I'm so sorry I'm late on this guys! I feel so bad! I'm sorry its just school has been piling up and…well, anyway here's your story—Review please even though I do not deserve your awesomeness!
….
Tino's face was greeted with the warm air of the long house. He sniffed happily and smelled the wonderful odor of baking bread with hints of clove, boiling blackberries in heavy metal pots, and syrupy honey cakes rolled in oats. Tino smiled. He had finally gotten a big weight off of his chest and it felt good. Kissing Berwald…had somehow relieved him. He knew at that moment that he had liked Berwald for a very long time. How much he liked him the Finn still did not know. Did he want to take Berwald as his summer husband tomorrow? He didn't know. Did he want to dream of Berwald tonight? He didn't know. Did he want to mingle his body with Berwald's as they made passionate love? You bet your sweet Ass he did.
Stopping to blush, Tino slowly paused before walking along the dirt floor of the cramped long house till he heard a whine and a loud crashing noise. Passing by the small clumped kitchen where his aunt was stirring a fervently bubbling soup, he hurried to the loft ladder that led to the rafters where he and Nikolas slept. He quickly climbed up the rungs of the cedar made steps till he reached the hay filled bedding. Looking up he nearly fell off the ladder from laughter.
Elizabeta was pulling off Nikolas's tunic much to the boys protests and had begun to thrown a tight white linen dress over his small body. Nikolas shivered as the cool night air hit his exposed skin. Björt was giggling madly as he watched the pretty Hungarian woman dress his cousin as a female, taking delight in the scene even more as a decorative hangerock was shoved over his head and tied in the front.* Tino watched with amusement as Nikolas gave a chain of curse words.
Once the garment was fastened by a broach made of bent bone to look like a cross, the Hungarian women smiled at her handy work. Nikolas was adorned with a cobalt blue hangerock on top of the white woolen dress, his tunic, and a light blue sash was wrapped tightly up to his chest to keep the dress from slipping. Frowning slightly, he yanked the broach off and instead clipped it to his hair. Mumbling something about it getting in his way.
Tino laughed. Along with the bone broach Nikolas could almost have passed for a female, except for the lack of a chest. But, turning to Feliks Tino saw the Polish man had already solved that problem. The long haired blonde had stuffed his tunic to the brim with soft plush moss, and was now sewing a bolt of cloth over the tunic to keep the moss in place. After the last stitch was set, Feliks smiled and shoved his hands through the sleeves, setting the dress in place by patting down his homemade chest.
Tino giggled. That is, until he realized it was his turn next. Elizabeta quickly dived for the Finn and threw him onto the rickety wooden logs that held up the loft. Yanking off his boots, tunic, and trousers he was left in only his linen chemise. The Hungarian women smiled wickedly at the young Finn, and quickly got to work, Tino shrieking and throwing a fit the entire time.
"Hey…" An emotionless tone was heard from behind Tino. All eyes turned to the Norwegian with the placid eyes.
"Isn't that Berwald…?"
All eyes grew wide at the mention of the name. Necks craned to the left, trying to get a glimpse out of the dirtied window, until a loud gasp was sounded. Feliks shrieked with giggles and fell onto the hay, swooning and rolling around in the dried alfalfa, getting his dress filthy with the arid grass.
"It's like, really him! Ha-ha, he's just standing there! Like a dumb bear!" Feliks voice glittered. All eyes swooped back to the window.
"Oh, why, it is Berwald. And he's just standing in front of the house. I wonder why he's there… It's like he's frozen in place!" Elizabeta asked as her eyes trained on the tall man. Berwald was indeed in front of the long house. It took a good pair of trained eyes to see in the shallow dark, but it was the tall Swede. Tino felt his heart skip a beat. What if that kiss had been too much for him? It was just a brush of lips on his brow! Nothing to get too worked up about! But…Tino paused. Berwald had been alone for most of his life, and he didn't have many friends besides Tino and his cousins… No room for human contact.
Tino let a small smile grace his lips. Berwald could be so cute and innocent sometimes, to have just a small kiss spiral him into embarrassment.
"Hey! Like, either come up here and make out with Tino or like, get moving buddy!" Feliks stuck his head out of the small blown glass window, his voice annoyingly loud, painful to Tino's ears. In an instant Tino had smacked Feliks head and pushed him down, blushing furiously and glaring down at the Polish man.
Tino gave a quick look back at the window to see that Berwald's face had been dyed red by the Polish mans comment. Like a deer caught in a trap, Berwald turned around swiftly and ran down the road, disappearing into the shrubs. Tino sighed in relief, giving Feliks one more good rapt on his head.
Once Feliks had been shut up and all of them calm it only took a good ten minutes for all the boys to be dressed. Nikolas in his navy blue wool, Feliks in his verdant green fleece, and Tino in a nicely robin-blue dyed flaxen dress. All three boys had to admit, they did look convincing as women—and they were looking mighty fine, if they might add.
"Like, come on ladies, let's go and paint the town!" Feliks cheered, stepping a foot to the door, until he was yanked back by his loose collar.
"Oh no ladies, you have to do some work first!" Elizabeta said, smiling cruelly. She dragged the boys to the hearth and pointed at the steaming pans of food. Potatoes seasoned with rationed salt, pickled herring in clay jars long since forgotten, boiling blackberries strewn with sugar, and even piles upon piles of baking cornbread stuffed with dried apples and drizzled with Honey. Tino felt his mouth water at the sight. But these treats were not for him he thought, at least not all of them. No, they were for the men first, who were up till four this morning gathering scrap wood for the bonfire, and who were also collecting wild mushrooms and geese eggs, fish and rabbit for the real feast tomorrow. After tomorrow the food would be rationed again and the only scrumptious meals the boys would be eating would be porridge and stale rye bread. Tino grumbled in disappointment.
Elizabeta gave each boy a bit of leather and instructed them to carry each dish that she told them too. Feliks carrying the heavy rye bread fresh from the hearth, Tino carrying the roasted rabbit, Nikolas carrying a skirt full of freshly picked cherries, and even Björt carrying what butter was left in the churn from this morning, each one balancing the dish carefully.
Once they were sent outside they all felt silly. They were men. Dressed like women. Carrying food for hungry, hot, sweaty guys. They all sighed in unison.
Nikolas, heaving the small red fruit up in his bundled skirts decided to lead the way first. The Sun had long since gone down, but the camp was alive and burned like a thousand stars had been ignited along the hills. Each day getting longer and longer, why, tomorrow the sun wouldn't even go down! Only for a mere flicker of a few hours until the realm of Solstice was lifted and the village's festival would be complete.* But for Tino, there was so much more work to be done. Tomorrow he would have to wake up early, bring the animals to drink, collect flowers for the May Pole, then come back and help with the cooking till the real fun began. The real fun…Tino paused.
The maidens dance. Did he dare do it? Did he dare to walk along the soft earth, torso naked, twirling with skirts that opened up like the petals of a morning glory? His body painted with wild swirls representing the Sun God, flowers in his hair to represent the Goddess? To walk along the women and the other young men like him? Searching for a summer husband, searching for a summer love. Tino shook his head, shaking some rabbit gristle on the floor. He let out a frustrated sound at the mess he had made, until, peering down at the floor, he saw the little white puppy from before, come up to the spill and begin to lick it away with a hungry pink tongue.
Then Tino stopped. Where there was a cute little puppy, there was sure to be-Tino looked up and saw the stubborn glare of Berwald's face—a scary ass monster. Tino made an unmanly yelp as he tried to steady his hands, being careful so as not to overthrown the cooked hare. Of all the times to meet the man, it had to be when Tino was in a women's dress. He put on a brave face and smiled up at Berwald, his face heating up like a freshly lit candle.
Holding out the plate of slowly cooling meat he offered it to Berwald.
"Hungry?" the small Finn asked sheepishly.
But Berwald didn't hear him, he was too absorbed in the fact that Tino, his little summer wife—as he decided to call him—was wearing women's clothing. Berwald could not take his eyes off of the Finn's delicate frame. Though most women's dresses were thick and bulky, Tinos fit him just right, hugging every curve and every tuck and wave, leaving less and less to the Imagination. And oh what an imagination it was.
Berwald could just see the little Finn, sprawled out on a bed of leaves, legs spread wide to the sky, head adorned with morning glories and heather, chest beating wildly and eyes squeezed tight, breathe tingling as Berwald lowered himself into the heat that was Tino. Thrusting and plunging, feeling the sweet warmth around him… Berwald immediately opened his eyes in embarrassment. He looked down again to see that Tino had sat down on a low table and was proceeding to fill a wooden bowl with a heavy helping of the roasted rabbit, along with a bit of stewed squash and a few slabs of bread. Berwald looked curiously at the table set with food.
Once Tino was done he wiped his hands on his dress and looked back at Berwald, face bright with accomplishment. "Well, Berwald, eat up! You have a big day tomorrow and so do I!" The Finn said merrily, wandering a little ways away to come back with a bubbling cup of mead. He set it down near the table and ushered the giant Swede to eat, taking a bit of bread and giving it to the little puppy who was now begging for a little snack.
Berwald, still thoroughly confused as to what was going on, just sat down and began to pick up the food, shoving bits of bread, spoonfuls of squash and rabbit meat into his mouth. He paused only once to wipe the messy stew off his chin, wanting to show some good manners in front of his wife. It was only till he spilled gravy on his jaw once more that he began to get frustrated. Eating with manners was such a chore for a man who lived nearly alone for the entirety of his life. But it was only until he felt the cool touch of a finger on his chin that he looked down to see that Tino had scooped up the extra food on Berwald's chin with his finger and licked the digit clean. Slow, tantalizingly, teasingly clean. Or at least that's how Berwald saw it. But Tino couldn't have had that in mind, not his pure innocent Tino…
After licking his finger with a deliberately slow stroke of his tongue Tino smiled to himself. He hoped that had gotten Berwald's blood going. If anything he wanted to catch the Swede's eye, and if playing a bit naughty did it, then Tino was all up for it. Tino was a man, he had needs too, and he was more that positive Berwald could fulfill those needs.
After sharing that small emotional walk down memory lane with the Swedish man Tino knew he was ready. He wanted Berwald and he wanted him bad. Problem was; how much did Berwald want him? Tino couldn't rely on silly rumors anymore. He needed to know if the Swede really was interested.
Furrowing his brow he started to brainstorm ideas. Perhaps if he really showed off tomorrow night at the bonfire dances? You know, really shake what his mama gave him! Tino blushed. Then maybe the Swede would take notice…
Tino was brought to attention as he heard a thick slap strike the warm summer air. Turning around he saw Mathias, a blazing red mark on his cheek and a few clusters of cherries in his hand. He was grinning from ear to ear at a furious Nikolas.
"What Norge? You were offering them so I took some." The Danish man began to say before he was cut off by the fierce glare of the Norwegian.
"You did not take some! You just deliberately stuck your hand down my crotch and groped me you pervert!" his voice was strained. Mathias just laughed.
"I was just practicing for tomorrow, when I really take your cherry…" He said wickedly, moving his face closer to the young Norsemen, their lips inches apart. Then another smack was heard and Mathias was left on the floor, groaning in pain, Nikolas walking off curtly.
Tino was about to burst into giggles when he noticed Berwald had finished with his food. Tino, forgetting all about the stupid Danish man, reached to take the plate. But he paused when saw a pinkish scar on Berwald's palm. In an instant he cupped Berwald's paw like hand in his and turned over Berwald's palm to gaze and the gash. The wound had been treated, but poorly. Scowling, Tino took the corners of his tunic from underneath his dress, flashing Berwald a bit of skin in the process he guessed, and slowly ripped the cloth. Then, soaking the strip of cloth in a bit of water and honey nearby in a pitcher, he wrapped it neatly along Berwald's.
Dipping his head down, he lightly kissed the bandaged wound, eye lashes fluttering slightly as he raised his head again. Looking back at the giant he blushed and turned away. "Ah… there you go." He said, voice shy, losing all its courage it had not but a minute ago. Berwald felt his blush soar over his face even to his ears. His wife had treated his wound. His wife had actually cared for him and kissed his palm. Well. This was just too much for Berwald to take.
Lunging his arms at the Finn with more assurance he pulled the Finnish man close and buried his head in Tino's shoulder, smelling the river, the meadow, the baking of bread and the sweet aroma of morning glories in the Finn's scent. How Berwald wanted more. He longed to just run his hands through that silky threaded hair, card his hands through it and feel it glide through his calloused fingers like spring water. He needed the Finn more than he needed air.
Breathing in that scent one more time, he lightly ghosted his lips over one of the Finn' ears, breath becoming unbearably hot. His mind raced and his heart burned. It was now or never.
"Drömmen ommigikvällminbrud."* It was said in such a harsh whisper, with the sweetest of dialects that Tino slid his eyes shut to envision the words across his mind. Dream of me tonight my bride. Tino shivered slightly, wracking his brain to remember every bit of Swedish he could remember. The language was harsh and rough, but on Berwald's tongue it was pure bliss.
The movement was swift and hurriedly, as if the giant was so embarrassed he dared not show his red stained face. And, as Berwald pushed away with the skittishness of a young Stag, Tino was left on the small wooden logs and table, his face bright pink, breath coming out with heaving sighs. Tino could do nothing more but stare at the man who was trotting down the fire lit path. Staring at his summer husband, his eyes wandering only to him.
…
After all the dirtied dishes were put away into pales of water to soak, and the working men fed, the people of the village began to flock to the back meadows, each carrying a lantern or candle decorated with summer flowers. It was at that time that Nikolas, Tino, and Feliks were marching down the road, skirts hiked up, heads held high, and there last shred of manliness' being devoured like a moth to a flame. It was time for the Flower Tradition.
Each man dreaded it to a certain extent. Feliks dreaded the fact that his dress would be ruined by the mid morning dew, Nikolas dreaded the actual dreaming of his "husband", and Tino dreaded the fact that Berwald might not been in his dream at all! What if he wasn't? What if Tino dreamed about Eduard, or Ivan, the creepy Russian man that lived in the meadow with all those sunflowers? Tino's face immediately turned pale and sickly.
He felt his feet pick up on the dirt, his hands spasmodically clutching the rough fabric of his dress. He was nervous. Looking next to him he saw a girl, who was from Belgium, skip merrily to the other awaiting maidens, a tall and big breasted Ukrainian girl named Katyusha and her sister Natalia, and a pretty petite Taiwanese girl with a big bright flower pinned to her dark chocolate colored hair. Even The Italian twins had come to participate in the tradition!
The rest of the faces were familiar, with crowns of Heather, Dogwood blossoms, Lily, Bedstraw, Caper and Cowslip all adorning the long and luscious hair. Tino, wearing his own headdress of morning glories, began to feel a bit self conscience. He wasn't nearly as beautiful as all these women. Who's to say Berwald wouldn't just pick one of them instead of him? Tino scowled sourly. He was only brought back from his thoughts as he began to trip over his feet as the parade grew more packed, girls of all ages, from sixteen to forty-five all lining up, giggles and chatting.
Some of them looked to Tino with bright eyes, others commenting on how cute and pretty he looked. But this did nothing to calm his nerves. He felt even sicker to his stomach when he saw that they were coming to the end of a thicket where the women would start to gather the flowers.
It would all happen in a blur, Tino scrambling over the brambles and grass, scooping up a flower here and a flower there till he collected seven and ran back to a low set fence were he would have to hop over it, dress and all, and make it back to his aunts long house. He felt like punching something.
But he was doing this for love. For Berwald's love to be exact. He sucked in a big gulp of air and stuck out his chest proudly as he was led to the front of the willow thicket. There, he stood waiting with all the women and his four friends, waiting the drums to beat and the pipes to play.
Then, like a dream, Tinos gaze was torn away from the field. Around a thicket of Ash saplings, some men began to form along the low fence that was to be hopped over, Tino recognizing most of them. It was the hunting party, they had come to watch. Tino felt his nerves become unraveled as he saw a tall, brooding figure with flaxen hair. Berwald. Why was Berwald here? Did he want to make Tino lose his nerve?
Tino fiddled with his dress. He couldn't help but feel his legs growing weaker and weaker and his mouth drier and drier. Damn it all! Why did Berwald have to be here and watching? It was bad enough to be a guy dressed in public as a woman, but to have the Swede watching his every move? Tino could barely stand it.
Nikolas, sensing the disturbance in his friend's attitude, turned to his attention to the direction that the young Finn's eyes were gazed upon. He grimaced in annoyance. The Dane. The stupid Dane was leering at him-practically drooling. It was disgusting. Nikolas frowned from the view of the men and tugged Tino's sleeve, making the Finn turn around suddenly, cheeks red.
"Don't let them get to you. It's just some flower picking. Once it's over we can go home and forget all about it." Nikolas then turned his head back to the field, sighing inwardly with annoyance at all the giggling girls.
But Tino couldn't help but let it bug him! Those words, spoken with such care not but a few minutes ago! Berwald wanted Tino to dream of him tonight and by all the Gods Tino was going to dream of him! Setting a determined smile on his face the Finn looked back at the field. The outskirts of the brush were illuminated with dapples of summer flowers, in full bloom, getting ready to curl in on them for the night. Tino's eyes began to scan wildly. In a few seconds he had his mind set on seven flowers near an old cut down tree, he just had to be the first one to get there. But his calculating thoughts were brought to a steadfast halt as the thundering of a deer hide drum began to vibrate around the field.
In an instant the sweet and melodic sound of a Sheppard's pipe blazed through the tall winding grass. The first throng of girls began to dash into the meadow, pushing and shouting with giddiness. Tino just gawked. Was he supposed to look like that? All happy and girlish? Skipping at a breakneck speed? Well that sure as hell wasn't going to happen. Tino had a penis. And he sure as hell was going to act like it.
Starting off slowly with Nikolas, Feliks and the Italian twins at his heels, he began to prod the twisting ropes of grass till each boy went their own way to look for their perfect flower. Tino, having to swerve as the Belarusian girl with the long blonde hair almost mowed him down with her fierce running, muttering something that sounded faintly like "marriage…brother…marry me." Tino cringed.
Skirts bundled up in his hands he padded lightly to the fallen tree that he had mapped out earlier, using the moon and the torch light to guide him, though the sky would only be dark for a few more hours. Looking down he paused to smile as his gaze met with the vibrant color of a patch bellflower, their purplish hue looking soft and delicate in the torch light. Tino, giving thanks to the Gods, plucked the long stalk of the flower and lightly held it in his palm. One down, six to go.
Taking a few steps backwards he whirled his skirts around to spy a plump golden chrysanthemum. His face becoming bright he clutched the flower and added it to the other. Soon he had almost all seven. Along with the Bellflower, Chrysanthemum, bloodroot blossoms, hyacinth bud, and periwinkle Tino as well on his way to finishing. Clutching the threads of flowers in his fingers he looked up and felt his heart in his throat. Berwald was watching his every move.
Tino immediately lowered his gaze and felt a slow blush creep up on his face. The giant Swede, the source of Tino's affections, had his eyes pinned on the Finn. That creeping stare, filled with what most people would guess was malice, was burning. But Tino knew better. He had seen that gaze on Berwald before, when he was young, when they still talked. It was the look that Berwald would always give him before he kissed his cheek at the end of the adventure game. Only now the look had differed tremendously. What was once a glance of pure innocent puppy-love-had turned to stone hard lust. Berwald was watching with eyes set on a look of hunger, and it shook Tino to his core.
"Oh Gods…why? Why does he have to make my heart beat like a drum?" Tino asked himself, his breath quickening. He only needed two more flowers, then he would jump over the fence and be allowed to shut himself up in his warm little hay loft. Were he could think. He needed to think! He wanted Berwald, and Berwald wanted him. But how to go about it? It's not like Tino could just go up to the Swede and say 'insert Swedish fun-toy into Finnish hole'. Tino scrunched his face. Definitely not. So then. That was it. The Maidens dance would settle it.
Tino flowed his hands over the spiky weeds before wandering off to the rifts of dirt. When he was young he had watched the maidens dance, seeing the pretty women and men hop in the dirt circle against the bonfires glowing light. It was magical. The chanting and the happy yelps and glees as the drums beat on, the people clapping and hooting with laughter as the dancers speed up, testing their bodies, hopping on dainty feet, flowers looped into their hair, torsos bare, painted Runes decorating their bodies.* It was magical.
And then it was time for the leader of tribe, the one who was anointed the best. He got to choose first from the ring of dancers. It was always a pretty girl who was chosen, though sometimes the chosen bride was male, but hardly ever. It left Tino with a sore spot in his gut. Who's to Say Berwald would choose him? Tino shook his head. He couldn't dwell on this now! He had to find the rest of his flowers! So, swaying among the grasses he finally found the last of the buds underneath a few snarly oak saplings. A long stalked Ox eyed Daisy greeted him, its impending yellow eye glaring at Tino. He giggled. It reminded him of Berwald. He smiled at it fondly before scooping it up in his already growing bundle. Once all seven were collected he trotted back to the meadow entry way until a feathery touch clutched the skirts of his dress. Tino whirled his head around at the contact to see Felik's, a foolish grin on his lips, hands clutching a small bouquet.
Unknown to Tino, Berwald had been gazing at the young Finn from a distance for a while now. And at every flower the young male picked he prayed to the Gods it would help mystify Tino's dream so he could see the Swedish man. He wanted that delicate body of Tino's almost as much as he wanted his loving heart. Berwald would do anything for his little wife's heart, he only wished to cradle it and keep it safe forever. And damn if his little wife wore a dress every day, well it was something he could certainly get used to.
"How many flowers do you, like, have?" The grinning Polish man smiled brightly. Tino sputtered and looked down at his cluster of flowers, counting madly. "Um… Seven!" he squeaked out. Felik's squealed, clapping his hands together.
"Yay! Me too, come on, let's like, jump over the railing with Nikolas." In an instant the Polish man looped his arms with Tino and together they met up with Nikolas who was blatantly staring at a weed.
Behind the boys a few girls were scrambling in the brambles for the last of the dogwood blossoms, their skirts fluttering in the last hour of darkness. Tomorrow there would be no night, only day, and yet the bonfires will burn.* Tino smiled to himself. Tomorrow would be it.
"Come on! It's time to….RUN!" Felik's wined and with a kick to their heels all three boys launched into the air as fast as they could with the speed that could match the fastest horse. In a few seconds they had come to the fallen logs and hopped over each with ease till the looming fence was in the distance. Already several girls were attempting to daintily step over the rounded poles, but oh no, not for Tino. He was a man, and he would jump over that damn fence in a manly fashion. Smiling viciously, a glint in his eye, he sprung up, higher and higher, moccasins drifting over the log, he was gonna' make it he was gonna' make it he was gonna'—fall flat on his ass.
"Ouch…" he winced and rubbed his bum, picking off a few prickly thistles till he felt a throng of strong arms lift him up and set him on his feet. Looking up he let out a small mewl of embarrassment as the stony face of Berwald greeted him. "Yoo 'kay?" He asked, steadying the Finn, noticing the pretty wildflowers in his hands.
"Ah…Yes!" he squeaked again, shifting out of the bearish grip. Behind him he heard a thud and the knocking of wood to see that Felik's had thrown his entire weigh over the bar and was now stuck between the folds of the wood, his goofy smile still on his face.
"Uh…Liet, like, a little help?" he wriggled in the binds of the wood. In an instant the young Lithuanian shyly helped the blonde through the wood and set him down. Tino grew jealous of their relationship, how easily they could be romantic with facial expressions and light touches. He yearned for it.
"Hey, lookie' what I found!" The loud voice of the Dane rang around the trees. All eyes swerved to see a thrashing Nikolas atop the shoulders of the tall blonde, his cocky smile gleaming.
"Let go of me Danmark!" The exasperated growls of the Norse men shot through the now light filled night. But the Danish man just ignored him and swung him till he was holding him bridal style.
"So Norge, you gonna' dream of me tonight my sweet?"
"Bite me."
"Where?"
Smack!
"Like, anyway! We have to go now, but like, you guys should totally wait for us by the firelight if you like, catch my drift!" Tino and Nikolas's faces burned brightly like the new awakening sun. Did Felik's really have to be this damned foreword?
Denmark pouted but dropped the Norwegian lightly on the ground, but not before swinging him around and giving him a peck on the cheek—to which Nikolas slapped him again.
Once Nikolas and Felik's had wandered off, Tino was left with Berwald staring at him. Tino squirmed under the thick and heavy gaze, unsure what to do.
"Ah… well… See you tomorrow..." He stuttered before turning around quickly. But before he could escape he felt strong arms bind him again and drag him to a warm and solid body.
"Sweet dreams…" The words were unmarred and said through strained teeth, but they were still there none the less, and filled to the brim with an emotion that sounded to Tino like love.
And in an instant they were gone. Tino turned around to find that the Giant of a man had disappeared through the woods with the other group of men, leaving Tino alone, his heart throbbing with an emotion he could now name. Love.
…
"Hey…Bear-shit-for-brains-wald! I wanna' talk with you, maybe over a cup of mead?" The Danish man's voice made Berwald want to punch a tree.
"Why?" Berwald kept on walking to his longhouse by the Fir trees.
"Because! I wanna' talk manly stuff with you!" He said, catching up with Berwald's long strides.
Berwald didn't even break a sweat. "No."
Mathias frowned, but within a few seconds his face lit up to a sly grin. "What if I told you we could talk about Tino?" Berwald's eyes widened and his pace halted. He turned to Mathias and blinked.
"W'at 'bout h'm?" He asked. Mathias adjusted his tunic's skirt and brushed off some dirty from his hair.
"Well, first of all. What makes you so sure the little twerp will accept you at the fires? And even if he does, do you even know what to do with him? This isn't for little kids Berwald, this is for the grownups…" They had rounded the dirt road to come to the door of Berwald's long house, his family's carvings and knots welded into the ancient wood.
"I k'ow th't…" Berwald muttered softly. He knew this wasn't kids play. It was a Union, a mock wedding of the Sun and moon coming together at the peak of the Gods power.* And it was also a chance to become untied with Tino, something Berwald liked the idea of very much.
"And who knows, what if you accidentally break him? Haha." Mathias clapped Berwald on the back. "He is a skinny lad ya' know."
Berwald took a shaky breath, but Denmark kept on talking. "I mean, do you even know how to do it?" he cackled. Berwald paused. Both men were outside the door still, the sun beginning to warm their backs and it was still late at night.
"I…k'nd of k'ow how…"Berwalds voice was marled, unsure of what he was saying.
"Well I hope so Berwald! Because if you don't pick him first and dazzle him at the bonfire, that Russian Ivan may just scoop him up and 'become one with him'." Mathias shivered and waved his hands in the air.
"Anyway, good luck, oh and Berwald," Mathias started to walk down the little path, "tell me if he spits or swallows." Mathias cackled. Berwald frowned and walked back into the house. He half wondered what Mathias could have meant by 'spits or swallows'.
"M'ybe it's 'a D'nish th'ng…" he mumbled before closing the door behind him.
…
Tino had just finished helping Nikolas tuck Björt into his little cubby-like bed before following his cousin up the rung ladder to the hay rafters. He was nervous and his body showed it as his hands shook with each climb of the ladder. Once they reached the top Nikolas shook off the dress and apron and unpinned the bone clip that had held his hair in place. He then flopped on the scratchy hay along with Tino who was unpleasantly exhausted.
"Let's get this over with…" Nikolas lifted up his potato sack pillow and shoved the flowers underneath, grumbling as he laid his head down with a soft thud. Tino following suit, smiling to himself and praying to every God and Goddess he could name to enchant his dreams with visions of Berwald.
The birds were singing outside, confused at the change in the sky with the blazing light, and Tino admitted it did make it hard to sleep, but his bones were tired and his head hurt and his heart was sore from beating so fast. But no matter how much his body ached a smile still graced his lips. He would dream of his husband tonight, he was sure of it.
…
Yeah I'm a bitch :D anyway hoped you liked this chapter! I made it extra long for you guys!
Authors Notes:
"-a decorative hangerock was shoved over his head and tied in the front.*"—this piece of clothing was an outer apron that Viking women wore so that their tunic would not get dirty; it also had various pockets to hold domestic tools. I just thought it'd be fucking hilarious to imagine Norway in one.
"Each day getting longer and longer, why, tomorrow the sun wouldn't even go down! Only for a mere flicker of a few hours until the realm of Solstice was lifted and the village's festival would be complete.*"—on Midsummer Eve there is no night. All along Scandinavia except for Denmark, the sun is shining all day long and it never goes down till the next day. It's quite beautiful but a bitch to get some sleep in.
"Drömmen ommigikvällminbrud."* - shitty translation is shitty. It's supposed to translate to "Dream of me my Bride." Correct if wrong please!
"-painted Runes decorating their bodies.*"—Runes are an alphabet that was used most commonly in Norwegian and British history; they are still used today by Pagans everywhere, though they are mostly associated with the use of magic now.
"It was a Union, a mock wedding of the Sun and moon coming together at the peak of the Gods power.*"—I follow the British traditions of this festival more than Scandinavian, but in the English festival of Beltane, couples would often run into the forest and consummate in the name of the Goddess and God. I kind of combined what I know from Beltane and Litha traditions on this one guys so bare with me, but most of the 'weddings' in the Viking days were mock weddings that were not real but just for one night.
