Chapter One - A War that never ends
No sound could be heard on that foggy and pale day. The silent waves of the sea came crushing the shore in a repetitive melody, yet always sounding different. Only ravens could be seen outside. They stood on dead looking white trees, scanning the horizon with their empty looking eyes. And after a brief moment of shock, they all flew away without any crowing.
The reason of their departure was the sudden appearance of odd looking ships piercing the mist. One by one, they all accosted on the dead beach. And one by one, every of their occupants jumped out of them to enter in contact with the foreign land. Vikings.
The drakkars had the advantage of being silent boats. Silent, and fast. Like their men.
Ragnar observed a moment the landscape around him, then looked at his brother, Rollo. He had gotten out his sword and a shield. Though the shield wasn't meant to be used by him. He handed it to Ragnar, who thanked him by a swift head twitch.
Without any sound, the Vikings climbed their way up the white cliffs that were surrounding the beach. All that could be heard was the clicking of metal, swords and armours. They were very little, though. It was easier for fighting and Vikings did not fear death. None of them.
They didn't need to walk very far. As they had reached the top, a village stood before them. The raid could begin. Ragnar grinned at Rollo, and he saw his lips twitch into a smile. They both loved raiding foreign villages, and the fun was to begin.
What had awoken Gudrun was the screaming. The loud, inhuman screaming. She hardly opened her eyes and suddenly felt her whole body hurt. She couldn't move her arms, though she knew they were tied. Her legs hurt too, she could almost hear her muscles scream. But the worst was her back. She knew it was full of bruises and red marks. The beatings got worse every night, when the innkeeper came drunk and tired. She found no way to escape.
One day, Gudrun's father had been playing too long at the well-known inn. He had lost too much and had to pay. He had told everyone he had nothing, then they had stabbed him. And as they needed payment, they had stolen his daughter. The innkeeper had said that she could be sold as a slave or as a whore. It was pretty much the same thing to Gudrun's eyes. They hadn't dishonoured her since she would be more expensive if a man hadn't touched her yet, but they didn't stop beating her. Every night.
She ate the leftovers of the inn, which were often sour beer and dirty meat. But it was enough.
When the door opened with a loud bang as if someone had destroyed it, she had no force to get away. Plus, she couldn't. She just let herself fall on the ground, blinded by the bright light that pierced the usual darkness. She could distinguish a tall silhouette, foreign to her eyes. The man cut the rope she was tied to and gruffly threw her on his shoulder, carrying her as a dead pig.
Gudrun had no force to fight, so she concentrated on detailing the man now she could see better. He was taking her outside, and she marvelled at the fresh wind she hadn't felt on her face for so long... The man was very tall as she had seen earlier. In fact, he was the tallest of all the men that surrounded him. He had dark brown hair and a beard, and deep brown eyes that made her shiver. She could feel his strong hand on her waist, holding her close to him. He had a beautiful face, but for the moment the droplets of blood (which obviously weren't his own) on his jaw left her more frightened than amazed.
"Rollo." said a blonde man with the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen.
Rollo. It was probably his name. She tried to keep it in her memory, since she knew she didn't speak their tongue.
They spoke a few words that she didn't understand, then Rollo took her off of his shoulder to lay her rather gently, for such a man, on the cold wooden floor of their boat. Vikings.
She knew who they were. And she feared them.
Yet, her fate with them would be far more enjoyable if they didn't kill her. So she waited.
The trip back to their land seemed to take forever. Gudrun's sides hurt, so she stayed curled in a ball at the end of the ship. She noted she wasn't with the other prisoners. They were either in the hold, or on the other end. She was alone, and she felt rather thankful for that. Some men that had been captured were not from her friends, rather the inverse of friends.
At a moment when she woke up from a fragile sleep, the Viking with the bright blue eyes came to her level and knelt at her side. He looked at her for a long time, detailing her. He stayed silent, and she could almost see the gears in his brain working. He then spoke her a sentence in her language that startled her:
"Who did this?"
She didn't answer at first. He was pointing at her bruises and her cuts. A warm wind rushed in her lower belly. A wind of anger. She pointed at the other prisoners, where she recognised the innkeeper.
"Them."
Ragnar's lips twitched into a smile.
"Why?"
The Viking's sentences were always very simple. His words were tainted of an accent from his own language, which was rather beautiful to her ears.
"They're men. You should know." she answered too harshly to be polite. She was testing the north man, even though she knew it could be dangerous. But what did she have to loose?
"We don't treat our women like that." he answered, rolling the "r" of "treat" on purpose. He smiled again, more sadly.
"Once, a man tried to rape my wife. She killed him."
His expression was empty and terrifying. Gudrun understood now why the Vikings were feared and admired. No one was like them.
"Would you want to do the same?" he asked again.
She weakly nodded, not realising what she had just done.
Ragnar got up and offered his arm for her to get on her feet. She looked at him with fear but she also was terribly embarrassed at her weak form. He handed a sword to her, and that was now she realised all of the Vikings of the ship were watching her with wonder. She felt the cold leather of the handle weigh in her hand. The sword was very long, and its steel was glinting with the lights from the pale misty sky. It was heavy.
Ragnar told her:
"Which one?"
She pointed at the innkeeper, whose eyes suddenly began to glint with fear. Two strong men brought him before her. He looked now so vulnerable. She had the power.
But she knew what the Vikings were waiting for. They wanted her to take a human life, as they had done with already so many of her people. A part of her dreaded for his blood, wanted to see it spilled on the floor. However, she knew she couldn't. It was impossible.
"If you kill this man, you are free."
They all waited but she did no move. Instead, a few minutes later, they saw the sword fall from her weak hands and they heard the clinking of steel. She would not kill him. Rollo, Ragnar's brother that had earlier carried her on his shoulder, took the sword from the floor and looked deeply in her eyes. She saw anger, and nothing else. He was beautiful and frightening. Without looking at the man, with a swift movement of the arm, he plunged the steel deep into his throat. Gudrun looked away but still heard the gurgling and the weeping of some prisoners. Rollo gave the sword back to his brother and looked back at Gudrun.
"Weak..." he whispered only for her to hear. She swallowed her fear.
They all walked away, leaving her only with Ragnar, Rollo, and the corpse of the innkeeper.
"I am sorry." said Ragnar. He really looked sorry.
"But you are still slave."
When the ships stopped at a land, Gudrun found it very beautiful. It was very green, full of pine trees and moss. The shore next to a village, a bit similar from her own. She saw a big bunch of women and men waiting on the beach, greeting their heroes with screams and shouts of joy. When they all got down, she was amazed by the tenderness of some big and strong men who were just reunited with their family. They kissed their women passionately, sometimes it were women who were on the raid who kissed their husbands. The children were playing with some of the riches that were taken down of the boats, then chased playfully by their fathers of siblings.
She particularly liked Ragnar's family. Lagertha, his wife, had been coming with him, so their children had been kept by a man who didn't look Viking at all. He was not muscular and small compared to the other men. Yet, he seemed friendly and trustworthy. He was also greeted by Ragnar, as a friend would be. They had two children, rather silent compared to the others, but she kind of liked them.
She wondered how she could care more about those barbarians than her own people when they were pillaged. But she found that when she had been stolen, no one had cared about her. No one had tried to buy her back, to get her back by any means. Now her father was dead, she was alone. It was those Vikings that had delivered her of her torture. She would be a slave, yes, but what could be worse than being sold as a whore to violent and dirty men?
Vikings were violent. But strangely, they were also kind and caring.
Gudrun noticed that the only person who seemed to be laughing more than the actual children were Ragnar's brother. Rollo was playing with Björn and Gyda, laughing and throwing them in the air. He was on his back with Björn on him when Ragnar coughed.
He looked startled, then a bit ashamed, though he ruffled through Björn's hair and kissed Gyda on the cheek.
He then took the rope that was holding Gudrun's wrists together.
"You. Mine." he growled.
He pulled her with him, probably where he lived.
Gudrun guts were tightened with fear. She didn't know what he was going to do to her, since he seemed much less nice than his brother. However, he wasn't taking her to his house. They were going into the village, and entered a strange looking shack. The inside was dark and it smelled like it was full of dust and death. Apparently, Rollo neither didn't like the place. He was frowning in disgust at the cloaked figure that was sitting in the middle of the small room. He pointed the seat facing the silhouette to Gudrun, who hardly sat.
"What is your name?" asked in a croaky voice the person who seemed very old.
"Gudrun."
The elderly choked on air at this answer. Even Rollo looked struck.
"Gudrun?" repeated the figure. "It is a Viking name. How did you get it?"
"My mother was from the north."
"From where?"
"I don't know. I only know the name of the village."
"Tell."
"Kattegatt."
Neither Rollo or the elderly answered. They both stood and went outside. She stayed sitting alone, feeling very weak and very tired. She almost drifted back into sleep when the two Vikings came back. Rollo's face was empty of emotion, but the heat around him let her guess that he had been through a hard conversation.
"Age?"
"Seventeen."
"Hair colour?"
"Black. Can't you see?" she replied.
The elderly lifted his cloak and she was shocked to see he had no eyes. She shivered and she also felt from Rollo a reluctance to look at the man. He put his cloak back into place then wickedly smiled at Gudrun.
"For the sight."
She looked at him with wide eyes, now very aware that this person was special to the clan. Still, she didn't trust him.
"Eye colour?" he said sarcastically.
"Blue."
"Size?"
"I don't know... Average..."
"Are you ill often?"
"No..."
"Are you pure?"
"I beg your pardon?" she asked in amazement. She felt Rollo's eyes on her.
"Have you ever been with a man?"
"No... But..."
The man waited.
"I was beaten and... I wish I'll never be with a man if it is like that."
"Show me."
She was afraid she knew what was meant by "show me". If the elderly had no way to see with his eyes, she had to make him touch her... And this idea repulsed her. She reluctantly took her top off, not knowing from who she should hide. She didn't want Rollo to see her breasts, and though the man couldn't, she felt he could still see them. She quickly hid them in her arms and got closer from the man, closing her eyes tight and waiting.
She first felt a hand on her bare shoulder, which sent a shiver through her spine. But this hand was strong, warm and very large. She looked at saw it was Rollo's. He was holding her in place while reaching for the man's wrist, who obviously couldn't know where she was. He then reluctantly placed his hand on her back and as hurting, it also disgusted her. The man's hand was rough, cold, and it smelt of death. It hurt her as it went over her scars, stroking her bruises affectively.
When the man took his hand away, she thanked the sky and quickly dressed her top again, trying hard to ignore Rollo's staring. Then the questions began again.
"Any parents?"
"Dead..." she uttered. Now, she really wanted to cry. Her body shook once but she tried to calm down. The Vikings were severe with weakness.
"Brothers? Sisters?"
"No."
"Have you bled?"
"Yes..."
The questions were getting more and more uncomfortable.
"Are you in good shape for housework?"
She saw were the questions were coming.
"Yes, I know you want me as a slave to do everything you can't or don't want to. And when I have recovered, I'll be a very good slave, thank you." she almost spat.
She waited for an answer but she didn't have to.
"We are finished."
The man addressed a few words to Rollo, who nodded. Then, with repulsion, she saw him lick the man's hand. They quickly got out, Rollo apparently hating this place as much as her.
"Who... Who was it?" she shyly asked as they were walking again.
"Our seer." Rollo simply replied.
They kept walking until they reached a house a bit outside of the village, nearer from the forest and from the sea. It was almost all made of wood, and it looked pretty much like a farm to Gudrun's eyes. Rollo entered and led her in. He untied her then sat in a chair lazily, crossing his arms on the table and resting his head on them. He mumbled some words in his tongue then told her:
"You run away, you die."
She nodded quickly, not wanting to make him suspicious of anything. She knew the Vikings were cunning, it was no use trying to be more than them. She sat on the floor in the doorway, looking at the sea.
"Do you speak my tongue?" she asked Rollo again.
"I speak enough." he gruffly replied.
She simply stared at the sea, wondering with anxiety what was going to happen to her next. She had heard so much about Vikings, and all she had know for now seemed wrong. She turned her head to look at Rollo, and with surprise she saw he had fallen asleep. It was normal such a raid must have tired him. She stared at him for a little while, then looked at the sea again. It was so beautiful from here that she could keep staring at it for her whole life. Yet, she knew she couldn't. She thought about Ragnar, how his blue eyes matched hers. And how Rollo's had followed her back curve when she had shown her bruises to the seer... She didn't know if she had to fear him that way. After all, he was a Viking and she was foreign. A stranger. And she was a slave. She began to cry silently, trying not to wake him up. Night was coming, after all, and she knew she was going to sleep on the floor.
[A/N: I'm writing my first Viking fic and I think it's not going to turn out too bad. Tell me what you thought of it and review, I'd be so glad to know if you liked it!
I thought there were clearly not enough Vikings stories on this website, so I decided to add my own. ]