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Post by KD on Jul 5, 2014 21:16:58 GMT -5
She nodded slowly. "Because he'd disobeyed his liege lord and touched his property to add to it. Yes, I thought it was something like that."
"No." She responded to his question about staying alive. Her voice was still thoughtful as if she'd just realized it. She'd said she wouldn't break and that had been spoken in pride but for the first time it truly sank in. It gave her a strange sense of comfort, to be so certain about it. "Better dead and unbroken than a broken slave." She thought he would have uttered that same thing had their positions been reversed but she knew the futility of pointing that out.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 5, 2014 21:26:21 GMT -5
He let out a long sigh and looked away. It seemed to be an impossible task to make this slave bend to his will. But something within him cried out that he needed to try, and not just for pride and position.
“You know I cannot just let you leave this place as a free woman… to do so…” He closed his mouth and shook his head. Why was he sympathizing with her? He narrowed his eyes, suddenly on guard. His voice changed from it’s soft tone to hardest determination… it was just like a man to throw up a barrier against those he felt weakness against
“Your magic will not work on me, enchantress. I do not know how you manage it, but I cannot feel pity for my enemy, fairly won in battle. You will not enslave me with those eyes, nor your beauty.” With that he turned and exited, slamming the door behind him in frustration. He flexed and unflexed his hands as he composed himself. The guardsmen were careful to keep their eyes away from him. He stalked away to the manor, mumbling to himself through clenched teeth regarding the distrust of women and the seduction of witches.
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Post by KD on Jul 5, 2014 21:38:46 GMT -5
Eira rolled her eyes at the door. Poor Viking men. So strong and proud and unbeatable and yet they were powerless and unmanned so easily by a woman. It couldn't POSSIBLY be a weakness on their part, so obviously it had to be evil magic. Of all things she'd observed about the men- granted it wasn't all of them -in this world, that one baffled her the most; that unerring belief that everything in life was a power struggle. It seemed an exhausting way to live to her. Someone who was better with wiles probably could have turned it to her advantage, Eira thought suddenly. It was a shame she had no such wiles. She never had. She'd watched other women tease and flirt with such graceful aplomb she had never been able to match. Everyone had their particular talents, she supposed.
She was too tired to ponder it. She ached inside and out and the wounds in her soul ran far deeper. She leaned back against the pillar.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 5, 2014 21:48:10 GMT -5
It was not long until a woman servant entered shyly to place a platter of food before her. Ulfr had ordered the kitchen to make the slave a meal and they had put care into it, sensitive to her plight. It was warm and it was wholesome. A wedge of rough wheat bread was included, and a generous skin of water. She looked about as if eyes were watching, reached into her apron, and withdrew a smaller wineskin, full of a robust fruit wine. She did not speak, only set the food onto the floor and withdrew quickly with a huge smile on her face. It was not outright rebellion, but it had felt good to treat well the slave that Ulfr did not think well of. Or was rumored to.
Ulfr himself changed his clothes, for having touched the vile stableman made him feel dirty, as if his foulness sullied him. He pulled on a leather jerkin over his fine shirt and put on leather leggings, and sturdy boots. Asger had invited him to a hunt, where they would hunt down wild boar, that very eve. Ulfr was glad for the distraction, for it would keep his mind busy from that which had haunted him during his visit with the Celtic slave. He hurried down the stairs, eager to meet Aster who awaited him in the hall. The two men walked amiably together. The Jarl was not feeling well so he would not join the glory of the hunt.
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Post by KD on Jul 5, 2014 22:01:21 GMT -5
Eira, who had eaten very little over the past few days, felt her stomach rumble at the smell of the food. She blinked, startled, when the girl handed her the wine. She smiled in startled pleasure, the first true smile anyone in the estate had seen and thanked her quietly as she left. She ate slowly with small bites, saving the water as she wasn't sure how long this goodwill, such as it was, was going to last. Slow sips of the wine helped dull the ache in her shoulder and between her legs and hazed her senses pleasantly. Even if the same girl came to collect the platter, she would have to make sure to hide the wineskin beneath the plate or something just in case. She didn't want anyone to get in trouble.
Asger had observed Brant being led out and heard the uproar. Rumors were spreading like wildfire. Brant wasn't well liked so there was some satisfied murmuring about him getting punished but there were also some who whispered that she truly had enchanted him. For his part, Asger kept his silence on the matter. If Ulfr wanted to talk about it, he would. If not, he didn't want to ruin his mood.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 5, 2014 22:17:28 GMT -5
The woman who returned gave her a smile, hiding away the wineskin. “There will be more, I promise. Be strong,” she whispered before leaving the store room, which was latched and locked for good measure behind her.
Wild boar was best hunted on foot, and the wild hounds circled about in joy as the hunting party left the manor. The men were in good spirits, eager to prove their prowess and vigor in the hunt. Ulfr said nothing of the slave nor of the stableman who had been put in the stocks that very day, therefore the party did not say a word of it. When the hounds had caught the scent, the men jogged to follow, holding their spears loose in their hands. It was hours before they return, the wild boar slung over Asger’s shoulders. The men had taken draughts from their wineskins to celebrate once the boar had been felled and were singing a rousing and bawdy song as they trekked back to the manor.
The boar was taken by waiting servants as soon as the hunting party crossed the grounds, and in celebration the boar would be roasted and feasted upon, for any opportunity to gather in the mead hall was a good one. After the hunting party were housed in the manor, the visitors given rooms for the night, they washed and stripped themselves of their bloody and dirt-stained clothes and wore clothing more appropriate for the gathering. In hours, the boar was set before them, an apple in its jaws. They feasted as long as they had room in their bellies, tipped the cups generously, then ate again when they felt inclined to do so.
Once again, Ulfr was up to the traditional challenge and drank flagon after flagon of ale and other liquors. He barely remembered the rest of the evening after he had grown too intoxicated to go on, having passed out on the table, much to Asger’s amusement, who was impressed the man kept up with him for as long as he did. Ulfr again woke to midday blearily and breakfasted in his room, unable to bear the morning light and to do much else but try to nurse the pounding headache that was slow to ease.
In the morning, the same servant returned with food for Eira, which consisted of leftovers of the wild boar, smoky and flavorful, for even two score men could not consume the entire beast. Another generous wedge of bread complemented the meal, which was matched by eggs and a bowl of cooked grain. This time there was no wine smuggled in, but a frothing flagon of milk flavored with honey. The servant dare not delay, but gave Eira a welcome smile.
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Post by KD on Jul 5, 2014 22:27:21 GMT -5
The taste of the boar brought back so many memories of hunts back at home, some of which she'd participated in.
How easy it was to forget how much the small acts of kindness mattered, in their way even more than the big ones did. After being treated like an animal for so long, those small acts of kindness were enough to bring tears of gratitude to her eyes. She only wished she had some kind of way to return it, she'd find a way somehow. A thought struck her and when the girl returned, Eira quickly told her about a simple mixture that could soothe the aftereffects of drinking too much. With all the raucous celebration she'd been hearing lately, she hoped she and the other servant girls could use that knowledge well to their advantage.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 5, 2014 22:44:17 GMT -5
When the woman returned to take the plate, increasingly looking forward to her brief visits, she thanked the Celtic woman for the recipe. She was raven-haired herself, a Briton, who once spoke broken Norse, but could not communicate well enough. Eira’s knowledge of Norse was the only way they communicate, so they came to make the brief words they exchanged meaningful. She would bring personal and thoughtful touches to the meals she served daily. Eventually, the guards at the post became familiar with her presence, and bit by bit she was allowed a few minutes more. The short conversations she had with Eira became the highlight of her day.
When Ulfr had recovered enough to leave his quarters, his headache was still present but at least it did not throb as painfully. He decided he had enough of tipping the cups for a while. He had changed into clothes meant for movement and meant to go seclude himself at his favorite place to exercise. He hopped over the small stream in his path and walked past thickets of wild blueberries and holly. From a distance, he heard a wolf howl. It’s sound coincided with the call of the hawk. He breathed in and out deeply as he trekked to his favorite climbing wall, a sheer cliff up the side of the mountain, in which the top curved to an overhang. The challenge was satisfying and once he placed his hands at the top of the overhang and pulled himself up onto the shelf above he sat down and surveyed, from his high vantage point, the Halldorr lands. Up and to the right far above him loomed the moss-kissed stones that made up the old keep, used mostly for the training and housing of the Jarl’s military force and not as a private residence. He took his lunch there, merely a hunk of bread and cheese, some dried fruit, and washed down with a skin of water. A full belly did not do well when one was exercising, but his fare was enough to reenergize his body.
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Post by KD on Jul 5, 2014 22:57:43 GMT -5
Eira couldn't particularly practice her healing trade but she never hesitated to give whatever knowledge she possessed to her whenever she had need or was curious about it. Her methods might have been different from the doctor's but her knowledge was vast and very often she had a solution that was simpler and more within the means of the servants and slaves than the doctor's methods, which were more intended for the nobility.
Eira frowned one day when she came in with a heavy bruise on her cheek and part of her mouth swollen, the result of a strike from one of the elite servants for resisting his advances. She knew salves and such that could help it but when she came to take the tray away, Eira gently laid her fingers against her cheek. The girl froze, unable to help thinking of the stories of what Eira had done to people who crossed her. But the touch of her fingers was a healer's touch, as gentle as the brush of a fern, soothing the pain away gently. By the end of the day, the swelling would have gone down and the bruise faded from black and blue to a lighter shade.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 5, 2014 23:46:40 GMT -5
This habit went on for days, and the servant woman, Brittany, healed both in body and spirit. By that time, many of the servants were secretly rooting for Eira, not that they disliked Ulfr, but prayed to their gods that Eira somehow made it through the winter alive and well.
Asger had kept his promise, working with the Jarl to bring Nords far beyond their own realm to the games. The servants were at work for days creating the massive feast, for both noblemen and noblewoman, ever hoping to catch the rich Jarl’s son’s eyes, were in attendance. The land chosen for the competition was painstakingly leveled out. The importance of weapons training led to competitions in sword fighting, spear throwing and archery. Horse fighting was another form of popular entertainment. Two stallions would be goaded into fighting each other by the sight and smell of a tethered mare. It was a brutal fight, but also thrilling to the audience.
Nobleman would gambe between one another in dice games, often much gold was both won and lost between them, at times even going so far as gambling servants away, an act in which their lords often had not a care to their welfare. There would be drinking games, the participants expected to compose and recite a verse of poetry, boosting their own reputation, with boasts of courageous and manly behavior, while disparaging their opponents with taunts of cowardly or womanly behavior. As the drinking progressed, the intensity of the ridicule, boasts, and taunts increased as the drinkers became less and less inhibited. The goal was to maintain, or even enhance, verbal skill throughout the competition without showing the effects of alcohol.
In the frigid lake’s clear waters swimming competitions, more accurately called drowning competitions; was to see who could hold his opponent underwater the longest. Wrestling games were common and friendly disputes between players could turn bloody. Women were allowed to watch these games, but never allowed to participate, for when drink and competition were involved a woman could be hurt by a man, much to the dismay of others and would be met with their noble fathers if they should be bloodied or even mortally wounded. Those who won games of feats of strength were heralded for days to come and were celebrated that very night.
Over the week that preceded the games, competitors, their wives or proud fathers, rode to the keep over a distance of leagues. All were housed within the manor, and when the swell of competitors became too great, were housed in the keep in decent quarters. Viking men young and old bled into the port town of Bjorvig.
The days of feasting were spectacular. Carts had been drawn all over the realm to add to the stores of both food and liquors, beers and ales, and wines, countless in their number. All trade was stopped the day of the games, in which all attended. It was a day of celebration, and not of labor. Servants and free men alike filed along the competition grounds, eager to see blood. Beauteous slave women were carted along by their masters, their favors sold, or as marks of their wealth and status.
Ulfr had trained extra hard those weeks before the chosen date and kept away from drink, favoring foods that would assist in his physique. He was stronger, swifter, more able for competition than before. The games he had participated in before that day paled in comparison than this. There was only one slave woman he cared to include in the games, and that was the Celtic slave. By then she was well healed, her hair sleek and shiny from the wholesome and nutritious food that had been given her, and as Ulfr had promised no other man touched her. Brant had long ago been humiliated enough to be a passive servant, paranoid that all eyes were watching him, and was more devoted to his work, and his cleanliness than ever before. The stable boys and their master could not be more pleased. Brant was lucky that Ulfr had not torn his manhood from him when he had the chance, so great had been his wrath.
Eira remained chained this entire time, though Brittany often brought water and soap and the softest towels she had access to so that Eira could wash clean her chafes from the bound iron. She had even convinced a servant to request a special ointment, smelling pungent and herbal, so that Eira did not have to deal with the terrors of infection. Ulfr allowed her to be chained to a post in view of the games, but Eira remained under observation by guardsman, who changed shifts as the hours went on. This would be her first taste of fresh air, of sunlight, in weeks.
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Post by KD on Jul 6, 2014 1:03:03 GMT -5
Eira knew of the games because Brittany had told her why there were so many people suddenly appearing. She couldn't see, but she could hear. It was a lot of noise. Truthfully, she had no idea why Ulfr was letting her out to see these games, although truthfully at first she was far more interested in the fact she was outside for the first time in weeks than anything else, her face tipped back to feel the wind and sunshine.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 6, 2014 1:12:19 GMT -5
She was bound to a post among the other foreign slaves, who looked at her curiously, as did they the others. She had been a prize won, perhaps even conquered, depending on the master.
Ulfr did rather well in the feats of strength. He was a top competitor in wrestling, easily overpowering any foe in the seconds that felt like minutes to him. Many a noblewomen feigned a swoon as he, sweaty and shirtless, pacing about as he waited for the next game. He gave barely a glance to the slave pen, but when he did, he locked eyes with Eira.
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Post by KD on Jul 6, 2014 1:27:59 GMT -5
His behest to one of the elder servants was to make her presentable but the woman had gone beyond that. They were bringing foreign slaves all over the place and she found the idea of Eira standing out to please her. Asger's opinion was to have her look as dirty and starved as possible just to show what happened to the people that stood against the Viking empire but Ulfr hadn't agreed, much to the servants' relief. The elder servant had come bustling in with Brittney earlier that day with a simple gown of white wool. On a whim, she pushed the shoulders down so the tattoos on her shoulders stood clear. The old woman had then briskly gone about patiently washing and untangling her hair. If the servants had any fears Eira would attack them by that point, it was put to rest. If Eira hadn't bitten the woman while she was yanking her hair out, she never would. As painful and irritating as it was, however, the results could not be denied. Her hair fell in a waterfall of shining curls nearly to her waist. The sunlight caught sparks of blue and red within them every time she turned her head. The woman had stood back, thinking that the prominent slave collar and bindings on the wrists and ankles ruined it but of course it had to be shown she was a slave...and whose slave she was. She stood back with her hands on her hips and smiled. "If any of these nobles have seen something like you, I'll eat my boots," she said with satisfaction as the guards came to get her.
So Eira stood and watched, finding herself reminded of the tales of Roman gladiators and their battles in the ring. She wasn't the only one. Old Audun was there, he could hardly be left out, and thought the same thing. Eira ignored the mutterings of the other slaves. She only showed any real emotion when she saw the horses, lighting up at the sight of them when they were paraded past, and having to look away in horror when she saw them put to fighting each other, absolutely repulsed by the act. If the Nords and the Celts had a solid common, it was their love for horses and Eira was no exception. They ran wild in her land, over the green fields, a few of them tamed to hand for riding and farming. The stallion she admired as it went past at that moment wasn't considered beautiful, it was a minor nobleman's who couldn't afford such fine animals like the Jarl, but she thought he was. He had the most beautiful coat. She finally looked away back to the games and ended up meeting Ulfr's eyes. She blinked, startled to find him watching her, to be looking at the slave pens at all.
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Post by Jenny on Jul 7, 2014 2:28:03 GMT -5
By midday on the day of the games, the air was uncommonly warm, the sun glaring down at the competitors and spectators. Many of those involved in the games had stripped off their shirts, gleaming with sweat, dirty from the dust that was kicked up off the ground in the main ring. Ulfr walked past the tiered and staggered planks providing seating for spectators, which had been roofed with additional planks of wood, to keep off the sun and possible rain off the nobility. Commoners were also given seating, but it was not covered, so the sun beat down upon them. He walked over to large barrels of water, the lids removed, for use by the competitors to cool down with. He filled a tin bucket with a good amount of water and dunked it over his head, washing away the sweat and grime on his body. Storm clouds heavy in the distance rumbled, sending a welcome breeze. His eyes wandered over the slaves to seek out Eira, and to his surprise she looked absolutely stunning, a far cry from the woman he had seen not weeks before. Surprise was clear on his face, his mouth slowly spreading into a charming grin. He obviously approved of her appearance.
Half of the weapon games had been concluded earlier in the day when the sun was at their backs. He had done fairly well in the archery competition but he had not been the winner. His weapon of choice was the sword, and his corded muscles strained and rippled quite pleasingly as he blocked attacks with his shield. At one point his swing was so strong against another that he completely shattered the shield that had been put up against him. Luckily, the man was not wounded badly, because the iron handle had stopped the edge of the sword from cleaving his arm in two. Ulfr had to toss the chipped blade aside to get another but by then his opponent had decided to give the point to Ulfr, quite shaken. Ulfr excelled in wrestling and quickly pinned his opponents, slamming them down to the earth, no matter if they had the advantage to begin with.
After a time the games were halted so that the spectators could have refreshments. Some stayed in their seats, others filed to the long tables set up near the rings. The storm clouds had begun to roll in and it was decided that the games would not continue until the rain passed. A spattering of rain was welcome. The slaves, most of them women but some youthful boys who had a beauty about them, were allowed to have food as well, though not so fine as was eaten by their masters. The slaves would dare not try and escape when attention was turned from them, for there was no where to run, and most were resigned to their fate, especially those who were favorites.
As the rain began to become heavier, the refreshments were covered and by then most had eaten their fill. The true feast would be that eve, when it was too dark for the games to continue. But for now, the men did not mind the rain. They simply remained shirtless as it was of no use to wear their shirts. The men had the idea that the mud churned up in the ring would be a challenge if they were to grapple again. Those that did slipped about trying to gain footing, which only added to the cheers by the crowd for their favorite.
When the rains began to fail, the horses were led out into the ring, them men walking out of it while the rain washed the rest of the muck off of their bodies. Ulfr took a seat next to the Jarl, watching as a mare in heat was tethered to one side of the ring before two stallions were led, their nostrils flaring as they caught the sent and working themselves into a frenzy, which only expert horsemasters were able to control. With a nod by the Jarl their bridles were unclipped, the stallions at opposite ends, and the horsemasters jogged off to join the others as the stallions began to dance around, attracted to the mare but wary of one another. They increasingly became agitated by each others presence, chasing one another off if the other got too close to the mare. It drove them wild and they soon began to rear up with flailing hooves and biting teeth. Although some may think it barbaric, to watch as blood began to drip down the horses’ bodies, but it was a sport rarely seen.
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Post by KD on Jul 7, 2014 2:44:26 GMT -5
She liked him better when he was fighting. He was easier on the eyes and seemed more honest when he wasn't strutting about.
Eira frowned as she saw the horses being brought in, watching with increasing unease and then horror as this 'competition' became apparent. She had to wrench her gaze away when the horses started tearing into each other, fighting back tears of rage and anguish in her. The sound of the horses' cries and the sickening crunch of bone and tearing flesh seemed to spear through her. She wished she had power over horses like Epona or the other horse gods. She wished she could reach out to the horses through sheer willpower and calm them.
When she heard people cheering, black hate pooled in the pit of her stomach. In that moment, she would have gladly seen every single person in that stadium dead.
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