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It took only a few days before I grew accustom to the swaying of the ship and the salty water splashing in my face. It also took only a few days for the Northman who had taken me to loosen the ropes around my wrists, I was still tied up, but no longer tied to the side of the ship, maybe they assumed I was small enough I could be restrained quickly if I decided to jump overboard.

Glancing over the edge of the ship I shuddered, no chance of that occurring, I had no desire to die in the sea, not if I wanted to join my family in the otherworld. That thought made me pause for a moment…if I was to die not on the soil of my ancestors, but on soil of another land…another people, who believed in gods so very different from my own deities, would the Bean Nigh still find me and take me home? I doubted it, I would most likely cease to exist in the physical world, just become a ghost to haunt this new land for all eternity, never reunited with my family in the otherworld…which meant I would do all in my power and will to not die on the Northmen's soil, I would return home someday.

The ship hit a particularly large wave and sent us flying into the air before crashing down, soaking those of us unfortunate enough to be close to the edge. I bit back my yelp of fear and simply held fast to the side, closing my eyes tight. A few moments passed, when I felt a hand on my shoulder and I slowly and cautiously looked. It was the Northman I had come to see as my protector, even though I'm sure I was nothing more than a prize from their raid, meant to be sold as a slave like my grandfather before me. He seemed to care for me, at least somewhat and had been slipping me a little more food than the monks were given. But that may have been because unlike several of the monks who had clearly never missed a meal, not allowing me to eat was a common punishment when I refused to do what I was told.

Many times at the monastery, it reached the point where I would raid the henhouse and steal eggs to eat raw, just to have something to coat my gnawing stomach pains. The Northman must have taken pity on my in that regards given how small I am. Now he sat down next to me, cautious as if he was trying not to frighten me, his hand still on my shoulder.

"Njrod," he said slowly, placing both hands on his chest "Njrod," he repeated the word several times, each time emphasizing his hands to his chest, until I finally realized he was telling me his name.

"Njrod," I repeated pointing at him and he smiled wide, nodding excitedly.

"Goor!" he exclaimed and I could only assume that meant good. He pointed at me again, poking me in the chest, he wanted me to say my name again, but a few days of bouncing around, trying to not be sick I had forgotten the word in his own language, instead I took a deep breath and spoke Gaelic.

"Fitheach," I said and made a cawing noise like a raven would

"Ah!" Njrod replied "Hrfan." And I nodded, remember the word the moment he said it, it flowed easier off my tongue as I repeated it and he smiled patting me on the head hard.

"Seadh!" I exclaimed nodding my head quickly. Communication between us would be difficult, but I could tell I was already picking up more of his language than my grandfather had initially taught me and if I could learn English in a few months (thereby ignoring it properly whenever it was spoken to me by a monk), then learning the Northman's language should be simple enough. At least that was my thought until Njrod spurted out a long, long sentence that I could not follow and I felt my shoulders drop. Seeing my disappointment and lack of understanding, Njord patted my shoulder and even without words I could understand him, I would get better.

Njord was as anxious to teach me his language as he was to learn mine. He spent as much time as possible during the voyage showing me different objects and saying them in his own tongue then looking at me expectantly to not only repeat his Norse words, but also tell him the object in Gaelic. Though the other raiders didn't feel the same need to learn my language, they too began teaching me to speak and understand their strange words. I was still tied at the wrists, but strangely I felt at ease with the Northmen.

I could tell the monks at least the ones who had not shut down entirely were less than pleased by these lessons, especially by the fact I was so eager to learn our abductors tongue but had fought them tooth and nail against learning English, Latin, or even their Christian ways. Even though, I could understand English and Latin...they may not have believed I was listening, but in that regards, I was.

I knew I was still a prisoner and my fate was rested on the Northmen's intentions for me, but for some reason, I felt more at ease with the Norse than I ever had with the monks or the English soldiers who came into my village that day...demanding the village relinquish three children from the clan to the king. The soldiers had final say in which children would be taken, some, maybe all but all children in the village older than five winters were required to present themselves to the soldiers. This automatically excluded my youngest brother and sister. She was only weeks old and he was three winters. But my older siblings, my younger brother, and I all knew we were not safe.

We never knew when they would come, nor did we know how many would be taken to be turned into servants, foot soldiers, monks, whatever purpose they could find to Christianize us and slowly wipe out our beliefs, starting with the young. We knew from stories and warnings from other clans that sometimes the soldiers would take as many of the children that could make the journey, and slaughter the rest of the clan, the very young, the very old, and especially the adults who refused to convert and renounce the Celtic Deities.

I closed my eyes as the ship rocked back and forth lulled me to sleep, remembering how my life changed forever.

X-x-x

"We must run and hide, at least hide the children." My mother sobbed as we gathered around the fire, my youngest brother Brier, snuggled deep into my father's bear cloak, upset by my mother's tears. Moria, my wee baby sister simple cooed, not aware of our mother's distress or heartache my older brother and I exchanged a look and glanced at our father who sighed. He looked as distressed as mam but he's a warrior, he doesn't show emotions often. He looked at my older brother and sister.

"Do ye think I want to risk any of them being taken by the Anglish?! Or worse?" My father growled "who knows where they take 'em. What they do to them. If it wasn't fer Angus' boy escaping and coming back we'd never see any of 'em again." He paused and stoked the fire. "If they were to come tomorrow, they could take a few of the children and leave the rest of us in peace," my father looked at my older siblings and I, I was only nine winters, nearly ten, but I felt proud to be included in the conversation, at least somewhat. "Or they could do what they did in the east."

We all lowered our eyes away from our father, we knew of that incident, everyone did, only one clan had fought back against the English and the soldiers had slaughtered the entire clan, leaving only one elderly woman alive. They escorted her to the high chieftain of the east so that she could act as a messenger...the English were not to be taken lightly.

"We could hide, take the children and hide them." My mother argued "we've lived away from the clan before, we can do it again."

"And then what?" My father reminded her "if they are truly marching this way with the intent to take as many children as possibly, they will search the woods." He paused "and I wont run,"

"Neither will we fa," my older brother called, he yanked on my shirt and pulled me to my feet "we'll fight, let the Anglish come, we'll fight them."

My mother stood up and hugged me and my older brother close, nearby my younger brother let out wheeze from his bed, he had been sick for days, if the English did come and try to take us, my brother would barely make it out of bed, let alone out of the village, he would die or they would kill him.

My father stood up and clapped us both on the shoulder, I was not nearly as confident as my brother was, I had barely held my father's sword, let alone wielded it. But we would fight if they tried to take us, fight if they tried to slaughter us. We would not go down easily.

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The English had come, early in the morning before dawn, they broke down doors and pulled sleeping children from their beds, any adult who opposed them was brought down. By the time they reached our home, my father, brother, and I were ready, my mother protected my younger siblings as we stood ready to greet our unwelcome guests.

I'm not even entirely sure what occurred, I know my older brother was cut down right in front of me, his blood washing over me, my father had pushed me out of the way as another soldier swung his sword toward my neck, I had been so shocked I dropped the very heavy sword in my hand. One swift swing of the sword took my father down and as I was dragged out kicking and screaming, I watched in horror as my younger brother was pulled from bed and forced to follow me.

I heard my mother screaming and my youngest brother and wee little sister crying, all around us the village burned and neighbors screamed and cried. Apparently we were not the only family to fight back that morning, but like our clansmen, we were no match for the English soldiers, we were outnumbered and outfought. My brother, weak as he was clung to my arm tightly and coughed between sobs as we were dragged towards a group of our friends and kin, about six of us all together. As the village burned behind us the soldiers tied ropes to our wrists and around our necks, linking each of us together. We never had the chance to say goodbye to our families, or process what had just occurred right in front of us. Behind us we could still hear the screaming, some of the younger kids tried to turn around and run back to their homes, but that meant the rest of us would go to as the ropes were pulled tied and yanked us all off balance. Only a handful of soldiers joined the few that had tied us up, I couldn't tell where the rest of them were, but when I asked one of the older boys, he lowered his eyes in shame as we began to march.

"Sealing their deaths," he muttered "they violate our mothers…our sisters, when we are older we'll return the favor tenfold."

I remember looking back in horror, understanding why my older sister wasn't with us, why she had not been forced out of. I looked down the line of us, the only two girls in the line of us were younger than my sister; one was only seven or so while the other, Aileen was my age give or take, nine.

My brother was in line behind me and his sobbing had not stopped, but now it was silent tears, mixed in with his continued wheezing.

"Fitheach," he called "Fitheach where are we going?"

"I don't know," I replied trying to keep my own voice steady, I could hear my mother screaming for my brother and I, then screaming for mercy, her familiar voice blending in with the others in the village, young, old. "Stay with me Eoin, we'll get through this together. We'll come home brother I promise."

A clap of thunder crashed overhead and it startled me a moment, but I was still deep in my nightmare, I couldn't escape from the memory. I pulled my knees closer to my chest and hugged them. I had broken that promise to Eoin, not only would we get home, but we wouldn't even do it together, About a day into our long journey, Eoin couldn't keep up, he was pulling me back and the boy behind him was tripping over him. His coughing had ceased, but had been replaced with a hollow sound coming from deep in his throat when he breathed. When he finally fell, the rest of the line fell on top of him and the rope around my own neck, attached to his, yanked me down with such force that the coarse rope cut into my tender flesh. Eoin went down and did not get up, no matter how much I prodded and begged him, he could not get to his feet.

One of the soldiers came over to see who was causing the hold up and when he saw my brother laying there, he yelled at him, barking in their strange tongue, but still my brother did not move. Then the soldier began kicking my small brother and I pulled against my bonds, slamming my fists against his metal breast plate, knowing very well I was not going to do any harm to him, but I wanted his attention on me, to give my brother a chance to get up. The soldier did turn his attention to me, long enough to backhand me with his gloved hand, sending me crashing to the ground. Gawain, the older boy in front of me, had pulled me to my feet

"You cannae do anything for him now," he had whispered as my brother was pulled up by another soldier, his bonds were cut and retied to reconnect the girl who had been behind him with me.

I had watched in horror as the soldier who had first attacked my brother said something to the other one and with a flick of his wrist, chucked my brother to the side of the path as we began marching on again. My brother has weakly looked up and reached out to me, calling my name, begging for me to help him, sobbing as he realized we were walking away from him. I tried to get to him, tried to pull away, but Gawain made sure I followed, the line of us leaving my brother on the side of the road, to die.

I woke myself up with a cry, remembering my brother's face, it permanently imprinted on my memory. I looked around, most of the monks were asleep and several of the Northmen were as well, including Njord, the cloth billowed overhead moving the ship smoothly through the seas, even as the thunder roared overhead and the lightening crashed. One of the Northmen saw me staring up in the sky and he laughed loudly pointing to the sky.

He called something in his own language and laughed some more, only one word in the entire sentence was recognizable…Thor.

"Thor?" I repeated wiping a tear from my eye that had escaped during my nightmare. The Northman grinned wide at me and nodded his approval

"Thor!" he echoed holding his arms wide open to the sky. I was confused, my grandfather had said that Odin was the All Father, wouldn't that mean that he was the sky? Then it dawned on me, when my grandfather was naming some of the Northmen's gods…he had called Thor the God of Thunder and I understood. Thor was like Tannus, our god of Thunder.

"Thor!" I exclaimed as the thunder crashed again and the Northman jumped down so he was kneeling next to me

"yes!" he replied making sure I fully understood the word he was using as yes, it had only been a few days, but I knew I was picking up the language, slowly. "Thor God of Thunder and his mighty hammer Mjolnir!" I struggled to translate the words in my head, I recognized Thor and God had become easy to understand, the Northman made a movement with his hand like a hammer was that Mjolnir, did mjonir mean hammer?

"Mjolnir?" I repeated, making the same motion he had like I was hammering, at first the Northman stared at me in disbelief, then he looked at me like I was stupid

"hamarr," he said slowly, making the hammering motion again and I understood that, so hamarr was hammer, but then what was mjonir? "Thor's hamarr, Mjonir." Now I understood, Thor's hammer had a name, it was called Mjonir. I nodded showing the Northman I understood, he nodded back and patted my head before returning to his post.

Despite the storm, I could see the sun starting to peek over the horizon, I could also see the outline of land that had not been there when the sun had set the previous night. I pulled myself up to look closer and I felt a hand slap my back, not out of punishment, but just a friendly gesture, it was Njord, he was beaming with relief.

"Heimili!" he called spreading his arms wide like the other man had done during the thunder. This word I couldn't figure out and he pushed me again beaming "heimili!"

The other Northmen began repeating his word; they shook each other's hand, slapped their backs, and howled loudly.

It was then I realized what heimili meant…it meant home, at least home for the Northmen, for me I wondered what it would mean. Would it mean death, slavery, or life? As the boat aimed towards the outline these words began reciting over and over in my head.

"Arawn," I whispered, praying to the God of the Otherworld "please watch over me an' help me to return home someday, if I am to die on among these Northmen, please allow the Bean Nighe the strength to find me and bring me home, bring me to the otherworld with you an' my family. Somhlth, God of strength, I need you as well, help me be strong among these strangers and their gods."

Several of the Northmen heard my words, even though they didn't understand them, Njord included, but it was Mathus who recognized several of my Celtic deities and frowned, showing his contempt. I ignored him, what was ahead of us now neither of us knew and he had his god to protect him as I had gods, we both just had to hope they could reach this far.

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