The Norsemen's Saga, Part 3

"Prince Gorm, are you alright?!", yelled Hrothgar, concerned about the young regent, with Ectheow close behind and the two brothers following closely behind.

"Yes, Hrothgar, I'm fine.", replied the young prince, "And for the last time, stop calling me 'Prince'. I'm no more a prince than I am a coward or a beggar."

"Alright Pri... Gorm. And I don't mean any disrespect, but can't keeping judging yourself so harshly for what's happening." said Hrothgar.

"Hrothgar, there are people dying out there. Women and children are dying, in ways that go beyond human comprehension and here I am doing nothing. Nothing! I am of royal blood, this is my responsibility. There are people who look to me for guidance and leadership. And where are we now? We're in the middle of a God damned forest, in the middle of God damn nowhere, trying not to freeze in the God damn cold. Whether, it was my fault or not, I have responsibilities and right now I'm not exactly doing a very good job of it." replied Gorm, now on his feet, brushing the snow from his clothes and began making his way back to the camp fire.

Hrothgar, who had been through these conversations before, knew what would happen if he kept pressing the issue and dropped the subject quickly. Ectheow and the brothers were still trying to figure Gorm out, only knowing the man for a short while and were unsure as to what to think of him. Most of the time, he appeared to be cold and distant, while on occasion, he appeared have severe problems controlling his emotions, his anger more than anything else. There were moments when Gorm appeared to be so full of rage and fury that the gods of Asgard would be troubled by this mere mortal on earth. Everyone made it a strong point to avoid any arguments with Gorm whenever possible.

As the group began to return to camp; Gulbrand, whose stomach was still processing the meager portion that had been his dinner, let loose a rancid and obnoxious fart, with an echo that appeared spread throughout the forest. Ectheow, who was right behind the young man, without hesitation, whacked the young man from behind his head.

"You little bastard!" he cried has he swung, "What the hell did I do to deserve that?"

"I don't know," replied Gulbrand, rubbing his head after being hit, "Wrong place, wrong time I guess." with look that was both remorseful and yet still wanting to laugh at the situation. Hrothgar and Kristen, who were now laughing hysterically, were desperately trying to avoid getting hit by Ectheow, who was by this point thoroughly upset and annoyed.

Gorm, who was at this point standing to the side and watching the show before him, noticed a change in his mood. No longer was he feeling sad at the world and himself. No longer was he ashamed at his "failures" as a prince. Right now, to him the world was calm and peaceful again, in a manner of speaking. He even surprised himself when he started to lightly chuckle, something he hadn't done in a long time.

He couldn't even think of the last time he had laughed. It was a good feeling, a fine feeling, something he had thought he had all but forgotten since the dark days of the previous years. This shock was felt by the rest of the party, who stopped immediately when they heard him. At first they thought that he was chocking or in some kind of trouble. Gulbrand thought that the young regent had been possessed by some kind of demon. The rest just stared at Gorm, with anxiety and great pause.

Gorm didn't mind, he just continued to walk back to the camp. When he reached for one of the logs that were lying by the fire, he sat down upon it to make himself comfortable. The rest of the group, who were shortly behind him, took their place alongside the fire. No one talked, remaining silent; there wasn't much to talk about anyway.

The men just sat where they were, looking at the fire. Each one of them was thinking about home, about loved ones, about the years long ago that were now seen as leisure and carefree. Long before the arrival of the Saxons, the trials and tribulations that came with them and the current situation that they were all now in.

Gorm, whose mind and soul was focused on the fire in front of him, looked up and saw Hrothgar in front of him, also staring into the flames. What is he thinking, Gorm wondered, is he thinking of home, of his wife and child, where they are now, were they were alright? Gorm found it hard to imagine at how Hrothgar could stay so optimistic and hopeful in even the worst of circumstances. And he had been through some awful times himself.

Gorm's mind began to return to when he had first met Hrothgar; Gorm had just escaped from Aeglaeca's castle and had been on the run for awhile now. He was starving, cold and on the verge of complete madness. Gorm, remembered the wet green leaves on the trees, freshly exposed by the dewy spring air. He could smell the scent of the moist soil beneath his callused feet. The memories felt like a mad nightmare, he knew it was real, but everything seemed to be almost a fantasy in his mind.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Hrothgar, was walking along the side of the road when he found the prince's body lying on the side, he looked to see if the man was still alive or not. He could barely hear the man's voice, a mere whisper of a woman's name. Hrothgar, lifted the boy up on his shoulders. Gorm who had no energy left in him, and was at the complete and sole mercy of this stranger.

Gorm could still remember the walk as they approached a nearby town. The walk seemed to last for ages, each step felt as if Hrothgar was lifting a heavy weight on his feet, taking all the energy and strength in him to keep moving, to keep going. The trees looked as if they were closing in on him. As if they were going to squeeze the life from him and bring his life to a miserable end.

But when the two finally reached the village, they both collapsed from sheer exhaustion. Gorm almost unable to recognize the world around him, and still couldn't fully remember the first few moments after reaching the town. All he could remember was coming in and out of consciousness for who knows how long. The world was in a complete state of disarray, unable to pull itself together. Gorm thought that it was destroying itself from the inside out.

When he finally recovered, he found Hrothgar, preparing a small meal. The fire was roaring under what appeared to be rabbit, or some small creature from the forest. The smell of the roasting meat over the flames was heavenly to Gorm. It had been the first thing of real food he had seen in years. The smell was so potent that he almost forgot the man who cooking the meal. He suddenly remembered about Hrothgar, when he turned to Gorm and said, "Well it's about up you finally got up. I was about ready to wake you up myself."

"Where am I?" Gorm asked, his voice straining from trying to lift his body upright.

"A little hamlet not too far from the castle. Although I'd say we're in Cimbri territory, from the smell of things." replied Hrothgar, taking a bite out of the meat, "They always seemed to have an odd odor about them. I think they wash in mud holes, but that's just me."

Gorm, a little unnerved by that statement, and by Hrothgar's composure, cautiously asked, "Who are you exactly?"

"Hmm, oh, Hrothgar the name. I'm a hunter by trade, although I did enough a bit of farming once in a while." answered Hrothgar, trying to be friendly.

"What happened, don't you like to farm anymore?" asked Gorm, intrigued at the man before him.

Hrothgar took a deep breath, looked at the fire before him, he then turned to Gorm, and then said, "It reminded me too much of my family."

Gorm, still mourning for his own family, could only imagine what horrors had been unleashed on Hrothgar. "Do...do you mind if I ask what happened?" asked Gorm, who was concerned with opening painful wounds to his friend.

"Well, my family and I lived near the edge of the western cliffs with the Scyldings, my people. I was out hunting for food for my wife and son, while they tended to the other house activities. I usually was gone for several days, you know, making sure that we had more than enough food for what we needed. Well, after four, no wait sorry, five days of hunting, I come back to my home, and found that it was ransacked by Saxon raiders."

"When I entered the house, I found my son was hacked to pieces, and my wife, was rapped and beaten, and huddling in a corner of our house, silently crying to herself as she looked at what remained of our son." Hrothgar paused, deeply inhaled through his nose, licked his teeth under his upper lip, smacked his lips, and continued, "Three days later, when I was outside preparing our son's funeral pyre, I found her standing at the edge of the cliff; calm, peaceful, as if in a state of pure tranquility. And when I asked if she was alright, she looked at me, smiled and said 'Everything's fine.' She then turned around, and jumped of the cliffs. When I reached the cliffs edge, I couldn't even find her body. I tried to carry on for a while, but that place just reminded me of them. So I burned the house, my son's remains, everything we had made for ourselves. It just didn't feel like home anymore. And since then I've been on the road, living off the land, or whatever it feels like giving me."

Gorm, feeling guilty for bringing out such a tragic story, was about to apologize, when Hrothgar said, "Don't worry about, one mustn't dwell on the past or their past will consume them and everything they care for." Hrothgar then turned to Gorm, intrigued and curious at his newfound company, and asked, "Now the question is, 'What is the prince of these lands doing here covered in sot and leaves? Last time I heard, you were living comfortably with Lord Aeglaeca." Gorm eyes seemed to have shot out of their sockets, not only did Hrothgar know who Gorm was, but the Saxons were lying about the fate of his family. But first his real, problem was if Hrothgar was going to turn him in. His forehead seemed to be flowing with sweat, his breath quickening as each moment pasted. What would he do, would he return to the Saxon dungeons, would his end in such a dismal place, was this the end of his line on this earth?

"Oh, get that look off your face!" said Hrothgar, almost annoyed at the young regent's reaction. "I'm not going to anything to you. So calm down, but seriously from what the Saxons have telling us. Your family has been living well from the recent...acquisition of these lands."

"Saxons lie worse than they smell.", replied Gorm, "They imprisoned my family from the very beginning, tortured my father until he died, Aeglaeca himself beat my brother to death, and forced my mother and sister to forced labor until they both perished. I was kept in the dungeons and tortured daily until I was able to escape. I haven't eaten anything but leaves and twigs for days. Which is why I'm little less than ample in my appearance right now. But my question is how did you know who I am?", asked a puzzled Gorm.

"The ring on your finger, it has your family crest on it. That's basically what gave you away since you don't look or smell like a prince.", answered Hrothgar, who was cringing and waving his hand back and forth, trying to get the regent's aroma away from his nostrils.

Gorm, looking down at his hand, relieved that his families ring was still on his finger, it was given to him by Arnora on the night he escaped. He paused for a moment, saw a piece of string lying on the floor, he picked it up, removed the ring and place the string around his neck with the ring hanging down his neck. "That should fix that problem" said Gorm, looking back towards Hrothgar.