Elíasar Saga, Part 6, LotRiPS WiP.

[sarka]

Title: Elíasar saga, or 'The Saga of Elijah', Chapter 6/?
Author: sarka
Rating: This chapter PG-13, for impending slash.
Pairings: Orlijah.
Warning: None for this chapter. Except maybe for the evil cliffhanger at the end.
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: I have this annoying habit of moving back and forth across the continent of Europe and it tends to somewhat disrupt my writing flow. Sorry you had to wait so long. I'll try to be quicker up with the next one, I promise. And don't scalp me for the ending of the chapter, it just happened, I swear!

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



"No, Elijah," his master of horse said, in a voice that brooked no argument. "Not this time, not me."

"But…" Elijah said, straining not to embarrass himself with his tone of voice, "Why not?"

"Look at me, sir," Billy said softly. "I am loath to admit weaknesses, but I am getting older, and the years of hard work have not helped. I would not agree to go and then do you shame. This is your second time at Thing and you must have no failures. I refuse to go and be one, sir."

They were standing in the stables at the end of day, Elijah having pulled Billy aside just before supper, hoping to convince the older man to oversee his people on their trip to Thing. He had not expected a negative answer and hardly knew how to react to one.

"But who would I ask in your stead, Billy?" he finally asked, knowing that Billy would not betray his moments of uncertainty to a living soul – he had been like a brother to him growing up and Elijah could hardly see him as old, though Billy had been a young man when Elijah was but a lad.

"I cannot take Sean away from Christine, now that they are expecting their first, and nor would I want to; he is best placed right where he is. Most of my other options are too old, certainly older than you. I need someone smart, who can keep everything together regardless of what happens, and he needs to be trustworthy, as well. I just can't think of anyone else."

Elijah let his shoulders droop, glad that he had had the foresight to pull Billy away from the hubbub of the house – at the back of the stables they were alone and Elijah's moment of disquiet went unobserved by the curious eyes that would ordinarily be watching.

Billy smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing a bit. "Might I make a suggestion?" he asked, and Elijah saw a momentary glimpse of amusement in his eyes.

"Your suggestions are always welcome," he said, though not without some wariness – if Billy was amused and showed it, it must be amusing indeed.

"What you need is a young man who is smart and intuitive and able to carry on many tasks at once. We both already know of one who fits the description – he shares your bed every night."

Elijah's mouth dropped open. "Orlando?" he said slowly. "Do you think Orlando would garner enough respect that other people would follow his orders?" His mind raced, envisioning the journey they would undertake and what it would be like.

"He already has that kind of respect, Elijah," Billy said softly. "It is not obvious right now because he does not need it, but in a task such as that he would excel."

There was a short silence while Elijah considered Billy's proposal and tried his best not to be distracted with the possibilities the suggestion might open in his personal life.

He looked up when Billy cleared his throat, and noticed that there was colour staining the other man's cheeks and he was looking away. "It might be a good idea for you to take Dommie, as well. If Orlando lacks the respect of the others, Dommie would help things go smoothly."

Elijah did his best to hide his surprise, but feared he was failing abysmally when he softly replied, "He would be away for a moon or more, Bills. Is there something wrong?"

"No, lad, no. I think it would be good for him, that is all – I am getting older and there is no good reason to keep him here when he hasn't ever been further from home than the mouth of this fjord. I can be parted from him for a spell."

"I will consider it, Billy. And I will talk the idea over with Orlando tonight. Go have your supper; I've kept you long enough. You shouldn't starve on my account."

"Talk it over with him – I doubt Orlando would say no to anything you asked of him."

With that Billy walked away towards the main hall towards supper, leaving Elijah trying not to ponder too hard on how Billy had chosen to word his last statement.

+++

"Thing?" Orlando asked uncertainly, that night in their shut-bed. "You want me to lead your company to Thing?"

"Yes," Elijah replied. He was sitting at the edge of the bed, unlacing his boots while talking – though it was a bad excuse not to meet Orlando's eyes.

"Why? I mean, why me?" There was something hard-edged and blunt in Orlando's voice, which made a shiver run down Elijah's spine.

"Because you're young enough, smart enough, and loyal enough to do it well," Elijah answered softly.

"Is this not a task that is usually reserved for younger brothers or freemen? You're not just asking me because I share your bed every night?" Orlando pressed, heedless of decorum.

"Karl has no affinity for such work and Viggo would consider it beneath him, in any case. As for freemen, most of those in my employ are craftsmen. But to be truthful, you were not my first choice," Elijah said, deciding he might as well be as blunt. "Someone else had to point out to me that a man with all the qualities I was looking for shared my blankets every night before I thought to ask you. Does that make me asking better or worse?"

Orlando had turned away, though Elijah could see his blush despite the gloom in the shut-bed. "Both," he admitted quietly.

"Will you do it, Orlando?" he asked, hoping that he had not pushed Orlando away with his bluntness.

"If you trust me."

"And would I keep you in my bed if I didn't?"

Orlando smiled faintly at Elijah's response. "Then I shall have the names of those I would want in your company for you tomorrow."

+++

Orlando had kept his word and provided Elijah with a list, which he and Sean had pored over but only minimally revised – it had been a good list. The only major change they'd done was adding Dominic's name to it, a move he had discussed with Orlando in the privacy of their shut-bed before setting out.

In the end, all the parties going to Thing from Langifjörður had decided to travel together. It made for a safer journey and created unity between them that would serve them well, come Thing. So Elijah had suddenly found himself on the road with what seemed like half the people in the fjord. Harry and Liv had both decided to go, though Elijah attributed that decision more to Liv's desire to get out of the fjord than any political aspirations on Harry's part. Miranda and her father were there; Björn was one of Elijah's advisors at Thing and thus had to go and Miranda would be hoping for a certain chain of events to play out. Ian and Craig were both there, as well: Ian as Elijah's second advisor and Craig as his grandfather's helper, though Elijah knew that he probably wouldn't be there if it wasn't for his relationship with Miranda. Viggo and Karl were there as well, though Elijah had noticed that most people cut a wide berth around them. His half-brother seemed ill tolerated by the rest of the travellers.

And Orlando was there. Riding at the front with Dominic, he was an impressive figure at the head of the column of riders. Elijah had made certain that Orlando had appropriate clothes for the occasion and he couldn't help thinking that with his regal bearing, he looked more the part of a lord than Elijah himself. But then again, Orlando was a lord, wasn't he?

They had been riding for twelve days, that night, and they had a day's ride yet to go before reaching Thingvellir.^[1] So far the trip had gone without a hitch. Elijah seemed to have a well-chosen person for every space on his entourage and he had to give credit to Orlando, who had clearly thought this out well, despite being unfamiliar with both customs and terrain.

Every night, their camp had been set up with practiced ease that belied intense preparation. Billy had been right – Orlando excelled as a taskmaster. And it was noticeable enough to garner praise from other travellers they had met on the road, gaining them respect and reputation that would work to their advantage.

Elijah couldn't have asked for anything more from his bondsman. That didn't stop him from wanting to ask.

He had no claim on Orlando, he reminded himself miserably, looking from beneath lowered lashes over to where he knew Orlando was sitting, close to the fire. He was sitting, elbows on his knees, looking down at Dominic who was lying on the ground next to him, warming his toes. Dominic was saying something but Orlando seemed distracted – and then he looked up and their eyes met.

There was a flutter somewhere beneath Elijah's breastbone and he struggled to keep his countenance even, though he felt heat rise in his cheeks. There was a stirring of something in Orlando's eyes, something Elijah didn't dare name. Their gazes held for what seemed like eternity before Elijah finally looked down – and found himself looking into Dominic's eyes instead. There was a small smile playing across Dom's features and he looked away from Elijah, up at Orlando, and then back at Elijah again, his smirk widening slightly.

Rattled, Elijah got up on shaky legs and retired to his tent. He had no claim, he told himself again, as sternly as he could manage – but the knowledge that Orlando would most likely join him in his pallet later on wasn't helping him cool his desire.

+++

They reached Thingvellir in late afternoon the next day after a rather miserable ride in torrential rain. Everyone was bundled up in cloaks to the best of their ability but the heavy vaðmál^[2] had been soaked through several hours ago.

Everyone felt better once their tents had been set up and their fireplaces lit. Once their lodgings were warm, one could almost see the steam rising from the people as their clothes dried.

There were already several tents set up in the area, smoke rising from more than three dozen campfires. The shouts of peddlers selling their wares echoed through the rain. Their party had made excellent time on the road and was a full day ahead of schedule, so Elijah did not mind his bondsmen slipping away for a night of revelry at the nearest ale-tent.

He did mind though, when he noticed Orlando and Dominic slip away into the rain. A cold weight settled into his gut and would not let up. He was still looking in the direction they had gone when Craig and Harry found him and near as well carried him to an ale-tent where they plied him with drink and food and funny stories of Harry's travels.

When they finally stumbled home around ótta^[3], Elijah half expected to find Orlando already sleeping beneath his blankets, but his pallet was empty, the blankets neatly folded. He felt jealousy coiling and tightening in his stomach and for a moment he felt as if he couldn't breathe with it. He lay in his bed, staring up at the roof of the tent, thinking dark thoughts and hoping that Orlando would return.

He woke up with a start the next morning, feeling as if he could neither breathe nor move. A closer inspection of his surroundings revealed that his shortness of breath was due to the air inside the tent being close to unbearable temperatures – the sun had to be shining outside. It took him a longer time to realize why he could not move, and once understanding hit him he abruptly ceased all efforts to free himself from his constraint.

There was a sun-bronzed arm thrown across his chest and a lovely long leg folded across his thighs. Despite his mind being rather murky it didn't take a wise man to trace both limbs to their source; Elijah turned his head slightly and looked in bleary astonishment at Orlando. Whose head was resting in the crook of Elijah's neck and whose body was flush up against his own.

They had shared their blankets, true, but not in this way. So far, Orlando had just been a warmth, a presence in his bed every night. They had lain side by side, not shy about touching but not revelling in it either. And now Orlando was wrapped around him as if he wanted to crawl into his skin and Elijah couldn't help it; he just lay there and enjoyed the feeling of Orlando, breathing against him, the steady thump of his heart against Elijah's arm.

At some point they had thrown the blankets off due to the heat, so Elijah had an unobstructed view of a large expanse of golden skin, and plenty of time to contemplate it. Orlando had stripped down to his breeches and foregone the usual light nightshirt. In addition, the breeches had hiked up to the tops of his thighs sometime during the night, leaving Elijah with a tantalizing glimpse of the smooth – and undoubtedly soft – skin. It was just as well that Orlando was pinning both his arms; the temptation to touch was nearly overwhelming.

There was a change in the cadence of Orlando's breath and Elijah felt him tense. His eyes blinked open and his breath caught in his throat when he met Elijah's eyes.

"Oh," he said softly. "It's you. For a moment there I thought I'd fallen asleep with Dominic. Thank the Gods."

Elijah couldn't help himself. "Why?"

"Billy would flay me alive. And… other reasons," he said, looking away from Elijah and starting to detangle their limbs.

Elijah longed to ask what other reasons there were, but stayed his tongue. He might not get the answer he would like; better to enjoy what he had than to lose it altogether. So instead they got dressed in uneasy silence and departed for their separate chores.

+++

There was a great deal to be said for good weather, Elijah decided. After three days of recounting the laws, the official Thing had finally begun and was going very well so far, mostly because when the weather was this gorgeous, people felt more at ease with the world and more inclined to let grudges go. So far three major cases had been settled with neither bloodshed nor execution orders and the islet reserved as a duel location had gone unused.

Thing was also going very well for Elijah himself – he and Harry had been praised for their equanimity in solving the differences between their houses and he had been sought out as a legal advisor no less than twice. Elijah had no doubts that if Liv had remained unmarried, she would have been besieged by suitors, as he was himself. As it was, some lords present seemed to consider his half-brother as a match for their daughters and Elijah was starting to feel a selfish desire to broker a marriage for his younger brother in some remote cove just to get him out of the fjord where he could wreak some trouble still.

Personally, though, matters were not going anywhere. Orlando still slept in his bed but apart from that first morning, they simply lay side by side. The kindness of the weather gods brought about a relaxation in dress and most hardworking men did not hesitate to discard their kaftans, Orlando included. He had caught Elijah staring, one day, and given him a slow smile, leaving him more determined to get over his attraction than ever – he did not want to lose the trust that Orlando was beginning to show him.

And while Orlando made it a hard challenge to hold on to his honour, Viggo and Karl made it harder still. While Elijah toyed with the thought of marrying his half-brother off whether he liked it or not, he wanted to stay on good terms with Karl. His stepfather and half-brother, however, made that very difficult; time and time again, Elijah tried to encourage Karl to look at other prospects than Miranda, knowing as he did that pursuing her was futile, but his kinsmen would not listen. Indeed, Viggo complained that Elijah was not supportive enough of his brother's interests and Karl just glowered at him whenever their eyes met.

It wasn't that Elijah didn't want what was best for his brother – he just didn't agree that Miranda was his best option. What Karl needed, in his honest opinion, was to get out from beneath his father's heel, something he would best accomplish by marrying someone from the other side of the country. He was even certain that with the right family and the right person, Karl could become someone he could value as a brother and an ally. He'd need a wife who was gentle, someone he could protect, someone to bring out the best in him and find again the young boy that Elijah had known before his father's expectations had started grinding him down.

As it was, attempting to keep everything from falling apart was wearying, and he was more grateful than ever that he did not have to worry at all about running his camp. Between entertaining an endless parade of guests and seekers of favour, taking on chieftainship for two more farms in his area, consulting with Harry and Craig on how best to achieve a favourable result for Craig and Miranda, sitting on the quarter court and in Thing and attempting not to daydream of Orlando, Elijah was getting more and more exhausted at the end of each day.

The feast had been planned from the beginning, back when Elijah had not expected his party to garner such popular favour. The invitations had been issued on the first day of Thing and could not be taken back, even if all that the host wanted to do that night was to slip into his pallet with a certain young man who was currently walking around with a large tray of ale jugs, depositing them in front of guests who had finished their drinks.

From the look of Orlando, doing such a mundane task, nobody would guess that he was the man in control of the feast and that he was the head of the entire contingent of Skógar. Elijah could see the sense in it, though – out on the floor of Skógabúð, Orlando would have a clear view of any and all developments and be able to deal with them quickly.

Elijah turned his attention back to the conversation at his table when Orlando ducked out of the back entrance of the tent with an empty tray in his hands. He was listening to Rhys-Davies speak about court politics in Niðarós when he saw something that caught his attention out of the corner of his eye; someone creeping out of the same back entrance that Orlando had used only moments earlier.

He tried to tell himself that it was probably nothing and that there were probably people out there anyway but a quick survey of the room discovered most of his servants present and accounted for at their various jobs. The roasting pit was out front and a different entrance was used for men who wished to relieve themselves.

Unable to shake his feeling that something was off, Elijah made his apologies at the table and stalked toward the back entrance, lifting the doorflap only to find a man who was clearly in good spirits advancing on Orlando, who was backing away, holding the enormous tray in front of him like a shield – though Elijah noticed that while one hand held it, the other was creeping slowly towards his belt, where Elijah knew Orlando concealed a dagger. Slaves were not permitted arms but Elijah had pointedly ignored the bejewelled knife, knowing that Orlando had enemies within the household and fearing that sleeping in the lord's bed might aggravate any such tensions.

He was grateful that he had arrived before Orlando felt forced to use the knife, though, and stepped between the two men, glaring at the stranger.

"What goes on here? Orlando, please see to the drinks inside," he said, and was grateful when Orlando took the hint and fled back into the tent. He turned back towards the guest, who had narrowed his eyes but did not seem intent on commenting. Nodding his greeting, Elijah simply ducked back inside, hoping that nothing more would come of it. He snagged a flagon of mead off a passing servant and drank deep, hoping to lose his anxiety in the drink. He walked back up to his table to be seated but for the remainder of the night he kept a closer eye on Orlando than before, meeting his eyes unabashedly a few times when Orlando turned to look towards the raised dais where Elijah was seated.

He seemed to do that a lot, but Elijah put that observation down to copious drink and did not ponder it much.

Orlando thanked him for the rescue the next morning, between bringing Elijah something to drink and washing his forehead in cold water to help him recover from his headache. Elijah took his gratitude for what it was, knowing what he did about Orlando's troubled past, and thanked the gods that despite his own indiscretions, Orlando had forgiven him.

+++

Sunday brought a duty that he did not actually resent. He, Harry, and Craig set out in midafternoon. They were all wearing coloured clothes and were ahorse, despite their destination being only a few steps away from Elijah's large tent. Craig looked nervous but splendid, having been meticulously outfitted for this by Elijah and Harry both.

Once they arrived at the tent of Miranda and her father, they formally bade entrance and were formally admitted. Elijah and Harry, both there for the moral support as well as the material support to make Craig a more appealing choice for Miranda's hand, were present as Craig was granted audience with Björn and listened to his well-rehearsed speech. Elijah was willing to bet that the reason for the twitching curtains at the back of the hall was that Miranda was there, listening, but he could not be sure until her father called for her.

The day seemed brighter when they emerged, not in the least because of Craig's radiant smile. Elijah and Harry slapped his back and congratulated him all the way to the nearest ale-tent where they celebrated his impending marriage amongst the three of them.

If the day had been bright that morning, Elijah could almost feel the rain clouds gathering as he stepped into his tent. Karl and Viggo were waiting for him, sitting at one of the trestle tables that were habitually set up during the day. Viggo rose as he approached but Karl didn't, staring sullenly at the table with his lips set in a straight line.

"Stepson," Viggo started, "I heard that Craig and Miranda are to be engaged."

"They are," Elijah said tightly, calling a servant for a flagon of water before settling down at the table.

"I also heard that you named Craig your vassal and ally," Viggo added.

"I did," he replied. He did not feel like mincing words, and since he was certain he knew where this conversation would go, he might as well get yelled at right away.

"Elijah," Viggo said darkly, "have you no concerns for the interests of your brother? Miranda should be his, by rights. She would be, if you supported him. Are you so bereft of honour that you forget your family…"

"Do not insult my honour," Elijah snarled, startling Viggo and every workman inside the tent. "You do not know my honour, nor what I may do to preserve it."

"You do not choose to side with your family!" Viggo said angrily. "I should think that was telling enough!"

Elijah sighed. "I have told you that Miranda would not accept Karl. I knew her heart but would not betray it to you. I have tried to preserve my honour by my bondsmen and my kinsmen. There are families all over Iceland willing to accept Karl as their son, but you would choose the one that wouldn't. Does that make me bereft of honour? Karl could still marry well and become a valued ally and the head of a household."

Karl looked up at that, as if he wanted to be in on any discussion about himself and his future, but Viggo bristled and stood up sharply, dragging his son with him out of the tent.

Elijah sighed dejectedly. There had been no easy way to do this, to choose. He let his thoughts wander to the engagement party scheduled that night, and then to more pleasurable things as he watched Orlando at the back of the large tent, letting down the partitions for their sleeping space, enclosing the small room where their pallet would be set out.

Orlando, sensing that he was being watched, turned around and met Elijah's eyes. Their gaze held for several moments before Elijah looked away, blushing. When he composed himself and looked up again, however, Orlando was still looking at him and his breath caught in his throat. Orlando was beautiful, with all his tanned skin and unruly curls, and the dark eyes that stared at him seemed promising – though of what, Elijah could not tell.

Orlando seemed to be more comfortable with his master lately. Their eyes would catch across crowded spaces and they would communicate something in those gazes – usually amusement or exhaustion – that would go unnoticed by the people surrounding them. Ever since he'd woken with Orlando wrapped around him, Elijah couldn't help wondering what else other than smooth limbs and golden skin he was hiding under his clothes, and these ponderings had proven most distracting.

In addition, between Dom, who was being his usual friendly self, and the stranger at Elijah's feast, he couldn't help but be reminded that he wasn't the only one who saw Orlando's beauty and was attracted by it. He could only hope that if Orlando found someone to trust with his heart, Elijah would not learn of it until he was able to bear the information.

+++

One could grow weary of parties, Elijah thought that night. He was in the tent set up by Miranda and her father, celebrating the engagement of two of his closest friends, but while Elijah did not begrudge them their happiness, he felt rather alone; Liv and Harry had departed early, and Craig and Miranda were inseparable. Elijah sat at the high table, merely waiting for such a time as when it would be polite for him to depart, whiling away the hours by discussing farm prospects with Ian.

It was past midnight when Elijah politely bade goodbye and ducked beneath the flap of the festive tent to make his way back to his own. The summer air was clear and still and he took a deep breath and stopped to take in the beauty of Thingvellir.

He didn't notice Dom until he was standing next to him, waiting somewhat impatiently to be acknowledged.

"Dom?"

Dom cleared his throat and fiddled with the clasp of his cloak. "Um, sir. May I speak with you? In private?"

Elijah was of half a mind to ask Dom to wait until the morning, but on the other hand he'd rarely ever seen Dom so ill at ease. His curiosity was piqued and it overrode his tiredness. "Certainly, Dominic. Walk with me?"

They walked in silence for a while, until it was certain that they were out of earshot of any strangers. Dom seemed to be thinking about something, hard, and Elijah's curiosity was growing with every step.

"I fear you will think me impudent, sir," Dom started after a while, looking up and meeting Elijah's eyes, "But I hope that our friendship allows me to say more than an ordinary slave in your household might."

They had been better friends back when they were boys – back before either of them had really thought about want and desire and were just playing with lust and pleasure of the flesh for the first time. Before Elijah had learned for the first time the pain of wanting but not being wanted back. Then there had been discord and tears and Elijah had kept Dom in his household for Billy's sake for a long time, while all he wanted was to send the youth away. The enmity had faded, though, and Elijah had learned to value Dom's friendship. So he nodded and made a “go on” motion with his hand. He was surprised when Dom caught his shoulder and stopped their walk.

"It is about Orlando," Dom started, and Elijah's breath caught in his throat. "I've seen the way you look at him and I've seen the way he looks at you, Elijah. But I do not think you're really seeing each other and I can't stand idly by any longer and not attempt to make both of you happy."

"Dominic," Elijah said warily.

"I know you well and he is my best friend," Dom went on. "I know you've wanted him since you first saw him. You should…"

"Dom, I cannot," Elijah interjected. "Only a man without honour would take another unwilling. I made a mistake last summer, which I regret more than anything, and I will not repeat it." He turned away from Dominic, knowing that he could not keep the longing off his face, knowing that he sounded desperate.

"It would only be a mistake if Orlando were unwilling, Elijah," Dom said softly. Heart beating faster, Elijah whirled around to look at Dom. His friend smiled and went on. "Things change, sir. He is yours, if you'll have him."

"You… you know this?" Elijah whispered.

"Yes, I do. He thinks you no longer want him, but I know you well. You've rarely wanted anyone so much." Elijah barely heard the latter part of Dom's statement, much less wondered at how accurate it really was. His blood was rushing through his body, his heartbeat thundering in his ears and he turned towards his camp almost in a daze.

"Elijah," Dom said from behind him, laughter in his voice, "you should find him making your bed."

With that, he was off, running flat-out, as fast as he could, towards his camp and Orlando – who hopefully was where Dom had said he would be, so that Elijah would not have to search for him.

His tent wasn't lit, except for a slight glow through the curtains at the back behind which Elijah slept. The glow turned out to come from a sole lamp which Orlando had laid down on the ground next to their pallet while he knelt to make the bed.

Elijah stopped just inside the curtains, breathless from running and suddenly aware that he did not know what to say to Orlando, who looked up in surprise at his abrupt arrival.

"I, er…" Elijah hesitated, knowing that it hardly befitted his dignity as a lord to be so lost for words, but thinking that his dignity was long since forfeit where it came to Orlando anyway. "I just spoke with Dom," he finally said.

It took only a moment for Orlando to understand Elijah's true meaning and his eyes widened. "Well, Dom says so many things…" he started, but the colour rising in his cheeks belied his words.

"Was it true?" Elijah whispered, meeting Orlando's eyes. "What he told me – was it true?"

Orlando broke their gaze to look down at his hands, his cheekbones slowly turning a dull red. "I…" he whispered." Yes. It was true." He pushed himself up from the ground, still not looking at Elijah. "I apologize, my Lord. I will find some other place to…"

He got no further, as Elijah crossed the space between them and took Orlando's face between his hands, forcing him to meet his eyes. Orlando's words seemed to stutter and die in his throat as he stared at Elijah, reading other things in his eyes than those he had expected.

"You are not unwilling, then?" Elijah unnecessarily asked before closing the last remaining distance between them and covering Orlando's mouth with his own.

There was a moment where Elijah was standing there, pressed flush against Orlando, his hands in Orlando's hair, the taste of Orlando heady on his lips. And then Orlando suddenly wrapped his arms around Elijah and opened his lips to deepen the kiss, letting out a soft, breathy sound as Elijah kissed him with all the longing of a desire denied for a year.

Then there was an explosion of noise and someone at the front of the tent made quite a commotion, wrestling with the tent-flap, all the while calling out: "My Lord! My Lord Elijah! Come quickly!"

They heard running footsteps approaching the back of the tent and Elijah could barely let Orlando go with a last chaste kiss before the partition was lifted. Dom was standing there, pale as a ghost, hair sticking in all directions.

"My Lord," he panted, "your brother Karl has attempted to slay Craig of Keldur."

---

[1]Thingvellir – Þingvellir, in the Icelandic spelling – was the location chosen for the common Icelandic legislature upon its foundation. It is in the southwest of Iceland, though close to most major roads at the time. Elijah's party, however, would have been one of the ones travelling the furthest to attend, as I've situated his homestead literally on the opposite side of the country. Today, Thingvellir are a national monument, a popular tourist location and an amazing geological site.

[2]Vaðmál was the main Icelandic product for export for centuries. It is a heavy woven wool fabric, superbly warm and itches like nothing else. It would have been used for outer layers of clothing. The mysterious 'ð' letter is pronounced like a voiced 'th' – such as in 'this', 'that', or 'there'. The other mysterious Icelandic letter, 'þ', is also a 'th' sound, but unvoiced – like in 'bath' or 'froth'.

[3]I think I explained the old fashioned name of the times of day system in an earlier footnote somewhere, but just so that you don't have to go hunting, 'ótta' is three o'clock AM.