Hallerna was a single thing in this world, it was pragmatic.

She moved to a nearby longhouse, still carrying Una with one arm, stooping to snatch up one of the satchels that she and Svala had dropped during this insane ruckus. She leaned the sack against one of the walls, opposite the drift of the smoke, and carefully set the young girl atop it. Hallerna’s strong, well-calloused hands were as gentle as a fawn’s as she knelt for a moment in the icy muck, her fingers cupping Una’s smoke- and dirt-grimed face and holding her gaze with the softest smile. “You heard the seidrmadr, Una. You just stay here, and I’ll be back for you when I’ve finished.”

But Una’s lower lip began to quiver softly, her small chin dimpling and eyes shining as her unburnt hand reached to take Hallerna’s arm. [i]”Please don’t go… “[/i]

“Oh sweet girl, I’ll not be far. I’m only going to see to a few people, and - [i]AH![/i]” Hallerna leapt to her feet, deep blue eyes wide as something dark and heavy landed with a [i]*whoomp*[/i] on her shoulder, near to knocking her off balance. She reached for the old axe secured at her belt, with a snarl - 

And then let out a long, frustrated sigh, scowling as the enormous, black and grey tabby kitten began rubbing his head contentedly against her calves, circling her with a rumbling purr she could feel all the way through her skirts.

“Tore! You useless piece of dung!” Hallerna growled, though with the softest light in her eyes as she lifted the cat, the lazy thing immediately going boneless and limp as he settled into Hallerna’s arms. The woman nuzzled at the cat’s neck for a moment, murmuring more of her completely useless threats into his ruff. “I ought to have skinned your worthless hide and made a fine hat of you long ago! “

She laughed softly as she kissed the top of Tore’s head, and then looked to Una, her dark eyes wide with fascinated delight. Hallerna smiled. “Una, this is Tore the kitten. And Tore, this is the lovely lady Una. Now I must warn you, Tore is useless and lazy and not worth much more than his body heat and a bit of companionship. But I [i]could[/i] leave him here with you if you like, to keep you company while I finish up here. Then we - all three of us - can catch up with my daughters. What do you say, sweet girl?”

Una did not need much more convincing, nodding her head happily as, in short order, a large puddle of happy, purring grey tabby was poured into her lap, his large gangly paws drooping limply over the girl’s slender legs and arms and shoulders alike. 

Hallerna ran her fingers affectionately over Una’s dark brown hair, refusing to allow the sudden, icy thrill of fear hold sway, visions of Eyja cradling this kitten in her mind’s eye. She took a deep breath, forcing the knowledge to the fore that Ragnar and his men would be there imminently, and Svala and the young raider who followed after her. All would be well. Gods be kind - all [i]must[/i] be well. 

Hallerna let loose that breath as she turned to survey the remnants of the once completely chaotic scene, now turned only slightly less. Loker’s men and the slaves who remained still rushed to extinguish the fires, while the majority of the walking wounded had already moved toward shelter. Hallerna availed herself to the few who remained, weakly leaning against walls or posts that were not set ablaze. 

She found little regard in the eyes of those she tried to help, at least as little as the seidrmadr, considering - she supposed - she was the mad woman who hurled mortal insults at a powerful man whilst surrounded by his armed and armored soldiers. But these were the few too injured to move on their own and, with the seidrmadr and the monk gone, there was precious little choice left to them, whether they would take her help or not.

Faolan watched it all unfold, his dark green eyes catching the fire light and they flickered with animosity as Harald foolishly set fire to the healing house. The draugr had been routed, killed as much as they could be, there was no reason to do such a thing. Including throwing the little girl back in. He could do it and get away with it, that was enough reason for a man like him. Perhaps not for long, he thought. 

The Irish thrall melted into the shadows as chaos erupted, all but forgotten as his master showed up and confronted Harald. He thought for sure the two sides would finally clash, in a way he hoped they would to ease the tension the fort felt as the two strong men barked at each other. Then they were gone and the fire was raging, the monk dashing into the flames as if to confront Satan himself and emerging with two living souls. Well, one anyway as he watched the crying child handed off to Hallerna's capable hands and the body of the Pict slave dragged out. Stupid bastard, he grimaced, he should have never ran in. What did they owe these people? He snorted and pushed back the thought he would have likely done the same for Dagny. She was just a child, like this girl, and who sired her was not her fault. 

He emerged from the shadows, helping Tora to where Hallerna waited with the injured girl, and grabbed a bucket as Loker barked orders, it was the least he could do if he was not allowed to put an arrow through Harald's neck. Faolan jogged back and forth, fighting not to slip in the icey slush around the stream. At one pass, his sharp eyes spotted small footprints intermingled with larger ones, wearing heavy soled boots rather than the softer Viking leathers. He took a moment to look it over, why it struck him as odd he was not sure but it had occurred recently as the footprints were not marred by the running men or by the new snow that was starting to fall. He noted the smaller prints ran off in the direction of the rear of the fort, close to where he knew the Christians were staying. He eyed it thoughtfully and glanced up at the thick smoke, snatching the bucket to run back.

Loker had left his aventail helm behind in the snow and was sweating as he grabbed up bucket after bucket brought by slaves and warriors. His long reach helped douse the higher flames and he ignored the thick smoke that enveloped him. The housekarl was grateful when he saw the snowflakes spinning down, hissing as they touched the smoldering wood. Thor was with them, he thought as he set down the last bucket, the flames finally dead. He stared at the blackened carcass of the longhouse before turning to Hallerna. He went to her, watching her handle the little girl who had been so callously treated. 

"I made an oath to a little redhead that I aim to fulfill," he said, his voice coarse and gravelly from the smoke and he smothered a cough. "Hallerna, you've done well here, thank you for staying. Even if these thick headed folk cannot see what good you and Vigi have done, I am grateful."

He stood close to her, his face tired and lined with worry but he managed a brief smile for Una who stared up at him with fear. His big hand pet the kitten and then brushed her soft dark hair in a calm reassurance but said nothing more. The girl had been through enough and the sight of another warrior was likely to make her more nervous than anything else. 

Loker called his second in command and coughed until he was hoarse, the simple shout had taken the wind from him. He grimaced and coughed up black tinged phlegm. He ordered the man to see everyone that could walk brought up to the Hall, they would be treated there and inspected for bite wounds. The rest of his men he dispatched to check the village for wounded or any stray draugr.

He wanted to take assessment of where the people stood, both in health and politically. Most of the people were residents of Trelleborg and would likely follow Loker but many were refugees of outlying villages and farms. They were the ones that were the unknown element. 

The housekarl rubbed his beard as the man left to do his bidding, the iron and copper rings jingled softly and his gaze once more found Hallerna who was still there. His eyes moved over her solemn face, she was a strong and fine looking woman. Her golden hair was darkened with soot and her eyes filled with more care and worry than he wished to see there. Loker found himself walking back to her and his big hand cupped her cheek without thinking and he wiped away a particularly dark smudge. 

"I heard you speak out against Harald," he said quietly, his hand staying on her face unless she would move it, "That was dangerous, foolish… And completely justified. The man will not live out the winter, I can promise you that." 

He surprised himself as he spoke, perhaps it was the strain or weariness, Loker had always been circumspect with his words. But the thought of that mad dwarf bringing this woman and her girls any grief made him burn with anger and blood rage. His normal calm demeanor rankled at the thought and though he knew Ragnar itched to put a blade in the man's guts, Loker would have happily done it himself. 

Loker sighed and looked towards the wounded, the seidmadr and the monk leaving with the slave who would likely be dead by morning. His dark blue eyes turned back to Hallerna and his hand slipped to her shoulder, "Take the girl and go to the Hall, be with Svala and Eyja. We will finish sorting out things here. Gods be good, Ragnar will have things in hand up there with the draugr."

Hallerna started slightly when Loker unexpectedly lay his hand to her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing her skin tenderly. Yet the touch of the auburn-haired man felt so familiar, comfortable and surprisingly gentle, no matter the hard calluses of his palm that spoke to many years wrapped about the hilt of a sword. And though she knew she must look a sight, bedraggled and worn, there was a blessed breath of warm, calm reassurance in Loker’s touch. Hallerna did not push his hand away. 

Her own deep blue eyes searched Loker’s face as he spoke, surprised - yet pleased - by his approval for her words at Harald, and comforted by his promise that vile little man would not live to see another Spring. The smile that had begun to bloom when Loker pet Tore the kitten, and affectionately caressed little Una, grew wider still, a small spot of sunshine in this gloomy morning.

Yet with every choking, hacking cough, Hallerna’s brow furrowed deeper with concern for the auburn-haired giant of a man. Loker had been at the front of the fires alongside his men and the thralls, obviously breathing in great, thick gouts of black smoke from Harald’s fires - as if she needed yet another reason to despise that foul, cruel dwarf of a man! But in this moment, her worry for Loker easily smothered the fires of her rage, his weariness etched into a face far better suited to smiles and laughter.

“Well then, you will have to tell me this promise you made to Eyja, when we get back to the Hall,” she said quietly, gently, with just enough emphasis to make her intent plain. “Or perhaps you can share that tale along the way?”

“Some of these people already think me fool and worse for my words with Harald, but I will defy the Jarl’s housekarl himself when he sounds as you do now Loker. You have breathed far too much smoke and, in this dry winter air, that can do you no good. You need to fill your lungs with steam, steeped with herbs I know Freya has on hand, before the smoke settles to a cough you cannot shake.” Hallerna reached to her shoulder, her hand resting lightly over Loker’s with warm reassurance. 

“Yes, Ragnar will have things in hand, without a doubt,” Hallerna continued, praying to all the gods in her heart that this confidence would be truth. “And Svala and Ragnar’s young warrior will be there at the Hall too, well and sound together, and gather up Eyja. But as you said before, the more ‘thick-headed folk’ will not accept my help. Surely you would not be one of them?”

She laughed softly, giving the fingers of Loker’s hand a gentle squeeze before she let her own fall to her side once more. “Una and I will return to the Hall with you when you go. She will be content with Eyja’s worthless kitten for a time, and I may keep a watchful eye on one of the precious few people in this fort who might allow me to tend to his injuries.”