"Please tell me I don't have to put my hands in that stuff."
"Well, if you want to get the hide out for stretching…you're going to have to."
"Can't I use your smithing tongs to grab it or something? Because that is utterly disgusting."
"There is no way in the nine realms I'm letting you use my smithing tongs to grab that." Cæna's brow rose somewhat in amusement.
Though nearly a year and a half had passed since he and Dagur met, the two of them had become extremely close. It hadn't always been like that, however: When they first learned who the other was and his connection to Thora, they had been jealous of one another. As time wore on and Dagur became healthy enough to start working, though, they quickly discovered that they worked well together.
Despite this, there were still moments when Dagur managed to take him by surprise -both pleasantly and unpleasantly.
"It's really not too bad once you get past the smell," Cæna chuckled, waving a fly from his face.
Dagur stared down into the barrel of water, liquified animal brains, and caribou hides. Not only did the mixture look nauseating, but it also smelled nauseating. Few things in the world made him squeamish, but when something looked like it had the consistency of vomit and the stench of a latrine in summer, however, even his iron stomach churned.
He looked up at Cæna, his brow rising. "And what if I refuse to do this?"
He shrugged. "The Lady will probably use me as a way to punish you."
Sticking his tongue out in disgust, Dagur stepped forward. He really didn't want Cæna hurt because of his actions. After a moment's hesitation, he reached into the barrel and grabbed one of the hides. Not only was the liquid thick like stew, but it was freezing cold. "Oh gods, this is revolting!" He yanked his hand out of the mixture, bringing the hide with it.
The speed at which he pulled the hide out sent cold, liquid brain splattering over the both of them.
"Thanks." Cæna wiped a glob of brain matter from his face as he looked down at Dagur with a brow raised. "And here I thought you liked me."
Dagur shrank back, smiling innocently. "I got the hide out…?" He then shuddered, lifting all but his index finger and thumb from the skin. "It doesn't feel right…"
A playfully handsome grin returned to his face. "The big, bad leader of the Berserkers…brought down by a tanned hide." Taking the hide, he held it above the barrel and attached it to some sort of twisting device. "If ever we get out of here and back to Thora, I'm going to tell her all about this." He picked up a metal bar, intending to shove it through the loop formed by the hide.
Dagur's eyes widened. "You most certainly will not!" he cried, snatching the metal bar from his hands. He shoved it through the loop and started to twist it round and round, squeezing the liquid from the hide and back into the barrel. "And even if you did, I'm sure she'd agree with me that this is an absolutely foul process."
Laughing, Cæna reached into the barrel, grabbing another hide. "Thora's done this before. Without her magic, mind you."
Glancing over his shoulder, he frowned. "You're joking."
"Nope. Ulfr taught her. And she, in turn, taught me." He held the skin out at arm's length, his nose scrunched up as he started to wring it out. "She wanted to make me a new smithing apron, but wanted to learn the process from the very beginning." Untwisting the hide, he started to wring it in a different direction. "Then again, she's done things far more disgustin' than this."
"…Do I want to know?"
He shrugged again, grinning cheekily; Dagur felt his cheeks grow warm. "I don't know; do you want to keep your breakfast in your stomach?"
Cringing, he shook his head. "Never mind."
"Oh, it's not too bad! Just involves birthin' a few babies is all."
"Yes, because the process of giving birth and helping a person give birth is one of the most pleasant of events." Sticking his tongue out, he blew a raspberry at him. "No thank you. I've seen it happen enough times with animals. I don't need to know how it happens with humans and human-like beings."
Cæna shrugged, still wearing a grin. "Oh, come now: It's the miracle of life! Sure, it's a little gross, but what's so bad about having to help a dwarf dame birth a half-dwarf, half-satyr?" He cracked up at the face Dagur gave him; it was clear he was less than enthused by the conversation.
"Ugh. She told me about that one. While I was eating! And she was so casual about it, too!"
"To be fair, she is a healer. That's the sort of thing she's supposed to do." He flicked a bit of brain matter from his arm back into the barrel. "Birthin' babies, shoving a person's entrails back into them, givin' out medicine…No wonder Freya was outraged when Thora wanted to give up bein' a Völva: She would have made a damned good one."
Dagur frowned slightly. "Freya never told me she was 'outraged'," he murmured. He then let out a small curse, realizing that by now, he had to stand on his tiptoes in order to keep wringing the hide. "Uh…Cæna? Can I get a little help?"
"Shall I find you a box…?"
"Very funny," he said, voice dry as Cæna took hold of the bar. In exchange, he took the other hide and started to squeeze it by hand. "In all seriousness, though, who figured out that brains can make hide supple?"
"Not just the brains," he grunted, using some effort as the hide got tighter. "They help, but it's also the hand stretching. And it was discovered by the Sami people."
His brow rose. "Sami people…?"
"The native inhabitants of this land. Well, the native human inhabitants." He slowly began to untwist the hide. "They herd caribou all along the continent -at least, that's what I've been told." Once it was fully unwound, he removed the hide from the device. "This one's ready for stretching."
"This one…isn't just yet."
Cæna chuckled. "Then here. You take this one and I'll finish that one for you." Exchanging hides, he once more hung the skin from the device.
Dagur looked at the almost-dry hide he held. "What do I do with this one?"
"Start pulling it around the edges." He glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was doing it right. "Yeah, like that."
Grunting, he gritted his teeth; the skin was tougher than he had expected. "How many more hides do we have to do after this?"
"Three barrels worth. Then we have to prep new hides to go into the barrels."
A groan left Dagur's mouth and he slouched forward somewhat. "Well…at least we're not on chamber-pot duty," he sighed.
Cæna snorted. "Too true! Thank the gods you got stuck with the blacksmith as your warden, huh?" Once more, he unwound the hide only to toss it over a nearby wall.
"Yeah…though, why are you doing the hides? I thought you had a set of pots to repair?" He looked up as Cæna came over and grabbed the opposite end of his hide.
"I do, but I'm supposed to spend the day showing you how to do the hides. Tomorrow, I'll go back to my smithy. Pull as hard as you can." He let out a small grunt as they started pulling and tugging on the skin, turning it every few pulls. "I guess the Lady thinks I don't need help in the forge. Shame, really. The company was nice. So was the help." Though he strained somewhat with the effort of tugging, he still managed one of his goofy-but-handsome smiles.
Dagur's cheeks burned again, though he had long ago grown used to it. It was hard not to get flustered when Cæna smiled like that. "You'd think after me being here for this long, she wouldn't suddenly change me over to a new job like this."
Cæna let out a sarcastic laugh. "She does as she pleases. And I hope you're paying good attention to what I'm showing you: She ate the last tanner because she thought he was doing a poor job."
His eyes widened as they stopped pulling. "Wh-what!?"
Cæna nodded, about to continue talking when he suddenly froze up. His eyes widened in fear as he stared past Dagur. Turning, Dagur saw the reason for his fear: An enormous female troll had entered the area: Urd. She was covered in jewelry and her long, greenish-grey hair was tied into many small braids and adorned with precious gems.
Mentally cursing, Dagur turned back around. "C'mon," he whispered to Cæna. "We got to keep working."
Cæna stiffly nodded, forcing himself to look down at the hide as he and Dagur went back to stretching it. He couldn't help but glance up every few seconds, keeping a watch on Urd as she wandered her way through the courtyard, checking on various things. Soon, though, they were forced to stop pulling on the hide.
"It's been stretched enough," Cæna told him, voice quiet. "I'll show you what to do next."
As they walked towards a post at the far end of the yard, Dagur made sure to keep himself between Cæna and Urd. It had become obvious to him quite early on that she had a fondness for causing him pain even if he had done nothing wrong. But she did it less often now that Dagur acted as a sort of blockade. She never touched Dagur -she only ever yelled at him.
In fact, no one would touch him. No one could touch him aside from Cæna and the other slaves. At first, no one knew why. For some weeks, Urd tried every possible spell, potion, and poison she could on him, but they all failed. Eventually, though, she was able to determine the reason: The amber necklace Thora had made him.
The moment she laid eyes on it, she had let out a deafening howl and started cursing up a storm -literally. So great was her anger, she didn't stop her tantrum for three whole days; the lands around her fortress were left flooded. No one knew why she was so upset by it, but Dagur was glad he could use it as a way to keep Cæna -and the other slaves- safe from her wrath at times.
"Alright. You wrap the hide around the pole like this," Cæna instructed, taking the hide and making sure the largest surface area possible was on the pole. Now closer, Dagur saw that it had been carved into a triangle; one of the points was pressed into the middle of the hide. "Then, holding the edges like this, you start pulled it back and forth." He started to show Dagur the correct movements. "When you get goin' real good, then you can lean back slightly to help pull it tighter."
"What does this part do? Seems kind of…useless to me."
"It helps to further soften it," he explained, stopping so he could hand the ends to him. "Stretching can only do so much, so we use friction t' do the rest." He peeked over his shoulder; Urd was checking the contents of one of the barrels. "You'll know you're done when you stop and it acts like regular cloth."
Dagur grunted as he pulled the hide. "And when I'm done with this?"
"I'll show you once you've got two hides done." He hated to do so, but he left Dagur pulling on the hide at the post. He went over to the barrel furthest from Urd, pulling out a third hide to wring out.
He was nearly done wringing it out when, from directly behind him, he heard Urd speak. "Three barrels need more-" Her voice had badly startled him, making him let go of the bar. She let out a wicked cackle as the bar spun around, smacking Cæna across the face with enough force to knock him to the ground. "Thought you were keeping eye on me, hmm?" she laughed.
Dagur, seeing what had happened, ran over. He helped Cæna sit up, worry filling his face. Blood was pouring from Cæna's mouth and nose, though he could tell nothing but skin had been broken. He glared up at Urd, who was still laughing.
"I don't know what you find so funny!" he snapped. "A blow like that could have easily killed him!" He tugged on the sleeve of his shirt, bringing it up enough that he could use it to stop the bleeding from Cæna's lip. "You alright?" he quietly asked him.
Cæna nodded, though his eyes were clenched shut in pain.
Urd's laughter abruptly stopped and she glared down at the two humans. "Exactly," she hissed. "You humans think yourselves strong when, in fact, you're so pathetically fragile. Little Cæna here was trying so hard to keep an eye on me, but he was also trying so hard to not get in trouble that he has no one to blame for his pain but himself!"
"You were the one who startled him!" he barked. "It's your fault he got hurt, you sick, twisted—" He was suddenly silenced as Cæna smacked his hand over his mouth.
"Don't," he grunted. Then, glancing up at Urd, he somewhat held Dagur in front of him. "You—you were saying about the barrels, Lady Urd?"
Her lips pulled back in a sneer, showing off foot-long tusks and yellowed teeth. "The last three need more brains," she replied, voice cold and harsh. She then glared at Dagur. "If you weren't protected by that damned necklace, I'd use your brains. As things are, though: Cæna go into town and get five or six brains. Calf and lamb, preferably, but whatever the butcher has available. If he has none, tell him to find some or I'll use his."
"Y-yes, Lady Urd," he stammered, getting to his feet. He wobbled slightly, but was able to keep his balance. Before either Urd or Dagur could stop him, he left the area.
Dagur narrowed his eyes at the troll woman as he rose to his feet. "He doesn't deserve that kind of treatment!" he growled. "None of us do!" He barely flinched when a wall of black light surrounded him; it quickly disappeared, nullified by his necklace. He was used to her failed attempts at hurting him by now.
"You are humans," she hissed, "and humans deserve every bit of pain and punishment they get for taking Midgard away from those who were here first. You and Cæna, above all others, deserve the most painful of deaths. But Cæna has proven himself somewhat useful, and so I've spared him. You, however-"
"What makes us more deserving of your hatred than anyone else?" he demanded. "What makes us so special?" He didn't even blink as Urd lunged forward, her large face just as hairsbreadth away from his. She could get no closer, but that didn't mean he wasn't forced to both feel the hotness and smell the wretchedness of her breath.
"What makes you so special?!" She let out a dark, sarcastic laugh. "The two of you are 'special' because you reek with the scent of my wretched niece! Just like her mother, that one: One lover can't satisfy her, so she finds herself two!" Again, she cackled. "Who knows? She may have even more now that the two of you are out of her life!"
"Thora would never-"
Urd snorted. "Your precious Thora is part human and humans are an unfaithful species. I have no doubts that she's already allowed another to share her bed just as you and Cæna have done." She smirked as Dagur's face turned bright red. Then, shaking her head, she started to walk off. "I suggest you get back to work," she told him, malice in her voice. "Wouldn't want your precious Cæna to get hurt because you were slacking, now would we?"
Dagur growled, his jaw aching from how hard he was clenching his teeth. 'Just you wait and see, you hag,' he thought, storming over to the barrel of hides. 'It'll be because of Thora that the two of us will somehow get out of here…'
"You must have misheard her or something."
"I didn't."
"Are you certain? She has a thick accent-"
"Cæna, I know what I heard!" Dagur ran his hands through his hair, pacing in front of Cæna, who sat on his bed with a bowl of mutton stew. "Urd outright said that Thora is her niece and that we smell like her." He finally stopped pacing, instead plopping down beside Cæna. "And that's why she picks on us more than the other slaves…"
Sighing, Cæna rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just hard to imagine that someone like Thora could be related t' someone like Urd." He looked down at his stew, frowning slightly. Not only was it just barely lukewarm, but it was the same stew they had been given for three days. It would make for better pig slop than food for a human. "But at least we now know why she torments us so much."
Dagur nodded, staring up at the ceiling. "She doesn't seem to think very highly of Thora's mom…or any of Thora's family, to be honest."
"Of course she doesn't. She's a swamp troll. They're the most foulest, most vain trolls o' the four breeds." Leaning over, he set the bowl of stew on the floor; just looking at it made him lose what little appetite he had. "And, judging by the size of her nose and her ears, she's ancient."
"Wait…you can tell a troll's age by their ears and nose?"
"Yeah." He laid back, his eyes closing as he rested his head on Dagur's chest. "Thora never told you? The older a troll gets, the larger their nose and ears get."
Unconsciously, Dagur started toying with his hair. "Do you think it applies to Thora, too? I mean, she's only half troll…Maybe one will grow and the other won't?"
"Even if it does, we'd be long dead before any growth became noticeable."
Dagur said nothing in return. Instead, he let out a small sigh and tucked his arm under his head. Though he knew it was inevitable, he didn't like the thought of Thora outliving him and Cæna by centuries.
But did she know that the two of them were still alive? Or at least him; there was no reason at all for her to believe Cæna was alive. He still couldn't quite remember what had happened that led to him ending up a slave, but he knew however it had happened had to have left her thinking him dead.
"Do you think we'll ever get out of here and see her again?" he asked after some minutes.
"You can leave whenever you want thanks to that necklace." Cæna let out a heavy sigh. "I don't think I'll get out here any time soon, though."
Frowning, he opened an eye and looked down at him. "What do you mean, I can leave whenever I want? I can't do that."
"Yes, you can. No one can harm you while you're here. Why you haven't walked out of here and gone back to Thora already is beyond me." He let out a small yelp as Dagur suddenly sat up, forcing him to sit up as well.
"Cæna, look at me." Dagur set his hands on his shoulders when he turned. "I'm not leaving this place without you. I can't leave this place without you. You hear me?"
"You're Thora's husband," he replied, voice quiet as he looked away. "You should leave this place without me so you can be with her. I honestly don't understand why you don't, Dagur. She's already lost me. It's not fair for her to lose you, too."
A quiet sigh left his mouth. "Do you know how many times I woke up to find her a sobbing mess because she had a dream about you? Or how often I see her holding the ring that was supposed to be her engagement ring from you?"
He moved his hands, now holding Cæna's face and gently forcing him to look at him. "She still loves you. Gods, I daresay she still loves you more than she'll ever love me. What do you think she'd do if I returned to her and told her that you were still alive and that you made me leave without you?"
Cæna felt his cheeks growing a bit warm as he glanced down at his lap. "She'd be upset," he murmured. He could feel his eyes starting to sting.
"No. She'd be furious and you know it." He used his thumbs to gently wipe away the first of his tears. "And you damn well know she's not the only reason I haven't left without you."
A small smile came to his lips as he finally brought himself to look Dagur in the eye. "She's just the main reason."
He shook his head. "No. Both reasons are equally important. Just like how both of you are equally important to me." Moving one hand from his face, he wrapped his arm around Cæna's waist, bringing him flush against his body before kissing him. "Don't you think for a second I love Thora more than I love you," he whispered when they parted, "because I love you both the same amount: A Hel of lot."
Cæna rested his forehead against Dagur's, his eyes closed and the smile still on his lips. "Good. Because I love the two of you a Hel of a lot, too."
