This is my first completed fanfiction in...years.
Long story short, RA taught me how to write again. It's shaky and slow for now, but I am forever grateful.
Hope you enjoy.
They'd gotten the Temujai on board safely.
Erak glanced beside him at Halt, decked out in Skandian gear, which still looked ridiculous on him.
Halt had insisted on coming. Even though Erak had pointed out the suspicious discrepancy in size, it was clear he was not going to win this one. He had reminded the Ranger of the disastrous attempt they had made to spy on the Temujai camp, but Halt had countered that he had a greater chance at acting like a Skandian than Erak had at acting like a Ranger.
Erak had to concede that point.
He still thought he had been right, but they simply had to pick up the Temujai, so they couldn't spend all day arguing.
He just hoped the artful Ranger had a passable cover story.
Besides, maybe the Temujai wouldn't question it. He planned to steer the ship into the most tumultuous storm he could find, after all, and the Eastern riders would soon have little attention left for critical thought.
But that hope died as a Tem'uj, the leader of the group - Or'kam, Erak remembered - looked over at them, again.
He was sitting fairly close to them, which Erak did not find convenient, and now stabbed a finger at the shorter man.
"Who is this?" he demanded in heavily accented common tongue.
There was no overt threat to them in Halt's presence, but any nervousness on Erak's part would tip him off immediately.
The Jarl scrambled, and joyfully blurted the first thing that popped into his head.
"Oh, him? Well, that's a shame - you see, he was dropped on his head when he was a baby, and it stunted his growth, but we still take him on trips with us because he thinks sailing is a riot!" He clapped Halt on the back sharply, barking in laughter as the other man scrambled to stay upright.
The Tem'uj squinted at them both, then turned back around, accepting the explanation as the sentimentality of other races. Just another reason why his people would come out as dominant.
Halt, meanwhile, was silently murderous.
It was a pity he had left his bow in Skandia. It would have been far too conspicuous on board, but he would have found it immensely satisfying to send an arrow into the Jarl's substantial buttocks.
At least he could fantasize about it the whole journey back.
Or, he realized as Erak subtly steered the craft closer to the storm clouds on the horizon, could he?
Oh, Erak was most definitely going to feel his wrath.
By the way. I adore Malcolm. I have plans for him. :3