Pelaam(c): August 2007.
Vidarr stormed into the small town with the rest of his raiding party. Everyone separated to cover more ground, yelling loudly and swinging either axe or sword. Vidarr powered towards a medium-sized single story dwelling. He crashed through the door as it gave way under his axe's blows and the big man bellowed as loudly as he could. It was a two-fold ploy. He detested unnecessary killing and his shouts not only boosted his own courage, but served to frighten away any potential opponent. He preferred to see people running from him. He kicked open an inner door and screamed at the figure he could see in the dim light.
Roderick stopped his futile struggles against the thick rope that bound his iron-clad ankle to the thick ring embedded in the floor. He gazed up in unadulterated fear at the demon that stood shrieking maniacally at him from the doorway. The horned hat, the thick, dirty blond mane and beard, the fierce blue eyes that seemed to bore into his very soul and the sheer, raw, almost animalistic masculinity of the creature shook him to his core. As the being roared again, Roderick could do no more than cover his face with his hands as his body shook uncontrollably with fear and sobbed.
"Not hurt I. Please."
Vidarr stood stunned. As dark as this one was Vidarr could understand, through thickly accented speech, his own language. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dimness, he could see the figure was a boy or youth. Dark hair fell in waves to past his slender shoulders. His skin was the colour of mead or honey. He was dressed in a rough tunic that barely skimmed his jewels. Hardly long enough to keep him decent. Vidarr thought. The boy's long, slender legs were bent and the big blond now knew why he had not run. He could see the blood where the youth had tried to work free from unforgiving metal. He could also see the broken and bloodied nails where desperation had led the dark beauty to dig at the thick hemp that held him prisoner. Not entirely understanding his motives, Vidarr held out one hand in what he hoped looked like a gesture of friendship and slowly sank to one knee beside the boy. He gently touched the bare calf leading to the foot that was held by an iron band.
Roderick felt the touch. It was not rough. The blond demon was not forcing his legs apart or trying to mount him as his mistress had promised when abandoning him to his fate. Roderick lowered his hands to regard the man properly. He could see ... concern... in the pale eyes of the barbarian.
"Not hurt I?" Roderick asked. He could speak the Viking language with some skill, but fear was disjointing his thoughts. He hoped he was making enough sense to the big male. He watched as the man struck his own chest robustly.
"Vidarr," he said.
"Roderick," he replied. He was rewarded by a big grin.
"Vidarr will not hurt Roderick," Vidarr said slowly, wanting to ensure the frightened boy understood him. "Not hurt," he repeated as he raised his axe. He held the slender calf and, with one powerful swing, cut through the rope that bound the youth.
Roderick stared. The barbarian...no, Vidarr, had freed him. He was still staring as the big man began to move away.
"Not go," Roderick pleaded, shocked he had spoken the words aloud. Still fearful brown orbs met those of intelligent blue and a frisson seemed to pass between the two men. Recovering first, Roderick crawled to a rug. "Here," he added. He pulled the rug away and slid his fingers into the knots in the wood below. He lifted a couple of pieces away and pointed down as Vidarr came to peer over his shoulder.
Vidarr gasped. There were plates and cups of gold and assorted jewellery and precious stones. It was a veritable fortune and easily accessible. With this haul, Vidarr could return proud to his boat and not risk having to hurt or kill any of the boy's townsfolk. Grinning he began to fill his sack. A small pendant that seemed out of keeping with the other booty caught his eye. As though guided by the gods, he slipped the piece inside his jerkin. He already seemed to be well rewarded for showing the youth mercy. He glanced at the angelic face and felt a familiar stirring in his groin. Roderick knelt quietly, dark curls framing the beautiful face. The tunic had slipped from a shoulder and revealed the dark disc that surrounded a nipple. Vidarr had never felt an attraction to a man other than of his own people before. Yet here he was certain, for this youth, he felt more than a simple stirring of his manhood. A sudden thought struck the big man.
Roderick blinked at the sudden change of expression as Vidarr looked at him. He watched silently as the big man stared at the raided safekeeping, the cut rope and then at him. He groaned as realisation set in. They will think either I stole the treasure or used it to buy my way to freedom. He turned anguished eyes to his unlikely saviour as though looking for an answer from Vidarr. As he did a hand reached to him.
"Come with Vidarr?" The blond felt as though his words and actions were being guided by another and yet were in keeping with the desires of his heart. He did not want to give up this living treasure, this beautiful, dark-haired boy. He watched, unaware of the breath he held. He felt as though his future happiness depended on Roderick's response. He watched as the youth looked from the floor, to the outstretched hand and finally to pleading blue eyes.
Roderick gave a soft sigh. He could be escaping the cooking pot to be roasted in the flames. He would not be safe if he remained. What choice to I really have? He asked himself. Vidarr could have raped and killed me. Shakily, he reached for the big man.
Vidarr gave a shout of victory, startling Roderick, and effortlessly pulled the boy to his feet. A soft cry had the Viking cursing his stupidity. Roderick was hurt. He eyed the tunic critically. It was obvious the garment was designed to display as much of the boy's flesh as possible whilst remaining nominally decent. The short length was barely covering his jewels and buttocks and the top would slide off one shoulder then the other. His owner clearly found the boy desirable and was displaying him shamelessly. Vidarr grunted in disgust. If the boy were his, he would want to guard such beauty. He walked around the youth before an idea struck. He removed his thick, heavy, long cape and tied it around slender shoulders. He then dropped to one knee in front of the boy.
"Back," he said simply.
"Piggyback," Roderick murmured. He grasped tightly around the powerful neck and wrapped his long limbs about Vidarr's waist. As he did, he felt his cheeks flush with shame as he realised the need for the covering. In this position, his garment had ridden high up his hips and his naked arse would have been on display. He buried his face in long, thick blond tresses and braids as he felt a strong, calloused hand support the thigh of his injured foot. With a yell, they were suddenly moving. Roderick caught occasional glimpses of other raiders as they ran and yelled through the small town. There seemed to be no prisoners, unless Roderick were to count himself.
They quickly reached the beach and Roderick buried his face in Vidarr's neck, fear and pain beginning to mount. A part of him screamed at him to run. These were not his people and, if he went, he would be taken to a land far away, never to see his home again. Another part reasoned that his own people had treated him worse than this raider and, if he stayed, he would still most likely never see his home. He could not even be certain he would be allowed to live. His mistress had shown the cruelty she was capable of by leaving him restrained, knowing the raiders were invading their town. She obviously sought his death, doubtless knowing the depravity of her husband. Holding tight to the big blond, Roderick silently prayed he had been right to trust this man.
****
Styrr stood welcoming his men back on their longboat. He was pleased to see all his warriors return safe and laden with booty that he hoped would appease their chieftain for some time. He noticed that Vidarr stood away from the other men. Styrr considered him a friend, an honourable man and a reliable, if reluctant, warrior. He lived alone in his small farmhouse, a short way outside their village. It was an unspoken secret amongst those Vidarr called friends that he had no desire to take a wife and what he did behind his closed, locked doors was no one's business but his own. Styrr watched as the men unloaded their gains amidst a general murmur of noise including laughter and backslapping. It was only after everyone else had finished that Vidarr stepped forward. Styrr recognised the look of determination and wondered what the big blond was going to say or do.
"Vidarr, my friend, you step forward last," he said smiling. "Do you have a special reason?"
"What treasure is here you may have and I will lay no claim to any portion of it," Vidarr said. He handed Styrr his sack and at the display of its contents there were murmurs of appreciation as gold and jewels were revealed. "I wish only to keep that I deem as treasure which is at my back. For that I will fight, should anyone challenge."
Styrr watched open-mouthed and slack-jawed as, with a swift manoeuvre, a slender, dark haired, beautiful boy was revealed.
