"Lad, I don't know if the gods are shitting on you today, but I certainly amn't one."
A figure, cloaked in furs, stepped onto the path ahead. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a beard braided and adorned with small bones. A hunter's bow was slung over his back, and his hand rested on the axe at his belt. His eyes, sharp and assessing, locked onto Baldur—then flicked to Gyda, her bow still loosely held in her hand, her gaze sharp and watchful.
Baldur didn't say anything as he looked at the blond middle-aged man ahead, gripping his sword in his hand, alert. "Are you with them?" he asked neutrally, pointing with his free left hand at the corpses without taking his eyes off the stranger.
The man stepped closer, his hands raised slightly in a gesture of peace. "No. I was just passing by when I saw the four hidden by the trees, waiting for some poor bastard." He rumbled, his voice deep as the growl. "Didn't figure it'd be a stripling like you who'd send them to Hel."
Gyda didn't speak, but her fingers tightened slightly around her bow, her posture tense, ready.
Baldur smirked. "Oh, so you were waiting for your chance, huh? You wouldn't tell me you were waiting there all the time to help somebody."
The man cleared his throat awkwardly but didn't comment, as if in agreement. "Mhmm."
"Why didn't you take your chance, like the other fools with me?"
"After seeing what you and the young woman did with them, it's better to be a friend than an enemy." The man chuckled, stepping closer as his gaze flicked to Gyda again, lingering for a moment before returning to Baldur. "After all, I don't want to fight someone favored by the gods themselves—someone even capable of killing a bear. Most men wouldn't dare hunt one, let alone a young man like you." He whistled low.
The man's grin widened, revealing white teeth. "Name's Hrold Sigmundsson. I live in the next valley over."
"I didn't hunt the bear. It hunted me."
"Name's Baldur Ragnarsson." Baldur smiled and jerked his chin toward Gyda. "And this is Gyda. My wife."
Gyda didn't react, but her lips quirked slightly at the introduction. "And his sister," she added smoothly, her voice cool but not unfriendly.
Hrold didn't bat an eye. Instead, he grinned even wider. "Like our gods in more things than just the name. Even better." His gaze flicked between them, amusement dancing in his eyes. "A man who hunts bears and marries his beautiful sister? The gods do favor you, lad." He clapped Baldur on the shoulder. "For the bear, it means you've got luck or skill. Maybe both." His gaze flicked to the bear carcass, then to the bandits' bodies. "You're either very good or very stupid. I'm betting on the former."
Unnvaldr stamped his hoof, as if in disagreement.
Baldur exhaled sharply, not intending to stay out in the cold any longer than necessary.
"What do you want, old man? A share of the meat? Their stuff?" He gestured dismissively at the bodies. "Take their axes, and clothes if you like. They won't need them."
Hrold shook his head. "Not here for scraps, boy. I'm here because you've got a problem." He jerked his chin toward the horizon, where the first fat flakes of snow had begun to fall again.
"There's a snøstorm coming in a few hours. Do you see the sky? It'll hit hard, and if you aren't from somewhere near this place like me, by the time it arrives, you'll be in trouble. That horse of yours is tired from pulling that bear. You won't make it home before it gets you—not like this."
Baldur followed his gaze. The sky had darkened, the clouds swelling like bruises. The wind carried the scent of ice and pine, and the temperature was dropping fast. He cursed under his breath.
"So?" he snapped. "You offering to help, or just here to gloat?"
Hrold spat into the snow. "I've got a sled two miles away. We can load your kills, get you something to travel faster before the storm hits. You can rest there, tend that arm properly. Then you both can decide if you're heading home or waiting it out."
Baldur studied him, searching for the trick. But the man's face was open, his stance easy. No hidden blade, no shifting eyes. Just a hunter offering help to another traveler in the wilds.
"And what do you get out of it?"
Hrold laughed, a booming sound that echoed through the trees. "A story to tell, for one. And maybe a helping hand in return someday. You strike me as the kind who repays favors."
Baldur hesitated, then nodded sharply. "Fine. But old man, I'm warning you—even if you're skilled and wise enough to live to this old age, if this is a trap, I'll gut you before you blink."
Hrold clapped him on the shoulder—hard enough to make Baldur smirk wryly. "That's the spirit. Now let's move before this storm buries us both."
Baldur glanced at Gyda, who gave him a small nod. She trusted his judgment, but her hand still rested on her bow, just in case.
"Wait," Baldur said, "you'll help me testify in my self-defense if anyone comes asking about these men. I don't know if they're outlaws, and I don't care if they aren't. But if there's suddenly a brother, father, cousin, or wife making trouble after I report them, it'd still be a bother—even if I can kill them all in a holmgang. No trouble is better than trouble, right?"
Hrold laughed loudly, his white teeth flashing. "Yah, I'll vouch for you, lad."
"Alright, let's go to your place so I can use your sled." Baldur turned to Gyda. "But first, help me pick clean these fuckers of their things. The wolves can take care of their bodies."
Gyda sheathed the bow in the horse as she moved to assist. She didn't speak, but her movements were smooth. She stripped the bandits of their weapons, coins, and anything else of value with the same ease she'd nock an arrow.
Baldur watched her for a moment, amused, before turning back to Hrold. "You've got good timing, old man."
Hrold chuckled. "Lucky for you, I do."
After a while, they packed the clothes, axes, knives, and everything else of value—like they were looting a corpse in Skyrim—leaving the bodies where they fell. The snow was already beginning to cover the tracks behind them, and maybe some wolf would enjoy meat.
Baldur walked beside the old man, chatting with him, pulling Unnvaldr by the reins as Hrold led the way. Gyda followed silently, adding a word every now and then, her eyes scanning the trees as they walked.
......
The homestead loomed ahead, a cluster of three buildings: two sturdy longhouses with snow blanketing the thatched roofs, and smoke curling lazily from the central hearth of the largest house. A winter stable stood to the left, its wide doors ajar. Two men—broad-shouldered and tall—stood near the entrance as they worked with the animals inside. Their postures were alert as they quickly caught sight of Baldur, Hrold, and Gyda approaching.
The taller of the two, a mountain of a man with a dark brown beard braided with leather cords, stepped forward. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Baldur, assessing him with the quiet intensity of a seasoned warrior. "Father," he rumbled, his voice like distant thunder, "we were beginning to worry you weren't coming back since this morning."
Hrold clapped him on the shoulder, his grin wide. "Not even the gods could keep me from my own hearth, Erik. And look what I've brought!" He gestured toward Baldur with a dramatic flourish. "This is Baldur, lads. A man favored by the gods themselves! and accompanying him is his wife and sister, Gyda."
Erik gawked as his gaze flicked over Baldur and Gyda, before taking in the sword at his hip, the bear carcass dragging behind Unnvaldr, the deer strapped to the horse, the golden eye that seemed to gleam with its own light. He grunted in approval, a small smile tugging at his lips. Then his eyes landed on Gyda again, and his eyebrows rose slightly. "Did you kill the bear or help him?" he asked Hrold.
"Me? No, thank Odin, I didn't have to fight a bear. Nor did I help him kill it."
Erik sucked in a breath, his eyes widening as he looked at Baldur, not quite believing it. "This young lad hunted a bear alone, or did the young miss help him? Anyway, that's no small feat—enough to give him honor and respect. Welcome, lad. Welcome, young miss."
"He killed it on his own." Gyda smiled, not mincing her proud look on her face as they looked at her brother with awe.
The second man, shorter but no less imposing, with wild, dirty-blond hair and a thick, untamed beard, let out a booming laugh. "By Thor's hammer, he's got the look of a warrior! And that eye—gold as Odin's own!" He stepped forward, clapping Baldur on the back hard enough to make him stagger. "Welcome to our home, friends! Any man who can fell a bear and live is a friend of ours!"
Baldur smirked, his golden eye gleaming with amusement. "Thanks. The big guy suddenly appeared out of nowhere. I had no other choice—it was that or be his food."
The second man—Osborn—laughed even harder. "Even better! A man who turns the hunter into the hunted? That's a tale worth telling!"
Hrold's voice cut through the chatter. "And not just the bear! He cut down three of the four bandits that ambushed him like they were nothing!"
"The young miss also killed one with her bow. A nice clean shot to his throat, careful with her that she is, though."
"That's where I found them," Hrold added. "I was near the place, coming home, when I saw those men waiting by the trees. Was about to see what excitement they were after when they suddenly appeared—calm as you please— in the road while dragging that bear around."
The women, who had been working nearby, paused at the commotion. Three women and a young woman turned toward the newcomers, their expressions a mix of curiosity and something far more intense as they took in Baldur's handsome look and beautiful eyes—and then at Gyda, who was young and pretty as her brother.
The tallest of the women, a golden-blonde with stormy gray eyes and a figure that made Baldur's gaze linger, stepped forward. Her full lips curled into a knowing smile as she took in the sight of him—and then Gyda, her eyes flicking between the two with open interest. "By the gods," she murmured, her voice husky. "A man who can fell a bear and his sister-wife? You must be blessed indeed."
Gyda's fingers twitched as she grabbed his hand—as if staking her claim, showing her territory to the women eyeing her brother with open interest—but she didn't react otherwise.
She was long used to the looks women and girls shot him, thick with open desire.
Beside the blonde woman, a younger woman with the same golden hair and bright blue eyes blushed deeply, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her dress. She seemed of the same age as Baldur and Gyda, with a body still taking on the soft curves of womanhood, her cheeks flushed with youth and something more as she eyed Baldur—and then Gyda—curiously.
Hrold grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Valdris, Frida—this is Baldur. And this is Gyda." He gestured to them in turn. "He's got the golden eye of Odin himself! A sign of great things, mark my words!" He turned to Baldur, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "Come, lad. Let my daughter and granddaughter tend to that arm of yours. A wound like that needs proper care, and they're the best healers in the valley."
Baldur raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between Valdris and Frida. The woman was stunning, her curves impossible to ignore, and the daughter had a beauty that was blooming in the path of becoming a beautiful woman like her mother. "I wouldn't want to impose..."
"Nonsense!" Hrold boomed, pushing him toward the largest of the longhouses. "Valdris, Frida—see to him. And don't spare the herbs. I want my new young friend to know that I, Hrold, am a good host to him!"
Valdris's smile deepened as she stepped forward, her hand brushing against Baldur's arm as she made a gesture to guide him toward the house. "Come, warrior. Let's get you out of the cold and treat that wound."
Baldur glanced at his sister to see what she thought. He was enjoying looking at the women here, and he seemed to feel that something...weird would happen...
"Let them treat your arm, brother." Gyda smiled at him, a mischievous smile that seemed to express many things without saying anything.
Baldur grinned and followed after Valdris.
Frida followed, her cheeks still flushed, her eyes wide as she watched Baldur and Gyda.