3 comments/ 7709 views/ 6 favorites The Solstice By: Von Hauffen Note to readers: This is a work of historical fiction. It contains what some may consider intense, violent or otherwise taboo subject matter. It is not an attempt to be historically accurate, nor to portray any specific culture or person from the past; but perhaps readers may find some scenes both familiar and enjoyable all the same. As always, thank you for reading my work. - Von Hauffen. ***** Characters of Note Gerda: A widow returned to her people; fóstra (foster- mother) to Agilard and others Agilard: An orphaned boy; now young warrior Cyneswith: A friend to Agilard; wife to the warrior, Stuf Gibuldus: A Druid Stuf: Agilard's oath-sworn friend *Baldr: A god of light and purity *Frejya: A goddess of light, love, sexuality, fertility ***** The Solstice Chapter One It was not like her to rise after the dawn of a new day. So, just like any other, she was up and outside her makeshift shelter: a wagon with leather hides stretched across to keep her life's belonging safe, and another that draped down its rear and sides to permit a semblance of privacy. The others had much more permanent places to call home; structures that made them feel less the wandering people that they were. But she was not like them. She knew that this day would be like no other in her life thus far. For today she would pass from the realm of the living: to Odin's Underworld. A sacrifice to Baldr and all that her people held sacred. Her "people." They were no longer her people. In less than eight summers, they were all strangers now. She had returned from a banishment to actual strangers and now been rejected by those whom she thought she knew. She despised the sense of uselessness, of hopelessness that had crept over her the past three days and nights. Never in her life had she not woke each day with so many things to do; hardly rested from the previous day's work. And what was more: it was she who had always helped the other women take care of their families as well - having never been blessed with a child of her own. Even her husbands had left no issues behind in order to carry on their names and deeds. She was - had been - the youngest sister of a former chief and the widow of two brave warriors slain in battle; but that in itself held little status amongst her people. Her brother had given her protection with his wives and children, but now that they were all gone - dead or with families of their own - she meant nothing to any one at all. And should that surprise me? I am getting long in the tooth and barren as well. Never included in the most beautiful of any people I called my own. What man would choose me now, when all I am is a husk? What man would I even accept into my heart that would take me in as a mere slave to his kin at my age? She spent the rest of the fleeting darkness tending to her beast of burden: an old shaggy cow that had been with her for as long as she had been away. Seven Summer Solstices at least. A dowry from her new husband, a man she had never seen before that day. The beast, tied to a nearby tree, nuzzled against her shoulder as she fed it dried hay. It was female just like her, thin with age and many years of traveling but it still had so much time left to prove her own usefulness in this world. "If only I were a man, I would be able to prove my own worth," she said to the beast gently. "They won't even give me the chance." The beast stopped chewing and swiped its large tongue against her hand, tried to reach the side of her face before she stepped away with a reluctant smile. "Don't worry," she said in her soothing voice again. "You'll be taken care of for sure. You're a much too valuable maiden, aren't you?" The animal liked the sound of her voice and went back to eating. Ignored its mistress as she brushed tangles from its hide and tail, made sure its cloven hooves were still clear of debris. The woman patted the beast on the side and headed deeper into the woods to relieve herself, and then made her way to the swimming hole that was furthest away from the camp. The smell of the forest and the sounds of insects surrounded her everywhere. She took in the sights and scents as if they might be her last; for she knew that was more than likely how it would be. The sun had risen on the horizon, causing an orange glow and a mist to form on the pond. She heard voices in the distance, but knew she was hidden by the tall reeds. It was so warm and muggy already, and even the night before had been sticky. After slipping off her long tunic and pressing the mud between her toes, she caught sight of her reflection in the pool. The face staring back at her was hard after the past few weeks, but not entirely without beauty. Her eyes had a weary look to them, not the overly friendly tone that brought children running with open arms and loosened the tongues of complete strangers. The lips had a more permanent downward curve than she remembered from the last time she had cared to examine herself so closely. Altogether she was simply older, with the lines of a woman that had toiled every day for near forty summers at least. Stronger jaw than many of the smaller women: those women with the broad hips and the full breasts that seemed to drop children every other season it seemed. But if anything surprised her, it was the shape of her own body now. Never soft to begin with since she was always on the move, it was now more than lean. Only the sculpt of her muscles and the sharp angles of her bones remained. Nothing shapely or comforting that a man could ever want again. She splashed into the water and then dipped below the surface to shatter the image; lifted her head and watched dragonflies racing by. The water felt so clean, so invigorating. She felt instantly that it was not meant for a woman who was preparing to part from the mortal world. She hadn't slept at all really. Mindful of what this day would hold, but even more fearful of what the next life had in store for a woman such as her. Would her first husband, the love of her youth - the boy to whom she had given her maidenhood and her heart with no reservations - would he be the one waiting for her on the other side? With his long golden-brown hair, much like hers, and the eyes that still made her heart heavy at the very thought of him? Their time together had been so short. Would it be her second husband? The one who was nearly thrice her age, but so very kind. They had had three years together at least, before his sword was returned to her and their home of orphaned charges. Or would it be the last and third husband, the one who had recently taken his own life so as not to burden his people any longer, but had given no thought to her? Did the Gods allow a man to spill his own blood in shame and then receive his kin in the afterlife? And what of a man who had not seen to even tell his wife of seven years what he had planned to do? To have to be told by another that your husband had crossed the Bridge without even saying goodbye or expressing what he wanted of you... She had always been strong for everyone around her in their time of need. Yet where were even one of them now that her own time had come? Feeling the tears gathering at her eyes, she quickly dipped beneath water again and stayed under long enough to feel they were forever washed away. When she came up, she heard voices a little closer now. And a small boy laughing. Her heart broke for him. Having only been among her former people for three very short days, she didn't know his entire tale. Only that he had the "empty mind" and laughed at both everything and nothing. His mother had died moons ago, but his father was an honored thane and elder until just recently. Until he had died in battle during the Eostre raids. And now the boy had no one to protect him. Or at least no one that would take him in permanently. She knew the people would allow someone to do it if they really wanted, for she had been one of those in the past. She had taken it upon herself, much to her brother's wives' hostility, to care for many orphaned children. Some for just a few months until they came of age, others for many seasons until the Gods claimed them or they proved their worth on their own. Fifteen children she had saved and raised with her husband, and then even her brother's reluctant protection. The number matched the years between the death of her first husband and being given to her final one of a distant but not unfriendly people similar to her own. Ten children had grown to become people of their own, only the last two was she forced to leave behind with years still ahead to grow. Oh, how she had worried incessantly about their fates in the earliest months: a boy and a girl, both left parentless at younger even than the laughing boy. Did they grow in peace? Did the girl with the fiery red curls find herself a husband and family at last? Was the boy a strong man now, even if a very young one, protecting his own kin? Or had they been dragged out as an offering to Baldr just as she was about to be? Perhaps one or both of them would be there waiting to greet her across the Bridge. Of course her own parents and ancestors may as well, but she could not even recall their faces now. The thought that someone who had loved her more recently would be waiting was the only thing that made things easier for her; especially during those times when she fell into the deepest pit of despair. "It is all good, Brusi," she heard a woman say with a heavy heart "We must look our best for our trip today. You are such a good boy." The boy giggled and splashed in the water somewhere amongst the reeds. He sputtered and choked and even then didn't stop laughing. Gerda fighting a battle within herself, wanting the boy who probably understood nothing anyway, to not be afraid; to think that this was just another day. Yet she also hated herself for feeling resentful of not having that one loved one, not even one friend to offer her those same meaningless but reassuring words. You are not one for self-pity, she said to herself, concentrating on washing everything very, very quietly. You will have plenty of time for that tonight. And who knows? Maybe there will be nothing anyway. And you will never even know that either. Then you will have made it through this world without ever having felt that pity that so many seem to hold so dear. She waited until she heard the pair leave, heard the boy's giggling and the woman's soothing voice get farther away. All the while she floated on her back, with her long hair all around her, breasts and knees and face the only things breaking the surface entirely. She floated there long after they had left, until she heard boisterous voices and the sounds of hundreds of people waking entirely. The sky was absolutely beautiful: a clear blue, with little wispy clouds drifting by endlessly. Perhaps that was a good sign. Perhaps the gods were letting her know that they would be waiting, even if she had no one else to greet her as her own. ***** Having donned her nicest dress, even braiding her hair like she had many years before, adorning herself with the precious necklace her father had given her when she was a babe, and the dark fur boots she had traded for just a few days earlier for some trinkets and a small but elegant blade, she went about eating her breakfast alone. Dark, hard bread with some tough, salted meat, and a little beer from her dead husband's traveling skin. It wouldn't last the day, which was something she had never allowed to happen in all her years of caring for her man or many orphaned children. But now, it wouldn't matter anyway. The days of being so meticulous and concerned about everything, from her appearance to the greased wheels of her wagon had certainly passed. "You," she heard a man say suddenly, a certain unease in his voice. She looked up to see a wiry young man of about twenty, long yellow hair pulled back and mustaches plaited, approaching from the main camp. "I am Gerda," she said, standing and deftly stowing all the utilities of her meager meal quickly. "Yes, yes. You must return with me," he said, trying to avoid her intense stare directly. "Veliefr has sent for you." Gerda blinked, suddenly feeling her mouth turn dry. She knew enough not to question him; he was already blooded in battle with rings on one hand and a jagged purple scar on his bare chest. She looked back at her things, her entire life, and wanted to ask what would become of it, but she knew he would know nothing, and tell her even less. Following him through the camp, she felt eyes on her, just like when she had joined her husband's people, what now seemed a lifetime ago. More recently, she had felt the same stare when just three days past she had literally stumbled with her wagon and possessions upon their vast camp. It had been three weeks since she had seen anyone but a lone hunter and two traders from the strange ones to the south; these same stares were what had greeted her when she had arrived. And she knew right then it had been a mistake. She never should have returned. The camp itself was already in the business of readying for another move. Where they would head next would be decided by the chieftains and elders after the Solstice was passed. Then the entire people would set out as one big rambling horde until they found another place at least as hospitable as this last one. Gerda had arrived right at the start of those preparations which would be over completely in ten or eleven days. Not enough time for the leaders to be concerned over a lone woman and her wagon. Veliefr was actually a distant cousin of some sort, and of all the elders who had decided her case, at least he'd had some semblance of sympathy for her plight. But it was far too much too allow even the slightest bit of hope that something good might come out of this meeting. His wife was younger than she was herself - both of them were in fact - and their small children were running around the thatched structure they called home. None of them minded her or the man with her at all really. The wife glanced momentarily before she went back to cooking. If that were my family, they would be fed and bathed already, she thought to herself dryly just before being shown into the home. The warrior left completely, just as soon as Veliefr had acknowledged the other man's duty complete. Clearly, the young elder had never imagined that she would arrive so quickly and so appealing to the eyes. It had not been her intention to look as beautiful as she did while standing at the entrance. Had she just woken, like his wife and the others, she wouldn't have had the time to be so alert was all. She knew that was the only thing that could have possibly made him stare. "Have you found a husband?" he asked abruptly, turning away when he heard his wife chiding a child outside. Clearly he knew the answer already, so why had he even asked? Gerda shook her head softly but didn't lower her eyes. She saw little reason in being overly submissive to this stranger. It was her life on its way out, not his. Veliefr said nothing, just sat down with his legs folded under him and sharpened his knife as if to pass the time. He made no move to invite her to join him on the floor, and while Gerda thought it incredibly rude for him to sit at all so soon into the meeting, she was much more concerned about his lack of words. She didn't hide her eyes as she let them roam all over the place; taking in bedding and food and the many leather bags and wooden trunks full of all the myriads of life's necessities. She felt him looking at her again, trying not to it seemed; saw him swallow when he took in the shape of her body. Gerda crossed her arms across her chest almost defiantly. A moment later a hulking man entered the structure, lowering his head and blinking from the lack of natural light. She stepped aside to allow him more room, but didn't cow to him either. Every man she had seen since returning had looked at her with either scorn or morbid curiosity. Why should this one be any different? "Married to a Ubii were you?" the man asked gruffly, after trying to stare her down. She could barely see him with his shape blocking the light from the entrance. What she saw didn't impress her. He was going to waste, getting too fat. It wouldn't be much time before he found himself being clubbed to death at a Solstice too, she thought. "Yes. But I was married to a man of this tribe when I was young. I am one of your sisters too." "No children? Barren are you?" Gerda's mouth went dry again, tightened at the corners, but she refused to look away. "The Gods work in ways that do not always make sense to mortal men. Or women." The man started to spit, realized he was inside an elder's tent, even if he was a young elder at that. He was quiet for a few moments, but had no reservations about looking at her very feminine form standing only a few hand lengths in front of him. He turned to Veliefr and nodded. "And what will I get out of this?" he asked. The other man frowned, glanced from his knife to the woman standing in front of them, completing their triangle. "The woman is all you will get. Nothing more." The man clenched his jaw and looked back at Gerda again. Saw the spirit in her eyes. A spirit that may take time to break. Yet her body... "It is done." He looked at her and let a smile twitch his dirty mustaches. "Bring your things and I will decide what you keep. My other wives will keep what they want first." He turned to leave, satisfied with his own generosity. But Gerda spoke, knowing the words would mean her life. "No. I will not go with you." The man stopped, already crouching at the entrance and turned to face them both. "What is this I hear? No?" She didn't need to look at the elder to know he was not going to intervene. It meant nothing to him. He wanted nothing more than to be free from the whole ordeal. "No. I am no longer a maiden. I will not be given away by a man who knows nothing about me and means nothing to me. And I will never bow to another wife." She turned her face and stared at the elder who was still slowly sharpening his blade. "The Elders will decide what become of my things. Not you." The man spat that time; it landed between Veliefr and Gerda audibly. She was a little amused that the elder simply ignored it. The beast wasn't finished though. "You brought me here to insult me? Is that it?" he growled. "Trying to pawn off the tribe's troubles on me, so you won't be blood-guilty? Thank the Gods you're on your knees or I'd kill you and send you both on your way." Veliefr sighed, but when he raised his eyes even Gerda saw that they had changed. For the next few moments, she wondered if she were about to see men fight and bleed right before her eyes, but then the man at the entrance turned and stormed away. Not two moments later, Veliefr's wife entered, a fierce, desperate look in her eyes. But seeing the expression on her husband's face, still seated on the floor with his knife, made her glare at Gerda instead. She retreated just as quickly and the left them alone again. "Sit down, sister," Veliefr finally said. When she did so, folding her legs beneath her so that only her boots were showing, he put his knife and stone aside. "Sister -" "My name is Gerda. I was born with these people before you. And I remember you from when you were a boy." He closed his eyes for a few moments and then looked at her directly. The Solstice "There are no men who will take you in. I tried to convince the others to just let you leave, but they say that the Gods have clearly sent you back to us for some reason. They are afraid to offend them, especially with the Sun at its crossing. And we are moving on again very soon. A woman must have the protection of a -" "Yes, yes. I know all of this. Three days to find a husband: an impossibility even if I had breasts and a womb like Frejya herself! That, not only will I slow you down, but I am also useless - despite having raised a dozen warriors for this tribe and half as many maids as well. Surely I must also be bringing death in my wake. Baldr is coming to claim me, is that not so? What would you have done, had I run off in the night? Hunted me down like a bear? No: a sow more like." She felt the tears clouding her eyes and struggled to maintain her dignity by clenching her fists at her sides. The young elder looked down at his empty hands, reeling from the onslaught of words and the acute awareness that the image of her standing above him like that would haunt him for the rest of his days. He finally composed himself and sighed deeply. "Some of us were hoping you would have done just that. Now you have left us no choice." He stood abruptly and called for someone from outside. It was the man that had escorted her earlier, as well as an accomplice this time. Gerda suddenly felt her heart race, every muscle strain. The tears she hadn't had a chance to wipe away started to stream down her face. "Can I not return to my things? Say goodbye to my," she started to choke, realizing she had no one but her beast. "To my last companion in life?" "Yes," he responded, but reluctantly. "But don't try to run. Or it may go as you said." He turned his back to her and placed his chin in his hand, as if it were he that was being condemned to this fate. The men let her take her time walking back to her wagon, ignored the whispering as much as she did the entire way. When she arrived, she wished she had never asked to come back that way at all. A group of women were already sorting through her life noisily. They had the decency to stop and step away from the wagon to let her through, but none that held any of her possessions made any effort to return even a one. One tall girl with red hair stood clutching Gerda's old wedding dress greedily. Gerda ignored them all and went directly to her beast. The animal was clearly stressed from all the strangers picking through her things; and she noticed an old man and a small dirty boy waiting some distance apart with some ropes in their hands: no doubt for her poor old maiden to take her away. She hadn't wept until she saw them standing there, but when her girl nudged her like always and reached her tongue to her cheek, Gerda couldn't stop herself, or deprive that last attempt of affection she would probably ever receive. The men looked away awkwardly and the women moved a few feet, but not so far as to lose their place in the order of things. And when she was done, she kissed the beast on the nose and ran her fingers through the long hairs on its head one last time. "It's all fine... They'll take good care of you. You really are such a good girl, you ornery thing." That seemed to make things better. Not just for the beast, but for Gerda as well. She walked over to the man and the boy anyway. "If you so much as harm a hair on her body, I swear to Oden himself I will come back to rip you and all of yours to shreds: and take you right back with me." The man turned white, if that were possible for a man so wrinkled and leathery. The boy just looked up at her with the utmost fear in his eyes. She looked down at him and was about to pat him on the head, but he flinched, and so she crouched down close enough for him to hear. "You make sure nothing happens to her too. And I will send you something wonderful from across the Bridge." The boy nodded, tried to smile but faltered almost instantly. She stood straight and made a wide berth around her old life. "Enough of this," she said to her escorts. "Let's be on our way." Chapter Two The festival would officially begin at midday, when the sun passed directly overhead. From that moment on the year would begin to die. It was the day Baldr Himself had been sacrificed. But his sacrifice wasn't in vain. He was reborn on the shortest day of the year, at Jul, and brought with him the assurance that life would always go on. Traders from other tribes would arrive at this Summer Solstice the same as Winter, and the better the sacrifice now, the better year to be had by all in the months to come. It was a matter of fact that these things occurred. Had she been a staple to the tribe already, and not have found a husband by the time they migrated, waiting for a Solstice would not even have been necessary. She would have been surrounded by women and clocked on the head from behind. And then the things from her life would have been divided up between those who were most needy. Those with husbands and families that could ensure their survival until their time arrived as well. Gerda herself had only once attended to a seer-priestess who had no one else on a day such as this though. Helped adorn her hair and trim her nails, keep her company until the moment arrived. That experience had been different. Even with the woman being a relative outsider, just passing through, the people still gathered around to say goodbye when she had emerged from the darkness of the hut. Only in the final minutes, when the few chosen led her away, did the others leave her be. And after it was done, the priestess had all of her most cherished possessions laid into the wrap along side her body; although Gerda had not been there to see that either. She only attended the final rites of those that had been sacrificed that Solstice and wept in a sad joy at their parting. No ceremony for Gerda though. No loved ones to keep her company during that final hour. And now she knew that not one thing that she had kept so carefully all of those years would even be given to her for the other side. Her hand grasped the pendant at her throat suddenly. Would she be allowed to keep that even? Or would someone be so bold as to pick it from her corpse, seeing that it was gold and silver and amethyst? Gerda sat inside a large wooden hall that had been built for the festival. It was something that could be stripped down and taken with them when it was all over and the people, as a mass exodus, decided to move again. She wondered during those final hours, why they needed to move at all. Why didn't everyone just stay where they were and make a permanent home? None of the wisest, oldest members could tell her why; none of them had any idea either. It seemed to be a tradition passed down from the ages that only the Gods could fathom why. There were five others there, along with an attendant or two. Two women and a man who still looked well enough to walk, just not walk very far. Only the man's head of hair had turned entirely white; the women still had some of their younger color and beauty. It was the way of things though, and if they could not be useful at all times and had no one to offer complete sustenance and protection, they chose to take this path instead. Most men, warriors all, simply tossed their lives away in battle one last time. Or else they went someplace to die at their own hands. Like Gerda's husband. Only usually they told their own families. A closer look showed that the man's left side had the lame sickness. Even his right hand clawed and grasped to keep his beard dry and his trousers from getting wrinkled and dirty. He wanted to look his best for whomever awaited across the Bridge. The two women both had two attendants a piece braiding their hair much like Gerda had done herself painstakingly that morning. One attendant was a girl, maybe not in the bloom of womanhood yet, and she wept silently and spent most of the time hugging the older woman from the side. The fourth was a man who was clearly in pain. And he had a sweet sickly smell to him that caught whenever the air circled the hall a certain way. A fever perhaps made him sweat even more, as it was very warm inside the place, but not that warm to leave everything so damp as that. A strong, virile man sat with him, trying to make the man laugh. It seemed it was more to keep the attendant sane than his friend laying on all that soft bedding. The little laughing boy was there, rounding out the fifth. His face and blond hair were already spotted and dirty. The sad, tired looking woman that was with him was letting him play in the dirt and thrushes wherever he pleased. He was in his own little world, only looking up now and again at anyone that would watch: to see him smacking his small hands and grabbing at things only he was imagining. His eyes met Gerda's and she smiled even before he did. The boy let out such a delightful giggle and went right back to playing, even pounding his head with a stick until it would certainly have been bruised had he survived the day. The woman started gasping and looked as if she were about to be sick. So Gerda got up and cautiously approached, afraid of being rejected in her final moments yet again. "I can sit with him if you need to get away..." The woman looked at her first as if she hadn't realized anyone else was even there, and then with such relief that she actually shuddered. She stood and hugged Gerda firmly. But before she had a chance to respond in kind, the woman rushed out and left her and the boy behind. There was a small commotion fairly close outside, from the sounds of things. Gerda wondered if the woman was being told to come back in and see the boy through to the end or something. But the voices were men, more than two or three. One of them was shouting in frustration and everyone inside listened attentively. Only the little boy kept laughing and pounding his head against the ground. He turned once and tried to bite Gerda on one thick bearskin boot before rolling his eyes and drooling. The voices died down, but for a brief moment, Gerda thought she had heard her name. Insanity, she thought. Hopes and dreams that are just trying to trick me in the end. She realized after many minutes that the woman who belonged to the boy was not coming back at all. And now, instead of being able to prepare herself mentally, she was forced to focus on him entirely. He tried to stand, no doubt getting hot and hungry after all of this time. How could he not be when she felt the same way? The others all had something or someone to attend to them. But Gerda and the boy were left alone and wanting for the time being. Even then, the boy didn't cry. He simply plopped back down and sat silently if anything. After a few minutes of rocking back and forth with her hand in his hair, he went right back to playing and pounding things on his head. One of the old women sent some soft bread and a skin of water with her attendant. All Gerda could do was smile weakly and wave back at the woman, both of them now trying not to cry. I hate myself for this. I have never felt this way! Not even when ... when Asulf died. I was so young and so stunned, but I knew my life was still protected. That I was still useful to someone... to everyone. I had my life ahead of me. And then my old Nanthild... you at least left me the means to carry for the children and not be a burden to my brother and his family. Through all those years of watching children grow and hoping beyond hope that another man would take the chance and claim me as a first wife, as I should always have been... I had that knowledge that maybe someday I alone could grew and nurture a mortal babe inside my own body... Even during that time of living amongst strangers who cared nothing for me, and a husband who thought little more of me than a servant, who resented me because he feared my brother enough not to take a younger wife of his own choosing. During none of that did I despair. During no time did I curse the Gods or wish my life forfeit in their eyes. And now? Look at me... I have made it to the end without anyone so much as shedding a tear. And for what? To see another unwanted life thrown away... The horns blowing in the distance and the rising cheers of the gathered crowds partaking in the festivities broke her away from her own misery. The boy started to laugh excitedly; he didn't understand when she held his little arm and kept him from trying to leave. Oh the Gods forgive me, she thought. I can't remember your name! So much like me... so much like me. No one to even remember my name. My name is Gerda! Please, don't forget me... "It will be fine, baby," she said, voice much calmer than she expected. "You are always such a good boy." And just the tone of it made the little one stop struggling. He turned around and smiled again, surprising her by touching her face, even if it was a bit too hard and suddenly. And then he went back to playing on the ground and laughing whenever he heard the drums beating and the horns calling. ***** It meant the sun was now past midday. While everyone was celebrating, praying, partaking in food and drink and dancing: the sacrifices could officially begin. And normally they wanted those sent well on their way so that everyone could rest in the knowledge that Baldr was satisfied and even those chosen for the final moments could go back to the festivities. Everyone tensed when shadows walked passed the entrance: at least a dozen of them. This was something else she knew happened, although the people she had been with most recently never held captives or criminals for a Solstice offering. They simply executed them as they wished, offering to which ever God warranted it at the time. Large tribes could do that; they could make their own pacts with the Gods and not risk losing everything. Gerda was glad it had only been bread and water she had shared most recently. Had she eaten anything else, she certainly would have lost it all in a most undignified way. She thanked the Gods again that the boy knew nothing of his fate. It was suddenly so hot that she felt the sweat trickling down her back, down between her breasts, plastering her hair and braides to the side of her face. I want this over with now! Not another moment of this... Please!" And no sooner than the thought was completed, then a Priestess and her attendants arrived. They carried a small bowl with the ritual red paint already mixed inside. Gerda averted her eyes forever it seemed, until the Priestess stood before her and the boy. "Brusi," the old woman said in her crooning voice, and the boy looked up with a smile and a nervous laugh. "Take this symbol to the afterlife. Be reborn with Baldr... with a strong heart and a new mind." The woman crouched with the help of her attendants and painted a small dot on the boy's forehead, surrounded it with a large circle. And then she did the same on his bare stomach as well. He thought it a wonderful game and they made no move to stop him from smearing the stuff all over his body and giggling. Gerda steadied her breathing and waited to hear her name, but the woman, who had stood up and now was directly before her said nothing. Looking up, Gerda finally met the old woman's eyes. And she saw only kindness and sympathy spilling forth from them. She felt her lip quiver and closed her eyes tight before the tears broke loose again. "Gerda, of our people... Take this symbol to the afterlife. Be reborn with Baldr... in whatever manner you decide." The words made her open her eyes suddenly, having expected to lose whatever part of herself was still remaining. She thought to be reborn, if that was even a possibility, just like the little boy: a new mind and heart, a new body with no memory of this past life. But what was right for Brusi was not right for Gerda. The Priestess made sure she understood that now. The woman painted the symbol on her forehead, and so as to maintain her dignity, one of the attendants held out Gerda's dress enough so the woman could crouch underneath and do the same on her own belly. All three of the women then smiled at her as peacefully as they could and left the structure completely. Hardly a moment later and a thane in ritual paint, designs spiraling across his chest and face, stepped inside. He looked frightful, but his voice was very deep and kind. "My brothers and sisters... It is time." He motioned toward the entrance and not a one of the victims hesitated. Only a few of the attendants faltered and hung back. Gerda knew that was how she must have looked all those years age, helping her old dear friend through her final moments. She stood and picked up the boy, who didn't struggle, simply laid his head against her shoulder and put his thumb between his teeth. He was asleep almost before the small line made it into the bright light of the midday sun. They all walked silently, except for the man who was already almost dead. He was carried on his bedding of soft furs by four others in ritual paint. Before they all parted and headed in separate directions, some distance from the ongoing festivities, Gerda saw one of the thanes hand the sickest man a knife with a bleached-bone blade. He tried to say something to his bearer and the other man leaned down, listened and laughed boisterously. She averted her eyes when she saw them lay the bedding down and stand silently. Moments later, her steps faltering and the sun baking everything so hot and bright, as if the entire world were about to be set unto flames, Gerda was led into a clearing where a number of women waited. They wore their hair unadorned and tangled, clearly unwashed, and their faces were painted: half red and half white so none would be known even had she had the will to scrutinize more closely. The warrior who had told them it was time, he stepped forward and touched the boy on his face; a touch so gentle for a man so strong. The little one stirred and instead of crying or being startled, simply rolled his eyes and blinked from the sun. He laughed nervously as the man took him from Gerda's arms. When they walked away she could see the mark of her arm and fingers across the poor thing's shoulder and back. Before she had chance to react to them disappearing into the brush at all, one of the women spoke gently but firmly from the far side of the clearing. "You should kneel, Sister. It will go easier on everyone." They were all alone in the clearing then: Gerda and a half dozen women, all with short clubs half as thick as that warrior's arms. For the first time in many years, she offered a prayer to the Mother Goddess: not for her, but any children she had known; for poor Brusi, and the two perfect orphans she had left behind; for the unborn children she had never had the chance to nurture and grow. She took the hem of her dress in trembling hands and gathered it about her knees so that when she knelt it wouldn't be soiled beyond repair. And that was the thought that she intended to take with her across the Bridge to the Underworld. The Summer sun was suddenly dimmed as one of the women stepped over her, blocking its light. But just as the rest of them took that last final step, they all hesitated upon hearing the same commotion that had occurred outside the hall earlier that day. Men arguing, clearly almost coming to blows. "Oh, just give me that blade and I'll do it myself!" Gerda almost yelled. The Solstice "Gerda!" a man's voice yelled frantically from the brush, having heard her clearly. "Gerda! Please, Great Baldr, no!" A young man stumbled into the clearing and shoved not one, but two stunned women aside. He had a blade sheathed at his waist, but had not removed it: only the priests or chosen could hold a weapon until sundown this day, so as not to offend the Gods and remind them how their hero Sigurd had been slain in treachery. The young warrior fell to his knees in front of her and stared into her eyes. And they were the eyes of the boy she had left behind. The orphan she had raised for nine or ten summers from little more than a babe. The one who had wept and followed her and her new husband's wagon, while carrying his little blade and his leather bag until he had collapsed in a heap. She looked at those bright blue orbs with the even lighter specks of green, the same that his real mother had no doubt named him for, and she knew it was him. "Agilard? My Bright Little Boy?" she asked, pressing her hands to both sides of his strong face, covered with the beginnings of soft blond hairs, but still smooth as a babe underneath. She completely forgot where she was or why she was there that day. The boy - the young man - held her arms firmly and closed his eyes to let his own tears fall freely. He jerked in surprise when he saw one strike upon her dress, tightly wrapped around her knees. Three thanes crashed through the brush and looked at the scene. Without hesitating, one of them moved to pull the young man to his feet and another was about to shove Gerda away. But before the last man grabbed a cudgel from a woman, Agilard interrupted everything. "This is my wife!" the young man yelled confidently. It was the voice of a man who had already seen battle; one who had caused undulations of fear in the enemy with that very same growl. "I claim Gerda of our people as my wife!" He did not wait for the others to either consent or intervene, but simply stood and pulled Gerda to her feet. And then he half carried her back the way he came. Chapter Three Gerda clung to Agilard with every last bit of her strength. Is this real? she thought to herself. Or is this how the Crossing begins? Do the Gods make some secret unknown dream come true just as that last moment of life ends? If this was a dream, then she should be young again, should she not? And what of the murmuring and staring, the shouting following them but not standing in their way? Being taller than the average woman herself, she looked sidelong into her champion's face. He was concentrating intently on leading her somewhere safe no doubt, but when he felt her looking at him she saw him starting to turn as red as when the sun slips behind the horizon for the night. So strong, so powerful, so intent to see this through, whatever it was he had just managed to do. Her mind couldn't even reach that far yet; all she could think of was that someone still cared enough to want her to live. As the last of the small but curious crowd parted in front of them, she saw a small rough-timber hut, all smeared with clay and a cooking fire right outside. It was much farther away from the main camp than other dwellings, as if he also live on the outskirts of the tribe. He led the two of them to the entrance and held her right hand with both of his, high over their heads, until she had to almost stretch onto her toes. "I am the blood-warrior Agilard, the hero of the U'natha clash," he announced in the same clear tone that brooked no argument. "I claim this woman as mine for all my days. This woman and no other! Her name is Gerda. And she is of our people." Then he led her quickly inside the hut and let the thin leather flap close behind them. It was dark but much cooler inside, and it took a few minutes for their eyes to adjust. Until that time, they kneeled on the floor facing one another and just stared into each other's eyes. He took her hands and placed them against his cheeks again, just like before, while he placed his own against her thighs, gripping them tight. "I am sorry," he said throatily. "I tried to come sooner. By the Gods how I've tried!" His eyes started to fill with tears again and Gerda found her thumbs wiping them away before they could spill. "Ssshhh," she said, in the soothing whisper she had used on her orphans over the years. "You have me now..." "Yes," he said eagerly, his eyes brightening and face suddenly ten years younger again. "But... Only if you agree. I want you to be free. I love you, but I want you to be happy..." Gerda blinked, not ever certain that she could fathom everything that was taking place. Even having heard him announce it twice in no uncertain terms, it hadn't begun to sink in until this moment as she stared deeply into his eyes. "Will you be my ... my wife? Will you accept my protection for the rest of my days?" She licked her lips, felt as if she could hardly breathe, knew her heart would surely burst forth from her chest at any moment. "Yes," she whispered, not even loud enough for her to hear over the din outside. He smiled that same boyish grin, only now on a grown man's face. "And I will be your... I will belong to you again?" "Yes," she said without hesitation this time, holding his face between her hands even tighter. "For the rest of my days..." He couldn't help himself as the feelings of relief and joy overcame him; climbed fully to his knees and grasped her so tight she could scarcely breathe. And feeling that wonderful energy, surely sent to them by the Gods themselves, Gerda responded in like kind. She smiled and held him so that he knew she would never again leave him behind. But then things changed subtly: in Gerda even before Agilard himself. Perhaps it was the effect of the past few days, the emotions held back like a wild stallion with reigns, or perhaps it was her longing to just be loved and needed again. She knew, that for at least this moment, her prayers had been answered. Without thinking, her mouth searched for his, tasting the tears from both of them. The deep groan that her man - her young husband - let out, set both of them aflame. Frantically they grasped at each other every place they possibly could. Both had the unquenchable need to be closer than any other man and woman had ever been since the age when the Gods walked and talked with Men. Gerda was prepared to lift her dress, to simply lay on her back on his soft bedding and let him take whatever he desired. But that wasn't enough for her man, nor was it his way. He pulled the dress up and over her, revealing soft breasts and a taut, if not too thin body beneath. His eyes focused on the ritual symbol still painted on her skin, and then he traced it with strong fingers without a sliver of fear. She watched in awe as this beautiful boy turned man, half stood before her and stripped his trousers and tunic away, laughing in frustration and begging silently for her to help remove his boots as well. Once he was revealed to her completely - smooth, muscular, so hard just for her - he crawled onto the bedding between her legs and lifted them with both hands to inspect everything. Only a sliver of light shone through the leather flap, but it was far more than enough for both of them to see anything they desired. The look of hunger in his eyes made her body shudder of its own mind. Gerda just watched as her husband ran his hands up and down her legs, getting always closer to the place that she was afraid had been cursed for all time. He must have sensed that, being so, so attentive to the expressions flickering across her face. She almost pleaded with her eyes for him not to go any further. Not to damn himself right along with her. Like Asulf her first, and Nanthild, or even the last whom she dared not even speak his name. Should this beautiful boy, now certainly a man in every way, go down that path, she would never forgive herself. But she wanted and needed this so terribly bad, especially after today. "You are finally mine," he whispered in that assertive voice again. "I will never let you go again." And then his mouth was between her legs, right at that accursed place, making her cry out in blissful despair. It had been so long since she had been touched at all, but to be loved and needed like this was something she had forgotten entirely. Gerda found herself almost fighting the foreign pleasures spiraling away from his tongue and lips in waves that sent her mind and body reeling. "Oh, how I've missed you... my little bright-eyed boy," she moaned, using the name she had called him when he was young. Jerking her head up with widening eyes and hand clamped across her mouth at the shock of it, she peered down at him, afraid not only that her words had offended him but also the Gods in some way. The look in her young husband's eyes, the only thing other than that mess of long, tangled hair that she could see from between her legs, told her that he was anything but offended or shamed. His mouth worked even more feverishly and his strong hands folded her legs back to make sure he was able to reach every last part of her hidden place. Gerda tossed her head back into the furs and felt the explosion burst through her entire body, but especially those spots where his lips kissed so eagerly and his hands gripped her tight. Only the throbbing tips of her breasts came close to rivaling the sheer pleasure she felt from below. And even those ached so terribly to be kissed now in the very same way. Gasping and whimpering, almost on the verge of tears again, she watched as Agilard, her wonderful boy, removed her boots one by one and very carefully placed them aside. She thought that very amusing: him taking the time to set them neatly beside the bedding and not toss them away as if they were nothing to him. But before she could contemplate anything else so mundane as that, her husband let her legs fall loosely around his waist, then he moved atop her and entered her gently but firmly... making her his wife completely. She cried out, surprised more than either of them that she felt like a maiden again. It had been very long, but not so long as that, she thought. And once again, she wondered if this truly was the Afterlife, and she had been reborn in some fashion. It frightened her at first, expecting to relive those pains she had remembered from years past; but she need not have worried about this husband. For he took his time, even savoring the slowness of it all. Her beautiful Agilard hovered above her on outstretched arms, using as much of his manhood as he could, but no more than would do any harm. And he watched her face with such love and yearning that it made her want to cry out in joy. Thank you Mother Goddess! Thank you! And like one more gift from the Goddess, Gerda felt her very depths part enough to capture anything and everything her husband desired to give. She cried out with the sudden fullness of it all, the bliss of being one with not just a man, but a man she could truly love. And she knew that she could love this man because she already did. Even if he had been just a boy. Gerda couldn't bear another moment of his body away from hers. She pulled him against her and wrapped arms and legs so tight, so he could never get away. His mouth found hers again and their tongues fought the same battle as below. When she felt his hands slide around her shoulders and up behind her, to cradle her head like a babe, the waves of pleasure coursed through her once again. The moments turned to minutes and her husband did not rush; he spent as long as he could working her back into that same state of rapture again. Oh, my Goddess, she thought, feeling even her fingers and toes taut due to his youthful energy - with his undeniable love. Thank you! Thank you... I love you both more than my own life! Gerda felt her beautiful Agilard using his entire length, gently but eagerly, clearly trying to make it last. Just like her, he was no doubt afraid that this dream would very soon come to its end. But she needed it all. She needed to feel his love flooding her very depths. "Love me, my Little Agilard," she groaned his ear. "Love me!" She felt more than heard the growl that started from deep within him. And at nearly the same moment, she found the entire hut flooded with the light of the Summer Solstice outside. Whether on purpose or not, Agilard had reached above her head to the entrance and ripped the flap away, so now anyone could witness that Gerda of their people was now his wife. And they were out there too. She turned her head on its end and looked at them to see a world now upside down and rocking. Saw a few stunned faces peering back at her at the very same time her young husband gave her everything of his love. These lovers, husband and wife, man and woman, both gasped as their pleasure took them over the edge completely. And that outside world was forgotten to them both: Solstice Sun shining in, to the noises of the celebrations all around. All Gerda could focus on now, was her Agilard's mouth over hers and his seed coursing through her body, his strong hands holding her head: protecting her from everyone... Even the Gods it seemed. Chapter Four The wife and husband lay still in each other's arms for a very long time. Both of them had their own thoughts to unravel, their own prayers to say. And neither of them wanted this Solstice to ever end. "Are you hungry... Gerda?" he finally asked softly. He whispered her name again almost too low for her to hear. "Gerda... Wife." She felt her heart lift until it was hard to breathe. When he was a boy, he would never ask when the meal was to be served. He would always ask if she were hungry, letting her know that he in fact was, to see if just by chance she had been too busy and not feel shame for having nothing ready. "I am," she smiled with a whisper in return. "Agilard...My husband. My bright-eyed boy." His eyes widened and his cheeks turned red just like before. "I love you," he said, pressing his lips all over her face and making her laugh. "You and only you for so long..." He covered her mouth with his, gathering her thin body in his arms and pressing his hardness against her. She had forgotten what it was like to be truly desired. And to be with a man as young as he. "But... I am still hungry, Husband," she said between kisses, more to see his reaction than anything. Agilard sat up quickly and looked as if he had made some great trespass. "I am sorry! I... I forgot so quickly." "Yes," she said with a wink winking, reaching for his hardness and wanting it all again just as much as he did. "I can see how easily you still forget things." The face swung away almost bashfully. The manhood turned to the strongest iron within her grasp. "I will get us something," her husband said quickly, about to crawl out of the dwelling for all to see. She reached out and squeezed his forearm, preventing his escape. "You are still forgetting something, are you not?" Flustered, the young warrior shook his head and laughed nervously. Grabbed his trousers and pulled them on quickly, but nothing more. He kissed her once, then twice, then a third time before he rushed away. She heard him in the distance shouting for food and drink in that same confident voice. Gerda lay quietly for a minute, listening to the people not far away, the roar of a crowd enjoying some mock battle of chosen champions or something. The light from the summer sun warmed the entire dwelling and allowed her to see everything inside, including her own body. Not young and firm like his, she thought. Hardly a soft woman's body at all after her recent ordeal of traveling for days all alone. Nonetheless, he certainly had failed to notice. The thought of his handsome young face between her legs made her heart race again. She sat up and saw that this place certainly needed a woman's hand. A wife's hand. In her mind she was already adding up a hundred things that would have to be done to make it the home she needed for her husband and man. He would need his boots mended and his scabbard repaired. The kit beside his water-skin was at least very new. It was not of their people; more like something the foreigners to the south that marched as one preferred, rather than the smaller things she was used to. His many thick leather tunics and even a short chain-mail skirt need oiling and polishing. She would need help with the latter, having never seen such a thing up close. At least she would not need to touch the axes or sword. Those were a man's private things. She turned to the other side and noticed something of interest. Hesitant at first, she lifted the flap on the small oaken box half buried beneath the furs she sat on; its lid carved with little symbols and protective charms. Her breath caught at the sight of little silver coins in the dozens and rough gold pieces. Even a few unpolished colorful stones, like the one she wore around her neck. Last of all, there were a trio of little wicker dolls. A man, a boy and another that could have been a woman, but was now so fragile it almost fell apart without even picking it up entirely. When she saw it, she instantly thought of a family. Something she knew he would never have now. He would rue this day before long. In her very bones, she knew that had she managed to give her last husband the sons he wanted so dearly, then he would almost surely still be alive this day and she would never have even returned to her Agilard. She thought of the other man and felt her jaw set and her stomach tighten. The man was no burden to the tribe, except for in his mind. That is why they chased me from my home after he crossed the Bridge alone. If I confess that to my Agilard, he too may fear my very presence in his life. The thought that it could all end so quickly and in so much misery made her wrap her arms around her knees, rock back and forth like a child herself. She knew then that this was no dream. Only life could make a person doubt everyone and everything. The husband entered the small dwelling with two bowls piled high with roasted boar and small white onions; hot dark bread, soft and thick with gravy; and from his pocket and retrieved a handful of juicy blackberries: some a bit too juicy now. He saw the little open box and that the wicker doll had been moved. Instead of being angry or closing the lid, he took the fragile doll out and placed it in her hand. "I don't need this any longer, Gerda," he said in a low and soothing voice. I have you back again." The emotions of the day - of the very weeks leading up to that moment - made her lose control. She wept, with her boy's arms suddenly holding her tight; holding her as if he were the father and she were just a little girl again. Gasping and sputtering, wallowing in that self-pity she thought she would never have to face in this mortal world, she shook her head and refused to even look at him. "I can not allow this!" she cried. "I am nothing but misery! I am death and the coming of Baldr! And... my husbands would rather die than spend their lives with me! Die!" "Gerda!" the young man cried. And not being able to snap her out of it, he stroked her long hair and held her face like she had done; made her look at him with swollen eyes. "Gerda... I would rather die than spend another day without you! You are my woman, my wife, my... my mother... And your life now rests in my hands: just as mine rests again in yours."