The Skabelse

A One Legged Man

Warning: Some PG-13 Language ahead

A meaty hand clamped over Bjorn's mouth before he could get someone's attention. The man's hand tasted of sweat and grime that assaulted Bjorn's senses. Instinctively, he bit down and the taste of blood filled his mouth as well.

The man cussed under his breath but refrained from taking his hand away until he was pleased with the distance from the camp as they made it to a small clearing. Then, in one swift movement, he tossed Bjorn to the ground and placed his heavy foot on his throat.

Bjorn had to strain to keep the man from crushing his windpipe as he placed one hand on the man's heal and the other in the ball of his foot.

To his left, he could hear Hvitserk struggling as well and had managed to get a string of curses out before his attacker slammed the sole of his boot on his face, knocking him out cold. Bjorn cringed as he imagined his pain, knowing that his nose was probably broken. He looked back up to the man and secretly hoped he would not do the same, considering his nose was still healing from being broken from his Gladeswoman.

"Hvitserk!" he tried to call, but it came out raspy and strained from the pressure on his throat.

The men let out a low and sinister chuckle and Bjorn knew immediately who his assailant was.

"What do you want?" he asked through gritted teeth.

He saw Rollo's dark silhouette cross his arms before he removed his foot from the Rorik's throat.

"I told you that day in the Bannered Lion, after you insulted me, that this wasn't over."

Bjorn would have rolled his eyes if he knew Rollo could see it, but from the little light the moon offered, there was a slim chance. Can a man really be so trifling?!

"Well if you brought me all the way out here for an apology, I'm sorry to disappoint," he retorted, not bothering to hide his amusement from his tone. He knew that that wasn't the real reason for his seizure, but he couldn't help but to humor himself.

"Apologies are for the weak and don't mean shite to me. I came for something else," Rollo replied, already losing his patience. He could feel the men that joined him growing restless as they awaited to see what their Earl would do and he didn't want to disappoint.

Bjorn cocked an eyebrow, not being able to resist, "And I thought you fancied women..." he trailed off. He knew if Hvitserk were conscious he would either be in fear for what would happen next or in stitches from laughter. Given it's Hvitserk, whose famous for not being able to take a situation seriously, it'd probably be the latter.

The Bluegardes mumbled and some even snickered at what he was implying, not able to help themselves.

One low growl and a dangerous glare from Rollo shut them up.

As he looked back down at the boy, he could not help but to respect him as he reminded him of his younger self many years ago.

"As I told you at the tavern, the last man who insulted me wound up being gutted with a white hot blade."

Bjorn narrowed his eyes and pushed himself off of the ground, not bothering to brush himself off. "If you wish to kill me then why do you still plan to fight tomorrow? Do not tell me it's because of our High Kings and Queens either as you have made it know you have no fealty to them. I do not think you realize that once I am dead, you'd have at least two kingdoms after your blood? My men would never stop until your tribe is wiped out," he said, pausing, "Do not take this as cowardice as I do not fear death. I've looked at it straight in the eyes many times and will gladly greet him with open arms when it's my time. I am only saying this because tomorrow is an important day in our history and I wish to see then end of all this."

It was true, Bjorn did not fear death or Rollo's wrath and he would gladly face him again, but only after he could witness the demise of the Brotherhood.

Rollo pursed his lips, realizing that he had not thought his plan through. He knew that the boy was right, that if he took his life, the Roriks would not stop until they had his and his men's. He had only agreed to fight for the history that would follow. When centuries would pass and his bones would be dust, and wanted his name to remembered. Weighing his options, he decided about what he cared about most.

"Don't listen to the Rorik! Kill him!" Rou shouted, raising his fist into the air.

Rollo raised a hand, demanding him to be silent. "Leave us," he said, not taking his eyes off of Bjorn's green ones.

"What of the other boy?" Rou asked, nudging Hvitserk with his foot. Bjorn glowered at the brute as he hated anyone disrespecting his friends, conscious or not.

"Leave him be," Rollo replied.

To Bjorn's surprise, none of the Bluegardes replied, not even a mutter of dissatisfaction left their lips and he noticed for the first time how much they respected their Earl.

Once the area was clear, Rollo opened his mouth, his tone still deep, "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right," he said, before stepping forward and swiftly snatching a small blade from his waist. Pressing it to Bjorn's throat, he continued through clenched teeth. "But do not think you have escaped from me so easily, Bjorn. Your day will come."

Bjorn's lips pressed together into a thin line once more as he studied Rollo's face. The pale moonlight casted jagged and long shadows over his face and cheek bones, causing him to look almost demonic. His lips were curled over his teeth and his eyes were menacing. He didn't like being threatened, and in any other circumstances he would settle right then and there, but he knew that there were other matters that was more important that a tavern squabble at hand.

Letting out a slow breath, he nodded, causing the cold sharp blade to scrape against his throat. "And what of your men? Will they honor your word?"

Rollo removed the dagger from Bjorn's throat and slipped it into his waistband. "You have my word."

Bjorn fought a scoff but gave him a curt nod and watched the Earl disappear into the edge of the trees as he made his way back to his tent.

A low moan to his left brought his attention to his friend who was sitting up and pinching his nose.

"Are you okay?" Bjorn asked, squatting down next to him.

Hvitserk nodded and sucked in a deep breath before setting his nose back into place. "Damn it..." he muttered under his breath. "What the hell happened?' he asked, looking around at the empty clearing.

Bjorn sighed and filled him in as best he could, from refreshing his memory about the Bannered Lion to Rollo giving him his word. Once he was done, Hvitserk to let out another slew of curses.

"A Bluegardes word is as useless as a one legged man in an arse kicking contest," he spat as Bjorn stood up and offered him his hand.

Bjorn chuckled and shrugged, "Only one way to find out." A cold breeze blew through the clearing, sending an involuntary shiver up his spine. "Come on, let's get back to camp."

The two Roriks quickly navigated their way back to the camp, stepping over branches and tripping in the darkness. As the fires came into view, they agreed to not speak of what happened until necessary and quietly slipped into their tents.

As Bjorn fastened the leather ties, he heard Rowan yawn.

"What took you so long?" she asked in a sleepy voice.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," Bjorn said, turning around as he began to remove his boots and armor.

Rowan shook her head in the darkness and closed her eyes, already forgetting her question. "You didn't," she said, lying.

By the time Bjorn was finished getting dressed, Rowan had already fallen back to sleep.

He slipped under the heavy down covers and scooted as close as he could behind Rowan, pressing his body against her as it brought him both comfort and warmth. Throwing an arm over her waist, he quickly fell asleep.

Again, sorry for the boring chapter, but I needed it for later plans. The next few chapters is going to be crazy though, I promise ;p (and probably super long)