Olaf The Great smacked Nana’s arse with his stick. “Be good little woman.”
Nana Yngvarrdottir looked at Olaf and raised her brow in a very quirky lift as she looked at him out of the corner of her. . . well, blind eye. She’d never told him the story, nor did she think his eyesight would have been good enough to see that she really wasn’t looking at him. “Mah feelings be ‘urt Olaf t’a Great..Yew run t’rough ‘ere and promise ta entertain us wit’ stories t’en yew disappear. Ah t’ought mah breath stinks or somet’ing.”
Olaf smiled at her. “Well, ye little one, when the mead flows stories do to. ” He tapped his cane to her backside again. “And I could tell you a thing or two about this here hold.”
Nana grabbed her skirts swooshing them from her backside. “Ah ever wit’ ‘old mead or a belly full, or t’a girl ta c’ew ita for yew before? Ne’er.” She looked back at her work and flicked a few things around “Ah be sure mah mate be just as ‘ospitable as mah ako ‘ave been wit’ yew.”
The Ancient looked at her with a sly grin. “There are a great many things you don’t know about the lands you walk upon but there are still some that know them well.” He chuckled. “So be kind and I might just might tell you what I know.”
The diminutive woman had always been overly nice to the Elder, and the dramatic blast of stepping over so many lines by another of her hold, her family’s hall – HER mate’s now – it’d been stressful with her heavier state. Emotions were raw as it was. “Mah apologizes Olaf t’a Great.” She reached out offering her hand to him. “T’ems drunk stone carvers got t’em selves taget’er Odin ‘elp ems but Ah still guide yew mahself ta a table.”
Olaf The Great took her hand with a toothless smile.”Aye, be kind to weary bones as I not need to hurt a hip or thigh walking through these lands.”
Nana regarded him with a smug little grin marked, only by her deeply creased eyes. “Of course not. Mah steps be just as gentle as yers t’ese days.” She said beaming with pride, though her eyes went straight to the path. She would follow him as she always had. He’d not had a horn last time he’d visited and a quick glance at his belts revealed to her she was right and he was hornless. She made a mental note to mention to her mate that she’d like to give the Elder a horn. He’d earned the right to have his own, and why he didn’t she wasn’t sure. She continued on to the table on the left of the rise and and let the tap pull back filling a pitcher to the brim with mead. She quickly grabbed a horn and tucked it under her arm before sliding a platter out. A few choice strips of meat were pulled from the roasted tarsks and then a hunk of bread. She rushed back to him. She had no desire to sit anywhere else but amongst the people. That other chair up there intimidated her unless Spec sat above her and even then . . she didn’t think it was right. She just slid back in next to him where she’d sat last visit. “Ah doubt Ah be much use for c’ew yer meat Olaf t’a Great, because mah appetite gonna make meh swallow it. But Ah rip it tiny for yew.”
The Elder smiled as his hand pressed to the table, glancing at her. “‘Tis all right, little lass. I been around long enough to know when a kindness is given but I don’t take that kinds lightly these days, so I do thank you for the hand, as you have shown this old one more respect than I have seen in ages. I have walked many lands and most of the time my passing barley gets noticed as though I was just ghost passing in the breeze . But why would such a pretty one want to know of this ones history?”
She stood back up realizing, she’d not even gave him a chance to wash his mysterious wanderings from his hands. “Oh! Wait, Elder.” She said quickly, embarrassed, as she ran back to the kitchen and grabbed a small bowl and filled it with water that had been warming on the hearth. She reached for a new rep cloth, barely able to keep her balance, mumbles of “lazy girls and empty halls” leaving her lips as she dashed back out to the belly of the Great Hall. She slid the bowl across to him and then walked back to her seat next to him and held the rep out ready to dry his hands before he ate. She’d still not poured the promised steady flow of mead. But he hadn’t started a story either. “W’y would Ah not want ta know, Elder? T’a past write t’a future. Ifna yew don’t know it, ‘ow do know yew w’ich way yew sypposed ta go?” She looked over at him, now really turning the good eye to him “Mah family try ‘ard ta escape ‘istory..ita be wrong, we suffer for it..”
The wizened old man dipped his hands in the bowl, washing the day’s travels from each of them, a crooked smile on hi lips. He took up the bowl, swallowing a mouth full and swishing it back and forth before spitting it back into the bowl. He reached out to take the cloth and patted his mouth dry and dried his hands. “Now lass, the stories I could tell you might surprise you in many ways.” Tapping the stick to the floor hard enough that the stones echoed from under them as he flashed her a wink. “But that time may not be now for the telling, as what you seek my lay at your feet and you just cant see it.” His chuckling echoed around the hall.
Nana watched the man and tried not to let her face show her queasiness too apparently. She finally poured that promised mead and handed him the horn so she could start ripping the meat into tiny pieces as the sudden hit against the stone about made her jump from her skin. She paused and looked up at him. “Yew see t’a ‘all form? T’a Gods t’eyselves did is w’at t’ey say.” She said and wrinkled her nose as she debated on chewing his meat, but in no way, shape or form would she do it as her bond had. She finally decided her mate probably would not object because the man had no teeth, except wooden ones. She quickly popped a piece up to her lips and chewed, fast and furious, before setting it out on the plate. “Ita big place Olaf t’a Great. Yew tell meh ifna t’a stone all fly tagether. “ard ta believe but Ah saw stranger t’ings…” She looked at the mead pitcher wishing she could have a horn herself, but no, no, she’d not do that with the babe. She turned back to him, picking up a second piece of meat to keep him up a steady supply of pre-chewed food. “Yew know, each of us t’at came ‘ere with mah Ako were seeking different t’ings.. some pure, others not…T’ey ne’er make it past t’a door without ita catching t’em and t’a ones not pure, t’ey werent looking for t’a same as Ah mahselve look for”
He heard her words and smiled at her, taking the bite of chewed meat. He popped it in his mouth and his eyes grew bigger as the horn was filled. Greedily, he reached out for it and took a few quick sips, leaning back as he shuffled his arse to face her a little more. “Down through the ages stories have been told and told again but it’s hard to find one that was there at the first telling, and even more rare to find one that had been there as it unfolded.” He took a few more swigs from the horn. Tapping the floor once more an echo came from under them. His eyes lifter to hers. “These lands here are such a place I have walked before. These stones seem old to you but to me, I walked these stone when they where freshly carved.” Taking up another bite of meat, he slid it between his lips, savouring the flavour of it before adding another sip of mead to wash it down. “How old do you think I am, lass?Do I look frail to you? Has the passage of time made me diluted in mind and spirit? I think not, as I have seen things you have only heard about. I have stood with the great ones of the past and I bring you their words, not in a handed-down story but as a first-hand account, as I was there with them..
verandi came in from tending the farm. Seeing the Free sitting at the table, she moved gracefully with quick strides, stepping over to the tarsk and mead barrels. She grasped the horn serving vessel at her hip and she filled the large intricate horn with warm mead, her fingers reaching for the sachet of spices, sprinkling them over the top. She secured it firmly in place back at her hip. She reached for a large platter and pulled the juiciest, finest selections of meat from the roasted tarsk, placing them on the platter, then turned on her toes, blonde hair flowing across heated slave flesh, full breasts heaving, and made her way to the table.
Nana sucked in her bottom lip and started chewing as frantically as her nervous habit allowed her. She would have scooted back from him, because yes, he was one of the oddest-looking living things she’d ever seen in her whole life. But the intrigue kept her glued right where she was. She cringed a bit and rubbed her hands together on her thighs before reaching for meat to chew, hurrying to make a pile for him because she didn’t want to miss this first-hand account of his tale. She looked down at the tap of the stones again and it was only now that she’d heard the echo she’d missed the first time. Her eyes dropped down at second before looking back up at him. How old could the Ancient really be? She herself was well into her 332 year of life. She considered herself young, but old enough to understand that some things were indeed best heard from the source. “Ah couldn’t even come close and Ah ne’r wish ta insult yew, Elder,” she said as she heard the pat of verandi coming in behind her “Heilsa mine. His meat is ta t’ick for ims.” She scooted back finally and allowed her room to crawl up on the table.
The old man chugged a big swig of mead and his brow furrowed. “At the dawn of time we came climbing the great cliffs between the two great mountain chains of the high north. We were the first ones to place a foot on this land you now call home. I was here as the first stones were quarried and then laid. These hands . . . ” holding them up to her now with age they shook ” . . . have been used to construct this hall . These eyes have seen many secrets which you are likely not even able to guess at. But for me they are not that far away.” He looking at the bond with a smile “Greetings, girl, ” he said, scooting back for the girl to climb up. “When you came here I am betting all you saw were mere remnants of the hall you have rebuilt now and I also see not one stone of the floor has been touched. Am I right? But what lies at your feet is worth more than you could ever have dreamed of.” He stared directly into her eyes “What you walk upon everyday and not even give a second thought, like where all these stones came from, as I am sure you have not seen any mines or quarries anywhere near here have you?” A broad grin came to his lips as he waited to see her response.
verandi grinned as she leaned forward, placing the large platter of meat upon the table, seeing the one there was looking slim for pickings. She looked at her Mistress’s horn and, seeing she was in need of more, she pulled the vessel at her hip free, filling the horn to its rim with the fresh warm mead. Her fingers slid gently over her Owners, and she whispered a sweet prayer for her well being as she smiled brightly a her before turning on her toes. Seeing the handsome ole Jarl she remembered from earlier, she grinned brightly and slipped up onto the table before him. Grasping a piece of tarsk meat, she placed it gently between her teeth having remembered the routine. She reached forward for his horn as she held the serving vessel ready in her hands and grinned over at her Mistress. “Heilsa, my Mistres.” She turned back to the Jarl before gaving him a sultry wink as her heat ached and her belly burned with desire remembering her last encounter with him. “Heilsa, Jarl” she said, as she held the meat between her teeth.
The Red Hunter woman listened with a gleam in her eye that had been recently glassed over with all the stresses haunting these halls. First the horrible days the dark clouds refused to leave the hills, then her ako handing over the symbol of struggle and strife, Spec disappearing, then Gab again, Halls echoing in history that shouldn’t have been repeated but was, over and over . . . until it couldn’t house life any more. She’d heard the tales too, just different on her side of the great barriers. “Ah saw loose, Elder w’en we first marched t’ese ‘ills.” She looked up at verandi satisfied that she had a girl that served all Jarls…Gods know Nana herself might have thought twice only because the man’s appearance scared her. “But loose isnt w’at Ah really found w’en ita be all Ah see at first.” She looked down at the stones again that he continued to gesture to. She’d heard that portion of the tale as well. But that wasn’t her interest here, although it was of others. “Olaf t’a Great, second t’ought maybe ne’r, but being grateful does make yew wonder w’at lay beneath. Somet’ing so wonderful t’at it can come back ta life if yew just take a deep breath and s’are ita wit’ it instead of just being greedy?” She sat back now pulling a leg up; she thought about his question, and for the first time realised she’d not, but Vil always seem to find ore practically leaping from the grounds around the hall.
verandi grinned as she saw the Man scoot back in his seat, her supple thighs parting wider as she wriggled on her heels. Her soft legs wiggle upon the wood of the table as she slipped down onto his lap, a wide grin on her face. She pulled the chewed meat from between her teeth, blonde locks falling to graze over heaving breasts, pert nipples pressed against his chest as she shifted on his lap. Her fingers trailed down his arm and she leaned forward, her luscious lips grazing over his collarbone. Holding the meat gently in her fingers, she waited for him to finish speaking so as to not interrupt his wise words, her heat aching as she longed for his slightest touch. Her mind raced with the nights she’d woken with the wise man in her mind. Her radiant green orbs danced over his aged skin, not of being old – the marks and lines he bore were of pure wisdom that none other she’d encountered in all her years had yet to match. Her lithe frame swayed slightly as she dazed off into thought. Her mind momentarily lapsing off, she looked at her Owner.
Olaf The Great leaned forward to her taking the bit of meat the bond had chewed. He took the morsel, kissing her and nodding to her. “So, lass, what is it you seek from these lands? A home? Perhaps a place of safety?” His eyebrow raised “Or perhaps you seek something you don’t even know you’re looking for yet?” He leaned closer to her. “This land has riches beyond your wildest dreams.” Taking a sip from the horn, he reached to his pack and removed a small bottle of black iron ore, tipping it over on the table, watching as it spilled onto the wooden top. “You know what this is, lass?” His gaze went between the woman and the bond. “This is why I came when I saw the hall has been rebuilt and life once more has sprung forth from the lands.” Taking the bit of meat, one hand moved down her side, coming to rest on the bonds arse. “You bring life to a hall I once loved and gave my blood to and now it is reborn, raised from the ruins in which you found them and in turn you have found yourselves, also. Am I not right?” A slight chuckle came from his lips. “Now your mind is racing, the thirst for my words becoming even greater to know the secrets of the lands you now walk upon.”
Nana glanced up at verandi and slipped her spoon from her belts and popped the bond’s thigh to get the girl’s attention back on chewing meat. His teeth had Nana doing it herself until she’d walked in. Na then lifted the spoon to her lips and whispered a “shh” and pointed it to Olaf as if telling her to listen. She then looked back at Olaf and found herself propping an elbow on the table so her chin could rest in a palm, leaning in. Of all the days Spec took to the walls again and Gab was missing, Olaf finally tells what he knows of these lands. Nana could feel the close bond he’d had with the lands the day she’d found him sitting outside the hall and had immediately welcomed him inside, though she’d been told not to allow anyone in. He’d become a fixture here of wisdom, though, so her intuition hadn’t led her wrong. She looked now at the thud of the heavy material he crashed out on the table from that satchel. She’d always wondered if it had been the cause of his deep lean, rather than age, and just shook her head. She’d never seen the pure ground form of ore . . . any ore. She looked at verandi with a questioning look. Surely if Nana didn’t know the bond wouldn’t either. She then looked at Olaf again, turning her body completely to side so she could watch his face when she spoke. ” T’at ne’r be somet’ing t’at Ah would call treasure Elder.” She said slowly, “But like yew be as right as yew ever are. We found ourselves in t’a ruins of a ‘all t’at was said t’a be long forgotten and t’a ways t’at constructed it, forever lost. T’a treasure ta meh was t’a way t’a stones spoke ta mah Ako, called mah mate ta meh, leading ims ‘ere after, and cleared t’a valr for us ta find it . . . and give us ‘ope our travels ne’r be in vain..” She looked back to the clump he’d rolled onto the table and pointed a single finger out to poke it “But t’at Ah dont know.”
verandi grinned as she leant against him, her small frame jumping slightly as she felt the spoon hit her thigh. Her green eyes quickly peered down t her leg before turning to grasp another piece of meat. Putting it between her teeth speedily, she began chewing softly, looking between the two. Shifting her weight on his lap, full hips rolling softly, she leaned forward. Pressing her small outstretched finger to his chest, she began drawing small shapes as she’d seen on the ruins in the caves, her mind trying to focus on the chewing. Perhaps paying a bit to much attention to different tasks, she looked up as her eyes widened having eaten the piece of meat. She looked between the two furtively, seeing them lost in conversation with each other. She grasped another piece of meat, popping it deftly in her mouth, hoping it hadn’t been noticed that she’d already taken one. She chewed it much more carefully this time so as to not devour the juicy meat, then held it between her teeth for his taking.
The Ancient let out a cackle as he reckoned that she wouldn’t know what the ore was. He reached up, grasping the bond’s iron collar, shaking it lightly. “See this? You know what it’s made of, right?” His hand moved to the ore on the table. “That’s what her collar is made of, aye, though this may not be smelted and refined. It is iron ore, lass, and these stones upon which you walk cover the greatest iron mine in all of Gor ” Taking up my walking stick this time he brought it down to the stones with a greater force. As the wood hit stone, the echo was plain to hear for all nearby. “And this hold sits atop it all .” Smiling at her, he leaned forward taking the morsel from the bond as he quickly chased it with a sip from the horn. “So, lass, are my words true or not? Do you really think that this hall could sit upon the richest iron mine in all of Gor? Have you searched for its entrance? Do you hunger to know where it is, or shall I end my tale here and speak of the rest at another time?”
The tiny woman looked at verandi’s neck as he yanked on her collar that was riveted to the girl’s neck by the hand of her missing ako. The importance he’d placed on it told Na it was very precious, but precious, just like the word treasure, meant so many things to so many. She looked back at Olaf now and wrinkled her nose as she sat there thinking over what he was saying. This hall? Her blood’s hall, her mate’s, sat on the biggest settlement of this iron, that she herself, at one time in her life, so long ago had to fight her inhibitions to earn? That she’d watched too many a girl demand so much of herself to earn? That was a treasure in its own mark? A slave wearing the very metal that defends us all in the hands of of the men trained to wield them. Precious to both in very different ways . . . worthless to others. She looked back over to verandi as she curled around the odd older man with worn skin and knowledge Nana only wished she could understand. She finally looked down at the stones. Her toe traced over the curve of the intriguingly placed stones, twisted with care this way and that, and the perfect mortar so precisely pressed between them. She looked back at the tip of the walking stick. Her eyes then drifted back to the wrinkled portrait of a living soul that somehow defied odds on the great scales. “Olaf t’a Great, w’ile Ah only wish ta know one t’ing, many in t’is ‘all wish ta ‘ear t’a end. Could Ah hear both t’en or do Ah only get ta pick one? T’a answer ta t’a question t’at always burn in mah mind, but ah just now piece taget’er, or just t’a end of t’a tale yew say now, fictional or not…yew ‘ave yet ta say either.” She looked back at verandi a split second and then Olaf. It was not fiction, she was sure of it, but no one would never know unless they sought it, like Vil. He’d just been wandering yesterday. Her own curiosity grew as to how a man his age, condition and appearance could make this hike and survive . . . for the good of the hold.
verandi raised her chin as she felt the Man’s fingers wrap about the iron riveted to her throat. Her small frame trembled as she felt the shake given to it. Her heart raced and swelling breasts heaved in anticipation. His strong touch melted her being; her heat ached as she longed for the strong touch of such a wise well-educated Jarl. Her small head remained raised high baring her collared neck for his will; her eyes peering over to her Mistress before returning to the Jarl. “Yes, Jarl, it is made of the finest iron brought from house Yngvarr, said to be the best in all of Gor, Jarl.” Her eyes glimmered with pride as she spoke. She knew she belonged to one of the most sought after and finest houses of Gor. She turned her small upper body, reaching slender fingers over to the platter as her eyes remained locked on his. Pulling another piece of meat in her small hands she pondered an ihn how much tarsk could one Jarl eat. A wide grin formed on her lips as she struggled to not slam her small hand onto her thigh and shout out, “So that’s how he keeps such stamina.” She grinned as she wiggled upon his lap. Reaching up, she filled his horn again from the pitcher she still clung to in her other. Her Mistress’s voice pulled her from her thoughts as she tilted her head to listen. She smiled as she narrowed her eyes, not in rudeness, but as she tried to defragment her words. She always did love listening to her Owner speak; the longer the sentences the funnier the game of Mistress scrabble got. She’d almost mastered this task as the words she didn’t understand she simply nodded in agreement. She grinned brightly knowing one day such an action would bite her in the butt when the unknown words would not be in her benefit. She raised a slender hand to rub her cheek as she turned back to the Jarl.
A Wide grins crept across the old man’s lips as he waved the girl off his lap. He rose to his feet standing fully upright, almost forgetting himself as he hunched over once more, with a groan at the weight of the pack. Raising the horn and draining it in one fluid motion, he said, “Now come with me, lass, as I have one thing to show you before the tale can be completed, and since your mate sits at the head of this hold it shall be only your eyes that shall see what I have to show. You must swear to me an oath that only you may know of this till it’s time. A sign from the gods will show you when it shall be told to your mate after that.” Looking about he noted the walls where not where they used to be, but the floor was intact and would show the path as he lead her away from the main part of the hall, checking behind them to make sure they were not followed. “Come closer, lass. This is only for your ears for now but in time you shall tell your mate what you have learned here this night.”
Nana looked over at verandi and shooed her away She watched as the deceptively old looking man got to his feet, hump still intact as he rose stronger than she’d seen him before. He seemed to just have a presence about him tonight stronger than she had seen or felt the first moon’s rising when she let her intuition control her thought. She stood up, hesitantly, too. She looked at verandi again…She’d taken that girl everywhere with her but she’d not now. Her eyes turned down to the stones and again she traced the stones. When they’d first arrived, she had sat at the edge of the ruined crumbled walls and just stared at the floor. It had always confused her how all but the floor, the foundation of all that had held up all the crumbled, decrepit pieces on top, had remained the framework for her ako’s stone masons, had held fast through the downfall that had let this hall die before they’d arrived with a vengeance. “Iie, is true mah Ugi head t’is ‘all but ita be meh yew wish ta s’ow and not ims?” She was blushing again as she had when Vil called her Lady of the HighJarl. She couldn’t get her mind around the fact her ako . . . gave up. It terrified her. Tannik and his Ghost. Gab never ever gave up. She looked troubled as she held her hand out to the enigma with a wrinkled face. “Brace on, meh Elder” she said as she always allowed him to do.
Olaf took her offered arm and led her from the hall to a passage way e knew very well. He upturned the walking stick and it seemed to glow with a life of its own. He stood firm, unaided by it. He rose further looking over her as he touched the tip with a twist, revealing an oddly-shaped key. He scanned the floor, a gleam in his eye, as he took the staff and drove it into the stones where five came together. A clap of thunder echoed throughout the hall as the staff was driven deeper into the floor. A finger went to his lips, chuckling, as the floor parted and a stone turned under the one next to it. “This here, lass, is its entrance and down in the depths you will find the treasure. Before this time only the gods knew where it was and now I pass that onto you to keep it safe and not to let it be known past these walls.” Gripping her shoulder, a warmth passed from his hand, and he looked deep into her eyes “You may be feeling things deeper now and a change in you is growing as blood become blood so you shall be renewed. Wait for the sign. You will know when it is. ” With that said, he slumped over once more, the gleam fading from his eyes as he became what he once was the first time they met. Taking the staff, he pulled it from the floor as what was one now became two. “Take the staff, lass, and hide it well.”
Nana looked over at the man as they glided through the hall , his weight becoming lighter on her offered hand as they walked down the hall that she always thought looked out of place. Nana was a thinker, not a speaker, and had passed it to at least one of her sons. The other was just wild from her womb, which she knew had purpose as well, but her and Ataneq’s gift of watching and absorbing was something she’d come to survive on. She looked down at the floor where they’d stopped and saw nothing, then up at Olaf again. Her eyes, both of them, even the blinded eye, saw Olaf, not the wrinkled hunching elder that she had come to admire just for the wisdom that came from his weathered sunken lips, but the heart that it took to keep going when no one listened any more. So many had stopped listening. He was Olaf the something, but it lasted only a breath, and then her one brown eye found a familiar face again as Thunder struck down around them though it never showed itself. Tootega was running hard tonight, and Na prayed she found steady foot and would bring the Hunters of this hall that had gone missing home. She gave the the strength of her chase to her mate as a key of sorts past from one old-aged, well-lived hand to another soft, hard-lived young hand. She looked back down to the stones and she saw, without seeing, what was there. Her breath stuttered as she stepped back. She didn’t want such responsibility, but who was she, but a woman, to tell this ancient Elder no. She looked back at him, eyes wider than platters of roasted game and steamed greenery. “Olaf t’a Great, yew are just as yer name say…T’is ne’r be mah treasure, but t’at of men. W’y yew keep meh t’is?” she asked as she looked back at the wind echoing hall that had a whole new light. “Ah dont deserve t’is secret.”
The Elder looked at her and placed a hand on her swollen belly “This is why, blood of my blood.” Turning to head back to the hall as the weight once again returned to his back, hunching over and gripping the staff with a shaky hand looking once more old and frail. “Lass, you have just seen what until now only the gods knew about. Take my words to heart as you have brought life back to my home and once again the walls shall echo with the sounds of life. He walked back and headed up the stairs to the alcove she’d shown him the first time he’d gone there, having to stop at the fist landing to catch his breath, then set forth to finish the climb. “I do thank you for your kindness.”
The small woman stood there. Her expression was a mixture of many things, and confusion was not even close to describing what she felt. She was sure she’d heard him right. Had she? She just looked down at the man’s hand and then he was gone. She fell back against the stone walls and closed her eyes as a hand went to her growing treasure . . . yes her treasure. All the iron in Gor could not take the place of what grew inside her now, had grown inside her and now protected these walls. She opened her eyes again, closing one at a time, but no, the blind liquid blue eye was devoid of life and sight again. She could still feel an old withered hand over her belly, but when she looked down, the Old Elder was gone. Had he even been there to begin with? She pushed up from the wall and stood there, swaying, with something buzzing in her head. She took an unsteady step as she turned towards the entrance. She was pale, shaken, and she walked in silence as she needed another look at her mate now. She must see his face while the flash of clarity was still fresh in her mind.. He’d think she was crazy, she was sure. “OLAF WAIT!” she screamed down the hall as she took off after the ghost of Torv..
She was as pale as a the ghost she’d just seen. She stopped just short of Soec and just stood there, neck craned back to a position that would have hurt most but she’d grown accustomed to this awkward view from the bottom of his chin. She never said anything, but instead reached up, pushing as high as she could get on her tip-toes until just the tips of her slender fingers could reach the end of his beard. She pulled it to get him to look directly at her. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, because it’d been so illuminated it would have blinded those that weren’t already, and maybe that’s why she saw it. She would stare at him deeper than she had ever before and then gasped and dropped his beard. She took a few steps back as her hands went protectively to her swollen belly again. With two steps back, she turned and ran to the cabin over the pass bridge they shared. She needed something. Her odd behaviour wouldn’t even phase her, but it would most likely alarm him. It didn’t matter.
Spec raised an eyebrow not sure what had just taken place, wondering why she’d acted the way she had. The look on her face was strange; her eyes seemed to look at him for the first time. Not sure of what was going through her mind or the reason it had happened, he took a long draught from the skin, hoping she heard that he needed more mead. He decided to wait to see if that’s why she’d run off in such a hurry.
Nana was out of breath by the time she reached the cabin. Clusters of snow clung to the hem of her skirts and weighted her steps until she stomped her boots free on the threshold of the door. She went straight to the little chest he’d recently given her and dropped to her knees, digging through the jewellery, coins and finery he’d gifted her until she found that one thing she had added herself. It’d been just a glimpse peeking from the ground when they arrived. She’d dug it out and hidden it in her skirts. It was a drinking horn with the strangest marks she’d ever looked at. Nothing she’d seen before came close and it even seemed to glow. She had been told that maybe the gods, their gods, had built these walls and it always made her smile to think she held a horn the lips of a god may have touched. She pulled it out and then replaced its position with the key that had been entrusted to her. She still couldn’t figure out why. She was just a woman that watched the hall . . . though more than that really, HighJarl’s woman . . . sister of the former missing HighJarl . . . it all confused her so badly and carried a weight as heavy as the mjolnir surely felt like to her ako. But this horn didn’t belong to her any more. It’d sought its owner and found him. She pushed up to her feet and ran back out in a mad dash, wrapping the horn in her skirts as she ran.
Spec was standing at the wall, drifting in deep thought as calm washed over his frame. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath, inhaling the cooling air, though he did not feel a chill. As his chest filled with the air, he raised his eyes to the heavens and words started falling from his lips in a language most would not understand. Almost in a hushed breath, he spoke, standing there feeling a warmth wash over him.
His woman returned, huffing and panting and reached up, tapping him in the small of his back because that was the highest she could get. “T’is be yers Ugi,” was all she said in broken pauses. The glowing horn came rolling from her skirts, massive in her hands, but she was positive would fit his. “Ah found it.” Her words were still trembling with the experience she’d just had. She couldn’t sort it; she was lost.
Spec took hold of the horn, looking at her and thinking she’d made it for him. A smile came to his lips. He reached down and lifted her up to taste her lips. “I love you, my woman.” He held her close to him and it felt good to feel her so near and the taste of her drove him mad with desire. Setting her back down, he looked at the horn. His gaze was transfixed on the horn. As he held it in his hand a strange feeling came over him as if he’d once held it before but his mind could not place when or where it might have taken place.
Nana watched as the horn changed hands, from her own to the rightful owner. She would not tell him just yet why she brought it to him or what had happened in the hall and it would absolutely eat her alive keeping things, one thing, from him. She stood there and looked at him a moment longer. She would only hear her brother’s words as she walked to the hall . . . “We are favoured and blessed amongst the mists. Only those that belong will make it this far. The men and their offspring will return a blessing on those below the mists because these men, they are the leaders.” She stopped at the bottom of the towers. She looked down at the snow . . . ani . . . her eyes closed again searching for reasons she’d probably never find, answers that she would chase for many moons. She looked back at the towers and then just shook her head . . . lost – no that wasn’t the word . . .
Beyond the mist of the Valr 