It wasn't an unknown thing for the Thorston Twins to cause trouble before sunrise, but this was the first time Tuff had ever caused trouble just by waking up.
The hand on his shoulder had startled him badly, plus the disorientation of being on the floor rather than in his bed. Last night, he'd dreamed of being home, as though he'd never left, so logically his first thought had been that Ruff had shoved him onto the floor to wake him. A life-long regime of sibling retaliation made him throw a punch at the person still gripping his shoulder. Fist impacted flesh as usual, but the scream that reached his ears did not belong to his sister.
Tuffnut stared in confused amazement at the bawling older woman who he had apparently decked. Who the heck was she? "Lady, what are you . . ." He trailed off, slowly separating dream from reality as his eyes swept over the upturned tray of food and beverage. Oh crap.
Summoned by the distressed wailing, footsteps pounded down the corridor to the room. Tuff winced and got up, reaching out to try and help the distraught lady sit up. Hitting Ruff was fine – she could best him any day. This lady apparently didn't know she could hit him back if she wanted to. Even now, she let out another scream and flailed to get away from him. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean it. Could you please, pleasestop crying before-"
The door to his room slammed open, allowing three woad-painted warriors from Lord Macintosh's clan to barge in. All of them looked at the woman, a nice bruise already showing up on her cheek. In the next second, Tuff's back was slammed against the wall and the blade of a dagger pressed against his throat.
{I knew you for a dog, but no-one ever thought you'd be so cowardly as to attack a woman for bringing your morning bread!} the man holding the knife spat.
Tuff blanched, but lifted his head. None of the words made sense, but he knew what had the man upset. "Hey idiot, listen, I didn't mean to hit anyone but my sister. Who isn't here, but that lady was right where she would have been. So I'm sorry, okay?" The man gave no response, other than to shake him viciously. "Ugh. Ow. Not okay, I guess."
{Some fighter you are, eh? Some bodyguard you'll make, what hits defenseless women! Careful, boy - let your true colors shine and they'll forget how well you fight and gut you like the pig you are!} The warrior sneered. He plunged the knife into the wood, directly beside Tuff's ear, making the boy flinch. Pleased that he'd intimidated the Viking, the man grinned toothily.
Tuff's eyes narrowed. While it was true he couldn't understand the language, he knew when he was being insulted and threatened. The sensible thing to do would be to appear cowed and apologetic, until he could explain what had happened. Yet a Thorston being sensible was a notion unheard of in the long annals of their genealogical history, and it wasn't about to start with Tuffnut.
He grabbed the warrior's wrist, hand still holding the knife, and anchored him in place to receive a hard kick to the ribs. The man shouted, staggering back, and left his knife in the wood, as Tuffnut had planned. He yanked it out and walked forward, head held high.
Body language was all he had to offer, and Tuffnut was not about to let anyone think he was afraid of them, no matter how terrified he really was. He tossed the knife down between the warrior's feet, surprised when it actually embedded itself upright into a knot in the wood. Tuff spat at his feet, every inch of him dripping with disdain.
The man's eyes widening gave Tuffnut a thrill of victory; he'd successfully showed the jerk that he wasn't going to be scared easy. What Tuffnut didn't expect was the howl of fury that erupted, as the man snatched up his weapon. He backed up hurriedly as the dagger sliced in an arc, nearly losing his nose by an inch. Shit, this wasn't good. He needed a weapon himself, and one arm was broken, uselessly bound across his chest!
Tuff ducked another swing and lunged for his only hope – a poker from the fireplace. Hitting the ground in a somersault, he snatched it up to catch the dagger's next blow. It was hard enough to vibrate the length of iron and he swung, hoping to knock the dagger from the warrior's hand.
The man delivered a kick to Tuff's broken arm, forcing a yell of pain out of him. He fell back, hitting the hearth. That was a cheap shot, even by Viking standards. As the man advanced, he let go of the poker to grab a handful of soot and wood-chunks, flinging it into his opponent's face. Yelling and cursing as he wiped his stinging eyes, the man lost track of Tuffnut until an elbow to the nose sent blood spurting. The boy kicked the dagger out of the stunned warrior's hand and raised the poker.
{Enough! I've had enough!} the man sputtered, raising one hand, as the other tried to stem the flow of blood. Tuff hesitated and then looked at the other two warriors, wondering why they hadn't joined in. They were both looking at him with a mixture of fear and contempt, ready to jump in if it meant saving the life of their companion. It struck him then; they actually expected him to try to murder his opponent, even after he'd yielded.
Disgusted, Tuff dropped the poker and backed away. The two men relaxed visibly and went to help up their bleeding friend. He watched, noting that the woman had left, no doubt to tell everyone how he'd ruthlessly attacked her. Tuff swallowed, trying not to look as anxious as he felt. One of the warriors said something to the other, too low for him to hear, clearly about him. Tuff watched them turn to leave and stiffened as another figure blocked their exit.
It was a great bear of a man, with the same fiery red hair as Merida. Wasn't he a sort of Chieftain here? Tuffnut recognized him vaguely from last night; he hadn't been speaking out for him necessarily. But neither had he spoken against him . . .
With dread, he watched as the warriors quickly filled in what had happened, while supporting the still-bleeding man between them. He had to suppress a shudder as Fergus looked at him keenly. {Did he now? Well, I'll have to have a little chat with him, won't I? You run along, assure Lord Macintosh that I've taken the young ruffian in hand.}
Fergus actually had to duck to enter the room and he shut the door between himself and the corridor with a finality that made Tuff want to curl into a ball. But Vikings didn't curl up into little balls of terror, certainly not when they had sisters who'd never let them hear the end of it. He raised his chin, shoulders pressing into the stone wall behind him. Perhaps he'd be lucky and the large man would only beat him, rather than put him to the sword?
But the red-headed giant only smirked. "You've certainly stirred the hornet's nest this morning. What was all that about?" he asked. Tuffnut's jaw dropped.
"You can understand me?!" he squawked. "How?"
"I speak Norse, yeah. Course I'm a bit rusty, I haven't had to in a long time, not for a couple decades now. The point is, I've been around in areas thick with Danes – a man has to travel when he's young and restless. Isn't that what's landed you in this mess?"
"I . . . uh, yeah, I guess you could call it traveling. Though it's not that big a mess so long as you don't kill me," Tuff muttered, nervously.
That caused Fergus to roar with laughter and slap his knee, not exactly a reassuring gesture. "Lad, you're going to be my daughter's bodyguard! If that doesn't kill you, then you're nigh indestructible," he chuckled. "Now why don't you tell me why those warriors brought a quarrel to you?"
"Oh, they thought I punched out that lady, but I didn't. That is, I didn't mean to. She kinda startled me awake, you know? And also I kinda spat at one of them after he threatened me. And maybe broke his nose, but only after he kicked me!" The rest of Fergus' words caught up with him. He blinked. "I'm your daughter's what, now?"
Sunrise spread gentle fingers of light throughout the room, illuminating the dust motes in the air. At length, they touched the bed of a sleeping girl who mumbled and turned over on her side, seeking escape. It had been a very long night for Merida, as well as Elinor.
After they'd left the boy, her mother had wanted to talk. Any hope that Elinor would not be furious at her rash declaration was certainly squashed, even though that fury was at least tempered with understanding.
"I know you wanted to save his life, but to place him as your bodyguard, Merida?" Elinor had nearly shouted. "What were you thinking?"
"Mum, I . . . well I wasn't really thinking, I just needed to stop what was happening!"
"And therein lies the problem – you weren't thinking! Merida, you must always plan out the idea before you go and announce it. Being spur of the moment . . . well it's you, aye, but it often creates more problems than it solves! For instance, how do I explain the concept of a bodyguard to the boy, let alone convince him he should do it?"
Merida blinked. "Wait a second . . . you said he'd agreed to it!" Which had been a suspiciously fast agreement, coming from a Viking. Well, now that she thought of it. "Mum, did you tell everyone a great fat fib?"
The look on Elinor's face was anything but amused. "In order to not make my daughter look like a reckless fool who doesn't think before she speaks? Yes, I did, and I didn't enjoy a second of it!" She sighed, pained. "Merida, I am glad that you spoke up to save him. It created an . . . opportunity to right a wrong. That boy does not deserve to die. He's homesick, adrift in a strange land and there's no way I can think of to get him back home. Certainly not with the claim that we have just made for him. A claim that if he refuses . . . Well, do you see the problem?"
Yes, she did. Merida looked down at her feet, ashamed. "If I could have thought of anything else to say, I would have said it. I'm sorry . . . now I've bound him here, haven't I?"
"Little more than I have," Elinor sighed. "We will right it, somehow. I just . . . I don't like the thought of him being your bodyguard, Merida. He wants to go home so badly . . . if you're ever threatened by Norsemen who give him that option, what if . . .?"
Merida looked up, gasping. "You think he'd betray me?" Flashes of the way he'd looked at her, pleading for help, his sheepish smile, even the way he ate apples . . . she couldn't fathom it.
"Are you so sure he wouldn't? You haven't known him for a day, you can't say he'd never do it. Imagine if it were you, captured by Vikings, with the only way to live perhaps to marry one of them? Would you not do anything to get back home?"
She shuddered. "Aye . . . I would not settle. I couldn't."
Elinor nodded, glad at least that Merida understood. "I had hoped you would pick a more experienced warrior, one who was from our clan, with your best interests at heart. But then again, maybe there is a reason you claimed him that I have not seen yet. I do want to trust him, Merida. My heart is not closed to the possibility that he will be there for you when you need him." She looked out the window, sighing. "But as a mother, I cannot help but want the best for you."
Merida stepped forward and hugged her mother. "I know, Mum. Thank you. For that, and for standing behind me on this."
She chuckled softly, stroking her daughter's wild locks as though she was but a child again. "You won't be thanking me after the months and months of language lessons I'll be subjecting you both to. If he agrees."
"What if he doesn't?" Merida asked, looking up at her.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "Hopefully he'll at least try to learn how to communicate with us. The less alienated he feels, the less likely he is to do something reckless. Like try to run."
They had talked more on the subject, until Merida could barely keep her eyes open and even Elinor was stifling yawns. Eventually, the young woman had stumbled to bed, though not without first passing the room Tuffnut was in. She heard soft noises and frowned pressing her ear to the door. What she heard almost made her open the door and go inside, but she stopped herself. If she'd learned anything about the boy so far, it was that his dignity was important to him. Elinor had mentioned he had a twin, a sister.
Merida well remembered the winter that Hamish had fallen deathly ill after falling into the well. They'd fished him out and made a fuss, but he'd caught such a dreadful chill. Harris and Hubert had been beside themselves, lost without their companion. It had actually been the quietest, most depressing season Merida could ever remember, just seeing the bereft and dim expressions on her brother's faces, as though a part of their souls had been snuffed out.
Tuffnut was going through the same thing, most likely, but worse for him – he didn't know whether his sister was alright. Had she been battling beside him when they were separated? Did he wonder whether she still lived? And if she did, then she likely was going through the same feeling of loss, the same tormented questions. Merida went on to her room, shut the door, and lay down on the bed, crying a fair bit herself out of guilt. Perhaps exhaustion had something to do with it as well, for she fell asleep with tears still on her face.
Rather than the sunlight's gentle nudging, it was hysterical screaming that snapped Merida's eyes opened, sending her to sit bolt upright in bed. She tumbled out, smoothing out her clothing and ran for the door to see what was the matter.
Maudie ran past her room down the corridor, arms up and crying loudly. Staring in bewilderment for a moment, she registered the direction Maudie had been running from. "Ach, it's just barely past sunrise!" she moaned. "Tell me it was a large rat, just not him!" The boy hardly needed more trouble than he was already in. Maudie tended to overreact just a titch to things.
As she turned the corner, she nearly tripped over Hamish, Hubert and Harris. Each face looked up at her in alarm, urgently putting fingers to their lips. Merida hid along with them, ignoring Harris' peeved mutterings as he batted her hair out of his vision. Three warriors burst out of Tuffnut's room, two carrying the third. Fergus' unmistakable footsteps preceded him around the corner, giving Merida and her brothers time to press flat out of sight.
The words exchanged made Merida nearly gasp. Tuffnut had attacked Maudie? But why? She grimaced at the promise her father made and nearly ran out to stop him. There had to be a misunderstanding here. As Lord Macintosh's men headed their way, Hamish, Harris and Hubert abruptly scattered. Merida scrambled for a second, running for the nearest door and slipping inside as the men passed. By the time she cautiously approached Tuffnut's door, she heard laughter coming from inside. Her father was talking – in a language she hadn't heard him use before now. Curious, she glimpsed inside. Her red hair naturally betrayed her and Fergus saw her, jovially beckoning her in.
"Come on then, I know you and those little terrors heard most of that," Fergus smiled.
"Most of what? Dad, what on earth happened?" Merida questioned, after greeting Tuffnut. He was looking at her like she'd grown two extra heads, but Merida would let it slide for now. "Why was that man bleeding and why was Maudie running through the halls in hysterics?"
"You ask like all that's unusual around here," Fergus replied, shrugging. Merida rolled her eyes. "In any case, I don't think your mother explained just what Tuffnut's supposed to be doing here."
"Uh . . ." At a loss, Merida looked at Tuffnut, now able to ken his bewildered expression. She bit her lip. "No. Not really."
"Ah," Fergus said, cheerfully. "Well, this is going to be rather interesting to explain."