A Northman Captain (Slight Spoiler in MS Alert)

[StephenUmpf]

The old captain knew better. The fates had cut his thread because of it. It was that simple.

Now, he reached for his axe and held tightly onto its hilt. He would enter the next world with his axe in his hand. And because he held his axe, he would be welcomed into the great feasting hall with his fallen comrades and with those who he fought against.

The captain was a Northman and knew his trade well both at the helm and with the axe. The peace in the Isles had turned his trade into a dull life of shuttling crates back and forth from Corwell to the Iron Keep. He had the blessing of a good ship, a skiff, light in the water and needing little crew. And for what is was worth, his wife was happy. He was home more nights in a year than he had been in the lifetime before, and she welcomed him into a warm bed.

His eyes had dulled with age and a warm bed. Yet, somewhere in him, the bloodlust still stirred. This tie to his past, this tie to the work of the axe, this tie to the life of a raider, this would be his demise. He knew it; he had always known it and it approached him on the docks of Corwell in the worn faces of three warriors.

The three warriors approached with the tools of their trade hung about them: spears, swords, axes, shields. The weapons were worn and in good repair; these men were not new to their trade. Their eyes were steadfast. Their request simple. Take them to the Iron Keep, wait, return, with no questions and no inspection of cargo. As he listened, he could sense their greed, their raw desire, and their want of blood. He should have refused them but something in their eyes got into his soul. It stirred something within him. Before he could settle himself, he heard his own words in his ears “Of course lads, get on board, there will be a price to pay.”

With his fate cast with them, in the morning light, they sailed to the Iron Keep. It was a day’s trip and an easy trip. In the past few weeks, he had taken many passengers to the keep for the wedding of the great lord’s son. However, these men were different. They did not share in the joy of the festivities. As they approached the shore that evening, they did not make a toast like most do at the sight of the keep. Instead, they checked their gear and the edges of their blades.

As the warriors disembarked, the captain considered sailing off. Making his run south early. Not waiting for their return, changing the course that had he set on in the morning, but instead he waited.

The lights of the Keep stayed bright as the feast continued late into the night. Finally, as the morning sun broke, the warriors returned in a rush. It was obvious they had committed some foul deed. A scream could be heard in the background and the rustle of men to arms. The captain thought if there ever was a time to change course it was now, just hold tight, don’t make way and let the fools suffer. But again, before his mind could force a change, he was issuing orders to his crew to get underway.

As they sailed south, a commotion brewed among the warriors. They shared quick looks and quiet talk. The captain became nervous. He began to realize the trouble he had gotten into. However, he could see the port in the distance. He was close now. Perhaps, it would end well. He could reach port and be rid of these vermin and return to his wife’s warm bed. Perhaps.

It was at that moment, when hope began to flicker, that the warriors approached with cold eyes and expression less faces. The Captain reached for his axe but it was too late. One of the warriors, a Northman, sword struck hard and deep. He drew back his blade, but for a moment he held it high… waiting for the Captain to take hold of his axe. At least, the Captain thought, the fates had chosen a Northman to cut his life thread. A moment later, with his hand firmly on the hilt of his axe, it was over.

Where the ship is now and what the warriors had done, the captain no longer cares. He drinks with his fallen comrades, tells stories of long forgotten battles, and sleeps with fair maidens. At least, until his wife joins him.