Morning always started before the sun rose here. First thing to be done was stoke the fire and get the kettle on for some hot water so it could heat up while more wood was brought in. Vivian would start getting breakfast in order while Jon milked the cow and goats and Iris went outside to feed the dogs with some hot water in their food.

Dogs were an important part of their homestead. Not only did they offer protection and a way to get around with their sled pulling, they were also hunting partners and friends. You couldn't be lonely with a bush dog panting away in your face demanding you pet it.

Today was no different except a red headed stranger sat up on the cot talking to Vivian in Norse. Iris rubbed her eyes, staring at him for a few moments until he looked at her and her brain finally caught up to her automatic movements. Dagur grinned wildly at her and she ran back to her room with a yelp. There was no way she was going to be around him in her PJs.

"How could I forget," she muttered to herself. "I spent most of the night reading that book from front to back. Now one of the main characters villain turned good guy is in my family kitchen!"

Her hair looked wild but she ignored it, snuggling into her thick hand knitted sweater that she loved wearing. It was knitted with the wool from their sheep and dyed a burnt orange, her favorite color. It was her go to sweater in the winter while working around the homestead. Pulling on a pair of lined canvas jeans and thick socks she was ready to go.

She felt shy. Yesterday there had been so much going on that she didn't have time to think but now. Well there was a stranger, granted she knew his story somewhat, in her home that wasn't bad on the eyes. He had always been one of her favorite characters in the book. Now he was talking to her mom with confusion on his face while she peeked around the corner at him.

"You can go in there," Jon said right next to her. Iris screamed and fell into the kitchen scrambling away from her now laughing dad who surprised her.

"Dad you almost gave me a heart attack," she yelled. She took off one of her socks and threw it at him as he continued to laugh. "Mom! Dad's trying to kill me!"

"The dogs are waiting," Vivian just said. She said something in Norse that made Dagur snort. "I'll need your assistance after breakfast to check Dagur's injuries. He refuses to sit still and I can imagine he's pulled a few stitches."

Iris' cheeks flushed as she glanced over at Dagur who was watching her curiously. She darted forward to grab her sock and tug it on. Quickly she threw on her boots, not bothering to tie them, and pulled on her coat and hat. Opening the door she tripped on her bootlaces and fell onto the deck with a grunt while the dogs looked at her with interest.

"I'm okay!" A cold nose poked in her neck. "Ah! Shoo! Get off! Mom! Dad!"

"You're on your own," Jon drawled as he poked her with his foot to close the door but not before he set a hot steaming bucket of water outside for her.

"Mean!"

She got to her feet before another cold nose could poke her and shuffled to a large garden looking shed at the end of the covered porch with her bucket. Five bowls, buckets really, sat neatly in a row. She poured some of the hot water into each bowl before opening the shed. Inside were some stacks of frozen fish and large barrels. A large chunk of wood sat by the door with a hatchet sitting on it.

Quickly she grabbed some frozen fish and hacked them each in half before tossing them in a nearby bucket. In another bucket she scooped brown dog food into and carried both outside the shed. The dogs were watching her eagerly as they waited. A whole fish, hacked in half, was placed in each bucket bowl while a generous scoop of dog food was poured on top. The hot water cooled as the frozen fish thawed in it.

"Go for it," Iris said and the dogs sprang to their feet to claim their bowls. She made a face as the wolfed down the gross mix but tossed a few frozen beef knuckles into the snow for them to find before putting everything away and hurrying inside.

"Cold cold cold," she muttered as she threw open the door and got inside. She rubbed her hands together, blowing on them. "Cold cold cold."

"Iris froze?" a heavily accented voice asked. She looked up to stare at Dagur in shock as he looked at her. "Warm." He pointed at the stove her mom stood in front of.

"Mom?"

"He and your father had a long talk last night," Vivian replied without missing a beat frying eggs and sausages. "He's a fast learner and is picking up English really well. I've been getting asked questions since I got up."

"Eggs," Dagur said proudly as he pointed at Vivian. "Cook."

"Wow." She took off her coat and walked over without bothering to take off her boots. He watched her the entire time. "Dagur?" She pointed at him.

"Ja," he said with a grin. "Iris." He pointed at her.

"Yep."

"Yep?"

"Ja." She giggled at his slight frown that cleared up when her mom spoke. "Dragons?" He just looked at her in confusion. "Um. Be right back!"

Iris ran to her room as her mom yelled at her to take off her boots. She dug under her bed before pulling out a wooden box. Inside was a toy wooden sword, some very old armor made with cardboard, and a handmade dragon that had seen much better days.

"Dragon," she said as she slid back into the kitchen, thrusting it to Dagur."Dragon! Rawr! Fire!"

"Dragon," he said slowly. She nodded eagerly. "Iris?"

"We don't have real ones," she said with a sigh as she plopped down in her chair that was nearest to Dagur. "Only in stories."

"Translating is going to get very irritating very soon," Vivian grumbled as she set a plate down in front of Iris. "I'm going to dig out your old Norwegian language tapes that you never used. He should get the gist listening to those."

"That will be nice," Jon said as he walked in with two buckets. "Smells amazing my Valkyrie."

"Not you too," she groaned as he chuckled. "I blame him. Set the milk over here and I will handle it later. We still have some left from yesterday to drink with breakfast."

"Is our guest going to sit with us or you confining him to the cot?" Jon asked as he pulled a pitcher of milk from the ice box.

"Find him some pants and he can sit at the table," Vivian drawled. "I refuse to sit with a man in his underwear."

"My cue to leave," Iris muttered as she grabbed her plate. At her mother's glare she set it back down. "I'll just step out instead."

"Think he'd fit in a pair of mine?" Jon asked curiously. "Ah! I still have those lounge pants my mom sent for Christmas. Those should fit. They're baggy enough to keep from pulling on his dressings."

Iris waited in the living room as her dad went to get the pants. Vivian was speaking to Dagur in Norse which he replied. His voice was nice to listen to even if she couldn't understand him. Her dad walked back in with a pair of black fleece pants. She looked at her nails, waiting for the all clear to come from the kitchen.

"Finally," she said when her mom called her back in. "Hey that's my spot!"

Dagur looked up at her, his mouth full. She frowned, hands on her hips, before grudgingly walking around the table to sit across from him. He offered her a smile with his mouth full of eggs and she snorted at the sight. Guess it was okay to share her seat.

"I don't want him walking too much," Vivian explained as she set another plate in front of Iris.

"I forgive you," Iris teased.

Throughout the meal Dagur copied Iris after he swallowed his mouthful of eggs. Seeing his reaction to the different foods they had was amusing. She pointedly looked at her dad to say told you so, which he ignored. Vivian offered Dagur some coffee. The man sniffed at it before taking a drink. His face twisted with the look of disgust as the bitter coffee hit his palette. Iris laughed, almost tipping her chair over, as Vivian took the cup and added some cream and sugar before handing it back. He looked at her with suspicion but took a drink at her urging. Surprise brightened his eyes as he took another drink of the now sweeter drink.

"You're mean Mom," Iris gasped as she wiped her eyes. "Why would you give him black coffee? Did they even have coffee in the olden days?"

"I just wanted to see," Vivian muttered. "He acts like he's never seen anything here that you couldn't find in the old world. Its really making me lean towards your theory."

"It's no theory," Iris argued. "Look at the clues! No one saw a plane or heard a plane, his clothes were crazy old fashioned, and how the heck did he get so injured if he didn't go into a freaking explosion? I'm calling it. He's from the story and he was brought here by magic!"

"Magic," he repeated.

"See he agrees!"

"Conspiracies aside," Jon drawled. "He still needs our help and I don't think its in his best interest to go to a hospital where they ask a lot of questions. Say Iris is right. He'll get locked up in a psych ward for talking about riding dragons. He can stay here, get better, and we can learn more about him and what may have actually happened."

"I guess I'll get the language tapes," Vivian groaned. "Jon I'm going to need the house powered up. At least the kitchen."

"After breakfast I'll get to it," he said with a nod. "You two can get him fixed back up and then you young lady can get ready to clean a moose. I gutted it already so you get to skin it and work on butchering it."

"Can do," Iris said brightly.

"You get your knives sharpened," Vivian instructed as Jon left the table. "I'll get the worse of his injuries."

Iris took her plate to the sink and wiped off her hands. She opened one of the drawers and pulled out a pair of long knives and a shorter one. The long pair were as long as her forearm and as wide as the palm of her hand. The short one was as long as her hand but only three fingers wide. All three had been gifts from her grandparents. She grabbed the sharpening stone and went back to her seat to check over them.

Dagur watched with intense curiosity. Given the fact he was a Viking of old who lived with their axes and swords and knives, he should be interested. These were beautiful. She checked one of the knives and hissed as it cut her thumb. Quickly she stuck it in her mouth as Dagur grabbed the knife from her. A dark look sat on his face as he said something to Vivian.

"He says you shouldn't be playing with them," Vivian translated. "Which I agree. You know better than to do something so foolish. Imagine if it went deeper!"

"Sorry Mom." Her face heated up from embarrassment at the two frowning at her.

She tried to take the knife back but Dagur pulled it away. He said something that made her mom nod and take the sharpening stone. He examined the stone before taking it and running the knife across it. All she could do was sit and watch in awe as he expertly sharpened the knife. Wordlessly she handed him the other two at his gesture.

"Not bad," Jon said as he walked in. "I wouldn't let a complete stranger hold onto knives that can slice open a grizzly bear though. Not a good call."

"He got pretty upset when your daughter decided to test her knife like a fool and slice open her thumb," Vivian said. Jon gave Iris a look she pretended not to see. "Either she slices off her thumb or we get a chance to watch an expert. Sorry to save honey, he's better than you."

"Well he can sharpen all the knives," Jon chuckled. "Its not my favorite task and I'm willing to share work."

"Knife," Vivian said when Dagur said something. "Sharp. Mhm."

"Iris," Dagur said. "Knife dangerous. Sharp. Hurt." She flinched as he gestured to his own cut up chest. "Iris hurt Dagur hurt." Well if that wasn't the most adorable thing that made her feel guilty.

"Sorry," she said again. She stared at the table, focusing on a single knot in the wood, until a knife slide into view. Dagur gave her a slight smile as he nodded to the knife. "Thanks. I'm, uh, gonna go out. Got a moose to work on."

Vivian translated for the confused Viking as Iris grabbed the knife and went to put her outside clothes on. She pulled on a pair of lined overalls and shrugged on a thick coat. This time she tied her bootlaces so she wouldn't repeat her ungraceful fall from earlier. A fur lined hat covered her ears and forehead while the rest of her face was covered with a furred muffler. By the time she got her gloves on she was starting to feel overly warm but the feeling would leave once she stepped outside.

With a incoherent mumble she went outside. The dogs perked up at the sight of her. Two got up to trail after her as she made her way to a large shed. This was where they processed their kills and stored them to process later in case of an emergency. Like Dagur falling out of the sky and distracting everyone. Thankfully Jon had gotten the bull moose raised in the air with the old pulley system.

She opened a small fire stove and threw some wood inside. Carefully she coaxed a flame to start on some dry kindling inside of the stove. Some dried grass and dried cattails were added to give it strength. Eventually the small flame grew bigger and began licking eagerly at the dried wood inside.

"There ya go," Iris muttered. "I really should have came out here when I fed the dogs and started up the fire. Color me stupid."

While the fire grew she looked at the moose. He was a big one, his back legs sitting on the ground even with him being hung to the highest point. A few experimental pokes told her he was frozen solid. A blessing and a curse. With him being frozen she could more easily remove his legs. However the meat would be too hard to easily cut through. Skinning was going to be a bit of a nightmare as well.

"Iris?" A voice asked.

She looked back to see Dagur, bundled up with a roughly made crutch, standing in the doorway. She hadn't even heard him walking up. His face was full of awe as he stared at the moose.

"Big," she said with a grin. "Moose."

"Ja," he said with a slow nod. "Hunt?"

"Yep. Dad and I were out hunting and I just got him when you came crashing into the party." She grinned at the half skun monster. "Take a seat and watch!"

She shooed him to take a seat near the stove and continued skinning. The fire warmed the hunting shed and she already took off her coat. One of the dogs was chewing on a hacked off leg near Dagur. They particularly liked chewing on the hooves.

"Once I get him skun I'll hang up his hide," Iris said even though she knew he didn't understand her. "If the meat is still too frozen I'll start scraping the hide until its thawed. Right now all that's important is that it gets cut into more manageable pieces we can cut up as needed. If he was a deer we'd process him all at once but a moose this size we'll store as is when cut down more. When its super cold and we can't do much outside one of us will risk coming out here to bring in a piece to process. Working entertainment."

She continued to speak as she pulled the rest of the hide off and hung it up. As she suspected, the meat was still pretty frozen so she tacked the hide onto the fleshing board and grabbed the fleshing knife. It was a wide two handled blade that was sharp on one side but dull on the other. This gave her the option of slicing off the flesh and fat that still clung to it with the sharp end and just rotating the knife to work the tough hide into a supple state with the blunted end.

"Beautiful," Dagur said suddenly.

"He is isn't he," she said with a grin. "This guy will feed us all, you included, for a good while! Maybe I'll make you a coat with his hide. A welcoming gift!" She looked back to give him a grin as he stared at her in awe. It was nice to see someone appriciate the gifts of the land like her family did.