The Viking's Captive

[Rhovan]

Gunnar, Viking from the North

Gunnar was busy with the fire, when Brihanna, who had been resting on the table suddenly arrived beside him and spoke in her soft voice. All he understood was his name, but then she motioned to his arm and gave him a tired smile. Offering up his arm to her, he watched her poke and prod at the wound, the stiches and the surrounding area. She seemed happy about it, as far as Gunnar could tell; so Gunnar lifted his tunic over his head in one motion and turned to face away from Brihanna, so she could look at the wound on his back. A prod and a poke, and she was patting Gunnar's side to let him know she had finished. She smiled, still very tired, but in general happy about the look of the wound. Gunnar beamed a smile back, as if it was his doing that kept it so clean and maintained, but in reality, she had sewed them up so well, he had forgotten they were there. Just another scar on a canvas of scars. His smile brightened as she said something else to him, but again, all he understood was his name. Then she stood and wearily dragged herself back to the table, laying her head down on her folded arms.

Gunnar set about prepairing a meal for them, some rye bread and another slice of the cheese for both of them. He put it on the table and rubbed Brihanna's shoulder until she looked up. She ate very little, then she rested her head again. She was just too tired to stay awake. After eating his own portion, and placing Brihanna's off on the butcher block, Gunnar woke her by calling her name. She shifted, but stayed there, so he picked her up to her feet with a hand on either shoulder. She merely leaned against his chest, seemingly ready to sleep there. Then her eyes fell on the bed, and she immediatly stuck her feet out in front of her, bracing herself so Gunnar could no longer push her forward without becoming very violent or causing her pain. Gunnar looked confused for a moment. "No Brihanna...sleep.." Gunnar started to mimic the signs of sleeping to Brihanna, though she clearly didn't trust him. Finally she gave in and went to crawl into the pile of furs, only to be stopped by a slight tug on the back of her tunic. She shook her head side to side, a clear signal that she wished to keep it on, but Gunnar lifted the tunic up and off of her before she thought to grab on with her hands. She stood there for a moment, shame paralysing her until Gunnar pushed a bit and she tipped like a felled tree into the soft pile of furs. With a few tugs and tosses, he had Brihanna safely and warmly nestled into the furs. Only to be thanked by her soft even breathing, as she was already unconcious.

Gunnar set about readying everything for the morning, banking the fire so it would burn through the night, letting the dog into the house who immediatly crawled under the bed, for the inevitably trapped heat down there. Gunnar sat at the table and thought for awhile. About his past mate, about Brihanna...about the curious effect his feelings were having as the two women melded in his mind. Gunnar was as confused by his thoughts as Brihanna was, but he didn't know how to express himself to her, or her to him. Instead, Gunnar stripped down and climbed into bed himself. Not wanting to waste the night away in idle and unproductive thought.

The really curious part was, when Gunnar climbed into bed, Brihanna immdiately snugged up to him. Gunnar was fairly certain she hated sleeping with him. He was positive she hated him when his lust got the better of him, and she didn't often show to much happyness. He didn't know if she was always so dour, or if it was just him that caused her to act so. Yet here she was, her naked body close to his and under her own volition. She had even slipped an arm across his chest. Gunnar did the only thing he could think of, he wrapped his arm around her, made sure she was comfortable and drifted off to sleep himself.

The night passed uneventually for the pair. The only one who had any excitement was the dog, who caught himself a rat in the night. Silently dispatching and then consuming the rat, the fire burned low, and the pair slept on.

Gunnar woke early, as he was want to do. He usually had a lot of work ahead of him, as he silently and stoicly improved his life with new additons to his hut home, and crafting items to trade and barter. This morning however, he got up and slowly, and carefully untangling himself from the sleeping form of Brihanna, he restoked the fire, and got it burning bright. Then he went to the door to let the dog out, to be greeted by the rat carcase that remained. Tossing the rat into the yard, Gunnar shooed the dog out and shut the door behind it, catching sight of the dog bounding and rolling in the relativly tall grass of the yard. Gunnar prepped breakfast, of a thick vegeitable stew with more bread and cheese and then went to awaken Brihanna.

Looking down on the angelic features of the sleeping woman, Gunnar found it hard to keep his hands to himself. But he needed to wake her up, so he slid onto the bed next to her, still naked as he slept the night before. He gently placed his hand on Brihanna's chest, right above and centered between her breasts; the spot she seemed to not be able to stand his hand being. She lay there, still asleep, so Gunnar started to move his fingers about, tickling across the furs and her skin beneath. She stirred. Then she moved trying to move his hand without waking up. But finally, moving slowly, Brihanna's eyes finally opened and looked up at Gunnar, who smiled down at her, his hand moved back to where she disliked it being placed, and he said her name, as he always did when his hand touched there. "Brihanna."

“Brianna,” she corrected. Gunnar looked confused, nodded, and repeated her name to her. “Brihanna.”

“Brianna,” she corrected again. Gunnar was at a loss, he was saying what she was saying, yet she continued to correct him. He tried again, this time his voice more insistant. “Brihanna!”

“Brihanna... Gunnar.” Was all he got out of what she said, but she smiled, so Gunnar smiled back, his mouth moving to swallow his ears. Apprently, Brihanna finally noticed the location of Gunnar's hand, and she shoved it upward again. As she did this, Gunnar picked his hand up from her chest and took ahold of her hand in his. He folded all of her fingers down, except her index finger. "Finger." He waved it around a bit, so she knew he ment the finger. She responded with the word, so he pointed to her palm, then her whole hand, as she repeated each word after him. Then he pointed to her arm, her shoulders, neck, head, hair, ears, nose, everything he could see. He wanted her to know the word for everything. Then he looked to Brihanna's eyes, his hands coming to rest gently on her cheeks, holding her face lightly as he looked into her eyes. "Your eyes are the green of the deep ocean..." Gunnar said softly, but then she started to squirm, obviously uncomfortable. Gunnar quickly released her face, seeing that she was unhappy with the sudden turn of events, and not wishing to anger her anymore. The next place Gunnar's hand landed was Brihanna's stomach. "Mage..." but she was no longer playing a game with Gunnar, as indeed he was not playing either. She whispered the word, her whole body poised to run, and Gunnar again got swept up in the past emotions of his lost mate, and the beautiful woman in front of him.

Gunnar's hands started to move on their own, a similar scene playing itself out in Gunnar's mind. Curiously, the woman in his mind looked less like his past mate this time. As if she were slowly turning into Brihanna. His mind slowly moving from the past to the present, from his mate to this woman before him, the scared slave in his life. But the memories wouldn't be denied, so Gunnar pulled the furs off of Brihanna, tossing them to the floor, all thoughts of teaching and breakfast forgotten. Brihanna started to roll, but Gunnar placed his hand down on her shoulder, forcing her to her back, then his hand slipped around her body and cupped her right breast gently, his thumb landing on her nipple and his ears hearing her gasp of shock as a moan of appreciation.

Brihanna shoved Gunnar's hands from her, and flipped herself up on her side. She scrambled forward, her progress impeaded by the ropes and furs of the bed. Gunnar sat there for a moment, watching the woman crawling away from him. He thought for a moment, about how his mate loved this particular variant to the festivites. But this was the curious half mate/half slave woman in Gunnar's mind. "I wonder.." Gunna thought to himself for a moment, "No way to know until I try.." Then he reached forward and grabbed ahold of Brihanna's ankle, just as she got her hands to the edge of the bed. For a moment, it was a tug of war using Brihanna's body, but Gunnar easily proved the victor, pulling Brihanna backward, closer and closer to his own body. She clawed at the bed, kicked with her feet; did anything she could to stay away from Gunnar, but it was no use. He was too strong, she too weak and tired and confused by the sudden turn of events. As soon as he had her legs pulled back as far as he could get them on either side of his legs, he slid his hands up her calves, thighs and to her hips, jerking her up onto her hands and knees quickly.

Shuffling his feet quickly, he shoves most of the furs out from under his legs, his knees inside of Brihanna's knees and spreading her legs wide. Gunnar was lost to the lust of his body. He belatedly thought that he should have releaved himself when he first got up, but the thought fled as he sunk his cock deep into Brihanna's partially spread sex. It was one, swift movement, his shaft driving and spreading her until his hips smacked against her ass in a soft smacking sound. He very clearly heard Brihanna's voice in the sudden silence... "No Gunnar!" She said it in her language, but he knew what she ment. She obviously wanted him to stop, and he heard her crying softly, trying to keep herself upright with her hands as she gave up to Gunnar's thrusting.

She was no longer fighting him, and Gunnar took that as a good sign, as his animalistic lust forced more rational thoughts from his head. He slid himself out halfway, before pressing himself back in, as fast he could manage it. Then he pulled back nearly all the way, and thrust himself back in with abandon. Having set himself a pace, he went to it with gusto. Pulling back as far as he could but still remain in the tight, hot entrance to Brihanna's sex, and then shoving himself back into her as fast as he could until his hips hit her backside. Gunnar was growling and panting with his movements, more out of pleasure than any exertion would cause him. Gunnar's eyes shut tightly as he moved against Brihanna, his forceful thrusts causing her to rock forward with his inthrusts, and lean backward when his hands kept him from pulling back anymore.

Gunnar, being naturally blessed with stamina, and having been releaved two times in recent history was able to take his time and draw the encounter out. It was certainly a moment for Gunnar, obviously using the body of the woman that was half his memories and half flesh and blood. He went for many long minutes, but the pace he set for himself was still bringing him to the edge of release faster than he would normally wish. His body just didn't care, as his mind swept through his memories and half seen glimpses of reality. Finally, after a score of minutes, Gunnar started to thrust harder and faster, getting very close to his climax. And then it happened, Gunnar pressed himself into her body as far as he could, folding over her back, his arms wrapping tightly around Brihanna's stomach as his balls clenched up tight to his body and emptied their contents into Brihanna's body. Gunnar's voice was panting in Brihanna's ear, and it took her a moment to relised he was panting her name, over and over again as his cock twitched and spasmed inside of her, forcing his seed deep into her body.

Gunnar stayed there, latched to Brihanna for a couple of minutes, even after his body had stopped spasming and climaxing. Then Gunnar rolled onto his side, pulling Brihanna with him, holding her close to his body, his hard cock keeping his seed trapped inside of her body as he basked in the feelings of their joining. Only then did he remember she was crying, tears etching courses down her face as he held her close, his cock slowly softing inside of her body.

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[Rhovan]

Gunnar, Viking from the North

Gunnar had relaxed across the bed, when she moved up and away from him, pulling herself off of his hardness as he lay there. For a moment he thought she just shifted, but then he looked up and she was rapidly pulling her tunic over her head. Gunnar looked puzzled, but then she moved towards the door. "Brihanna! Wait!" Gunnar called, trying to get off the bed. She was out the door, and Gunnar was stuck. During their tryst, the furs had moved and Gunnar had just placed his leg through the robe webbing. He stumbled and fell across the ropes hard, managing to get himself out of the furs and hemp strands and falling heavily to the floor. Gunnar gasped in pain as he hit the floor. It wasn't the fall really, though he did smack his right cheek against the rough floor boards, which inevitably would cause a nice bruise across his flesh. No, the gasp of pain came from the fact that Gunnar's leg was still caught up in the ropes of the bed, twisting at his knee cruelly as he fell below the level of the bed.

Gunnar pushed himself over onto his back with his arms, then reached up and caught hold of the edge of the bed. With a heave he pulled himself up and forward by his arms until he forced himself up on his feet, where he promptly pulled his leg out of the ropes. Gunnar turned to rush out of the hut, to catch Brihanna before she did anything that would cause problems in the village. He stepped forward and his leg buckled behind him, sending him crashing into the edge of the table heavily. Gunnar stood, the edge of the table having caught him just below the ribs on his chest, the pain from that impact preventing Gunnar from relising the stitches in his back had popped, nearly all of them. His back started to ooze blood against as Gunnar forced himself to his feet and started to shuffle hop out of the hut.

He passed the dog without another thought, the little mangy beast running around the yard as if it were all a game they were playing. Gunnar fought with the gate for a moment, and finally shoved it open, hobbling through, naked and desperate to catch up to Brihanna. He couldn't see where she was, as the spot that she had chosen to stop at was just on the other side of a little rise, and a sharp switch in the direction of the path. Gunnar shuffled along, happy that it was still very early in the morning, and thus preventing anyone from seeing him hobble like an invalid down the path after his supposed 'slave.'

Gunnar moved in pained silence, well aware that he was going entirely too slow to catch up to her. He only hopped he could arrive before anything bad happened. If she were to fall and hurt herself, or cross one of the men of the village that didn't take so kindly to her status...Gunnar forced the thoughts from his mind. He couldn't afford to think of such things, not when she was so caught up in the images of his past mate, and rapidly becoming such a large part of his day. He didn't know what he would do if something happened to her.

Gunnar climbed the small rise, and came around the corner to find Brihanna sitting in the middle of the path. She had her knees drawn up to her chest, her chin on her knees and her arms wrapped around her legs. Gunnar slowed down as he spotted her. He didn't know what she had planned to do, but she didn't do it, whatever it was. She had apprently stopped in her flight, and Gunnar could see that she was no longer crying. Gunnar slowed his movement, half because he didn't want to rush up on Brihanna in her silent revere, and half because his leg would no longer take the kind of abuse his fast shuffle/hop was causing. He slowed down until he was barely moving, as he approached Brihanna's back.

He walked up beside her, and slumped down into a heap beside her. For a moment, she didn't look, not wanting to see Gunnar again at the moment, but when he just lay there, she turned to see what game he was playing at. She didn't see what she expected to see. Gunnar lay mostly flat on his back, his right leg out straight and the knee largly swollen. His left leg was bent at the knee, which screened his loins from just about everyone except Brihanna. His sex lay flaccid and coated in the juices of their joining, laying up on his stomach as if to point to the large red welt that would soon be a bruise running under the line of his ribs. Gunnar smiled as best he could, his right cheek having started to swell from where it hit the floor hard. He reached up a shaky right hand to her chest, where he always placed it. Too low and near to Brihanna's breasts and said her name, though it was a bit garbled because of the swelling. "Brith-anna."

Gunnar could see the sudden panic and confusion well up in Brihanna's eyes. He waved his hand in front of her, as if to ward off her fears. Then he rolled himself onto his hands and one foot, keeping his right leg straight behind himself. As he rolled, Brihanna could clearly see that the wound on his back had opened again, and leaked bright red blood across his back and down towards his buttocks. Gunnar straightened himself out, coming to a wavering stand as his face was caught up in a grimace of pain from his chest. He did not wave away Brihanna's helping shoulder as she led him back to his hut.

Gunnar didn't remember the return trip too well, almost ready to swoon from the pain of it all. But he made it back to the hut in one piece, without anyone observing their passing. When they got back, it was to an amazing sight for Brihanna.

First, the gate stood open and the dog was busy chasing the goose around the area in front of Gunnar's yard. Past that, the door to the hut stood open, and for a moment when they first entered, she thought that a fight had taken place. The table was on it's side, both chairs scattered across the room. The ropes on the bed were snarled and far from propperly laid now, and the furs were shoved and thrown about in his scramble to get to his feet. It was as if a whirlwind had hit the room, and that whirlwind was named Gunnar. He righted his chair, the larger uncomfortable one and sat down, so that his leg stuck out straight in front of him. Gunnar grimaced from the pain again. He had botched things badly. He looked to Brihanna, sorrow in his eyes.

"I'th suorry Birth-anna." Gunnar looked down at the floor, ashamed of his actions, ashamed of his reaction.

But most of all, ashamed of his weakness.

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[Rhovan]

Mighty Slow server this morn'n!

 

[Rhovan]

Gunnar, Viking from the North

Gunnar rested fitfully through the remainder of the day. He was groggy from the blow to his head, and he slept probably more than he should have. At first, in his mind, all he could feel was cold. He wasn't sure why, but he was freezing, his body quakeing violently as it attempted to warm itself. He had spent too much time outside, shuffling along in the cold morning air when he had followed Brihanna, only to be led back inside at a painful crawl. Then she had to wrap his leg in cold compresses and he felt chilled to the bone.

But through the haze of mind numbing cold, Gunnar felt two points of warmth on his back, one on either shoulder blade. At first, they were tiny points, but then they increased in size and suddenly, his whole back was pressed against something warm. Then he felt a line of warmth running over his side and against his chest. Slowly, from the warmth pressed to his body, his own body responded. The shivering slowed down, and the air around the two of them under the furs started to warm to a comfortable level. Gunnar rest followed the warming of his body, slowly shifting from a featureless fog of near frozen air to a warm den of comfort. Unremarkable at first, but the sort of background one needs for a plesant dream.

And Gunnar did dream. Once the air under the furs was warm, and Brihanna eventually slipped out to eat, Gunnar found himself remembering, and dreaming. Back to long past times that he tried hard to block from his mind because of the pain that always welled up with them. Dreams of his mate, his lover, and his best friend. She had hair the color of corn silk, and eyes as blue as the sky in on crisp and clear morning. Everyone had said she was the most beautiful maid in the village. All of the men vied for her attention, trying to impress her with wealth, or feats of strength or prowess. Even some of the men who were already mated joined in the fun, in an attempt to win the woman's heart. And while she never said anything, her heart belonged to Gunnar and it always had.

They grew up, playing in the same noisy and rowdy band of children, Gunnar and his mate. They played Come-into-my-castle, and she was always the damsel in distress, needing to be rescued by her heroic viking raider. The game was pretty simple really, she would stand on one side of a large mud puddle that was bisected by a plank of wood. At the end of the wood nearest to her was the first person to make it across the bridge. Then the rest of the children would try to rush past the bridge and the defender, one at a time. Gunnar was never the first child across the bridge, but he was always the hardest to defeat once he got the blocking position. Defending the young maiden from the advances of the evil forces. Usually the game ended with everyone in the mud, including the young maiden as she was never one for being left out of anything. That was just the start of their relationship.

As they grew, and the children spent less time in a pack and more time learning their respective trades, Gunnar and his mate spent all the time they could together. At first, they didn't know that their feelings for one another was anything other than a firm friendship, but the first time Gunnar had been sent on a raid, she had cried for his eventual return. Gunnar did return, and with a great amount of loot as well, with which he used to build his humble home in the hill side, and to purchase some sheep for extra clothes and income. Gunnar eventually wooed her away from the dozens of suitors and took her as his mate, and into his home.

They lived together for a handful of years, the best years of Gunnar's life. He was one of the most successful raiders of his Jarl, and she was the most loving and beautiful mate that a man could ask for. And towards the end of their time together, she had even grown great with child. To bless the village with another fine, strong child with which to raid or cultivate or mother. It was soon after a raid, that everything started to sour.

Gunnar returned from a long sea voyage, laden down with all the plunder her could get from the coasts of the neighbouring lands. He hurried home to see his mate, to show her all the things he had gotten and to tell her about all the wonderous sights he'd seen. But she wasn't at his hut, so he immediatly went to the midwife to see if she had given birth. His mate was there, but she was deathly still and covered in a shroud. The midwife stopped him at the door and told him what had happened. She had gone into labour, something went wrong, and she passed from this world to the next with her child. A little girl child.

Gunnar raged for days, he tore sections of his fence down with his bare hands, and threw his recent haul of good out across the pathes and into the yards of those that lived near his home. His sheep escaped and Gunnar hid himself in his hut for many days, nigh onto a month. When he returned, he looked like he had been to hell itself. He had lost quite some weight, as he apprently had stopped eating. His once full and muscular frame had become a hard edge, thin and wirey as if he himself were a blade. He left on the next raid that was sent out, and when he came back, all he had were coins. He didn't need any goods, he just kept the coins to keep himself in food long enough for the next raid to start. He became the most violent and powerful raider the village had; so much so, the breserkers were afraid to go near him when he had his axes in hand.

Several years past, and slowly his murderous desires ran their course. He no longer felt he had to kill everyone to raid a town, and he returned to his previous stance, kill only those that tried to stop him. He started to flesh out again, and he repaired his fence and his home, as time had slowly helped repair the hole in his heart. He was still haggard and only a fraction of the man he was before, but he started to talk to people again, and almost became the Gunnar they had all known previously. And everyone soon found out that talking of his mate, would quickly bring back the scary dangerous Gunnar, so she disappeared from converstation, it just became something none of them talked about.

Gunnar dreamed and thought and remember all of these things and more. He thought of her, standing there before him, her melodic laugh filling his ears and her smile filling his world with joy. And it was a pleasent dream, very pleasent. Almost erotic. But then his mate started to change. It was subtle at first, her eyes changing a shade from the blue they normally were. Her hair going a shade darker, the slight movement of her cheek bones, the change in her smile.

Gunnar didn't know exactly what was going on, but he wasn't scared by the change. He was oddly comforted. She continued to shift into another person, and for some reason, Gunnar was assailed by wonderfully erotic and pleasent sensations. The changes in the woman started more rapidly, until suddenly Gunnar was confronted by the sight of Brihanna, in his mind, in his dream and obviously attached to the feelings of pleasure, the rapid build up of pressure in his body.

Gunnar moaned, stirred and finally his eyes opened. He looked down, surprised that the pleasureable feelings hadn't stopped just yet. Surprised to see a small, feminine hand wrapped around his cock and pumping it slowly, as if she was unaware of what to do next. But she didn't need to do anything next, Gunnar's hips thrust upward and he growled out his release, his cum shooting straight into the air in a half dozen powerful spurts, then the next couple contractions send more cum running over the crown of his cock and down onto Brihanna's hand. The hand she had just used to pleasure Gunnar. He looked at her, baffled at why she had just done that for him, and smiling because his seed was everywhere. On her hand, in her hair, a small spot on her cheek, on his chest and arms, all over the furs he laid on. He panted one word, because he couldn't think of anything else to say. "Brihanna..."

 

[McKenna]

.

 

[Rhovan]

Gunnar, Viking from the North

He looked down his chest, at the woman that had just moments ago held his cock tightly in her tiny fist. A woman, who from the looks and feel of things, had just brought him off while he was asleep. Though she didn't have a look of pride on her face, she looked ashamed. She looked to Gunnar's eyes for a moment, her face as red as it had ever been in front of him, then she pulled back her hand as if his cock was red hot, and in a way, it was. She didn't look away, which was new for her. Usually she immediatly hid her eyes, but this time, she instead stared straight back, as if taunting him to say something, albeit with a bit of a guilty look on her face.

“Gunnar, I …. I’m … I’m sorry.“ Then she did duck her head, looking down to her offending hand in her lap, her hand that was still covered in Gunnar's seed. He didn't know what she said, not exactly, but her actions along with the tone of her voice made him aware of her meaning. She was feeling rather contrite. Gunnar struggled to a sitting position, his chest and knee throbbing painfully, his wound feeling like a pull in his back but his face feeling fine though badly bruised. He got himself to a sitting position with only one sigh and a grunt of pain. She started to get up, but to either lay him back down or to run away again, he didn't know. For being hurt, he was still amazingly fast, catching ahold of her hand and pulling her over closer to himself. His right hand came up, and she flinched away as if he was about to strike her.

Only to feel the wet cloth from the bowl that was sitting, ignored to her side, start to brush against her hair lightly. When she looked back, she was amazed to see Gunnar quietly and patiently working his seed from her hair, every tiny glob, then brushing against her over sized tunic some, leaving just tiny little water marks behind. As he brushed her tunic, he noticed how poorly it fit her, how comical she looked. But he ignored that for the moment as he picked up her hand and started to wash away the large remenants of his spend from her hand. Soon he had them both clean, his cock resting limp against his thigh, the bowl filled with his sweat, his seed, what she washed from his wound on his side, and the spring water from before. Gunnar turned to stand, and she took the bowl from his hands, as if that was what he ment. She motioned for him to stay standing, then she went out the front door and dumped the bowl, followed by a short chase as she tried to keep the dog away from the rapidly diminishing puddle. When she got back though, Gunnar wasn't in be although he was still just as naked as before.

She rushed to his side, to get him to lay down again, as he was obviously favoring his hurt knee but other than that, he didn't seem to feel, or at least aknowledge that he felt his other wounds. She found him leaning over the now open trunk, the trunk filled with all the beautiful garments she had found unbeknownst to him the night before. She had rushed straight to his side, only to arrive in time for him to toss the garment over his shoulder and over her head. He turned when he relised she was there, and she pulled the garment off her head. He put his hand between where hers grasped the tunic and he pushed it towards her, until his hand touched her chest, centered and just above her breasts like he always did. "Brihanna," he said simply, then he turned to the trunk again, pulling out some small clothes, which she hadn't worn since she was stripped on the deck of the ship. He turned and pushed those into her hands as well. Then he picked up the knife, of beutiful craftsman ship and carved with runes. He set it on a fur on the bed for the moment, until he could dig out a wide belt, and a pouch. He turned to Brihanna who still seemed to just stare at Gunnar as if she didn't know what to do.

Gunnar sighed, then smiled as he reached out, grasped her hand and pulled her near to the bed. He pulled the items from her hands and set them on the bed, then he stripped the tunic up and off of her body before she had a chance to react. Well, to react in more ways than just blushing furiously at him and bringing her hands up to ward her body from his sight. He in turn, crouched over in front of her, holding the small clothes open so she could step into them, which she did after several hesitant seconds. Then he dragged them up her hips until they covered her lower body, blocking them from his sight. He turned then and took the smaller tunic, the one sized for a woman and brought it down over her head, she barely had enough time to get her arms out straight above her head. He smiled and picked up the belt, hooking it around her waist and belting it on her, the pouch hanging comfortably on her right hip. He picked up the dagger and tucked it under the belt, on her left hip, so if she pulled the sheath would stay behind. He sat down on the edge of the bed, to admire his handy work, she stood there open mouthed.

For several long seconds, they stood like that, then a familiar voice shouted from outside. Gunnar looked over to Brihanna, motioned to his ear, then to the door and said, "Bjørn," then he stood walked to the door and threw it open, in time for the other large man to come in without breaking stride. Gunnar shut the door, oblivious to the fact that he was naked. They exhanged pleasentries and then Bjørn got down to the business at hand.

"What has happened Gunnar? Did you get in a fight I've not heard about?" Bjørn asked with some apparent concern.

"Nono...I fell. I got tangled in the ropes of the bed and I fell, I shall be fine. Nothing was broken except a stitch or two, but Brihanna here fixed it. She is good with a needle." Gunnar pointed to Brihanna and smiled.

"About your wench there, Brihanna," Bjørn spat. "You treat her better than most men here treat their mates! Why do you act like a soft Gaelic man? You should be a strong Viking and put her in her place!"

Gunnar looked shocked for a moment, then he just looked angry. "Do not talk about her in such ways! She is a good woman and undeserving of our ire! She didn't ask to come her, and she is making the best of it even when she has to share my bed!"

"You coddle your slave Gunnar!" Bjørn was barely keeping himself from shouting, and Gunnar was responding in kind, though he didn't look near as imposeing as Bjørn because of his multiple wounds and that fact that he was naked and unarmed; whilst Bjørn was fully armed and armored.

"She is not a slave Bjørn! Or can you not understand that! If I could release her, I would!" Gunnar shouted back. Bjørn laughed then, not a laugh of humor, but a laugh of derision. He made motion towards Brihanna, and then dragged a finger across his own neck. "I will release her right now!"

Gunnar shouted back, "You shall do no thing while she is under my protection! Now get ye gone from my home before I take true offence to your words Bjørn!" Gunnar's voice was oddly soft and calm; more a threat than any shouted words could be. Bjørn nodded curtly, turned on his heel and left. It was an amazing shouting match to be had near the break of dawn.

Unfortunatly, Gunnar's quiet threat, while effective against Bjørn, was mis-understood by Brihanna. When he turned to look at her, she held the knife from her belt in her hand, and she had backed herself as far into the corner as she could. She waved the blade as menacingly as she could at Gunnar, thinking he had given in to Bjørn's implied order with the finger across her throat. Gunnar's face broke, she didn't trust him, she'd probably never trusted him. Not that he could really blame her, she was his captive after all. But it hurt none the less. Then the sound of a not so distant horn was heard, and Gunnar seemed to forget Brihanna, as he quickly started to get dressed. Or at least, as quickly as he could with his injuries.

 

[McKenna]

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