Cooling A Fiery Soul

I'm pretty sure I haven't posted this story yet (sorry if I have). It's not one I particularly care for as it doesn't have the best of endings. Or maybe it's the climax. Anyway, you'll understand if you read it. It is historical fiction, so maybe at least you'll learn something :) I would have posted something else, but the couple things I've started aren't finished yet (one is for Faith's challenge. I haven't forgotten!).

Thjodhild stepped out of the longhouse and took in a long breath of clean, crisp Iceland air. It was a beautiful summer morning, and the world was rejoicing. The birds sang as they soared through the air. The geese waddled up the road, and she could hear the moo of the cattle grazing on the rugged countryside. Smoke arose from the cooking fires of the neighboring farm houses. A sudden yank of Thjodhild's hair brought her back from her wondering. Baby Thorvald cooed with delight, his fists full of her hair. “You are an ornery little boy,” she told the baby as she untangled the hair from out between his fingers. “I wonder where your father and brother are.”

Just then a dog barked, and Thjodhild heard her husband's booming laugh. She saw him, little Leif, and the dog running behind them up the road. Leif's little hand was enclosed in Eric's big one. He tried to match his father's large stride while chattering nonstop the whole time. Eric laughed again. His long, red hair was wind blown, and his gray eyes twinkled as they met his wife's gaze. “Good morning, my dear wife!” He gave her quick kiss on the lips and took the baby from her arms.

“And good morning to you, my mighty man! Breakfast is ready. You better go eat it before I decide to eat it all myself.” Thjodhild turned and went back through the door.

“Well, we wouldn't want that, now, would we?” Eric questioned Leif. The boy frowned and shook his head. Eric chuckled and stepped inside, Leif and the dog right at his heels.

“Master Eric! Master Eric!” a loud cry interrupted the family's breakfast. One of their thralls burst through the longhouse door, his face wild with fear.

“What's the matter?” Eric asked in a gruff voice, obviously disturbed by his breakfast being rudely interrupted. “Well, are you going to answer me or just stand there panting like a dog?”

“Eyjolf,” the thrall panted out. “He just killed two of your thralls.”

“What for!? What have I ever done to him?” Eric yelled. He slammed his big fist down hard, hitting the table. Milk sloshed out of the cups, and the dishes rattled. Frightened, the baby began to cry. Thjodhild scooped Thorvald up and tried to comfort him. She loved her husband, but this side of him frightened her, too. His anger often arose unexpectedly, changing who he was completely. Eric stormed out of the house angrily with the thrall following behind at a distance. Obviously he was afraid of what his master might do. Thjodhild cleaned up the dinner mess silently, hoping Eric would not do anything too rash.

Eric did not return until evening. His face was still flushed red with anger; but he seemed a little calmer. Thjodhild handed him a cup of water, hoping it would cool him off farther. He gulped it down but said nothing. “What happened?” Thjodhild asked. She reached up and touched his swollen eye. He flinched and pulled her hand back.

“A couple of our thralls accidentally caused a landslide on Valthiof's property. It crushed his house. Eyjolf, his cousin, killed our thralls. He claimed they did it on purpose because of a fight they had with a couple of Valthiof's thralls yesterday, so I got rid of Eyjolf.” Eric seemed very pleased with himself. “...and a friend of his.”

“Eric, you didn't!” Thjodhild had just noticed the streak of blood on the sleeve of his tunic. Her stomach churned.

“Yes, I did. They won't bother us again.”

“But Eyjolf's family will!” Thjodhild protested. “Your life is in danger now and the lives of our whole family! What were you thinking?” Loud pounding on the door interrupted her. Fear gripped her heart. She could not get herself to move towards the door. If only they could grab the children and run. The pounding continued, and Eric opened the door. The village elders entered, somber expressions upon their faces.

“What do you want?” Eric asked.

“Eyjolf's family has brought their case before us, and we have concluded that you and your family should be banished for murder,” replied the head elder. “You must be gone by tomorrow evening, or we will use force.” The elders then turned and left.

Eric sat down in front of the fire and did not say a word. Thjoldhild let her tears flow. She knew he hurt, too, even if he refused to show it. Her heart ached for him. They had spent six long, happy years building this farm. It was Eric's pride, but now they would leave it behind.

A few months later Thjoldhild stood in the frame of their soon to be new home. “It will be finished soon,” said Eric as he came up behind her. He put an arm around her waste, stood beside her, and examined the longhouse. “Soon it will be just like back in Hawksdale.” Thjoldhild tried to take comfort in Eric's words, but she new it was not true. It would never be just like Hawksdale.

“Thjodhild, I'm going to be gone for a few days,” Eric informed her.

“Where are you going?” asked Thjoldhild, not wanting him to find any more trouble.

“Since I am almost finished with the house, I need to go retrieve those beams I left with Thorgest.”

“Can't you just make some new ones?”

“Thjoldhild, those beams were my father's. They are symbols of Viking greatness and authority. I will not go without them in my house.”

Thjoldhild sighed. It was of no use to try to change his mind. He brushed her blonde hair out of her face, gave her a kiss, and bid her good bye. She silently watched her man leave. Would he ever give up his pride? He still seemed to have no remorse over what he had done. Hopefully Thorgest would return the beams willingly.

Eric stood waiting with five of his thralls at the door of Thorgest's longhouse. A slave girl opened the door. “Is there something you need?” she questioned.

“Is Thorgest here?” replied Eric. “I have some urgent business I need to discuss with him.”

“Yes, he is here. Come on in.” She ushered the men through the door and led them to the table where Thorgest was dining with his sons. Upon seeing Eric, Thorgest stood and greeted him.

“Eric Thorvaldson, it has been awhile. How are you doing, my friend? Come, have a seat.” Thorgest scooted a chair towards him.

“I am fine. Thank you,” replied Eric as he sat down. “I have come to retrieve my posts that I left in your care awhile back.”

Thorgest laughed. “I thought you told me I could keep them.”

“Only until I could come back for them.”

“I am sure that is not what you said. Besides, I have become quite fond of the beams. I cannot return them.” Thorgest folded his arms across his chest and stared coldly at Eric.

“You will give them back!” argued Eric. His face began to flush red in anger, and his eyes turned as cold as Thorgest's.

“No, I will not.” Thorgest motioned to one of his slaves. “Show our guests out.”

Eric balled his hands up into fists. “We will not leave without the posts.”

“Get out of my house, Eric,” Thorgest said firmly. “or I will force you out.”

Enraged, Eric struck Thorgest on the jaw, knocking him out of his chair. Thorgest's sons moved to protect their father, and Eric's thralls stopped them. Eric reached for a knife from the table. Thorgest's wife and children began to scream, and neighbors came running.

Eric sat with his head in his hands, sobbing. How was he going to tell his wife and children that he had been outlawed again? Why did he let his anger control him? Why did he kill Thorgest's sons? Now where would he go?

Thjoldhild heard the dog bark. Her heart skipped a beat. Was Eric back? She looked down the road and saw the thralls coming towards her. Seeing their bruises and somber faces, she knew something was wrong. Thjoldhild hurried towards them. “Where is Eric?” she asked. “Is he all right?” The servants motioned back down the road a ways. Eric sat at the foot of a tree, his head buried in his hands. Relieved and overjoyed to see him, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her. “Eric!” she called.

Upon hearing her cry, Eric lifted up his head. Tears streaked his face. Thjoldhild stopped in her tracks. She had never seen her husband cry before. “What happened?” she asked. She stooped down and began to wipe his face.

“I'm sorry, Thjoldhild, I have failed you.”

“What do you mean, Eric?”

“When Thorgest would not return the beams, I killed his sons. I have been outlawed.”

“Oh Eric!” she sobbed.

“I've learned my lesson. I'll never let my anger control me like that again. I don't want to hurt you and our children more than I already have. Please forgive me, Thjoldhild.”

Thjoldhild took in a deep breath. She had longed to hear those words from her man for a long time. Now tears ran down her face. Her husband meant it, and she would help him in any way she could. She flung her arms around him and just sobbed.

A few hours later Thjoldhild held baby Thorvald in her arms, and Eric stood beside her. Leif held his father's hand. They all watched the shore as it shrunk away, the ocean becoming bigger. Their family was starting anew, and soon they would find another place to call home. Eric took his family to an unexplored land, which he dubbed “Greenland.” There, other vikings joined him and started a colony. Two more children were born to Eric and Thjoldhild, a son and a daughter. Leif began to show great interest in the sea and adventures. Maybe someday he would even discover a new land of his own.