AN: hello fellow readers, this time i'm not the one to address you all. My friend, Scorpion 6955, has an AN for you all =
-Hey all my loyal readers, I'm sorry for no author notes, up until now. I suppose there is nothing much to say I guess.
Once upon a time… I was rereading the prequel and with all the positive comments that I got from my readers, I thought of making a sequel, even though sequels were never my strong points. Then my account decided to be a complete bastard and forbid me from making any new stories. But the power of fanfiction has shown me that some friendships made here are stronger than any computer virus. So thank you to my host, warorpeace.
Hope you guys are enjoying this story so far and send me ideas, because I'm drawing a blank, right now.
(W)- you can also leave ideas through reviews. Enjoy!
-000-
It was about three in the night, when it happened… Ash would never forget it. She was reading through one of her father's healing books when it happened. When the start of the event that would change hers and everyone around her lives, forever…
From the cloak of darkness, emerged a stranger… coughing, moaning and suffering… he looked to be in too much pain to talk but he uttered two words before collapsing on the floor.
"Help… I…"
-000-
"Come on, help me get him onto the bed." Ash slapped her little brother on the shoulder.
"Urgh… do we have to?" The Outcast moaned as he was awakened from his sleep, on what used to be their father's hammock.
"Hakon!"
"I'm just saying. It's a total stranger. Ever heard of stranger danger?"
"Come on." Ash hit his arm again, only this time with a meaningful look in her eyes.
Her brother grabbed the stranger's shoulders, whilst she took his legs, and carried him to the nearest bed. He was surprisingly light for a fully grown man.
Immediately, the Hofferson began to perform a full check-up on the man. He had dark, cherry hair, with a strange shaven bald patch at the top of his head. He looked to be about 18… 20? Years old. He was surprisingly thin and not very muscularly gifted. Protruding from his chin and upper-lip were the outlines of a growing beard.
Hakon huffed at his appearance. The man looked like he ate bread his whole life and drank nothing but water for his whole life. Thinner than a hiccup (not that there was anything wrong with hiccups).
Ash actually thought he looked quite… handsome?
"What the heck is this?" Hakon was already digging in the stranger's bag. He pulled out a strange necklace, with black beads and at the end a weird cross shaped emblem.
"Hakon, put that down! That's not your stuff!"
"Hey, I'm the Chief's brother and he's a foreigner who stumbled on the island, without a known place of origin, so far. I literally have the right to paint his face with pink paint if I want to."
She ignored him, and continued with her work. She couldn't find any obvious wounds on him. "What's wrong with him?" She voiced her thoughts, as he let loose a moan of agony, in his sleep.
"Oh, judging by his travelling stuff, his brain." Hakon said absent minded, emptying the travelling bag. "No food, no money, no clothes, no weapon, just this emblem thing and a big book that isn't in Norse, so we have no idea what it even is."
"What part of foreigner don't you understand?" Ash snapped at him. Another pained moan from the traveller. An idea snapped in her mind. "Help me turn him over."
Hakon whined like a child, but consented anyway. He did not like this guy already, but judging by the look on his sister's face, he was going to be… a permanent fixture in their lives.
They flipped his body on the bed, and ripped the clothes off his back… the sight was something that would never wipe away from her memory…
It was a battlefield. A disaster on human flesh. Earthquakes of blood everywhere. It must have been a whip's work. No… not a whip's… a very cruel human's… a savage Viking's, for he was beginning to be Blood Eagled.
"Whoa." Was all Hakon managed to say, seeing the sight before him. In all Viking History, no one had escaped after being Blood Eagled. He had probably experienced intensive, raw, guttural pain… it was… awesome.
Ash had no time for awe comments. She grabbed some jars and bottles from the shelves, shackled the stranger's hands, put a piece of wood in between his teeth and started the nerve-wrecking and horrifying procedure of healing.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to do my work."
"But… no one survives a Blood Eagle."
"Well, he managed this far." And she poured an ointment on his back. And he screamed. And she hated herself for it.
-000-
Later that day, he would wake up and ask questions in the little Norse that he knew, and he would tremor in fear of them… for he approached them peacefully and it was their people that did this to him…
-000-
PLEASE REVIEW, even if this story is a hundred years old.