Hello all, Thank you to all my readers. Minimal editing on this chapter I'm just too excited and want to get everything down on print before I lose it again.

Chapter 13 The Weight

For a brief moment, as man ran to his woman and woman to her man, each heart was filled with jubilance and gladness. The nip of the rising autumn air dried the sweat from their brows and crusted the wet dirt that tangled their hair. There are hours for rest, and hours for wakefulness; nights for sobriety and nights for drunkenness. An unspoken understanding was that this was both a night for rest and a night for restlessness…

Athelstan gently traced the curve of his wife's bare shoulder blade imagining he was drawing the smooth shape of the crescent moon. Both laid in silent elation though it was still early and sounds of festivities could be heard outside.

"With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation." Athelstan whispered almost soundlessly.

"You are muttering again," his wife stirred.

"Apologies, my dear Helena. I am just remembering something I read somewhere before," he sighed. This did not sway Helena from turning over on her side and resting her hand on his.

"You are still thinking of Rollo and his sorrow?" she asked.

Athelstan was always amazed at his wife's ability to know him completely.

"I am beginning to believe that sorrow prepares us for joy." He shook his head. "It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from one's heart, far better things will take their place," Athelstan sighed wishing these were the words he had spoken to Rollo as they sat together on the ship.

"Even the anguish of losing the one you love?" Her question caused Athelstan to pause; he was unable to fathom the thought of losing his own beloved and had never been in that place. How could he even begin to console Rollo for his loss? "No truth can cure the sorrow one feels when losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness can cure that sorrow."

All Athelstan could do was kiss Helena's cheek in agreement, her wisdom far surpassed her age in all aspects and for that he loved her.

"You have been very quiet since arriving home," Ragnar whispered to Lagertha while he undid his boots.

"His pain is not weakness, you know," Lagertha snipped throwing down her washrag. Ragnar was taken aback feeling he missed a crucial part of the evening.

"Please tell me you are not speaking about my brother," He huffed. "If I know Rollo he will stop this pouting by weeks end."

"He is but a man just as you are," her voice rose, "he has scars just as you do even if some of them are unseen to us."

Ragnar rose to his feet with the attempt to keep his voice under control.

"My scars remind me that I did indeed survive my deepest wounds. That in itself is an accomplishment. And they bring to mind something else, too. They remind me that the damage life has inflicted on me has left me stronger." His lips curled around his white teeth. "What has hurt me in the past has made me better readied to face the present." His eyes darted back and forth between Lagertha's for a moment before continuing, "If you ask me it is better they are both alone. Less damage will be done. As for Frigga, she is the Chieftess of one of the most powerful towns in our world; she has riches we cannot begin to dream of and command of more ships than any one I have met. So do forgive me, dear wife if I do not weep for the time of loneliness she will endure."

"Man can never know the loneliness a woman knows," her voice began to shake, "man lies in the woman's womb only to gather strength, he nourishes himself from this, and then he rises and goes into the world, into his work, into battle." Lagertha's voice was that of a mother whose children are grown; calm and deep as the night. "He is not lonely. He is busy. The memory of the swim in births fluid gives him energy, completion. Woman may be busy too, but she feels empty and full of pain." She took a long breath. "The betrayals of war are childlike compared to the betrayals during peace. That is what your brother and Frigga had together, peace.

The bitterness of drink no longer bit at Floki's taste buds when he realized he had crossed over the line into a frenzied intoxication; precisely where he wanted to be. The hot room swirled with chatter and merry movement late into the night only quickening the haze he so longed for. Floki knew his heart could not be mended with bottomless grogs and wild herbs but for now his mind could be swayed into seeing whatever truth he desired.

There is no respect between the souls of two individuals if their minds cannot trust each other and there is no trust between them if their hearts cannot accept the truth of each other. Floki had never accepted the truth about his sisters or his parents or even himself. He knew his spirit would never find rest until he learned to accept the past, but for this moment he did not want rest. He wanted fire, and hatred and to feel every aspect of Frigga's betrayal right down to the moment she looked into his eyes before he cast her into the dark waters of Oslo.

Lifting his hand to his eyes, Floki attempted to massage sobriety under his lids to no avail. He let his head fall heavily into his palm and eyes droop to the table pushing back the forth-coming spinning sensation that was sure to follow. He noticed the outline of sweat his hand had left on the wooden table before he felt the presence of someone beside him.

"Go away, unless you are to join me in my pain," he hissed without turning his gaze.

"Pain, darling is a loathsome part of being human," a tender voice spoke. Floki dizzily lifted his head, with his ears pulsing when he found himself looking into the eyes of his mother. He could never forget those piercing gray pools, the eyes that begged to him from behind the barricaded door. His mind swam in a furry of intemperance. "We have both learned it can feel like a stab to your heart, something I wished you would never have to endure in your life here." Though Floki knew it was impossible for her to truly be there his eyes ached with hot tears. "Pain is a swift wound to your heart and spirit that you cannot escape. But, you will come to learn, my darling that because of pain, you are able to feel beauty, tenderness, and freedom of healing. And when you accept it, your healing will feel like the warm wind against your face when you are spreading your wings!" Floki's tears were unstoppable now as his mother cupped her hand to her son's cheek. "You may not have wings growing out of you back, but healing is the closest thing that will give you that wind against your face."

The candlelight seemed to dance and twist on the gray wall of Rollo's room reminding him of the temperate fog their ship journeyed through many weeks ago. When his dream of riches was swayed by his dreams of a raven girl. His left shoulder ached under the weight of his body though he could not bring himself to move or turn over. Behind him, Rollo could tell his light would soon extinguish itself by the height at which his shadow grew and grew against the wall before him. His eyes were heavy but not fully from sleep, a part of him wished someone, any one, would come and sit with him. Even attempt to console him; often times he knew others called him cold though he knew he was only sad.

The worst type of crying isn't the kind everyone can see, the wailing on street corners, and the tearing at clothes. No, the worst kind happens when your soul weeps and no matter what you do there is no way to comfort it.

"I want to weep," Rollo thought. "I want to be comforted." He was aware that his eyes began to well. Never before had this realization hit him with such a force. "I am tired of being strong. What if I was to be foolish and frightened for once? Just for a small while," Rollo's thoughts were interrupted by a yawn which convinced his eyes to close, "that's all... one day...an hour… a momen."

A/N : Can anyone say... stages of grieving?! Thank you to my friend Tig for letting her girl Helena make a little cameo in my story.