Aphr smiled to herself as she reached the Norrfjord shore. The cool breeze hit her face and woke her up slightly. She wrapped her head and arms with warm wool and smelled the air as they were approaching. It smelled of freshly cut wood. She looked at the tall fir trees, their barks covered in crystallized snow, sparkling. Among them, they were birches, lots of them. In fact the name of the largest town in the Norrfjords was Björkved, which meant birchwood in the natives' tongue. Warlord Jkkeh lived a few miles away from the centre of the Nordic townhall. He chose to be away from people as wanted to be protected, closer to nature, remote and alone if he needed so. 'He must love the freedom of the great outdoors, just like me' she thought to herself.
It was a day of leisure in the city so the merchants had their stalls lined up. Fresh cheese, fruit and yogurt curds, rice puddings, preserved berries, liver and thinly sliced cured reindeer or moose meat. Further down the small organic roads, tall, handsome bakers were smiling at her, hoping she'd get inside their shops and buy from them. Little it mattered that she was a foreigner in their town. The Aanaar welcomed strangers, if they thought them honest, loyal and just. The phrase they used to describe straight forward sentiments was in fact 'skin on the nose'; that confused Aphr who thought it was some sort of innuendo at first. As she passed by, she bravely smiled at the men and had a quick glimpse at their goods. Thick hearty breads and colourful cakes, adorned with almond paste flowers and berries. She bought a cake covered in blue almond paste and took the path to her fellow female warriors' hut.
It was a day of leisure in the city so the merchants had their stalls lined up. Fresh cheese, fruit and yogurt curds, rice puddings, preserved berries, liver and thinly sliced cured reindeer or moose meat. Further down the small organic roads, tall, handsome bakers were smiling at her, hoping she'd get inside their shops and buy from them. Little it mattered that she was a foreigner in their town. The Aanaar welcomed strangers, if they thought them honest, loyal and just. The phrase they used to describe straight forward sentiments was in fact 'skin on the nose'; that confused Aphr who thought it was some sort of innuendo at first. As she passed by, she bravely smiled at the men and had a quick glimpse at their goods. Thick hearty breads and colourful cakes, adorned with almond paste flowers and berries. She bought a cake covered in blue almond paste and took the path to her fellow female warriors' hut.
Sendra and Elane were there. She handed them a bottle of Mojo and sat down on furs with them. She explained her plans and narrated her experiences from the Swashbuckler's Isles. She also added that she was ready to take it up to the next level and seek the Golden Globe, having met the owner first for some intimate time. The female warriors where happy to hear her plans and advised her accordingly. She also briefed them on the fact that she could not wait until the gathering of warriors to meet the Warlord. She treated them some amber-coloured energy liquid from her flask and asked for permission to wash herself in their outdoors hot tub. Then she borrowed Elane's horse and galloping, she went towards the dark woods, to find Jkkeh. She was singing all the way, a habit that she adopted during her childhood; it was the antidote to her fears, when she and her father had to cross a dark path in the long summer nights of the Southern Seas or when, later, she was hunting boars alone. What she did not know, however, was that Jkkeh felt her song and sang back. The cold air brought his melody in her mind and it felt like a lightning was transfixing her.
When she reached his fortress his trusted hound came out to greet her. Both animal and master had the same habit. As she approached Jkkeh they sniffed her, as if she was edible. She was slightly shocked at first, it always made her feel weird, up to the point were she would caress the handle of her sword as if she was ready to pull it out of its sheath and attack. But he looked at her, and somehow, calmed her down . He smiled at her with his green eyes: he was kind when it was just the two of them. He was dressed in lynx fur. She gave him the bottle of Mojo and he invited her in. She spoke first 'I brought you this'. As she was a hunter, she offered him a whole fowl that she killed on her way and kept in her rucksack for a few hours. He thanked her and lit a fire while she decapitated the game and started plucking its feathers. They did not talk much. He was watching her with the corner of his eye while she placed the dead animal on the hearth, holding it steadily on the flames to make sure any remnants of feathers were gone. Quietly, he brought her sweet almond potatoes. She was pleased with the combination of flavours and thanked him. She asked him if he had any spices and he pointed towards a spice rack. 'If you have juniper berries in your cupboard, it could be love' she said cheekily. He smiled, it was a kind smile of reassurance.
After the fowl was cooked they ate and drunk and chatted for hours. A first it was war-related discourse, then the discussion switched to hound training and bard songs. They had so many things to say to one another. He explained to her all about his body markings. 'It is the Old Gods that dictated me to have them, he explained. I have the three flasks of Odin on my right forearm so that I will never forget His divine inspiration', he added. 'I know how that feels' she said. 'I have lost my inspiration for ten years, wandering around the world like a gypsy. It is the fate of my clan, we try hard to stay in one place, it's hard to settle down when your trust is fading. Sometimes I even wonder if this war is worth fighting for.' He held her hand, tightly and with all his strength, almost hurting her. She let go a girly cry that made her feel slightly ashamed. He laughed, a full- hearted, warrior laughter, yet not intimidating. He then spoke again, teasing her 'Aphr, for a woman so skilled in battle who manages to travel so far and lives alone in a fortress with all its traps and treasures, you have quite a girly side. I would like to hear more of that yelping'. She blushed and bit her lip. 'Not unless I want you to' she added seriously.
In the meantime, snowflakes were falling from the sky. They were thick and glowing in the dark. It made her think of the dark summer nights and the myriads of fireflies, so she then spoke to him about her fatherland. The deep aquamarine sea, surrounded by majestic dark mountains, the lush vineyards, the goat herds, the magical vinejus she loved. Then he spoke about his people, the hardmanships of the Aanaar who had to adapt in extreme weather conditions and their nomadic herding, the training of hounds and hunting. Their language resembled that of early peoples and animals. They were as ancient as the World. 'I try to be a just Warlord and feel for my people' he said. 'In the end of the day, it all boils down to establishing a good, just king, in every culture of the World', she replied. He smiled. A good, kind smile, 'slightly vulnerable' she thought. 'A king needs a virtuous queen he can rely on. She has to be loyal and benevolent and take over the throne, govern his people well, if she must' he added. She held his hand and looked down on the ground. 'What do you know about heart?' She almost interrogated him. 'Can you assemble your heat in the dark, take it apart, and clean all the parts? Life is a journey, a course, like learning a sword art. You can't have partial heart'. He agreed. 'As long as one does not loose themselves in a union, as long as they retain their mind, I'm happy' he replied. 'And what if they find themselves instead' she asked him. 'Good answer' he said.
The night went on and as the time went by she intoxicated him more and more with Mojo. He suggested they fight in the snow, for pleasure and leisure. She nodded and followed him outside. He took his sword out of its sheath and quietly went behind her while she was still trying to wear her fur boots. When she was least expecting his attack he swiftly turned her around and placed the blade on her neck. His move was perfectly calculated to scare her, but not to hurt. She let go another girly cry but quickly turned around to escape the blade. In an instance, she pulled out her emergency dagger she always hid inside a pocket of her leather breeches, attached to her left thigh. 'Wow' he said. 'You are fast'. She gave him a cheeky grin and they fought for hours. It was fun. She was not accustomed to fighting on the snow, so she got tired quicker than him; as she was exhausted, he managed to get her on the ground and then ended up right above her, pinning her down with his arms. It was impossible for her to move but she did not stop trying. He whispered in her ear 'Don't stop fighting, never stop fighting, you fight well' but did not let her go. Then when she was least expecting it, he kissed her mouth. She offered her tongue to him. It was a long, certain kiss. He apologised: 'I can't help it' he said. She placed her fingers on his lips to shut him up, while looking straight into his eyes. He took her in his arms and carried her inside his fortress. He placed her on a reindeer skin in front of the stove and undressed her. They made love like animals, like beasts, like gods, until the break of a deep burgundy dawn. She then lulled him with tales from the Southern Seas. Asleep, he did not let her go off his arms for a split second. In the morning she thought he felt him walking around her, naked, looking outside. A heavy snowstorm was approaching from the North so he had to meet his battalion and join them on a difficult quest. He got dressed swiftly and walked out. A few minutes after he was gone, she rushed out too. 'Times of war, joys of a soldier' she thought to herself as she was gathering her weapons together getting ready to ride on the snow again. She had a cheeky grin on her face. The sun was low on the horizon, releasing a purple glow on the sparkly, white snow.
After the fowl was cooked they ate and drunk and chatted for hours. A first it was war-related discourse, then the discussion switched to hound training and bard songs. They had so many things to say to one another. He explained to her all about his body markings. 'It is the Old Gods that dictated me to have them, he explained. I have the three flasks of Odin on my right forearm so that I will never forget His divine inspiration', he added. 'I know how that feels' she said. 'I have lost my inspiration for ten years, wandering around the world like a gypsy. It is the fate of my clan, we try hard to stay in one place, it's hard to settle down when your trust is fading. Sometimes I even wonder if this war is worth fighting for.' He held her hand, tightly and with all his strength, almost hurting her. She let go a girly cry that made her feel slightly ashamed. He laughed, a full- hearted, warrior laughter, yet not intimidating. He then spoke again, teasing her 'Aphr, for a woman so skilled in battle who manages to travel so far and lives alone in a fortress with all its traps and treasures, you have quite a girly side. I would like to hear more of that yelping'. She blushed and bit her lip. 'Not unless I want you to' she added seriously.
In the meantime, snowflakes were falling from the sky. They were thick and glowing in the dark. It made her think of the dark summer nights and the myriads of fireflies, so she then spoke to him about her fatherland. The deep aquamarine sea, surrounded by majestic dark mountains, the lush vineyards, the goat herds, the magical vinejus she loved. Then he spoke about his people, the hardmanships of the Aanaar who had to adapt in extreme weather conditions and their nomadic herding, the training of hounds and hunting. Their language resembled that of early peoples and animals. They were as ancient as the World. 'I try to be a just Warlord and feel for my people' he said. 'In the end of the day, it all boils down to establishing a good, just king, in every culture of the World', she replied. He smiled. A good, kind smile, 'slightly vulnerable' she thought. 'A king needs a virtuous queen he can rely on. She has to be loyal and benevolent and take over the throne, govern his people well, if she must' he added. She held his hand and looked down on the ground. 'What do you know about heart?' She almost interrogated him. 'Can you assemble your heat in the dark, take it apart, and clean all the parts? Life is a journey, a course, like learning a sword art. You can't have partial heart'. He agreed. 'As long as one does not loose themselves in a union, as long as they retain their mind, I'm happy' he replied. 'And what if they find themselves instead' she asked him. 'Good answer' he said.
The night went on and as the time went by she intoxicated him more and more with Mojo. He suggested they fight in the snow, for pleasure and leisure. She nodded and followed him outside. He took his sword out of its sheath and quietly went behind her while she was still trying to wear her fur boots. When she was least expecting his attack he swiftly turned her around and placed the blade on her neck. His move was perfectly calculated to scare her, but not to hurt. She let go another girly cry but quickly turned around to escape the blade. In an instance, she pulled out her emergency dagger she always hid inside a pocket of her leather breeches, attached to her left thigh. 'Wow' he said. 'You are fast'. She gave him a cheeky grin and they fought for hours. It was fun. She was not accustomed to fighting on the snow, so she got tired quicker than him; as she was exhausted, he managed to get her on the ground and then ended up right above her, pinning her down with his arms. It was impossible for her to move but she did not stop trying. He whispered in her ear 'Don't stop fighting, never stop fighting, you fight well' but did not let her go. Then when she was least expecting it, he kissed her mouth. She offered her tongue to him. It was a long, certain kiss. He apologised: 'I can't help it' he said. She placed her fingers on his lips to shut him up, while looking straight into his eyes. He took her in his arms and carried her inside his fortress. He placed her on a reindeer skin in front of the stove and undressed her. They made love like animals, like beasts, like gods, until the break of a deep burgundy dawn. She then lulled him with tales from the Southern Seas. Asleep, he did not let her go off his arms for a split second. In the morning she thought he felt him walking around her, naked, looking outside. A heavy snowstorm was approaching from the North so he had to meet his battalion and join them on a difficult quest. He got dressed swiftly and walked out. A few minutes after he was gone, she rushed out too. 'Times of war, joys of a soldier' she thought to herself as she was gathering her weapons together getting ready to ride on the snow again. She had a cheeky grin on her face. The sun was low on the horizon, releasing a purple glow on the sparkly, white snow.
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