Viking, me.

Chapter 3 - not on the rolling hills of ireland anymore.

Weeks had past since these men had invaded my home, and the long boat crashed against the rough waters.
I rubbed my eyes, the sea foam spraying up and the waves crashed over the sides of the boat.

I sighed as the heavens opened to release the rain from the heavy storm laden clouds. I had been soaked to the bone by the waves but now the rain bucketed down my hair stuck to the creases of my neck and my cotton dress was becoming increasingly more see through. I changed a glance at my capturer through the splashing waves. He was panting and his hair was plastered down his back and the water dropped down his face. He caught me looking at him and stopped. My teeth were chattering and I shivered. He had, like the many others a large coat with fur lining the inside.

He stopped rowing and shrugged off this cloak and laid it around my shoulders, he adjusted it at my neck. I looked up in to his eyes, their pericing colour seemed as sad and dark as the blue sea. The warmth form his own body still radiated in the fur cloak. It warmed my chilled bones a little.
"Thank you" I whispered with a tiny smile on my lips.

He looked at him is eyes lingering on my lips. His response was as unexpected at his gesture.
"Your welcome" he hesitated a little, his voice turning lower "call me Sven" and he exhaled gruffly. I nodded with out any words being spoken he picked up his oar again and continued rowing.
The men who had enslaved monks hadn't given them any sort of shelter from the rain and so the monks were shivering with the cold and I wasn't sure if they'd make it.

Sven, my capturer had been kept dry under the cloak and his red tunic top was suddenly sopping wet with the first wave that hit him. He had a strong build that showed as his top clung to him. All these men were bulky and fierce looking. Cloaked in dark animal fur and roaring in defiance against the waves, they were a picture of hell.

The next two days past much the same thrashing waves and relentless rain until we could see land ahead. The day passed slowly as had the last few weeks. But the grey sky cleared and let the dark sky sprinkled with night lights, appear. We reached the harbour that seemed to float on the water.
As we docked the man who had commanded the boat our entire journey strode off the boat and onto the dock. I stood up and waited for Sven, if I wandered off I'm sure he'd do something and I definitely don't what to think about it.

As men cleared off the boat to greet the people waiting for them some came and clapped the man I was still bound to, on the back. They ushered words of congratulations as far as I could guess. Their language was strange to say the least. But listening to their tones of voice you can guess what their saying.

I watched the monks get dragged off the boat and down into the village. Other men from the boat embraced their wives, dropping their loot fist. Sven grabbed my bound hands in one of his and pushed me back a little so to give him space. He knelt to get a good grip of the large wooden box we had been sitting on the last few weeks. He hoisted it up over my head and let it rest on his shoulder.

"Let's go" he said looking over my head to his home. I knew in my heart that if I stepped off the boat I'd never be going home. I looked out to sea and longed for home. The shock of what happened had warn off as we sailed, but I still couldn't grasp the fact that I'm being taken to a place where I know nothing, not its language or daily life nothing.
There is nobody waiting for me back in Ireland since the invasion. I don't know if I'll fit in here. I look around and I realise that even the way they dress is different.

Sven and I walked down the space in between the aisle of wooden boxes left on the boat. We got to the edge where we could climb over the side of the boat. The boat swayed a little on the easy current of the harbour water. Stumbling forward over my own footing, loosing my balance I grabbed into the first thing I could, and that would have been Sven.
Placing my feet firmly on the ground I looked up. He had been looking over his shoulder when I looked up, his eyes widened with shocked anger.