Three days later, the hunting party returned to Brosmegard with the skewered body of the bull elk as their prize.
The ladies of the hall were all there to greet them, embracing the men even as they teased them for their muddy clothes and sour odors after so many days out in the wilderness. Herleif knew that he was in much need of a bath once things were all settled, but first, he would greet his mother and be welcomed back properly. Following along after his father, and with Gunnar in tow, they handed their hunting spears and cloaks over to the servants for cleaning before ascending the stairs to the hall where Lady Inga waited for them.
"Go on then, boys. Greet your mother," Bjǫrn ordered, waving a hand to his sons after kissing his wife before the doors.
"Mother," Herleif said kindly, kissing Inga on the cheek before she took his face in her soft hands and kissed both of his. While his father was tall and broad, his mother was short and rail-thin, so Herleif had to lean down to embrace her.
"Here are my wonderful sons, finally home from the hunt," Inga smiled happily, speaking with the musical lilt of her eastern Valkenheim accent. The dress she wore was bright blue and finely made, with silver brooches at the shoulders stringed with colorful beads and a silver circlet in her dark brown hair, the same color as Herleif and Gunnar's. Perhaps their father had possessed a head of dark hair once as well, but the man had been bald with a graying beard for so long that Herleif couldn't exactly remember. Inga affectionately patted his cheek, then embraced Gunnar next, who was just as tall as she was. "Ah, my little Bear Cub... Welcome home."
"I'm not a cub anymore, Mother..." Gunnar grumbled as he wrapped his arms around Inga and hugged her tight.
Their mother laughed happily and kissed Gunnar's cheek; then, she spared Herleif another quick glance before turning to Bjǫrn with a small sigh. "So, I take it your time away was fortuitous then?"
"It was," nodded Bjǫrn. Herleif hadn't missed the look his mother had given him, and his mind was suddenly full of ideas and possibilities as to what his parents might be speaking of, but his hopes were quickly dashed as his father put his arm around Inga's shoulders and pointed to where the elk carcass was hauled out of a cart in the yard and the hounds were being taken to the kennels for food and rest. "We hunted a true king of the forest! You should have heard Herleif giving orders when we finally had the beast cornered. He led the men like a true Warlord, just like his father! And Gunnar... Oh, that boy knows no fear, charging the elk like a mighty drengr. Did nothing but piss the poor beast off, but his heart was in the thrust, no doubt. Now its antlers will adorn our hall so we may always remember the day we took it down together. Right, lads?"
Gunnar excitedly cheered his support as Bjǫrn clapped him proudly on the shoulder, but Herleif could only offer a tight-lipped smile and nod. As exciting as the hunt had been, pitting their skills against such a majestic beast out in the wilds of Bilrost, it all seemed like a distant memory now as his mind was once again filled with the face of the girl who seemed to haunt him like a spirit. It was as if he had been cursed by some Shaman's spell, doomed to linger with those he loved but feel incomplete among their company. If he ever thought there was a way to be free from such torment, then surely it was by seeking her out rather than remaining apart, but as he scanned the faces of the gathered crowd, he did not see her.
"Just what we need, more beasts to decorate our hall with," Inga huffed, then patted Herleif on the arm. "Come inside, and I will serve you now that you have all returned."
Herleif glanced around once more, forever hopeful of the dream he wished would become a reality, but as his family stepped inside the hall and the rest of the hunting party began to follow, he hung his head and left the dead king of the forest behind in the yard to its final fate. The entryway to the hall was gloomy and only lit with a few candles, but a raging hearth further within lit the high rafters with an orange glow that warmed the bones after so many days out in the cold and rain. A smile graced Herleif's lips to see it, but just barely. Then, a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder, making him jump, and he looked up to see Ander Ottarsson standing beside him with a smile and the glimmer of firelight twinkling in his eyes.
"You did good out there, lad," said the old Raider, giving Herleif's shoulder a friendly squeeze. "It's no easy thing leading men as old as me at your age, but you certainly have a knack for it."
"Thank you, Lord Ander," Herleif said with an awkward smile. "It was an honor to hunt beside you, and I hope we might go raiding again soon."
"And we will leave a bloody trail that will see us awaited in Valhǫll, I'm sure," Ander chuckled. Then he pulled Herleif in closer and lowered his voice as they walked together through the hall. "Not too soon for you, though, of course. You are growing to become a good and honorable man, Herleif, one that we can all be proud of, and a good man always has something to live for. Never forget that."
Herleif wasn't sure what to say to such advice, so he simply pretended to understand and nodded. Ander gave a wink before letting him go, and Herleif watched the old man walk away in hopes of catching sight of his daughter, but she was still nowhere to be found in the hall. Giving a disappointed sigh, he made his way around the long hearth to where his family stood beside his father's high seat, and his mother was already offering the jarl the first horn of mead to welcome him home.
Jarl Bjǫrn raised the black drinking horn decorated with silver and held it aloft, claiming the attention of everyone in his hall as he spoke. "The gods have granted us a successful hunt! Tonight, we will make an offering of our bounty's blood to honor them! May they grant us good fortune in our raids and in our battles against the tinmen and those red dogs from Thurshamrar! But for now, drink with me, my mighty drengir! Skál!"
The cheer was echoed back to him by everyone in the hall, shouted with pride and praise for the jarl. Herleif shouted as well once he took his place beside Gunnar while the servants began to walk among the hunters to serve them cups of mead.
Inga refilled the horn once Bjǫrn had drunk his fill and handed it to Gunnar next, who inspected its contents with a gloomy frown upon his lips. "It's not even full," he complained.
"And if it was, you would be passed out asleep before the offering tonight," Inga answered pointedly. Gunnar opened his mouth as if he intended to argue, but another sharp look from his mother quickly saw the boy drinking what had been given to him without a fuss.
Herleif watched with a smirk and patiently waited as Inga took back the horn to refill and offered it to him next. He was thinking about how he could rub Gunnar's nose in the fact that he would get a full horn, perhaps spill a bit just to show that he could, but that would probably earn him a cuff from his father for wasting good mead. Surely, there was some way to go about it, but soon, he realized that he had not received any mead at all. Looking to his mother, he saw her handing the filled horn back to her father to enjoy instead.
"Mother? Am I not to be served as well?" he asked, feeling a touch annoyed that he, her oldest son, would be forgotten and left to go without tasting the elixir of the gods. Inga blushed and offered a sheepish smile by way of apology, but Herleif's attention was quickly taken by the sight of his father stepping toward him with a determined but cheerful look in his eyes.
"Not today, my son," Bjǫrn said and gestured out into the hall with horn in hand. "But, I think there is someone else here who would like to offer you a drink..."
At first, Herleif did not understand his father's meaning, but then, looking out at the crowd with brows knotted in confusion, he suddenly understood. A space had been made in the middle of the hall, the crowd parting before the flame-dancing hearth, and Herleif froze where he stood as he finally set his eyes on her.
"Go on, lad," his father whispered. "No reason to keep her waiting."
Herleif nodded and licked his lips, but it was not for want of mead. He did not take his eyes off of her for an instant, and as he moved, it was as if he were in a trance, the spell on him growing stronger as he approached and with no resistance from him. Before he knew it, he was making his way down from the high seat without feeling his legs move beneath him, and he somehow found himself standing before her as if answering a challenge that could not be refused.
Adorned in a red woolen dress and lit from behind by the hearth, Audhilda's beauty struck him like a goddess of the Æsir. Her golden hair was bound in a long braid behind her back, with small golden rings adorning her ears. The paleness of her skin was tinged a rosy pink as she blushed, and from the way her lips parted and her dazzling blue eyes widened as he approached, she exuded a youthful sense of charm, excitement, and fear that drew Herleif in and refused to let him go. He did not wish to remember the meaning of free will as he found himself utterly captured by her gaze, and even with everyone in the hall watching them, he could only revel in her presence and feel his heart race like mighty Sleipnir across the sky.
Audhilda looked nervously over to where her mother and father stood in the crowd, her cheeks flushing bright even in the gloomy hall, but she took a slow breath to steady herself and gave a shy smile as Herleif approached her. In her hands was a drinking horn, one much more modest in design than that of the jarl's, and she dutifully presented it already full of golden mead.
"Drink well, Lord Herleif, and know that we are all greatly pleased for your safe return home," she said with a slight bow of her head, her eyes lingering on the ground.
Her voice was as beautiful as the bells Herleif had heard in Ashfeld on the day they called sabbath, and as he took the horn from her, he only wished that she would look at him again. She did so once he brought the curved horn to his lips and took a long drink. Her eyes sparkled in the firelight as they shared that quiet moment in the middle of the hall, and Herleif swore without a shadow of a doubt that it was the best mead he had tasted in all his life.
"Thank you, Lady Audhilda. You honor me with your kindness," he said as he gave the half-empty horn back to her and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He immediately felt foolish for doing so, acting more like a drunken brute rather than the son of a jarl in the company of such a fine lady, but Audhilda didn't seem to care.
"The honor is mine, my lord," she said with another polite bow.
For a moment, they just stared at each other, unsure of what to say now that the ceremony had been honored and the rest relied on them. In the growing silence, Herleif willed himself to think of something to say before she truly thought of him as an oaf. "Did you happen to see the elk we returned with?" he asked her.
"Oh yes, it looks to be quite the majestic beast. Your father must be proud to have slain such a creature."
"It was certainly majestic before we killed it," Herleif chuckled, thinking he had something to boast of that would catch Audhilda's interest. "Once the thing was dead, it released its bladder and sprayed everywhere. The whole forest smelled of piss after that..."
Somewhere in the hall, the words 'daft boy...' were muttered in a disappointed whisper. Herleif's face went hot once he realized his mistake, and he watched as Audhilda's smile fell from her lips right before his eyes. Her beautiful face turned stricken as if she could smell the animal's foul odor still clinging to his clothes. Herleif panicked, desperate for another drink as his throat went tight, and he nearly choked, but he did not dare make a grab for the drinking horn still clutched in Audhilda's hands.
"I-I mean... that is what all animals do when they die," he blubbered once he had found his voice again. He wished it had remained lost for the rest of his days as it betrayed him. "Men too, when they are killed... I know from the battles I fought in Ashfeld." Audhilda didn't need to know this. This was all far beyond the life of comfort she led on her family's farm, and her discomfort was clear upon her face plain as day. For some reason beyond his comprehension, he continued anyway. "I sailed there with my father this past raiding season for the first time. Killed my first man there in combat. A Knight. No idea who he was, really." He needed to stop. He had to stop, but he couldn't. Why couldn't he just stop talking? "Some old man who would have been better off being a farmer... We came across dozens of them. Most we killed. When they tried to stop us from claiming our treasure, I mean... Only if they fought back. I suppose it is more honorable that way..."
"And... did they all piss themselves when they died?" Audhilda asked hesitantly.
"No..." Some of the men had shit themselves as well, but Herleif had just enough sense left in his rattled mind not to say so. "...but perhaps it is better not to speak of such things."
"Perhaps not," she said in agreement, then promptly turned on her heel to walk back to where her parents waited with the drinking horn clutched to her chest.
Herleif wanted to throw himself into the fire as he watched her go. Surely, he had shamed himself beyond all saving in front of the entire hall, and a quick glance back at his family proved it. His father was rubbing at his bald head and blowing out his cheeks as if he was impressed by his son's ability to make a fool of himself. Inga stood with one hand pressed over her mouth in that motherly way of not wanting to take responsibility and also blaming herself for Herleif's blatant stupidity, while Gunnar simply looked unimpressed and confused by what had just occurred. The entire hall seemed to break its spell of silence as well, falling into disappointed grumbles and muffled laughter as people expressed their displeasure or amusement at his pathetic attempt to woo a beautiful girl.
There was no doubt in Herleif's mind that the moment had been arranged upon their return to Brosmegard. Not that it made things any less perfect, but clearly, his father and Ander had been discussing a match between their families while on the hunt. Now he had ruined everything in just a matter of moments, pissing away any chance he had as surely as the elk had emptied its bladder as it died. He really needed to strike that memory from his mind and never speak of it again.
"Lord Herleif..."
The sound of his name on Audhilda's lips caused Herleif to spin around just as he was about to return to his family, his heart leaping into his throat as he found her looking back at him. Despite every stupid word that had come out of his mouth, she smiled at him sweetly and dropped her gaze to offer another respectful bow before she spoke again.
"I hope you will enjoy the offering tonight. After the beast has been properly cleaned, of course. It is good to have you home again."
Herleif stood frozen in shock as she turned away once more. It was only when he realized his chance had not been ruined hit him like a blow from Thor's hammer that he took a quick step after her. "I would enjoy it much more if you would join me at my father's table, my lady," he t blurted out before the moment slipped through his fingers.
Audhilda's gaze shot up to him; her lips parted in surprise. The hall once again grew quiet, and as Herleif held his breath and waited, she looked to her father and mother for permission. From where he stood in the hall, Ander gave his only daughter a tight-lipped smile, then glanced at Herleif with that familiar twinkle in his eye as if to say he should choose his words more carefully, then simply nodded. Audhilda smiled brightly, pulling at her skirt as she moved to Herleif's side and once more held out the drinking horn for him to take.
"As long as we can speak of other things besides hunting and raiding, I would be happy to," she said, slipping her hand around Herleif's arm as they walked to the jarl's table.
"You have my word. In fact, I think you should pick our next topic of conversation just to be safe."
"Well, I have been working on a new weaving with my mother if you would like to hear of it?"
Herleif had never spent a day of his life in front of a loom and, truthfully, wouldn't know the difference between the work put into an ornate tapestry and a simple horse blanket. He smiled anyway as Audhilda's eyes grew bright with interest and drew him in. "A weaving as beautiful as its maker is surely a treasure to behold. Please, I would love to hear all about it."