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CHAPTER V:

✧. ⋆ unlikely allies

     𝕿HE FIRE CRACKLED SOFTLY BENEATH the starry night sky. Little orange sparks drifted upwards to join the blinking lights in the heavens. In the distance the sound of the sea meeting the shore lingered, the only sound that accompanied the soft cracking of the wood that fueled the flames.

They sat in silence around the fire, all of them with their own thoughts to keep them company. Eldrid stared into the flames, wishing she could shove Kjartan into the heat and watch the skin melt from his bones. He had bought her family, like they were worth nothing more than cattle, and she was going to make him pay for it. But she couldn't simply march up to the gates of his fortress and demand he'd step outside. She didn't have the men needed to storm the walls, or the supplies for a siege. She had nothing but her anger to keep her going. Finally she had a name, finally her search had ended and now she didn't have the means to see it through...

"Halig," a soft voice cut through the heavy silence.

Eldrid lifted her gaze from the flames, watching as Uhtred finally seemed to have shaken the ghosts haunting him, at least long enough to worry about his friend.

"He has been taken down," Ragnar reassured him. "Wrapped and buried with shield and sword."

"You will say words for him, Hild?" Uhtred questioned, though his gaze remained focused on the flames.

"I have," the warrior nun nodded. "I will, always."

Silence settled on their group once more and Eldrid found herself watching the one they called Daneslayer. So far, she wasn't impressed, but she had to remind herself he spent the whole winter as a slave. Life at the oar was hard and cruel and maybe she should be impressed at the very simple fact that he'd managed to survive.

"Northumbria is torn," Ragnar spoke up, breaking the silence once again. "Aelfric did not come to Guthred's side. Erik and Sigefrid and Kjartan do what they please."

When his words didn't get so much as a nod from Uhtred, Ragnar looked up at Hild. The nun hung her head in despair and Eldrid could only imagine the pain they felt at seeing their friend and brother so completely broken.

"You haven't asked how I come to be here," Ragnar tried again, his eyes focused on Uhtred's face, watching for even the littlest of signs that he was being heard. And, as if hearing his brother's silent wish, Uhtred finally turned his gaze towards his brother. "Alfred," Ragnar chuckled, as if he still couldn't quite believe it. "Alfred sent us."

Eldrid shifted uncomfortably on the hard ground, still not used to being in the service of a Saxon king. She could tell herself she was doing this for Ragnar as many times as she wanted but the truth was she'd brought the enemy one of his best warriors. Though, looking at Uhtred's broken and scarred body, he seemed to have a long way to go before returning to the man he'd once been.

"I believe the King of Wessex cares for you," Ragnar added.

But Uhtred's eyes were empty and unseeing, staring at the grass as though everything around him was nothing but a dream.

"You're Uhtred's brother?" The Irishman spoke up, seeming to doubt for a moment, as if he was afraid he wasn't allowed to speak at all.

"I am," Ragnar confirmed.

The flames reflected in the eyes of the Irishman as he looked between the two Danes. "You look nothing like each other." A small smile tugged at his lips.

The tension was broken by a few soft chuckles. A weight was lifted from their shoulders and suddenly the fire felt warmer, the dark less haunting. Despite her worries, Eldrid felt the smallest of smiles appear on her own face, though it fell almost as soon as it came when Hild spoke up, filling the air with tension once again.

"Uhtred, you should eat," she urged, holding out a plate for him.

The man barely seemed to have the energy to shake his head and instead closed his eyes for a moment, conveying the same message. No.

A look of defeat crossed her face but she forced it away and turned to the Irishman instead. "Finan," she pressed.

Between haunting for their meal and setting up camp, Eldrid wondered where the nun had found the time to learn the Irishman's name. Or perhaps Eldrid had been too caught up in her own anger to make time to assure the two men they'd rescued were alright.

"Oh, we will eat, Lady," Finan assured her. "But our tummies are small. And our feet have barely touched dry land. It'll take a little time to find 'em."

Hild nodded, finally deciding to give up as she put the place back on the ground.

"Are you his brother?" Ragnar questioned in return.

"We are..." He searched for the right words, his gaze focused on the motionless form of his friend. "We are bound. I would say."

Ragnar seemed satisfied with that answer, nodding in appreciation. She supposed it was easier for him to carry his guilt when he knew Uhtred hadn't been completely alone during the torment of life as a slave.

"What about you, Lady?" Finan spoke up again, his gaze now focused on her.

She took a deep breath. "I'm here because I made an oath to Young Ragnar. I swore I would help him find his brother. I do not care for Alfred's plans." Even after spending the entire winter mocking Steapa with her lack of care for the Saxon ways, watching him scowl at her disrespectful tone never tired her.

To her great surprise, a smile appeared on Finan's features and for a moment she felt slightly taken aback. "Careful, Lady, or the big man might cut you in your sleep."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Careful, Irishman, none who questioned my skills live to see this day."

His smile did not falter. "I do not doubt it, Lady."

"It is true," Ragnar nodded, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I have a sour arse as proof."

Eldrid felt herself smiling as she looked at the Dane. "It might be time to think of returning home and settle with your woman."

He grinned at her. "Not for many years, my friend, not for many years."

Another round of laughter broke out and finally the tension seemed to have dissolved into the smoke, whisked away by the wind. Though soon enough, Eldrid got to her feet, bidding the men goodnight and making her way to her tent. As the night passed on, however, it became clear to her that sleep would not come to her. Her mind was caught thinking about the ways revenge might be possible after all, ways she might get her family back. But it was all day dreaming, for her army would never be big enough to get Kjartan outside of his high walls. And so all of her plans to enact her revenge were brought to a halt.

When the first morning light came sneaking through the cracks in the tent, she got up and got dressed. Then she made her way outside, where Bjorn had already started readying himself for the morning hunt. To her great surprise however, the Irishman was standing next to him. He'd gotten rid of his slave's attire and managed to find armor that fit him much better. He even managed to get his messy hair in somewhat decent shape, now bound neatly together in his neck.

As she approached, the two men fell silent and looked up at her.

"That frown will be etched permanently on your face if you're not careful," her brother spoke as he handed her a bow and a few arrows. A teasing smile tugged at his lips.

She glared at him, not bothering to form a reply.

"What's on your mind?" Bjorn questioned, his teasing smile slowly fading.

Her eyes briefly flickered to Finan, who was pretending to be focused on the string on his bow, before looking back to her brother. Her message was clear, not here. "I'm hungry," she finally said, her tone cold as steel, indicating that this would be the end of it.

"Then what are we waitin' for?" Finan spoke up, grinning as he headed towards the treeline.

Eldrid frowned at him as she followed, the bow in her hand the quiver slung over her shoulder. "Should you even be out here?" She questioned, her eyes scanning his skinny and exhausted body.

He turned around to look at her, continuing to walk backwards. "There's nothin' better than breathing the free air again, my Lady. I'm right where I wanna be."

She couldn't help the mocking smirk from appearing on her features. "You might want to turn around again, or you'll be right where you don't wanna be." She gestured towards the tree root right behind him, but he managed to turn around just in time to stay on his feet, taking away the opportunity for a good laugh.

"If we are to catch our breakfast, you two might have to be more quiet," Bjorn suggested, though his eyes were sparkling with amusement.

Eldrid ignored him, but did keep her mouth shut this time. With their weapons at the ready the three of them made their way through the greenery. She tried to put her feet down as softly as possible, recalling everything her father had ever taught her about hunting. It'd been a while since she'd do so herself, but that morning she needed the distraction. She desperately needed a target to point her anger at. She wanted the string to cut into her fingers so the pain would distract her from the uselessness she felt.

The last of the morning fog had been driven away by the watery sun when Eldrid first spotted the fresh tracks on the ground. She gestured towards her companions and as silently as possible they continued stalking after their prey. Heel first, then toe, keeping as close to the ground as not to scare their possible prey.

Finally she spotted the deer, its brown fur barely visible from the tree it was standing behind. She held up her hand, signalling for them to stop. Then she pointed to where she'd seen the animal before carefully reaching for one of the arrows. Slowly she put it on the string of the bow, lifting the weapon, ready to fire.

Just before she released her arrow however, another cut through the sky, striking down the deer mere seconds before hers did. With a scowl on her face she stood back to her full height, watching as Finan grinned at her before walking over to fetch the deer. He returned with the animal slung over his shoulders, still grinning broadly.

"I spotted it first," she told him as she glared at him.

He shrugged. "And it was my arrow that killed it first, Lady."

She wanted to punch his smug face. "What kind of barbaric country must Irland be if everyone shoots what isn't theirs," she sneered as she started to turn around to head back to the camp.

"No more barbaric Denmark I'd say," he was quick to reply, "they invaded what isn't theirs, didn't they?" He grinned before adding with a mocking tone and a wink: "My Lady."

She could hear Bjorn try - and fail - to stifle his laugh behind her, but she didn't bother turning around to look at him. Instead she kept her eyes focused on the road back to the camp, not bothering to join in the conversation about hunting that started between her brother and Finan.

By the time the camp came back into their view, Eldrid's hand had turned white from holding her bow so tightly. Her annoyance at the Irishman behind her was a bright burning flame and she was glad for the distraction of the others, at least it meant no longer having to listen to that annoying accent of his...

As Finan got to work on skinning the deer, she took a seat next to Ragnar, who handed her a jug of ale with a knowing smile on his face. "You seem awfully cheerful this morning," he grinned.

She took the jug and swallowed a mouthful of the ale, relishing in the way the drink burned its way to her stomach. "I have nothing to be cheerful about," she told him, her gaze still focused on Finan, annoyance twisting her veins with every move he made.

"I see," Ragnar mumbled while taking a swig of the ale himself. "But it is more than that Irishman bothering you, is it not?"

With a scoff she shook her head, having spent the entire winter with the Dane had apparently made sure he'd become very fine tuned to her emotions. She was yet to determine whether she appreciated that development. She wasn't used to anyone but her brother being able to read between the lines so perfectly. It was unnerving.

"It is," she finally caved, knowing the Dane well enough to realise lying would be useless.

Before he could reply however, their attention was drawn to Hild and Uhtred as they emerged from the field on their right. Uhtred looked cleaned up and...alive. He walked as though his spirit had returned and the sword stripped to his back only added to that. Whatever Hild had told him, it had brought out the warrior in him and for a moment Eldrid was stunned by the different man that was suddenly standing before her.

The two joined them near the fire and Steapa handed Uhtred a jug of ale, which he downed almost immediately, earning a chuckle from the big man. "You have a thirst, lord."

Uhtred nodded. "Mm, I do. It's good." His voice was filled with strength, none of the weakness of the previous evening lingered in the tones.

"I'm pleased," Steapa said with a smile. It wasn't often Eldrid had seen him smile before and it only added to her curiosity of the legend of the man seated across from her. "Alfred waits for your return," the man then added, his face back to business again.

"We have business here, Steapa, in the north," Uhtred replied as he put the jug of ale down.

She couldn't help but feel slightly surprised at his words. She'd thought a warrior saved by a King would want to make sure his gratitude was known, but Uhtred didn't seem all that interested in returning to Alfred.

"I gave my word," Ragnar spoke up. "We go to Wessex."

The words of his brother seemed to genuinely distraught Uhtred. "But we are here. Now."

Ragnar shook his head. "I gave my word. We go directly to Wessex. Kjartan can wait and Thyra" - his voice broke but he managed to pull himself together enough to finish - "she must wait."

Eldrid sat up straight. "You plan to go after Kjartan?" She questioned, her interest suddenly peaked.

The brothers held each other's gaze for a moment before Ragnar finally nodded. "We do, in time."

Her gaze went to Bjorn and in his eyes she could the very same plan that had formed in her own mind. "Then I will join you. You may have his head but I want his hands. He shall regret ever touching my family."

A smile had appeared on Uhtred's face, almost eager at the prospect of taking down the man who had wounded his family so deeply. "And I will be most thankful for your sword."

She felt herself smile in return, finally feeling her sense of purpose returning again. The weight of annoyance that had lingered in her bones all night finally seemed to feel lighter. She had found a way to attack Kjartan after all, to find her family again. Even if it meant having to go to Wessex first, she finally found a way.

"What about Gisela?" Hild spoke up suddenly.

Uhtred turned to her so swiftly that Eldrid thought his neck might break. "What of her?" He questioned, distraught. It fascinated her how he seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, brutally honest with the way he felt.

"She is safe," Hild assured him. "She waits for you at the nunnery at Epchester."

It seemed like they had one more stop before Wessex. But Kjartan wasn't going anywhere. She had waited this long, she could wait a little while longer.

―♛―

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

On this episode of "how petty is Eldrid Brynjardottir..." This chapter was an absolute joy to write, I swear. At first it was mostly dialogue until I decided to add the hunting scene and that might've been the best I have ever made. I'm very proud of how it turned out and I hope guys enjoy reading it!

Also, I really love Eldrid's fascination with Uhtred. He is so unlike everything she expected and it's so fun to write. But of course not as fun as Eldrid being totally annoyed with Finan ;)

Thank you all so much for the support on this story. It really means the world to me!

xx Nelly