A few miles to sea beyond sight of the da’Ekain coast the sun peaked over the horizon to cast its warming rays down upon a still ocean. The only object upon what would other wise be a featureless expanse of the deepest blue is a small ship, a life raft really. Beaten and battered by many days at sea the small craft is very unfamiliar to these waters, it is made of planks of wood bowed and shaped over a wooden frame. The craft has only one in habitant a young man tall of stature and broad of shoulder his clothing is a simple tunic, blood stained and ragged, and a pair of breeches in similar disrepair


As well as it’s only occupant the life raft holds a rather eclectic mix. Strung between the sides of the boat were two rows of sun dried fish of varying sizes. Though truthfully, only one looked like it would even make a meal. At the stern of the boat, neatly folded lay a long chain mail tunic, atop which sat a wood and steel shield inscribed with runes for protection, a steel helmet, and his cherished long sword, made in the style of his kin it to was inscribed with Runes, runes for victory in battle runes that sang for the blood of his foes. Kept tight in well oiled scabbard made from oak and covered with hide of the first wild boar he had killed. At the bow lay a coil of rope and a long knife suitable for eating gutting a fish or as a backup weapon, and two oars.


As the suns rays danced upon the young mans skin warming his face and setting the golden hairs of his long ragged beard alight with a faux fire his eyes sprung open startlingly blue in a face bronzed and planed by mal-nutrition and the sea. From deep within his lungs his first breath of the morning is a roar of defiance. “You still haven’t claimed me you devils of the deep! You may have claimed my friends and tossed me to Allfather knows where, but Aesgar son of Bardulf still lives you bastards!”


With his morning proclamation over Aesgar sat up tossing the scraggly length of his blond hair out of his eyes. Reaching over he checked the baited line he had let drag behind him during the night, he sighed, empty again. Yanking one of the small fish off the line between the sides of the boat he re-baited his one remaining hook and cast it into the water keeping a hand on the line he scanned the skies searching fro a gull or any bird that might indicate he was close to land.


This had become Aesgar’s routine, the defiant rant followed by endless hours of fishing and hoping that the gods or fate would aid him in finding land. Ever since the tempest of the sea had swallowed his friends and his ship he’d been adrift in this solitary life raft eating what fish he could hope to catch avoiding any dangerous creature and praying his luck held and he didn’t meet another storm. Day upon endless day followed this pattern eating when he could hoping to survive when he couldn’t two days ago the last of the two fresh water barrels he’d been able to salvage had run out and he knew that if he didn’t find land soon he would die of thirst surrounded by water . The thought brought a chuckle to his dry and cracked lips and he smiled in dark humor continuing to scan the sky, fixed determination etched upon his face. About midday the heat of the sun conspired with Aesgar’s hunger and thirst to cause him to lose consciousness as he felt himself slip off his only thought was his wish to have died in battle.


As the sun began its descent from the sky, Aesgar finally stirred again a smell on the breeze had got his nose and stirred him back from his semi conscious stupor, smoke, and trees. He opened his eyes as he heard the longed for gulls cry. Sitting up he scanned the horizon fervently there in the distance he could just make out the break in the horizon, land. With a whoop of Joy Aesgar sprung into action pushing his weakened body to move with something resembling its old vigor. Snatching up his oars he slotted them in their stirrups and began to pull as fast as he could toward land. After a half hour his muscles burned after an hour and a half he was screaming with every pull. Finally he rode the last shore wave to land, jumping the edge of his craft and using the rope to pull it up onto the beach, Aesgar then fell on his back laughing a joyous bellowing sound, “Odin! By my strength and by my will I have made I to your hallowed shores of Asgard. Take me into Valhalla so I may sit with my fellow Warriors.”

Rejected. She had been rejected by the Warlord and sent back to her tribe by the ocean. Her father wasn't pleased, but at least Kemen let her see her son. She had missed him enough that for a few days, having the chance to spend time playing with his little wooden horses. Of course Kemen looked down on her, but he'd known her, in some ways, even better than her own father, who had her brothers to think of. To him, she was always his son's treasured wife. So it could be worse, really.

Now she was out on one of her frequent rides, on one of her father's horses, Pinpil (short for pinpilinpauxa, 'butterfly'). The mare wasn't very spirited, but Maite had never really liked horses that were too wild; she found horses likeable for the same reason she liked people--pleasant temperaments. She sat astride on the horse, leather leggings on under her tunic--she wanted to stay out as long as she could without worrying about chafing. The sun was setting by the time she got to the coast, but that was fine; she wanted to be alone, to go swimming, and to stay away for the night.

She hadn't gone riding for the months she'd been away, and, appreciating her new freedom, she leaned forward against Pinpil's neck, winding her hands through her mane, and wrapped her legs tightly around the horse's barrel. She closed her eyes, letting the cooling evening wind brush her face.

The distant sound of a strange, strident voice made her sit up sharply, and Pinpil tucked her haunches neatly under her, sliding to a stop. Who could that be? Not one of the Ekaini--she could tell that immediately. She squinted at the horizon, seeing only a small boat, which she couldn't recognize, pulled up on the beach. Curious, if a little scared, she approached the strange, light-haired figure. It was a Thiasan--or was it? He looked haggard, exhausted.

"Aizu?" she said, greeting him tentatively. There was no real danger, for she could turn Pinpil at any moment, and he appeared to be lost and hungry.

A voice, Aesgar was sure he heard a voice. He had no idea what the voice had said but he was certain it was not the voice of a valkyrie or of his gods. Slowly he opened his eyes rolling his head he caught sight of a horse not a big horse by any means but still a horse. He scanned his way up the horse his eyes coming to rest on the small dark skinned creature that rode atop it. No, on second look it was female and probably human.

Keeping his eye’s on the “girl” he slowly rolled to his feet. By Hera’s tit where in Midgard was he. He walked slowly over to his ship as he spoke.

“Hail, I am Aesgar son of Bardulf. Are you man troll or something else?” Perhaps he was farther a field than he thought; perhaps he had drifted to Helgard. Looking up at her he noticed lights swimming before his eyes and felt weaker still. In a dry rasp he croaked out “ regardless if you don’t intend to kill me could you perchance spare some water ?”

Saying as much he felt his knees give out and witnessed the prow of his boat come to meet his forehead a sharp pain and then darkness overtook him. His last thoughts before passing from consciousness completely were that he didn’t think one could die twice and that he hoped this time he’d be rejoined with his friends.

Maite gasped when the man collapsed, and she slid quickly from the horse, not stopping to think. She could recognize in the cracked skin of his face the unmistakable signs of dehydration, and she pulled the water-skin from Pinpil's back before rushing to his side.

He was very strange-looking, with rough blond hair on his face and burnt, pale skin, like a pig's. And he was very large, she could tell, almost a foot taller than she was. Still, he could do her no harm in her present state, and even if he were one of the interlopers (which she doubted; why would he not be with his brothers on the other side of the island?) he would be at least a valuable resource. She had heard Ekain speak of hostages before. After all, Nekane had been taken by the others. Maybe for an exchange?

These thoughts rapidly left her, because in truth Maite did not have much of a head for politics, and she pulled the strange man's head into her lap. Smoothing his hair back, as though he were her son, she poured some water onto his face, trying to wake him up.

"Wake up," she said, in her own language, which she could doubtless not understand. "Wake up, stranger." She was struck with fear--it was very bad luck to find a dead man, even a dead enemy. If she allowed him to pass beyond, his spirit might haunt her.

Aesgar felt cool water splash across his face, in his delirium his eyes opened looking into the brown face hovering over him. In his delirium, he opened his mouth letting the water trickle across his tongue like fresh rain on a baked desert. His eyes hurt to hold them open and his head pounded, everything was so bright. He must have fallen to the shore of some kind god in his death. “You may not be a valkyrie,” He mumbled, “but still I name you blessed.”


Taking a few mouthfuls of water and swallowing convulsively. Darkness closed his eyes yet again, a darkness of pain relieved by the liquid soaking into his parched skin. Troubled dreams plagued him and he moaned fitfully. Finally, amidst his dreams he was approached by his loyalist thane and child hood friend Edgar, he came to him clean and smiling.
“Edgar? Is it really you? Has Odin sent you to lead me to Valhalla? Has my saga finally come to an end?”
Edgar smiled at him and made to reach out to hug his companion, at least that is what Aesgar thought before his friends hand connected hard and fast with his cheek.


“You’re not dead you great lumbering Ox, at least not yet. Though it’s a near thing no doubt, And if you keep giving up one of these times you probably will be. I thought you had more spirit than this Aesgar. Can You Really be the Aesgar that led us to victory in a hundred raids? So what if you’re a little thirsty? Prove your worthy to be a Viking prince. Fight boy and earn your place in Valhalla.”
On the beach with his head resting in the small brown woman’s lap, Aesgar mumbled and thrashed through his dream. His eyes opening briefly to mumble a few unintelligible words, before they rolled back into his head and he began to sleep.

Maite frowned, troubled, as the man thrashed in what seemed like fever-delirium. She wasn't a shaman, but she did her best. She poured water on his brow when he seemed hot and tried to hold him still. He burned with Eguzki's fire, the heat he put in sick people to burn away sickness, but he didn't seem sick, only very thirsty. It was likely the heat-sicknesses she had seen in messengers who rode for a long time without stopping to drink.

When his head grew too heavy, she picked it up and set it down gently in the sand. So big! Everything about him seemed overblown, not entirely in proportion. A little frightening, and all the color had been bleached away. She moved quickly over to Pinpil and took dow her bedroll, then carried it over to him. She knelt in the sand and set it down, then pulled his head over to rest on it.

She'd brought a pouch of pemmican (a mash of dried venison, deer fat, and juniper berries) and barley-cakes, and it occurred to her that he was probably hungry. Where had he come from, over the sea? Very far away? Had he come from the place of the interlopers? For some reason, she didn't think so. He would be with them, would he not, if that were the case? And she'd heard the language the interlopers called Scalian. What he had spoken was strange.

Maite sat watching him, holding the waterskin in one hand to wet his lips if he looked parched, the pouch of food at her side. Pinpil would keep grazing nearby until she needed him, and the feverish stranger could hardly hurt her. Besides, it was her duty to make sure he didn't die on da'Eguzki.

Hours passed or was it moments, when Aesgar awoke again his mind had returned to him though he still felt heavy, and weak. Slowly opening his eyes, he scanned his surroundings. He still appeared to be on the beach that he had landed on though the sky had finally fallen to full dark. His eyes came to rest on the shadowed shape of his rescuer, He remembered the little brown woman as the protective angel from his dreams. Aesgar opened his mouth to try to speak but the dryness in his mouth caused him to cough first until he could gather some sort of moisture. To his ears his voice creaked like the deck of an old long boat as he finally croaked out in Scalian, “ Hello again, I am Aesgar son of Bardulf, thank you for saving my life, can you understand me ?”


The Woman was small so much smaller than his people. Even her horse seemed small. Struggling he propped himself up on his elbows closing his eyes as the world swam before him, and unconsciousness threatened to claim him again. “Where in Odin’s name is I?” He might not be dead but he was definitely far from home. The Air smelt different, greener, and warmer only the salt tang of the sea remained similar. Looking again at the woman he spoke again in Scalian. “I don’t know who you are lady, but thank you for saving my life.”

Maite jumped back from him, eyes wide, when he began to speak; then she relaxed. He still looked very weak, and from the sound of his voice, it was obvious he needed water. She took the waterskin from her belt and handed it to him, motioning for him to drink.

Maite didn't know much Scalian, but she did know a few words, and she picked out from his tone and some of the words she knew that he was thanking her. And asking who she was. "Maite," she said, pointed to herself. "Welcome... you..." She stopped, and gestured toward him, wondering what sort of a name he would have. Would it be one of those dull, leaden names she had heard of about the interlopers, or would it have music in it? "What is you?"

She went on, because it was important in case he had been attacked by an evil spirit or was wounded in some way she couldn't see; she had to bring him to see a Shaman. And, because he was an interloper or something like one, she would have to bring him to Ekain, as much as that thought pained her. "I... bring you... to Jaunko*. He can speaks Scalian and... help."



*Warlord.

Aesgar gratefully took the skin she offered pouring a few mouthfuls of water down his throat; he knew he was dehydrated and had to take it slow. Realizing none of his previous introductions had stuck he raised his hand to point to himself, “Aesgar Bardulfsun.” giving himself his proper name instead of the Scalian way. Taking another slow drink of her water, he smiled. “Thank you Maite.”


Confusion crossed his face as she mentioned taking him somewhere and wariness passed through him. “OK I’ll go with you to see Jaunko” The word felt odd and foreign in his mouth as he began to gather himself getting to his knees he stayed unsteadily for a moment before groaning as he rose to his feet. Every Muscle ached and shook with weakness. “Just let me gather my things.”


Stumbling to the small wooden ship that had been his home for so long, he began to gather his arms and armor. With a groan from him, the Chain mail tunic clinked and chimed its way down his body. “One eyes bollocks, I hurt.” Pick up his sword he belted it and his long knife around his waist fixing his round buckler across his shoulders. Finally picking up his helmet, He surveyed the rest of his craft. “The Sea couldn’t kill me because of this ship “He spoke in Scalian Knowing she probably could not understand him “I never thought I could get attached to a life raft.” Suddenly he laughed a loud boisterous sound exploding from his mouth and lungs hearing it echo across the beach “I am Aesgar son of King Bardulf, behold my kingdom.”


Still chuckling, his voice now a bit wheezy, he turned back to his savior. “Forgive me Maite, I didn’t mean to startle you. It has been a rough few weeks. Please take me to this Jaunko.”

Maite stood and took back her waterskin, fastening it shut and hanging it at her side. "Welcome, Aesgar Bardulfson." It was a strange name. She felt he had said part of it before, but she hadn't been sure it was a name at all. At least it was better than the name of the interloper Jaunko. Addan and Vergus, or something like that; she had heard Ekain speak of them, never with anything good to say, of course.

He had a lot of the metal armor that the interlopers had. She had not seen it much, but they had some captured in the Central Camp. It was touched with some kind of magic, and harder than other metal. He was talking, but she couldn't understand him. It was, however, quite clear that if he tried to carry all that armor they would never get to the Central Camp.

"We ride horse," she said, pointing toward Pinpil and motioning for him to get on. "Yes?" If he couldn't ride, she would at least take his armor. The horse was small, but very strong, like all of the Ekaini horses. She could carry them both and the armor without a problem. It would be a little strange to sit so close to him, but if he had any sense of decency he would not try to harm her after she'd saved his life.

Besides, she kept a small bronze knife in her belt.

The weight of Aesgar’s armaments drug on his limbs the items that usually gave him such security now seemed bound and determined to drag him to his death. Riding made the most sense but at first glance he hadn’t though the girls pony could carry them both. On a closer examination however and with a clearer mind he put to use the skills his father had taught him in judging the animals. There was considerable strength to the small horse and speed as well if he was any judge. Trying to Walk in his current condition would be foolish and probably end with him dead somewhere in this unknown land. Turning to his savior he smiled though the grin split his weather tortured lip “Alright Maite, we ride “


He had learned to Ride back home, both as a part of warfare and as a way to help his father tend the people and the herds. He was an adequate rider nothing near some of the scouts he had known and he had a feeling that this slip of a girl would also show him up. “Just take it easy ok?”


He watched Maite call the animal and lithely swing her self astride. With a wary look and tired muscles he attempted to follow suit failing the first two times before clumsily mounting behind her. Once astride the animal however he paused unsure of where to place his hands. This wasn’t one of his people and while under other circumstances he’d be more than happy to try his luck and just grab on it seemed rude to take such liberties with someone who had worked so diligently to save his life. After a few moments confusion he muttered an apology and slipped his arm under hers in order to find a handhold in the horse’s mane. He knew the lack of food and water had made him weak and really didn’t want to be left out in the middle of nowhere. “Alright Maite, I think I’m set”