"Saga" - Chapter 10, part 2
Saga, Chapter 10, part 2.
For information on content, rating, disclaimer and A/Ns, see part 1
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During the next week the farm made preparations for a possible attack from early till late, and there was little rest and much worry for everyone from the oldest thrall woman to Ketil Elmarson himself.
Riders went back and forth among the farms in the valley, but there was no news of further attacks. The tension nevertheless remained. There was little reason to think that king Eystein would be content with having carried off loot, animals and women from only a few farms. In order for him to send a message loud and clear, more attacks would surely be coming.
Even so, after one week Einnis Elmarson took leave of his brother and sister and rode north to his own farm. He was accompanied by three thralls driving sleighs filled with food, clothes and such gear and weapons as two men and a number of dogs and horses would likely need during long weeks’ work in the winter woods.
Two of the thralls would return to the farm once the sleighs had been unloaded and Einnis’s camp had been properly set. Ketil had refused to send any free-men to help out with this. If their little party was attacked near Einstad, he could much better afford to lose a couple of thralls than any fighting men, he said. Einnis didn’t object, though he pointed out that an attack up in the woods of his new home was more than unlikely. As of yet there were no other farms up there, and therefore nothing to pillage worth long lonely treks through the snow. Neither was there easy passage through the hills and mountains to reach other valleys or farms.
As the four of them set out to travel north, one of the thralls happened to remove his woolen cap for a minute to scratch his scalp. Einnis saw that the man’s hair had been shorn as close to the head as he’d ever seen on any thrall. Eoin noticed Einnis frowning and staring at the man, and his own hand rose to his head instinctively.
“Ketil Elmarson ordered yesterday that male thralls should have their hair cut just so,” Eoin said. “They say he wants….. wants to make it clear for all to see who is a thrall, and who isn’t.”
Einnis said nothing to this, but his jaws clenched.
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Einstad looked peaceful and unchanged, as if time had been standing still after Einnis and his men left.
The four of them set about improving and strengthening the horses’ lean-to by the woods, so it would offer better protection against weather and wild animals. Nearby, hidden at the eaves of the wood, they built a little shelter with a frame of large pine branches and packed with snow on the outside. Two men would be able to sleep comfortably there. Einnis however returned to the smithy for the night, taking a couple of the dogs with him as before. He left the three thralls to sleep in the shelter.
Once the camp had been built and everything on the sleighs had been unloaded, Ketil’s thralls took their leave and returned home.
Einnis and Eoin were alone together.
They went about their tasks in comfortable silence, feeding the animals, lighting a fire, hauling water, preparing food, and storing the rest of the goods. Eventually it was time to turn in for the night. Eoin rose and glanced towards the smithy, then turned towards the shelter in the woods. He looked at Einnis, the question in his stance and expression easy enough to read.
Einnis sat looking intently into the fire, and didn’t move except to indicate the smithy with a nearly imperceptible nod in that direction.
A fleeting smile crossed Eoin’s face. He went on ahead, while Einnis remained where he was, sitting close enough for the fire to warm his hands and the heat to sting his face. He stayed for a long time in the flickering circle of light, staring into the flames as they shivered and jumped and created ever-shifting mystical shapes and colors in the still winter night, sparks occasionally flying high into the air only to die with a hiss when they hit the snowy ground.
Up above the sky had cleared. A magnificent array of stars stretched out, bright and beautiful, over the dark lonely woods and fields.
At long last Einnis rose and walked with slow and heavy steps to the stone-walled little house in the middle of the field. He stopped for a brief moment and looked around. Icy winter air enveloped him, wrapping him in frost. Snow glinted far and wide in the night. Cold stars like distant gems and a pale moon rode the skies above the smithy.
But inside there was heat and light enough to thaw the most frozen of hearts.
Eoin was sitting naked at the edge of the low pallet with his legs tucked in under himself. Warm light from the blazing fire on the little hearth played over his healthy young body and painted his skin from top to toe with blushes and golden-red hues.
Einnis met Eoin’s eyes and drew a deep breath, then dropped his gaze, unable to stop it from slipping downwards to where Eoin was hardening fast under his insistent stare. Einnis exhaled in a rush, and quickly averted his eyes, blood rising hotly to his cheeks.
He turned away sharply and started undressing on the other side of the hearth, his back to Eoin. With shaking hands he took off cloak and cap, loosened the long winding bands that held his trousers tight around his legs, removed his leather boots and woolen socks and the trousers one by one, and finally pulled the thick shapeless winter tunic over his head.
He stood tense and silent for a moment, his bare white legs looking cold and strangely vulnerable. At last he turned back to face Eoin, dressed only in his linen under-tunic, visibly tenting out in front.
Eoin had been waiting patiently and had neither moved nor spoken. Now he watched as Einnis made the few steps round the hearth to stand directly in front of him and then suddenly dropped to his knees, as if his legs had turned to water.
Einnis looked down to the earth floor, biting his lip, strangely powerless in the face of what he desperately wanted and craved. He had come this far, was here where fate for so long had prodded and pushed and persuaded him to go. Now he could reach out, touch and possess and devour and be devoured. But after many long months it was difficult to finally give up the fight.
He hesitated, uncertain, poised on the brink of a tempting yet frightening free-fall into the unknown.
Eoin leaned forward and cupped Einnis’s face between his hands, gently tilting it upward, and slowly bent down to seek his lips. Einnis twitched and resisted for one last moment, and then gave in. His lips met Eoin’s; his mouth opened under the soft sweet caresses, welcoming the tongue that sought entrance. They were cautious at first - tasting, teasing, sliding and savoring - but soon they moaned and sank into each other, deeper and deeper, pulled under by a maelstrom as their tongues twined together in wanton abandon.
Desperate for air they finally had to break apart. Gasping, Eoin reached down and took hold of Einnis’s tunic hem, the fine thin linen soft and supple against his laborer’s hands as he moved to reveal the body underneath. Einnis, unresisting, closed his eyes and raised his arms as if in final surrender. Without protest he let Eoin pull the tunic all the way off, and knelt before him completely naked, laid bare in the light from the hearth’s flames and the fire in Eoin’s eyes.
Einnis drew a breath and lifted his eyes to meet Eoin’s. They hungrily took in the sight of each other, reveling in strong muscled bodies, flushed skin and erect cocks, all of it screaming out to be grasped and enjoyed and greedily consumed.
Eoin backed off towards the inner wall, making room, and Einnis crawled onto the pallet, his every movement jerky with need. For a breathless moment the two of them knelt there, facing each other, raw desire rising like steam between them.
Eoin launched himself forward, butted his forehead against Einnis’s, gripped Einnis’s shoulders firmly, and pulled him close. “It’s all right,” he whispered, so out of breath he could hardly speak. “It’s all right”. He sensed that Einnis nodded, yielding himself completely.
Their mouths met once more, the tender kiss quickly evolving into bruising, desperate passion. Einnis groaned and trembled when their chests and thighs and cocks met. Pulling each other tight, still frantically kissing, they rubbed up against each other until both forgot where his own body began and the other’s ended, all the wide world melting and blurring and dissolving around them.
Eoin pushed, making Einnis lie back on the pallet. Smiling down with swollen lips and hazy eyes, he let his hands slide firmly down Einnis’s heaving chest, following the trail of blond sweaty curls. Suddenly Eoin rolled over, straddled Einnis, and pinned his hands above his head on the furs. He dove down for more kisses, deep and demanding, writhing on top of Einnis’s sweaty body beneath him, pressing down insistently as his willing captive strained up against him with equal force.
He let go of Einnis’s hands and braced himself on his arms, pushing himself up off the pallet. Between their bodies they could see how they met and tangled, their cocks crossed in a duel of lust, slippery and glistening with slick and sweat. Moaning, Einnis reached down and enveloped them in a strong calloused fist, stroking and pulling on both at once, over and again, his hand and their bodies moving to an ancient rhythm of thundering hearts.
Eoin was back down to Einnis’s mouth, their tongues licking and twining, matching each other gasp for frantic gasp, sucking and biting, groaning as they reached completion together.
Boneless, sighing and sated, Eoin flopped down on Einnis. His eyes closed. Einnis lifted a hand to stroke Eoin’s wet warm back a couple of times, letting it slide down to squeeze a buttock briefly before it fell limply to the side.
Their breathing slowed, but still they held fast to each other, skin to skin, warm and drowsy under the furs and blankets, contented beyond word or thought or hope or fear.
Without saying anything about it, they both knew how it would go for the rest of the winter.
Notes and explanations;
Fate - The Norse believed heavily in the concept of inescapable fate. The sagas and Norse poems are filled with references to fate being unavoidable, no-one escaping the Norns’ spinning, etc. etc. All that people could do, was live life cheerfully, well and with honor as long as fate allowed, and then calmly accept fate when it caught up with them.
Ice spurs - the Norse did not make use of horse shoes, but in winter they used metal spurs in the horses’ hoofs to avoid the animals slipping on ice.
Moon and Sun (Mani and Sol) - gods responsible for transporting their respective heavenly objects across the sky. Moon is always fleeing the wolf Hate, and Sun is always pursued by the wolf Skoll. At the end of the world, Ragnarok, the two wolves will overtake and devour both sun and moon. Here’s a neat illustration of this part of the Norse myths: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:The_Wolves_Pursuing_Sol_and_Mani.jpg
Loki and Tjatse - Tjatse was a giant who with the help of Loki abducted the goddess of youth, Idunn. When the gods found out (and were moreover growing old and grey) they threatened Loki to fetch Idunn back. He went to Tjatse’s home disguised as a falcon, found Idunn, transformed her into a nut, and then flew off with her. Tjatse in eagle shape followed in hot and angry pursuit. Loki barely made it back to Asgard where Tjatse was killed and burned. (Tjatse’s daughter Skadi repaid Loki for her father’s death when she later was to place a snake dripping venom over the bound Loki’s head.)
Ketil’s Helmet - Contrary to persistent belief, the Vikings did not have horns on their helmets, except for a few specially adorned helmets of leaders of certain cultish activities. Here’s an example of how one battle helmet may realistically have looked like: http://lh3.ggpht.com/__mrppPzCrsA/RkJoFGPIhqI/AAAAAAAAAUA/DVZp3jV9PSo/Solid+Norse+helmet.JPG
Tor and the Midgard’s Worm (on the shield) - The sagas mention such decorated shields several times. The Viking shields were large and circular. Midgard’s Worm is a serpent (“wyrm”) encircling the whole world. Tor once hooked it while fishing, using a bull’s head for bait. Tor will eventually meet and be killed by this Worm in Ragnarok.
Feasting in Valhall - the Norse believed that warriors who fell in battle (and only those) went to Odin’s immense home Valhall after death, where they would get to fight and kill each other each day and revive to be feasted each night on pork and mead.
“Then second I rede thee…. Etc.” - this verse comes from the Norse Edda poem Sigrdrivamal. Sigrdriva is a valkyrie who in the poem passes on wisdom to the hero (Siegfried of the Wagner operas).
The foreseeable happens, and the unforeseeable too - another Grettir Saga proverb.
Oppland/King Eystein - there was a petty kingdom called Oppland, and there have been various minor king Eysteins. The one in this fic is completely fictional, though.