ﾟ❁ུ۪ °ₒ 𓂂 ˚ 𓂂 ₒ ° ₒ 𓂂 ˚˖⋆

CHAPTER xxvi. 'Eternal Peace, My Dear'

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            When Freydis awoke the next morning, she was forced to depart the men in order to shake loose sand from every crevice of her body. Then, she used the seawater she so-desperately despised the night before to wetten her hair, and make it easier to rip a strayed crabs claw through her knotted locks. When she returned to the men, she looked exceptionally better than she had in the morning —the others were still asleep aside for Uhtred, who both kept watch and planned their hour-to-hour for throughout the day. A small fire crackled, providing warmth to the sleeping Dane beside it whose hair was scarily close to becoming alight. She sat beside the Dane's head, brushing his hair away from the embers before drawing her knees up, and resting her elbow against them. "Have you a plan?"

    Uhtred nodded, "Don't I always?" Freydis glared at him, to which the Dane-slayer shite-eating grin fell. "I'm going to give them another hour, and then we leave for a village called Grimbsy. You should get some more sleep, I doubt Sihtric would mind if you leant against him to keep your hair clean."

    Freydis' harsh expression softened, "You noticed?"

    "Noticed what?"

    The glare found its way back onto the Irish-rogue's exhausted features. "When we return to Coccham, I am going to set your hall alight."

    "I'm only joking, Frey," chortled the Danish Saxon, "I've long hair as well, if you haven't noticed. I washed the sand out when I took watch two hours ago."

    Freydis nodded, "Before Grimbsy, do you mind if we stop at the village those arse's were speaking of yesterday, lord?"

    Uhtred rolled his eyes, "Of course, lady."

    Freydis grinned, and shrugged, "I thought you'd be more likely to say 'yes' if I said it."

    "We need to buy horses, anyway," he said, "we've got a sum of seventy silver gathered from the bodies, and several more bronze-pieces from yesterday's turds. We can get a good meal, fresh pair of clothes, and some fast horses with some left over."

    Freydis nodded, frowning. That day they would be exploiting her mens money, her dead mens money. A flash of Myfanwy's seawater-bloated face shrouded her mind, vanishing just as quickly with a flinch and extra-long blink from the daughter of Linnasburgh. When the Dane's took her from Irland, she was brought with two other Irishman; Myfanwy, and a boy whose name was forgotten with the impression of his face. Both, now, were dead, never to know if Linnasburgh would be re-taken, or able to enjoy its delights if it was. Freydis felt warmth against the back of her hand, and looked up to see Uhtred watching her worriedly. "Are you alright?"

    She flashed a small smile, "Just fine, lord. Tired, as you said."

    "Then get some sleeep," he exaggerated, "I'm sure those lumps won't mind if they get an extra half-hour."

    "I don't think I will be able to, lord," Freydis said, "I only fell asleep last night out of sheer exhaustion from floating in the sea for half-a-day."

    "Fair enough," the Dane-slayer curtly nodded, "then you won't mind me awakening them?"

    "Kindly, lord," Freydis began, glancing toward her peeling fingertips. "May we sit in silence for a bit? I need some time to... think."

    Uhtred nodded, throwing the twig he used to draw into the sand into the fire. "Think away, lady. And perhaps think about the double-standard of calling me 'lord' while you're at it."

    "Aye, lord."

    As promised, an hour later they were on the move. His men hadn't even time to piss before their trek began, and the boys made sure to complain of it. "Lord, my cock is singing for a piss."

    Uhtred sighed, "Then piss, Finan. I'm not keeping you from doing anything."

    The Irishman groaned, "I don't feel like runnin' to catch up, and yu'r sure as balls not going to wait for me."

    Freydis re-arranged the sheath around her hips, she had taken Burchnard's sword as her own when it appeared the sea would not return her previous sword Belenus to her. "This is a lovely conversation, tell us more, Finan."

    "I'm also hungry, looord," the Irishman delighted in his complaints, "in the words of our dearly-departed Clapa-the-Giant; my belly feels as if my throats been cut!"

    Sihtric scoffed, "Clapa wasn't called that."

    Freydis glanced between them both, "Who is Clapa?"

    "A giant." Finan appeased, "Nonetheless, I need ta' piss!"

    Osferth matched his pace with Freydis', "Clapa was one of Uhtreds oathsmen. Died bravely, as I'm told."

    Sihtric sneezed, and wiped his arm on his wrist before continuing Osferth's statement, "Took four men to take him to his knees, and then another four to have him on his back."

    Freydis nodded, "Sounds like a giant."

    Finan shoved the Dane, "See!" Sihtric sneezed in response. "Ah, yu' bloody disease-riddled Danish piece of horse shite!"

    Sihtric smiled smugly to himself, and Uhtred turned to acknowledge them all for the first time since Finan's initial complaint of needing to piss. "We're here," he stated, and as they approached the height of the hill they were exposed to a tiny village of a single chapel, and several other tiny huts. He pulled out several pouches, handing them to each one of his men. "Sihtric, buy us all a horse. Finan, you piss. Osferth and Beocca, buy food and sale, and Freydis, fetch us some new clothes. Uhtred–"

    Young Uhtred tilted his chin up defiantly, "Father, I was actually quite hoping to pray."

    Uhtred seethed, clenching his jaw, "Fine. Everyone meet by that tree over there, and Finan, don't piss on it please."

    Finan saluted his lord, and everyone then broke out into their separate roles. Freydis found herself making her way to a hut with two women out front its door hanging clothes on a furrowed wire. "How much for those?"

    A particular red-head glanced at the trousers, and tunic in her hands, "My husband's clothing?"

    Freydis shrugged, "Have you a shop around here for such?"

    "The shop is us, Calcherth's physically-exhausted misused women." Said the blonde, standing beside the confused woman. "How much do you need?"

    "Clothing for myself, and five other men about the ginger's husband's size." Freydis stated, "particularly a tunic, and trousers for myself."

    "Hm, I can do that," the blonde nodded, "for fifteen silver pieces."

    "I'll give you twenty if you can braid my hair within the next ten minutes."

    The blonde nodded dictatly, "Follow me, lady. I will see you later, Winfrith, and if that man hits you again you must gut him like a codfish."

    Winfrith watched her friend with shock, "You mustn't speak like a warrior, Everildis, it is not lady-like. In the old century, women like you would be flayed for such discourtesy!"

    Everildis ignored the red-haired Christian, and continued walking. Freydis jogged to catch up with her, "I assume Winfrith hasn't gotten out of this village much?"

    "Not once in her life," Everildis shook her head. "She's as naive as a stag's fawn, lady."

    Freydis cringed, "How do you know I am a lady?'

    "You walk like one," the woman responded, "all ladies have had proper ballroom training. A gentleman mustn't marry a woman who cannot waltz."

    Freydis rolled her eyes, "Fair enough, I was a lady. And you? How do you know so much about royal household traditions?"

    Everildis ignored her, "Do you happen to be a part of the ensemble of soggy men who stopped by yesterday?"

    Freydis nodded, "Yes, are they still there?"

    "They left for Grimbsy," she stated, throwing clothes into a basket. "Sit, I must braid your hair–we've got another four minutes before I lose silver."

    Freydis listened, plopping down and allowing the woman to grab her locks. "This town... Calcerth, it is Christian?

    Everildis curtly nodded, "Rather. Our sheer stubbornness keeps away the Danish conquerors who have already conquered the north."

    Freydis nodded, "Quite unfortunate," she stated, "Calcerth is a beautiful little town, Gods–God be praised."

    "Aye."

    Freydis began to bounce her knee, "How many live here?'

    "You talk too much," Everildis blatantly stated, "and I have finished your hair. That will be seventeen silver."

    Freydis drew her fingers across the braid, testing its actuality with sheer touch. "Fifteen."

    Everildis planted her palm against her hip, "Two more for the wonderful conversation."

    "You are a darling-specimen of a woman," Freydis chastised, reluctantly opening her pouch and counting seventeen silver. "I suppose your husband has something to do with it?"

    Everildis sniffed, "Yes, rather-so. You may leave now. There is no need to return the basket."

    "Does he hit you?"

    She crossed her arms, "Rather uncreative, but easy to handle. Winfrith, however, faces tortures no woman should ever face."

    "Perhaps you should gut her husband like a codfish." Freydis smirked. "You've the muscle for it."

    "But not enough to deter my furious husband; his brother." She rolled her eyes, "besides, it is merely wishful thinking. Our husbands are military-commanders of Calcerth's fyrd, we'd hurt everyone to spare ourselves from such disfortune."

    Freydis nodded in understanding, "Very well," she stated, "but if you ever choose differently, broom torns create rather swell defense mechanisms. Especially in the neck, about four fingers from the earlobe."

    Everildis squinted her eyes at the Irish-rogue before nodding, and flicking a single silver-piece back to its originator. "For the advice," she reasoned.

    Freydis grinned, and took her leave. They all allotted by the tree instructed by Uhtred, and they were all satisfied to find it was free of the Irishmans piss. Freydis plopped the basket into the grass, taking interest in a cloudy-white stallion tied to a treebranch, "A lovely beast."

    Finan took a gulp of ale, "Don't name it."

    "I'm not," she spat, kicking his foot. He trudged over to Osferth, taking a bowl of stew for herself. "So, Uhtred, what are we to do after we arrive at Grimbsy?"

    "Gather information," Uhtred said, picking his tooth with straw. "Buy a small boat, then leave."   

    "A man of many words," said the woman sarcastically. "Well, a woman told me some rather-soggy men passed through here yesterday for Grimbsy. So we may need a bigger boat, if they choose to join us."

    "They've no reason to," Finan grunted, and then glanced up at Freydis, "sorry."

    Sihtric leant against the tree, snorting gunk so loudly that it made Freydis' stomach whurl. "Your son still grovels before his God, lord."

    Without saying anything, Uhtred passed Young Uhtred's saved-ale toward the Dane, who smirked in Finan's direction. The Irishman rolled his eyes, snatching Freydis' ale and pouring some of hers into his empty cup. Freydis ignored him, "Are you ill, Sihtric?"

    Sihtric shook his head, "Merely feverish from the grasses."

    "Looks ill, don't he?" Finan asked, unusually concerned. "All ugly and sad."

    Freydis sighed, "You're not funny, Finan."

    "And you're pissy, Freydis."

     Osferth laughed, "Is this a civil war we are witnessing?"

    "Should we move away?" Sihtric pondered, "The Irish are quite savage."

     Finan pointed at his friend, "Not as savage as the Scots."

    "I doubt that," Freydis debated, "we are a rather violent bunch. I've once witnessed a warrior tear open the chest cavity of Norsemen with his teeth."

    He glanced toward her, "Was he of the Gods?"

    Freydis glared at him, "Yes, and?"

    "Uhtred!" The elder Uhtred shouted, standing. "Thank the Gods you are back. Eat your stew swifty, we leave soon. Everyone else, prepare your horses – silently, or I will cut out your tongues."

    "Lord?"

    Uhtred groaned, and turned, "Yes, Finan?"

    The Irishman smirked, "Just wanted to see if yu' had the balls to do it – yu' don't."

    Uhtred pointed his saex at his friend, "Finan, shut your loud Irish mouth or I'll tell Sihtric to return your horse so you will have to walk."

    Finan raised his hands up in surrender, and in silence, they dressed into the fresh clothes gathered by Freydis and carried out the task commanded by their lord. Moments later, Young Uhtred stacked his bowl amongst the others, and they all began to sit in the saddles of their horses. Freydis, on the other hand, did not. Instead, she moved to Uhtreds side and spoke up to him. "Lord, may I stay behind? I wish to pray to the Gods for Myfanwy before we go. The beach was no environment for such a ritual."

    Uhtred curtly nodded, "Head north, and do not stray too far. Shall I leave Finan to keep watch?"

    "Watch of what?" The Irishman asked, leaning toward him upon hearing his name.

    Freydis rolled her eyes, "No, that is fine, lord."

    "Very well," Uhtred nodded, and he looked toward the others. "We leave!"

    Freydis watched for a few moments as they left, ensuring that none of them turned to question her whereabouts. Satisfied, she sighed. She stacked all the meal-supplies into the basket Everildis lended her, and moved it a bit away from the tree before falling to her knees, and using her stolen sword to dig a small hole in the dirt. When it was deep enough to fit her fist, she planted the lock of hair she took from Myfanwy's head and planted it inside. She mourned that she could not do a proper body burial, but the hair should be enough. It was a part of her, and thus should still hold connection in present life, and the afterlife. "Deep peace of the running wave to you, deep peace of the flowing air to you," she used her fingers, this time, to place the dirt back into its hole. "Deep peace of the quiet earth to you, deep peace of the shining stars to you," She pattened down the dirt, collecting a few stones to pile on top. "deep peace of the infinite peace to you," she looked to her masterpiece, satisfied. "Suaimhneas síoraí, a stór." 'Eternal peace, my dear.'

    Freydis watched the small grave for a few more moments, as if suspecting a hand would reach out and dig itself from its trenches. When her hopes proved unfruitful, she sighed and turned to saddle her horse, and rejoin the rest of the group. Instead, she was left to take a step back as she found Finan standing behind her. "I told Uhtred 'no,'" was all she could say, "why are you here?"

    He didn't take his eyes off her, "That was beautiful."

    "It was a burial, there is nothing beautiful about it." She refuted, "answer my question."

    "I lagged behind until it'd be safe to revert back here without the others noticing," he confessed, "we're in new lands, I didn't want to leave yu' behind."

    Freydis tilted her head, "So Uhtred didn't blatantly ignore my wishes, it was just you?"

    He frowned, "Well, when yu' put it like that–"

    "Because if it was just you," she continued, "I suppose I don't mind." Finan gaped before nodding, and looking to his feet. "And thank you, but it was not as beautiful as I would have hoped. It fulfills what is intended, nonetheless."

    He nodded, crouching down to grab a small pouch-sized stone. "May I?'

    Freydis nodded, stepping out of the way and watching him lean down to place the stone on the slight mound the Irish-rogue created for her fallen friend. He said a small Christian prayer in English before turning to gaelic, "Suaimhneas síoraí." 'Eternal peace.' He turned to her, holding out his palm for her to use to be hoisted up onto her cloudy-white horse. "Shall we?" He inquired, copying her action with his own recently-purchased stallion.

    Freydis nodded, smiling at her Irishman, "We shall."

°ₒ 𓂂 ˚ 𓂂 ₒ ° ₒ 𓂂 ˚˖⋆

A/N: This wasn't supposed to exist <3 but I wrote it, so here.

Now onto more important things.. OH MY GOD SEASON 5 TLK WAS SO AMAZING. I am so satisfied with everything, that season was a fucking emotional rollercoaster with major GoT vibes.

I can't wait to incorporate it into this story (::

If I write again, it'll most likely be next Sunday — nathless, let us see (;

Tschüss

Posted: 03:13:2022
Words: 2,723