Frida

Chapter 4 - Alone

When Ragnar told her that there still was a long way to the destined place called Kattegat, she had never imagined how long of a distance he was talking about. But as the sail continued to flutter above her head, Frida's strength grew weaker and weaker.

If she turned her eyes to the sea, the endless miles and miles of open sea, she immediately started crying. She felt like 'Kattegat' was an imaginary place, like they maybe had chosen the wrong route at some point, and now they were just sailing into a great openness of nothing. If she, however, turned her eyes to the inside of the boat, she felt like crying too.

Never in her life had she come across men like these; they were as hard-working as any mother would take pride in, as stubborn as any father would regard with envy, and as outwardly disgusting as any savage would wrinkle their nose at.

She had seen Christian men being tossed off the boat, lifeless and stone cold, when their faith had left them. She had seen men relieving themselves off the railing, if it was not from one end of their body, it was from the other. And she had seen them rowing with a look of never ending determination across their faces.

She wondered what kind of kingdom awaited her on the other side of the ocean. Would there be castles, kings and queens like in England? Would their land be filled with lush greens? She stared at a red bearded Norseman who was sleeping soundly, resting his back on the mast, hugging his axe tightly.

Probably not, she thought to herself, Why would they then have felt the need to travel such a long way for mere gold?

Frida felt another rush of damp warmth spread between her legs, and she frowned deeply as she clasped her legs tighter together. This was the first time in many months that she had bled, and she wondered why her body suddenly showed signs of fertility again, out here on the sea, with very little food and drink, and where it was almost impossible to wash yourself up without having hundreds of male eyes clinging to you.

She could smell her own filthy body, especially now that blood was clotting between her legs, and she felt embarrassed and impatient about her situation. She could do nothing but wait. She was a prisoner.

Frida felt like crawling into herself as she saw Ragnar making his way down from the high pole on the mast, and she scooted herself farther down under her big fur when he closed the distance between them and sat down beside her.

"We will reach Kattegat in a few days," he calmly stated as if it had not been days since they last had exchanged words.

Frida did not answer him.

She had not spoken since Floki had silenced her. She felt tears of relief wetting her cheeks, but she made no move to hide them. Her courage was almost broken. She felt his eyes trying to grasp hers, but she turned her face away from him, away from his piercing blue stares and his curling lips.

"I have answered your question, now you owe me an answer to mine."

"Frida," she shivered, still looking away, avoiding the warm sensation that she always got when his eyes were on her.

She felt his hand quickly stroking the fabric covering her head before he got up and left her alone again.

Alone, she thought, Never had she been this alone.

...

A loud thunder slashed the heavens above them, waking Frida from the restless sleep she had fallen in, and she quickly discovered that her surroundings had changed remarkably.

The boats were still encircled by water, but it was very dark and heavy drops of rain were soaking everything and everyone on the boats. The dark grey clouds were quickly lit as a bolt of lightning reached down to touch the waves, followed by an enormous thunder growling angrily. She heard Floki's demonic laughter behind her, and she looked up to see him reaching up towards the skies at the front of the boat, yelling out in Norse.

Even though she was sleep deprived, Frida felt the need to stand up too, suddenly more awake than she had ever been since she got on the boat. The rain felt good on her skin, cold, clinging and fresh, and she smiled for the first time in what felt like ages as her knees did not give in from the sudden weight as she got up on her feet.

Another lightning and thunder had her jump nervously, and the uneasy movements of the boat made her grasp the railing not to fall. She felt like energy poured into her as another lightning crossed the sky, and she heard herself laugh out as she was almost knocked down to the wooden planks beneath her that creaked and croaked because of the harshness of the angry sea beneath them.

"Girl!"

Big hands grabbed her shoulders, but before they could pull her down, she quickly untangled herself from their grip. She laughed out at the owner of the big hands and she saw that it was the same bearlike man who had killed Gotfried that now tried to save her from being tossed to the sea. But she had never felt more alive.

She launched herself closer to the front of the boat, and she heard Floki scream manically: "Thor!"

Frida positioned herself just below Floki, her face turned upwards to feel hard rain drops almost dig into her skin, and that was when she noticed the small lights across the waves.

Could it be true... Were they... Had they reached Kattegat?

The too familiar warm sensation filled her stomach as she realized that the lights were coming closer and closer, and she joined Floki in his celebration. She almost did not notice the Norsemen behind her yelling out too, laughing, while quickly working to get the sail down so they would have control over their speeding vessel.

"Thor!" Floki cried once more, now sentimental, before he looked down to squeeze his eyes at her, and then turned to woo out once more to the village that only came closer and closer. Frida could not wait to place her feet upon solid land again.