Frida

Chapter 9 - Gods

A man was walking towards her.

Shadows around his face made it impossible for her to see who he was, but she had a feeling of having met him before, a long time ago. He was holding a wooden instrument in his right hand on which two ravens sat, one of them looking at her and the other at the elderly man at its side.

Roaring wind deafened her yells. She wanted him to hurry, she wanted him by her side, as her deep solitude in the darkness stabbed at her flesh, leaving deep and bloody traces over her skin. The raven looking at her croaked that she should not fear, and when it spread its wings to fly over to her sit on her shoulder, tears swelled up in her eyes and a soothing warm sensation filled her stomach.

The old man came closer, and now she could see that he wore a long grey beard, and on top of his head sat a farmer's hat. She knew that when she finally would touch him, her life would be complete. She would doubt no more, never question his actions, and she would finally reach her home. But he was just still too far away.

A sudden ray of light flashed across the skies above them, causing both ravens to fly up flurriedly, and she caught a glimpse of the old man's face.

Shock washed over her as she saw that he only had one eye, and that eye was like an icy blue crystal, piercing right into her soul.

Frida woke up.

She flew up on the bed and chaotically looked around to see where she was. She was sweating, as if she'd just ran a hundred miles, and her heart beat acted likewise. She was still in Ragnar's bed, but she was alone in his room, and she could tell by the way the sun light shone through the sole window at the Eastern wall that it was close to mid-day.

While her blood was still rushing, she dressed herself silently in the same dress from yesterday before peeping out through a crack in the door to see if anyone was out in the hall.

Perfect, she thought when she did not see nor hear anyone, and she tiptoed quickly around the corner before peeping into the long-hall, which she annoyingly had to pass before being able to leave the house.

She had to get some air, she had to wash the dream off herself, and she did not wish to speak to anyone before doing so, especially not Ragnar. But to her great dismay, the long-hall was not empty. Around the longtable sat more than ten Norsemen including both Ragnar, Floki, Rollo, Torstein, and others whose names she could not remember.

She heard Lagertha's voice ring out as she gulped down. It sounded like she was angry, but Frida did not have the time to find out why.

She just wanted out.

Panic flushed over her when she saw one of the servants coming her way, and without thinking she entered the long-hall with her blood racing through her veins and her eyes locked on the ground. Lagertha's voice quickly died down as Frida made her way across the room, but Frida was determined on her path, and she did not stop to greet the Vikings at the table. She felt Ragnar's eyes on her, but she had not yet the courage to gaze into them as her strange dream was still too fresh in her memory, the old man's blue eye still burning in the back of her head.

When she finally reached outside, she started running. She flew past several wooden houses, villagers and animals, with only one thought in her mind: She had to reach the forest, and she did not stop for anything or anyone on her way there.

She crashed herself through the bushes and only stopped when she felt the shadows of the big tree crowns upon her skin. She threw herself on the ground while panting heavily, a slender pain throbbing at her temples because of last night's drinking.

The forest was very silent.

She could only hear the sounds of small birds chirping above her and a quiet wet gurgling from a small stream that ran across the lush forest floor nearby. The clean water of the stream did wonders. She filled her stomach with it and also sprayed it over her face as her breathing stabilized. This was exactly what she needed.

"What on Earth is so urgent out here?" she heard a male voice speak out behind her.

Frida quickly turned around and realized the English-speaker Athelstan had followed her. He had very different features compared to the rest of the villagers, and she had wondered to herself if he really was Viking, but his clothes and hair looked so Norse that she had pushed that thought out of her head again.

Frida shrugged her shoulders before looking down on her hands that were already colored by the black soil that she was sitting on.

"I'm Athelstan," he spoke, and she looked up to see him reaching out his hand at her.

She mumbled out her name while shaking hands with him, and he sat down on a rock close to her.

"Are you alright?" he asked humbly.

She furrowed her brows at him. This man was indeed different than the others, she could tell by his air. She nodded before looking into the stream again, the water gurgling happily past them.

"I, uh," she chirped, "I had a sort of nightmare. I think."

When Athelstan did not answer she looked up to see him smiling at her, questioningly.

She cleared her throat before she continued: "In my dream, I saw an old man with only one eye. He just frightened me, I guess."

"Really?" Athelstan persisted, an intrigued tone to his voice.

Frida gazed up at him with her brows furrowing once more. A heartwarming smile spread across Athelstan's lips before he looked out over the dark green vegetation surrounding them.

"And what did this old man do to frighten you?" he asked.

Frida inhaled deeply while closing her eyes. He had not really done anything in her dream to upset her, it had been the fear of not reaching him that had scared her. And the strong resemblance of his one eye with Ragnar's blue crystals.

Athelstan's warm voice sounded once more: "Has Ragnar told you anything about the Norse gods yet?"

Frida shook her head. All she thought she knew about their religion was that it was strongly connected with the forces of nature. She felt Athelstan's hand on her shoulder.

"Come," he said, "and I'll tell you what I know about Odin, the All-father."

Somehow, her thoughts immediately raced back to the moment in which she'd looked into Ragnar's eyes for the first time, back at the church of her village in Northumbria. She rose to her feet before curiously following Athelstan back towards the village.

Odin, she thought to herself, What do you want with me?