[right][h2]Åse Ingolfsdatter[/h2][/right]
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Åse sat atop a rock that decorated the middle of the grassy field that surrounded Thetford on the seventh day since Erik’s funeral. The rock itself was as large as a cow and dark grey in color. It was perfectly smooth, having been exposed to the elements for many years and sparsely covered in lichen. The field itself was now mostly clean from the battle that had ensued a little over a week ago. She gazed out towards the tree line in the general direction of the shores which they landed on some weeks ago while her mind wandered. The young woman had a difficult time with the loss of her husband despite knowing Erik would be welcomed in both Valhalla and Fólkvangr. While out amongst the other men, she would hold face and join them in the remembrance and praise of those who were lost in battle for it was truly the greatest death any of them could ask for, but during her solitary nights, Åse would mourn his absence and often found herself weeping into old clothes while desperately trying to take in Erik’s fleeting scent. It was so incredibly lonely without him. 

After the sjaund that was to be held later that night, she would be able to claim mastery of her husband’s ship and be able to move on from this place, giving herself a new purpose. Åse had already started planning her next steps and choose a path much different from most women. With no additional property to inherit or children to raise, Åse had decided to sail west and start a new life for herself rather than trying to assimilate back into society. She heard the stories of lands so bountiful, she was willing to cross the mysterious and dangerous ocean to see if they were true.

The largest problem with her plan was that she would need a crew to help her steer her husband’s vessel and the men that used to work the ship had all left to serve other lords. Whom would she find to help her? Whom would be willing to leave everything they knew behind and journey to unknown lands with no guarantee of glory? At that moment a Raven chose to land in front of her bringing her focus to it’s shiny black feathers. As the bird pecked about the ground, Åse could see deep purple shades reflect throughout the bird's plumage, giving depth to the creature’s dark color. Her breathe caught in her chest. It was a great honor to be visited by one of Odin’s birds and as quickly as it had come, it took flight once more carrying with it the information of the world to bring back to the God.

The visit from the sacred messenger, however short it was, helped to solidify Åse’s resolve. A crew would come in time, she simply had to put out the word and wait. Nodding to herself, she pushed herself off the rock and made her way back into town. Her brown leather boots treaded with purpose through the soft green grass. She had a former brother in law to find.

Of all the buildings to have survived the sack of Thetford, the Church was the largest. It boasted a stain-glass window above the altar, the only one in the area, and villagers had come from far and wide to marvel at the purple and red colours lit by the setting sun. The long wooden benches, once filled with eager faces and earnest prayers, had been dragged off to the sides and a large fire lit on the dirt floor. The smoke was already swirling up to stain the roof beams before trickling out a hole chopped through the thatch by a Danish axe. 

The Jesus figure had been hacked from the wall and added to the blaze. The priest lay in a corner, long dried tears staining his face, blood still trickling from the corners of his mouth, hands clutching at a savage belly wound that had killed him hours before. A dozen men filled the rest of the space with their sheer bulk. Weapons had been stacked by the door in order to keep any disagreements from leading to death or serious injury. Kjartan Knudsen was the largest of them all, his broad shoulders hunched despite the heat in the room as he prodded the fire with a captured long sword. There was ale enough for all but he had touched none of it. He was lost in thought.

Money he had, a small horde, all of it still on his brothers boat. The yearning for some sort of adventure was upon him again now that his last tie to this army and island had been severed. Where would he go? Maybe back to Daneland? He wondered if Åse would come with him. He had always fancied her, she was a rare one among the Danish women who fought in Englaland. 

There were Jarls who would gladly accept his sword into their service but he was done being another mans strongman. For most of his life he had served another in one way or another. He wanted some land of his own where he owed no man anything. That left the lands of the Rus, or going West in the tracks of Erik the Red. Iceland maybe. Find a wife and settle down. It was time.

As the men inside heaved the priest’s bloody and bruised body out of the building, Åse stepped into the Christian house of worship. A strange religion, lacking in both spirituality and practicality, the young woman had no interest in it’s monotheistic teachings. She came in search of Kjartan and was told he would be there. Her blue eyes scanned the room and it wasn’t long until she recognized his bulk. She would know it anywhere. Her voice caught in her throat a moment before Åse cleared it and called out with a fairly mid tone voice. Only time would help heal the wound that was left behind after her husband’s passing.

“Kjartan!”

At the sound of her familiar voice, he turned and gave her a warm smile while reaching with his left arm to clasp forearms with her.

“Greetings Sister. What brings you here? I thought you would be helping to prepare for the sjaund later.”

“I came to speak with you.” she replied. Gesturing towards the entryway she continued. “Can we step outside?”

“Lead the way.”

Kjartan followed her outside, his foot steps heavily striking the ground as he walked and emerged in the daylight once more. The sunlight danced in Åse’s thick yellow hair that was intricately braided for the celebration. The entryway of the church lead to a courtyard, a cleared area where people likely gathered to hear the now dead priest-man speak. What filled the space now was numerous other Norsemen working diligently to prepare for the feast. 

Åse stopped to take a seat at a stone bench, blackened slightly from the battle that had ensued. She did not speak at first, seemingly distracted from the hustle of those nearby, so Kjartan broke their silence. 

“What is it you needed from me?” 

It was a few moments before Åse replied, “I’m leaving Kjartan.”

“When?” he asked quickly, slightly taken aback by her simple declaration. 

“As soon as I can gather a crew.”

“A crew? Where do you plan on sailing that is in need of a crew?

“West.”

“What, Iceland? Greenland?”

“No, farther. I don’t want to try to fit back into another colony. I want to build a new life for myself and experience new things. Something different from all of... this.” she gestured towards the scene before them. It was not so much the people, for she loved them dearly, but the constant strive for battle, glory, and wealth. Kjartan paused before speaking, absorbing the meaning of her words.

“What would you have of me?” He asked softly.

“I... wanted to know if you would want to come with me...” she replied in a similar tone.

He paused a moment, a small smirk starting to spread across his face. “You know... before you found me, I was having the same thoughts and was trying to decide how I would ask you to join me.”

She turned her head to look at him, a similar smile appearing on her face as well. “It is decided then! Now we just need to gather a crew...”

“I will help to spread the word then. See who will bite.”

“It will be nice to have a fresh start.” The young woman stated and Kjartan nodded his head in agreement. They continued to watch their people prepare for the festivities a bit longer before finally chipping in to help their brothers and sisters.

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In collaboration with [@Pagemaster]