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Post by Jenny on Jul 2, 2014 22:33:11 GMT -5
Now, the Jarl was a serious man but he was not without humor. The head of the household was a stern women, her face wrinkled from pursing her lips so often in disapproval of the result of this task or that. She had hovered at the door of Jarl Halldorr’s smaller serving hall where he died, sometimes with his son or intimate guests, in order to see that the food was warm and satisfactory, and with the traditional role of making sure that the food had not been tampered with, or at the worse, poisoned, in which her position would be promptly filled again. At times the servants truly wished that day would come so harsh was she many a time. But the chores got done quickly and efficiently, for the fact that this was a Jarl’s household and nothing so simple as gentry demanded perfection. The horrified tone of the manservant carried the words to the Jarl’s ears, and as his housematron’s eyes practically popped out of her head and her skin became the rose color of new apples, he began to chuckle. The woman wheeled about, asking the Jarl for forgiveness and patience while she saw to the matter herself. He raised a hand and beckoned her leave.
She stomped through the servants hallway, livid. The manservant who had reported her followed like a dutiful dog. The brisk morning air hit her face as she walked briskly across the grounds but it did nothing to cool her temper. The húscarl would not bother her with such nonsense, but a guardsman had been called, who stood at the ready, stiffening to his full height as he regarded the small woman’s fury. She was not a Nord herself but instead had come across the sea as a bought and sold slave. She was not that young when she reached the Norse shores, but having been serving houses all of her life she took to the position without much resistance. Better to serve in a Jarl’s household with bountiful food than to go hungry.
“What exactly is going on here?” She demanded, her hands rising to her hips. Her fingers tapped her apron impatiently. The guardsman rolled his eyes, for he was no slave nor servant but a free man. This woman’s reputation preceded her, so to keep the interaction short he simply told her what she wanted to hear, confirming that what the manservant had reported was not an overexaggeration.
“Then break the door down. I’m sure you can manage that!” She said indignantly.
The guardsman nodded to the other who fetched a ply bar and a good sized axe. The iron bars binding the door were pried off of the wood, and once this had been done, the wood of the door vulnerable to the axe, they began to break the heavy door down, all the while the woman tapping her foot impatiently.
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Post by KD on Jul 2, 2014 22:40:49 GMT -5
Ironically, the Jarl had been worried about the one thing he neednt be in regards to Eira and that was her affect on the servants. Asger and his guardsmen and close servants might have feared her, but none of the lesser servants did, because Eira never harmed or even inconvenienced them unless they hurt her first. In fact, some of Asger's servants had been expecting something like this and were very careful not to laugh in public when they heard.
The manservant, eager to get into the matron's good graces, waited for the guard to break the door down and scurried in quickly, only to start howling and dancing around on one foot as one of the mousetraps closed over it. She'd pulled them from the walls and set them up in a neat line just inside the door.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 2, 2014 22:52:19 GMT -5
The audible snaps of the mousetraps as the manservant awkwardly shifting around caused the matron to push one of the guardsmen aside as they began to laugh at the sight and looked in in, taking in the situation with pursed lips, clearly not amused by the situation.
“Get out of there, you idiot, you’re in the way!” She reached out and caught his shift sleeve and pulled him out of there as soon as he was near enough. He stumbled as she practically tossed him to the side. He lost his balance and rolled away on the ground away from the granary. The matron immediately moved out of the way to observe the guards as the one with the axe used the head of it to strike away the mouse traps from the doorframe enough that he could get it. They snapped and crackled, letting fly dusty crumbled bits of cheese. He sought out the Celtic woman, raising the axe when he spotted her.
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Post by KD on Jul 2, 2014 23:01:36 GMT -5
His spotting her was immediately followed by a jar of pickled beets hitting him in the face, because she was in the rafters high above their heads, munching pensively on a chunk of cheese, as she had helped herself to a large chunk of each one. How in the world she'd gotten up there was a mystery but the bottom half of her dress was torn almost to mid thigh, her long legs tucked beneath her and the cloth draped over the rafter so she could sit on it comfortably. That was probably how she'd gotten supplies up into the rafters with her. She had many jars of jams and preserved vegetables with her, along with several loaves of bread, the cheese, and various other foods lined beside her on the rafters. On top of that, she hadn't been able to get any of the kegs up into the rafters but she'd put the spigots into a cask of the good ale and wine and filled several jars up with it. She sipped from a jar filled with ale now, watching them.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 2, 2014 23:26:58 GMT -5
The jar’s weight hitting him full force on the cheek made his head twist to the side and backwards. Though it did not break his neck it was quite painful, and the glass shattered against his jaw, causing his face and neck to bleed with countless scratches and in places shards embedded themselves into the meat of his face. He screamed in pain as he went down, impaling himself with even more glass shards, the vinegar in the jar soaking his tunic and the beets crushed against his clothes. This made all three of the others back away, cautious of her throwing range. The other guardsman looked royally pissed off just after he pulled his wounded brother-at-arms out of the granary.
“Get the resident doctor immediately,” he ordered to the manservant. Then he turned to the matron. “You’d better tell the Jarl what has happened here.”
The two servants scrambled towards the manor as fast as their legs could carry him, the young manservant bounding and the head-matron wheezing behind to report to the Jarl, though she did not relish the task.
The guardsman who remained slid a bow out of its linen casing and pulled the bowstring tight swiftly, notching an arrow and pulling back on the bow once it had been strung. He pointed it upwards through the door towards the Celtic bitch, though he did not pull it full force, for he just wanted to hold her there to await further orders. He assumed that the woman would not be able to understand him, but the message was clear enough. The minutes ticked by, but he did not waver in his aim, having the mind not to fatigue himself by pulling the arrow all the way back but prepared to let it fly with a simple pull of his arm. The arrow point remained in her direction, even when she made small movements.
The Jarl was not amused, and said that she was his son’s affair. After Ulfr was told what was happening, he left the manor immediately. His footsteps were heavy and determined, a fresh guardsman at his heels. He was in a fine rage and a dark look crossed his brow when he assessed the wounded guardsman’s state of health. The soldier’s skin and clothes were streaked with red but he was awake and alert and responded clearly if spoken to.
Ulfr sized up the situation immediately as the guard holding the bow slid slightly to the side to make room for him. He trod carefully as so much splintered wood and glass was about. The doorway was wide enough for two men walking side by side so there was no need for crowding. Ulfr frowned deeply, his stormy blue eyes took in the woman perched up in the rafters. He cared not for the fact that she had helped herself to the Jarl’s stores and he shoved it from his mind.
“Let an arrow fly at my word, but hit nothing vital. I will speak to her first.” Ulfr told the guardsman.
“You,” he jerked his chin up at her. “I know you can understand my tongue, I have seen it in your eyes when I look at you.” He was bluffing only slightly, for even though he had the idea that she could there was no promise of a verbal response. “I would ask, for the benefit of your own health, that you refrain from wounding any of my people from this time forward… Now, come down from there.” He pointed to the ground, his jaw set hard.
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Post by KD on Jul 2, 2014 23:38:41 GMT -5
She cocked her head as if bewildered and not understanding him, though she did. Some of the words were still beyond her but as a whole she knew their language, though it left a foul taste in her mouth. She said something in her own tongue, and then flicked a mousetrap at him at top speed. By the time it was halfway down, she'd scurried quick as a mouse between two rafters higher up and it was clear she'd already put some thought into this. It wouldn't be impossible for the guard to shoot her if he angled himself correctly but it would be very very hard in the closed space.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 2, 2014 23:55:09 GMT -5
Ulfr narrowed his eyes as she disobeyed him. Even in the case she could not fathom what he had said, she had slighted his position by not complying with his physical gesture that she should drop down to the floor. As she spoke, he assumed that it was some sort of profanity, which was not hard to believe. He slapped the mouse trap aside with an easy movement, which thudded dully against the packed dirt floor. He was surprised that she had refrained from hurling a second jar at his own face instead, which made him strangely curious. Now that she was well away from the food she had placed in rafter niches, he stepped forward further into the store room, the guardsman with the bow at his side and the other guard now in the doorway. He too had fitted an arrow to a strung bow and trained it up to where he had last seen her.
The doctor had at last reached the wounded man and, having assessed that walking would not aggravate his wounds, the doctor helped the guardsman to his feet rather than the stretcher that had been pulled out by his assistants. The doctor allowed the man to go at his own pace, and caught a curious glance at what remained of the store house’s doors strewn about the ground where the wood had been pried down as the axe had hacked away at it, and of the guardsman who mostly blocked his vantage point. He turned away and his assistants and the wounded guardsman walked back to the manor.
Ulfr drew no weapon himself, only looked up at what he could see of her so far above them. The guardsman moved so that he could get a clear shot, and waited for an order without once taking his eyes off of the target. Ulfr was in no hurry, this was a lesson to finish.
“A bird will come down from the sky if you wound the wing. Shoot her.”
The arrow that was let loose struck at one hand that kept her propped up into position.
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Post by KD on Jul 3, 2014 0:07:45 GMT -5
By that time Asger had heard about what was going on. Sorrowful that he had given a gift that caused so much trouble for his dear friend, he gave the Jarl something he'd taken from the girl and considered a much finer prize than the woman herself. It was a thick necklace of interlocking rings formed of silver, intricate designs carved into the rings holding it together. On one hand it was a beautiful piece but on the other it made him uneasy to acknowledge it. It was so easy to view her and her people as beasts and animals but then Asger would come across one of their standing stones or even once he'd seen one of the great circles made up of giant stones, or some of their work like this necklace the girl had been wearing when he'd captured her.
She shifted as the guard moved, angling herself to give some protection but her hand and arm were indeed exposed and though she tensed and jerked as sharply as she dared while maintaining her balance, the arrow nicked her, drawing a yelp of pain from her lips.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 3, 2014 0:20:41 GMT -5
The guard smirked with satisfaction as the Celtic bitch made the sound of pain, a little disappointed that he did not wound her worse with the arrow but pleased to cause a bit of pain to she that wounded his kinsman so horrifyingly. Ulfr made no indication that he was satisfied, for his goal was simply to force her to come down, not to cause her any lasting wounds. She was quick, he had to give her that. He was reminded of Asger’s account of how she had been captured and that she had easily killed a seasoned Viking. He watched her curiously, not quite fascination, but instead calculating her abilities.
“Fire again. Bring her down.” He said simply. The guardsman maneuvered and shot higher up upon her exposed arm.
The Jarl accepted the gift with his thanks, turning the necklace over in his hands, the metal making satisfying clinks. It was not meant to be a gift of wealth but of appreciative beauty. “You say this was made by the Celts?” He studied its intricacies. “To think such savages could make something so beautiful…” he set it down upon the table, withdrawing his hand and leaving it to sit there.
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Post by KD on Jul 3, 2014 0:29:56 GMT -5
"She was wearing it at the time...they could have stolen it from somewhere else." Asger sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that but he didn't really believe it.
The girl suddenly appeared right in his field of view, staring down at him with those dark eyes of hers. The guardsman faltered for a moment, shaken by the sudden appearance and the burning in her eyes. He steadied his arms and waited for a brief moment before he fired. Instead of taking her in the arm, he got her shoulder since she was more exposed. The force of the arrow knocked her back but she had braced herself specifically and it failed to knock her from her perch. She turned her eyes to Ulfr, dark locking with gray. Her face was tight with pain but she didn't even look at the arrow as she wrapped her fingers around the shaft. She didn't make a sound as she shoved it clear through the shoulder and snapped the head of it off so she could draw it out, blood flowing freely over the tattoos visible for the first time and staining the white of her dress. She dipped her finger in her own blood, running it over her lower lip lightly and then using more of it to mark her cheeks in an eerie resemblance the the war paint her people used.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 3, 2014 0:48:36 GMT -5
The Jarl sat back in his chair, folding his fingers together and pursing his lips thoughtfully. He turned his head to regard Asger, his face twisting into a frown. “I do no trust this woman, Asger. I would not have my son be harmed because he cannot control a savage. Watch his back, if you would, my old friend. If she means to harm my son in any way, destroy her.”
Observing her, the guardsman’s face screwed up in undisguised disgust. “She must be an agent of Hel if she can feel no pain. That shot would have staggered any man, and she simply pushed the arrow through her arm like it was…” He trailed off, feeling a wave of nausea come over him. His aim faltered again before he could knock a third arrow, and it was all he could do not to vomit on the floor.
“Courage, guardsman. This is not over.” Ulfr stepped back slightly but not as a retreat, but instead instinctively moving his body in a defensive pose to ward off any attack, his senses tuned as sharp as a bowstring. “Do not let your guard down for even a moment with this one.”
This sobered Ulfr’s companions, and he swallowed down his nausea, glaring up at the Celtic woman with contempt for making him vulnerable.
“She is simply toying with us,” the guardsman in the rear said pointedly.
“Indeed,” Ulfr agreed. “If she wanted to kill us she’d have done it by now. Wound, perhaps, but not kill. Guardsmen… leave me.”
They began to protest, rebelling against the thought to leave the Jarl’s son unprotected.
Ulfr spoke all the while watching the woman in the rafters. “I have my dagger, I have my fists, she is unarmed but for a few glass jars and food stuffs. I will be fine. Get yourselves out, I would not have any more men wounded.”
“Yes, my Lord,” they complied hastily. At least there was no door to close that would shut them out from one another.
The Jarl’s son stepped into the center of the room, his mouth set into a firm line, his stormy eyes glittering. He raised his arms and pounded his hands once against his chest, then lowered them slowly. “Minx, if you wish to fight for your freedom, then do it now and let’s be done with it.”
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Post by KD on Jul 3, 2014 0:54:52 GMT -5
Fools.
If they wanted to believe she had the ability to kill them and was simply toying with them, she was fine with it. She cocked her head as the animal below her dismissed his fellow animals. When he pounded his chest, the gesture struck her as so melodramatic and foolish it actually drew a laugh of genuine amusement from her, a rich sound that echoed off the walls.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 3, 2014 1:13:23 GMT -5
Ulfr was used to playful mocking in competitions, shows of feat or skill or strength, but here he wished a standoff between enemies. He would not take this from a man and especially with a woman, but a Celt had no honor to speak of. He did not allow himself to feel slighted in the slightest. Having been disturbed from his breakfast in the manor, he wore no cape but he did unclasp his mantle, throwing it aside. He pushed the sleeves of his fine linen shirt high up his arms, exposing the muscles beneath, but only to allow himself more movement, and tugged on the lacing that closed the shirt at the color, allowing it to gape more freely.
Further attempts to make her come down at his command were useless, he had come to understand this. So he moved to the side of the store room where the beer barrels were set, and barely moved his eyes off her as be began to gain purchase to get closer to her. He was an expert climber, was unbothered by the weight of his body, and his experienced hands easily found handholds even in rough cracks. With only a few well placed steps of his feet, which were bound in soft leather this day, he gained vantage of the eaves surprisingly quickly for a man of his size. Once he was on one of the main crossbeams, he perched himself there, squatting but perfectly balanced, needing not to hold on with his hands. He did not yet go for his dagger, its long blade meant for closer quarter. For several moments the two observed one another.
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Post by KD on Jul 3, 2014 1:24:04 GMT -5
Someone the night before had asked Asger why he hadn't killed her yet and well into his cups, he had answered more candidly than he usually would have: "Because she would win. It's odd but it's true. She looks in my eyes and dares me to kill her. Would look at me that way even as her life flowed away." He would defend his friend's son in a heartbeat but a part of him didn't want her dead...he wanted her broken, he wanted to prove this odd sense of mastery she seemed to have was false.
Eira had moved back down to her original beam and while she could have thrown more jars at him, oddly enough she didn't, simply watching him silently. She was eating the rest of the cheese and bread as she did, wanting to enjoy it while she could, as it would probably be the last food she would get for a while and the last decent food she would get ever, most likely.
Fight for her freedom. What a joke. Her lips curved into a smile again but it was bitter, bitter amusement this time around. Even if she killed him, how would that gain her freedom? This land wasn't hers, she was far away from her homeland and if she killed the Jarl's son, the old man would hunt her as far as she could go. But it sounded nice and dramatic and helped him feel like man, no doubt. "You're a fool," she said quietly in his language, heavily accented but fluent.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 3, 2014 1:33:18 GMT -5
“Ah, so you can speak our language,” he chuckled, crossing his arms across his chest, still squatting and balancing as well as an acrobat. “I had a feeling you could. How did you learn, I wonder?” He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. He would not taunt her with overtly degrading words just to support his status, it was pointless. And it was a waste of breath. “Then why do you not submit to my desires? You could be treated well, you know, if only you cooperated. I could have you chained altogether.” His mirth faded. “You wounded one of my men without provocation. They would not have hurt you without my order. You have put this upon yourself.”
He let in and out a long breath, considering what to do with her now that he was level with her at last. “If you insist upon harming any of my kinsmen, then I will punish you. Obey, and I will not. It is as simple as that.”
Ulfr chuckled lightly after some pause. “Enjoying the Jarl’s good food, I see. I suppose you believe that I will starve you.” He shook his head slowly. “No, I intend to keep you healthy and as beautiful as you are now until the end of your days. Does that please you?”
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