2. Captured

"Wake up!" Said a voice abrupt and stern, the young woman's eyes shot open to see several scruffy men staring at her, they were wild and looked similar to the men of her village, but kindness did not show in their eyes instead fear and coldness. "Don't ye have a mouth child?" Said an older one with a scarred eye and grey locks. "Maybe she be mute." "Aye, could be but her face says all." "We bring her to Ofrasaa?" "Aye, she'll know what to do with the waif." "She is of the Ragnarsson clan, look at the brooch at her neck." "Aye, but the Ragnarsson's are a brutal lot and unforgivable." "My people aren't." She said surprising them and herself. "And missy ye spake at last, what bring ye here?" "New land that's what brought my people here, we be starving sir." She said politely her voice lilting with fear. "We take her to the witch, then she shall be judged for the deeds of her people, what be your name young miss?" "Njalla Ragnarsson, daughter of Einar Ragnarsson. But we haven't committed any crimes against ye." She said as convincingly as she could, but to no avail, they continued to half carry and half drag her deep into the forest, the dark emerald trees closing behind them. She did not struggle or anything while they carried her, the first one who did was a burly man with a thick brown beard and wild eyes like the rest, at first he carried her over his shoulder soon she was dizzy and struggled so like a papoose he tied her to his back.

They stopped for brief intervals to rest, water and relieve, the men starred at her, some young and without wives couldn't get enough and looked hungrily at her curvy body. "Freya's beauty." said the young one with beginning of stubble on his cheek and freckles, his green eyes were kind. He walked next to her for awhile, trying to talk to her, and cheer her up. "Lassie, what are you called?" He asked her, she blushed at looked down slightly. "I'm Njalla." She said shyly and with a reddish tinge to her cheeks. "Njalla what a beautiful name it suits you." "What about you sir?" Njalla asked looking up slowly into his kind eyes. "Ah I'm Heath Horrendous Haddock, but they call me Hiccup, as a stupid joke." Heath shot her a grin that lit up his whole face. They tried to keep talking, she tried to tell him of her village but the grief was too fresh for her to speak of it and it seemed that she had lost some of the memory of it from her traumatic experience. He sensing her grief spoke little, until another burly man elbowed him hard. "Hiccup, ye won't get the lassie that way she's too good for the likes of ye." the burly man with wild red hair, as he reached over and rubbed Njalla's cheek and pinched her bum on the side. Njalla shrieked and gave him a dark look, causing a chorus of laughter from the others and a dark look from Heath to the red haired man. "See that young Lokran, he knows womenfolk better than Hiccup." "My names Heath besides she deserves better than you lot." "Oh a little lizard loves the prisoner, shall you challenge Ofrasaa boy when the time comes?" One man said with a thick black beard, trying to intimidate Heath. He didn't back down he glared back. "I'm a man in this village and I'm heir to the Cheiftan Ithar, her life is mine." Heath declared. Njalla blushed and hide her face, already she liked the young man. Heath looked at her and winked, they exchanged smiles and he did his best looking after her.

Soon they reached a good sized village with a port, and longships, much Njalla's dismay she saw one of her fleets' ships impaled on one and the loot filled their ship, a tear ran down her cheek. She was truly lost now. All of the people had come out to see what the men had brought back and were surprised to see the young woman tied up and being carried. She saw women her age with children looking up at her, old women sitting and watching, children pointing. She certainly was the main attraction. They set her down on a raised wooden platform with a carving of Frig and Odin upon it. Njalla fought the urge to fight her bindings and attempt to escape. All the village crowded around to watch her, Njalla had never felt so small as she did then, it scared her all their eyes. Then she heard a rattling, and turned to face the stone awning on the east side of the platform, an ancient woman wearing a bearskin cloak and a great dragon spear emerged, her hair white and wild, her eyes pale blue but sparkling with an almost anger, she climbed up and shook her talisman. "This is the daughter of our enemy!" She shrieked. "Washed up on our shore." Her old voice breaking, soon she turned and began to check Njalla, pulling at her hair and clothing. "You are the daughter of the chief?" "Yes, I am Njalla Ragnarsson." She spoke softly but strong. "I'm Ofrasaa shaman of the Berkistaad Village, tell me your age." "16 summers almost 17." "A young woman, last of her kind. Your filth burned and destroyed our land for the past 70 years, you shall pay." "Shaman Ofrasaa I have done nothing to your people, I do not know them and haven't committed any offense to ye. On behalf of my people please forgive me." Njalla spoke eloquently, and with strength. "The only way to atone for such crimes you must pay yourself, I lingering one I think, since your name means night dragon, perhaps that shall rule you. Bring her at moon set before all and you shall see what we do to our enemies!" Ofrasaa shrieked and cackled with delight, some villagers cheered others floored by what they witnessed, where was their chief? Only he had the power to decided that. Then Heath stepped forward. "Ofrasaa I challenge this ruling, I speak for her life!" Heath said a loud his voice clear and strong. Ofrasaa turned around in surprise, all the villagers were silent know spoke, not even the smallest babe in arms cried. "You Heath Horrendous Haddock, son of Ithar Mjollanjir Haddock, speak for this creature?" She spat the word as if even just speaking of anything about Njalla was disgusting. Njalla looked around with frightened and wide eyes, trying to keep her regal and ruler's pose. "Yes I speak for her, as my father's heir, I ask you to call on the runes and let the Gods decide." "Just because your late mother, Ingagrid was shaman doesn't mean you can invoke the rights of whom I may call." "If Thor were to agree, where is the thunder and ringing of his hammer, or are they displeased that we are to curse a woman because of her people, have we not fought and won in battle with them naught but two days before. He would be displeased for a woman clearly descended from his daughter Freya to be treated this way." Heath said, his voice was clear and strong, Njalla found her heart beating at this. "Only your father may call this but you may not, Heath you are a leader in this village but not the Chieftain." Ofrasaa said as if to threaten. "What will you do with her keep her as wife when you have been promised to young Stina? An enemy as a second wife." She snorted in displeasure, trying to get others to laugh at him. Heath held his ground, Stina was clearly another matter. Njalla knew it was lost she was an enemy and would be punished for her people's actions. Heath could do no more, if his father decided this was best he couldn't argue, but the matter still had to be brought to him.

A clamor of doors and bells was heard everyone turned to see Ithar the Strong emerge out of the long house, his beard flowing and horned helmet glittering he was a powerful figure. He marched up the platform his steps making the ground shake. "Ofrasaa I command you to read the runes." He bellowed before standing near his son, he carried a great spear with a bronze tip. Ofrasaa could only throw the runes in a mute nod on the platform, even she feared the leader, but she could work the situation for her purposes. She looked down at the runes scattered about on bone tiles, her gnarled hand picked one up, her pale blue eyes lit up and a plan formulated as the cackle escaped her lips. "Oi woman what does it say?" yelled Ithar. "She is to be cursed for 200 years as Loki demands in payment, his serpent of the sky will take her form, in drage shall be its name." She said ending in a cackle, Ithar was thinking, Njalla knew the curse one most feared in all Vikings except the Poison Sea and denial of Vahalla. All the villagers were murmuring, fear struck them hard. Ithar finally spoke "Let the gods judgement be final." There was a chorus of yelling and cackling, with one deft motion and quick lie, Njalla was to be cursed.

She was carried away in the crowd, she could see Heath's face disappearing as they carried her away, it was entrenched pain etched in his handsome face. They brought her to a storeroom where they tore her clothes, and put a white chemise on her, for modesty, and bound her delicate hands up, all the while hitting and kicking her. Njalla didn't cry or anything but was emotionless, they couldn't break her, despite everything she wouldn't cry. They left her in the storeroom house, her mind racing, not even processing what happened to her.