Hello readers who thought I was dead! :D I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, but here, for your enjoyment, is chapter five! REVIEW OR ELSE I WILL BE TORN APART BY GOATS!
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Berwald was led up the cobbled steps of the low cut long house where Tino lived with his cousin's and aunt. Heaps of drying winter leaves waiting by the scrap log pile to be burned later tonight for Valborg's greeted Berwald with an array of dull colors.* Two thinly stripped birch saplings were tied together with sinew, cascades of garland fluttering and twirling underneath the door eaves.* Berwald smiled softly once more to himself. When he was a lad he was so fearful of walking up the steps to the small Finn's house, bashful and embarrassed to even be in the Finnish boy's presence. Berwald was clumsy, awkward, and gangly, but Tino, oh his lovely Tino was smooth, delicate, and graceful. Berwald took a small peek up at the petite boy, still aware that his hands were clasped in his, his lengthy fingers wrapping carefully along Tino's dainty ones.
To Berwald's amazement Tino had a soft glowing blush poised on his silk-like cheeks. It only made Berwald's heart beat more with the thought that maybe, perhaps; maybe, the Finn was blushing due to Berwald. He bit his lip and tensed his shoulders, trying his best to not say something stupid.
Before Berwald could think anymore about his wife's adorably red face, Tino had nudged the heavy latch on the door and pushed it open with a creek. The wood groaned and skidded over the dirt floor before allowing the Finn and cautious Swede to pass. This was Tino's home. Berwald wanted to make an impression of good will to Tino and his family; he wanted to portray himself as the best choice for Tino's husband. He wanted to prove that he was Tino's best choice for the bonfires.
"Täti! I'm home!" Tino called out into the surprsingly warm air, and with Berwald's dissapointment, let go of the Swede's hands.* When no answer was returned he shrugged and wandered off into the big living space which was covered with rugs on ever wall rung. Berwald, hunched slightly from the stubbornly short celling, took in a humming breath of all the wonderful smells of the house.
He could see by the hearth a few racks of lamb boiled and hissed in a low set cauldron, the lumpy contents of barley mash spoiled with honey thickening in small cakes for the children later on at the feast. The sweet air mixed in with the sour scent of drying skins near an opened window waffed through Berwald's nose with welcome.
Berwald smiled to himself. This was a home that had a family, a home that Berwald would like to live in one day with his beloved wife. Ah yes he hoped to all the Gods that he could remmeber that once day he would be blessed to have a young son and Tino for his wife. Oh how he hopped.
Walking along the mantle he spied a few clay jars of pickled herring, his stomach growling slightly, angry at Berwald for only eating a light breakfast that morning. Berwald sighed and tried to hush his hungry stomach.
Tino, seeming to hear Berwald's stomach growl, smiled up at the Swede and motioned for him to sit down on some willow mats while he fixed him a snack. The Swede did as he was told, watching the Finn wander off into the cooking area, producing a few goodies on a clay bowl.
Tino offered Berwald the bowl ladened with a few strips of pickled herring, herbed potatoes, and a few breaks of bread, the Finn was even sweet enough to slip a small honey cake from the wooden platter uptop on the carved table. Berwald smiled kindly at the Finn, wondering if this was what if felt like to have a little wife. Berwald hoped so.
While Berwald was eating quietly, with more acquired manners, mind you, Tino set off to rinsing a few strips of cloth that his aunt had weaved just this morning in hot water. After Tino had ruined his clean white tunic this morning while wrestling the goats out of his foolishness, he began to wonder what he would change into for tonight. He would have to borrow one of Nikolas's festival tunics, maybe the one with the dark blue strip at the collar. He sighed. He wished he hadn't gotten his white tunic dirty… he was planning on wearing it tonight when he… danced.
Tino's gut wrenched in his stomach. Oh dear Gods he was dancing tonight…Tino dropped one of the linen strips in the wash pale, he swallowed hard. Glancing behind his back he looked to Berwald who was gruffly chewing a wedge of rye bread. Tino quickly turned back, his face anew with tints of fine red. So far the two had kissed multiple times and had made their feelings know to each other on more than one occasion. So why was it so awkward? Tino sighed with distress.
After fishing the strips of cloth out from the pale he took a small clump of honey and some crushed comfrey roots and set them on a leather strip. Then, balancing the dripping linen he walked back to the cross legged Swede who was finishing the last bits of his meal. Only the small honey cake remained untouched on the rim of the bowl.
"You don't like sweets?" Tino ask, smiling when Berwald stood up and placed his bowl in the wash pale, along with taking a hold of some of the dripping cloth to help with the Finn's burden.
"Mmmmhhh… I l'ke sw't th'ngs…" Berwald mumbled. I like you, don't I? Berwald thought bashfully.
Tino laughed quietly. "Then why don't you take a bite, we can share it if you like?" he offered, leading the Swede towards the hay loft that he and Nikolas shared. Berwald followed obediently.
"It okay. Yoo t'ke." Berwald urged the Finn, smiling slightly. Tino was just too cute and incredibly kind; it only made Berwald want him more than ever.
Tino frowned playfully but nodded, scooting closer to the Swede.
Berwald held up the small cake between his fingers for the Finn, expecting Tino take it and eat it. What he was NOT expecting was for Tino to lean in and slowly nibble off a bit of the honeyed treat with his teeth, his lips lightly touching Berwald's fingers for a few fleeting seconds, his eyes seeming to smirk at the tall Swede. Berwald blinked in amazement. Once the small last bit of the cake was eaten, Tino slowly licked Berwald's index finger, careful to not miss a single drop of honey.
Tino held his hand over his mouth as he chewed, pleased with himself and his little show. If that didn't get Berwald's blood racing he didn't know what would!
Tino smiled, his heart pounding all the way to his throat. "Well um… Now I need you to climb up to the loft, it will be easier to treat your wounds with the added light." Tino instructed, motioning for Berwald to follow him up the ladder. Tino quickly turned around to hide his growing blush. After a few more seconds of heated staring Berwald did as he was told, only whishing he hadn't.
Following Tino up the ladder was not the smartest thing Berwald could do. Not now or ever. As Berwald hooked his hands on the shaven boughs of the wood he looked up to see the most wonderful thing his two eyes had ever laid eyes on. Right in front of him was the ass of the Gods!
Tino's finely sculpted bottom was barely a few inches away from the Swede's vision, and all he could do was drool. He had to control himself. He had to wait till tonight to bed Tino, but damn it all to Hel!* That beautiful ass… it was like it was calling him, mocking him… Just a little pinch couldn't hurt, just one…little…pinch?
"Perkele!" Tino yelped in the musty air of the loft. He fell foreword into the hay and sat up bewildered. He looked up to see Berwald, eyes wide, face blushing madly red.
"Um…." The tall giant breathed. Oh damn…Oh damn… Oh damn….!
Tino stared for a few seconds before laughing wildly, rubbing his sore ass.
"Haha, I told Nikolas to shave those damn pine boughs. I'm always getting poked by the splinters in the ladder rungs! Sorry about that." Tino laughed awkwardly before turning back to the task at hand.
He wadded in the deep hay till he came to the blankets of his makeshift bed. Patting down the blankets he set the leather with the bits of ingredients on a loose board that Nikolas and he used to practice their runes on during the winter nights.* He turned back behind him to find Berwald, still poised by the last few steps of the ladder, his face incredibly red.
"Berwald? Are you okay? I can't treat your wounds if your all the way down their!" Tino laughed, grabbing the Swede's wrist and heaving him up. Berwald shook his head and turned away.
"Hnnnn." He grunted into the air, ashamed of his weak actions. But it wasn't his fault Tino had a perfect body, a body Berwald wouldn't mind mapping out with his fingers… lips…or tongue… or even his manhood—
"Hnnnfff!" Berwald grunted with pain as a burning hot cloth was wedged against his wounded chest, steaming slightly. Tino pressed the cloth into the wound deeper, apologizing like a mad man for causing Berwald pain.
Then, after a few seconds, Tino removed the cloth and replaced it with a slab of honey. Coating the ripped flesh lightly he smoothed the syrupy nectar around the Swede's skin to ensure fast healing. Tino leaned in quietly before peppering the mixture of crushed comfrey roots to the wound, before patching it up with a dry long strip of cloth.*
"Tack…Hnn… Kiitos…" Berwald murmured after a second thought.* Tino smiled brightly.
"Wow! Your Finnish pronunciation is very good." Tino complimented Berwald as he set to work on his shoulder, still mildly aware that the muscular Swede was indeed shirtless.
"Th'nks…" I learned it for you… Berwald thought in his head. He blushed more fiercely in the shining light from the blown glass windows. It was true. When he was little during the winter when his father hadn't needed him to watch the herds of reindeer, Berwald would coop himself in his little cubby-like bed and read from the many stone tablets of the Finnish alphabet and the stretched goat hide bound books full of fables of Finnish lore. It had taken him three winters, but he had taught himself the basics of the Finnish language, all for his little wife.
After Finland had done all he could for the bruise he took Berwald's paw like hand and set it on his lap. Berwald's lungs stopped their intake of breath, trying to reel out the images from his dreams and fantasies—which was hard to do since his hand was practically resting in his wife's lap.
Tino hummed as he slowly peeled the dirtied cloth that he had fastened on Berwald's cut hand the night before. Inspecting the slowly healing wound he smiled.
"You heal fast Berwald, like a true warrior. Your cut shouldn't give you too much trouble, but your shoulder will be mildly sore tonight if you try to leap the bonfires. Also, try not to get your bandages wet if you can help it, and it might hurt a bit peeling it off once there healed." Tino drawled on, cleaning his hands on his already soiled tunic, then, thinking for a second, he pulled out Berwald's dark blue tunic that he had tied to a sash around his waist.
"Here you go." Tino said, holding out the rough wooly cloth for Berwald. Berwald nodded in thanks before sliding the thick and broad cloth back in place over his shoulders. Berwald was adjusting the strings to the tunic's collar when his eyes caught the sight of brilliant color.
"Fl'w'rs…" he whispered, his eyes fixed on the brightness of the leaves tucked neatly underneath a potatoes sack pillow. Tino swallowed hard before smacking his hands down on the pillow.
"What flowers?" He muttered shyly, sitting his bum on the pile of hay that was his bed. Berwald raised up one of his brows. "Yoo had fl'e'rs l'st n'ght…. Did yoo h've dream?" Berwald asked, craning his head closer to the Finn's, staring at him with such intensity it made Tino's toes curl.
Tino yelped softly, still not used to the Swede's intent glare. "Ah…maybe." He eluded, wedging his body closer to the flowers. Berwald blinked once before resuming his unintentional glare.
"Why th't hay wet…?" Berwald asked, gesturing with his head to a pile of hay that looked to be damp. Tino paled. He could have sworn he removed all of the soiled hay from his dream!
!
"Ah… Björt spilled… milk? Yes! Milk!" Tino muttered quickly.
Berwald looked skeptically at the Finn before letting it go.
"So… who did yoo dream of?" Berwald muttered, not meeting Tino's eyes directly, choosing to stare at the elk patterns on the woolen blanket sprawled on the hay.
Tino fidgeted in his seat, feeling the damp crunch of the flowers stems underneath him. He bit his lip and rolled his tongue across his teeth. Could he tell Berwald? Or would he burst from embarrassment. He had been dreaming of the damn Swede naked in his bed not but a few hours ago, and now Berwald wanted to know who he dreamed of? Perkele his life…
Tino exhaled loudly. "Er… Well…. You know him." Tino trailed off.
Berwald's heart stopped. He pressed his hands to the hay and leaned back. Berwald knew him? So then… Tino didn't dream of the Swede but someone else? Berwald felt his world crumbling down. His face was immediately torn into an unconscious scowl that sent shivers of fear down Tino's spine. Berwald squared his jaw and bit down hard, willing himself to stand still instead of run from the loft like the damn coward that he felt like. But the sensation still hurt. His wife had not dreamed of him.
"He has the most shockingly blonde hair in this world and the next; it's like the wheat fields that grow from the north during the last Harvest, wild and strong…" Tino took a quick glance at the giant before him, trying to soften Berwald's glare with a smile of his own.
" His eyes are like smoothed glass that the ocean brings ashore from ravaged ship wreck, lustrous but misty, holding so many emotions at once, the only portal that tells me what he's really thinking…" Tino slowly extended his weight to his forearms as he slinked quietly to the Swede.
"His body is of that of a lion from the far off places that our ancestors traveled. Taunt muscles flexing and moving, long arms and wonderfully long legs, with fingers that I would always dream would one day touch me with gentleness and passion…" Tino slowly cupped his hands to Berwald's thin but strong fingers, lightly squeezing them.
"But it's his heart that I love the most. The heart of a King Stag wild and proud, loving but strong. He is the one I will choose at the bonfires…" Tino's voice slowly hushed now, his eyes trained on Berwald's in a dead lock.
"Berwald… Do you know who I dreamt of last night?" Tino asked, his voice cracking slightly from what he guessed was added lust.
Berwald swallowed deep in his throat before clumsily shaking his head in a silent 'no'.
Tino smiled and gave his fingers another quick squeeze, noting that Berwald's hands had become mildly sweaty, his glasses foggy up slightly. Tino leaned in closer to the giant of a man, resting his hands lightly on the Swede's thighs, smirking softly to himself. His lips grazed against Berwald's throat oh-so-slowly before fluttering against his ear. Tino smiled devilishly.
"I dreamt of… You." He felt Berwald's pulse quicken with satisfaction.
"M-me…?" Berwald's voice huskily asked, unsure of himself. Tino laughed lightly, nodding vigorously. He splayed his hands against Berwald's chest like he had so fondly done in his dream. He smiled and happily sighed as Berwald's cautious hands wrapped themselves delicately against Tino's back.
Berwald could barely believe it. The Gods had given him a sign, they had enchanted Tino's dreams and now… Now Berwald was sure that he was to be Tino's husband! He felt his heart leap with a new found joy that bubbled within him like a hot spring or a volcano. He felt so happy, he wanted to celebrate, and it seemed like Tino did too.
Slowly, softly and a bit awkwardly, two huge hands carelessly sat Tino atop Berwald's lap, Berwald's eyes never leaving those of the Finn's.
Tino blinked softly as he was moved atop the Swede's body, his heart thudding in his chest like the hunting horns that blazed outside, signaling the hunting party's departure. In that moment Tino forgot everything, his chores, his soiled tunic, and the flowers underneath his bed, and the dance— all that mattered now was Berwald and him. That's how Tino wanted to keep it.
Tino loving cupped his hands to Berwald's cheeks and leaned in closely, keeping eye contact like his life depended on it. And perhaps it did. Perhaps that solid stare that made Tino shiver to his very core was what kept his blood rushing and his heart floating. Berwald was the key to his survival as primitive as it sounded, but then again it was a primitive urge that the young Finn felt almost every second he was in the mans presence. It was Berwald that made him feel this way.
"T'no…" The voice almost startled the Finn, but swiftly he regained his composure.
"Mmmhhh, Yes Berwald?" Tino asked, his eyes shifting slightly to notice how much green was actually in Berwald's eyes as well as blue.
"W…Will ya… Be m' w'fe…" Berwald muttered, eyes incredibly serious yet tender.
Tino's breath hitched in his throat, his throat becoming dry.
"Yes…" was all he said before their lips were crashed together in a kiss that meant the same thing to them both. New found love.
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Authors Note:
I was going to make this chapter longer but since I'll probably update it this weekend I thought I'd just put it in the next chapter. FINALLY THINGS ARE ACTUALLY MOVING BETWEEN THE TWO! (Tino you damn lusty Finn!)
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-"Heaps of drying winter leaves waiting by the scrap log pile to be burned later tonight for Valborg's greeted Berwald with an array of dull colors.*"—Valborg Is basically an evening festival in some parts of Finland and Sweden where winter leaves are burned for the signaling of summer.
- "Two thinly stripped birch saplings were tied together with sinew, cascades of garland fluttering and twirling underneath the door eaves.*"—Finnish and Norwegian tradition. In Norway garlands of greenery were hung above doors and barns for good luck while in Finland the hung two birch saplings from the eaves of their door to welcome visitors.
-"Täti! I'm home!"—"Aunt" in Finnish.
- "He had to control himself. He had to wait till tonight to bed Tino, but damn it all to Hel!*"—Norse Goddess of Helhein… or Hell.
- "Patting down the blankets he set the leather with the bits of ingredients on a loose board that Nikolas and he used to practice their runes on during the winter nights.*"—Alphabet that was the main source of written works in Scandinavia and Britain, still used and practiced today by many Pagans.
- "Tino leaned in quietly before peppering the mixture of crushed comfrey roots to the wound, before patching it up with a dry long strip of cloth.*"—herb that helped heal wounds and stopped bruising and blood loss with cuts. Honey was also a healing agent discovered by the Egyptians.
-"Tack…Hnn… Kiitos…" Berwald murmured after a second thought.*- "Tack"= thank you (In Swedish) "Kiitos"= thank you (In Finnish)
