athelstanthescribe | (no subject)

(no subject)

Athelstan has got used to snatching a few hours of restless sleep most nights, and going back to the work room as soon as he wakes. He very rarely sleeps in Milliways, unless Sinric is there.

This night is unusual, not least because he has fallen asleep alone in their room upstairs - and the dream is different too.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Er, what?" Leif says.

Apparently, people don't see everything from Valhalla.

"Of course everybody can see that you're cleverer and know more than any two of us put together, and Ragnar needs you and your knowledge, your curiosity, your learning and your languages to deal with those swollen-headed Christians out there who think we're savages."

He blinks, readjusting his thinking, and nods quickly.

"That's why some of them hate me."

"Which is even more stupid of them," Leif laughs, "because their success depends on Ragnar's, and Ragnar needs your knowledge as much as Floki's ships."

"But Leif", he says quietly, "though my knowledge hasn't left me, what if I can't go where he goes?"

"You don't suddenly get seasick, do you?"

Leif looks at him kindly, from his huge height.

"Other than that, don't worry. Ragnar needs you, and he'll keep you safe."

"England is - " He shudders, sudden and involuntary. "I want no more of it."

"There's other countries to raid," Leif says. "Ever been to Ireland?"

"...once. I visited a monastery there."

"So you'd probably rather not raid," Leif says. "I get that. But you could go and establish a settlement."

"I don't mind taking gold and silver. That can be replaced. But shedding the blood of those who don't fight..." He nods. "I would like to make a settlement, and Ragnar wants that too."

"Shed the blood of people who do fight, so the ones that don't know what stuff you're made of and don't bother you when you settle among them and are up to the elbows in goat shit," Leif laughs.

He smiles a little at that.

"You have a point."

"Goat shit," Leif says sagely, "is one of the eternal facts of the world, and much more enduring than any king."

"Not only goats. The British Isles are good farming land. There are cows."

"Cows!" Leif says. "Even better. And their manure is even better, too, so the crops grow even better still, and everybody has to eat until the next harvest. It's worth taking some risks for."

He smiles more honestly at that.

"Ah, Leif. You and Ragnar, both farmers at heart."

"Yes, we are," Leif says. "People have to eat, and that's what we take care of. The greatest stack of hacksilver is useless without bread and cheese, honey, meat, eggs to buy for it; and probably the occasional spinach leaf as well."

"Spinach leaves? Really?"

"Yes, they're foodstuff," Leif says, deadpan. "Turn your shit green if you eat too much of them."

Beat.

"Supposed to be terribly healthy. Say the women who grow them in their vegetable gardens."

"They're as good for you as beef", Athelstan says absently. "Give you strength. But I've never eaten that much of them."

"You can have the spinach if I can keep the beef," Leif laughs.

Beat.

"But really, Athelstan, you'll do fine. Ragnar needs you to fully be his glorious self, and he'll take care of you."

"He'll do all he can. I know he will."

But he's worried for his own sanity, some days.

"As you will do your best," Leif says. "And together, you'll help secure the future of our people, my friends and relatives."

"Ragnar has taken care of your mother", Athelstan assures him, sudden but quiet. "As far as he could."

"I'm glad," Leif says. "She's a proud woman, and will miss both my father and me quite a lot."

Pause.

"But then, she knows we're in Valhalla, feasting among the einherjar."