The sunset’s rosy hue bled into the fjord’s frosty glacial ice caps. Ragnarr watched as a large flock of puffins cawed in the sky above his drekkar, several young pufflings were struggling to control their wings. A blue whale and her calf leisurely travelled below his war-ship, the mother accidentally bumping the hull, releasing a cacophony of creaks and groans. Patting the outer-edge of the craft affectionately, he only chuckled, before reassuring his men that the ships would all survive the rest of the distance back to their village. It had been a torturously long raid after all. I don’t blame my men one bit. His thoughts soon drowned out the excited hollers of his comrades.
The past year had been spent seafaring new, uncharted waters - all for the sole purpose to find wives. Their humble village had been struck with a plague while the men were on another raid, leaving the women and children to fend for themselves that winter. When the warriors returned again in the spring, the damages resulting from the plague had been so great that only twenty-four young women remained out of the total 68. Those lasses survived only due to their incredible willpower and physical conditions. Even though they survived, it did not mean they weren’t affected. Only seven of those twenty-four women could still have children, the rest rendered barren after having their wombs expelled from their bodies. Even he, a hardened warrior, could not bear to think about the gore and excruciating pain that must have caused. Worse than a Blood Eagle… Shaking his head, he still shuddered at the remembrance of being forced to observe Blood Eagle being carried out.
The sound of tinkling bells brought Ragnarr’s men out of their homesick reverie - the chanting halted. All eyes turn as a beautiful woman sensuously makes her way on deck, her golden bangles clinking with every subtle movement. She picks her way like a feline. Every male on board is now standing outside, waiting for the drums to begin beating, the atmosphere filled with the buzz of excitement.
The woman’s hands slide into position, sharply flicking upwards after three counts. Aye, that’s the signal.
Boom.... boom… boom… The deep bass of the drums begins her dance. Hips swaying slowly, she sweeps her eyes across the room before picking her target. This time, the victim is an adolescent boy who has yet to gain experience with women. Weaving her way through the crowd, she steps her way to the boy who’s blush deepens to a beetroot red. The boy’s father laughs as he slaps his son’s back before whispering words of wisdom in his ear.
Looking away from the commotion, Ragnarr opted to take in the resounding beauty of his homeland. The ocean was a royal-blue hue, a perfect reflection of the sapphire skies. Sunlight was beaming onto the open water, leaving sparkles through the rippling waves. A calming breeze blew through his long, blonde hair - a few braids sporadically decorated the messy mane.
Much of the excitement from earlier forgotten, Ragnarr’s men returned to their duties. Many were swiftly rowing, their grunts and straining arms all synchronized to the steady hum bum of the lead drums. Their group of seven drekkars glided over the silky water, ensuring a quick return to their homeland.
What the men were really excited about was the bride-auctioning ceremony that would take place directly after their celebratory feast in the village tonight. It was an event every unmarried man looked forward to, even the ones who did not join the raiding company were allowed to participate. While the men and women feasted, their thralls rounded up every female captive from the previous raid, buttering them up to be auctioned off later that night in the Great Hall. These women would be wives, as well as maids to the men who bought them - a good bargain, if anything. In fact, many of his warriors have already made claims on which lass they desired, the past year on ships together almost like a testing session for the soon-to-be couples.
Harsh treatment in the beginning has broken the resolve of almost every female they have captured - all except for one, a lass who would not open her mouth and speak. Illr (evil) is what the men called her, for the menacing way she could handle weapons. Illr sent seventeen of perfectly capable men to Valhalla when Odin’s warriors attempted to capture her from her homeland in the far east. There has never been a more frightening female that Ragnarr has seen in his lifetime, nor one that has appealed to him so much. However, he could not get carried away with his attraction to the girl, as he was already promised a bride for when he returned.
Muffled sobs and shuffles grew louder as one of the men led a chain of women out onto the deck. The steel cuffs had rubbed the ankles of each woman raw, festering wounds occasionally peeked out behind the thick confinements. Solid chains connected everyone together, each prisoner also were gifted a steel ball to keep them anchored to the ground. With every step, the wood boards under their feet creaked and groaned under the pressure. Soon, it abruptly stopped as every woman was outdoors, revelling in their limited time in the sunlight. They would be paraded around like objects for the whole village to see.
Just in time, one man spotted their fortress. Shouting the signal, a great horn was quickly hoisted out on deck. As chanting began once more, Ragnarr strided over to the horn, raised his arm, and then promptly swung down - the start gesture has been signalled. Immediately, a deep rumbling sound emitted from the opening of the horn, shaking the drekkars, as well as the blue oceans surrounding them.
Their return has been announced.
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