sarka | Elíasar saga, Part 5, LotRiPS WiP

Title: Elíasar saga, or 'The Saga of Elijah', Chapter 5/?
Author: sarka
Rating: This chapter PG-13, for impending slash.
Pairings: Nothing yet, but will develop into Orlijah.
Warning: None for this chapter.
Disclaimer: 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 some very interactive footnotes. A link will take you to the note elsewhere in the document, and a link there will return you to what you were reading. Thanks to

salixbabylon for the beta.

Author's note: This chapter starts right where chapter four left off.

Part I
Part II
Part III (scroll up for a short explanation of family relationships)
Part IV

They were facing each other now, Elijah having decided to forego sleep and turning around instead to talk to the young man sharing his bed. They could barely see each other in the darkness of the shut-bed – the only things visible were the contours of their faces and the glittering of their eyes.

"I am not from the city your people call 'Mikligarður' and my people call Istanbul. The people of that city serve the Ottoman ruler, who has conquered many lands. I am one of the sons of the desert; my people are called Bedouin. For many hundreds of years we have lived where nothing grows and where the sun can burn off your skin in half a day."

Elijah barely breathed as Orlando started his story, but the young man seemed of two minds to continue, and did not say anything more for a while. Elijah rose and took the cover off the small brazier that always burned in his shut-bed, lit the oil-lamp, and sat back to look at his slave. Orlando was half-lying, half sitting among the blankets, his face turned down and mostly hidden by his dark curls, though Elijah could see that colour stained his cheeks.

"Will you tell me the rest?" he asked softly, only just stopping himself from reaching out and lifting Orlando's chin.

"I fear." Orlando said.

"What do you fear?"

"For the life I have made here, and for your esteem. For you not to believe me."

Elijah's breath hitched in his throat. "Fear not. You have my promise; there is nothing to fear."

Orlando looked up, and for a moment Elijah worried for his ability to breathe altogether, before he turned away again and started telling the rest of his story in the direction of the door. "My people have many lords but no one king, like your people. But as I am sure your people know, sometimes this means that the lords fight among themselves, and that there is no one to stop them from harming each other, or each other's households."

Elijah merely nodded, certain that Orlando must have learned at least this much from his stay in the fjord.

There was the sound of rustling and Orlando's curls danced as he shook his head without raising it from the pillow. "I must confess that my father was one of those lords – one of those who did not hesitate to attack another, in intimidation or retaliation. He was widely feared…" He trailed off and there was a short silence, before he sighed and resumed his story.

"I'm his eighth son – the second son of his third wife. My position in my father's household was therefore very low, though as soon as I was old enough and discovered that I had some talent with horses, my favour improved. The horses are the life of the desert, and the best tamers and riders are worth their weight in jewels. Had I been of a mind to, I could have used my love of horses to dethrone my more-favoured brothers. Had I been ruthless by nature, I could have been my father's heir."

He sighed again and turned a bit, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. "My mother urged me to use my abilities, to fight my way up in the family hierarchy, before my father died and made my brother Lord. Then the attack came." Orlando's knuckles were folded into the blanket, but Elijah could see the tendons on his arms standing out and knew that he was clenching his fingers, hard.

"Attack?" he whispered, when the silence had stretched between them and it seemed like Orlando did not plan to continue.

"Three other Lords banded together to bring down my father. They did not succeed. My father survived but his losses were grievous… from what I could see. They captured me as I was attempting to defend my sister's honour, and I suppose they thought it would be amusing to keep me and sell the son of a feared enemy as a slave on the street markets of Istanbul. I had seen seventeen winters, that day." He fell silent and closed his eyes.

Elijah tried to imagine himself being captured by enemies and sold into slavery at age seventeen and shuddered. The proud, defiant youth he had been would hardly have survived a week, let alone…

"How old are you now, Orlando?" Elijah whispered, staring through the darkness, surprised that in the myriad of things they discussed when they were cooped up together in hiding, this had never come up.

"This was my twenty-seventh winter. I have been a slave for almost eleven years."

Elijah breathed out and remembered all the times he'd seen Orlando be a slave – take orders, do things he did not like, let the judgement of a person of higher status take precedence – and wondered how the son of a Lord could do that. "How…"

"I was lucky. I was only sold twice, that first year. First to a slave merchant and then to a horse merchant. The latter was a rather remarkable man – you would have liked him. He bought me because he could tell I was Bedouin and he put me straight into the stables. He didn't care very much about insubordination and he did not make his slaves work themselves to the bone, anymore than he did his horses. When he died, last winter, his son sold me to your uncle. The son was nothing like the father and he never could stand me. I was surprised he didn't kill me, but he was always faint of heart. I don't suppose he had the courage to kill someone in cold blood. There were moments when I thought that he might as well have – the first few moons I was here, before Billy and Dom taught me how to behave, I was certain it was the end of me."

"Some I know would have wanted to die rather than defer to other people the way a slave must," Elijah replied when he found his voice.

"You think I have no pride for doing what I must to live?" Orlando replied, his voice strained and his face rigid.

Despite that, Elijah thought about his answer; mostly because he knew the wrong one would be disastrous. "From what I have seen, you take pride in the things you do, more than in what you are. I wish more people would do the same, actually."

The tension between them melted as if it had never been there and Orlando smiled a little as he looked at the ceiling.

"Do you hope to go back home one day?" Elijah asked in a soft voice, still laying on his side watching Orlando.

There was a widening of the latter's eyes and his breath caught in his throat. "No," he said emphatically. "I would rather be a slave in your household than a son in my father's. And…" Orlando seemed to struggle with his words and Elijah waited with bated breath for him to continue. "I have always been something that people desired," he said in the end. "And the worst people in my father's household simply took what they wanted."

He finally turned towards Elijah, meeting his eyes for a moment before Elijah turned away blushing.

+++

The tunnel between the kitchen and the stables felt close and stifled, the darkness almost alive with warmth.^[1] The day was drawing to a close, and Elijah had finished the most urgent tasks that had been waiting for his attention to turn from the wedding of his sister.

He'd acquitted himself well, this day; made an advantageous trade deal with the uplands, settled a dispute between smallholders in the next fjord, hired a new seamstress to replace his old one, who had left his household to follow Liv, and last but not least, settled the account of his brother, Karl, with Harry.

He felt he had earned a good ride, especially as he had stayed his temper during the last business transaction of the day.

Since Elijah's return, Viggo had walked softly and spoken guardedly, weighing his every action with care. At the same time, he had slyly contested Elijah's every move. Once Elijah brokered the betrothal of Liv and Harry, and promised to settle for Bernard on behalf of Karl, the latter was free to return home. He had appeared a few days later, his brows tightly knit and his shoulders hunched, looking very dangerous and put-upon.

Home life had not been easy for the moons leading up to the wedding, and toward the end Liv had started to look more luminous every time someone mentioned her impending relocation.

Now Elijah wanted to get out of the house himself, before his brother found him and spoke of things best forgotten, before his stepfather attempted to give him a lesson on his variant of diplomacy, before his mother caught him and told him stories of his father, highlighting all the ways Elijah did not compare.

He knew he had done the right thing – settling a blood debt with silver was considered incredible generosity on the part of the wronged party, and it had been. Harry was happy in his marriage, and had at first not wanted to be paid as well, until Elijah had explained to him that he refused to feel like he was selling his sister for his brother's sins. Harry had relented, but the amount paid had still been pitiful for a man of Bernard's standing.

Elijah also wanted a bath. He could only hope that the chain of events which had started at Yule had been broken, but he still felt tainted with the knowledge of what had been done and with his part in it.

He hoped Skuggi was stabled – he wanted to have a good gallop to the warm springs at the mouth of the fjord, and there was no horse so magnificent to ride at a gallop as his own. He was almost out of the tunnel when he registered voices in the stables and drew to a halt, listening.

If he hadn't been at odds with his entire family, Orlando would have been the person Elijah would have wanted to see the least. They hadn't spoken much after Orlando's revelations three nights ago, and Elijah still felt embarrassed over the night, almost a year ago now, when he'd kissed the young man against his will, intending to take what he wanted.

That didn't change the fact that he still wanted. And he didn't just want, he ached – while sharing his bed with Orlando was a perfect indulgence, something he did not want to give up, the agony of hearing the other man breathe so short a distance away, of watching him sleep, of feeling his warmth beneath their shared blankets, was becoming too much for him to handle.

He still wanted, more than he had wanted anything else, to just be with Orlando. What he failed to understand was how Orlando, as astute as he was, couldn't see that. For sure, if he realized that Elijah lay awake into the small hours of the night, wanting, yearning for something Orlando did not wish to give, he would leave his bed and never come back.

So when he got an opportunity to watch Orlando without him noticing, he tended to take it. And since it seemed like he'd stumbled onto two of the most beautiful slaves in his household having a chat about secrets, well, he couldn't resist the temptation to lean against the tunnel wall and listen in. Even if he knew eavesdropping was beneath him, as a Lord of the household.

"Come on, Orlando. Share with a friend!" Dominic said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Dom!" Orlando sounded scandalized. "What you're asking is private! I can't share it with just anybody."

"I'm not asking you to share it with anybody," Dom said, still grinning. "I'm asking you to share it with me, since I was the one you talked to when you didn't know what to do. You can hardly deprive me of the rest of the story, now, can you? That wouldn't be fair!"

Orlando seemed to be attempting to ignore the other man, turning on his stool and continuing to work on the saddle blanket he was repairing, though the colour rising in his face showed that whatever they were talking about, there was something to tell of it.

"It's obvious, anyway," Dom said smugly from where he was perched, braiding the rough rope they used to bundle the hay. "Anybody who knows anything can tell."

Orlando turned towards Dom at once and whispered, "Shut your mouth, Dominic! Don't spread my confidences through the entire household!"

Dom merely raised an eyebrow in response, and Orlando ran a hand through his hair, before going on. "Yes, I did. I told him."

"I knew it," Dom whispered, triumphant. "He's been wandering around looking like he was struck on the head with a mallet."

"And how did you know that wasn't something else, having this effect on him," Orlando whispered furiously. "I'm sure he has many concerns!"

"Oh, no, Orli boy," Dom said with glee, "you're the only concern who has that effect on his Lordship."

"Dominic!" Orlando hissed. "You do realize I know sixteen ways to disembowel a man and I haven't practiced them in a while?"

Dominic just smirked at Orlando in return, watching, as Elijah did, the blood rising in his cheeks and the stiffness in the line of his back. Elijah was feeling rather discomfited – he hadn't intended to overhear this conversation, but he could hardly step into the stables right now, blushing as he was.

Orlando bowed his head over the leather of the saddle he was mending, the darkness of the inside of the stables obscuring his face from view – though Elijah could see his glittering eyes as he lifted his head a bit to look at Dom. "You think so?" he asked softly, not meeting Dom's eyes, and therefore probably not seeing the look of pity on Dom's face.

"Orlando I know so…" he started saying, and was interrupted by a loud holler from outside.

"Dommie, yeh useless idiot! Where's that rope I needed at noon?^[2] Yeh're sittin' in here chatting, like a bunch of maidens, aren't yeh?" His stable master stood in the door and even through the darkness, Elijah could see his glower. Of course, Billy's glares had lost all their effect on Dominic years past.

While Dom gave a flippant answer to Billy and Billy, predictably, reacted with a stream of profanity, Elijah took a deep breath, composed himself, and walked the rest of the way out of the tunnel.

"While I have always admired your power of invective, Master Boyd, I believe the horse has well and truly bolted on the issue of trying to get Dominic to listen to you," he said to announce his presence, and was amused to see all three men jump. "And speaking of bolting, could you please be so kind as to ready my horse for a ride?"

+++

His thoughts were whirling as he rode away from his estate, letting an eager Skuggi determine their speed.

He would have listened longer, if not for Billy's appearance – his master of horse was notoriously intuitive and while Elijah might stoop so low as to eavesdrop, he had no desire to be caught at the practice.

But what did it mean that Orlando had confided in Dominic about their quandary? Did Dominic know of Elijah's shame? Though Dominic had seemed to find the entire thing amusing, that was not to be trusted: Dominic found everything amusing.

Deep in thought, he almost did not notice his surroundings until Skuggi slowed his canter to a trot, and he realized that they'd cleared the fjord. Langifjörður was closed off by high mountains on both sides – on the north side, they ended in steep hills, almost un-navigable, but on the south side the mountains gave way to a low peninsula, which was excellent haymaking land and belonged to Bjarnarstaðir. In a small gorge into the mountain there was a spring of warm water, and once Harry, Elijah and Craig had dammed the stream which flowed away from it, it was excellent for bathing.^[3]

There were few amenities there, though Elijah knew that most of the fjord had used the pool at some point. There was a railing to tie up horses, and a small lean-to next to the cliff, where clothes could be kept dry on rainy days.

Elijah wasn't surprised when he saw the other two horses; it was a bright day in early summer and it was the end of the day, as well. It was usual to find someone already there – though this time Elijah hoped that whoever it was wouldn't be too forthcoming with conversation. He wanted to think. He really needed to think about what he'd witnessed in the stables and try to make some sense of it. Then there was also the impending inconvenience of Þing, which had to be organized, sooner rather than later.^[4]

He was therefore deep in thought as he tied up his horse and started laying out the toiletries he'd brought with him, rolled up in his drying cloth – Elijah had gotten into the habit of cutting his beard, and no longer grew it out, not even in winter. He'd been rather amused to discover that Orlando did the same, as the habit of shaving was rare and somewhat frowned upon.^[5]

There was no one in the pool when he got to it, which made him glad. He didn't feel like sharing the water, and since the horses had looked rested, that had to mean that whoever owned them must be leaving – it was probable that they were in the lean-to, putting their clothes on – though he couldn't quite understand why they would be in there, as the day was dry and there was no need to keep one's clothes protected. Perhaps they were two maidens?

The prudent thing to do, Elijah thought as he slid into the warm water, was to let whoever was in there know that there was someone in the pool. Just in case they actually were maidens and might come out with their clothes in a disarray unless they knew there was a stranger here.

But that didn't quite fit either. There was a pile of clothes on the other side of the bushes that often served as concealment while people changed their clothes – Elijah could see it through the sparse undergrowth. So there had to be something else going on.

"Hello!" he called out, mildly concerned that no answer would be forthcoming. Then he'd have to get out of the heavenly warm water and investigate. "Is there anybody else here?"

He did, however, get an answer – a great deal of rustling and sounds coming from the lean-to, though no words. He had almost given up on waiting for them when Craig appeared, looking a little bedraggled and sheepish. He was wearing his wet smallclothes, like he'd stepped out of the pool and gone into the lean-to for some reason.

The reason appeared a few moments after Craig did – Miranda exited looking equally sheepish, her hair wet, though at least she was dressed.

A few things Elijah had been wondering about during those last few quiet weeks suddenly became clear.

"Miranda," he said. "Craig," inclining his head in their direction.

They stood silent, heads bent and a few inches apart. There was a tense silence, until Elijah couldn’t keep his chuckles silent anymore, bursting out laughing.

"I'm sorry," he said, gasping for breath. "I didn't see anything. Just… do whatever you want. I see nothing."

"But your brother," Miranda murmured.

"Certainly couldn't handle you, Miranda. You told me there was someone you wanted, back in that cave. If I'd known it was Craig, I might have come out of hiding just to help you get him. I know he has been dreaming about you since before he could grow a decent beard."

"I…" Craig started.

"Craig, you helped hide me and my slave this winter. You are as worthy of my loyalty as my half-brother, and you have done more to deserve it. I can surely help you keep a few secrets."

Miranda smiled and nodded, retreating towards her horse, leaving Craig to dress by the pool. The silence there lasted until they heard Miranda's retreating hoofbeats.

"You don't choose the easy ones, friend," Elijah said cheerfully, watching Craig blush.

"One doesn't choose a woman like Miranda. You were right, earlier, about how long I've wanted her attentions," he admitted.

"I suppose I will see you at Þing, then, your intentions being honourable?"

Craig blushed even harder at Elijah's jibe but returned it with interest. "And your intentions, Elijah? They are not the sort that will be settled at Þing, are they?"

Elijah felt the heat rise in his cheeks, but answered with equilibrium. "Be that as it may, I still must go, no matter how much I long to stay at home."

"I am glad you go, Elijah. It will mean I have a friend at my back in this matter. And now I must leave before my father wonders what has become of me. Be well, and thank you." He rose, lifting a hand in greeting.

"Be well, my friend, and a good ride home."

Once the hoofbeats of Craig's horse had faded into the distance, Elijah leaned back in the water, returning to the problem of Orlando – though he knew that he really ought to be trying to work out the arrangements for Þing. Who should come with him, who should be in charge of his house while he was gone, how much supplies they would need on their way to Þingvellir, whether he had any concerns he should bring before the legislature.

Settlements had already been made for the acts of violence that had happened that winter – which was partly the reason he was hiding at the pool to think – so he did not anticipate having to speak on his own behalf, though there was always the chance he'd have to speak for some people from the area.

He would have to pick out who was going with him soon. He anticipated that Karl would want to come along, and perhaps Viggo as well, but he needed some people who would be able to do some actual work. Since Þing was almost as much about being social as it was about the running of the country, he'd need someone good to make sure everything would go smoothly and so that he wouldn't need to overwork himself. He had a candidate in mind though.

Elijah finally felt that he'd given the matter enough considerations, and turned his mind towards more pleasant thoughts – dark eyes, smooth skin and the lovely curls of his favourite slave worked well to take his mind off the serious matters.

Go on to Part Six.

[1]Icelandic houses in the Age of Sagas (930-1030 AD) were mostly built of turf and rock. Some timbers were used to support the roofs and such and richer farms sometimes had panelled halls, but wood is scarce in Iceland and thus not widely used. Old Icelandic dwellings would therefore blend in very well with the landscape and look more like hills than houses. There is also a limit on how large a house you can build with these materials, so larger farms would generally be made out of many houses, which were connected in various ways – including with tunnels through the walls. For more – and pictures – try this link.

[2]The Icelandic day was split into 3 hour periods. 'Nón' or noon was not actually at what we today call noon, but at three o'clock in the afternoon. The other periods, called 'eykt', were: 'ótta' at 3 AM, 'miðmorgunn' – midmorning, or 'rismál' – time to get up, at 6 AM, 'dagmál' – start of day at 9 AM, 'miðdegi' – midday, or 'hádegi' – high day at 12 o'clock, 'miðaftan' – mid evening, at 6 PM, 'náttmál' – time for night at 9 PM, and 'miðnætti' – midnight, or 'lágnætti' – low night at midnight.

[3]Ah, Icelanders and their geothermal pools. There aren't a lot of warm springs in the area where I've put the fjord, but there are a few. Warm springs have been used for bathing around here for centuries – they were places to socialise and of course to bathe and do laundry. The bathing custom has continued to this day – there isn't a settlement in Iceland that is too small to warrant a swimming pool of their own... and sometimes you'll find swimming pools where there are no settlements. The custom of socializing at the swimming pool has carried over to this day, as people will meet in the hot tubs to discuss anything from the weather to politics.

[4]Iceland has the oldest functioning parliament in the word. Founded in 930, in Þingvellir, the Icelandic parliament – Alþingi – continues to frustrate the nation to this day. Back during the time the story is set, the representatives were the most powerful Lords of the country, called Goðar, who met there to decide on laws and to sit in court. Iceland wasn't quite a democracy at the time, but it wasn't a monarchy either. Basically, people ruled themselves, as long as they broke no laws. In my story, Elijah is a Goði - an office he inherited from his father. Considering the placement of Þingvellir, Elijah and his neighbors were the people who had to travel the furthest to attend Thing. (English spelling of Þing.) While at Thing, they'd stay in temporary camps (Búðir) which were erected by each lord for himself and his affiliates.

[5]Back then the easiest way to impugn someone's manhood was to imply that they couldn't grow a beard. There is a famous insult in one of the sagas which sets of a chain of bloodletting not for the faint of heart.

Go on to Part Six.

Elíasar saga, Part 5, LotRiPS WiP

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