Status: Updates will start after the third of May again due to holidays..
Thirst
Realisation (2/5)
It has been three weeks in this strange, unfamiliar village, unfamiliar faces, and it's hard to understand how time works anymore. Realization we have lost everything hit hard after the first day, from my childhood toys to our winter food and from my brothers to the boy I was supposed to marry in summer. Their faces follow me in my dreams at night and I'm no longer sure what to feel, only that strange, new feeling in my chest has stayed, and I have given it a name.
Thirst.
Thirst for revenge.
And this feeling is new to me as I am a girl and despite the fact I can handle a sword and a shield, I have never known more than the basics and I was never supposed to fight like my brothers. The legendary shieldmaidens that are told about at the fire in the darkest nights are puppets to my imagination now, and each time I watch them slaughter a faceless enemy; one with my father's blood in his beard and the screams of my brothers echouing in his ears.
My mother does not want to hear of revenge. She sits in the doorstep with a bowl of thin end-of-winter soup and watches the horizon, as the Earl of the villages debates our fate. He wants me married, new blood is welcome, but my mother has passed her years of giving birth and can my uncle support another unmarried mouth?
Marriage doesn't seem like it would hurt me too much; I was promised to someone anyway, and I know it is everyone's fate, yet it seems so impossible to marry now, with the thirst for revenge hidden in my otherwise empty chest.
It is late at night when I hear my uncle softly talk with my aunt and their eldest son, the other children in bed, asleep, like a nest of young dogs tumbled over eachother, but I am much more intrested in my uncle's words.
He's speaking of a man. A man that lead an attack. His name rolls of my uncle's tongue like a witch's curse and I shiver, tasting the nickname on my own tongue, and they call him Thorir, Thorir Bloodthirst, and I swallow.
Thorir Bloodthirst, man of the east, slaughterer of many, and favoured by the gods.
My own thirst grows that night.
The following morning, the Earl calls me and my mother forward, and tells us to speak our names. I still have not said a word and my mother calls out my name as well, pride in her voice as I straighten my back and look the Earl in the eye. The Earl is a large man; he is bald already, but his beard flourishes with the spit that comes out of his mouth when he speaks, and his stomach has grown over the decades, but his mind hasn't decayed yet and though not handsome, the Earl of this village is a wise man. I know my fate lies in the words he will speak and no matter what that fate will be, I have a request to make.
I want to hear Thorir's screams echooing in my ears.
And the Earl speaks, right then and there, of my and mother's uncertain future, life without really having a house or closeby family and I hear that my uncle starts to protest, but the Earl raises a hand, and looks my mother in the eye.
He says he has found me a man willing to marry, and willing to take in my mother, might my uncle fail to do so. He calls forward a man, he has to be in his early twenties, with a face that has seen grief and long, blonde hair, with a mjölnir around his neck simular to mine and friendly eyes. He is as unfamiliar to me as this entire village, but I can't help but like him because after the burning of the village, I'm not sure if I could live with someone who hasn't been mistreated by fate. I smile at him and he smiles back, relieved, and I look back to the Earl, who has quietly witnessed and acknowledged the meaning of this exchange.
I accept marriage with a straigth back and my head held high, and then the Earl speaks again but this time I cannot follow his words, tumbling over eachother in the mist of my thoughts, until my mother tugs on my arm for me to follow her out of the building. I shake my head, and then I speak.
'I have one request to make, my Lord,' I speak, and my mother turns her head in suprise, as does the man that I will marry. 'I wish to see Thorir Bloodthirst die, for he has killed my family, slaughtered our cattle, and burned our homes. I cannot let this man walk over the Earth with a head helt high and no trace of guilt or regret in his mind. I will not let him feast beside my fallen brothers, father, the legendary warriors and Odin in Valhalla.'
I look into the Earl's grey eyes. 'I want to send Thorir to Hel, my Lord, with my very own sword.'
Silence.
Thirst.
Thirst for revenge.
And this feeling is new to me as I am a girl and despite the fact I can handle a sword and a shield, I have never known more than the basics and I was never supposed to fight like my brothers. The legendary shieldmaidens that are told about at the fire in the darkest nights are puppets to my imagination now, and each time I watch them slaughter a faceless enemy; one with my father's blood in his beard and the screams of my brothers echouing in his ears.
My mother does not want to hear of revenge. She sits in the doorstep with a bowl of thin end-of-winter soup and watches the horizon, as the Earl of the villages debates our fate. He wants me married, new blood is welcome, but my mother has passed her years of giving birth and can my uncle support another unmarried mouth?
Marriage doesn't seem like it would hurt me too much; I was promised to someone anyway, and I know it is everyone's fate, yet it seems so impossible to marry now, with the thirst for revenge hidden in my otherwise empty chest.
It is late at night when I hear my uncle softly talk with my aunt and their eldest son, the other children in bed, asleep, like a nest of young dogs tumbled over eachother, but I am much more intrested in my uncle's words.
He's speaking of a man. A man that lead an attack. His name rolls of my uncle's tongue like a witch's curse and I shiver, tasting the nickname on my own tongue, and they call him Thorir, Thorir Bloodthirst, and I swallow.
Thorir Bloodthirst, man of the east, slaughterer of many, and favoured by the gods.
My own thirst grows that night.
The following morning, the Earl calls me and my mother forward, and tells us to speak our names. I still have not said a word and my mother calls out my name as well, pride in her voice as I straighten my back and look the Earl in the eye. The Earl is a large man; he is bald already, but his beard flourishes with the spit that comes out of his mouth when he speaks, and his stomach has grown over the decades, but his mind hasn't decayed yet and though not handsome, the Earl of this village is a wise man. I know my fate lies in the words he will speak and no matter what that fate will be, I have a request to make.
I want to hear Thorir's screams echooing in my ears.
And the Earl speaks, right then and there, of my and mother's uncertain future, life without really having a house or closeby family and I hear that my uncle starts to protest, but the Earl raises a hand, and looks my mother in the eye.
He says he has found me a man willing to marry, and willing to take in my mother, might my uncle fail to do so. He calls forward a man, he has to be in his early twenties, with a face that has seen grief and long, blonde hair, with a mjölnir around his neck simular to mine and friendly eyes. He is as unfamiliar to me as this entire village, but I can't help but like him because after the burning of the village, I'm not sure if I could live with someone who hasn't been mistreated by fate. I smile at him and he smiles back, relieved, and I look back to the Earl, who has quietly witnessed and acknowledged the meaning of this exchange.
I accept marriage with a straigth back and my head held high, and then the Earl speaks again but this time I cannot follow his words, tumbling over eachother in the mist of my thoughts, until my mother tugs on my arm for me to follow her out of the building. I shake my head, and then I speak.
'I have one request to make, my Lord,' I speak, and my mother turns her head in suprise, as does the man that I will marry. 'I wish to see Thorir Bloodthirst die, for he has killed my family, slaughtered our cattle, and burned our homes. I cannot let this man walk over the Earth with a head helt high and no trace of guilt or regret in his mind. I will not let him feast beside my fallen brothers, father, the legendary warriors and Odin in Valhalla.'
I look into the Earl's grey eyes. 'I want to send Thorir to Hel, my Lord, with my very own sword.'
Silence.