A trill in the tree tops from birds joyful for the warm summer day. Voices quieted and only a soft murmur of insects singing on the gentle breeze fueled the ambiance of such a gathering. Hvitserk stood proud with shoulders back, though a shift in gaze from the ordain impatient for his que. Then hazel eyes back to Margarethe not but an arm length away from him at the minimal pagan altar. Adorn in nothing but a sculpted stone bowl set on the flat surface. Filled halfway with murky crimson watered down blood.
Blood from a freshly slaughtered hog they would eat later in the day. And water from the clean spring in which the Hvitserk's own mother was buried not thirty feet from up the mountain behind Kattegat. Aslaug's second oldest the motionless one as the pagan confer performed the hand binding ritual. Although his mind racing a thousand miles a minute. Margrethe the contrary of the pair. She wrung her hands together, clearly nervous as the man slowly proceeded with the ceremony. Both young adults a bundle of nerves and excitement as the last bits were falling into place.
"And who gives this woman away to her new husband?" the weathered old viking preacher asked out to the crowd.
Discussed earlier it was Lagertha to step forth from the procession of women located behind Margrethe, "I do." For as long as she live a slave and taken from her home, Margrethe had not the father or mother to fill in the ceremony. Regardless having the Queen of Kattegat offer the role was an easy choice. Cracking a shy smile Margrethe looked at Lagertha with a silent thank you before turning sparkling blue eyes on her to be husband.
On que the man initiating the ceremony took a careful touch to pinch both silver metal bands between his thumb and forefinger. Without hesitation he dunk the metals up past halfway in the blood mixture. Glistening metal partially tainted with the swine blood. Wordless he laid the smaller of the bloodied bands in Hvitserk's open palm. With the other larger band in Margrethe's opened hand. Not a sound, the drip of extra blood back into the stone bowl could be heard amongst the wedding patrons. Shaky but firm in conviction Margrethe slide the ring in her possession over Hvitserk's larger finger. The third son of Ragnar mirror her actions with a ring costumed to the females finger to match.
A crow cawed in the distance, "And so I name, man and wife." Hardly words out the ordain's mouth and Hvitserk had his lips upon Margrethe's in half a heart beat, "May the gods bless you, and give you children, and may they keep the wolf from the door!"
Cheers erupted as both sets of the newlyweds hands came up to cup one another's face. Margrethe as adamant to kiss her just declared husband as Hvitserk was to show off his wife in rightfulness. Banging and chimes from a small rustic orchestra grateful to play at the late Queen Aslaug's child's wedding. Gleeful noises from the crowd as the attending were pumped to see a new chapter unfold before them. Ubbe, Sigurd and Ivar hooted like a cluster of rabid heathens for their brother's achievement. No matter the scenario that incited this spurred wedding, all three brother's couldn't be but happy for Hvitserk's fortune with the woman all of them knew he fawned about marrying their entire childhood and well into their young adult lives.
Pitching a look over at the line of women who'd stood on the bride's side of the alter, Ubbe broke a smile on his bearded lips when his eyes laid on Eleri. Brimming bright with pure pleasure for the ceremony unfolding piece by piece before her. It was clear to the viking that the varagain probably had never in her twenty-three years of life seen a wedding prior to this one. Rosy cheeks and huge eyes taking it all in as she hooted and hollered with the rest of the circle hailing the hand binding ritual between lovers.
"And now, the bridal race!" throwing up his arms the old ordain announced the next part of the activities to set the regime for the rest of the gathering. Ubbe shying a tad away when Eleri's attention fluttered onto him. Across the small gathering he could see her giggling at the man's gawking in her direction. Bjorn's wife, Torvi, fueling the snickers when she covered her grinning mouth and whispered something in Eleri's ear. Clearly about the staring viking. Both women booming with jittery laughter but Eleri nudging the shieldmaiden's arm with a discernible eye roll. Ubbe direly embarrassed to know what was said to her.
"Ubbe-! Are you coming?!" Hvitserk shouted loudly with cupped hands towards his older sibling. He and Sigurd already trailing down the small knoll to where the race was to start and end. With a jolt to the present the eldest brother shook his head and tried to refocus on the two he was being called to, "Hurry! You'll have to serve by default slow poke!"
A grin and snigger from Sigurd and Hvitserk when Ubbe sneered coyly at them across the way. Tearing away from where the women and other guests were gathering near the start of the race, Ubbe reluctant to perform such a ritual before the varagain front and center to watch. Conversely he was still fueled with a little spit fire towards Sigurd after the two oldest brother's always thought it was to be just them playing a game of chase as it was thought to be. Sigurd's need to butt in something Ubbe wasn't going to dispute if Hvitserk was happy to indulge it.
Established at the imaginary line marked by the ordain and the old beldam he had helping throughout the ceremony, the trio of brothers lined up. Ubbe and Sigurd on either side of Hvitserk. The married man front and center between them both, "You know the rules brothers, looser serves the feast." A frolicsome remark from the middle brother to both of the siblings on his sides. Sigurd rolled his eyes and Ubbe snorted at Hvitserk's cockiness.
"You sound like you've already won brother," Ubbe played, all of them settling into a starting position.
"And it is my wedding," Hvitserk winked at his older brother to his left.
In order the trio knelt down ready for a sprinting start. Muscles tense as the ordain cleared his throat. Onlookers jubilant and calling for Hvitserk's win. As custom was to hope the groom got to claim another win aside from marrying the bubbling bride. Ubbe and Sigurd both turned their heads to see Eleri beaming a giant smile at all three of them. Brought right to an abrupt start as the officiate cried out, "GO!"
Prompted right then and there Ubbe and Sigurd slower than the laser focus Hvitserk held. The viking gone two steps before his brothers stepped off in unison. Yelling and shouting from the entire group watching faded behind them. Even Eleri could be heard brashly cheering on the groom, "Go Hvitserk! Go!"
A short stint used with all their might. Each brother regardless of reason pushed their legs to carry them as fast as they could. Sigurd and Ubbe catching up to Hvitserk as the dash brought the trio through a stand of pine trees. Crunching dried needles under hardened leather soles of each pair of feet hammering the dried summer ground. Fleetingly Ubbe gained a foothold on Sigurd's minuscule lead. Grinning like a fool as he looked over at Hvitserk. Pumping his legs to take him as fast as they could. Whisking wind passing their ears the labored breathing and muffled screams of cheering some way back was drowned out by the thudding of each vikings heart in their chests trying to send enough blood circulating through the sprinting bodies of the three of them.
Straining all three of them turned the corner of a marked broad tree trunk at the same time. Half way down. Hvitserk holding firm on his lead of the other two. It was when the clearing back to where they started came into a quickly growing sight. All but taken by surprise when Ubbe assumed his second place was locked in. Sigurd at the staggering last moment slithered between Ubbe and Hvitserk's first and second place lead just as they jolted past the finish line. Sealing his second place and Ubbe's third.
"Hvitserk!" All cried for the clear winner when the groom trotted to meager stop. Heaving in long needed breathes with lungs on fire Hvitserk leaned down to catch his breath while all party goers broke past their place of waiting and joined the vikings.
"Ah- Hah! Hah looks-- Looks like I -aha- I win!" out of breath didn't stop him from announcing his victory. Everyone who'd waited for the race to end now engulfed the three brothers. Ivar heaving himself front and center with Floki handing off a stein of mead to Hvitserk. Who threw it back like it was water. Parched and quelling his burning legs. Ubbe and Sigurd sucking in deep breathes one right after another. Both losers to their brother, but the sparing look Sigurd and everyone else gave Ubbe indicated that it was the eldest who did indeed lose the bridal race.
Ubbe only sore about the look of superiority Sigurd wore on his face, it was all for nothing as Eleri came carting two full mugs. Laughing at the winded vikings she handed a frothy drink to each. Swallowed up in the festivities to even worry about who won or lost. She didn't care only grabbing them both and smooching their musky sweat drippings cheeks with a grin, "My losers!"
Everyone erupted in laughter and for a moment Ubbe straightened up and looked out at the family, friends and loved ones surrounding. With drained mug in hand he cracked a foolish smile on his face and slung the unoccupied hand over Eleri's shoulder. Hefting up the mug Ubbe called out to all, "To Hvitserk and Margrethe! To the Lothbrok name!"
Dropping the spite for even that second Sigurd turned to his now married older brother. With everyone he raised the now empty mead mug Eleri had brought him and hailed his brother for his truly grand achievement. A frenzy as everyone shouted out the Lothbrok name all at once. Sigurd taken by surprise when an excited Eleri yanked the viking in and laid a big kiss on his sweat damp forehead. Her face a blossom of a smile as she looked in ecstasy at him, at Ubbe, at the entire party. All worry for the moment shedding from anyone attending the party. There was no singular person. Everyone in their right mind swamped the newlyweds. Mugs and horns being swapped. Drinks abundant and soon to be food filling everyone's belly. Merriment taking each and everyone away for as long as the sun was high in the sky.
Sunfall erased the crisp natural light the sun naturally gave. Lack of natural light did not stop the festivities from continuing well into dusk. Replaced with torches and lanterns ignited in full. Warm lashing yellow and orange toned lights lit up the feast and drinking well into the twilight hours. Not all stayed, some lasted to the succulently spit roasted pig. Others giving their final blessing to the newlyweds shortly after the delicious food. Ubbe a gracious server as well as a good sport for losing the bridal race. Seeing his brother so happy and also his new sister-in-law was prize enough for the summer night. Eleri's dive into such an indigenous celebration just as amusing to watch as she was swallowed whole by the festivities without hesitation. Stuffing her face with food, helping give the bride and groom the best banter and partaking in anything she could, the foreigner immersed herself in the pagan traditions for the time being. One of their own as loudness teetered into calm settling night and only close friends and family remained.
Taking advantage of Ubbe's position of server, Sigurd sat beside Eleri in front of the warm pit fire. Hvitserk and Margrethe tucked in front of them continuing to chat it up with the Queen who lingered, her son and his family, Floki and Helga with Ivar seated beside them. Astrid hovering above Lagertha like one of the Queen's ominous owls would. Some others picking up their belongings and giving their best wishes one last time to the man and woman of the day.
Once Hvitserk drained his horn of mead Ubbe made to get his brother another, for his job as well as wishing to spoil his little brother. When Sigurd without question took his own mead and doused the ground with the mostly full container, "Me too." He announced shoving his now empty mug up to Ubbe. A small scowl from Ubbe but he wasn't about to dispute it when Eleri cut him off.
"Here," Eleri produced her mug, still full save for a few sips of the froth off the top, "Sigurd leave your brother be, mines filled."
"You've barely touched your drink varagain," interjecting Ivar stole Eleri's attention when he prattled to her, "What's wrong, weakness finally setting in?"
Snapping a hastily drawn glare in the youngest vikings direction, Eleri shook her head and scoffed as she handed off her drink to Sigurd, "Shut your mouth, your taste buds are so bland you can't taste the poor head in this cat piss mead." Lip twitching Eleri turned her nose up at the drink Sigurd took a little sluggish from her and begrudgingly slurped down. Part to Ubbe's thankfulness as he dotted off to refill Hvitserk's only, "Whoever drew this barrel must have sloshed it around, the ferment is disgusting."
"I have severed more barrels of mead than you've been alive child," Floki bolstered his fine attuned ability to handling his drinks. Well aware to never disturb the mushy ferment at the bottom of most kegs. This one he cracked open for Hvitserk no different than any other, "You're sense of smell must be snuffed, tastes like ale to me." Floki disagreed as he drained his mug.
Everyone else not jumping down Eleri's distaste at the mead but everyone else around the pit had done their share in drinking up the nectar of the evening. Only the varagain's protests about the taste.
"Hah-" Ivar snorted as he raised his horn to his lips, "It's not stole, she doesn't like it."
A collective groan from Ivar's normal saltiness. With a small string being plucked on the nearby lute being plucked to a soft melody, most of the band who'd played for the day had returned home. Left was a duo of men who reserved themselves to enjoying the ambiance of the summer night. Sat off by themselves they played unobtrusively to their own melodies while the remaining family and friends enjoyed their music.
Before Ubbe returned with a full mug, Hvitserk rose and stood before his new wife. Wordless he offered her and hand. Smiling Margrethe took his calloused hand with her own pale narrow one. The couple stepped out of the direct wash of fire light and wrapped one another up in a slow rocking dance to the tunes being sung out to the night.
The only way Sigurd knew how to give to his brother was to at least add to the mood. Taking up his own ute, the young Lothbrok recognised the chords being played by the other musicians. One tune up, another tweak and soon Sigurd had his ute matching the melody of the ongoing song. He strummed slowly in time with his older brother's dance with his wife. A soft simper spreading on the blond vikings lips as he merrily took the time to play for his brother's special day.
Eleri watched and listened. Sigurd play for his brother. Hvitserk and Margrethe take their time. Astrid sinking in beside Lagertha once more. A slip of her hand in the Queen's as they sat and enjoyed it. Torvi looking over at Bjorn and the man and woman sparing a sentimental kiss before she rested her head on her husband's shoulder. And Helga and Floki, even with Ivar between them, smiled like lovestruck fools at each other as the quiet of night settled the mood. All occupied save for Eleri. She watching like an outsider. Until she realized Ubbe was also not part of this.
Rising from her seat beside Sigurd, the viking did not halt his strumming. Only glancing up at the woman who spared him a brief brushing of her fingers through his bangs before he returned his dark blue eyes to his lanky sallow fingers matching the chords on his ute. Eleri turned and stepped out of the circle close knit amidst the fire. Looking back towards the tables in which the feast had taken place earlier, her eyes traced the silhouette of the tall viking hanging around the table longer than it took to just fill a dram of mead.
Light footsteps as Eleri left the glow of the fire pit for the singular illumination of the torches kept lit for the small party to see in the dimming light. Wordless the varagain stood behind the man without announcing her presence right away.
"...let's hope he's better at fighting than he be at drawing a single drop of mead in a timely manner," though Eleri's tone stoic, her words still playful and sarcastic. She remain as the taller viking shifted around and stood toe to toe with the woman. Ubbe looked slightly down so their eyes were met, Eleri reaching up and brushing an unkempt curl from his sideburns down as to match his beard.
"Let's hope she fights as well as she talks," Ubbe, with a half cocked smile, let out his own remark to the woman. The music from the fire pit a hushed version as it slinked through the thick darkness over to the two standing away. All cattiness aside, Ubbe stepped close to her and pressed his forehead to her own. Warm from the bath of fire light. His a tad cooler from standing away from it. Ubbe's hands came up to find Eleri's but she was already seeking his out when he did. They laced their fingers with each other's hands and pressed foreheads together, "...I fear every day I will lose you, isn't that something? Come here to kill my father, and now, I fret more over your absence than I ever did his."
"Tsk," a snort of a laugh passed Eleri's barely opened lips. Her eyes sealed shut instead and she shook her head lightly even against the vikings, "You vikings, ridiculous."
"I'd say to your kind, but I'm still not sure what you're kind is," Ubbe mumbled under his breath as their hands broke away only to be replaced around one another's waist. Afar from the main group, it didn't stop them from swaying to and fro in gentle unison with the singing string instruments going on in the background.
"You are not the only one Ragnarsson," Eleri inhaled slowly as she took agreement with the man. The very lack of knowledge to her ownself something of a trouble to the grown woman.
Ubbe leaned his head back from hers so to see the faint details of Eleri's face in the waning light, "And here I was, thought we were past the Ragnarsson nicknames."
"You'll always be Ragnarssons to me viking," Eleri trying to be caustic but it failed as a grin tugged on her full cherise lips. A glow behind her slate eyes from the assorted flames around them enticing the viking to bring his face to hers.
"And you will always be myfanwy, varagain," Ubbe offered with just as playful useage. Not even half way through a decent eyeroll and Ubbe pressed his fuzzy lips against her soft ones. Eleri not one to deny it now in front of or in the seclusion of the night. She pressed back into the kiss until it dissipated slowly and naturally. Morphing back to the gentle pressing of their foreheads together as they rocked slowly back and forth together. Engulfed and enjoying the solitude as a whole. Escaping the spoken word for a solace they hadn't had in a long while. Hectic as it all ways and now with a war on the verge, it was this reassurance both man and woman needed.
"...I'm not leaving," Eleri vocalized softly between them. More than just her up and leaving on the vikings mind.
Pensive to indulge his darker thoughts, now within earshot of only her Ubbe knew his fears would come out gracefully or worse. So he gave in, "...Sigurd, he-"
"Ubbe," Eleri interrupted before the man continued, "Ubbe listen to me." She up turned her face as he did the same. Looking at one another searching their eyes for certainty, "I'm sorry....for what happened. But....to say I hate him...I just...It would be like saying that about Hvitserk." Eleri lowered her eyes and shook her head, "...I love you. I love your brothers. I....I don't know how to and I want to keep both of you, all of you, safe. This-" Eleri halted and her breast swelled with a deep but shaky breath. Raising her chin so she was at level with the viking there was fear in her eyes as well as worry and determination, "This is my family. You are my family. I can't chose I just-"
"Eleri," Ubbe's turn to stop her rambles before they turned into tears. There was a distinct stop when the ute that played in the background stopped and only the two lutes back on the knoll sung to the night. Sigurd had stopped playing. Sigurd had gone silent. Ubbe heard it before Eleri. The oldest son kissed the woman tenderly, lovingly and longingly on the lips when she'd stopped to look at him.
This he knew, Ubbe could never choose between his brothers. While he knew deep down this woman could probably slit his youngest brother's throat and feel no remorse, Ubbe understood that his subtle jealous of Sigurd was for nothing. He was lost and alone, Sigurd needed Eleri. As he did. As Hvitserk did. Even Ivar. Ubbe could not be the one to break up this brotherhood. Or this family.
The kiss left a tingle on their lips and Ubbe looked at Eleri and then over to Sigurd who hung quietly alone even amongst friends and family. A tiny nod but a nod nonetheless, in his direction. Eleri silently thankful for Ubbe's understanding. She kissed him but a flutter on the lips and squeezed his forearm.
Breaking from him and returning to the group, Ubbe stayed and retrieved the mug for his brother as well as another. Coming back to the fire pit, Ubbe set the stein down by Hvitserk's seat and proceeded to settle next to his brother. Casting a look over at the other side of the fire's flames, Ubbe inhaled the acrid smoke and cool summer air. Eleri had engaged Sigurd to play folly in one dance. Not even Ivar sure who to twist seeing his brother half ass dance, only enjoying the sight and the company.
Eleri ushered Sigurd closer and he didn't stop to put his head on her shoulder and curl needy arms around her abdomen. Ubbe watched. And knew, he needed something from the foreign woman just as he did. To take something away from his brother just wasn't in him. And so Ubbe sat back and watched Eleri shift slowly in time to the dying lutes in the distance. Sigurd's face hidden in her shoulder and the woman hugging the tall lanky man in reassurance of the ending day and what was to come. Hvitserk laying a hand on his oldest brother's shoulder as he looked down and smiled. Wordless he seated up beside Ubbe and that was all to be sung on the summer nights wind. Music a merry. Family close. Together as a family for the first time since Ragnar had left and split up both families. Stitched together, missing a few pieces and perhaps not practical, a sweet ending to a day as the night cover provided the shroud to not yet think about what was to come in the following days.