idlehands — Roleplayer Guild

collab between Igraine, idlehands, and Roadrash

Outside the Healing House, early morning

Haakon smiled and waved off the thanks, his mail clinking softly as he shifted his weight to take a quick look to the rear. Ragnar the Younger already seemed preoccupied with his friend, and he was still wary of Harald’s men possibly skulking in the shadows.

“It isn’t a problem, really,” he assured her, quietly amused by her flustered attitude. “From what I hear, you’re more than capable of seeing to your own defence, as it is.”

Svala shrugged, letting the pack fall from her shoulders to be held easily in two hands as her eyes slid away toward Eyja for a moment. Apparently Ragnar’s man hadn’t heard about her disastrous attempt at… Something or other, with Sigrid’s spear. Svala knew very well she’d been far less the warrior that Orran had claimed and bragged in her stead, though she still kept the dead man’s axe for her own. But if nothing else, the young woman was scrupulously honest, and could not for the life of her meet the man’s honest compliment with remotely boastful words of her own.

“I have a good deal to learn. You are kind,” she said softly, her eyes returning to his face once more. “Svala. My name is Svala Svensdottir - and you’ve already met my little sister Eyja here.” Her hand found that currently-tamed head of curly red hair and ran her fingers affectionately over her hair.

The Viking met Svala’s eyes, inclining his head slightly before smiling down at her sister.

“I am Haakon Agmundrsson. It’s a pleasure to meet you when there aren’t blades drawn,” he said, his eyes twinkling briefly. “I honestly wasn’t expecting to run into anyone else out here at this time of morning. Thegn Ragnar sent us to bring Tora and the others back to the house.”

Svala smiled brightly with the lovely introduction, though almost just as quickly her brow furrowed in honest confusion as he spoke. Were she older, more experienced in the ways of this world, the words might not have left her lips. But Svala was who she was, and the words tumbled out as earnest as her genuine concern. “Take Tora? Already?” Svala had gotten a very good look at the young woman’s injuries, whether she would or no, only the night before. She had never seen the like, in all her life. “Surely Haakon, she cannot be ready to move just yet?”

But for that twinkle in his eyes, Svala could give this man the benefit of her doubt, surely. “Unless you will be carrying her, then?”

Haakon shrugged, gesturing briefly towards the door where Faolan had just entered. “Between Faolan and the other one, I’m sure we’ll manage,” he said, resting his left hand in its usual spot on the hilt of his sword.

“And besides, we have the Seidrmadr on our side. We don’t need their nailed god, and having them listening to all of his preaching won’t do them any good. It’s not like the priest can protect them with his tears and lamentations better than we can with good Danish steel.”

Raudr grinned at Eyja’s comment about the long knife before patting it and throwing his shoulders back, ”I call it Sœnskrnautr, my Fadir took it from a mighty warrior he sent to Valhalla. Ranulf is back home, with Dagny. The children have to stay close to safety. Fear not, you have me here and Haakon of course.”

He crossed his arms over his narrow chest and glanced at the warrior, trying to imitate his stance. He looked back at the little redhead, ”I’m sure if you ask Madir, she’ll let Ranulf play. Children need to play, they can’t stay cooped up.”

The boy listened to Haakon and nodded, ”The Christians know nothing about our healing or gods. Ours are better, even if the seidrmadr is an ergi.”

Svala’s jaw dropped, eyes widening as the vile words fell from Raudr’s lips, and she yanked Eyja to her quickly, as if that action alone could wipe the very sound from her ears. Though for her part? Eyja had absolutely no idea what had made Svala gasp and pull her close, but her mind had already been well made up anyway. She was definitely not sharing her real paper and ink drawing of a wolf with Raudr at all.

Haakon’s hand flashed out, cuffing Raudr soundly across the back of the head. The moment after impact he grabbed the boy by the collar, jerking him around to face the hard-eyed raider. With his other hand he pointed at the seax Raudr wore on his hip.

“Unless you feel can pit that knife against the Seidrmadr’s spear, you’d best watch your tongue, boy,” he spat, his anger evident. “Those words can earn a man a length of steel in his guts. If I don’t thrash you first. You aren’t a child anymore, Raudr. You represent my Thegn, and I’ll not have you acting like one of Harald’s low-bred thugs.”

Raudr blushed all the way to the roots of his red hair, his hand reaching up to rub briefly where Haakon had smacked him and glared at the ground, unable to look at the warrior as he admonished him. In his embarrassment, he could not look at the two girls and instead focused on the door of the healing house. Ragnar the Younger was a stubborn, proud child and the words did sink in, especially the last sentence Haakon spoke. He felt a sudden flush of shame at the comparison to Harald’s lowly men and the chance that he might have tarnished his family name.

“All the other men say it!” he countered, “I’ve even heard Ivarr say the same.”

He took a deep breath, grinding his teeth, refusing to acknowledge his fault. Indeed, it was a well known fact that to insult a man and call him feminine was to invite an honor duel. Raudr chewed the inside of his cheek, forcing back any words that might further get him into trouble.

Svala scowled, recovered from the surprise of hearing those words from the boy’s lips - and knowing full well there was neither understanding nor apology in Raudr’s words to Haakon. ”All the other men are fools then, Raudr,” she said icily, having no intention of arguing with a child, no matter who had bestowed the title of “man” on his thin shoulders at some point this past night. She would never think to smack him as Haakon had done, but only bent to place a finger beneath his chin, lifting his deep blue-eyed gaze to her own.

“Only yesterday, our seidrmadr went into that village with your father, and with Haakon and ’all the other men’ to collect supplies, fighting draugr every last step of the way,” she continued, her voice lowering just a little with each phrase, to ensure she had his attention. “The only reason Vigi isn’t here now to hear your words - or the words of ‘all the other men’ as you say - is because he volunteered to go search the draugr-infested forest for the young Jarl. As you can see, they’ve yet to return. Would you not agree, Raudr, that the seidrmadr is a very, very brave man?”

Svala stood to her full height, returning her pack to one shoulder as she put her hand about Eyja’s own. No matter she enjoyed the flash of warmth, wit, perhaps even good humor, in the warrior’s eyes moments ago, certainly no less than the night before - they had stayed too long already, and Madir would be waiting for them.

Raudr turned an even deeper shade of red when the young woman touched his face and scolded him. He looked into her eyes and listened to her, shame on his freckled face. The boy looked aside, unable to meet her gaze anymore and gave a slight nod.

“Alright,” he muttered, “I know I was wrong...it’s wrong to say such things unless I want to fight a man and I do not wish to fight the seidrmadr.”

Raudr glanced at Haakon, “Are you going to tell Fadir?”

Haakon shook his head, releasing his grip on Raudr’s collar and resuming his usual relaxed stance. “Not this time. I think we’ve reached an understanding.”

“Yes, sir,” Raudr replied, moving back into his position by the door, keeping his eyes on the ground.

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