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1 hr ago
Current huh
4 hrs ago
she shows me her butt, so that i can say ''it's 2024 we dont goon to still pictures anymore''. that's deep. toes in my mouth. toes with the french tips. white toes, baby blue toes. you name it.
5 hrs ago
AND I ALWAYS FIND YEAH I ALWAYS FIND SOMETHING WRONG!!! YOU BEEN PUTTING UP WITH MY SHIT JUST WAY TOO LONG!!
1 like
1 day ago
GUYS YOU CAN'T USE THE STATUS BAR AS A CHAT DUDE
1 like
1 day ago
you mean you've been exiled... that's badass
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Bio

Just an Aragorn looking for his Arwen


Most Recent Posts

@SleepingSilence it's because your posts are all riddled with grammatical and spelling errors where as theirs aren't

inb4 'i don't care this isn't the ic'
Most annoyances are things that the people find faults in. With this one I know the fault is with me, but that makes it even more annoying.

An RP I'd like to join but there are 100 posts, they're all five paragraphs at the minimum, and nobody is remotely interested in giving me a recap either out of laziness or an expectaion for me to catch up myself. I have college. I don't have a free week to marathon all your posts.

Also if there's a well-built world but it's *too* well-built and you're expected to read eleven thousand word essays on the social, economic and political systems of the world you're in, etc.


sounds like the solution is to scale down and join a less extensive rp

lol

If you care about an RP, you will read the preceding posts. Full stop.


it's not an objective requirement

like

if i join an rp when a new plot arises and i have a good reason to make my character oblivious to previous events i don't need to do jack shit.

<Snipped quote by Grim>

But it does look fucking absurd, when it only selectively happens when dozens upon dozens make the same point, without a peep from any opposition. Even worse when the ones pretending to care enough that they have an issue, complain about the exact same things. (and honestly, the thread isn't for, bitching out certain individuals, or to snidely yell at others frustrations.) Not saying you're doing so in this case, just for clarity sake.


does it look fucking absurd or do you think it looks fucking absurd? i've never seen anyone make the same point either and the fact that you consider there to be an opposition infers that there are 'sides' to this story when there clearly are not
<Snipped quote by Odin>

Ultimately why I'm here. Hopefully this goes through? Eventually?

For now I'm making the best of the Test Forum.


I'd say I hope so but I am also kind of familiar with the RPG development track at this point so if I may offer kind advice - don't hold your breath because you have less oxygen capacity than RPG has development hiatuses.
@Exit then I'm afraid there's no options at the moment.
@SleepingSilence I really don't like indie music - not because it sounds terrible but because it all sounds the exact same.

Overall I think this track is a little too quiet, but overall not bad. It's very melodic which I like - I'll give them that, they're pretty good at harmonizing. The vocals flow together with the instruments well too, which is a plus. But I just can't get over the fact that, to me, this sounds the exact same as literally any other indie band out there. (Hyperbole, before you ask.)

I guess I don't mind the music if it were on the radio but I'd never go out of my way to find it (or any music like this for that matter).

@Ruby requires mahz to come online so good luck lol

@Odin Didn't really think about making a shared account. That may be a good idea but at least for now I'd like to stay with the one I have.

@Ruby I don't see a reason? But maybe someone else will. The Test Forum right now is just a single tab thread and I imagine adding a couple more could only help.

Also thanks for looking into this!


To be honest I'd probably just go with option c: make an RP thread for it, work on it in the 0th post, and turn it from 'closed' to 'apply' when you're ready.
Hello everyone. I simply came to here to learn how to play Mutants and Masterminds 3rd edition. I've already built a my own Superman at Power level 10. If someone is willing, I would love to learn how to play and learn.


This is the link to the subforum ms. Amalthea was talking about.
That cold night had taken its' toll not only on Najla, but also on Ketill. He laid there, huddled under a set of furs, his eyes closed but his mind working at full power. For hours on end now he had felt uneasy - an uncomfortable feeling, something similar to what he'd felt before during visions but this time, much darker, more brooding. Were the forces of Hél arriving to unleash the Worlds End? The sound of metal scraping against the floor could be heard, though neither Najla nor Basim was awake at that time to hear it. Someone else, however, was. When the feeling became too much, Ketill would slowly open his eyes, looking in the direction of Basim. Where any man would have been startled, and screamed, Ketill kept his peace, even when he stared directly in this monsters' eyes. What it was he could not tell - it resembled nothing like any of the creatures from Audrun's sagas. It was tall, hunched and it seemed clad in shadow. It almost seemed like it wore the shadow or darkness as a cloak, manipulating it to hide itself from all but the most discerning eye. And now, it was hunched over Basim.

Ketill's grip on the axe tightened, though he had no intent to get up and fight this beast. Bear or not, he was no match for the supernatural. But close his eyes and go back to sleep? That was something he could not do either. Slowly his breaths slowed down, either from paralysis or fear. But then Najla got up, and in that brief moment where Ketill's eyes moved to see Najla, the figure disappeared. Najla moved to the door, and Ketill's eyes remained locked onto her, unable to move, the axe still close to his body. She felt it too? After a brief moment, where Najla opened the door, spoke some words, and then closed the door.

When Najla turned to the point where she could see Ketill, he closed his eyes quickly. There was no reason for her to know what he'd seen or that he was awake - rather, she focused her attention on Basim, who seemed to have awoken when Najla moved around. Though the creature was gone now, Ketill would not find sleep nor rest that night.




Ketill held up a dried root to his mouth while he listened to Najla and Basim go back and forth. He pushed it into his mouth and chewed on it, slowly, while Najla voiced her concerns. Typically he'd have told her to keep it to herself, but he could no longer command her in that way, and since she was living there now, it'd feel dishonest to ignore her feelings - trivial as they may have seemed to him. She did not think he was a fool - that much was certain - so she was only stating her feelings to make them clear, not to give him advice. She spoke of trust and Ketill did not react, though he disagreed with her. He did not trust them, but he needed them. They were manpower that they did not have before. While these men hunted or farmed, he could tend to other things. It was that simple in essence - but would it work out that way, that was the question. Ketill had been gone for so long in these regions that he could scarcely remember how to ensure loyalty from these men. But that did not mean he did not have an idea.

“You should know before anyone else, Najla,” he responded to her notion that it was not the strength of his decisions that would determine the outcome in this situation, continuing swiftly as he removed the root from his mouth, “Djinn's do not sleep. If you are afraid of a dagger across your throat in the middle of the night, rest easy.” His mouth curled into a grin - not the humorous kind, but the kind that was intended to mock or show off some personal enjoyment out of what was said. “I'd rather die to a sword or knife - fast and with honor - than starving to death in the winter because our farmland did not have enough hands to produce enough food. I do not expect a sultana like yourself to know, but starving is very... very slow. And painful.” He extended his hand and made a claw-like gesture, gripping the air and slowly pulling it out towards him. He was mimicking something, clearly. “Like a bear pulling out your innards one inch a day.”

The entire situation was a simple equation, one that both Najla and Basim could understand - especially because someone simple like Ketill understood it. Whether they took these people in or not, sooner or later they'd have to gather more people. Either that or.. start a family. With that thought Ketill glanced at Najla, but pushed that thought away quickly. No, taking people in would be easier. Besides, it wasn't like these people were going to live on his lands for free. That much was understood, whether it was said or not. But that raised a whole other set of problems.




When the men returned they did so with a bountiful amount of meat. At the very least they could be sure that they weren't freeloaders or amateurs. These men had survived the winters so far, perhaps by going to Broacien, but they had also picked up the northern skills. A valuable asset, especially in the time period to come. They also brought with them the partial solution to the new 'problem' Ketill had found. Farming in the heath would be time consuming, as they'd have to clear the heath and with the ground still hard, that would prove to be a problem. Furthermore, the lack of water would also prove to be problematic - although not a farmer, Ketill had been in Broacien for most of his life, and any Broacienien can tell you exactly what you need to farm. It was their lifeline, after all.

“We found a suitable place to live,” Grettir, the leader, told him. “Not too far away - with a river, and also plenty of forest to cut down for the houses.”

Ketill had originally intended to just build a new house next to the old one, and use that new house himself alongside Basim and Najla, but the thought of such a location was a bit too enticing to pass up on without investigation. He nodded at Grettir, and gestured to Basim and Najla. “Your brother and friend can stay with them for now, you and me will go see this location.”

Grettir nodded at this and gestured to his own companions while Ketill went to get his bearcloak. Although he was far from it, in his mind he had already established himself as the leader of these regions - not that there were any peasants to defer to him as such. One could call Ketill many things, but for once he had a long term plan in his head now. And that plan included gathering land, men, boats and weaponry.

As he gathered his items, he briefly went by the stash the three men had brought along from Broacien. Without glancing back, and with no second thoughts, he pulled an item from the stash, before walking along to Najla and Basim.

While he gathered his items, he also kneeled close to Najla and Basim. Without saying anything he clandestinely passed along his seax to Najla. He was sure there were some questions as to how he obtained it, but those would have to wait. These knives were a staple tool in Broacien, but a valuable commodity in the North, where iron and steel tools were rare. Whether Najla or Basim had seen him take it, he didn't know, but he simply raised his finger to his mouth to shush them. “Hide it,” he urged her, though he also knew she didn't need to be told twice. After that, he rose to his feet and looked over at Grettir. “Ready.”

The two of them moved out and made their way to this location, which would be a long walk away. An hour was relatively 'short' for the north, however, so Ketill knew not to complain. During the trip, the two conversed idly to keep themselves occupied, stopping briefly to look at some tracks, before continuing on their way.

“What are your plans?” Grettir asked, causing Ketill to pause a moment as he glanced to the right, away from Grettir. Ketill wasn't sure about the man yet, and he knew better than to give away the details of his plans to everyone. However, it would also set bad blood by keeping the men in the dark, especially the leader of this 'pack.'

“For now I wish to build a home. Some place that isn't just a house, but is mine. Stake a claim, that sort of thing.”

Grettir nodded at this, prodding at the snow underneath his feet with a stick he found on the way. “When we met, you said you fought for this land. I won't stake a claim here out of respect for your battle - and also, because I know I can't fight you.”

“Much appreciated,” was the only reply Ketill could come up with then. He wasn't sure what the man was going for or trying to say. A brief pause followed, until the man continued.

“As we live on your land, I suppose that makes you our 'chief.' I don't know about the others, but I've never lived under a chief before. Always been a free man, myself.” Grettir paused briefly, a mist coming from his nose as he breathed out. “I suppose that also means that you will give us orders now. I have nothing against that. As long as you are fair.”

Ketill's face remained stoic, as if he'd already seen this coming, or already knew the answers. “That is for Audrun to decide,” he began. He was clearly a very loyal man, first to the Monarch, and now to the Old Gods. Maybe the same could be said for his companions and followers - maybe. “I am not one to take away your freedom. If you decide tomorrow that you will leave, I won't stop you. And if I need your council I will seek it.”

“Very well, chief,” Grettir answered, face still as solemn as when he started the conversation. “We're here.”



Not a word had been lied about the area - it was suitable as could be. Ketill had to look around briefly, checking the soil mostly, and noted that it was fertile and easy to work with. However, it wasn't exactly Broacienien soil - plentiful, that is. It came in small patches, the rest of the soil was average at best. However, there was ample clay near the river, which was always useful. The location was kind of impressive, really. Much better than their current location, and if Ketill managed to get a powerbase, there was lots of space for expansion.

Upon the low hill in front of him, that's where he'd build his house. So, then it was decided - they would go here together to build the new house. And then they'd build the house for the others.

The journey back to the homestead was much more lively, as Grettir felt more inclined to converse with Ketill about the future mostly, and Ketill was more willing to indulge him, if only to keep him content.




During the time Ketill and Grettir spent away from the homestead, one of the two men that stayed behind had taken to preparing food. For once it seemed neither Najla nor Basim would be forced to do it - either a good or bad thing, depending on your view on the matter. It left them with free time to do something, but the truth was becoming more and more plainly visible - there was not much to do. Unlike the sultanate, it wasn't possible to indulge in the usage of mind altering herbs, or drinking alcohol. Ultimately the boredom proved to be too much for Basim, as he got up and went to help the man with the cooking.

Although interactions were minimal, they were friendly enough. The man mostly asked questions about the sultanate, although it seemed more like he thought Basim was lying, and that he was simply indulging into Basim's made up fantasy story. It made sense, though. For many northerners, even the existence of Broacien was a half-myth. The fact that there was a land with no water and only sand was hard to believe, let alone that people lived there. “And these horses with two bumps on their back, you ride them into battle?”

“Sometimes. Mostly they are for the caravanserai.”

“The ca-ra-van-serai..?”

“It's like a marketplace, but bigger, and its' used to trade with other cities, not just your own city.”

“Right, right. You expect me to believe that there are places where everyone lives together, in a small area, and the owner of that land is okay with that?”

“Well, he is okay with that because he levies a tax. And they are his citizens, and he is their ruler.”

“.. taxes?”

“They... pay him money, or other goods. Some families give him a sheep, or a horse, or multiple.”

“Ah! So like a tribute!”

“I suppose you could say that - though, its' more the tribes that pay a tribute.”

“There are sand-tribes?”

“Quite a few. Ketill himself has seen them, and fought against them. You can ask him.”

Grettirs' brother Arngeir had been the one conversing with Basim, but at the mention of Ketill, it was not Arngeir, but Hádski who piped up and replied. The man had been busy carving out a long stick into a sharpened stake - for a pitfall trap, but neither Basim nor Najla would be expected to know that - and with a firm and strong pull he carved out a long piece of wood from the end. It seemed the mere mention of Ketill bothered him. “Oh, he did, did he?”

Arngeir glanced at the man, before looking back at Basim. “Just ignore him,” he remarked, passing some of the meat to the boy. “He's got a temper. He's got something against those from Broacien. Thinks Ketill is more Broacienien than Northern. As far as I'm concerned, it's your blood that determines where you are from, not where you live.”

“I see,” Basim replied, carefully glancing at Hádski before looking back to his cooking. “Well, anyway, yes, he did fight them. Once while I was there, and I suppose before that as well.”

As if on cue, the conversation was cut short when Ketill and Grettir entered the home again. They'd been gone for a while, and it seemed they had taken their time too. Supposedly that was part of the Northern life as well, since everything happened slowly and deliberately.

That same night, when gathered around the fire to eat, they would discuss the future plans. Ketill took the forefront, laying out his plans so that everyone knew what to do. As the 'chief' it was sort of expected of him, although Najla and Basim would surely not see him as a chief - at least, he thought so.

“There's a hill there, which I want to use for my house. The location is suitable enough, and the raised nature of the hill gives it a good defensible position. But besides that, the land behind it is fertile.”

“Defensible..? Against what?” Arngeir asked, raising a root to his mouth immediately after to chew on it while listening to the explanation.

“Right, you've been to Broacien, so you have seen at the very least the large stone castle. I want something like that - it'll be impossible to have a stone castle, obviously, but one of wood should be doable. Not quite as large. Just a fortified longhouse. The hill would make it harder to climb up, and it will allow us to shoot down with bows and to throw stones and javelins if we need to.”

“Right, but who in this area would even be bothered? Nobody lives here for hours on end,” the man continued. His logic was sort of sound, but Ketill knew from his own experience that 'new' power in a region typically attracted more than a bit of unwanted attention.

“Raiders, chiefs, anyone. More people live here than you'd think - remember that the man who lived here originally managed to get friends together within a day or so, so clearly there are more people around here. It might seem long on foot, but with a horse, who knows?”

Arngeir nodded at this, and Grettir seemed satisfied too. But Hádski seemed bothered at it all. “Right, so you get your new house, what about us?”

“What do you mean 'us?'” Grettir interrupted, his eyes fiercely on Hádski. Ketill knew better than to stop them now. He'd sensed some hostility from Hádski before, but hadn't said anything about it - neither had Grettir or Arngeir, possibly hoping that Hádski would settle down. But it seemed that Hádski had more than a few grievances. “You can have your own house - me and Arngeir will live together, and you can live on your own. Isn't that what you wanted? A place for yourself?”

“And who are you to decide? Weren't you, Arngeir, the one who said we'd defer to Ketill? I thought you'd given up your leadership, but here we are, listening to some Broacienien swi-”

“Hold your tongue, Hádski. That's no way to speak about our chief. Continue and I'll be forced to invoke holmgang..” Grettir seemed certain of his choice, and the threat of holmgang seemed enough to stave off Hádski's insults, but not his critique.

“Fine, I'll live on my own. But I never swore an oath to this.. Ketill. As far as I'm concerned, I'm a karl, a free man. I'll do as I please.”

Now it was time for Ketill to finally speak up, his voice strong as ever. Unsurprising to Najla and Basim perhaps, he spoke in that fashion which he had used against them before - full of conviction, with something that said it was either his way or no way at all. “I never said you weren't free. I told Grettir the same - if you decide to leave tomorrow I will not stop you. If you stay, I expect you to pull your weight. Nothing more and nothing less. Whether you live with Grettir and Arngeir or alone is up to you, but for the sake of efficiency, we will still end up sharing a house for a while.”

“Right,” Hádski begrudgingly answered, seemingly having given up his chase of confrontation and being content with what little he had achieved here. At the very least he'd made it clear where he stood specifically. And so had Grettir. Arngeir seemed caught in the middle - he resembled Basim in that same way, not being able to pick a side, though ultimately it was only natural that Arngeir would side with his brother. Anything other than that would be like betraying your own blood.

“And, what about our roles?” Grettir asked, poking the fire with a half burnt stick.

“We just do what it takes. First, we should get a house up. After that, I suppose I'll work on the farm - I've spent enough time in Broacien to know how it works, give or take.” Ketill's eyes glanced over Hádski momentarily, wondering whether he should ask him to teach Basim to hunt, but that seemed like a bad idea. It was an accident waiting to happen, so he turned to Arngeir instead. “If you have time, please take Basim hunting. I taught him the basics of how to track animals, but he needs to learn how to shoot a bow too.”

Arngeir nodded at this. He was a capable hunter, perhaps not as good as Hádski, but more than good enough to help Basim on his way. Hunting with a bow was either something you could, or couldn't do. It was now time to see if Basim was capable beyond the basics.

“Then it's settled,” was all Ketill had to say in conclusion.




It took them a week to fell the trees they needed to clear the area, an additional week to gather more logs, and then two weeks of labor to put it all together. In the end, the house was ready - it was similar in style to the former home - but larger and with separated rooms. The woodwork was simple for now, but they could easily improve it later, when they found a craftsman. After all, neither Ketill, nor Grettir, nor Arngeir was a skilled woodcarver, and even if Hádski had been, there was no way he would've helped them. The house was carefully built up from a set of wooden pillars they'd driven into the ground - this was the most backbreaking and intensive work, because the poles had to be set into the ground to provide any sort of strength to the longhall. The one thing that set it apart from the old house was that they gave the building a wooden floor - if not for comfort then for the sake of preserving the warmth of the fire.

The house consisted of a large entry hall, with a stone firepit in the center. Ketill was rather proud of it, for he had meticulously measured it out three to four times before digging the first moat that would later become the pit. It was about five meters long and exactly one meter wide. However, it wasn't meant for cooking - more so illumination and comfort in the winter and during feasts. The wooden flooring merged almost seamlessly with the stone pit precisely because he had measured it out so carefully. Even if he wasn't a craftsman or a builder, it could not be said that he was an expert amateur. From the pit there would be about three meters to the wall, giving ample space to put benches and tables later. For now, it was empty space, as they'd had no time to build furniture yet.

On the far side of the hall was a small alcove, with empty space. The space was about a meter deep and four meters wide, though there were two pillars constructed there to hold up the roof. In the alcove Ketill intended to build a raised platform for his throne, and a potential other throne. However, for now the space remained empty.

To the left of the hall would be a door leading to a five by three room - later, the guest room would be constructed here. For now, it was used as a temporary storage for any items they had brought over from the old homestead. Further down the hall, a second door led to the makeshift kitchen, which had a pantry attached to it for convenience. Although it remained empty for now, it was clear that the rooms had been carefully planned.

On the right side would be a door in the middle of the wall, which led to a hallway that was host to the various rooms that were needed. Najla and Basim each had received a private bedroom, which was a definitive step up from the communal 'rooms' they had before, which were barely rooms at all. The wicker woven walls had been exchanged for real, hard wood walls.

The outcropping that was the hallway also led to a rather natural location for a farm. In the corner outside between the hallway and the main hall, Ketill had begun a farm plot that he deemed large enough for those living with him, and then some. Although it wasn't for a lack of space that he couldn't do anything with it yet - more so, a lack of seeds. The limited amount of foods the three men had brought down from Broacien with them offered enough to build a meagre farm with for now, using leftover rye, oats, some cabbage and even leeks and turnips. And although it was neither the luxurious foods from the Sultanate nor the large amounts from Broacien, it would do its' job of getting them through the winter.

Hádski had already gotten to work on his own home, foregoing to help of the others. He decided to dig out a rather shallow home for himself in a small hill near the forest. It was certainly smart, Ketill had to admit that - it meant a lack of work for him, since he just had to dig it out, build it up with wood, and then throw the earth back onto the roof. It was excellently insulated, which provided him with warmth during the winter. Admittedly a design like that would've been impossible for Ketill, since there were too many people he needed to host.



The man continued to isolate himself, often taking off to hunt on his own, sharing the meat only because he had to and not so much because he wanted to. It was not quite a problem yet but Ketill knew that at some point it would be a problem.

The brothers Osmundrson however had become great helps, with Arngeir frequently taking Basim hunting. Whatever labour was lost because of Basim's absence was made up for by Grettir, who seemed more than eager to help Ketill. Together they worked on the farm, and began construction of the house for the two brothers. They needed a much smaller design and so, it would not take more than two weeks to construct the basics. For a lack of nails, they simply had to use northern woodcarving methods to construct the houses - truthfully it was hard labour, but it paid off, as the houses were just as strong if not stronger than those built with nails. Ketill had not known this technique, but after Grettir had shown him, picked it up rather quickly. Making the logs interlock was rather clever, and also meant minimal work in terms of upkeep.

As for Najla, Ketill left her to her own devices as much as possible. Although he wasn't hateful to her, he still only barely managed to tolerate her presence. He kept a careful eye on her whenever he needed to, as he was afraid she'd simply fall back into her lazy attitude, but this seemed unwarranted for the most part. For the most part, now that the work was picking up, she would be left on her own for a lot of the time.




It would be three months total before the work had been completely finished for only the homes - with both Ketill's long hall completed, the Osmundrson brothers home, as well as Hádski's small shack. The farm was doing well enough, and Ketill had even managed to get Najla to do some work in it - whether it was willingly or because of him ordering her, he wasn't sure. The pantry was well stocked, and for once Ketill had no reason to worry about the winter.

Ketill was about to work on a new bed, to replace the makeshift stack of furs he'd been sleeping on, when excited yells from outside alerted him. “Ketill! Ketill!” the voice yelled, though the distance and walls prevented him from hearing who exactly it was. He held on tightly to his axe as he moved to get outside, and as he got closer, he realized it was in fact Basim yelling out to him. Close behind him was Arngeir, who had taken Basim hunting for the fourth time this week. There was no rush in Arngeirs walk, so Ketill realized that nothing dangerous was happening. Closely behind Arngeir walked a third figure - one that he didn't recognize. A newcomer? “Ketill, we met someone while we were hunting. We went to some new location to check for tracks, and stumbled upon him there at a river. He says he's a craftsman!”

“I see, good job then,” Ketill replied, still warily looking the man up and down. But even the extra attention was unwarranted. The man was old, too old to pose any real danger right now. “Heill og sæll, what brings you here?” Ketill asked the man as he came closer, his mind already wondering whether the man wanted to trade or live here.

“Heill og sæll,” the older man replied, extending a hand to Ketill, who took it and shook it firmly. All the commotion drew out Grettir, who had been working on the inside of his home. “Your friends here told me you were building a village.”

“You could say that, yes. Why, are you interested?”

“I am, though I must admit it has been a long time since I have lived close to anyone but my wife. Our last neighbors were taken by a band of raiders, and ever since then I've not heard of a soul.”

“A nasty fate that is,” Ketill answered, “though the Gods favored you for allowing you to remain unharmed.”

“Indeed, it is so. I haven't much to offer to your village I'm afraid - I'm not wealthy, nor do I have a large family to provide hands for your farm there. But I can carve wood, and I know my way around a hammer and saw.”

“That's good - I can neither carve wood nor am I exceptionally proficient with a hammer and saw. You said you have a wife - no children?”

The older man smiled at that and shook his head - no children. “Me and her are quiet folk, we don't like to have too much company, but I'm afraid I'm getting older and if I die, there won't be anyone to take care of her. I'm afraid children were never destined for us - it seems the gods had different plans for us. We live a ways to the north, if you follow the river it should not be more than a half-day travel.”

Ketill nodded at him, then gestured to Grettir. “Go with him and help him carry whatever he needs to take here. He can sleep in my house while we build a new house,” he ordered, and Grettir gave a firm nod before stepping over to the old man. Ketill then looked over his shoulder towards the farm, hoping to find Najla there. He called out to her if he had to so that she knew she was required. “Najla, prepare some furs in the main hall - two sets to sleep on would be enough. Basim, you make some space in the storage area for his items. I'll go and see where we can build this new house.”

And so, they added another face to their growing village. It would be late after sundown when the two newcomers arrived alongside Grettir. They gratefully took their space and loaded off their items quickly - mostly tools for the mans' carpenting work.



The addition of a carpenter made work all the more easy - besides a supply of nails the man had salvaged from his home, he was also far more proficient at carpentry and as such, was much quicker when it came to making furniture. Within two weeks he was able to fill Ketill's house with furniture - a very large bed for Ketill, and two decent sized beds for Najla and Basim each. Each of them also had a set of shelves made to store items in - not that there were many items to store yet - and a table with two chairs each.

During these two weeks Ketill would get Arngeir and Grettir to work on the mans' new house, which was halfway its' completion when Ketill and the carpenter got started on his alcove. The raised platform was easy to make, but the throne would prove to be much harder. The carpenter's skill was not in question, but in order to make something worthy of a chief, he'd need at least more time - to find the right wood, etcetera. At least, so the man claimed.

The carpenters' wife had been helping in the farm, as well as assisting her husband. She primarily occupied herself with tasks that Najla was also performing, so it was only natural that she was often around Najla, whether it was during the time spent on the farm, or cooking.

Although it went rather awkwardly at first, the woman was quick to introduce herself. “I'm Síf,” she told Najla while emptying a wooden bucket of water over the farm, spreading it as much as needed. “Since we'll be staying here, I suppose it'd be good if the two women here got along - I suppose having been with the men for so long must've been... interesting.” It was clear from the tone that the woman still wasn't quite sure about living in this place, perhaps because she wasn't sure if she could trust these people.


It was a pleasant surprise to return and see that Basim had taken the duty of cooking off her shoulders for once, though he would not tell her why. He had mentioned that Ketill had asked him to, at which Najla smiled, realizing that he’d grown just as sick of her lack of skills as she was. However, why he had agreed, or why Ketill had asked him to, these were reasons he kept to himself, and Najla did not press for them. It was strange, that her brother was not eager to share any information he’d received, but she would not push him to do so. Rather, she took over the task of spinning the plant fibers into cord again. It was a tedious task, and did little to keep her mind occupied as she did so. It was for this reason that she found the break to listen to Ketill’s stories, though normally, she did not care too much for what he had to say. It was better than nothing, after all.

It did not take long into Ketill’s explanation for Najla to realize he was talking about her. After all, he’d said much the same words before allowing her back into the house, though in quite a different tone. Now, he was speaking as if he was telling an old story, passing wisdom through generations. It was a tone she was far more familiar with, though never from men like Ketill. Despite all their books, the women of the Sultanate spoke in much the same way, passing legends and song through the generations. Yet even though his tone was far different, the words seemed much the same, and Najla felt as if she could feel his tight grip on her arm again, warning her there wouldn’t be another chance.

Therefore, when she caught Basim glancing her way, Najla returned his gaze without blinking. She did not need to pretend that this ‘lesson’ was not meant for her, that much had been made quite clear some time ago. It was certainly a harsh change from the life she’d been accustomed to, but a change that she could adapt to, or would, regardless of how she felt about it. If not for her own sake, then for her brother’s, who would be left with no one if she were to allow herself to be thrown out to the snow again. The work itself was duller than she was used to, and though Najla did not believe she’d ever grow accustomed to the mind-numbing work of scrubbing pots and washing clothes, it did not seem to matter. She would never be allowed to return to her old life regardless.

Though Ketill’s knowledge had already been imparted on her, however harshly, Najla seemed surprised at the notion that they had no books here. She’d seen the runes before, would likely never forget how that boy had drawn one upon his chest before giving himself as a sacrifice to a God she did not know. But to realize that these were truly all the had was a strange sentiment. Though Basim had not expressed any disappointment regarding this notion, Najla knew he would find it later, when he inevitably tried to learn more about these strange people. Perhaps he’d learn to decipher the runes, one day. She was not given long to wonder about that possibility before Ketill’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and her eyes met his over that fire once more.

“You’ve got to be mad.”

It did not take long for Najla to give her opinion on the matter, realizing quickly what Ketill intended to do. What sort of fool thrust himself into a bears path? Had he not learned from what he’d done to her, how could he believe he could withstand a bear when she had not been able to keep the Daab back? Even Basim sat up rather quickly to voice his concerns, though not as steadfastly as Najla did now.

“I have put myself before a bear before, I will not do so again. Never.”




She could not believe she had ever agreed to this plan. It had not taken Basim as long to agree to it, for once he had seen the plan and thought it through, he seemed to believe it would work. Najla was not quite so optimistic. Even after Basim had agreed to the plan, Najla had not been swayed, even though she usually placed a great deal of trust in his intelligence. Then, she’d questioned the necessity of the bait, wondering why the meat itself wouldn’t be enough. When her brother had finally managed to convince her that the bear would have to charge for Ketill to have a chance, Najla moved to Ketill himself, wondering if he would bother standing when the bear came running for her. Regardless of all her doubts, it had taken little more than Basim volunteering to do the job himself. Though she struggled against that too, it seemed her brother had placed his faith in Ketill’s crazed idea, and so she finally succumbed.

Still, she had never quite been free from her doubts. Though she had pushed them aside long enough to snatch the role of bait from her brother, they had never quite left her as they continued to prepare for the plans. Now, standing next to a pile of meat and shivering out in the cold, Najla felt them all come back to her, far worse than before. She tried to convince herself that she’d put herself in a bear’s path many times before, but the notion did little to make her feel better. In truth, she was far more nervous for it, for now she saw where such choices had landed her. Najla clutched the cloak tighter around her as she waited, her eyes scanning the trees before looking down to the pile of snow Ketill had covered himself with. They’d been waiting for quite some time. What if he’d frozen down there, leaving nothing but a statute beneath the ground standing between her and the beast that was coming? She opened her mouth briefly, wanting to make certain he was still alive before she remained any longer, but quickly thought better of it. For some reason she could not understand, it felt far more dangerous to break the silence than to shiver through it.

It seemed like ages, but suddenly, she heard the bushes begin to shake, parting as they revealed their target. Najla’s eyes widened at the sight, her jaw dropping slightly. She’d never seen a bear before, had never imagined they could be so large. But this one was looking straight at her, its paws pounding into the ground as it rushed towards her. Everything in her body screamed at her to run, to abandon Ketill and go, but it felt as if her feet were frozen into the ground. The bear moved closer, and yet she was still stuck, the fear suddenly making it so that she could not move, could not speak.

RUN!

Ketill’s voice came, breaking through the fear. Suddenly, Najla turned and raced in the opposite direction, not looking back to see if Ketill had even remained to block her path. She simply ran, as fast as the snow would allow her to, as far as she could before the sound of an animal’s cry came. Najla turned around, looking to see the bear running away, followed by a trail of blood. Ketills? As Basim ran towards them, passing Najla to reach Ketill, Najla was able to distinguish whose blood that truly was.

As Basim and Ketill spoke, Najla watched with a silence that bordered between horror and fascination as Ketill shook off her brother’s concerns, turning to move after the bear. He would not listen to Basim, though he urged him to come back. And for what? A rabbit? The absurdity of the notion seemed to relieve Najla of the fear that’d silenced her, though they’d turn only to throw themselves back into the clutches of the bear again.

“Ketill, stop!” Now it was Najla’s turn to call after him, though she knew he would not listen. “Let it bleed, we can try and find it once it’s dead.”

It would be a slim chance, but finding the dead bear was far more likely than Ketill being able to kill it now. Still, it brought no response from him, and so Najla and Basim trudged through the snow after Ketill, their eyes set on that trail of blood. Until finally, they came into sight of the bear again. Though she was no longer in its path, it was a small comfort, and Najla watched with wide eyes as Ketill blocked off the creatures last path to run. All attempts to convince him otherwise were forgotten, for as Ketill dropped the cloak into her hands, Najla could only look up at him in shock. This was only worsened when he took off his tunic as well, exposing himself to the blistering cold. He was a madman, if she had not been convinced of that before, the cloak and tunic she clutched in her hands now proved it.

Then there was that warcry again, that word she’d grown all too familiar with. She clutched Ketill’s cloak and tunic in her left hand then, her right one reaching down to grab Basim’s. Neither of them took their eyes off the sight in front of them, but it provided her some comfort at least, and she felt her hand tense around his as Ketill rushed towards the beast, only to gasp as the bear’s claws raked across Ketill’s face, forcing him back. Even from here, she could tell the blow was painful, though Ketill did not seem to feel it. No, he merely called out to that strange God of his again, and the two crashed together once more, though this time, they did not separate.

Basim cried out to Ketill, stepping forward instinctively, though Najla’s grip on his hand held him back. He wasn’t going to rush out to help, certainly, but the mere thought that he might try frightened Najla far more than the sight before her. Thankfully, he remained standing, and they watched as Ketill struggled against the beast, until finally, the creature dropped dead on top of him.

Basim released Najla’s hand quickly, rushing towards Ketill, and Najla moved to follow, but Ketill’s cry stopped her in her tracks once more. Only briefly, but when Najla reached him, passing him back the tunic and cloak, there was something entirely new in the way she studied him. Perhaps it was the blood that fell from his face, the three deep cuts that he did not seem to feel. Yet she did not even look at them as Ketill forced them to wait in the snow while he carved up the bear, nor did she complain. Her eyes bored into Ketill’s, trying to understand just what she had seen, what sort of God would give a man that strength. Basim seemed excited by the endeavor, at least now that he knew Ketill would not die trying to chase after it, but Najla watched him with a wariness she had not felt before. Regardless, she said nothing on it, remaining oddly silent until they returned to the warmth of the cabin. There, Basim would finally prod her to speak.

<“What is it? Did the bear frighten you?”>

<“No. Well, yes, but that’s not it exactly.”>

<“Then what?”>


<“I don’t know, truthfully. I think it’s just that every time I begin to wonder if he’s truly a man, something pushes that into doubt again.”>

<“You said you'd stop calling him a Djinn. He is a man. He bleeds, you saw it.”>


I saw it yes, but did he feel it? Najla did not speak on her thoughts however, opting to drop the conversation entirely instead. She did not need to be reminded of what sort of beast he was, and what little protection she had from him now.




Ketill’s reasoning as to the knock did little to ease Najla’s nerves, and she stood back with Basim, watching cautiously as Ketill opened the door. Despite Ketill’s figure in the doorway, Najla could tell that behind him stood three men, a fact that did not sit easily with her. Even though she’d recently witnessed him kill a bear, it did little to convince her in the face of these odds. The men did not seem interested in fighting however, and despite the news that Ketill gave them, the men did not seem to mind. This truly was an odd land, that men would hear of such murders and say nothing on the matter. Death seemed to be a fact of life here, not greeted with the same ritual the Sawarim held to it, but as normalized in their day to day lives as hunting. Even though they did not seem to care, Najla was still unhappy that Ketill had invited them into their home so easily, and merely watched the men with a slight frown as they entered.

She did not return their nods, though Basim did. He seemed to have grown accustomed to their presence, likely seeing similarities in how they’d been treated in the merchant’s tent at the trial, and how Ketill was treating these men. Najla however, held no interest in the complexities of their culture, the frown remaining on her expression as they introduced themselves. Whether out of wariness, or because she’d never learn how to pronounce such names, it was unclear. There would not be time to understand it either, for the frown only deepened as Ketill commanded her to bring them food and furs. Though she’d grown more used to Ketill’s new tone, it was especially irritating when she did not want these men in the house to begin with. Now, she would be the one to ease their stay here while Ketill sat back on his furs, toying with his pet project. Whatever irritation she held at the notion was only conveyed when she glared in Ketill’s direction, for she said nothing.

Rather, Najla brought the men their food without saying anything. As they’d already eaten, she only divided whatever was left of that night’s dinner into three bowls, passing one off to each of the men. As she did, Najla could tell where their eyes were landing, not on the food but on the hand that passed it to them. She’d grown more used to the northerner’s curiosity regarding her appearance, though it had been some time since she’d seen another man but Ketill or her brother. Still, it brought no conversation, for it was Basim that seemed more eager to speak to these men. After all, he’d been trapped just as Najla was. For Basim, it seemed to have brought an eagerness to speak to any who might be able to break that monotony, but Najla found nothing curious in their words. Not until Basim asked what they planned to do in Broacien.

She passed them the furs as they answered, explaining to her brother how they would return once the winter was over and what they’d do until then. So they passed over the mountains, there were those who would move back and forth. Easily enough, it seemed, for they spoke as if they had been doing so for many winters. Perhaps, she’d be able to return. Not with these men, Najla did not trust them enough to be sheltering them as they did for the night, let alone ask to travel with them. It had seemed an insurmountable obstacle before, and Najla knew that her and Basim could never cross those mountains on their own, and Ketill seemed as if he’d found his home here. He would never take them back over, though she did not doubt he’d be happy to see her go along on her way. Even if she would return over those mountains, there was little more life in Broacien than there would be here, and she knew that if he wished, Osman could reach her there. Still, Najla enjoyed the thought that one day, when they’d long forgotten her name, Najla would be able to return to a greener land and away from the beast she’d attached herself to. She could hear little else of what the men and Basim said, despite the small space of the house, only speaking up when she stood to take the empty bowls from the men once more, interrupting her brother in the process.

“Enough questions Basim, let them rest.”




It did not take long after the men left for the winter to begin to set in. Although Najla had already been unused to the strange weather of this new land, the winter was another sort of beast entirely, one she never could have imagined. At first, the thick blanket of snow nearly reminded her of home, the way the desert sands coated every inch of the land that the eye could imagine. However, it did not take long for that notion to fade, reminding her of the strange land she was trapped in now. They could no longer go outside, even briefly, and this proved to be a greater burden than she’d imagined. It was near impossible to escape thoughts when confined to this room, when they had nothing else to do, and her dreams began to seem as if they were the only source into a world outside of this small house. Still, they were always unwelcome memories. At least, they usually were.

It was a surprise to her then, to open her eyes to a far more welcome scene. The halls of the palace were as she had always remembered them, pristine and glistening, decorated with art that she had never quite cared to look on. However, at the end of the halls stood a figure she had never seen in these dreams, not like this. But he turned towards her, the sunlight streaming through one of the large windows, and Najla felt her breath hitch in her throat.

That was her brother, as she’d always wanted to remember him. Not a skull trapped on a pike, not a rotting corpse, but a man of flesh and blood. He was taller than Harith had been, broad-shouldered, with that deep black hair and olive skin that was so like her own. Unlike Harith’s flashing hazel eyes, Jalil’s were a light brown, deceivingly calm gentle. He was a warrior, that much was clear by his build and appearance. Najla wanted to run to him, to tell him that she was sorry, that she had missed him, to beg for his forgiveness and ask if he was well, but none of those sounds came. She was trapped in a memory as she usually was, unable to do or say anything beyond what she had done before. It was a painful notion, but the memory that spoke in her place did not know this.

<“Jalil! I heard you had returned, I was just coming to find you!”>

Najla rushed to him, clutching him tightly in greeting before she released him. As painful as it was not to speak to him as she wanted to, this was somehow worse. Still, this younger version of herself had never known what it was to be without those she held dear for more than a month at a time, and so she drew back quickly.

<“I just went to see Nura first, she was so worried I had forgotten the bracelet she requested.”>

<“Did you bring me one too?”>


<“No.”> Her disappointed expression was met with a smile, and he urged her to return to the room she’d just come out of. <“I brought you something better. Come on, let me show you.”>

Eagerly, Najla turned to return to her room, with Jalil following just behind her. Her room had been a frequent sight in her dreams, though never in such a context. Usually, she dreamt of the nights she spent there with Osman, when she had still believed he loved her, or even after, when she dreaded his very presence. Now, she merely watched as Jalil closed the door behind him, eager to know what sort of gift he’d brought that he’d need to pass in such secrecy. At least, she remembered that she had been eager at the time, though Najla felt none of that now. She merely watched as he pulled out something quite small, a gift that remained hidden in the clutches of his fist. Najla watched as he opened turned his fist over and opened it, revealing a small gem with a thin gold chain threaded through it to make a necklace. She had been disappointed initially, when she had first received it, for she remembered just how much more splendid the bracelet Nura had received would be. However, as Jalil dropped the gem into her hand, Najla lifted it to the light, hearing Jalil’s chuckle as her eyes widened.

<“What is it?”>

<“It’s a necklace.”>

<“No, inside! What is that?”>


The gem itself was a light blue, carved through by expert hands. It would have been little different than the opulence that surrounded them, but she could see that whoever had carved the gem had expertly shaved gold foil inside, making it seem as if the sands of the desert were trapped within it. The back had been sealed with gold as well, but whoever the craftsman was had inlaid small tiles on it, creating a backdrop of a small city, one she had never seen. It was not where Jalil had come from either, but he would not allow her to guess any longer, seating himself on her bed as she remained standing, twisting the jewel in the light.

<“There was a craftsman among the Al-Jabr, one of the few there who know how to do this still. They must carve into the gem from the back, it’s a risky process, he said he’s wasted many a stone this way. But if they succeed, they can inlay those thin gold strips or even those tiles. This one took him nearly a year to make.”>

<“Why didn’t you bring him back?”>

<“Who?”>

<“The craftsman! We could have given him all the jewels he wished to work with, any of the-“>


Jalil’s laughter cut off her words, and though he spoke somewhat teasingly, Najla could tell he was slightly annoyed at her request. Still, he’d always had a soft spot for his youngest sister, and she had found a constant ally in her oldest brother. It would take far more than her greed to sever that, though she would test those limits quite soon.

<“Isn’t one enough? You’re not happy with it?”>

<“No, no. I’ve just never seen anything like this before. Thank you.”>


<“Don’t thank me yet. There’s a condition to this gift.”> He stood up quickly then, snatching the gem out of her hand before she had a chance to protest. Though she reached for it, he was faster than her, and she knew she would never be able to retrieve it without his permission.

<“Tell me you’ve severed ties with Osman.”>

Silence. Najla’s expression turned to a glare, her mind racing as she tried to piece together where he’d heard this information from.

<“I asked you to do so before I left. I told you what shame it’d bring on our family if anyone found out. It doesn’t matter if you don’t think he’ll tell, just-“>

<“Nura told you, didn’t she?”>

<“It doesn’t matter who told me, you said you’d end it before. I’m tired of always picking up your slack, yours and Hariths.”>

<“Don’t compare me to him! Do you know how many of those women I’ve kept quiet? I don’t do it so you can lecture me-“>

<“No, you do it for the sake of our family. Just as I’m doing now.”>


Again, silence. Najla had not been able to respond then, she had always known her brother was telling the truth. After all, it was incredibly risky for a sultana to engage with any man before marriage, doing so meant that she’d never be able to be married off afterwards. As the eldest, it had always been Jalil’s responsibility to rein his siblings in, though they had always given him far more trouble than it was worth.

<“Fine.”> His response came after moments of silence, and he turned to go. Just before he did however, he reached out, dropping the necklace on the bed. It seemed he wanted her to have it anyways, though her eyes angrily remained on his retreating figure. <“But whatever you do, make sure you can undo as well.”>

<“Is this what you wanted to show me?!”> The words that came pouring out of her mouth were not the ones she’d spoken then, nowhere close. It was the first time that she’d been able to move out of the trappings of memory, but it had no effect, for Jalil walked towards the door even as she continued to yell out at him, tears forming in her eyes now.

<“Did you want to say you were right?! Is this why you showed your face to me?! As if the death of our family had not made that point, as if I could not have known! After all those times I asked to see you, all those nights I spent praying to hear your voice again, this is what you had to show me?!”>

Even as she cried out after him, her gaze fell to the necklace he’d left on the bed, one she’d lose some years later as if it were another mere trinket. That was not the man her brother was, it never had been. She reached to the necklace, wondering if that had been in his power at all, but just as she touched the necklace, the memory vanished from her sight.

Najla startled awake, the sounds of her own screams ringing in her head. her eyes barely opening for a moment before she felt a gasp catch in her throat. He was still there. The figure she’d seen, it was not confined to her dreams but kneeled over her brother’s sleep figure now. Was she going mad? Najla blinked, but he had not moved, bent over Basim. The fear felt like a steady weight on her chest, and she remained frozen, unable to do much but watch. As she did, Najla noticed that he was not quite flesh to her eyes, for all that was flesh was hidden in the darkness now. But he was as clear to her eyes as if it were daylight, though she could see little else. All the questions she’d wanted to speak in her memories, the scream that hitched in her throat, they all remained blissfully silent, frozen in her throat until he moved.

Despite the fear that kept her silent, Najla began to pull herself off of the furs, her eyes never moving from the figure. Ever so slowly, the figure reached a hand out to touch his arm. It looked like flesh upon flesh, but Basim did not stir. Even that realization did not force Najla to stay still, and as she stood the figure did too, turning back to look at her briefly before moving towards the door. She did not think twice, not about Djinns or the cold, and just after the figure moved through the door, Najla was greeted with a sudden gust of cold as she opened it, moving through it just before closing it behind her.

<“Jalil!”> She did not raise her voice higher than the wind, but something in her chest felt as if she’d been heard. He was there still, somewhere, she could feel his presence. Still, nothing but the cold answered her. <“Come back!”>

Nothing answered her, and Najla shivered, crossing her arms over her chest. Still, she did not move to go inside, her eyes moving over the landscape before her. He was watching her, she was sure of it, she could feel him. So why didn’t he answer her? She could feel tears rising now, though the cold made them easy to suppress.

<“I promise, I’m not scared of you! Please, just give me an answer, I don’t understand.”>

She was answered with silence once more, and the cold was no longer worth tolerating. Najla wanted to tell herself it was a figment of her imagination, though even as she turned around to go back inside, she felt as if she could feel eyes at her back still. Why wouldn’t he speak to her? Was he angry with her? He had so many reasons to be, was he angry because of what she’d done to their family, or that fact that he roamed still? Was he still unburied? Was that why he roamed?

The questions did not cease as she reentered, closing the door as softly as she could behind her. Still, the movement seemed to have awoken Basim, who moved slightly on his furs as if to sit up.

<“Najla – Is that you? What are you doing?”>

<“Shh, my blood.”> Najla whispered, walking back towards her furs. <“Go back to sleep.”>

He did not need any more convincing than that, it seemed, for Najla was quick to lay back on her furs again. She would not close her eyes till morning, for once, not out of fear of what she’d see, but in the fear that she’d miss it if he returned.




The end of winter was a blessing, one that Najla believed she might never see again. That thick blanket of snow seemed as if it would never fade, and the fact that they hadn’t been able to leave the house only made it seem longer, leaving them trapped with each other and their thoughts. Worse than that, Najla had watched as their food supply seemed to slowly dwindle, realizing that this was a fear she had never had to endure for so long before. While the bear had thankfully provided them with enough meat to last the winter, even that seemed to come to an end, and she was grateful that the thinning snow meant they would not have to rely on it’s meat forever. Eating the same meat every day was nearly as boring as being trapped inside these walls, though Najla knew better than to complain about it.

Still, she found herself grateful when Ketill set out to set traps, though it would not last long. As soon as Ketill stepped out the door, she heard his voice call for them to bring him an axe, a statement that rarely preceded anything good. Basim was quick to grab the axe and rush out the door to pass it to Ketill, and Najla followed just moments after, not wanting to remain in the house and wait for whatever happened.

The sight of the three men approaching would not have been worrisome in most cases. Even from a distance, the figures seemed to be walking idly, dragging something behind them. Yet they were a strange sight in the emptiness she’d come to expect of the north, just as any other human would be. As they came closer, Najla was able to recognize them as the men who’d stayed with them before the winter. Perhaps she would not have remembered their faces otherwise, but she had seen no one else besides Ketill and Basim for some time. She did not remember their names either, but that was simply because she had never learned to pronounce them, as their one night here had not been enough for her to learn or care. She could only hope that they were here for the same purpose as before, to stay the night and move on, though Najla had not been thrilled with that either.

The men’s new request however, was far more surprising. Najla quickly turned her gaze up towards Ketill, hoping silently that he’d say no. She could not imagine what would happen if he did, but the thought that they’d be living with them was just as dangerous as what might happen if they refused. Ketill did not seem to react to her gaze, and even if he had seen, she did not assume he’d care. This was his house now, he’d made that quite clear, and so this was his decision. That much was affirmed by her silence when he agreed, instructing her to show them their place. Though she made no attempt to hide her expression, Najla said nothing as she tore her gaze off Ketill, turning back into the house to show the men their place.

She’d show them to the same corner they’d slept in the first time they had come, though this time, they did not hesitate to show that their stay was meant to be more permanent by unloading their supplies. The men did not act like cutthroats, but even if they were not, there were plenty of reasons for Najla to be wary of the three strangers joining them. Her experience with the other men of the north, namely Ketill, would have been enough by itself. Regardless of how she felt, Najla found the men some furs to sleep on later in the night. As she passed them over to the man who had spoken, presumably their leader, he thanked her with a nod of his head. Najla did not return the gesture, but it did not seem to matter to him. He simply passed the furs to one of his companions, before pointing a finger at her new necklace.

“Did you kill it too?”

It was hardly a serious statement, and the man seemed rather amused by the thought, for good reason. Despite her wariness of the men, the comment elicited a small smile, and she reached up to touch at the bear claw necklace. Najla had said nothing to Ketill after finding it on her bed of furs and was certain that he was not waiting for her gratitude. Though it seemed silly, the familiar feeling of a weight around her neck brought a sense of comfort. Though she could not pretend that it was a precious metal, Najla felt no need to. The feeling of the claws was far different than the gold she was used to, but it was certainly far more fitting as to the environment.

“No. Only a bear can kill a bear.”

She had wanted to call him a Daab, it seemed far more natural than bear after all the years the word had spent attached to Ketill’s name. However, the slow way she spoke indicated that she was putting some care into these thoughts, at least enough to ensure the man would not be confused by her accent. Her answer seemed to satisfy the leader, whose amusement was visible for a moment before he turned to continue helping his companions settle in. Najla was quick to move away from them, for while the brief interaction had somewhat lessened the tension, it did little to dispense of her wariness. Najla was grateful when the men left to go hunt, and more so when Ketill left as well, leaving her alone with Basim to process this.

They did not need to exchange too many words on the matter, both Basim and Najla agreed that they were wary of the men’s presence. Still, there was little they could do about it, and merely hoped that whatever reason Ketill had for allowing them in would be worth it. Therefore, it was no surprise that Basim had been quick to press Ketill for the reason why once he returned from setting traps, though the explanation would hardly be satisfactory to Najla.

It was strange to hear that Ketill intended to begin farming. It was not as if Najla was opposed to the idea, for watching the food supply dwindle as winter closed was sufficient to convince her that they’d need to find more ways to get food. However, something about the notion that they’d be farming made their entire situation feel much more permanent. At first, it had felt as if she was simply waiting for the winter to end, but now that winter was over, it was slowly sinking in that there might not be an end. At least, not now. It was not an entirely unpleasant notion, mostly since her other options weren’t much better, but it did not seem to sit well all the same. She still could not understand why Ketill intended to allow them to live and farm on what he’d deemed ‘his’ land, just as much as she couldn’t understand why he had brought them in the first place. Regardless, Najla would not tell either Ketill or Basim about these feelings, knowing it would not help to explain them. Besides, the thought that these men would be a part of that future raised greater concerns.

“If you left the desert still trusting every man who asked you to, then you gained nothing from your experience but scars.”

Najla’s reply came a few moments after Ketill and Basim paused. It was spoken with little emotion, for Najla knew that it wouldn’t do much more than alert the men as to her feelings, as if they were not aware of them already. Najla knew that Ketill did not entirely trust them, he had said as much himself, but to allow the men into their home, to sleep under their roof, that was more than she ever would have extended to a stranger. Then again, Ketill had a freer reign to extend such trust to a stranger than she did, for he could fight them off if they ever decided to turn. Najla would not have such a luxury, nor did she believe Ketill would do so for her sake. Regardless, it seemed the new necessities their environment had brought was slowly beginning to dawn on her. After glancing at Basim, Najla turned her gaze back to Ketill, the tone of her voice changing slightly. It seemed more resigned than anything, for she would not speak of her deepest fears regarding the men to either of them. She did not want Basim to know, and Ketill would not care.

“You think he should kick them out?”

Najla shrugged at her brother’s question. It was too late to ask for something like that, it would do far more to anger the men than refusing in the first place. What Ketill should do was not a question she could answer. He was right, she knew nothing about farming, and had not even considered that it might be necessary until Ketill mentioned it. What she wanted him to do however, was a far easier question to answer.

“I can think whatever I like, it won’t change his mind. I’m just saying that planting crops won’t be worth much if you don’t make it to the harvest.”

Her gaze turned away from her brother and onto Ketill, studying his expression to see how he was reacting to her words. Najla had no doubt that Ketill had taken this into account already, but more than anything, she worried that he believed he could meet it. If they decided to fight him, Najla would not have doubted him. But now that they were under the same roof, they could easily slit his throat in his sleep, as well as Basim’s. That was not quite the fear Najla held for herself.

“You can’t uninvite them now anyways. If this does not end poorly, it is not for the strength of your decisions, but your luck.”

She stood then, realizing there was nothing else to say. She’d voiced her displeasure, as if it would have changed the situation. The best thing to do now was simply get her mind off the situation, likely by committing herself to another of the endless tasks available.

“I'll say nothing else on the matter, just don’t leave me alone with them.”


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