Maiden - by Wilder Grey

Sea Farer

I stare at the water, endlessly reaching in all directions.

It is a deep blue, almost black, and there is a mist that has risen above the water and created a curtain around the boat, gently brushing my face with little droplets of salt water.

I push back my long, dark red hair from my cheek and turn from being hypnotized by the lapping, frothy waves that hit against the sides of the vessel I stood upon.

I watched as men pushed and worked the oars on the sides of the boat.

We were headed home after weeks of being away, we who wished to bring riches to our families and clan. We had been through many rough days and nights of sailing, but the treasures we have gathered from our travels is much worth it.

Salt, lots of salt loaded on board in large barrels, ground flour and preserved meats and, of course, gold and fine jewelry from the lands we traveled.

We were sorely in need of some salt to help preserve more of our own food so we could wait until the ice thawed enough after winter to get back out onto the water to get more.

Heavy footsteps cluttered the deck behind me, and I looked up to see my Faðir (father), Arne, standing behind me and looking at me, his dark blue eyes shadowing his emotions as always.

" You've done better this time. You fought hard, my Dóttir (daughter)," he said in his deep, rough voice.

I closed my eyes and smiled faintly. he could never outright say that he was proud of me. He was callous, and it was hard to please him. I could bend until I snapped in half, and it would never be enough for him.

He could never embrace me when I was a child as a normal Faðir would; instead, he would tell me to deal with my devils and stand tall. Physical signs of affection had been non-existent in my lifetime. All I had were vague memories of comfort and love, but that was all before my Móðir (mother) had passed to the afterlife.

Because only cowards showed their true emotions.

This was our way of bonding, if you could call it that- fighting and sailing together.

Before Móðir died, we would all spend time together- my Móðir, Faðir and my little Bróðir (brother), Snorre. They would play games with us and tell us stories of their past, and of our ancestors.

But then she died, and he seemed almost incapable of loving.

He poured himself into taking care of the cattle and sheep, and hunting in the wood and barren lands and going on long trips to trade and plunder villages and towns. He never spoke to me. He never acknowledged me.

That is, until I was thirteen.

That's when I decided to be a shield maiden, that I wanted to take part in more than just the chores around home. I wanted to fight for what I needed, I wanted to earn my keep with more than what was expected of me.

I wanted to make my Faðir proud.

"Aye! Ahead is the green turf of our homelands! Prepare for the landing docks!" One man called out with excitement lacing his voice.

Faðir stared at me for a moment blankly, then aptly walked to the far side of the vessel where the man was and began to speak to him, and I began to roll up some of the soft animal skins that had been used during the night.

"Sig!"

I jumped and dropped the skins that I had been rolling and looked back at my best friend, Ivar, who was chuckling heavily.

"Ha. I finally got you, and I wasn't even trying," he smirked.

"You almost had me there," I grunted, not wanting to admit that he really had startled me.