V for Viking Trilogy, page 6
Torleif finally consented. He set the bear cub down on the floor and pushed away from the table. Despite his misgivings about the situation, he didn't want to leave their conversation on such a sour note. “Don't worry, Brynjar. I will cut the finest rune stone this world has ever seen!” With that, he turned and walked out of the longhouse.
Still a bit hung over, Torleif decided to go back to his cabin and take a nap. It bothered him that Brynjar ordered him to work on projects he had no business doing. Rune stones and burial mounds be damned.
As he was walking down the dirt road, he heard a rock hit the ground not far from him. Looking back, he could see that a small group of kids were throwing rocks at Chubbers. The little bear looked more curious than alarmed. That is, until a big rock hit him on the head.
“Hey!” yelled Torleif. “Come here, you little bastards!”
The kids ran in one direction, and Chubbers ran in the opposite direction – into the woods. Flustered for a brief moment, Torleif decided to run into the woods and catch the cub.
It wasn't difficult. The little bear couldn't run that fast, and was rather clumsy. In less than a minute, Torleif caught up to the cub and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. “Shh, it's okay,” he whispered. Chubbers squirmed for a bit and let out a high pitched growl.
Well, that settles it, Torleif thought. He picked up the cub and walked back to his cabin. He set the bear down and closed the door. He then walked to Stein's house and knocked loudly on the door. He was mad as a hornet's nest.
A few moments later, Stein answered the door.
“Torleif! What brings you here?”
Torleif was not in the mood for pleasant conversation. “Those little vagabonds you call children are throwing rocks at my bear. If it happens one more time, I'm going to give those little bastards a beating they'll never forget!”
Stein was unfazed. He was a bigger man than Torleif, and surly. “You lay a hand on my kids, and I'll give you a beating that you'll never forget.” He then crossed his arms in front of his chest and stood defiantly.
Never one to back down from a fight, Torleif shifted his leg back and kicked Stein in the balls. The bigger man doubled over, clasping his groin with both hands. Torleif then threw an uppercut with all his might, right on Stein's bearded jaw.
The man was so big that he fell down in sections. First he dropped to his knees, then fell sideways onto his hip, and finally his big surly head hit the ground.
“The same thing is going to happen to your kids if I catch them throwing rocks, you stupid goat,” said Torleif as he walked away.
Stein howled in pain and frustration. “This isn't over Torleif! You touch my kids and you're a dead man! You hear me?”
Torleif did not bother to turn around, nor did he pay any attention to Stein's words. The big man was so stupid that he would probably forget what just happened as soon as he got to his feet, Torleif mused.
Pleased with the outcome of his discussion with Stein, Torleif started to whistle as he walked down the dirt road. When he finally got home, he was too worked up to take a nap, so he sat in his backyard and played with Chubbers. They wrestled on the ground for a good long time.
It wasn't much of a competition, as Torleif weighted nearly five times as much as the little cub. That is, until Chubbers bit his chin and wouldn't let go. Reflexively, Torleif stood up with the cub still clamped onto his chin.
“Aargh!” Screamed Torleif as he tried to remove the little demon-bear from his face. He was finally able to pry Chubbers' jaw apart with his fingers and set him down.
He pointed an accusing finger at the bear and said, “That's the second time you've drawn blood today, you furry devil!”
“Rawr,” Chubbers squeaked.
Torleif let out a long sigh. He had his fill of bear wrestling for the day. Walking back into his house, he retrieved his bow and arrows. It had been a long time since he had gone hunting – since before his capture by Olav's men. He decided to take Chubbers along. The cub will make a fine hunting companion, he thought.
He could not have been more wrong. Once Torleif found a good hunting location, about a mile from the village, he crouched down behind a tree and waited. Deer and other animals were known to ramble through this area, due to a nearby stream. Silently as possible, he scanned the tree line. Chubbers had other ideas.
The cub crashed through branches and made high-pitched squeals as he chased butterflies and field mice. Stern warnings from Torleif made no difference. After a couple of hours, the disappointed Norseman gave up the hunt. “Perhaps when your older,” he said.
The hunting trip wasn't a total loss, as Torleif was able to find a suitable boulder that could be used as a rune stone. He made a mental note of its location, then Chubbers happily followed him home.
Torleif woke up the next day in a much better mood. No bears were munching on his ear, and no large women of ill repute occupied his bed.
The first thing he thought of was the large rock he was going to use as a rune stone. He decided that today was the day he was going to start the project. He was quite sure that it would turn out to be the finest rune stone that anyone had ever seen.
After getting dressed, he washed his face – finally in a clean bowl of water. Torleif then walked to the community longhouse. Brynjar was sitting there delegating tasks and projects to other men in the village. Well, at least the new chieftain wasn't only picking on him.
Torleif quietly stood by until Brynjar finished his business. He overheard the chieftain telling two men about improvements he wanted made to the longhouse. After dismissing them, he turned to Torleif and said, “Ah, there's the ruffian! Come to beat up more of my villagers?”
“What are you talking about?” asked Torleif.
“I'm talking about Stein. I heard you gave him a pretty good thrashing yesterday.”
“Is that all? I think Stein should mind his own damn business.”
Brynjar grunted. “Now I can't have you going about, kicking people in the nuts all day long. Things like that will give a man a bad reputation. I'm afraid I'm going to have to fine you-”
“Now hold on!” interrupted Torleif. “Stein's rotten kids were throwing rocks at Chubbers. They hit him on the head pretty good, too. I went over to talk to Stein to settle the matter and he laughed at me. That's when I gave him a good thrashing.”
The chieftain furrowed his brow at Torleif as he considered his words. “Well that changes things, I suppose. Stein's wife stormed in this morning, raising hell. She demanded that I do something about the situation, but she never said anything about rocks or bears.”
“You know her kids are no better than vagrants.”
“Yes, I'm well aware.” Brynjar looked flustered. “Okay, then. Case closed. I was wondering what provoked you. According to Stein's wife, you attacked her husband for no reason at all.”
“Bah, their whole family is worthless.”
Trying his best to pretend that he didn't hear that, Brynjar asked, “So what brings you here today?”
“I found a suitable boulder for the rune stone. It's down by the stream, not too far from here. I'm going to need to borrow a couple of your oxen, and one or two men, if you can spare it.”
Brynjar looked impatiently around the longhouse. Not finding any men readily available, he said, “I've already handed out projects to all the men. Unfortunately we don't have-”
“I'll help Torleif.”
Startled, the two Norsemen looked behind them. It was Britta.
The chieftain waved off the matter. “Well, there you go. Another problem solved for old Brynjar.” He then turned his attention to other matters, as people from the village were queuing up to ask for favors and counseling.
Torleif turned to Britta. “Are you sure you want to do this? It will be hard work.”
“Anything to get me out of this damn longhouse,” she replied with a grin.
After getting two oxen and some rope from Brynjar's farm, Torleif and Britta made their way down an old dirt trail.
Trying to make pleasant conversation, Britta said, “I hear you knocked out Stein.”
Torleif grunted. “I can't seem to take a piss without the whole village hearing about it.”
“Well, you sure beat the piss out of Stein.” Britta offered a smile to the disgruntled Norseman.
“It's true,” was all he offered in return.
It was obvious that Torleif didn't want to talk about the matter. Changing the subject, Britta slyly looked at him and said, “Do you like the way I'm wearing my hair today?”
Torleif glanced at her and nodded. “It's good.”
“And do you like my new necklace?”
He looked at her necklace and saw that her shirt was unbuttoned down to her navel, revealing her cleavage. Torleif knew an opportunity when he saw it. He grabbed her arm and pulled her close to him. She willingly melted into his arms. Looking up, she parted her lips and waited for a kiss.
Torleif leaned in close to her and said, “Oh shit, the oxen!” The two bulls had wandered off down the trail. He ran after them, with a curious bulge sticking out of the front of his pants.
Britta stood there with her hands on her hips, shaking her head.
A few moments later, Torleif had the animals under control. They spent the remainder of the walk in awkward silence. Luckily, the rock that he had picked out was not far.
After walking another five minutes down the trail, they finally reached the stone. He tied the rope around the boulder as well as he could, and urged the oxen forward. The oxen strained as the rope pulled to nearly its breaking point.
“Stop!” he yelled. He threw another rope around the rock and tied it to the harness. “That should do it. Ya!” Slapping the oxen with his hand, the two beasts strained forward once again. This time the rock moved, but only a little.
Torleif stood there scratching his beard, trying to think of a way to get the rock out of the ground.
“I have an idea,” said Britta. She had a few small rocks in her hands. “Have the oxen pull the stone again.
Torleif did as asked, and urged the two bulls forward. As the oxen pulled the giant stone, it left a small gap in the earth where the stone was previously resting. Britta wedged the smaller rocks into the gap. Every time Torleif urged the oxen forward, Britta filled in the gap with more stones and sticks. The work was not easy, but after an hour, they finally worked the boulder loose.
He hitched the oxen to a large tree, then sat down under its shade. Britta joined him. They were both tired and perspiring.
“We make a good team,” she said.
“Where have I heard that before?” Torleif asked. Then, remembering when he threw up on his old girlfriend Ingebjorg, he laughed. “Oh right, the party.”
Britta turned to him and said. “I beat your old girlfriend in fair combat. That makes you mine, Torleif.”
He crinkled his brow and said, “What custom is that-”
Putting her finger on Torleif's lips, Britta shushed the pondering Norseman. “It's my custom,” she said, as she pressed her lips to his. They kissed deeply, passionately.
He unbuttoned her shirt and cupped his hands around her breasts, as she clasped his hands and pressed them harder against herself. She then removed her shirt and reached down to untie his pants.
Her necklace kept getting in the way, so she placed it in her pocket. Smiling at Torleif, she climbed onto him as they became one.
They made love for the rest of the afternoon.
Back at the village, Torleif stood in front of the giant stone and scratched his beard. As difficult as it was to transport the rock, it seemed even more difficult to think of a suitable engraving. He simply didn't know what to chisel onto the surface.
He managed to pull the rock all the way to the village yesterday, with the help of Brynjar's oxen. And with help from a few other villagers, Torleif was able to place the stone behind the longhouse. It was in plain sight for all to see, especially those approaching the village from the north.
“You picked a fine rock,” said Brynjar, as he walked up to the stone and touched its surface. The rock was taller than the chieftain.
“Yes, but for the life of me, I can't figure out what to chisel on the surface,” lamented Torleif.
“Well, you can carve a picture of Haldor fucking a goat, for all I care. That bastard had to get himself killed, and now my workload has doubled!”
“So, you don't like Haldor now?”
“Bah! All I'm saying, is that I was happier when all I had to worry about was tending to my animals. Now I have over a dozen people a day asking me for favors. Some ask for advice. Others want me to settle disputes. There are even villagers who want me to raid other villages.” Brynjar gave a sideways glance at Torleif.
“Speaking of which-”
“Don't even start with that,” interrupted Brynjar. “I have enough problems as it is. But if things go smoothly over the next few months, we can talk about raiding Olav's village. Until then, I don't want to hear about it.”
Torleif wasn't happy about it, but he kept his mouth shut. No reason to further antagonize the new village chieftain. Besides, their relationship was already strained, due to Brynjar's recent promotion. “I was thinking of chiseling a picture of Haldor riding a horse and holding a spear. I haven't come up with an inscription, yet.”
“By the time you finish the picture, I'm sure you will have thought of something to write by then.”
Picking the hammer and chisel, Torleif walked up to the stone and ran his hand over the surface. Deciding on a good spot, he set the chisel on the ruff surface of the rock and hammered away.
“Look at him go,” commented Brynjar. “Well, I'll leave you to it, then. If you need anything, let me know.” He slapped Torleif on the shoulder, then walked back into the longhouse.
Torleif worked on the stone for the rest of the day, showing very little progress. He couldn't believe how long it took just to smooth out a few square inches on the surface of the rock. It was boring, tedious, and up till this point, thankless. The only enjoyment he got out of the process was when Britta would walk out of the longhouse every couple of hours to offer him a cup of mead.
“I hear all this hammering, but the stone looks the same,” commented Britta.
“It's slow going,” admitted Torleif. “At this rate, it will take me the rest of the year to finish this damn thing.”
“I'm sure it will be wonderful,” she said, as she quickly kissed his cheek.
Torleif gave her a mischievous smile and swatted her bottom. “Back to the longhouse with you, woman. Can't you see that genius is at work here?”
She gave him a coy glance, then returned to the longhouse.
In the following weeks, Torleif found himself falling into a familiar routine. He would wake up, then head to the longhouse with Chubbers. After eating breakfast, usually served by Britta, he would start carving the stone.
Chubbers would run and play, as Torleif chiseled away. To keep the cub from wandering away, Torleif tied a mother goat to a tree, not far from the rune stone. The little cub wouldn't wander far, after that.
Carving the stone was a painfully slow process. Torleif developed blisters after the first day of using the hammer and chisel. After a couple of weeks, those blisters turned into hardened callouses.
In three weeks time, the rune stone was finally starting to take shape. He had a rough outline of Haldor riding a horse. Now all that was left was to refine the engraving, and decide upon an inscription.
“What is the drawing supposed to be, again?” asked Britta.
“It's Haldor riding a horse, see?” Torleif traced the image of the horse with his finger.
Britta turned her head sideways and squinted. “It looks like he's riding a goat.”
“No, those aren't horns, they're ears!” replied the flustered Norseman. “Besides, I haven't done the fine detail work, yet. You'll see.”
She got on the tips of her toes and gave him a kiss. “I'm sure it will be great.” Britta then hesitated for a moment, as if she wanted to tell him something important.
Torleif tried his best to ignore her. It was never good news when she got that look on her face.
Finally, she said, “My father says that he won't allow you to marry me unless you give him five goats for my dowry.”
“Five goats?” exclaimed Torleif. “Does he want the very halls of Asgard, as well?”
Britta frowned. “My dad says that if you can afford one goat for your mangy bear, you can afford five goats for me.”
“What? Where am I going to get five goats?”
Britta shrugged her small shoulders. “What can I do? I tried to talk him down to three goats, but he wouldn't hear of it.” She then leaned in close to Torleif, and said in a whisper, “I don't think he likes you.”
Torleif grunted. “No shit.” He then relaxed a bit. “Look, after we raid Olav's village, I'll have more than enough to pay for your dowry. It's just a matter of time. If Brynjar would stop dragging his heels, we would have already raided Olav's village and already be married!” He then whispered to her. “We could always leave this place and go to another village, you know. Heck, we could get a place of our own and live up in the mountains, like Toke.”
“I can't leave my family!” she complained.
Torleif looked sullen. He then nodded his head. “I know.”
After the fifth week of chiseling the rune stone, Torleif came to the conclusion that he was done. He was sick of working on the stone, and simply could not manage to work on it another day. So one evening after supper at the longhouse, he stood on his chair and called out, “I have an announcement to make. The rune stone is complete. If you would like to see it, come join me out behind the longhouse.”
