Harald at Party 2 (OneArmedYeti)
- Location
- The United States
- Pronouns
- He/They
Meant for this to be part of the same cohesive Omake as the one up there, but I couldn't figure out a good segue.
The below occured the night before the party. While I'm sharing it with everyone, only Clans Jarnblod and Blomtanja are aware that this ritual was conducted. (And certain elements of the ritual may have been downplayed to certain members of Clan Blomtanja so they wouldn't worry, and even within those clans the specifics of the prayer are between Harald and the Gods)
Content warning: non-pathological self harm
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harald kneels, his kin just out of earshot, before the labor that he, Gefjoza, Agmundr, and the strange fleshcrafted creature had constructed over the season, and remembers the last few months.
Around the edges of the perfect circle of dark soil he's in lay small effigies of the Gods that Gefjoza had carved out of glow coral, between which were earthen bowls he had drawn from the base of the ditch, filled with sparking twisted wicks of roughly processed flax.
*The details are great for their size, but I guess it's ineivitable that she was being judicious with the limited material. Still I thought she was using a bigger piece than this, what else was she making...focus Harald*
He thinks of the brave warrior that stood to his left on the Day of Broken Bones.
He thinks of the shy farmer that he's watched care for the field behind him.
He thinks of the excellent digger that cleared the land around the main settlement by his side.
He gives a whispered prayer of thanks to Freyja that they are all the same person.
He thought of how she looked hiding behind her hair when he asked for a share of her Uncle's Flax seed, asking in payment only protection from the jungle.
He could think of no way to adequetely do that without turning her home into as good of a small scale imitation of a hillfort as he could with the time he had.
So, while searching for her eyes between the locks of her hair, he decided to do exactly that.
He thinks of the days he slowly and carefully worked earth underneath that sad little cabin, raising it bit by bit.
He thinks of ripping through the earth with Pick and Adze, Agmundr's Hands wielding the rest of everyone's tools while Gefjoza's Plows cut deep into the ground.
He think of the plans he had for a full scale version of the light works before him, and thought of the wild hills he would make it on.
He thinks of the house he had promised to build on those hills, and wonders if she understood what he meant.
He thinks of the other warrior, farmer, and digger he stood next to. Of the way the ground grew warm and damp when the blood fell on it. Of the way it felt early the next morning, when Harald returned to bring his comrade's spilled heartsblood back to his Clan's land.
He felt that same soil now, at the foundation of what they had constructed.
He thinks of when he had asked his Father why we pray when the gods cannot always listen.
"Son, we don't pray at the planting and at the harvest so that Gods hear us, we pray because they deserve our respect. Should they listen or should they be pressed by other matters, it does not change what a man must do. Take heart in knowing that even if the Gods cannot hear, when the action of your hand and the words of your voice speak together the Soil will always listen."
Done thinking, Harald dips his thinnest sickle in his side between two very specific ribs at a very specific angle, his ribs stopping it against the wooden haft where his mother had measured years before.
He stirs tiny bits of fine soil with his mind through the oil candles at his side, causing the oil to crackle loudly and, flickering lamplight shining in contrast to the blue shine of the idols. Pulling the sickle out gently he begins to speak as blood begins to seep from the wound onto the dirt.
"Freyja, Thor should my voice reach you I thank you for seeing us safely to these shores. In thanks, I offer you the blood I spill now that shall reach the ground before my supplication is finished. In respect, I offer you the first hours harvest of my first true crop in this land you have seen us to, burning so that it's light may reach you. I offer you the fat with it as well, though I must apologize for the quality of it, our options are still limited. In supplication, I offer you the sweat that I have spilled onto these earthworks this last season of labor, that you may hear my entreaty"
Harald stands, blood slowly dripping onto the ground around him.
"I will not gainsay the Norns. I will not question the hour, or the place, or why I didn't build up the parapet higher or why my throws could not down the enemy in time, but I stand before the Gods of my fathers and the land they have given us passage to in our hour of need and I proclaim that Torvarr Villagefeeder's life was worth more than a single spear.
Should I be wrong, may my offering be taken as apolgy.
Should you agree, I make no claim onto his sacrifice, but ask that it be spent to the purpose for which it is made: The protection of his Kin."
Feeling light headed, Harald rushes through his ending benedictions and wills the bleeding stopped.
*Excellent, now all that's left to do is clean up the blood and get dressed before Gefji gets home and overreacts*
Harald walked off, packing away his tools. Grateful that now that the ritual was ended he could think of all the other things he wanted. Things he was keeping away from his thoughts, so that they wouldn't contaminate the prayers he was making on someone elses behalf.
*If she's afraid someone is going to come and take away everything she loves, I'll give her a home where she can stand against anything a merciful fate would send against her. If she's worried about me falling protecting her, I'll show her how I fight on a wall I poured my sweat and blood into for months instead of one I built in a day. Protect her mister Torgarr, for just a few years more. I need time to show her that we can do this.*
I can't...I won't.......I'm not ready for... I'm just not ready.
*Another one? How is that fair, she's not even dead yet. Ah well*
Harald walked off the field, satisifed in his labors and tired.
If he realized that he had left some of his blood unatributed in his sacrifice, he might have given more concern to his thoughts as he walked off the field, but of all the things on Harald's mind, the drops of blood that fell between the ending of his prayer and stopping the bleeding entirely were not among them.
Blood dripped from the bandage onto his side onto the dirt as he walked away from Gefjoza's house, the echo of hope burning inside each drip.
The below occured the night before the party. While I'm sharing it with everyone, only Clans Jarnblod and Blomtanja are aware that this ritual was conducted. (And certain elements of the ritual may have been downplayed to certain members of Clan Blomtanja so they wouldn't worry, and even within those clans the specifics of the prayer are between Harald and the Gods)
Content warning: non-pathological self harm
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harald kneels, his kin just out of earshot, before the labor that he, Gefjoza, Agmundr, and the strange fleshcrafted creature had constructed over the season, and remembers the last few months.
Around the edges of the perfect circle of dark soil he's in lay small effigies of the Gods that Gefjoza had carved out of glow coral, between which were earthen bowls he had drawn from the base of the ditch, filled with sparking twisted wicks of roughly processed flax.
*The details are great for their size, but I guess it's ineivitable that she was being judicious with the limited material. Still I thought she was using a bigger piece than this, what else was she making...focus Harald*
He thinks of the brave warrior that stood to his left on the Day of Broken Bones.
He thinks of the shy farmer that he's watched care for the field behind him.
He thinks of the excellent digger that cleared the land around the main settlement by his side.
He gives a whispered prayer of thanks to Freyja that they are all the same person.
He thought of how she looked hiding behind her hair when he asked for a share of her Uncle's Flax seed, asking in payment only protection from the jungle.
He could think of no way to adequetely do that without turning her home into as good of a small scale imitation of a hillfort as he could with the time he had.
So, while searching for her eyes between the locks of her hair, he decided to do exactly that.
He thinks of the days he slowly and carefully worked earth underneath that sad little cabin, raising it bit by bit.
He thinks of ripping through the earth with Pick and Adze, Agmundr's Hands wielding the rest of everyone's tools while Gefjoza's Plows cut deep into the ground.
He think of the plans he had for a full scale version of the light works before him, and thought of the wild hills he would make it on.
He thinks of the house he had promised to build on those hills, and wonders if she understood what he meant.
He thinks of the other warrior, farmer, and digger he stood next to. Of the way the ground grew warm and damp when the blood fell on it. Of the way it felt early the next morning, when Harald returned to bring his comrade's spilled heartsblood back to his Clan's land.
He felt that same soil now, at the foundation of what they had constructed.
He thinks of when he had asked his Father why we pray when the gods cannot always listen.
"Son, we don't pray at the planting and at the harvest so that Gods hear us, we pray because they deserve our respect. Should they listen or should they be pressed by other matters, it does not change what a man must do. Take heart in knowing that even if the Gods cannot hear, when the action of your hand and the words of your voice speak together the Soil will always listen."
Done thinking, Harald dips his thinnest sickle in his side between two very specific ribs at a very specific angle, his ribs stopping it against the wooden haft where his mother had measured years before.
He stirs tiny bits of fine soil with his mind through the oil candles at his side, causing the oil to crackle loudly and, flickering lamplight shining in contrast to the blue shine of the idols. Pulling the sickle out gently he begins to speak as blood begins to seep from the wound onto the dirt.
"Freyja, Thor should my voice reach you I thank you for seeing us safely to these shores. In thanks, I offer you the blood I spill now that shall reach the ground before my supplication is finished. In respect, I offer you the first hours harvest of my first true crop in this land you have seen us to, burning so that it's light may reach you. I offer you the fat with it as well, though I must apologize for the quality of it, our options are still limited. In supplication, I offer you the sweat that I have spilled onto these earthworks this last season of labor, that you may hear my entreaty"
Harald stands, blood slowly dripping onto the ground around him.
"I will not gainsay the Norns. I will not question the hour, or the place, or why I didn't build up the parapet higher or why my throws could not down the enemy in time, but I stand before the Gods of my fathers and the land they have given us passage to in our hour of need and I proclaim that Torvarr Villagefeeder's life was worth more than a single spear.
Should I be wrong, may my offering be taken as apolgy.
Should you agree, I make no claim onto his sacrifice, but ask that it be spent to the purpose for which it is made: The protection of his Kin."
Feeling light headed, Harald rushes through his ending benedictions and wills the bleeding stopped.
*Excellent, now all that's left to do is clean up the blood and get dressed before Gefji gets home and overreacts*
Harald walked off, packing away his tools. Grateful that now that the ritual was ended he could think of all the other things he wanted. Things he was keeping away from his thoughts, so that they wouldn't contaminate the prayers he was making on someone elses behalf.
*If she's afraid someone is going to come and take away everything she loves, I'll give her a home where she can stand against anything a merciful fate would send against her. If she's worried about me falling protecting her, I'll show her how I fight on a wall I poured my sweat and blood into for months instead of one I built in a day. Protect her mister Torgarr, for just a few years more. I need time to show her that we can do this.*
I can't...I won't.......I'm not ready for... I'm just not ready.
*Another one? How is that fair, she's not even dead yet. Ah well*
Harald walked off the field, satisifed in his labors and tired.
If he realized that he had left some of his blood unatributed in his sacrifice, he might have given more concern to his thoughts as he walked off the field, but of all the things on Harald's mind, the drops of blood that fell between the ending of his prayer and stopping the bleeding entirely were not among them.
Blood dripped from the bandage onto his side onto the dirt as he walked away from Gefjoza's house, the echo of hope burning inside each drip.
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