Elíasar saga, part 3, LotRiPS WiP
Jan. 3rd, 2007 09:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sarkaTitle: Elíasar saga, or 'The Saga of Elijah', Chapter 3/?
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sarka
Rating: This chapter R, for mentions of violence and character death. And also a kiss.
Pairings: Nothing yet, but will develop into Orlijah.
Warning: Character death in this chapter. Two, actually, though one of them is relatively insignificant. No gory details, so don't worry about that, and it's not a main character.
Disclaime: If they were mine, they'd wear eyeliner at all times.
Summary: A viking AU. Elijah is the Lord of a homestead in newly pioneered Iceland around 900 AD, when his uncle comes home from a voyage bringing treasure, spices and exotic slaves.
Notes: Authors notes are made as they are required, through very interactive footnotes that were a pain to code. A link will take you to the note elsewhere in the document, and a link there will return you to what you were reading.
Author's note: I apologize most profusely for the long, long wait for this chapter. I got distracted by several things, including an exchange student program in a different country. I've had a new, more thorough beta for the entire thing, so the first two chapters have been minimally updated as well. Eternal love goes tosalixbabylon, for the aforementioned help. Now, I hope you like it; you've waited long enough!
Also, note that my story is eligible in the WiP category for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
slashy_oscars... /self-pimp.
It was pointed out to me that the family relationships of Elijah were a bit unclear, so here's the situation:
Elijah is the Lord of Skógar, the grandson of an original pioneer of Iceland. His father died when he was an infant, leaving Cate, his mother, in a precarious situation. She married the second son of a household in the Western Fjords of Iceland, Viggo - at the time he was a well respected fighter. With him she had two children; Karl and Liv, who are Elijah's half-siblings. This is an AU anyway, so I'm asking you to extend your imagination one step further and pretend they're younger than Elijah.
Sean is Elijah's uncle, brother to his father.
In addition, as was custom, Elijah was fostered at the house of an ally for a few years during his youth. Harry, son of Bernard, was fostered at the same place. Thus, Elijah has a foster father - who is NOT Viggo. Viggo is his stepfather.
I know this is confusing. I know this because I myself confused those two words and called Viggo Elijah's foster father in the first chapter - it's been corrected. I'm sorry about any confusion!
Part I
Part II
Autumn came and with it the low slanting light and long shadows that signaled a change to come in the weather. The singing of working people, cutting grass and gathering the hay resounded through the valley, every farm having reassigned all their manpower, with the exception of the kitchen staff, to work in the meadows. Even the Lords of the House went out with scythes and rakes doing their part to get the hay in before the weather intervened.
Numerous times every day people looked up to the sky, worry lines around their eyes, when they thought they’d seen a dimming of the light or felt a change in the wind – this wasn’t just the livelihood of the Lords and Ladies of the House; if there was no hay they would all starve. The sky, however, stayed resolutely blue until the end of Heyannir[1] , leaving everybody plenty of time to make their hay. The last two days were even swelteringly hot, unusual for the country and the time of year, making the distribution of water and whey to the field hands necessary.
Elijah was on his way out to the stable yard, working to prepare the haymaking feast for his laborers. They had been tireless for the past few days and certainly deserved some celebration – if only to bless Freyja[2] for the fortunate weather. He had made his way out of the stable door when he was met with a view that made his step falter.
Orlando was standing at the grindstone, whetting one of the scythes. There was a neat row on the ground next to him of blades that needed sharpening and a neat row on the other side of blades that had already had their turn. The constant low autumn sun had darkened his skin until it was almost the color of dark mead, and he had taken the opportunity to wear clothes that had to be from his home country – green colored trousers, no less, in some light material. The upper part of his costume, however, hung off a nail on the stable wall and Elijah watched the muscles in his back move as he put some pressure on the blade he was whetting.
In addition, Orlando had obviously doused himself liberally with water from the grindstone bucket to defy the heat – there were rivulets running down his smooth skin and shining droplets were shaken loose off of his dark curls every time he moved.
The steps Elijah took across the courtyard were measured and slow, apart from one slight pause when Orlando looked up and sent him a brilliant but fleeting smile before bending back over the grindstone.
*****
The shadow of the mountains finally lengthened enough that torches and fires had to be lit, even though the sun still bathed the mountaintops to the south in golden glittering light. The festivities were dwindling; some of the workers still sat around fires, but others had drifted off, generally in pairs, disappearing into the endless dusk that characterized autumn nights in Iceland. Elijah had noticed his steward slipping off with a pretty little redhead named Christine – the most accomplished weaver on the farm. He’d have to remember to see if something serious was going on – a happy steward was a good steward, and he would be more than happy to free any of his bondswomen so that his steward could take a wife.
Elijah meandered around the meadow where they’d set up trestle tables, opting to stay outside as the weather was so good. It had been a fine summer – the sort that meant that winter could do its worst and he didn’t have to be worried. His barn was full of perfectly dried hay – the moist was hard to avoid, but the dry spell these past few days had ensured that all they hay they’d gathered would be usable even until spring was upon them. The larders were bursting with dried fish, milk products, turnips bought from Norway, barrels of wheat and rye, casks of soured meat and his rafters were sagging from smoked meats and fish. His workforce had been honed to near-perfection, with the right person for every job. The sitting room was full of wool flax, to be turned into cloth over the winter months. His stables were full of some of the best horses on the Eastern coast. The good summer had allowed him to outfit the temple of the Æsir[3] more splendidly than ever.
All in all he thought he was doing rather well for his first year in control, though he knew that the weather played a large part in his success. He was feeling nothing but gratitude and contentment, walking amongst his people in the court of his estate – until he meandered almost straight over his beautiful exotic slave.
Orlando had been sitting quite far away from the crowd, staring into the embers of a dying fire in front of him, his face illuminated by the orange glow of the cinders, and Elijah felt a new feeling coiling in his belly: desire – no, lust. On sheer impulse he threw himself down onto the soft earth next to Orlando and sighed happily, like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. He wasn’t fooling Orlando though – the other man was looking at him with unfeigned surprise. Elijah ignored it and lifted himself up on one elbow to look into the embers in imitation of Orlando’s earlier stance.
He realized belatedly, though, that the slave did not dare interrupt his master’s reverie and the silence that descended while Elijah thought of something weighty to say was descending into wildly uncomfortable. Instead he finally decided to ask a noncommittal question about Orlando’s work on the farm. They exchanged a few sentences, watching the embers die out together. Finally, Orlando asked a question that seemed like it could lead to an actual conversation.
"I am told that in the coming winter there shall be no sun in the sky?"
"Oh," said Elijah, "the sky will get light, but the sun in winter does not rise high enough to shine into the valley. And it will only shine for a few hours every day, around noon."
Orlando seemed to consider the reply for a minute and then answered. "This is strange country. In summer you have no night. In winter you have no day. The wind makes the rain batter one side of the houses, leaving the other dry. There is hot water rising from the earth, and I am told that sometimes ash falls from the sky. Next you will tell me that all the birds fly backwards." He shook his head, as if all those wonders were too strange for him to even contemplate.
"I am sure that in Mikligarður[4] you have wonders that I have not even dreamed of," Elijah said softly. This produced a wan smile on Orlando’s face, but he didn’t reply and they fell silent again.
The mead, the fine day, the contentment, and the lust all seemed to melt together in Elijah’s abdomen and he felt his restlessness mounting. He knew what he wanted; he just wasn’t sure about how to get it. He felt alive and vibrant, alone in the endless dusk with this beautiful exotic man who was such a perfect object of desire – Elijah hadn’t wanted anything so much since he was but a child, pleading with Sean to take him traveling.
The air around them hummed with promise and every now and then a peal of laughter drifted down from the more densely populated fires on the rise above them. They were both sitting up now, side by side, still staring into the embers, though Elijah was so busy sneaking glances at Orlando that the beauty of the dying fire was lost on him. And then their eyes met – pretty much by accident – but Elijah lost no time in making his move, twisting around and covering Orlando’s lips with his own, twining one hand into Orlando’s silky brown curls, and Orlando froze.
There was a very awkward pause, their faces inches apart. It was Orlando who broke the tense silence, whispering, "I will do whatever pleases my Lord."
Elijah realized with a sinking feeling that he’d made an enormous mistake. Eyes downcast, he replied, also whispering. "I would not have you my slave in this. I would not want to force you." He was trying to get leverage to move back when they both froze. There was the unmistakable sound of footsteps, coming towards them. They stopped, though, before whoever it was came into sight through the darkness, and Elijah breathed out slowly, a sigh of relief that turned into a gasp of horror as he heard unmistakable sounds - a rustle of clothing and the crinkle of dry grass. The people making those sounds were close, very close, and they hardly dared breathe as they stared in the direction the sounds were coming from.
A soft moan pierced the heavy silence and Elijah felt the color rise in his cheeks at the situation. He was sitting, facing Orlando, their legs a bit tangled, his hand still in his hair, their faces barely inches from touching. Orlando seemed equally discomfited, but they both stayed still, listening as the moans grew breathier and the man’s labored breathing carried easily over the short distance separating them. Elijah felt like he was on fire wherever his body made contact with Orlando’s. His legs were tingling like they were about to burst into flame, and the hand that was still in Orlando’s hair was getting warmer – not to mention that every time Orlando breathed, his breath ghosted across Elijah’s cheek, making his eyelashes flutter and his skin prickle. His cock felt hot and heavy in his pants, and he hoped that when they finally untangled, he’d manage to hide how hard he was. The sounds were still coming, sounds of a couple pleasuring each other, outside under the cloak of darkness, moans turning into small sobs, labored breathing turning into faint grunts, pitch rising until the woman gave a low wail and after that there was mostly silence, just the sound of heavy breathing, and then finally, mercifully, the rustle of clothes being adjusted and the crinkling when they rose out of the grass.
As soon as their footsteps were out of range, Orlando and Elijah scrambled apart, heedless of decorum and dignity – Elijah felt like he didn’t have any dignity anyway, so there was at least nothing to heed in his case.
They stared at each other from a relatively safe distance and then Elijah rose slowly, words caught in his throat. "Sorry," he managed to choke out eventually.
"Please," Orlando breathed, "if you do not intend to take me… just go. Please."
Elijah turned on his heel and walked away.
After midnight, there was a burst of rainfall, the first of the autumn storms. The rain drove the last of the couples into the house and into their beds, but Orlando didn’t come back – he stayed out in the rain until daybreak, when the workday was scheduled to begin again.
Elijah was profoundly grateful for his shut-bed[5] when he finally climbed into it, lying on his back with his smallclothes open, imagining the touch of a sun-bronzed hand on himself rather than the familiar touch of his own.
*****
Orlando didn’t avoid him, but Elijah hadn’t realized that there was a worse outcome possible: Orlando watched him. Elijah would be tending to something or other on the farm and out of the corner of his eye, he would see Orlando, watching with a guarded expression. Elijah discovered that it was remarkable how Orlando managed to find chores to do in every corner of the estate, always managing to finish up whatever he was doing in order to follow Elijah to his next destination.
Elijah couldn’t understand it, but he couldn’t find the courage to confront him about it either. He had repeatedly had cause to berate his brother Karl for regarding the younger bondswomen as special entertainment for him, but Elijah had done exactly the same thing – just with a man. Which was less excusable, if possible.
Autumn wore on and rain lashed the houses, wind beat at the roofs and finally it was time for Yule and the midwinter blót[6]. It was a cold week in Mörsugur[7] when the Lords of the fjord set out for their community temple, most of the housefolk following behind, Orlando leading the horse chosen for sacrifice. Elijah would have preferred for him not to be there, but it was a fact that the beasts to be offered in sacrifice tended to smell the excitement on the air and bolt. That was the last thing they needed, as the winter seemed like it would be harsh and a successful blót to Freyr[8] would perhaps soften the wrath of the weather. There wasn’t anybody as good as Orlando in dealing with horses, so Elijah had no good choices.
Orlando, however, once he had understood what was expected of him, performed admirably and seemed for the occasion to lessen his intense scrutiny of Elijah. It wasn’t until after all the rituals were finished that disaster struck.
David, busy with many dissimilar concerns, such as attracting Liv’s attention and preening for Elijah, trying to impress upon him how good a brother-in-law he would be, had managed to spook his horse so badly that the frightened animal simply took off, galloping at full speed into the valley. Having been tasked with the chore of keeping the animals calm and relaxed throughout the ceremonies, Orlando simply shot off after it, running remarkably fast after the errant stallion. David, already red-faced from handling his horse so clumsily, had gone white with rage when Orlando had reappeared, sitting in the saddle of the stallion like a king on his throne. The slave had jumped down, lithe as a cat, and handed the reins to David, who in return had drawn his sword and raised it. Elijah had been quick enough, drawing his own blade, deflecting the killing blow, but this had only incited David further and he insisted Orlando be slain on the spot for riding his horse. Elijah refused, taking responsibility for Orlando’s conduct, eventually settling the matter with silver.
Once all that was over, Elijah couldn’t help but feel that the success of the blót was hopelessly marred, and was in heavy spirits as he and his party rode home to Skógar. They were no more than a league from home when Elijah finally noticed who was walking resolutely on his right flank.
He stared in surprise at Orlando, who seemed to notice his stare and looked up at him. "You saved my life," he said, shrugging his shoulders as if to say ‘it is in the hands of the Gods now’.
A bit baffled, Elijah replied simply, "Yes".
"It would have been easier to have me slain and yet you didn’t." Orlando seemed quite put out by this phenomenon, as if the natural order of things had been upset.
"It would have been easier. Much easier. And cheaper. But then I would have had to give in to David’s demands," Elijah replied harshly.
He half expected a reply but Orlando only shrugged his shoulders again.
*****
Elijah was woken that night by shouts and clamor in the long hall where everybody slept. Sliding the panel of his shut-bed to the side and stepping half-dressed into the hall seemed to have no effect whatsoever, and it wasn’t until he shouted for everybody to stand aside that he discovered what all the ruckus was about.
Orlando was standing, a bit wild-eyed, in his smallclothes in the middle of the hall. He was covered in blood, breathing heavily and holding an ornate bejeweled short knife in his right hand, which he’d lowered so that he was no longer standing in battle position. At his feet was a young man who Elijah recognized from the day’s festivities as one of David’s servants. The young man was quite obviously dead, and the deep gash in his neck was still oozing blood over the floor of the hall. Elijah looked back up at Orlando and realized suddenly that the knife he was holding had not come from the Skógar armory. A cold shiver ran down his spine realizing that Orlando had probably hidden this knife on him for all the months he’d been there.
It soon became patently obvious what had happened. The youth who had come to kill Orlando but had instead bled out over Elijah’s hall floor had lifted a latch in the cowhouse – he’d left it open for quick escape, Elijah supposed – and his footprints could be traced in the snow in a straight line back to Fell.
Pandemonium ensued and wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Elijah was well aware that there were those within his household who believed that the issue might be resolved in a simple and straightforward way, but Elijah wasn’t optimistic about the matter getting resolved at all if Orlando were to kill someone else in self-defense, and therefore kept him well out of sight. He managed to quietly send Billy to Keldur, for Craig, and to get Christine, now Astin, to put together a parcel of supplies for Orlando. Craig also managed to arrive and leave with Orlando almost entirely unnoticed, and Elijah blessed whatever foresight made him insist on having a tunnel between the cowhouse and the stables[9].
His brother and stepfather seemed to be suffering from mixed reactions – the indignity of sending someone to kill a member of their household inside their home warred with their dislike of Elijah’s tactics and their desire to marry Liv to David.
There was no mistaking Liv’s reaction, though. By midmorning, she had dragged Elijah into her boudoir and pleaded with tears in her eyes to not marry her to this brutal man who thought nothing of repayment in blood for the slightest insults. Elijah was well aware that there was no way he could go against Viggo’s wishes when it came to Liv’s marriage, but promised her that he would try anyway.
The body of the servant was cleaned up according to all tradition and good manners, shrouded and bound on a horse. Just before noon Elijah and Viggo left the farmyard, Elijah wearing a scarlet cloak over an ordinary tunic, riding Skuggi. Viggo was similarly attired, riding his favorite gray mare and leading the horse carrying the body.
They arrived at Fell barely an hour later to find every man in the house armed to the teeth, including both the Lord of the House, Bernard, and his heir, David. The women of the household seemed to have closed themselves off in the kitchen, and Elijah noticed on his way into the house that every door was ajar. His anger flared at every indignity, and by the time they finally had audience with the Lord of the House, he was near prepared to
call out every man able to lift a sword in the household[10].
Viggo broke the tense silence. "We have come to return something we believe belongs to you"
"Yes," Bernard countered, smiling. "We discovered him missing this morning. We are most terribly sorry – had we known he intended to seek such a revenge for his slight we would have stopped him."
Elijah stood stunned at the lie, but the more stunned at Viggo’s reaction to it.
"Oh, we were not aware of any slight on his behalf! What did that dastardly Turk of Elijah’s do this time? I swear, if he hadn’t been a gift…"
"Ah, just some careless words about a certain lady," Bernard said airily. "I believe we must both agree that we must not let such disputes between mere slaves ruin the friendship between our estates, nor the hope of something more…"
"Yes, yes, of course not. I believe that is a matter for settlement in mere days," Viggo countered.
"Of course the need to avenge slights is a powerful drive... We must always be on our guard to educate our slaves so that they do not impulsively create enmity and spread discord, don’t you agree Elijah? I would rid myself of that troublesome Turk, were I you," David said, smirking.
The sting of the insult felt almost like a physical blow to Elijah and he had to restrain himself from doing something rash and impulsive that would almost certainly get him killed – not that he was fearful of the prospect of death, but in the light of circumstances, he was rather reluctant to leave his estate to Karl.
Viggo wrapped up their meeting by exchanging platitudes with Bernard, who, in the fashion of the gracious host, saw them to the door himself.
On the way out the front tunnel, David walked behind Elijah, and just as they were exiting he whispered in his ear, "I cannot wait to marry your sister. She looks so soft… and innocent."
Elijah’s vision sparked red, and he made a vow to himself to never let Liv be married to this brute that the Fates had forced him to exchange courtesies with.
*****
The log fire was burning slowly in the long hearth, barely giving off enough light to read by – which was exactly what Sean was doing, sitting at one end of his high table.
"When I was a lad and you came upon me reading in this sort of light, you would have worried for my eyesight, Uncle," Elijah said by way of introduction, startling Sean out of his perusal of the documents.
Sean smiled and gestured for him to come closer. "What brings you to my humble abode, nephew?" he said, rolling up the calfskin he had been looking at to make room for Elijah to sit at his table.
"Death and dishonor, I’m afraid" Elijah replied once he was close enough to his uncle to speak softly. "I’ve come for counsel."
Sean did not flinch, tying up the last of the scrolls and gesturing for his estate manager to come collect them. "So, young nephew, would you like to try my horses? I doubt you will find them much to my credit, having seen that magnificent animal that serves as your steed these days, but one can always hope they have potential," he said, laying a hand on Elijah’s shoulder.
A while later, Elijah and Sean were riding out over frozen earth, away from Sean’s farm at Flatey[11] and any prying eyes that might be found within. They couldn’t go very far as Sean’s farm was on an island in the mouth of Langifjörður, but once they were out of earshot of the farm, they could speak more freely.
"So, nephew. We may look isolated but news travels fast. What is this I hear about slave skirmishes? And now you come to me with news of dishonor, asking for counsel?"
Elijah couldn’t figure out whether his uncle was concerned or simply curious, but he was surprised to discover that Sean seemed to have heard something of his troubles.
He sighed, then set about relaying the whole sorry tale to his uncle, from the very beginning. Sean listened gravely, making inquiries occasionally but otherwise letting Elijah tell his tale without interruption. During the course of his narrative, Sean’s eyebrows sank lower and lower, and Elijah needed nothing more from his visit, though he was sure that he’d be grateful for any advice and support. All he had wanted, all he had needed, was to know that he was not being unreasonable. His uncle’s reaction told him that he had a right to feel slighted and the right to revenge, and a part of him wanted to leave immediately and get to it.
"That sounds like death and dishonor indeed," Sean said, once he’d finished. "My advice to you is simple: do not hesitate and do not wait."[12]
Elijah nodded once, not taking his eyes off his uncle’s face. "Do I call him out?"
Sean considered. "I would not. To me he deserves neither honor nor consideration. A public fight would mean a public slight – it would compromise your leadership."
"Thank you for your counsel, Uncle."
Sean nodded and they rode home in companionable silence, parting at the stable stone where Elijah took his leave and left for his estate.
*****
The night Elijah had chosen to make his move was a still night in the depth of winter, moon and stars hiding behind a cover of wooly clouds. Snows had melted the day before under a heavy rain, but the ground was crusted with white crystals of ice. The clouds held the promise of rain upon which Elijah counted to cover his tracks, timing his excursion so that it fell just before rising time. He dressed sparingly, knowing that a rustle would give him away, choosing dark clothing over light but bundling a few well chosen things into his heavy cloak, tying it to Skuggi’s saddle along with his sword and his shield. His steward was left in charge of the estate and the rest of the household with the lie that he was traveling to Seyðisfjörður at dawn to collect on a debt. He knew full well that this lie would serve only till news of his actions traveled around the fjord and the neighboring communities, but he did not want any impediments in form of his half brother or stepfather, who would without a doubt disapprove of his actions and find ways to stall him.
The short spear weighed heavy in his hand as he rode to Fell. He left Skuggi waiting unfettered outside the stable door, blessing Orlando for giving him a horse that could be trusted to wait for his master, acutely aware of the fact that the beast itself had been a gift from the lord of the house whose heir he intended to murder.
The latch on the door to the cow house came down easily under his hand and Elijah stepped softly into the warm darkness inside, leaning the door closed but leaving it unlatched. He saw the curious eyes of the cows watch him walk through their territory and towards the opening at the far end of the room. The air in the corridor into the main hall was dank and close and once again Elijah doubted the intelligence of coming this way inside. Fell was laid out differently than Skógar – while going through the cowshed was the quickest and shortest way into the sleeping quarters in his own house, in Fell it was the longest way. He had reasoned that it was a more complicated way which meant he would not have to run across an unenclosed space – and besides, if anyone were to wake, they would assume him to have entered through the main door.
Elijah wound his way through the house towards the sleeping quarters, taking careful note of obstacles along the way. David slept where Elijah knew he would – in Harry’s old bed, at the front of the hall. Lords and Lordlings generally slept at the back, closer to safety if the house were to be intruded, but Harry had been a light sleeper and a good fighter – his priority had been to protect his own. Elijah crept slowly to his former bedside, barely breathing while aiming the short spear. He was aware of the stakes: if his aim was false, David would make a sound and Elijah’s life would be forfeit.
His aim was true.
His heart was beating hard as he rode away under the cover of darkness. He was a bare league away when it started to rain. Elijah allowed a small smile to break out on his face.
Go on to Part IV
[1]Old viking month name – 23rd July – 21st of August – the name literally means “busy with the hay”
[2]Freyja was one of the more popular Norse Goddesses. She was the Goddess of fertility, and was responsible for the fertility of fields and people alike. She was also the goddess of love, beauty, sex, war, death, magic, prophecies and wealth.
[3]The Æsir is the common name for the Norse pantheon.
[4]For new readers, or those who have forgotten; Mikligarður is the Icelandic name for the city of Istanbul, in Turkey.
[5]A "shut-bed" is the correct translation for the Icelandic word "lokrekkja". Not many people seem to be familiar with the word, though, so let me explain: A shut-bed is a bed which is enclosed by walls, rather than curtains. It is not a room, per se, though there might be some minimal floorspace, and possibly some personal effects inside a shut-bed. Shut-beds are only found in very wealthy homes, and only afforded to those of higher status. Elijah, as Lord of the House, should technically have the Master's bedroom, but he'd rather that his mother and stepfather sleep there, as he does not yet have a wife.
[6]A blót is a pagan sacrifice to the Norse gods.
[7]Old Icelandic for December.
[8]Freyr is a Norse fertility god, and the brother to the aforementioned Freyja. He is responsible for peace and pleasure, the rain and the shining of the sun.
[9]There will be repeated mentions of tunnels in this story, and I also mention halls, cowhouses, kitchens, etc, so I felt it would be necessary to explain the architecture of houses at the time. Mostly, houses would be built out of stone and earth, with a wooden framework. Turf was an extremely important building material, as it insulated the houses and covered the roofs. A typical house of the Icelandic viking age would encompass several "halls", which were long, rectangled rooms with an earth floor. A house could be arranged in several various ways; the halls could be side by side, one after the other or any other number of ways. Sleeping quarters are generally, though not always, above the cowhouse, as cows generate a lot of heat, and it reduces the amount of heating people had to do. The outer walls of these houses are very thick, and the walls between the "halls" would be very thick as well. Most of the time, one part of the house would not necessarily be accessible from another on the inside; people might have to go outside to get to the stables, for instance. In this case, Elijah has had a tunnel system made through most of the earth walls so that the entire house is accessible from the inside. I'll post a complete drawing of Skógar sometime.
[10]I feel like I must explain a bit here: All these facts are common indicators of expected skirmish. Generally, Viking men did not walk around fully armed during the ordinary everyday. The men being armed early therefore shows that they expect an attack. All the doors being ajar means easier flight if things come to a head, which would have forced attackers inside the house to fight their way out. The women having closed themselves off – well, that one is obvious J Not only does this mean that the men of Fell have something on their conscience, but it is also an offence to guests in and of itself. Hospitality was paramount in Viking society – guests were treated like royalty in most households – and showing that you expect trouble from your guest is extremely brash.
[11]Flatey literally means ‘flat island’
[12]Viking revenge could take years, if the slighted person was being very cautious.
Go on to Part IV
Author:
sarkaRating: This chapter R, for mentions of violence and character death. And also a kiss.
Pairings: Nothing yet, but will develop into Orlijah.
Warning: Character death in this chapter. Two, actually, though one of them is relatively insignificant. No gory details, so don't worry about that, and it's not a main character.
Disclaime: If they were mine, they'd wear eyeliner at all times.
Summary: A viking AU. Elijah is the Lord of a homestead in newly pioneered Iceland around 900 AD, when his uncle comes home from a voyage bringing treasure, spices and exotic slaves.
Notes: Authors notes are made as they are required, through very interactive footnotes that were a pain to code. A link will take you to the note elsewhere in the document, and a link there will return you to what you were reading.
Author's note: I apologize most profusely for the long, long wait for this chapter. I got distracted by several things, including an exchange student program in a different country. I've had a new, more thorough beta for the entire thing, so the first two chapters have been minimally updated as well. Eternal love goes to
salixbabylon, for the aforementioned help. Now, I hope you like it; you've waited long enough!Also, note that my story is eligible in the WiP category for the
slashy_oscars... /self-pimp. It was pointed out to me that the family relationships of Elijah were a bit unclear, so here's the situation:
Elijah is the Lord of Skógar, the grandson of an original pioneer of Iceland. His father died when he was an infant, leaving Cate, his mother, in a precarious situation. She married the second son of a household in the Western Fjords of Iceland, Viggo - at the time he was a well respected fighter. With him she had two children; Karl and Liv, who are Elijah's half-siblings. This is an AU anyway, so I'm asking you to extend your imagination one step further and pretend they're younger than Elijah.
Sean is Elijah's uncle, brother to his father.
In addition, as was custom, Elijah was fostered at the house of an ally for a few years during his youth. Harry, son of Bernard, was fostered at the same place. Thus, Elijah has a foster father - who is NOT Viggo. Viggo is his stepfather.
I know this is confusing. I know this because I myself confused those two words and called Viggo Elijah's foster father in the first chapter - it's been corrected. I'm sorry about any confusion!
Part I
Part II
Autumn came and with it the low slanting light and long shadows that signaled a change to come in the weather. The singing of working people, cutting grass and gathering the hay resounded through the valley, every farm having reassigned all their manpower, with the exception of the kitchen staff, to work in the meadows. Even the Lords of the House went out with scythes and rakes doing their part to get the hay in before the weather intervened.
Numerous times every day people looked up to the sky, worry lines around their eyes, when they thought they’d seen a dimming of the light or felt a change in the wind – this wasn’t just the livelihood of the Lords and Ladies of the House; if there was no hay they would all starve. The sky, however, stayed resolutely blue until the end of Heyannir[1] , leaving everybody plenty of time to make their hay. The last two days were even swelteringly hot, unusual for the country and the time of year, making the distribution of water and whey to the field hands necessary.
Elijah was on his way out to the stable yard, working to prepare the haymaking feast for his laborers. They had been tireless for the past few days and certainly deserved some celebration – if only to bless Freyja[2] for the fortunate weather. He had made his way out of the stable door when he was met with a view that made his step falter.
Orlando was standing at the grindstone, whetting one of the scythes. There was a neat row on the ground next to him of blades that needed sharpening and a neat row on the other side of blades that had already had their turn. The constant low autumn sun had darkened his skin until it was almost the color of dark mead, and he had taken the opportunity to wear clothes that had to be from his home country – green colored trousers, no less, in some light material. The upper part of his costume, however, hung off a nail on the stable wall and Elijah watched the muscles in his back move as he put some pressure on the blade he was whetting.
In addition, Orlando had obviously doused himself liberally with water from the grindstone bucket to defy the heat – there were rivulets running down his smooth skin and shining droplets were shaken loose off of his dark curls every time he moved.
The steps Elijah took across the courtyard were measured and slow, apart from one slight pause when Orlando looked up and sent him a brilliant but fleeting smile before bending back over the grindstone.
The shadow of the mountains finally lengthened enough that torches and fires had to be lit, even though the sun still bathed the mountaintops to the south in golden glittering light. The festivities were dwindling; some of the workers still sat around fires, but others had drifted off, generally in pairs, disappearing into the endless dusk that characterized autumn nights in Iceland. Elijah had noticed his steward slipping off with a pretty little redhead named Christine – the most accomplished weaver on the farm. He’d have to remember to see if something serious was going on – a happy steward was a good steward, and he would be more than happy to free any of his bondswomen so that his steward could take a wife.
Elijah meandered around the meadow where they’d set up trestle tables, opting to stay outside as the weather was so good. It had been a fine summer – the sort that meant that winter could do its worst and he didn’t have to be worried. His barn was full of perfectly dried hay – the moist was hard to avoid, but the dry spell these past few days had ensured that all they hay they’d gathered would be usable even until spring was upon them. The larders were bursting with dried fish, milk products, turnips bought from Norway, barrels of wheat and rye, casks of soured meat and his rafters were sagging from smoked meats and fish. His workforce had been honed to near-perfection, with the right person for every job. The sitting room was full of wool flax, to be turned into cloth over the winter months. His stables were full of some of the best horses on the Eastern coast. The good summer had allowed him to outfit the temple of the Æsir[3] more splendidly than ever.
All in all he thought he was doing rather well for his first year in control, though he knew that the weather played a large part in his success. He was feeling nothing but gratitude and contentment, walking amongst his people in the court of his estate – until he meandered almost straight over his beautiful exotic slave.
Orlando had been sitting quite far away from the crowd, staring into the embers of a dying fire in front of him, his face illuminated by the orange glow of the cinders, and Elijah felt a new feeling coiling in his belly: desire – no, lust. On sheer impulse he threw himself down onto the soft earth next to Orlando and sighed happily, like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. He wasn’t fooling Orlando though – the other man was looking at him with unfeigned surprise. Elijah ignored it and lifted himself up on one elbow to look into the embers in imitation of Orlando’s earlier stance.
He realized belatedly, though, that the slave did not dare interrupt his master’s reverie and the silence that descended while Elijah thought of something weighty to say was descending into wildly uncomfortable. Instead he finally decided to ask a noncommittal question about Orlando’s work on the farm. They exchanged a few sentences, watching the embers die out together. Finally, Orlando asked a question that seemed like it could lead to an actual conversation.
"I am told that in the coming winter there shall be no sun in the sky?"
"Oh," said Elijah, "the sky will get light, but the sun in winter does not rise high enough to shine into the valley. And it will only shine for a few hours every day, around noon."
Orlando seemed to consider the reply for a minute and then answered. "This is strange country. In summer you have no night. In winter you have no day. The wind makes the rain batter one side of the houses, leaving the other dry. There is hot water rising from the earth, and I am told that sometimes ash falls from the sky. Next you will tell me that all the birds fly backwards." He shook his head, as if all those wonders were too strange for him to even contemplate.
"I am sure that in Mikligarður[4] you have wonders that I have not even dreamed of," Elijah said softly. This produced a wan smile on Orlando’s face, but he didn’t reply and they fell silent again.
The mead, the fine day, the contentment, and the lust all seemed to melt together in Elijah’s abdomen and he felt his restlessness mounting. He knew what he wanted; he just wasn’t sure about how to get it. He felt alive and vibrant, alone in the endless dusk with this beautiful exotic man who was such a perfect object of desire – Elijah hadn’t wanted anything so much since he was but a child, pleading with Sean to take him traveling.
The air around them hummed with promise and every now and then a peal of laughter drifted down from the more densely populated fires on the rise above them. They were both sitting up now, side by side, still staring into the embers, though Elijah was so busy sneaking glances at Orlando that the beauty of the dying fire was lost on him. And then their eyes met – pretty much by accident – but Elijah lost no time in making his move, twisting around and covering Orlando’s lips with his own, twining one hand into Orlando’s silky brown curls, and Orlando froze.
There was a very awkward pause, their faces inches apart. It was Orlando who broke the tense silence, whispering, "I will do whatever pleases my Lord."
Elijah realized with a sinking feeling that he’d made an enormous mistake. Eyes downcast, he replied, also whispering. "I would not have you my slave in this. I would not want to force you." He was trying to get leverage to move back when they both froze. There was the unmistakable sound of footsteps, coming towards them. They stopped, though, before whoever it was came into sight through the darkness, and Elijah breathed out slowly, a sigh of relief that turned into a gasp of horror as he heard unmistakable sounds - a rustle of clothing and the crinkle of dry grass. The people making those sounds were close, very close, and they hardly dared breathe as they stared in the direction the sounds were coming from.
A soft moan pierced the heavy silence and Elijah felt the color rise in his cheeks at the situation. He was sitting, facing Orlando, their legs a bit tangled, his hand still in his hair, their faces barely inches from touching. Orlando seemed equally discomfited, but they both stayed still, listening as the moans grew breathier and the man’s labored breathing carried easily over the short distance separating them. Elijah felt like he was on fire wherever his body made contact with Orlando’s. His legs were tingling like they were about to burst into flame, and the hand that was still in Orlando’s hair was getting warmer – not to mention that every time Orlando breathed, his breath ghosted across Elijah’s cheek, making his eyelashes flutter and his skin prickle. His cock felt hot and heavy in his pants, and he hoped that when they finally untangled, he’d manage to hide how hard he was. The sounds were still coming, sounds of a couple pleasuring each other, outside under the cloak of darkness, moans turning into small sobs, labored breathing turning into faint grunts, pitch rising until the woman gave a low wail and after that there was mostly silence, just the sound of heavy breathing, and then finally, mercifully, the rustle of clothes being adjusted and the crinkling when they rose out of the grass.
As soon as their footsteps were out of range, Orlando and Elijah scrambled apart, heedless of decorum and dignity – Elijah felt like he didn’t have any dignity anyway, so there was at least nothing to heed in his case.
They stared at each other from a relatively safe distance and then Elijah rose slowly, words caught in his throat. "Sorry," he managed to choke out eventually.
"Please," Orlando breathed, "if you do not intend to take me… just go. Please."
Elijah turned on his heel and walked away.
After midnight, there was a burst of rainfall, the first of the autumn storms. The rain drove the last of the couples into the house and into their beds, but Orlando didn’t come back – he stayed out in the rain until daybreak, when the workday was scheduled to begin again.
Elijah was profoundly grateful for his shut-bed[5] when he finally climbed into it, lying on his back with his smallclothes open, imagining the touch of a sun-bronzed hand on himself rather than the familiar touch of his own.
Orlando didn’t avoid him, but Elijah hadn’t realized that there was a worse outcome possible: Orlando watched him. Elijah would be tending to something or other on the farm and out of the corner of his eye, he would see Orlando, watching with a guarded expression. Elijah discovered that it was remarkable how Orlando managed to find chores to do in every corner of the estate, always managing to finish up whatever he was doing in order to follow Elijah to his next destination.
Elijah couldn’t understand it, but he couldn’t find the courage to confront him about it either. He had repeatedly had cause to berate his brother Karl for regarding the younger bondswomen as special entertainment for him, but Elijah had done exactly the same thing – just with a man. Which was less excusable, if possible.
Autumn wore on and rain lashed the houses, wind beat at the roofs and finally it was time for Yule and the midwinter blót[6]. It was a cold week in Mörsugur[7] when the Lords of the fjord set out for their community temple, most of the housefolk following behind, Orlando leading the horse chosen for sacrifice. Elijah would have preferred for him not to be there, but it was a fact that the beasts to be offered in sacrifice tended to smell the excitement on the air and bolt. That was the last thing they needed, as the winter seemed like it would be harsh and a successful blót to Freyr[8] would perhaps soften the wrath of the weather. There wasn’t anybody as good as Orlando in dealing with horses, so Elijah had no good choices.
Orlando, however, once he had understood what was expected of him, performed admirably and seemed for the occasion to lessen his intense scrutiny of Elijah. It wasn’t until after all the rituals were finished that disaster struck.
David, busy with many dissimilar concerns, such as attracting Liv’s attention and preening for Elijah, trying to impress upon him how good a brother-in-law he would be, had managed to spook his horse so badly that the frightened animal simply took off, galloping at full speed into the valley. Having been tasked with the chore of keeping the animals calm and relaxed throughout the ceremonies, Orlando simply shot off after it, running remarkably fast after the errant stallion. David, already red-faced from handling his horse so clumsily, had gone white with rage when Orlando had reappeared, sitting in the saddle of the stallion like a king on his throne. The slave had jumped down, lithe as a cat, and handed the reins to David, who in return had drawn his sword and raised it. Elijah had been quick enough, drawing his own blade, deflecting the killing blow, but this had only incited David further and he insisted Orlando be slain on the spot for riding his horse. Elijah refused, taking responsibility for Orlando’s conduct, eventually settling the matter with silver.
Once all that was over, Elijah couldn’t help but feel that the success of the blót was hopelessly marred, and was in heavy spirits as he and his party rode home to Skógar. They were no more than a league from home when Elijah finally noticed who was walking resolutely on his right flank.
He stared in surprise at Orlando, who seemed to notice his stare and looked up at him. "You saved my life," he said, shrugging his shoulders as if to say ‘it is in the hands of the Gods now’.
A bit baffled, Elijah replied simply, "Yes".
"It would have been easier to have me slain and yet you didn’t." Orlando seemed quite put out by this phenomenon, as if the natural order of things had been upset.
"It would have been easier. Much easier. And cheaper. But then I would have had to give in to David’s demands," Elijah replied harshly.
He half expected a reply but Orlando only shrugged his shoulders again.
Elijah was woken that night by shouts and clamor in the long hall where everybody slept. Sliding the panel of his shut-bed to the side and stepping half-dressed into the hall seemed to have no effect whatsoever, and it wasn’t until he shouted for everybody to stand aside that he discovered what all the ruckus was about.
Orlando was standing, a bit wild-eyed, in his smallclothes in the middle of the hall. He was covered in blood, breathing heavily and holding an ornate bejeweled short knife in his right hand, which he’d lowered so that he was no longer standing in battle position. At his feet was a young man who Elijah recognized from the day’s festivities as one of David’s servants. The young man was quite obviously dead, and the deep gash in his neck was still oozing blood over the floor of the hall. Elijah looked back up at Orlando and realized suddenly that the knife he was holding had not come from the Skógar armory. A cold shiver ran down his spine realizing that Orlando had probably hidden this knife on him for all the months he’d been there.
It soon became patently obvious what had happened. The youth who had come to kill Orlando but had instead bled out over Elijah’s hall floor had lifted a latch in the cowhouse – he’d left it open for quick escape, Elijah supposed – and his footprints could be traced in the snow in a straight line back to Fell.
Pandemonium ensued and wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Elijah was well aware that there were those within his household who believed that the issue might be resolved in a simple and straightforward way, but Elijah wasn’t optimistic about the matter getting resolved at all if Orlando were to kill someone else in self-defense, and therefore kept him well out of sight. He managed to quietly send Billy to Keldur, for Craig, and to get Christine, now Astin, to put together a parcel of supplies for Orlando. Craig also managed to arrive and leave with Orlando almost entirely unnoticed, and Elijah blessed whatever foresight made him insist on having a tunnel between the cowhouse and the stables[9].
His brother and stepfather seemed to be suffering from mixed reactions – the indignity of sending someone to kill a member of their household inside their home warred with their dislike of Elijah’s tactics and their desire to marry Liv to David.
There was no mistaking Liv’s reaction, though. By midmorning, she had dragged Elijah into her boudoir and pleaded with tears in her eyes to not marry her to this brutal man who thought nothing of repayment in blood for the slightest insults. Elijah was well aware that there was no way he could go against Viggo’s wishes when it came to Liv’s marriage, but promised her that he would try anyway.
The body of the servant was cleaned up according to all tradition and good manners, shrouded and bound on a horse. Just before noon Elijah and Viggo left the farmyard, Elijah wearing a scarlet cloak over an ordinary tunic, riding Skuggi. Viggo was similarly attired, riding his favorite gray mare and leading the horse carrying the body.
They arrived at Fell barely an hour later to find every man in the house armed to the teeth, including both the Lord of the House, Bernard, and his heir, David. The women of the household seemed to have closed themselves off in the kitchen, and Elijah noticed on his way into the house that every door was ajar. His anger flared at every indignity, and by the time they finally had audience with the Lord of the House, he was near prepared to
call out every man able to lift a sword in the household[10].
Viggo broke the tense silence. "We have come to return something we believe belongs to you"
"Yes," Bernard countered, smiling. "We discovered him missing this morning. We are most terribly sorry – had we known he intended to seek such a revenge for his slight we would have stopped him."
Elijah stood stunned at the lie, but the more stunned at Viggo’s reaction to it.
"Oh, we were not aware of any slight on his behalf! What did that dastardly Turk of Elijah’s do this time? I swear, if he hadn’t been a gift…"
"Ah, just some careless words about a certain lady," Bernard said airily. "I believe we must both agree that we must not let such disputes between mere slaves ruin the friendship between our estates, nor the hope of something more…"
"Yes, yes, of course not. I believe that is a matter for settlement in mere days," Viggo countered.
"Of course the need to avenge slights is a powerful drive... We must always be on our guard to educate our slaves so that they do not impulsively create enmity and spread discord, don’t you agree Elijah? I would rid myself of that troublesome Turk, were I you," David said, smirking.
The sting of the insult felt almost like a physical blow to Elijah and he had to restrain himself from doing something rash and impulsive that would almost certainly get him killed – not that he was fearful of the prospect of death, but in the light of circumstances, he was rather reluctant to leave his estate to Karl.
Viggo wrapped up their meeting by exchanging platitudes with Bernard, who, in the fashion of the gracious host, saw them to the door himself.
On the way out the front tunnel, David walked behind Elijah, and just as they were exiting he whispered in his ear, "I cannot wait to marry your sister. She looks so soft… and innocent."
Elijah’s vision sparked red, and he made a vow to himself to never let Liv be married to this brute that the Fates had forced him to exchange courtesies with.
The log fire was burning slowly in the long hearth, barely giving off enough light to read by – which was exactly what Sean was doing, sitting at one end of his high table.
"When I was a lad and you came upon me reading in this sort of light, you would have worried for my eyesight, Uncle," Elijah said by way of introduction, startling Sean out of his perusal of the documents.
Sean smiled and gestured for him to come closer. "What brings you to my humble abode, nephew?" he said, rolling up the calfskin he had been looking at to make room for Elijah to sit at his table.
"Death and dishonor, I’m afraid" Elijah replied once he was close enough to his uncle to speak softly. "I’ve come for counsel."
Sean did not flinch, tying up the last of the scrolls and gesturing for his estate manager to come collect them. "So, young nephew, would you like to try my horses? I doubt you will find them much to my credit, having seen that magnificent animal that serves as your steed these days, but one can always hope they have potential," he said, laying a hand on Elijah’s shoulder.
A while later, Elijah and Sean were riding out over frozen earth, away from Sean’s farm at Flatey[11] and any prying eyes that might be found within. They couldn’t go very far as Sean’s farm was on an island in the mouth of Langifjörður, but once they were out of earshot of the farm, they could speak more freely.
"So, nephew. We may look isolated but news travels fast. What is this I hear about slave skirmishes? And now you come to me with news of dishonor, asking for counsel?"
Elijah couldn’t figure out whether his uncle was concerned or simply curious, but he was surprised to discover that Sean seemed to have heard something of his troubles.
He sighed, then set about relaying the whole sorry tale to his uncle, from the very beginning. Sean listened gravely, making inquiries occasionally but otherwise letting Elijah tell his tale without interruption. During the course of his narrative, Sean’s eyebrows sank lower and lower, and Elijah needed nothing more from his visit, though he was sure that he’d be grateful for any advice and support. All he had wanted, all he had needed, was to know that he was not being unreasonable. His uncle’s reaction told him that he had a right to feel slighted and the right to revenge, and a part of him wanted to leave immediately and get to it.
"That sounds like death and dishonor indeed," Sean said, once he’d finished. "My advice to you is simple: do not hesitate and do not wait."[12]
Elijah nodded once, not taking his eyes off his uncle’s face. "Do I call him out?"
Sean considered. "I would not. To me he deserves neither honor nor consideration. A public fight would mean a public slight – it would compromise your leadership."
"Thank you for your counsel, Uncle."
Sean nodded and they rode home in companionable silence, parting at the stable stone where Elijah took his leave and left for his estate.
The night Elijah had chosen to make his move was a still night in the depth of winter, moon and stars hiding behind a cover of wooly clouds. Snows had melted the day before under a heavy rain, but the ground was crusted with white crystals of ice. The clouds held the promise of rain upon which Elijah counted to cover his tracks, timing his excursion so that it fell just before rising time. He dressed sparingly, knowing that a rustle would give him away, choosing dark clothing over light but bundling a few well chosen things into his heavy cloak, tying it to Skuggi’s saddle along with his sword and his shield. His steward was left in charge of the estate and the rest of the household with the lie that he was traveling to Seyðisfjörður at dawn to collect on a debt. He knew full well that this lie would serve only till news of his actions traveled around the fjord and the neighboring communities, but he did not want any impediments in form of his half brother or stepfather, who would without a doubt disapprove of his actions and find ways to stall him.
The short spear weighed heavy in his hand as he rode to Fell. He left Skuggi waiting unfettered outside the stable door, blessing Orlando for giving him a horse that could be trusted to wait for his master, acutely aware of the fact that the beast itself had been a gift from the lord of the house whose heir he intended to murder.
The latch on the door to the cow house came down easily under his hand and Elijah stepped softly into the warm darkness inside, leaning the door closed but leaving it unlatched. He saw the curious eyes of the cows watch him walk through their territory and towards the opening at the far end of the room. The air in the corridor into the main hall was dank and close and once again Elijah doubted the intelligence of coming this way inside. Fell was laid out differently than Skógar – while going through the cowshed was the quickest and shortest way into the sleeping quarters in his own house, in Fell it was the longest way. He had reasoned that it was a more complicated way which meant he would not have to run across an unenclosed space – and besides, if anyone were to wake, they would assume him to have entered through the main door.
Elijah wound his way through the house towards the sleeping quarters, taking careful note of obstacles along the way. David slept where Elijah knew he would – in Harry’s old bed, at the front of the hall. Lords and Lordlings generally slept at the back, closer to safety if the house were to be intruded, but Harry had been a light sleeper and a good fighter – his priority had been to protect his own. Elijah crept slowly to his former bedside, barely breathing while aiming the short spear. He was aware of the stakes: if his aim was false, David would make a sound and Elijah’s life would be forfeit.
His aim was true.
His heart was beating hard as he rode away under the cover of darkness. He was a bare league away when it started to rain. Elijah allowed a small smile to break out on his face.
Go on to Part IV
[1]Old viking month name – 23rd July – 21st of August – the name literally means “busy with the hay”
[2]Freyja was one of the more popular Norse Goddesses. She was the Goddess of fertility, and was responsible for the fertility of fields and people alike. She was also the goddess of love, beauty, sex, war, death, magic, prophecies and wealth.
[3]The Æsir is the common name for the Norse pantheon.
[4]For new readers, or those who have forgotten; Mikligarður is the Icelandic name for the city of Istanbul, in Turkey.
[5]A "shut-bed" is the correct translation for the Icelandic word "lokrekkja". Not many people seem to be familiar with the word, though, so let me explain: A shut-bed is a bed which is enclosed by walls, rather than curtains. It is not a room, per se, though there might be some minimal floorspace, and possibly some personal effects inside a shut-bed. Shut-beds are only found in very wealthy homes, and only afforded to those of higher status. Elijah, as Lord of the House, should technically have the Master's bedroom, but he'd rather that his mother and stepfather sleep there, as he does not yet have a wife.
[6]A blót is a pagan sacrifice to the Norse gods.
[7]Old Icelandic for December.
[8]Freyr is a Norse fertility god, and the brother to the aforementioned Freyja. He is responsible for peace and pleasure, the rain and the shining of the sun.
[9]There will be repeated mentions of tunnels in this story, and I also mention halls, cowhouses, kitchens, etc, so I felt it would be necessary to explain the architecture of houses at the time. Mostly, houses would be built out of stone and earth, with a wooden framework. Turf was an extremely important building material, as it insulated the houses and covered the roofs. A typical house of the Icelandic viking age would encompass several "halls", which were long, rectangled rooms with an earth floor. A house could be arranged in several various ways; the halls could be side by side, one after the other or any other number of ways. Sleeping quarters are generally, though not always, above the cowhouse, as cows generate a lot of heat, and it reduces the amount of heating people had to do. The outer walls of these houses are very thick, and the walls between the "halls" would be very thick as well. Most of the time, one part of the house would not necessarily be accessible from another on the inside; people might have to go outside to get to the stables, for instance. In this case, Elijah has had a tunnel system made through most of the earth walls so that the entire house is accessible from the inside. I'll post a complete drawing of Skógar sometime.
[10]I feel like I must explain a bit here: All these facts are common indicators of expected skirmish. Generally, Viking men did not walk around fully armed during the ordinary everyday. The men being armed early therefore shows that they expect an attack. All the doors being ajar means easier flight if things come to a head, which would have forced attackers inside the house to fight their way out. The women having closed themselves off – well, that one is obvious J Not only does this mean that the men of Fell have something on their conscience, but it is also an offence to guests in and of itself. Hospitality was paramount in Viking society – guests were treated like royalty in most households – and showing that you expect trouble from your guest is extremely brash.
[11]Flatey literally means ‘flat island’
[12]Viking revenge could take years, if the slighted person was being very cautious.
Go on to Part IV
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-03 10:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-04 02:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-07 11:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-04 02:42 am (UTC).. i wonder where orlando's gone and when he'll come back?
will elijah's actions begin a war? is he a strong enough leader to handle violent conflict?
continueeee!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-04 11:06 am (UTC)And both your questions will be answered :D
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-04 02:58 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-04 11:07 am (UTC)*teases*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-04 05:30 am (UTC)I've just tonight read the three chapters of your saga,
and I must say -- amazing!
It truly is unlike anything I've read; that's not to say I haven't read historical Orlijah AU, I definitely have! One of my favorite types; but having the footnotes to clear up any misunderstanding makes the story that much better, simply because a) you really understand what's going on, and b) the fact that you would take the time to do that makes it clear you care about your stories, and makes it that much more respectable.
You're an honorable writer, and I can't wait to read more! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-04 11:21 am (UTC)Also, I was hoping that the footnotes would show that if there was something people didn't understand, they could always ask!
I'm glad you liked the entire thing, too :D Thank you for the compliments!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-04 06:59 am (UTC)Please do not stay absent for so long now.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-04 11:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-04 08:39 am (UTC)*loves*
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-04 11:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-05 06:42 am (UTC)I love your Elijah; strong and fierce yet tender-hearted and fair. I can see Elijah easily in that role. And Orlando as a horse-whisperer! What a great postion for him.
And the background altogether; for most of us it is a totally alien world for all that it is real. And the snippets of facts (I wonder whether our word 'skulking' came from 'skuggi') are fascinating.
I am totally enthralled. (I expect 'thrall' would also have an Icelandic counterpart?)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-05 12:03 pm (UTC)As for your musings, skulking comes from Norwegian 'at skulke'. Icelanders have a similar word 'skálkur', which means simply a secretive person or liar.
As for 'thrall', of COURSE it has an Icelandic counterpart, since it has an Old Norse origin. It is the word 'þræll'. And what does 'þræll' mean? Why, slave, of course!
:D
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-05 03:38 pm (UTC)Languages are fascinating (when you don't *have* to study them)!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-05 01:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-05 01:47 pm (UTC)Thanks for the comment!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-05 03:39 pm (UTC)The Orlijah relationship is so cute. ^_^
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-11 05:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-13 06:22 pm (UTC)Oh and I also friended you - an Icelandic person who writes Lotrips can't be anything else than very very cool. ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-01-22 07:18 pm (UTC)I'm in total awe and I truly cannot wait for the next installment, and I'm not going to hold onto it until I have the time to savor it next time. Next time I'm putting everything on hold UNTIL I've savored it!
*LOOOOOOVES*
Orlando has a wee bit of hero worship going on, doesn't he? *glee* Not that I blame him in the slightest, I'm in love with both of them. :)