athelstanthescribe | (no subject)

There is somebody standing in the garden, big and strong, the back of his head shaven, bare shoulders covered in tattoos, whistling as he looks up at that moon.

When Athelstan comes to the window, he turns around.

He knows those tattoos. He saw every detail of them, as the man below him walked to the altar. His throat goes dry.

"Leif?"

He turns fully, and waves. "Hello, Athelstan!"

He sounds cheerful, for somebody whom Athelstan last saw hanging upside-down from a tree, throat gut, bleeding out to the last drop.

"...what are you doing out there?"

It's not what he meant to ask, but the words of more meaningful questions won't form themselves.

"It's a nice night for it," Leif calls up. "Why don't you come down?"

He looks down at himself, realises he's inexplicably fully dressed, and nods.

"All right."

"You've got some nice woods here," Leif says. "But no temple, just a Christian church."

"There is no temple because no one has built one." He walks up beside Leif, looking up at him.

Leif has always been the tallest of the group of Ragnar's Vikings, even taller than his father Erik; he looks down at Athelstan from a great height, smiling.

"You could hang little offerings in a tree, just to balance things out," Leif suggests. "It doesn't have to be big things, dead things like me."

Athelstan flinches at that.

"Yes, we could. The gods walk here."

"And the gods here don't ask for big offerings," Leif nods. "That's nice of them. Ours are harsher."

Edited 2015-10-29 23:44 (UTC)

"I remember", he says softly. "Leif - "

"I'm not angry at you, Athelstan," Leif assures him.

"You never were", Athelstan says. "I could see it on your face. But I don't understand."

"No?" Leif says. "Somebody had to go, and I volunteered. The same thing sometimes happens in battle, or during a raid."

"But why?" It's nearly pleading. "Why you, in my place?"

Leif stops, and puts a large hand on Athelstan's shoulder.

"It had nothing to do with you," he says, "and very little with me, either, truth be told. Ragnar had to sacrifice somebody, somebody whom he would bitterly miss, to make himself felt as a peer among the earls. It was another flavour of battle, and he couldn't afford to lose you. You're unique for what you know; I'm just brawn. Take two Arnes, and you've almost replaced me."

He grins. "Arne will resent that, but that's half the fun."

"You weren't just brawn." He looks up into Leif's face, not moving away from the hand on his shoulder. "And Ragnar is not the only one who missed you, my friend."

"No, not just brawn," Leif allows. "Take two of me, and you almost get the thinking capacity of the likes of Ragnar, or yourself."

Beat.

"Did you miss me, or did you feel guilty because you thought I'd died for you?"

"You were the first person to call me by my name", Athelstan says quietly. "Even Ragnar was still calling me 'priest' then. I missed you."

"There's more than one priest, but only one Athelstan," Leif says. "Ragnar knows that as well, but it took him longer to acknowledge. I hope the others didn't give you too much trouble over it. Does Floki still insist he hates your guts?"

That gets a small wry smile.

"Most of the time. Occasionally he forgets."

Leif grins. "Always too curious for his own good, or his own traditions," he says. "And that's a good thing. Tradition doesn't send new ships over the high seas."

"Or learn any new way of doing things", Athelstan agrees. "Even if it may be better."

"Faith makes Floki strong when he thinks he's strange or very different," Leif says. "But really, his work speaks from him and his worth. Nobody doubts that except him. But that's people; we're none of us completely simple."

He pokes Athelstan on the arm.

"We saw right away that you weren't just simply a scared little monk and slave."