The Berserkers sailed back to their island and Oswald and Dagur had an almost eerie silence between them. Captain Vorg called to them, "Chief, we're docking now." The ruler gave him a nod and kept his gaze fixated on the glorious oceans that laid before him. The pulled into the Berserker Island shores causing him to sigh, descending into them and being greeted by adoring vikings.
Father and son went to their house and Dagur started practicing his accuracy with throwing knives. There was a picture, he had drawn, that he used for a target. A blade hit the portrait in its eye,"Bull's eye!" the little boy laughed. Oswald groaned at the sound and went to the kitchen. He noticed the lack of fish and went back to his son. "Dagur, go to the docks and buy two Trouts." he took the boy's hand and replaced another knife with some copper coins. Oswald nearly, shoved him out the door.
Scowling, Dagur went to proceed with the errand, "Why can't he ever go? I was training. It's not like he was doing anything important." he fumed. The Berserker made his way to the fishermen, "Can I have two Trouts?" he asked. A fisher nodded and exchanged the coins with him. "Thanks." he said, and rushed to get back to the hut.
Dagur sensed that he was being followed and excelerated his pace. "Almost there." he thought, hopefully, "Just a little mor-" something caught his legs, tying them together. He looked and saw that he had been caught by a bolas. Grabbing one of his knifes, he, quickly, went to cut himself free. Another bolas came and tied his arms to his side. He was hit from behind, knocking him to the ground.
A large boot stepped onto his back and pushed him into the dirt. "Ay, Dainty. What're ya up to today?" Dagur heard. He turned his head away from the earth and raised his eyes to the viking preventing his return. On top of him, stood Ansson the Abominable-a large, redheaded viking. "What's...it to..you?" Dagur huffed out, the viking's weight was squeezing air out of him.
Ansson smiled, "I can't be curious about my young friend's activities?" His focus went to the bag Dagur carried. He yoked it off the boy and examined the contents. "Hey!" the little Berserker managed to say. "I was wondering what I wanted for dinner!" Ansson stated, enthusiastically. He started eating the fish as it was, and quite savagely. "What?" he asked, seeing Dagur's disgusted expression, "You don't know how real vikings eat? Watch and learn."
"What else've you got?" Ansson lifted the boy off the ground by the ropes and dangled him, searching him for any other item. He found the remaining coins, "Just copper? Are ya holding out on me, Dainty?" The large viking brought his fist down like a sledgehammer on the boy's head and Dagur growled at the other viking. A knee went into his stomach, causing him to curl over.
"You've got to have more than this. Go home and bring some of your ol' man's." he ordered. Dagur glared at him and then smiled, "Sure. Mind untying me first?" he requested. Ansson drew his sword and raised it above his head. The little boy resisted a flinch as the guy brought the weapon down to him. It was not a perfect cut, or perhaps, it was. The slice cut the bolas off Dagur, but it drew some of his blood as well.
A small yelp escaped the boy's lips and Ansson chuckled in response. Dagur went into his hut and bolted the door. He laughed, triumphantly and crazily. "What's all this noise about, Dagur?" Oswald questioned, coming into the entrance way. Briefly, he looked the young boy over, "Where's the fish?" He crossed his arms over his chest. Dagur's visage went cold, "Ansson. He took the fish and the coins." "Well, go ask him to give them back."
The boy cackled, "You're kidding! Go back out there? And ask?! Good one, Dad." Oswald's face remained stern, "I am serious, Dagur. I want those back, but you know that I don't condone violence. Asking is the best option." His son looked at him, dumbfounded. He kept opening his mouth and closing it, unsure of how to respond. Finally, he discovered his words, "First off, Ansson's not one to reason with. The fish are gone anyway. He ate them. If you'd let me get a weapon of my own, then I could get the things back."
"I will not allow you, of all people, to go around my village armed. Who knows how much carnage would occur?" Oswald mentioned, rising from his chair, "Now, go." Dagur frowned at him, "Kind of putting me at a disadvantage, don't you think?" The chief did not make a remark and only pointed to the exit.
Dagur huffed and unbolted the door. "Maybe I should take some coins and slit Ansson's wrinkly throat with them." he mused. As he opened the door, he saw Ansson with a battering ram. "Dainty, you did come back. Thought I'd have to let myself in." He dropped the ram and eyed Dagur up and down, "Well, where're the coins?" Dagur squared his shoulders, "I didn't get any." he took a deep breath, "I want to ask if you'd return the coins."
Ansson roared with laughter, "Everyone! Our future chief is, politely, requesting that his belongings be returned." he bellowed, in a mocking tone. There was a mixture of chuckles from the younger vikings and looks of disappointment from the older ones. "I ain't givin' you back a darn thing, Dainty. At least be berserk enough to challenge me for them. I thought, if nothing else, you'd be crazy enough for that."
Ansson took a step towards Dagur, "Guess I'll have to show you what happens to peaceful vikings." He punched at Dagur and missed. The boy was pretty quick, so Ansson changed tactics and drew his weapon again, "My blade's faster than you are. Keep still and you won't be minced meat." Dagur looked at the weapon then back at Ansson, "Is he right? Would he be faster with his weapon? Only one way to find out." he thought, as a deranged twinkle came into his eyes.
Dagur sent a fast kick into the inside of Ansson's left knee, making the viking stumble some. The viking slashed his weapon and cut air. The copper caught Dagur's eye, but Ansson's sword swung at him when he got close enough to take the coins. The boy dodged around more hits and Ansson did a sweep kick, taking Dagur's legs from beneath him.
Ansson sat on top of him and punched him across his face multiple times. Dagur brought his hands up to block and tried to get the viking off of him, but failed at the latter. He spat a baby tooth-that had been punched out-at Ansson and his blade was put to Dagur's throat as he rose himself from the ground. He sent kicks into the boy's ribs, the sword keeping him at bay.
Grabbing him by his braid, Ansson lifted the boy off the ground and slashed his stomach. He raised him a bit higher and body slammed him back down. "You're not even a good viking. You'll never be a Berserker chief." Ansson walked away, proudly, and his adoring fans looked in awe at his "greatness". As Ansson disappeared from view, the crowd's focus went to Dagur.
The boy felt heat rise in his cheeks and he, painfully, rose himself to a standing position. He went into his hut and up to Oswald. Glaring, he flung the copper coins onto his table. "You got them?" Oswald asked, wide-eyed. "I have fast hands. You'd know this if you ever paid attention to me when I'm not running your errands." Dagur told him, bitterly. He started to walk away and Oswald got up from his chair, "I pay attention," he began, "to what is important."
Dagur balked and continued to walk. He went to the washroom and cleaned his wound and bruises. "'I pay attention to what is important.'" he quietly, mocked. He let out a low, roar in fury. "He wouldn't know what or who's important if it came flying in on a dragon." He saw his reflection in the water. He looked a lot like his father. Besides the hair color, he was the spitting image of Oswald when he was little.
Dagur splashed the water to get rid of the image. His throat grew sore and he felt his eyes burn. Quickly, he washed his face and stormed up to his room. "One day," he thought, "I'll be chief and no one will be able to tell me what to do or that I'm not good enough. They'll even want to listen. I'll be the best Berserker anyone's ever seen and they'll be ashamed of themselves for how they treated me."