[i]((Collab between igraine, idlehands, roadrash, and constablewalrus))[/i]
Orran walked past the Danes speaking a curse in his pictish tongue at them and smiled; not caring the insult involved in it. And went towards the healing house doors; opening them and stepping inside the heads still clenched in his fist by the hair. And he inspected the room carefully seeing all accounted for; He approached the two mothers and dropped the heads at their feet.

“Four accounted, one scampered away…” And he kicked the head of Geir away from the others “Three are mine, and one is the girl’s… She should be proud taking down a full grown man.” He glanced at the two women his chest still bare and he was soaked to the bone. He rolled his shoulders “The children are safe.” and he gave a quick look towards Hallerna.

Hallerna smiled softly, adrenaline and relief still flooding her though a wave of incalculable gratitude threatened to overtake all those emotions. When the painted man had offered to watch her daughters to Sigrid’s house, she could have never in her most hellish imaginings have conjured up of this moment. “They are, Orran,” she said with a nod of her head, her eyes falling to the ground for a moment to linger over the heads before rising once more to the Pict’s face, the magnificent whorls of tattoos. “Thank you… I don’t… [i]Thank you Orran.”[/i] 

It was Eyja though, in all her child’s innocence, who gave fuller voice to the gratitude of their small family without a single word. After all she’d seen to this day, the horrors from her farm to the supposed safety of Trelleborg, the sight of the severed heads barely registered at all in her mind. It was her painted man with Geri and Freki come to life on his cheeks, who had promised to teach her to draw on real paper, who filled her world - and he was still alive! Thank all the gods, but he was still alive and returned like her big brother never did despite his promise! She let go of her mother’s skirt, running to wrap her arms tightly about Orran’s waist, eyes squeezed tight to keep back the tears that big girls shouldn’t ever shed.

Sigrid entered the healing house, picking up Dagny who ran to cling to her skirt. She raised an eyebrow at the tattooed Christian and nodded again, “Of course the children are safe now, they’re with their parents. And you have our gratitude. We will see you compensated for your bravery.” 

She kissed her daughter’s hair and for a moment her cool demeanor melted as she sat on the edge of Tora’s bed and her sons stood on either side of her. She murmured a prayer of thanks to Thor and Friga who guided the man’s sword to protect their children. She put her arms around them, squeezing them, and for once they did not squirm away embarrassed. 

The young mother held her brood and watched the Pict before she glanced at the monk who still held her slave’s hand. Tora looked even more pale as she listened to the events unfolding outside and saw the children so frightened. Her eyes kept darting to the door, anxiety clear on her bruised face. 

“Mistress,” she said softly through pained lips, “It was [i]him,[/i] wasn’t it? It was Harald.”

Her voice was strained and the underlying panic made the children tremble. Sigrid held them and Dagny clung to her as she replied to the thrall, “It is uncertain but likely. But Ragnar and his men are at the door with swords and...Orran here has his blade as well.” 

Orran looked down at the young girl with a smile, genuine and full, a smile not seen often from the Pict but the little girl had the knack of bringing it out of him. His hand reached down and patted her head gently. “I am very glad to see you are safe little one. When things get settled, I’ll show you how to draw those okay? Just don’t look at the things I brought in and keep your eyes on your mother.”

Eyja nodded her head enthusiastically, pale eyes shining with promise as her painted man turned toward her mother and her older sister. Orran bowed his head accepting the thanks from hallerna and wrest himself gently from the little girls grip; and he glanced at Svala with a smile “You mother must be proud of you Svala, you did fantastic. You should train with me sometime. Physical exercise is good, and we can work on some things. I’m very impressed.” 

Svala’s grip on her hard-won axe tightened just a little, the pleased grin on her lips about ready to split her face in half as his pretty words once again stole her words away. She could not know if Orran’s promised offer was true or no, but the attentions and kindness nearly overwhelmed the young woman.

Orran rolled his shoulders and walked past the heads towards the monk and Sigrid’s family; he moved past them and stood beside Anndrais. 

They spoke in the Gaelic tongue to keep the close Danes out of the conversation “So, you are back then…” Anndrais spoke pointedly, and kept his eyes down at Tora patting her hand. Orran huffed “Of course, you did not expect me dead did you? The children are safe and so am I.” 

Anndrais sighed and looked up at him with a smile “I’m glad you are alright, so very very glad my friend… Prayer does wonders.” He chuckled slightly putting his gaze back downward to Tora; and Orran simply nodded “Well, I’ll be outside… Keep an eye on the children, and the poor girl.” Anndrais nodded “And you keep your eye on yourself around the Ragnarsson.” 

Orran nodded and walked back towards the front door, glancing at the children in Sigrid’s arms and gave them a nod; as he strode to the door he eyed Hallerna closely, his eyes lingering on her golden hair before making it towards the door and exiting back into the dusk.

“Eyja, come away sweetling,” Hallerna called gently, Orran’s bold gaze not lost on her in the least, and she chuckled softly under her breath, one eyebrow raised curiously. She wrapped her arm around her youngest girl’s thin shoulders, beckoning Svala closer as well, eyeing her eldest from head to toe, still not completely convinced in her mother’s heart that all the blood really did belong to the dead man.

“I’m going to join Orran and the men outsi- … Svala, stop. There’s nothing to argue about now. You’re not the only one with an axe, little Swallow. Eyja, fetch me that bowl of water… There, that’s my good girl.”

Hallerna pulled her daughter to one of the few open benches nearby, tenderly prying her daughter’s fingers from around the axe handle, setting it to the side. She winced as she looked at the deep gouges in Svala’s palm, a long sigh escaping her lips. “An axe didn’t do this,” she said finally.

“No, it was the seax… I… That’s what I had to use to… “ Svala glanced up at her mother from beneath long, golden eyelashes, before she spoke again. “He said he was going to… He said he was going to make you a [i]whore.[/i] That if I wasn’t ‘nice,’ he was going to give you to- “

“Shhh… Don’t fret little Swallow,” Hallerna whispered tenderly, her fingers tucking a stray lock of hair stiff with mud and blood back behind her daughter’s ear. “He won’t be doing [i]anything[/i] wicked, ever again. [i]You[/i] saw to that, and I am proud of you Svala. So very, [i]very[/i] proud… “ Hallerna’s voice trailed off for a moment, studying the face of the woman her daughter had become. Love and concern in equal parts were writ large across own face, and she wished for perhaps the thousandth time this very day that Sven still lived, the man who’d been her love and her shield from the time she was Svala’s age.

A small breath of a laugh escaped as Eyja approached, oh-so-carefully balancing that basin of water in her two small hands, and Hallerna helped her set it to the ground beside them as she stood. “Well done sweetling, and here… “ Hallerna handed the little girl some of the precious bandages left by the seidrmadr, sure that Vigi would not mind so much the use she put them to. 

“Help your sister clean up as best you can, and be sure to dress the cuts on her palm,” she instructed her youngest daughter, delighting in the proud light that shone in Eyja’s pale eyes. “I’ll be right outside the door.” Hallerna stooped to kiss both girls on the forehead before taking up her own axe, the woodsman’s blade leaning against the healing house hall and following Orran into the failing light behind the Thegn and his men. She lifted her chin proudly, dark blue eyes scanning the road ahead of them for whatever might come. She was [i]still[/i] the head of her own family, however small and broken it might be.