A/N: Warning: This chapter contains violence and drinking.
Before I knew it, Saturday had come, and with it the duel. Andren outlined a square in the dirt with chalk, where four waist-high poles were placed at the corners, and a blanket on the ground inside them. A rope was placed around the poles.
When the duel approached, I noticed I had nothing to wear. I mentioned this to Andren, who told me to look in my cabin. I entered my cabin, did as Andren instructed, and found a set of black chain mail laying on my bed. I was in the middle of changing into this mail when Andren walked in.
"The duel will begin short-" She turned around quickly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."
"It's okay. I actually need your help." She turned back around, the blush still on her cheeks. I had removed my shoes, socks and shirt, but couldn't figure out how the armor was supposed to be worn. After pulling a white wool shirt over my head, Andren helped me with the padding and then the mail itself. I put on black wool pants and black boots found at the foot of the bed. By the time I was finished, Andren had disappeared, so I went to the dueling square in-between the cabins and the front gate. There I found Andren, dressed in her armor and leaning on one of the poles.
"Why must I fight you? I have no quarrel with you."
"Maurrán hafa neinn deild með nakkvarr bōt. An ant has no quarrel with a boot. And no, I don't plan to step on you. I only plan on winning."
And with that, she ducked under the rope and entered the square. I followed. Grimm leaned on the rope, facing us.
"Rules are simple. First one to bleed or step off the blanket loses. You each get three shields; after that, you're on your own. Taunts are allowed, cursing is not. Begin."
Andren unsheathed Sverrir and picked up a shield simultaneously. I tried to do the same and failed miserably.
"Koma fram dragi. Come on slowpoke." I understood what she said without needing a translation.
"Deild með ek, ok yð vili falla. Quarrel with me, and you will be slain." I swung at her, but she blocked before Ulfsbíta could touch her shoulder.
She lunged at my thigh, but I lowered my shield in time to deflect her. We went back and forth, each trying to gain some upper ground when none was to be had. To lighten the mood, Grimm entered the ring during our break and taunted us, which ended in Andren chasing him out.
"You're refereeing, Jakobson, remember that." Our fight went on until I finally managed to cut Andren's cheek. She stumbled back, tracing the thin line of blood that trailed slowly down her jaw.
"Erik surely is one of the Einherjar! He has proven himself worthy this day. In five days we shall go up to Valafell."
For four days Andren taught me their customs and those of their ancestors. I read lots of books from the camp's library, and practiced my language skills with Andren.
"Ek nauðsyn flesk. I need bacon."
"That ðæt makes a sound like 'that' in English."
I also ate more. While Andren ate only two meals a day-one in the morning and one at night-I packed my three meals with fish, grains, berries, root vegetables, and cabbage. I noticed that Andren ate the same things I did, her drink of choice being the only thing that differed. She drank copious amounts of mead, and I had seen it being drunk by the others the most, followed occasionally by ale. It was rare that was wine poured, although the children of Odin loved the grape-derived intoxicant above all others. I had tried each of these at some point in my learning, and found that I liked mead best; it had a hard but sweet taste that the ale and wine lacked. Ale was bitter; not sweet at all, and the wine was too potent for my liking.
A/N: I do not own the 'ant' line, Marvel does. I simply translated it into Old Norse. All rights to the original line go to Marvel.