Northlands Saga 0: Spears in the Ice

Ulfarr knows this moment is an important one. The look of the sky at dawn foretells the day, and wise folk know how to read those clouds and colors. It pains him to turn back, but his reunion will have to wait. It will give him more time to contemplate what he will say. This last thought almost makes him rush forward, to avoid that torture.

"You did not offer your name," he says to the warden, turning easily at the man's touch. "Nor did I ask for it. Forgive me that, and this intrusion. An old friend of mine is present in the Jarl's hall, and I was..."

The young man's words drift off as he heads back to the entrance with the huscarl. "I have traveled far, as I said, and am anxious to meet the Jarl and his trusted warriors. No matter if I wait another hour for it."

Ulf has never seen such a procession, so many warriors gathered in one place, and armed, returning from some exploit.

His back straightens and he comes to stand next to Frodi, doing his best to avoid looking weary and worn from his time on the road. He stays his voice, as he knows it will be best to allow the Jarl himself to begin this conversation.

Ulf's eyes are on the Jarl as he approaches, and he waits for the right moment, the eye-contact and the recognition, the nod that will mark the right time to speak up.

It does not come.

Instead there's that chill, and perhaps stares from a number of the northron chieftain's men. Ulfarr steps to the side when Frodi subtly suggests he make way, then he watches the procession pass. He knows not of what transpired between Olaf Henrikson and his father, but the strapping youth finds himself wishing that he'd pried more out of his pa. Or perhaps his mother.

In that moment, when backs are turned, it also strikes the young man as strange that there is no acknowledgement of his presence, and this both irks him and moves his tongue.

"Jarl," he calls out, trying to get the man's attention. "I am Ulfarr, son of Vidar. I have come to pledge my axe."

The tension in Ulfarr's mailed shoulders ebbs when the Jarl suddenly invites him in, and he allows himself a smile and a nod as the leader of Silvermeade Hall drinks deeply from a horn. He is too awestruck by the big man to make much note of those formerly buzzing bees, but there will be time later to sort out who is pleased by the Jarl's reaction... and who is not.

"Aye," is all the traveler can manage to say as he starts forward, wondering just what lies ahead of him, in this hall and beyond...

Deep down, Ulf knew he would be out of his depth in a place like Silvermeade. As a boy he roamed field and ruin, valley and mountaintop. Never has he seen a hall like this one, let alone been in one, or been called upon by a famed Jarl beneath its rafters. The chuckles and smiles at his expense are not lost on him, but he cannot begin to understand them. Guarding the Jarl's own daughters as they gather flowers for a grand feast -- is that not a duty the young northman should be proud of?

The glint in the Jarl's eyes, and the steel in Astrid's make the youth think otherwise, though he does not comprehend why.

In this moment, his first among these people he has beseeched with his presence, Ulfarr can do nothing more than fall back on the lessons he has been taught by his father and his mother, as well as the hard ones by his half-brother. He holds Astrid's glance as long as he dares, but when he feels his pulse quicken he looks back at Jarl Henrikson and approaches closer.

"I will do as you bid, Jarl," Ulf says, acceding. Realization on how humble a task this is begins to dawn on the boy as he struggles to think of what might threaten the maidens, but it does not show on his face. Too, he is weary, hungry and thirsty, but says nothing of this.

"I will take them to the meadow and there watch 'oer them. I will keep them safe, Jarl."

Naïve he might be, but Ulfarr does not enjoy the snickers and chortles that surround him. Either the daughters will be more trouble than they seem, or guarding them will be an imbecile's task... either way, he does not smile when Olaf murmurs of Vidar.

But then Astrid is named. It is her, and the Jarl calls upon her to coddle his new housecarle. Does he know that she and Ulf know one another? That the tall woman hailed from Vidarstead... that they were inseparable in their youth?

He has avoided looking at her since their eyes met at distance moments ago, but now Ulf dares another glance. He looks straight at the woman, trying to read her face, her body language.

Astrid's expression first cuts Ulf like a sharpened blade. Emotionless, cold, perhaps disdainful -- there is a look on her face that never existed, never could have existed, before that day with Ulfarr's half-brother. But Vidar's son knows better than to flinch or show any sign of just how deep that blade plunges. And when he holds the woman's gaze, that's when he sees a flicker of something more...

Ulfarr is self-conscious as he eats in the hall, knowing that this task awaits him. Are the daughters cursing his name, that their outing has been delayed by his appetite? The food is good, though, and the man eats heartily.

Later, when Astrid joins him outside, when they at last come together alone, Ulf has a knot in his throat. He has long wondered what his first words would be to this girl -- this woman -- should their paths cross again. Now was that time, and all those thoughts have fled him. Should they embrace? Will she strike him? Kiss him?

She puts an axe straight through his unease with her first word, with her pragmatic utterance. He needs a horse. There is no mention, no glint, no long look to suggest there was ever anything between them. That they rollicked as children and cavorted as youths, spending years exploring lonely heaths and beautiful lochs together.

Ulfarr follows her lead at first, merely nodding at the idea of needing a horse. He does so again when the spear-maiden mentions he will need to meet the daughters at the gate, and a third time when they get to the stables and Astrid speaks of the girls' natures.

"Why is that?" he finally asks simply, wondering about Fastvi.

Then, before the woman can fully answer, Ulf stops and regards his old friend seriously. "I did not expect to find you here, Astrid. Seeing you was... a surprise. A glad one. You look well."

Ulfarr hadn't expected to find Astrid here. Nor did he anticipate such a welcome in the hall, nor a task given him before he rested for even one night. He has not forgotten the sniggers and stares, but his heart sings when the girl -- woman-- with the blonde hair strides ahead of him. Just as she had when they were crossing a river, hopping and climbing, from stone to log to bank. Just as she had when they clambered over old, grey and mossy ruins, with the sun shining in her streaming hair.

He keeps up, sensing now they need to quickly catch these girls, and he waits until they are outfitted and astride two strong mounts before he speaks again.

"What were you going to say, Astrid? I heard the laughter, saw the looks. What is it people expect of me here? Is my father's quarrel with the Jarl still so fresh?"

The expression on Astrid's face, so different from the one she offered at first in the hall, stirs Ulfarr's blood. But her words eat at him, especially the emphasis she uses. As though when he tells her, no, I do not know, she is going to chide him... or worse, judge him silently with that clenched jaw.

But there is no other way to answer.

They are near the gate when he offers back, "You remember my parents, Astrid, and their secrecy around those years. Even when I was older, I knew they did not want me prising such things from their past. So, no, I do not know." A few more thudding steps from the horses and then the man continues.

"But I begin to understand this was a mistake, not seeking that knowledge before coming here. It is held against me, and I do not know when their smiles are good-natured... or when I should take affront. Tell me, Astrid. What was it, all those years ago, that still lingers in the air here?"