Season of the Midnight Sun

"Leeks and cabbage. Best of the crop."

Baldr walked up to the loaded cart and picked up a couple of heads of cabbage to confirm they were fresh. "I'll give you two pennies for the crop."

"Two!" exclaimed Thorrin. "This crop is worth five pennies. That's what it sells for in Sothavn."

"Then take it to Sothavn yourself."

Though Torsten was sturdy and tough, he didn't want to walk two days with a rickety cart along a rock strewn rutted trail all the way to Sothavn. He sighed. "Deal."

Baldr hitched his thumb to his boat and said, "Go ahead. Load up."

Thorrin hauled out the first basket of cabbage and followed his father down the dock to the boat. He dumped them into the hull as his father hopped into the boat to place them in wooden crates near the boat's bow. Thorrin retrieved the next load from the cart and the next until the entire crop was loaded on the trading boat. They returned to Baldr standing nonchalantly by their cart. Baldr pulled out two pennies from his pocket, but instead of handing them to Torsten, he turned his hand to drop the coin in the mud.

Thorrin felt a rage he'd never felt before. His crewmates would never accept such disrespect. Not a one. He grabbed Baldr by his throat and drew his axe and said, "I've had it with you."

"Thorrin, please," his father implored.

He pressed the axe to Baldr's throat and snarled to his father, "This fucker has been treating you like shit my entire life. It stops today. You will give my father fair price."

Baldr trembled. "Four pennies. Three for you and one for my trouble."

"Five," replied Thorrin, pressing the axe blade into his throat. "Five pennies."

"Deal," croaked Baldr. "Deal!"

Thorrin withdrew his axe from the Baldr's throat. "Pick up those coins and hand them to my father."

He pushed the hapless man onto his knees. The older man picked up the coins. He stood to dig out three more pennies which he respectfully handed to Torsten before scuttling away.

Thorrin placed his axe back into his waistbelt. It was then that he looked around to see that all business had stopped as everyone was staring at him. The old Thorrin would've been embarrassed but this Thorrin straightened his back with utter defiance. He gave a stunted bow of attrition to the town folk before grabbing his oxen's yoke to start his journey home. Torsten joined him and town resumed its business as they two walked away. After they cleared the town, Torsten sternly said, "You shouldn't have done that."

Thorrin muttered, "You should have done that long ago."

"He probably won't take our business anymore."

"Then we spend a silver piece to strengthen the cart with iron fittings and take our crops to Sothavn ourselves from now on. We'll give that man nothing more."

The two men walked in silence beside the plodding ox until Torsten said, "You've changed."

"People change, father. It's inevitable."

As the days passed, Thorrin became more and more restless. There was an itch inside him that wriggled like a worm. He longed to be out at sea with men, to feel that anticipation of adventure that laid in a foreign bay. He found solace in the forest, hunting and laying snares. One day, he heard a woman humming and he followed the sound to see Sigrid bent over washing laundry in the stream. He crept towards her as though he were stalking prey. Not a twig snapped under foot as he neared the girl. His eyes were focused on her behind perched high like a doe. He imagined her without her close; the opened womanly folds that hold such delight. When he grabbed her by the hips, she shrieked before turning around to see her attacker.

"Stop," she cried.

But he didn't. His fingers dug into her hips as he ignored her protests. She tried to right herself but he pushed her back down as he continued to bump against her backside She looked back. There was a look of determination on his face. She knew that look of a man's carnality. She'd seen it before. He wasn't being playful. He was caught in lust.

"No! No!!" she cried before wriggling from his arms.

He kept advancing. That dangerous smile on his face frightened her. Leaving behind her basket of wet clothes, she took off running towards their home.

A primal urge came over Thorrin as he watched her run, her dress snagging on branches as she scrambled over the grassy meadow. She was a rabbit. He was a wolf. He sprang in pursuit, running as fast as he could to catch her. Sigrid glanced back and screamed at the sight of Thorrin's fearsome eyes. She ran faster, bounding over rocks and logs and other debris from winters' past. And as she neared the meadow's crest, where the roof of Torsten's house came into view, she fell to the ground from Thorrin's body crashing down upon her. With a strength he hadn't felt sense the raid, he reared up on his knees, pulled Sigrid up by the back of her dress, and flipped her over onto her back. Her forehead was scratched from the fall onto a jagged rock. He bent to kiss her but she turned her head away. Her thrashing legs excited him. His hand travelled between her thighs while she fought and pushed against him. He was hard from her squirming and kicking in her desperate fight to get away. He never saw the rock she grasped to strike his brow. He tumbled off her and grabbed his head. He sat up and gawked at the blood before looking up to see Sigrid running away.

When Thorrin returned home, he could see Sigrid sitting in her tattered frock with a cold damp cloth pressed to her forehead. Her elbows were scraped from his tackle. Frida stood cross armed with a judgmental scowl on her face that burnt into Thorrin's soul. His father's brow was furrowed from disappointment. A rage roiled within Thorrin which he could no longer control. He could no longer live with civilized people. He had become a savage. With long angry strides, he crossed the room, yanked his rucksack hanging from a peg and began to pack his belongings.

Frida asked, "Where are you going?"

"Sothavn."

Torsten approached. "Sothavn? Why?"

He didn't answer. He didn't have to answer to anyone. He was a raider; accountable to no one except the man who pays him. He took two silver coins, packed them in a pouch which he put under his tunic. With his rucksack packed, he grabbed his axe and left the house. Einar ran up to him to amble beside his brother's long legged stride.

"Where are you going?" asked the younger boy. "Can I come with you?"

"No."

"When will you return?"

Thorrin stopped and looked up to the sky before looking upon his little brother.

"I don't know. Help father in the fields and be obedient to mother. Can you do that for me?"

Einar nodded. And with that, Thorrin strode down the hill and onto the road leading to Sothavn.

He passed Roald's house but didn't stop to say hello or receive words of advice. He didn't need his uncle anyone. As he continued on his uneventful walk on the packed dirt trail through groves and around grassy knolls, his optimism and excitement grew. There was opportunity in Sothavn to become anything he wanted. Fame and fortune awaited him. Perhaps he'd return to Klartvann a very rich man. The sun was dipping low when he reached the port town. The first thing he did was to go somewhere familiar and headed to Tilda's bath house. Though he required no grooming, he bought a bath to soak in hot water. He bought the pleasure of Aveline's attention. She fetched him a horn of mead which he drank as he soaked and mused about what adventures and wealth awaited him on distant shores. After his bath, he walked over to the boarding house where he'd paid for three nights lodging. He dined on mutton and bread topped off by more mead and finding himself tired from his walk and the events of the day, he retired to his bed. He had an expectation that Aveline would visit his bed but through the wattle screen, he heard Aveline murmur to another man, 'I'm usually not nice to customers but you're different from the others. You different; gentle.' It was then that Thorrin learned that he meant nothing to her. Women lie to men to get what they want.

Thorrin spent the next day on the docks approaching every merchant ship, war ship, and fishing vessels alike, to ask if they needed an oarsmen or crew. Everyone declined stating they had crew or weren't shipping out until late fall or next spring. Dejected, he went to drinking hall and bought more mead. He gambled on games of chance and lost, throwing the dice over and over again but luck never came his way. He drank until he couldn't stand. And after two days of drinking and carousing, he finally was made fully awake from a swift kick and harsh words from an angry vendor who woke him as he slept on the ground beside a market stall. He dug in his pouch to buy some food to find that all of his money was gone. His stomach growled as he wandered back down to the docks where he sat looking out at calm waters and contemplated stealing food.

"Young brave."

He turned to see Liv's red haired servant holding a covered basket. His eyes lingered upon her a bit until returning to quiet waters.

"You're an oarsman from the Sea Knife, are you not?"

"Yes."

"Why so low?"

"I was hoping to man a boat and return to sea. No one has need for me."

"I do. I have a job for you."

He looked up at her. She was breathtaking with that flame red hair, pine green eyes, a slim nose and pretty pink lips. He'd never been this close to her before. She was prettier than he remembered.

"What kind of job?" he asked.

A smile spread across her face as she reached for him. "Come, come with me. I promise you'll be compensated for your services."

He took her hand and stood before picking up his rucksack. He followed her at a respectable distance as not to be associated to her for her honor's sake. They walked through the market place to Helvig's magnificent long house and entered the dark great hall. A few women sat around a hearth's fire, sewing and knitting. The handmaiden stopped.

"Sit."

He sat on a bench at an empty long table.

"Alruna!" called the red haired beauty.

An elderly woman sitting in a dark corner set down her knitting before rising at her mistress' call.

"Make this young brave some golden tea."

Without a word, the squat grey woman toddled towards a shelf containing various clay jars. She picked crushed leaves from a few and placed them in a cup before toddling over to a kettle over a hearth to add hot water.

"Wait here," the red haired maid ordered before walking towards the dais where Helvig and Liv sit to disappear behind a wooden screen.

The old woman placed the cup of tea before the young man. She gave him a toothless smile before leaving him to drink his tea in peace. Thorrin sniffed the rising steam. It smelled pleasant and sweet so he began to drink. He looked around the quiet room, happy to be in darkness in this season of the mid-night sun. An old woman began to hum an unfamiliar tune. The others joined in. Their humming soothed Thorrin and he began to relax. He finished the tea, serenaded by the women until the warmth and darkness began to overtake him. He became drowsy and laid his head down upon the table, listening the women's lullaby. He fought to keep his eyes open and through the blur, he watched three women approach. They spoke with hushed voices.

"Do you think she'll like him?" asked one.

"He's not from a notable family. He's alone. And look at him. Strong. Handsome."

A finger trailed across his cheek. "Healthy and young."

"He's perfect," claimed the third.

With that, he felt soft hands caress him as they helped him to his feet. And though he tried to walk and shake the fog in his head, his legs went limp and the darkness engulfed him.

From the fog, a sweet female voice softy said, "Fenrir. Fenrir."

Thorrin awoke face down on a bed covered with a soft slippery sheet. He was naked or so he thought. There were leather bindings on his arms and thighs but they bound him to no object or restricted his movement. Something was bound to him. There was a fur hat on his head. He cast his eyes up to see the chin of a wolf's head hovering over his brow. He moved his arms into sight to see a wolf's pelt was attached to his naked body.

He rolled over to see Liv beside him. The great lady's modesty was gone as she lay on her side in all of her naked glory. She was as serene and confident as a goddess.

"Great wolf, you are here to devour the sun. I am the sun." She leaned towards him, her lips grazing his ear. "Devour me."

With heavy breath he asked, "Where's your husband?"

"Far away with his men on a trade mission. But let's not speak of him."

Her glacier blue eyes drew him into her spell. She pulled him on top of her and placed a passionate open mouth kiss. Then he felt hands, many hands, stroking his back's wolf pelt. He looked up to see Liv's naked maids loving stroking his back. He rose upon his hands and knees, in shock from this strange situation. He felt an oily hand grab his manhood and milked it like a cow. His wolf head's nose dragged between Liv's chest as he looked down to watch a set of lovely fingers around his manhood stroking it to hardness. He groaned with delight. Relaxed and let the hands do what they will.

A sharp pain to the back made him rear up and howl in pain. He reached behind him before turning to see the black haired maid raise a bloody knife. Poised to strike him, he grabbed her wrist, twisting it until the blade fell. He shoved her with all of his might, sending her tumbling off the bed. He saw the angry faced red haired maid lift her blade. He threw up his hand to deflect the blow that slashed at the wolf's pelt. He punched her in the stomach. She doubled over in pain. His neck was saved by the leather strap as a blade slashed at his throat. He saw the strike was from the blonde maid who he picked up threw across the room. And when Liv pulled a blade from beneath a pillow, he rolled from the bed and stood. Her face was twisted with pure malice.

"You shall not bring about Ragnarök, Fenrir. Die, beast. Die!!"

She lunged at him and he dodged the strike as his body careened backwards through a screen where he ended up back in the feasting hall. He got up and stumbled, ripping the wolf skin from his bloody back. Naked and bleeding, he looked up to see all of the older women rummaging through his rucksack.

"Get out of my things!" he bellowed.

The women dropped his bag, cowering from the fearsome man.

"Give me that!" snatching his trousers from an old lady's hands.

Jumping into his trousers, he pulled on his tunic smearing blood down his back. Thorrin grabbed his bag and ran from Helvig's longhouse. He stopped to see everyone in town going about their normal business before breaking into a swift stride to the road back to Klartvann. Once he cleared the town's last building, he ran barefoot until Sothavn was well behind him.

Torsten and his family were eating dinner when the door burst open. He and Einar stood, ready to defend their home before they recognized Thorrin before he collapsed in the door way. Frida rushed to him, horrified by the amount of the wet blood staining the back of his shirt. They picked him up and laid him stomach upon his sleeping bench. Frida quickly washed her hands before sitting beside him to lift his tunic. She looked at his wound and prodded the cut which had stopped bleeding.

Frida calmly said, "He's lucky. The wound isn't deep. A blade struck his shoulder blade. Sigrid, cut a leg size length of the white thread from the spool and boil it. Gunhild, soak a clothe in the boiling water. Fetch my needle as it soaks."

Confident that Thorrin would live, Einar sat down at the table to finish his meal. Torsten sat and watched his wife care for his son. Why was Thorrin attacked? The girls returned with Frida's tools and Frida cleaned the wound before stitching close his wound. Thorrin grimaced and growled each time the needle pierced his skin. A sweat gathered on his brow. He looked up to see Sigrid standing over him. He smiled at her before everything went black.

Over the days, Thorrin recovered. His mother kept an eye on his wound.

"It's not infected," she said, removing the last bandage. "You will live but son, I'm worried about you."

He remained stoic even when Frida took his face in her hand to caress.

"You were once happy to be with your father in the field. You were curious about nature. These were things that brought you joy. I don't know what you've seen or what you may've done in the world, but those experiences don't define who you are."

Soothed by his mother's words and gentle touch, Thorrin felt his humanity return. He wanted to cry but held it in.

She hugged him tight. "You're home, son. You're home."

It was late summer when night finally returned. As everyone lay asleep in their beds, Thorrin thought about life. It was then that he noticed a green glow of light shining from the slit beneath the door. He got up, cracked open the door, and looked up to see the green curtain of northern lights shimmering in the clear black sky.

He hurried to rouse Sigrid. She flinched upon seeing him but relaxed when he shushed her. He grasped her hand and eased her from the bed. She followed him outside. Her mouth fell open at the sight of the lights. She quietly said, "The Bifrost. I haven't seen it in years."

"Me neither. It's so beautiful."

"Odd that it appears this time of the year. I wonder what it means."

"It's a sign of blessings from Odin," she replied.

Upon seeing her shiver, he put his cloak over her shoulder. She walked with him to a nearby boulder to watch the lights and their reflection which spanned over the fjord's night water. They sat in silence reveling in the splendor.

Thorrin turned to Sigrid and said, "I want to gift you something."

He removed the braided gold band from his smallest finger.

"For you," he said handing it to her. "A ring of gold."

She accepted it with a smile and put it on her finger. "Thank you."

"It's yours to do what you want."

"I'll keep it forever."

He placed his arm over her shoulder to draw her into his warmth. She settled into him, safe within his arms. It felt more than natural. It felt magical.

"Sigrid, could you love me?"

"I've had great affection for you, ever since I watched you play fight with my brother when we were young. Do you affection for me?"

"Yes. I want you to be my wife. You're kind and dutiful and very pretty. Could you be my wife?"

She blushed. "I think I'd like that very much."

"I promise to protect and provide for you. We can move back to your house and start a home."

She snapped, "I don't ever want to return to that house again."

She cuddled closer to him. He looked into her sad eyes tinted green from Bifrost lights.

She softly said, "I've been hurt by men before. My father made me perform the duties of a wife. Then my brother tried but I'd run away and hide." She sighed. "It's been nice here with your mother. I never knew my mother and Frida knows much about everything and she's teaching me so much. I want to be a healer like her."

"You already are. I won't hurt you ever again. I promise."

They sat silent and watched the lights dance and bend like curtains of swirling lights for a while before Thorrin spoke.

"I'm haunted too. I thought I'd be fighting a king's war but people were just running and screaming. I told myself, 'Do what you need to do to return home' and when I returned, I felt like I didn't belong here among gentle things anymore."