Chapter 4) Piglet
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Ivar decided to call the dark skinned slave Piglet. Because not even the many layers of rags, could conceal the stench of old sweat, animal furs and poor personal hygiene. Mud, grime and fried out animal feces clayed around her bare feet like a poor man's shoes.
To give her byname even more meaning, Piglet's mother tongue was an incomprehensible language, far different from Dietsc. Most tones came from the back of her throat; too guttural for humans and way too heavy for such a scrawny little bitch. It made Ivar wonder if Piglet was a descendant of the Huldra; wardens of the forest. With all those layers that Piglet wore, it was easy to hide the long cow-like tail and bark covered backs that all Huldra had.
What kind of irony would that be, such forest spirits to be enslaved by mankind. Almost as ironic as a Viking prince being sentenced into a live of slavery among Christians.
A piece of bread made Ivar snap from his morose thoughts. As the small chunk dropped into his lap, his body reacted immediately. Hunger makes hard beans taste sweet and Ivar devoured the small bit of food.
Piglet tore off another piece and threw it at him, hiding safely behind her makeshift line. When Ivar held out his hand for a third bit, their eyes crossed for a moment in a shared form of misery; both were hungry but there was hardly enough bread for one.
She broke it off and disappeared behind the border of the stable's box. Ivar heard her feed the animals. It made him gnash his teeth; apparently feeding him stood close in line with feeding the cattle.
Once finished with her early tasks, she threw him a half eaten apple. It wore her teeth marks and she was still loudly chewing when Ivar reached for the fruit. He threw her a glare, then his stomach rumbled and Ivar was painfully aware that maintaining his pride was a luxury he could not afford. Dejectedly, he snatched the apple from the ground, wiped off the hay and sank his teeth into the apple.
The sound of keys being jammed into a lock, startled them both. The Giant appeared in view, causing Piglet to hurry up onto her feet. The Giant spat a word in Dietsc at her before fixing his expression on Ivar. Beady grey eyes took in the poor state of his latest purchase. A flash of satisfaction glinted in the Giant's eyes when Ivar struggled to keep himself up into a sitting position. That contentment changed in a blink of an eye when the Giant noticed the remains of Ivar's apple.
The Giant backhanded Piglet, the force of the blow so overwhelming it caused her to stagger backwards. Clutching her face, Piglet wasn't able to see the next strike coming. Her legs were kicked from under her feet, she dropped down on her side, quickly curling up in case more violence would launch itself down upon her. Whimpering, she pleaded some words in Dietsch, satisfying the Giant for now. The man barked an order and nudged his head towards Ivar. With an emotionless, toothless smile he repeated the order, slower this time.
When Piglet remained a beaten down statue, he grasped the back of her neck and jerked her on her feet. For the third time, the order was spat at her while the Giant craned her neck in Ivar's direction.
Piglet nodded silently, a red welt forming on her cheek. Skittishly, she kept her arms cautiously close to her face. It visibly pleased the Giant to see his slave fear every move he made. The grip around her neck eased and Piglet dropped back on her knees.
Heathen was an universal word for pagans, it was the only word Ivar could pick up from the Giant's snarls as the man changed his focus onto Ivar and cracked his knuckles. Ivar braced himself on the floor; if the Giant would want to beat the life out of him, it would be a quick and easy fight.
But the Giant left without another word, without keys locking the stable back up.
Piglet rapidly regained strength in her legs and disappeared through the open door and returned with a bowl and two headless chickens. From a safe distance, Piglet started plucking the first chicken, starting with the tail feathers. After a few handfuls, she held up the decapitated bird and pointed at Ivar.
In response, Ivar let out a cold, empty chuckle. Did that savage creature seriously think he would willingly perform chores for Christians? Even in his poor state, Ivar would rather meet his maker than become one of those meek sheeps he'd seen at the slave market.
Piglet somehow mistook his chuckle for consent and she threw the chicken at his feet, followed by the wooden bowl.
Piglet's reflexes were spot on, she dodged the dead bird and bowl with ease as Ivar threw them right back at her. Offended, Piglet spat in Ivar's direction and threw her eyes up skywards, uttering a throaty vowel in her mother's tongue. Picking the chicken and bowl back up, she placed them both on Ivar's side of the makeshift borderline.
It was clear what she wanted him to do and it was clear that he made zero effort into doing so. Frustrated, Piglet stormed off, leaving Ivar in his own pool of utter frustration.
Hours went by without human contact. The flock of chickens returned, dumbstruck to find one of their peers without a head, stiff and lifeless. Clucking, the birds pecked a few times at the neck of their dead congener, but when the result remained fruitless, the chickens made Ivar their next target. He'd drifted back asleep and was brutally awoken by feisty beaks digging into the flesh of his bare feet.
For a second time, Ivar flung his inadequate legs towards the flock. The chickens cackled, fluttering their wings in panic, but quickly learned that the new intruder wasn't much of a threat. For the rest of the time, the chickens stayed to bother him, pecking his limbs every time he drifted back into much needed sleep. When Ivar eventually caught one of the bastards and broke its neck, the rest of the flock finally scattered off.
A wave of freezing water soaked Ivar to the bone; for a moment he relived the night during the storm, the traumatic event made him whimper and momentarily cut off his air supply.
"Yallah, yallah!" The alien words of Piglet made Ivar's painful memories fade away. An empty bucket clattered onto the floor.
"Yallah!" Angered the wildling stomped with her bare feet, gesturing at the unplucked chickens.
Ivar wiped the water from his face and narrowed his eyes: "you can stomp until you break both of your feet, but I'm not going to comply and serve a Christian," he spat the last word with all the venom he could muster.
Piglet did not understand his words, but the intonation and complete lack of movement made it clear the stubborn thorn in her eye wasn't going to fulfill his task.
She cursed at him, even a deaf man was able to comprehend the venom Piglet spilled in her native language; her blood was boiling. It pleased Ivar to at least be able to drive someone up the wall; even if she was nothing more than a slave, Piglet was the enemy. A meek and obedient Christian servant, therefore foe.
When Ivar laughed at her, Piglet threw her hands up in the air in defeat and disappeared from Ivar's view. He heard her footsteps climb a ladder, fleeing to the loft above the stable.
Very pleased with himself, Ivar shifted, immediately brought back down to earth; now that he'd lost his braces, his legs were growing stiff and they ached continuously. The hay granted him a little bit of comfort, but he was still sitting on a cold floor of dirt.
Dusk settled. Ivar was bored, uncomfortable, in pain, hungry, thirsty and cold. For a good part of the day he'd tried to squirm his ankles out of the shackles. He'd scraped his skin raw and bloody until he'd howled in frustration. He half expected the Giant or another overseer to march in to silence him, but no-one came. No-one was bothered by his frustration, no-one cared for his discomfort and aches.
To keep himself occupied, Ivar called out for the wildling upstairs: "Piglet, bring me food, I'm starving," he ordered, rattling his chains when there came no response.
"Piglet? Piglet… PIGLET!" he shouted, pleased when footsteps hurried closer.
Piglet was not amused, her brows deeply furrowed and her index finger pressed firm against her lips.
"Ah, there you are," Ivar stated and rubbed his stomach, "now serve me. I want food, you understand? Food?" He brought his hand to his lips to illustrate his order.
Piglet was not impressed, nudging her head towards the unplucked chicken while giving him a long meaningful stare.
Ivar snorted and leaned his head back against the wall: "forget it Piglet, you might be a slave, but I'm not. I will never do as I'm told, not by you, not by the Giant and not by anyone else in this godforsaken country." Ivar lectured proudly.
Piglet merely pointed at the chicken and tapped the side of her scalp when Ivar refused to move.
"Hamar," she spoke, shaking her head frustrated, "hamar!"
And so Ivar went to sleep with hunger and thirst and a growing resentment towards Piglet.
During the next morning, the same ritual as the day before carried out. The Giant was furious over Ivar's defiance and took it out on Piglet. Ivar wondered why the colossus didn't take his anger out on him, but given Ivar's poor state, he might not survive another beating.
Piglet had trouble sitting up and had her back turned towards Ivar. When she turned at last to face him, there were no traces of tears, she must have used those up a long time ago. Without acknowledging Ivar's presence, Piglet wrapped her bandana tightly around her scalp and pressed a few black matted curls underneath the fabric. A sigh, followed by a few more. Piglet shifted on all fours and pressed her forehead down onto the sandy floor.
"Allahu akbar," her voice cracked a little, "Allahu akbar," she spoke again, the words turning into a humble chant, soft and fragile.
Ivar took in the entire ritual in silence, his ribs were killing him and his lungs seemed to have filled themselves with water; ironically so, since his tongue and mouth felt bone dry.
"To what God are you praying to Piglet?" Ivar questioned then coughed, hackling and wheezing.
The devotee did not respond, instead continued praying which included a series of movements; from sitting up to bowing down; her head resting on the sandy floor.
When her moment of solemnity ended and she sat back up; her shoulders straightening, her eyes less rigid and wild.
"Subhan Allah" Piglet whispered, her dark eyes radiated a fierce, overwhelming devotion, "Allah," craning her head back she whispered: "Allahu akbar."
Ivar licked his parched lips and hummed, intrigued. "you're not a Christian?"
Her dark eyes narrowed into slits as she heard him speak. Snorting, she spat on the floor, shaking her head.
"Christian," she spoke scrunching her face up as if she'd been forced to eat something vile and rotten. "Hijabi,"she said, proudly tapping on her chest, "Muslim."
Piglet rose gracefully, barefoot and dirty, the young woman headed off to endure another day of poverty, hard labour and humiliation. But with her shoulders straight and her chin tilted high.
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A/N: His days of being fed with a silver spoon are over and if he doesn't learn fast he'll starve to death. But Ivar is a tough cookie to break. In case some of your reading fear that Piglet will make Ivar OOC due to the fact that she's from the opposite sex, fear not. I have no intention to make Ivar fall madly in love with her with rainbows, stars and unicorns.
Little side information, a Huldra is a forest creature from Scandinavian folklore; a forest spirit. I like to add little bits and pieces of Scandianavian folklore/ Viking/ Religion into the story because I feel those are the things Ivar would believe in.
Xoxoxo Nukyster