[To be titled viking story]

EIGHTEEN

I smiled as I looked over everything. When I was young I never had the strength, but I always watched him. I even took notes for him when his hands were full. 

That sparked a memory. 

I flipped through the journal. I used to doodle in the book when he wasn't looking. 

I found the page. It was near the end, easy for me to find. 

I traced the drawing with my finger. It was a rough drawing of my father. 

I had been talented at drawing the likeness of people. 

"That's him," I said fondly. I missed him. Every day I missed him, but seeing his face made my chest ache.  

I hadn't noticed the tear until it fell and wet the page. I smeared the wetness away and rubbed under my eyes. 

"Sorry." I took a deep breath and smiled. "I almost forgot what he looked like."

Leif gave me an empathetic smile. 

"What should, I show you to convince you?" I flipped through a few pages. 

"Well," the blacksmith grunted, reaching to turn a few pages. "There are a few things that I don't understand."

Needless to say, I gave him two of my father's secrets. I wouldn't have ever given him all of them. They were my family's legacy and I wouldn't just give them away. That made no sense. 

All I needed to do was prove who I was, to Leif's satisfaction, then I left with the journal. I was the only one who knew my father's writing and methods anyway. 

If I ended up with a companion who was interested, I could tell that man. If there was a son that I adopted for any reason, I would give him the journal. I would teach him what my father taught me. It would stay in my family. 

When we returned to the hall, Leif led me towards Yori and Svarti. 

"She did it," Leif stated to Yori, who smiled and nudged him in return. 

"I told you she'd be just fine," Yori jabbed. 

Svarti huffed. "I could've told you who she was. I was there when we took her." I could tell the joking tone in Svarti's voice, but hither other two didn't. 

"Yori," I warned when I saw his arm twitch. He was barely stopped from knocking out Svarti. 

Yori was obviously still not as moved on as I was. It took a long time to cope with what had happened. Svarti had helped me. He made me feel not so horrible about what had happened. I would never be over the events of that day, but they didn't haunt me anymore. 

I didn't blame Svarti any more than I blamed Yori for raiding other villages. It was the nature of our lives. 

I had to stand between Yori and Svarti for the rest of the gathering.