Warriors at Heart (The Last Kingdom Fanfic)

Chapter 1

His name is Uhtred of Bebbanburg, a fierce warrior. A respected man. A force to be reckoned with. He has written his own chronicle of his life and has since pressured me to. He likes to tease me that I am the better storyteller, but I am not entirely sure that is true. I like to think that I am the better warrior, though he finds fault with this. I digress.

His name is Uhtred of Bebbanburg, a fierce warrior, respected man, and force to reckoned with. I am Tara Melgaard, equally fierce warrior, respected woman, and truly a force to be reckoned with. Many a man have felt the wrath of my blade in their guts with my war cry as the last sound they ever heard before departing this earth. This is my story.

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I was raised by my father, Ivar Melgaard. He was a fierce warrior and sworn oathman to Earl Ragnar the Fearless. My father volunteered our family to move with the Earl Ragnar to the new land. Saxon infested land. My mother died when I was a small child giving birth to my brother, Ivar the younger, named of course after my father, as it has always been. My mother was a kind woman, though ferocious when needed. She retired her sword and shield when she met my father. The two of them fell in love at first sight on the battlefield. Their two clans were warring, but that did not stop them. They fled their homes and stumbled upon the great Earl Ragnar who having a kind heart, admitted them to his services and thus took my father, brother, and me with him to the new fertile land.

Earl Ragnar had a magnificent homestead build with a great hall for feasting and business to be conducted in. My father was given a parcel of land where we built our comfortable sized home and small garden. We were granted some livestock and a small pasture to graze them in. We were content. As a girl of nine, I was proficient in cooking, cleaning, and fighting. Everyday my father would spend about an hour training my brother and I in the art of combat. He taught us about shield walls and the best way to jab a man to his death. He taught us about different weapons and how to use each one. I found my favorite to be a battle axe. It was heavy but cut so beautifully through the air and flesh. I trained hard every day and was determined to become a great warrior like my father. My brother on the other hand found his interests in being a skald. I think he was a bit of a disappointment to our father, but being the good man, he was, our father never said an ill word of my brother's chosen interest. I think he secretly hoped time would change Little Ivar's mind.

It was a chilly day when Earl Ragnar came riding to our home. He was a frequent visitor and I happily greeted him and his son, Ragnar the younger. My brother took their horses and tied them to the fence, as I led them into our small abode. I sat them down at the table and poured the ale. Earl Ragnar thanked me and drank. My father strode in, wiping blood from his hands. He greeted Earl Ragnar and his son. I stared at young Ragnar who was a few years older than I. He had faced several shield walls and I aspired to do the same.

"We march at dawn," I heard Earl Ragnar telling my father.

"Yes Lord," my father responded, taking a seat at the table.

"I want to go too!" I said with as much fierceness as I could muster.

Earl Ragnar laughed and put a kind hand on my shoulder, "how old are you girl?"

"Nine, but I'll be ten soon," I smiled.

"I'm afraid you are too young, but one day, should you still wish, I will happily welcome you into my shield wall," Earl Ragnar said kindly.

I pouted and he laughed, congratulating my father on having such a lively daughter. The two talked more, but I grew bored of listening and went outside, where my brother was feeding the horses handfuls of grass.

"You shouldn't be doing that," I said sternly.

"You're not the boss of me," he retorted.

"Those are Earl Ragnar's horses," I replied.

"So?"

"You should ask permission before you feed them."

"Nah uh."

"Uh huh."

"No."

"Yes."

"I'm telling dad."

"Telling him what?" I snorted.

"You're being mean," my brother stomped his foot.

I laughed and soon a smile broke on his face. I held out my hand and he ran to my side, clutching it tightly in his. Off we went to collect eggs from the chickens.

That night I tried to convince our father to let me go to war with him, to which he continued to say no. I scowled. My brother was quite happy to stay home and kept saying he needed me to take care of him anyway. I rolled my eyes at him and received a stern warning from our father to be nice.

Dawn broke quick and we were standing outside in the chilly morning air with our father. He wore his thick fur cloak and had his trusty axe, Naegling, strapped to his side. I handed him a bundle of food I had prepped. He kissed my forehead and then ruffled my brother's hair. He mounted his horse and I handed him his shield, supposedly painted with Saxon blood, though I suspected it was sheep's blood.

"Take care of your brother."

"I will dad."

"There's enough meat and grain in our stores to last you two a while."

"I know dad."

"If you need anything, Lady Sigrid has said you may go to her for help," he assured me.

"We will be fine dad," I smiled.

He smiled back and looked at both of us once more before slowly riding away. We stood waving at his back, not knowing that this was to be the last time we would see him.