Frida

Chapter 20 - Judgement

Frida was very thankful that she did not stay at Helga and Floki's house for dinner, as she made her way along the coast on her way back to her home. The sun was already crawling down behind the western mountains, while black clouds were rolling in over the skies like a blanket above them, bringing with them a strong and icy wind. She smiled vastly when her eyes narrowed in on the small lights of her home in the distance, her muscles already aching from the repeating motion of rowing the small boat.

She had not left Ragnar intentionally not telling him where she was going, she had just rearranged her route home, not quite keeping up with the time.

Time...

It seemed to move so fast here in Kattegat. To her it felt like only yesterday that she for the first time praised the small lights of the village in the horizon, on the boat from Northumbria between broad strange Norsemen, but when she looked down on her growing belly bump, it showed something different.

It was apparent now, at all times, even in the thick woolen gown that she was wearing this night. It was a gift from Helga, and it was very beautiful. The fabric was very dark, as it had been weaved from the wool of a black sheep, while the chest piece was made with grey soft wool that had not been unraveled so no wind was to slip beneath the edges. Frida liked it very much, and she had thanked Helga so many times, wondering how she could return a gift alike. But even though she had made friends with Helga, she did not know what to give a woman like her.

Helga was very... natural. She was self-sufficient in every way, making her own clothes, growing her own crops, and using the products of the forest in ways that reminded Frida of her own mother.

A slight pain ran through her heart as she continued rowing towards the shore when she came to realize that had her mother lived in this part of the world, she would not have been burned for being good with herbs and flowers. She would have been applauded, like many applauded Helga.

Witchery is not a sin, Frida thought to herself as she pulled up the oars from the black sea water beneath her. It is a gift.

She remembered Lady Liofrun telling her that her mother always had had a thing for rabbits. Rabbit feet, meat, fur. And when Frida reached the wooden bridge of the shore, she finally knew what to give Helga, and she agreed with herself to pay Bjarni, the blacksmith, a visit when she had dined in the long-hall.

A necklace with a rabbit's foot would be perfect!

As she made her way across the village, through the market place and past the Seer's house, Frida was greeted repeatedly by villagers, and she smiled and waved back at them, relishing their sweet gestures. She was truthfully starting to feel like home here, more than she ever had in Northumbria.

And she loved the calmness of home.

When Frida opened the door to enter the long-hall however, her smile quickly faded.

There was a great commotion in there, a small crowd of people standing along the fire in the middle arguing loudly. Frida looked over to see many of the important people there, Rollo, Ragnar, Torstein, Lagertha, all of them, standing with deep carvings across their foreheads and dark eyes. She felt panic was over her, and she rushed over to the fire.

"It does not matter, Rollo," she heard Lagertha spit out while tossing a dry twig into the fire in frustration, "All that matters is that we take action, now."

Frida walked over to put a hand on Ragnar's shoulder. He was warming his hands at the fire, staring into it with a blank expression in his eyes, his lips curled downwards in something that reminded her of a snarl.