A warship loomed on the horizon, swiftly igniting a flurry of whispers throughout the settlement, drawing a crowd to the shore in little time.
As the warship drew closer, Leif joined me by the shore where I stood talking to a young woman who wanted to get the recipe of the dinner I made for her and her family last night.
Having spent the past month in Iceland, I opted not to intrude further on Thors and his family after they invited me into their home the first two days, and instead found hospitality with Leif and his crew. Despite Leif's occasional eccentricities and childlike demeanor, he proved to be a kind and welcoming evening host, despite the home we stayed at wasn't his home, but one that was very welcoming to Leif and his crew when he visited.
Apparently, Leif owned a farm on Greenland. A home he visited once in the last month, but he declined my request to accompany him, citing outdated notions that women didn't belong on ships, the sexist bastard.
But when evenings came, they were filled with captivating storytelling sessions that often extended into the early hours of the morning, each vying to outshine the other with our storytelling prowess like little girls at a sleepover. That alone made me like him, regardless of his period-typical sexism
Despite his persistent reminders of my imminent return home, Leif and the other villagers remained adamant that I, a mere youth, should hightail it back to my family nest, as Leif likes to put it, especially since I was just a mere girl. I played the part of the attentive listener, nodding along to their well-meaning advice, yet secretly reveling in the amusement of my true age, which rivaled that of most in the village.
After all, in that age, most didn't live past the age of fifty. And everyone aged at warp speed, making a forty-year-old resemble a seasoned sage of sixty. Time wasn't just a passage; it was a sprint towards the inevitable gray-haired embrace of old age.
I needed to start moisturizing…
With that said, Leif and I had grown closer over this last month. But I couldn't shake the suspicion that he regarded me as a surrogate daughter, a notion that tickled me more than troubled me. It was endearing at the very least.
And I…enjoyed his company greatly. He was refreshing, if a bit sexist about a woman's role in society.
"What's your take on this, Leif?" I asked, trusting Leif's experience.
"Nothing good. That's for certain," he responded solemnly, his brown eyes fixed on the approaching warship with unwavering focus.
As the impending arrival of the warship drew nearer at breakneck speed, a sudden pang of unease washed over me like a tsunami crashing against the shores of my consciousness. Something was amiss, a discordant note in the symphony of anticipation.
I found myself inexplicably compelled to conceal my presence, as peculiar as that compulsion may have sounded. It was akin to the mysterious force that drew me to Iceland, now tugging at me to shroud myself. Well, not entirely myself, but rather, my appearance.
This peculiar urge had only struck me once before, prompting the creation of the infamous shrub poncho that everyone was very interested in knowing how I had created it after the excitement of my arrival had died down.
"I should…I'll be right back," I muttered, turning away toward the house nearest the shore that had all my things. Leif didn't say anything as I left, too focused on the oncoming warship.
A warship?! Were they Vikings? But…this was a free Norse settlement, and it was too soon for the Danish crown to claim Iceland's dependency on them. So, what was their purpose?
They wouldn't pillage a free Norse settlement, would they? Honestly, I wouldn't put it past them. And I knew it was better to conceal myself as a young boy than to reveal that I was a girl, ripe for prime slavery. And lo and behold, my peculiar urge seemed to be clamoring for a congratulatory high-five after I finally reached that conclusion.
But I did have a dilemma. The leafy poncho only worked if they didn't know it even existed. If I walked out there with it on, they'd be aware of it and would notice a random bush hiding when chaos erupted, especially if these were trained soldiers and not idiotic vagabond pirates that care more about killing and raping than tactile thinking.
After all, why should a round, plump shrub nestled in the heart of a settlement remain untouched by the winter's icy grip? It would likely provoke curious mental inquiries, probably the most their brains had ever had to inquire about in the last month, swiftly followed by a sharp jab from a spear.
The last thing I desired was to become the unwitting target of a spear—or any weapon, for that matter.
And something told me these weren't mere soldiers in it for just the thrill.
As I reached the corner of my humble dirt abode where my belongings lay in wait, instead of reaching for my trusty shrub poncho adorned with all the spices cleverly stashed in its myriad pockets, I opted for a nondescript brown cloak and a makeshift face covering I'd bartered from the villagers. The cloak draped generously over me, its hem trailing four inches on the ground—an oversized disguise, yet sufficient for my purpose.
The woes of being under five feet…
Before rising to depart, I indulged in a quick nostril-nuzzle into the depths of my bush poncho, inhaling deeply. Ah, the aroma of my hard-earned spices never failed to soothe my soul, like a fragrant hug from an old friend.
With my face covered, I emerged from the shelter, only to be greeted by the unwelcome sight of the formidable warship looming at our docks. A band of thirty or so warriors, clad in white cloaks and adorned with matching menacing headgear and axes, cast their piercing gazes upon the crowd with an aura of deadly intent. Hastening toward Leif, who remained steadfast near the shore, I asked anxiously, "Have they made any demands yet?" Already, I could feel the instinctual urge to flee from the doom-and-gloom bunch of Viking looking warriors.
Their stares were as cold as a polar bear's gaze on a midsummer beach. Some of them even seemed to find joy in the villagers' discomfort, like kids discovering a new toy.
In that moment, I had the sudden urge to give them a one-finger salute, a gesture so classic even these old ass one-thousand A.D Viking warriors would understand the meaning behind it. But hey, I wasn't about to gamble with my life or Leif's over a fleeting moment of rebellion.
They would one-hundred percent kill me over it, and Leif just because he looked acquainted with me.
"They asked for Thors The Troll," Leif said gravely, still keeping his eyes trained on the seasoned looking soldiers.
"Thors, huh," I mused, a memory bubbling up from last week's conversation. "So, he's a former Viking warrior, isn't he?" I pondered aloud, recalling how his demeanor had prompted me to inquire my suspicions to him. Unlike the others in our settlement, he carried himself with a vigilant air, as if anticipating enemies lurking around every corner. It wasn't merely paranoia; it was an integral part of his being.
Upon sharing my observation with him, he remained silent, a distant gaze lingering in his eyes before he politely excused himself. Sensing the weight of unspoken stories, I opted not to press the matter further.
I hadn't meant to dredge up bad memories.
Leif's gaze finally met mine, his eyes widening ever so slightly. "What makes you say that?"
I maintained my stare, raising a finger for emphasis. "Firstly, his stride betrays a seasoned warrior." Then I raised another finger. "Secondly, there's a haunted quality to his eyes, as if they've borne witness to countless horrors. And thirdly…" Another finger, this one twitching. "Well, it's hard to put into words, but there's an undeniable aura of strength about him."
"I'm afraid I can't relate," Leif replied, crossing his arms and tilting his head skeptically. "And I'm not entirely convinced you're seeing what you think you're seeing, either."
I glared at him. "It's because I'm a wo-"
"Have you been to battle, Fiadh?" He interjected, his gaze stern.
"No, but-"
"Then how can you claim to know Thors?" He interrupted again, his stare unwavering.
"What does battling have to do with anything?" I protested.
"Because," he countered, turning his attention back to the Vikings, "only one of their own can truly grasp their essence. Only one of their kind can see that beneath the surface."
"That doesn't make any sense. Well, I mean it does, but why can't someone like me not see it?" I retorted, unconvinced. "And what if I'm right?" I pointed toward the Vikings, my other hand now on my hip. "Why else would they be here? They even asked for Thors, and why haven't they disembarked their boat yet?"
Leif remained silent, but the crowd surrounding us began to part, revealing Thors striding through with Throfinn at his side, his usual stern demeanor tinged with an unmistakable sense of concern.
As Thors addressed them, he dubbed them the Jomsvikings and exchanged introductions. To my surprise, one of the Jomsvikings removed his headgear, prompting the rest to bow in deference to Thors!
After the formalities were concluded, Thors granted them permission to disembark, and their leader, Floki, a square man with blonde hair and amber eyes, trailed behind Thors toward his home.
"I should've placed a wager with you, Leif, because it appears I was spot-on," I remarked, observing Floki's entry into Thors' abode. I turned toward Leif with a shit eating grin, but despite him not being able to see it past my face mask, he still rolled his eyes at me.
"I never disputed your observation, Fiadh. I simply refrained from jumping to conclusions and making a show of it," Leif clarified, his gaze trailing after one of the Jomsvikings as they prowled through the settlement, their predatory eyes assessing every passerby. "Besides, that's the least of our concerns."
And I did agree with him about that. When one passed over the two of us, the Jomsviking loomed over us, casting a disdainful glance before continuing on his way.
"The way they're walking around, it's like they're sizing us up. Taking stock of who's here and who's a threat," I observed, noting Leif's palpable tension mirroring my own unease.
Then a thought struck me. "Oh, that might work…" I, again, said out loud and began walking away from Leif back to the home that had all my things.
"What might work?" Leif called out at my retreating form, but I ignored him and once I made it inside while dodging angry looking Jomsvikings, I grabbed an item, or rather items, from my belongings inside the house.
Once outside again, I approached one of the patrolling Jomsvikings. Leif, who was watching me like a hawk when I exited the house, only facepalmed, likely already composing my eulogy in his head.
As I faced the very real possibility of meeting my demise, I couldn't ignore the tantalizing prospect before me. It was a risk worth taking, considering that if Leif hadn't allowed me to venture out from our settlement to find new culinary cohorts, I wouldn't be in this tight spot. Yet, the fleeting satisfaction of seeing a stranger enjoy the food I had prepared managed to momentarily quell my doubts.
Even if that stranger was a murdering Viking who'd rape and then sell me to slavery without a second thought.
"Ahoy there, mighty Jomsviking warrior!" I chirped, as I abruptly walked up to one of the patrolling Jomsvikings, undeterred by the frosty reception. His abrupt halt and glacial glare when he spun around suddenly might have sent lesser souls fleeing for safer pastures, but I, ever the intrepid soul, saw it as an invitation. A challenge, if you will, to penetrate the icy veneer and coax forth a glimmer of mirth from beneath that fearsome façade.
Some might deem this a flirtation with demise…
In the face of his stoic silence and a glare sharp enough to cut steel, I pressed on undeterred. "Care for a taste of my lamb jerky?" I proffered, unveiling the savory delight from its cloth cocoon I had nestled in my hands and offering it up to this fearsome figure. "I assure you, it's guaranteed to tickle your taste buds!"
As he leaned in, his icy gaze locking onto mine with unwavering intensity, the grip on his axes tightening ever so slightly, I braced myself for whatever retort he had in store. Or if he was just going to swing the axes and get it over with because I dared even to speak with him. But then, an unexpected twist: his nose twitched, his attention momentarily diverted to the tantalizing offering before him. After a prolonged scrutiny of my jerky, he issued a chilling warning, "If it's poisoned girl, you'll regret it."
I couldn't help but interject, "I'm not a girl."
His response was as frigid as a winter's night, "Pity." With a sardonic smirk, he finally succumbed to curiosity, snatching a piece of jerky and sinking his teeth into it with a calculated nonchalance.
In that fleeting moment, a miracle unfolded before my eyes. His stoic countenance softened ever so imperceptibly, a flicker of life dancing within his gaze. With each deliberate chew, it was as if the world paused to witness the alchemy of flavors dancing upon his palate.
It was a sight to behold.
Yet, as quickly as it had come, the magic dissipated. His eyes, once briefly ignited with a spark of humanity, reverted to their cold, lifeless state. A reminder that even amidst the most extraordinary moments, the grip of reality never loosens its hold on a warrior that had fallen so deeply into the abyss.
Nevertheless, relishing the spectacle of his reaction brought me a peculiar delight.
"Five shiny silver coins and this bounty is yours," I proposed, showcasing the tempting array of jerky nestled in my arms.
Once more, his icy gaze met mine, though a flicker of interest betrayed his steely facade. "We'll discuss this matter later, lad," he replied cryptically before striding away.
Curiouser and curiouser. Why the delay?
After Leif scolded me into oblivion, stating I must have had a God's touch of luck on my side, it wasn't long after that their leader left Thors home, calling for his men to retreat. That was when the Jomsviking warrior from earlier reappeared where I now stood near the pier, away from Leif and his disapproving stare, a steely glint in his eye. "Two coins," he demanded brusquely.
"Three and it's a deal?" I countered, unfurling the jerky that was wrapped in its cloth again and held it between us, its savory aroma tantalizing the air between us.
With a glare that could chill even the fiercest fire, the Jomsviking scrutinized me, probing for any sign of weakness. But I met his gaze with unwavering resolve, a silent not-challenge-but-kinda-in-a-way-that-wouldn't-piss-him-off shining in my eyes. At last, he relented, retrieving a pouch from his cloak and produced three silver coins and exchanging it for the prized jerky.
As the urge to unleash a witty quip about the virtues of sharing bubbled up within me, I swiftly suppressed it, opting instead for a diplomatic nod. "A pleasure doing business with a Jomsviking warrior," I remarked, extending a cordial farewell.
His response? A mere harrumph before he strode off, leaving me to laugh inwardly at his reply. It was then I noticed the bemused expressions of Ari, Thorfinn, and Leaf, who watched from afar with jaws agape. With a nonchalant shrug, I redirected my attention elsewhere, just as Floki's voice pierced the air with a voice that demanded our attention.
"Here, ye villagers! I am Floki of the Jomsvikings," he bellowed from the docks, looking ahead but not directly at us, strangely. "At the orders of my master, I came to this land to ask the Hero Thors Snorresson to join us. He has agreed and has answered our great leader's request by promising to provide one warship to our cause. Let those who have what it takes follow him and come with us to Jomsborg before we go to war!"
As the Jomsvikings ship set sail, and Thors stepped onto the shore to join us, Floki directed his attention squarely at him. "Farewell, Thors the Troll. We'll soon meet on the battlefield."
As they embarked on their journey, a nagging suspicion crept over me like a shadow – Floki's demeanor felt as slippery as a serpent's. Yet, before I could delve deeper into this unsettling thought, Ari's exuberant cry shattered the silence. "To war!" he bellowed, igniting a chorus of jubilant cheers from the assembled crowd on the shore. Their eagerness bewildered me. Did they not comprehend the grim reality of war? Did they not grasp its inevitable toll – death, devastation, and despair?
And then I remembered the harsh reality of the era and it came crashing down on me like a Viking raiding party. In this tumultuous chapter of history, the concept of peace and tranquility seemed as foreign as a summer breeze in the frozen north. No, they were not burdened with the weight of foresight, for they were too consumed by the allure of Valhalla. Preferring a painful demise on the battlefield over a quiet existence, they clung to the beliefs instilled in them from birth. After all, such was the Viking creed – to meet their fate with valor and embrace the glory of the afterlife.
Even if it meant checking out of life's game before they even reached a high enough level to live comfortably.
And to never take responsibility for the tragedies they sow.
"Take me with you!" I yelled at Leif for the hundredth time the next day as everyone helped get the storage warship to sea, the same looking one the Jomsvikings road in on.
With logs bolstering the ship's underbelly, they employed ropes to inch it forward, exerting relentless effort as they pulled and tugged with nothing but sheer manpower and determination. While it was a spectacle to behold, my attention was divided between marveling at their endeavor and persuading Leif to abandon his archaic chauvinism.
Leif, who was watching their progress on a barrel near the storage ship shed, gritted his teeth at me before firing back, "And for the umpteenth time, the answer is still no! If we were headed in the direction of Ireland, I'd be more than happy to ferry you back to your family, but we're headed in the opposite direction. You'd only take up space."
I stood before him, arms folded, my nostrils ignited with indignation. "And you're ferrying a whole bunch of young boys to their deaths! You're such a hypocrite, you know that Leif!"
Leif returned my gaze with a searing glare, his own nostrils ablaze. "That's not our mission, Fiadh. Let it rest, please. I won't entertain this debate any longer. Once we return, we'll have a conversation about returning to Ireland and nothing else. Clear?"
"I don't understand, Leif! Why do you think you have any say on where I go? This is my life, not a life you have any say on! My! Life! You hear!?"
He exhaled heavily, pivoting away to massage the bridge of his nose. "I'm not dictating your life. But if anything were to happen to you, I couldn't live with myself." His gaze met mine once more, softness shimmering within. "In just a month, you've woven yourself into the fabric of not just my heart, but the hearts of many in this village. Please, consider all of our feelings regarding your safety." He sighed again, like he had a lot of weight on his shoulders. "And I never implied that your gender precluded your ability to sail," he clarified, referencing our numerous prior discussions. Clearly, he had noticed my unease during those exchanges. "You've demonstrated remarkable competence, particularly for someone of your age. Quite astute, I must say."
I huffed, yet tempered my tone. "I grasp your concerns, but as I've reiterated, the course of my life rests solely with me, no one else." At least, not anymore. "Please, Leif. Consider taking me along? I yearn to venture forth, to encounter new souls. I just..." I averted my gaze, folding my arms as I allowed my vulnerability to permeate my words. "I must do this. I can't articulate it to you. But, I implore you, please. I can't take no as an answer. Whatever is going on inside me, it won't allow it."
Leif regarded me with a gaze of careful consideration, and eventually, he released a sigh that whispered acquiescence. "Very well. We shall accommodate your request, pending Thors' approval." As a smile blossomed on my lips, he emphasized once more, "But it hinges entirely on Thors' agreement!"
I leaped skyward, arms outstretched towards the sky, then enveloped Leif in a hug, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Leif!"
"Don't express gratitude prematurely. Thors' consent is still required," Leif remarked, a faint blush tinting his cheeks as a smirk betrayed his feigned annoyance when I released him.
With a wave to Leif, I strolled off to locate Thors, a grin adorning my face. Wherever their journey led, I was eager to meet new faces that would, hopefully, love my cooking.
As I located Thors in the forge of their village, tending to a child's broken arm and I explained my side of the story, his inquiries came quicker than Leif's. "And is this truly your wish?"
"It is." I said, staring into his eyes with as much determination I could muster.
"Then I can't say no."
I smiled at his response. I knew he wouldn't say no. "Thank you, Thors."
"However, there's a stipulation."
My hands flew up in exasperation. "Oh, come on!"
He only smiled at my antics as he continued to wrap the kids arm who was sniffling from a wound that Thorfinn apparently afflicted, the rascal. The kid's father, who stood nearby, was only chuckling at the situation, weirdly enough. "Send letters of your travels. I'm sure everyone here would be interested in your whereabouts and how you're doing. And it would put Leif at ease to hear that you're healthy and strong on your journey."
I blinked in surprise. "Oh, is that all?" Blinking again, I nodded. "Absolutely, consider it done. No sweat."
He stood up from his seat inside the forge, the sniffling kids arm now bandaged up with a splint. "Then it's settled," he said, turning toward me with kind eyes. "You'll join us on our voyage tomorrow with no complaints. But mind you, it won't be a stroll in the open sea. You'll need to pitch in with the rowing as we set sail."
For someone who's going to war, he was being very accommodating. It was almost like he had a plan…
Grinning ear to ear, I gave him a jaunty salute—a gesture he puzzled over with a raised eyebrow and amused smile, unfamiliar with its significance. "Aye, aye, sir! Anticipating the adventure ahead."
He smiled again, but his face quickly sobered as he looked toward his home. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go speak to my son." And with that, he walked out, heading toward his home with purposeful strides. Thorfinn was in for an earful, that was for sure. But then again, Thors didn't seem like the yelling and scolding type.
Eh, whatever. How he parented his child had nothing to do with me. Besides, I was finally going to leave this island!
With a swagger to rival a pirate captain, I sauntered away from the forge, a merry tune from the Wellerman sea shanty slipping from my lips like a mischievous whisper on the wind.
Brimming with anticipation, I practically bounced along the path to my temporary abode, stealing glances at the distant sea, pondering the cast of characters awaiting me on this new escapade. Would they match the colorful personalities I encountered in Iceland? The prospect of new faces and fresh tales to weave had my heart dancing with excitement. Deep down in my bones, I knew this next chapter promised to be an exhilarating ride.
And no matter what, I was going to embark on that next chapter in this life without delay.
As the day dwindled into the embrace of night, Leif dropped the bombshell: Thors had a pit stop planned in Norway before heading solo to Jomsboro, leaving the kids behind. The idea of him charging into battle rambo-style didn't sit well with me, but hey, what could I do? Just a gal in their world, and men didn't listen to women.
And after Leif wrapped up his trades, he'd shuttle the kids back to Iceland on his ship, but I wouldn't be joining them. In Norway, I'd find my own path, much to Leif's dismay, but he couldn't complain anymore about it. He'd come to the realization that once my kind was set, nothing could change it.
Gotta hand it to Leif and Thors, they were top-notch folks. Wish there were more like them.
As I hustled about, assisting with the ship's preparations, a twinge of guilt gnawed at my insides. Poor Thors and his family didn't sign up for this drama. Despite his hero status, you could practically see the weight of the world etched on his brow. And there I was, pretending to be all busy with inventory checks on Thors ship, but really just sneaking peeks at Thors and Leif on the beach, wondering if there was anything I could do to change Thors mind. If I could even change it.
Back in the day, I wasn't exactly binge-reading Viking manuals. I'm talking legit Vikings, not the Marvel remix most everyone loved in my previous life. But despite that, even I knew they weren't too keen on deserters.
Would Thors face a Viking-style execution upon hitting Jomsboro? Did they even have a courtroom drama setup?
When we set sail, I realized I had a lot to ponder. What exactly? Not entirely sure. But Thors and his family deserved more than a one-way ticket to trouble.
Here I was, suddenly all invested in folks I'd barely met a month ago. Not exactly my usual MO, but hey, even someone as selfish as me crumble sometimes.
As I went about the tedious task of organizing the ropes on Thor's ship, a sudden sneeze jolted me from my focus, prompting a swift glance to my right from where I knelt near the mast. Surprisingly, all that met my gaze were a series of ordinary barrels. Puzzled, I pondered whether someone had taken refuge below deck. However, the sneeze had sounded unmistakably nearby, almost right next to me.
Curiosity piqued, I abandoned my duties and approached the stationary barrels. One lid, conspicuously loose, beckoned my attention instantly. With the cautious anticipation akin to a scene from a suspenseful movie, I reached out and slowly lifted the lid, expecting to find a rat flying at my face to take an eyeball as its souvenir. But within the dim confines, a pair of wide, startled brown eyes met mine, their owner clearly taken aback by my unexpected intrusion.
"Thorfinn?"
He shushed me with a flourish fit for the stage, his hand poised dramatically at his lips, and his eyes wide enough to rival dinner plates. With a deft motion, he snatched the lid of the barrel, disappearing into its depths like a mischievous sprite. I couldn't help but let out a snicker at the unexpected spectacle.
Nonchalantly draping myself against the barrel, elbow resting casually on its rim, I observed the bustling activity of others boarding the ship with our trips provisions. Concealing my amusement behind a facade of mock seriousness, I quipped into my cloaks collar, "Oh, Thorfinn, you're quite the master of disguise."
In a voice tinged with urgency, he pleaded, "Please don't tell anyone…"
"You know I have to, Thorfinn," I insisted, trying to convey a sense of responsibility.
"Please, Fiadh. I promise I won't be a pest!" Thorfinn pleaded earnestly.
"They're going to war, Thorfinn. Do you know what that means?" I pressed, hoping to make him understand the gravity of the situation.
"Of course I do! ...Please, Fiadh. Please let me stay! Please don't tell them I'm here!"
I sighed, rubbing my tired eyes before tilting my head back to consider the situation. While part of me sympathized with Thorfinn's plea, I knew it wasn't my place to decide. "I don't think this is a good idea, Thorfinn. You're just a kid," I reasoned, trying to appeal to his sense of logic.
"So are you!" he retorted defiantly, a hint of frustration in his voice.
Technically, he wasn't wrong. Physically, my age was closer to his, but experience-wise of a previous life, there was a vast difference.
"Fair point," I conceded that much to him. "But there's a difference between being a kid and being responsible for one as young as you."
"I won't be a burden, Fiadh. I can help out, I promise. Just let me prove it to you once we take off…and can't turn back!"
I hesitated, torn between my duty to report his presence and my sympathy for his earnest plea to seek whatever adventure he so desired. Again, I wasn't his babysitter, and him running off and hiding wasn't my responsibility. Plus, Thors was going to be here at the beginning of this journey. Maybe I could just act like I hadn't discovered him. "You know I can't make any promises, Thorfinn. But I'll think about it," I relented, offering him a glimmer of hope.
"Thank you, Fiadh! You won't regret it, I promise!" With that, he quieted in his barrel and I walked away from it before I drew attention to it.
As the weight of responsibility pressed down on me, I couldn't help but ponder the irony of my situation. Would turning Thorfinn in make me any better than those who judge me solely by my gender rather than my ambitions? That was a question I couldn't answer.
In the end, I chose to defy convention and trust my instincts. Who was I to deny Thorfinn the chance to prove himself? After all, I couldn't think of a reason why he couldn't join us.
What harm could come from letting him tag along?
"Get your oars at the ready!" Came the call as we prepared ourselves to set sail for the sea.
In unison, we chorused, "Sir!", and braced ourselves for the task ahead. Positioned in the middle of the row, I awaited the signal to begin rowing, but my gaze couldn't help but wander towards Thors, towering over the opposite side of the ship, his massive oar in hand.
Apparently, he was strong enough to row with all our strengths, capable of propelling the ship single-handedly from his side as no one else sat with him. I suppose there was a good reason they dubbed him Thors The Troll.
Before we set sail, Thors suddenly spoke up, "Helga!" When she responded, he continued, "When Thorfinn does turn up, will you tell him that I…um…" He stopped, looking uncertain.
I fought the urge to fidget in my seat, determined not to glance back at the barrel concealing Thorfinn. I wished I opted to wear my leafy poncho and matching hat instead of the brown cloak and mask I opted for instead. With the former, I could have enjoyed the scent of my spices, calming my nerves. But there they lay, nestled within a barrel among the myriad other treasures I'd acquired through my month-long bartering spree.
Ever the understanding spouse, Helga met her husband's hesitance with a gentle smile. "Yes. Of course I will."
Thors appeared taken aback by her understanding, a mix of surprise and relief washing over his features. "Thank you," he murmured, gratitude evident in his tone.
Once more, I resisted the urge to squirm uncomfortably. Damn you, Thorfinn, for putting me in this predicament! Thors' vulnerability nearly broke my resolve!
As Leif pounded the drum with a thunderous beat, his booming command filled the air, "Row together!"
And row we did, with Thors leading the charge, propelling us forward with his mighty swing of his oar, leaving us scrambling to keep pace. While the others gaped in awe at his impressive strength, I couldn't help but laugh out loud, swept up in the rush of excitement as we embarked on our long-awaited adventure.
I could sense it in my bones - this journey was bound to be an electrifying adventure.
Author's note: Since the next chapter is going to follow episode 4 of the anime, I really want to take my time with it. Hopefully in this chapter I conveyed that I DON'T like using dialogue from the show/manga unless I needed to, or I thought it added context to my writing I wouldn't be able to convey with just a summary.
With that said, the next chapter will be a challenge, but I do have a plan for it to add new material in Fiadh's perspective.
Let me know what you think so far! Love to hear your feedback :)
Also wanted to add that I recommend reading this on AO3 as I like to add pictures of Askeladd here and there.