In the depths of the night, a sharp rap echoed against Thor's door, breaking the serenity of their evening. "Who could that be?" Helga mused, pausing her fire-tending duties. With their children nestled in bed and the chill of winter creeping in, the couple, clad in their evening attire, braced themselves for the intrusion.
"Perhaps Erik's embarked on another nocturnal revelry," Thors lamented, rising from his perch in the corner, where he meticulously arranged logs. With a seemingly nonchalant air, he approached the door, a gesture not unnoticed by Helga. The sound seemed too deliberate, too calculated for a mere friend's visit at this hour.
"Thors!" Ari's voice pierced the threshold as soon as the door creaked open, his hazel eyes harboring a gravity that clashed starkly with his usual levity.
Meeting Ari's intense gaze with equal seriousness, Thors asked, "What brings you here at this hour?" After all, Ari's presence at his door at this late hour hinted at a disturbance; he was entrusted with guard duty tonight, his second year at the young age of sixteen, suggesting an urgent matter demanded Thors attention.
"A boat was spotted off in the distance. It's headed directly toward us."
"How big?"
"Just a small boat. As far as we can tell, no occupancy, but that doesn't mean they are not hiding."
"Go grab Erik. I'll head to the docks." Thors grabbed his cloak near the door, glancing at Helga. "Helga, stay with the kids."
"Of course," Helga affirmed as Thors left. Before the door closed, she called out, "Stay safe out there!"
As Thors trudged through the snow-laden land toward the quiet docks, his breath misting in the chilly winter air, his gaze fell upon a short figure sporting short brown locks and clad in a green thick tunic paired with oat-hued wool trousers. With arms folded, the man observed the approaching vessel with a demeanor of hardened anticipation, his breath visible in the frosty atmosphere.
"Leif, back sooner than anticipated! Tell me, when did you arrive?" Thors exclaimed, beckoning the attention of the shorter fellow, who turned with a genial grin, his mustache curling.
"Ah, Thors, ever the vigilant one. Yet, I've graced this port for a week now," Leif replied with a chuckle, relishing in Thors' widened eyes. Teasing Thors about his occasional obliviousness to small trifles was always a source of amusement for Leif.
Leif's countenance soured as his gaze shifted back to the boat. "Seems we've got an unexpected visitor approaching our shores."
Thors joined Leif, narrowing his eyes at the distant vessel. "No markings to hint at its origin."
"Indeed," Leif concurred, "and it's too cramped for more than a handful of men. Plus, the nearest port is days away. Unlikely it's a raiding party, unless there's a larger unseen vessel using this one for reconnaissance."
Examining the boat closely, Thors shook his head. "Doubtful. It's in shambles. No sane person, raider or not, would send out such a sorry craft." As it drew nearer, they noticed the haphazard repairs, with planks barely clinging to its sides.
It resembled a specter of the sea, albeit a diminutive one.
Leif's eyes widened with understanding. "That's a voyage of desperation. Who would risk their life on such a vessel?"
"Undoubtedly, someone who is desperate."
As two sets of footsteps approached, a gruff voice from behind inquired, "Have we determined the boat's origin?"
Thors shook his head as Erik, Thors long time friend and comrade of the same age, a rough around the edges lookong-type of man, and Ari, a young man after the heart of his daughter, joined them near the pier. "None. But judging by the sorry state of the vessel, we're likely facing a desperate situation."
"Shall I rouse the others?" Erik asked, his brown eyes running over the desperate state of the boat, his palm rubbing his long, brown beard.
"Not yet. Let's hold off until they reach shore before involving anyone else this late into the night."
"Are we truly content with letting them approach us?" Ari inquired, a hint of unease betraying his attempt at composure.
"We're rather limited in our options until they draw near, aren't we? Unless, of course, we fancy showering them with arrows to display our lack of civility," Leif remarked, subtly adjusting his stance from one hip to the other. "And if Thors' assessment holds true, engaging with a group in dire straits could exacerbate an already precarious situation."
"Ah, y-yes. Naturally. That does indeed make sense."
And it only took a moment for the boat to glide close enough, near enough to be within good earshot. Close enough for the group to discern there was still no one aboard besides burlap sacks and what appeared to be...
"Is that a bush?" Leif queried, squinting at the boat's interior. "Or are my aging eyes playing tricks on me?"
Sure enough, nestled amidst the boat's cargo was a bush, its green foliage of leaves swaying in the gentle breeze. All the men, Ari included, regarded the bush with puzzled expressions, then Thors raised his hand near his mouth. "Is anyone there?"
Silence greeted them. The boat edged closer.
"If you're concealing yourself, know that we'll uncover you, and we won't take kindly to deception!"
Still, no response came.
"What's your take, Thors?" Erik's voice carried a sense of urgency.
"Secure a rope around the bow once it's within range. I'll make the approach to the boat; the rest of you, maintain your distance and keep watch."
With unanimous agreement expressed through solemn nods, the group's resolve was palpable. Erik, ever resourceful, wasted no time, swiftly snatching a rope from its resting place on the pier. As the desperate boat drew closer to shore, with skill he deftly looped the rope around the bow before initiating the arduous task of hauling it towards their awaiting position at the pier's edge.
With each tug, the anticipation among the group grew, mirroring the caution that danced in their eyes. Finally, as the boat gently kissed the pier's edge, Erik wasted no time in securing the rope around a sturdy piling, ensuring the vessel's stability amidst the tumultuous waves of uncertainty that surrounded them. As he stepped back, a tangible sense of relief washed over the group, mingling with the lingering tension that still hung in the air like an unspoken question awaiting an answer.
Thors, the ever-watchful ex-warrior, advanced towards the boat with the grace of a stalking cat, each step measured and deliberate, betraying no hint of hesitation. As he approached, the moonlight danced upon his rugged features, casting an aura of determination around him. He hovered beside the vessel, his keen eyes scouring every nook and cranny of its interior with the precision of a seasoned warrior. The cramped confines of the boat offered no sanctuary for a hidden cabin, and the haphazardly scattered burlap sacks appeared more suited to concealing meager provisions than a stowaway of any significance.
Persisting in his inspection, an odd sound pierced the air.
Emerging from the bush, it seemed.
"Is that… snoring?" Thors inquired with a volume overheard by his group of men, and Ari.
"Snoring?" Leif echoed, incredulous. "Then there's someone aboard?"
Suddenly, a sharp pop reverberated through the air, followed by the ominous sound of rushing water as the boat began to rapidly fill.
"It's sinking!" Ari exclaimed, momentarily forgetting Thors' earlier directive as he dashed towards the boat, positioning himself alongside Thors.
With lightning reflexes, Thors pivoted towards Ari, his hand firmly pressing against Ari's shoulder, halting his impulsive advance. "Ari, stay back! We still haven't unraveled the mystery we're facing."
As the tension thickened, a sputtering noise erupted from the submerged vessel, capturing the attention of all men, including Ari, whose gaze snapped back to the boat. But it was Ari who first broke the stunned silence, his voice ringing out amidst the chaos.
"Look! Look!" he exclaimed, pointing towards the now submerged bush. "The shrub is drowning!"
Surely enough, as the boat descended to the sandy depths, two ghostly hands emerged from the bush, their ethereal pallor contrasting starkly against the murky waters now engulfing the vessel. The once-hidden bush was now fully submerged with the two sets of arms and hands reaching skyward, barely breaking the surface of the frigid water.
Without a moment's hesitation, Thors extended his arm over the deck, seizing hold of one of the desperate hands as it clawed towards the heavens. With a strength born of both duty and compassion, he effortlessly hoisted the bush, arms and all, from the unforgiving sea onto the pier where they stood, solid ground offering sanctuary from the watery, albeit shallow, abyss.
The bush, now with legs protruding from its leafy camouflage, sputtered and choked on all fours on the deck. Thors took a closer look at the peculiar figure's outfit – a uniformed camouflage, cleverly blending into any greenery if given the chance. From head to waist, green brush leaves were intricately woven or maybe tied into every inch of his clothing, creating an illusion of natural foliage. Thors marveled at the ingenuity of the disguise, though his concern was more for the persistent sputtering emanating from the fellow.
Kneeling near the struggling figure, Thors rested his hand on his knee. "Are you alright? Do you need assistance?" he asked, genuine concern lacing through his words.
In a dramatic flourish, the fellow rose to his knees, his attire cascading upward in synchrony, up over his head and draping over the pier with an elegant splat. Thors, caught off guard, surveyed the fallen ensemble before turning his gaze to the culprit, only to find himself staring in astonishment.
But this was no ordinary fellow. Adorned with a mane of damp, billowing bright red locks, their green gaze fixated on the sky, and rose-tinted lips struggled for breath like a beleaguered trout. Yet, it wasn't the timbre of masculinity that escaped those lips, but rather a distinctly feminine cadence, defying expectations with each syllable uttered.
"Damn it all! I've practically waterboarded myself!" she lamented, her hand instinctively reaching to smack her drenched cheek.
As her gaze fell upon her discarded attire, a wave of distress overtook her. Before he could inquire further about her well-being, she erupted, "Oh, fuck! My spices! No! No! No! No! No!" Much of her outburst was not in the local tongue. Thors observed her frantic scramble towards the scattered remnants of her makeshift cloak. With fervor, she delved beneath its many layers, eyes ablaze and white teeth bared in agitation. Notably, Thors noticed pockets discreetly sewn into the fabric that was layered underneath the leaves top layer, all throughout the layers of wool fabric, and slowly she revealed contents of small, white square parcels. Amidst her frantic search, she handled them with care, placing them gently next to the poncho-like garment, juxtaposing her rough treatment of the bush poncho. This peculiar scene would be a spectacle not easily forgotten by Thors.
"Are you...alright?" Thors finally managed to ask, observing the girl's frantic gaze suddenly shooting up towards him, her face contorted with worry.
"Of course not!" she retorted in a strange accented Danish, her voice carrying a distinct undercurrent of distress. "My precious spices might be ruined!" With a swift motion, she seized one of the packages, gingerly unfurling the white parcel between them. Thors found himself momentarily captivated by the substance in her grasp. As she unfurled it, he noted a silky clear film enveloping the package's surface. It clung to itself as she peeled it away, yet curiously, it defied adhesion to her fingers. How intriguing. Thors felt an overwhelming temptation to explore its texture but restrained himself, firmly clasping his hands in place. With an unwavering gaze, he continued to observe her unveiling the parcel, witnessing as it revealed a fabric-like material within. And when she unfurled the cloth, nestled within were...brown leaves?
She let out a relieved sigh. "If the oregano survived, then maybe the rest are okay, too." Very gently, she set the brown leaves on the deck, and with care, she opened the other packages.
However, Thors' curiosity finally got the better of him, and he snatched the parcel containing the leaves. Running his finger over the thin outer material, he was surprised by its texture. "Is this wax?" he blurted out involuntarily.
"Uh, oh, yes. Beeswax. Keeps it all nice and waterproof and all that," the strange girl said from her perch, not looking up at Thors as he examined her item. "Plastic bags…nevermind."
Thors blinked in question. "Plastic bags?" The phrase felt foreign on his tongue.
"It's nothing. Forget about it," she dismissed with another sigh, settling back on her heels, her unusual boots catching his attention. "Ah, they made it through! What a relief. A year's worth of travel did not go to waste!"
With a victorious fist pump, she rose to her feet, her gaze moving over to her now-sunken boat, unleashing another anguished cry. "Damn it! My boat! What the hell happened?"
Leif, who was watching everything unfold near the pier's edge, finally stepped forward, his hands clasped as he offered a sympathetic smile in her direction. "Well, your boat met its demise the moment it touched our shores, my dear. Sadly, it wasn't in the best of shape."
However, it seemed her distress drowned out his explanation, as Thors shot up from his spot and swiftly intervened, grabbing her arm just as she prepared to dive back into the neck-high water. "And where do you think you're off to?" he interjected, a mix of concern and incredulity in his voice.
"Rice and potatoes!" she exclaimed haphazardly, her gaze fixed ahead as she wrestled to break free from Thors' grasp, one foot lifted like she was about to step off the pier. Her other free arm flapped hapharzadly in the air, like a deranged bird. "I've invested good coin in those! They must be salvaged before they're ruined!"
"You're in no condition to plunge back into the water. It's frigid; you'll freeze to the bone!"
Her head snapped around, her large green eyes ablaze with determination. "A minute spent in shallow water to retrieve vital provisions won't kill me, id-you! Certainly not enough time to meet the fate you so charmingly describe." She pulled at his gripping hand once more. "Now let me go! Those goods are essential!"
Thors sighed, his resolve as unyielding as the ancient Norse god he was named after. He glanced at Erik with a silent plea, "Could you lend a hand?"
Erik's eyebrows shot up in disbelief, but he nodded firmly. "Yes. Of course."
With purposeful strides, Erik moved to Thors side, seizing the girl's other arm. "Hey!" she protested, but her voice trailed off as she watched Thors take the plunge into the frigid waters below. "Wait! You don't need to do that. This is my problem, not yours!" Yet, little did she know, Thors had a knack for diving headfirst into other people's chaos – it was practically his specialty.
He forged through the murky depths to retrieve the first burlap sack from the sunken ship, his head briefly dipping into the icy chill before emerging, victorious, to heave the sack onto the pier.
"Allow me to assist," Erik proposed, relinquishing the girl's arm as he followed suit, joining Thors in salvaging the girl's supplies.
With the final sack secured, Thor and Erik hoisted themselves from the water, their drenched forms a testament to their daring rescue. Erik, teeth chattering, rejoined the safety of the pier. "Well, my dear," he said through chattering teeth, "how on earth are you not frozen solid by now?"
The girl, her curiosity piqued by the unfolding scene before her, blinked thoughtfully at his query. With a subtle shift of attention, she glanced down, registering the inadequacy of her attire—a mere green short-sleeved wool tunic offering little protection against the biting chill.
A sudden shiver wracked her body, the realization of the cold finally sinking in. "Ugh. It's freezing. What the hell," she grumbled. Turning to Thors, who now bore four of her burlap sacks upon his sturdy shoulders, she questioned with slight alarm: "Wait, what are you doing?"
"Merely assisting in relocating these to my abode. Shall we risk them freezing out here?"
"I mean, forgive my bluntness," she started reluctantly, "but this isn't your problem. So, why the sudden urge to help out a stranger?"
He fixed her with an unwavering gaze. "Because you've stumbled onto my shores in a rather dire state. I can't simply turn a blind eye when extending a helping hand would cost me but a moment of time."
"But you don't know me. At all... for all you know, I could be a pirate. A swashbuckling, treasure-hunting, rum-swilling buccaneer with a penchant for mischief and a parrot on my shoulder." Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and under her breath she added, "Wait, does rum exist now? I don't think so…"
Once more, his eyes sought hers, probing as if seeking hidden truths. "It's a matter of principle and a hint of gallantry. So, fret not. Now," he gestured forward, his focus shifting to the other men and Ari, "would you be so kind as to assist with carrying these sacks to my home?"
"Sure thing!" Leif chimed, striding forward to seize a sack and trail after Thors, whose figure was now in retreat toward his home, all the while eyeing the girl as he passed her.
As Ari reached for one, he muttered under his breath, "What does 'rum-swilling buccaneer' mean?"
"Come on, let's pick up the pace! My balls are freezing to my legs!" Erik exclaimed, shouldering two of the girls' food sacks as he followed suit.
Thors pivoted, observing as Leif and Erik trailed behind, Ari in close pursuit. Yet, the girl lingered on the pier, her gaze fixed on them with a puzzled air.
"Is something amiss, girl?"
She met his gaze squarely, and Thors detected a sudden flicker in her eyes—a hint of calculation, as if she were weighing her options. There was no hint of malice in her stare, but it diverged from her previous more upbeat demeanor.
"You can call me Fiadh!" she shouted, then bent to retrieve her poncho and bundled items. Laden with her parcels, she hastened to join the group of men and Ari, an intriguing sparkle dancing in her eyes.
"Are you truly convinced, Thors?" Leif inquired, halting to scrutinize the girl once more, her form plowing through the deepening blanket of snow, shivers coursing through her.
"Absolutely," Thors affirmed, a subtle softness overtaking his gaze. "There's a smell about her that beckons curiosity."
"Curiosity, you say," mused Leif, his hand grazing his cleanly shaven chin, eyes drifting into a pensive gaze. "Well, your intuition has yet to lead us astray. Guess we'll see what we have in store with this find."
Thors offered a knowing smile to his companion. "It'll be interesting, I'm certain of it."