April Novel Essential Information

Novel Title: Taken

Time Setting: 1945

Genre: Historical Thriller

Minimum Word Goal: 120,000

Timespan: September–December

Location: Los Angeles, California

Main Character: Mitchell Becker

Background Information:

Born the third-youngest of nine children in a Texan farm family, Mitchell's childhood was difficult, as the land his father farmed — like much land during the Great Depression — wasn't able to produce much.

Like his siblings, Mitchell worked hard from an early age to help, only going to school when he could be spared. When he was twelve he left school for good to get a job at a different farm to help bring money in until his father finally decided to give up farming two years later.

Instead, his father decided to seek work in the oilfield business, and as soon as he could, Mitchell joined him, as there was more money there than in any farming jobs, and he wanted to save up as much money as possible.

This money he hoped to put toward flying lessons, as — like many a child of the era — his first sighting of an airplane had transfixed him, and he had become intent to become one of the pioneering heroes of the air.

When he was seventeen he was finally able to ride in a plane for the first time; to his joy, he found flying to be all that he had ever imagined it could be — if not even more — and the desire to become a pilot became even stronger.

As soon as he turned eighteen he left his position in the oilfield and enlisted in the Army Air Force, which he figured was the best way to get flying lessons — after all, he would be getting paid to take them, instead of having to be the one paying out money.

He proved to be a natural at flying, as well as at aircraft mechanics — the latter partly aided by his experience in auto mechanics from the farm and oilfield work — in fact, he was so good at both that his superiors were tempted to keep him as an aircraft mechanic.

War broke out within a year of his enlistment and — thanks to some daring aerobatics in order to save his own life that included an emergency landing without landing gear in the middle of a town before his unit's departure to England — he was allowed to remain a pilot.

Throughout the war he proved to be an adept fighter pilot and was, for skill, valour, and value, promoted several times over the course of the conflict.

On the ground he became close friends with another pilot who hailed from Georgia, along with spending time with a wide variety of British women, in British pubs, and otherwise completely forsaking the Christian morals his parents had taught him as a boy.

When Germany surrendered he was sad to leave England for Japan, where he was disappointed to not go on a single flight before the Pacific Theatre closed with the Japanese surrender.

Shortly before the Japanese surrendered, however, his Georgian friend died mysteriously, which tempered his happiness that the end of the war had come; but he didn't have time to dwell on it, as he received word that he was to head home with a handful of other officers — and the body of his friend, which was being sent back to his friend's family at their request.

Why he's heading home so early he's not sure, but he hopes part of it can involve accompanying his friend's body to Georgia and attending the funeral, if not even getting some more information and clarity on what exactly happened to cause his friend's demise.

Troubled Waters: Day 15

Word Total: 90,098

Year to Date: 270,107

Summary of Events:

Hallbjörn took Nótt outside of the stone barn for a ride and was impressed by how well Nótt behaved — although Hallbjörn knew that Nótt still hadn't seen a storm or the ocean since the shipwreck, meaning that work remained. Bergljót watched and participated in the demonstration, which had hardly finished when news that the ræningjar had come and were exhuming the dead from the shipwreck reached them. Hallbjörn went to the coast with the man who'd brought the news and presented himself to the General overseeing the exhumation, who was disinclined to believe that Hallbjörn was who he claimed to be . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

A third rowboat pulled up to the shore. It had a pile of canvas bags in it that the men who’d rowed it ashore carried with them and helped to manoeuvre the exhumed bodies into.

One of the men who arrived in the third rowboat hesitated upon seeing Hallbjörn, and Hallbjörn recognised him as well. It was his immediately older sister Dagrún’s husband Hilmar.

“To work sailor!” the General ordered.

“But your Generalship, I know him,” Hilmar said, pointing at Hallbjörn.

“You do?” the General asked. “And who is he?”

“He is Hallbjörn Óðinnson, my wife’s younger brother,” Hilmar replied. “He was on the Ágæti. I was dreading to unearth his remains.”

“And he is no impostor?” the General asked.

“Not at all sir,” Hilmar replied. “Don’t you see it yourself? The noble jaw, the straight shoulders, the good posture? No slovenly outlying islander would have his carriage. He is a man of noble blood, and I promise you on my oath of service he is my wife’s brother, the son of Óðinn Ásgeirson.”

The General looked Hallbjörn over again and nodded. “He does look out of place here, but yet he is the only one, he says, who lived.”

“He is an honest man of Óðinnborg sir,” Hilmar said. “Why would he lie to you? He knows what grave punishments should befall a liar.”

Again the General nodded. “So it appears I shan’t have to carry you to Óðinnborg to verify your identity. You are fortunate Master Óðinnson.”

Hallbjörn gave the General a small nod. He’d forgotten Hilmar was in the Navy, and he never would’ve guessed that his brother-in-law would’ve been assigned to see what came of the Ágæti. He was grateful though.

“And none of the horses lived?” Hilmar asked Hallbjörn.

“They were kept in the hold,” Hallbjörn replied.

“They would’ve been trapped then,” Hilmar said. He shook his head sadly.

“Sailor,” the General said. “Take Master Óðinnson to the ship. Once we have exhumed the remaining bodies we will head back to Óðinnborg.”

“Shouldn’t we search to make sure they didn’t steal any valuables off of the corpses?” a soldier asked.

“I can tell you they didn’t,” Hallbjörn replied.

“And he is the son of the King’s Own Horse-Breeder, a man of influence these people wouldn’t dare cross,” the General said. “We take the bodies and we leave.”

Hallbjörn was relieved they wouldn’t press in for more, but he couldn’t deny that he was loathe to get into the rowboat and onto the ship, to be carried back to Óðinnborg. He wanted to get away from the ocean and back to Haldabænum to stay with Nótt; but if this was what it took to keep the people of Virki from being raided, then it was what he would do, fear of troubled waters or not.

Pronunciations:

Dagrún: dahgroon

Ágæti: ahg'eyetee

Ásgeirson: ahzgearsohn

Next Post: March 30.

Troubled Waters: Day 14

Word Count: 84,011

Summary of Events:

Bergljót was invited by Hallbjörn to learn how to lunge a horse so she could do it for the demonstration; it took her a few minutes to be comfortable around Nótt before they got to the lunging part. Hallbjörn informed the town Governor about his plans to hold a demonstration and left it up to the Governor to decide where the demonstration would be held. Bergljót lunged Nótt some more, feeling more comfortable — even lunging him while he cantered around her — before she watched as Hallbjörn rode Nótt a bit . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Hallbjörn’s cues with Nótt were subtle and the stallion responded to them swiftly; in fact, Bergljót had a hard time telling what Hallbjörn was doing to get Nótt to do what he was doing — and what he was doing was just basic walking, trotting, and cantering.

After a bit Hallbjörn stopped Nótt uncomfortably close to Bergljót. He removed his foot from the stirrup she could see and held out his hand to her.

“Come,” Hallbjörn said.

“But, it’s, I’m in a skirt,” Bergljót protested.

“You’re also surrounded by four stone walls with only your little brother as witness,” Hallbjörn replied. “No person apt to be scandalised is going to see what you’re doing.”

Bergljót glanced around; it was true, and she had to admit that she thought it would be fun. She reached up her hand.

Hallbjörn leaned down and closed his hand around her arm above her elbow strongly; she raised her foot into the stirrup and did her best to make sure Hallbjörn wasn’t doing all the lifting, but she was pretty sure he did end up doing a lot more of it than she’d meant to make him do anyways.

Her skirt slid up her legs a bit in order for her to sit astride Nótt’s back behind the saddle. She wrapped her arms around Hallbjörn, not really thinking about who he was because she was so worried about falling off.

After a moment for him to get his foot into the stirrup Hallbjörn had Nótt shift a little bit so that he wasn’t facing the wall so squarely.

“How fast have you gone on a horse?” Hallbjörn asked.

“I’ve ridden a bit of trotting,” Bergljót replied. “But that’s it.”

“Then let’s canter,” Hallbjörn said.

Nótt started off smoothly at the swift gait. Bergljót held on tightly. She’d seen people ride this fast, but she had to admit that being on the horse doing it was a totally different experience; she was going so much faster than the people she’d seen cantering — including Hallbjörn himself moments ago — had certainly seemed to be going.

Bergljót was about ready for Hallbjörn to stop because she felt like she was going to fall off or something when suddenly Nótt picked up speed and Bergljót realised from the sound of the hoofbeats in her ears that Hallbjörn now had Nótt galloping.

Closing her eyes in fright, Bergljót tightened her grip on Hallbjörn as she flew she didn’t really want to know where for an unnervingly long time before suddenly Nótt reared.

“It’s alright,” Hallbjörn soothed, his hand on hers. “I’ve got him completely under control — besides, being on his back is far safer than being off it when he’s galloping or rearing.”

Bergljót trembled, refusing to release her grip. She’d never gone so fast in her life, and she didn’t know that she ever wanted to go that fast again, there was such a thing as too fast.

Troubled Waters: Day 13

Word Count: 78,012

Summary of Events:

Hallbjörn lunged Nótt for a bit before deciding — seeing how Nótt was being consistently better behaved in recent days — to try riding Nótt, even if he didn't have a saddle; his attempt, admittedly, went better than he'd expected, as Nótt wasn't hostile at all. Bergljót had a private conversation with her father about her older sister, who was starting to give her more grief than usual. Hallbjörn, with the saddle that was finally completed, went to see how Nótt would receive the saddle . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Finally Hallbjörn settled the blanket neatly in place, albeit a little ahead of where it was supposed to sit, then he took up the saddle, making sure that the cinch was across the seat and the stirrup was hooked on the horn.

Hoisting it into a comfortable position, Hallbjörn then easily swung it onto Nótt’s back and slid both it and the blanket back into position.

Nótt stood completely calm and unbothered, waiting for Hallbjörn to keep going.

Satisfied that Nótt wasn’t going to make any trouble, Hallbjörn lifted the stirrup off the horn and let it drop against Nótt’s other side; he then pushed the cinch over to join it and lifted the stirrup on his side up onto the horn.

Reaching under Nótt’s belly, Hallbjörn took up the cinch and fed its strap into the buckle on his side, making sure the cinch was close to Nótt’s belly.

Hallbjörn then checked how centred it was by looking between Nótt’s forelegs from the front to see if the martingale ring was in the middle.

It wasn’t, so Hallbjörn made the adjustments necessary on both sides of the cinch to be sure that it was before tightening the cinch completely. He then did up the rear cinch not quite so tightly, tapping Nótt’s belly to be sure the stallion hadn’t held his breath.

Checking the saddle for wiggle, Hallbjörn was satisfied that it would hold him and swung aboard with ease.

He checked the stirrup lengths and adjusted them before dismounting and lunging Nótt with the empty saddle on his back just to warm him up a little bit more.

Hallbjörn then put on the bridle — equipped with a washed bit from one of the tanner’s bridles — and did some closer work with the reins, making sure that Nótt was softened and suppled enough to yield well.

Satisfied that Nótt was as ready as he’d ever be, Hallbjörn put on the spurs and swung up into the saddle. He sat still for a few moments even after he was settled and was holding his reins comfortably.

Once Hallbjörn was sure that Nótt was wondering why he’d gone through all that work if he wasn’t going to do anything, Hallbjörn asked Nótt for a walk in the track around the perimeter of the barn, which looked to have dried out and healed some in the weeks since he’d been able to hold the lead and lunge Nótt.

Before they’d even gotten halfway up the long side of the barn Hallbjörn asked Nótt for a trot and posted neatly for the whole circuit before asking Nótt for a canter, which he sat for two whole circuits before asking Nótt for a gallop.

He leaned in close to Nótt’s neck, not caring that the stallion’s mane was flapping wildly in his face, its coarse and tangled hairs stinging his cheeks, and let Nótt carry him around in a gallop for three complete circuits before he brought Nótt down to a canter for four circuits, and then down to a trot for three, then a walk again for part of one.

Troubled Waters: Day 12

Word Count: 72,008

Summary of Events:

Bergljót came in from having spent another afternoon watching Hallbjörn work with Nótt and got into an argument with her older sister, who harboured contempt for Hallbjörn and accused Bergljót of being infatuated with him. Hallbjörn was able to clip the lead onto Nótt's halter and lunge him at closer range; somewhat in frustration he worked Nótt quite hard, but in the end he felt like he'd made something of a breakthrough with the stallion. Bergljót was startled to find Hallbjörn waiting for her at the bottom of the tree she watched him in when she climbed down from having, once again, watched him work with Nótt . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“How much work have you done with horses?” Hallbjörn asked.

“None really,” Bergljót replied. “I haven’t even ridden one in some time. It’s not dignified for a woman.”

“Then I am to presume your saddler knows nothing of constructing sidesaddles,” Hallbjörn said.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Bergljót said.

“It is a saddle with only one stirrup and two protrusions angled off to the side, one comes over the leg that sits in the stirrup, and the other rests under the leg that would normally be on the other side, so then they’re both collected on the same side in a more ladylike fashion,” Hallbjörn replied. “They are a weightier saddle and the horse wearing it must undergo special training to be ridden properly, using a whip to cue the side no legs are on.”

“Although really, around here, where would a woman need to ride?” Bergljót asked.

“Another valuable point,” Hallbjörn replied.

“Why are you wanting to know?” Bergljót asked.

“In order to get the rope maker to fashion me this whip, I agreed to hold a demonstration of Nótt’s rehabilitation and civility,” Hallbjörn replied. “In fact, I am getting a complete set of new tack from the saddler on the provision that I do the same.”

A barter of a service for an object? Bergljót had never heard of that before.

“As much as I can indeed show those things by handling Nótt by myself, I thought it wouldn’t be altogether ill if I were to have someone else participate in the demonstration to show just how civilised and rehabilitated Nótt is,” Hallbjörn continued. “And I don’t think there could possibly be a better candidate than a young woman, and what better young woman than the very same one this stallion so viciously attacked?”

“But I told you, I don’t know anything,” Bergljót said.

“But you can be taught,” Hallbjörn replied. “You won’t be riding him.”

“Just you will be?” Bergljót asked.

“I don’t know,” Hallbjörn replied. “Do you have any suggestions for who else might be good to ride him?”

“Well there are several good riders in the area, most any man that trains horses is a good rider,” Bergljót replied. “Out of all of them the Governor is probably the one you’d find easiest to identify because his clothes aren’t as simple as everyone else’s — even if they aren’t made by someone in Óðinnborg.”

Hallbjörn nodded.

“So what exactly would I be doing?” Bergljót asked.

“Lunging,” Hallbjörn replied.

“And is that what you’ve been doing with Nótt these last few days?” Bergljót asked.

“Yes,” Hallbjörn replied. “When it’s nearly time for the demonstration I’ll have you practise just to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“So I’ll do the lunging and the Governor will do the riding?” Bergljót asked.

“I’ll do riding as well,” Hallbjörn replied. “Although I’m sure that the Governor is a good rider, I don’t know that he will be able to show everyone the fullness of Nótt’s abilities and skills; and he may just find it enjoyable to watch them for himself anyways.”

Troubled Waters: Day 11

Word Count: 66,033

Summary of Events:

Hallbjörn decided to go back to the basics like Bergljót had suggested, and to that end went into Haldabænum to get a whip that he had to convince the rope maker to make on the promise he'd give a demonstration that Nótt was rideable to the town. Bergljót went up into the tree to watch the cellar door for any signs of the theif, puzzled by why Hallbjörn wasn't in the barn working with Nótt — and, admittedly, slightly disappointed she wouldn't be able to see if he made any progress. Hallbjörn, having gotten the whip, went to work with Nótt, and was actually somewhat able to lunge him — except that Nótt chose to go at a full gallop, which winded Hallbjörn, who paused to get a drink of water from Nótt's water bucket . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Once Hallbjörn at least felt like his mouth would stay moist for a few minutes he got up and started back toward Nótt.

As he got Nótt restarted, Hallbjörn held the whip so it was more in front of Nótt’s chest and made like he would’ve tapped Nótt’s chest, had he actually been close enough to touch the stallion, repeating the calm, monotone command for Nótt to be easy, which was the cue to slow down.

Nótt, however, wasn’t inclined to listen, and kept tearing around the perimeter at a gallop, and Hallbjörn was hard-pressed to not scream it at him, but that was counter to what he wanted, so he forced himself to remain calm and level as he repeated the command.

Finally — and Hallbjörn was sure it was more from fatigue than from obedience, as Nótt’s coat was quite darkened with sweat — Nótt slowed down to a canter.

“Easy Nótt,” Hallbjörn said. “You’re the one wearing yourself out. I don’t want you to go this fast. Easy.”

After a couple more commands Nótt slowed down to a trot, and it was possible that Nótt had done so more out of obedience than fatigue, but Hallbjörn couldn’t be sure. He released the pressure, but kept Nótt moving.

He let Nótt trot around a few more times before asking him to slow down again. It took two commands before Nótt slowed to a walk. Immediately Hallbjörn released pressure, but kept Nótt moving at the much easier to follow walk.

“See?” Hallbjörn said. “That’s what I wanted.”

As they walked around the perimeter of the barn Hallbjörn wondered if he should keep going all the way to stopping Nótt, or if he should try picking him back up to a trot and seeing if he could bring Nótt back down again, to be sure Nótt was responding to him.

If he asked Nótt to speed up and Nótt went straight into a gallop, though, Hallbjörn didn’t know that he had the energy to bring Nótt back down all the way from there; he honestly felt quite exhausted, it might be best to stop at a good place.

“Whoa Nótt,” Hallbjörn said. “Whoa.”

Nótt stopped, he looked like he’d gotten his breath back some — as Hallbjörn had — but he still looked worn out. It wasn’t likely he would take off at a gallop; Hallbjörn was sorely tempted.

No, he didn’t want to run Nótt into the ground either. The fact that he’d been able to get Nótt to turn when he commanded was progress enough. He walked over to the ladder and sat down on a low rung.

Producing a carrot from the pail, he managed to throw it in Nótt’s direction in spite of his tiredness. He waited until Nótt ambled over and ate it before tossing another carrot and climbing up the ladder with heavy limbs. He was going to be very sore come the morning.

Troubled Waters: Day 10

Word Count: 60,118

Summary of Events:

Bergljót discovered a string of sausages and a jar of pickled beets were missing from the cellar, suggesting the thieves were human, but she was at a loss as to who they might be. Hallbjörn had another frustrating day with Nótt and was astonished to be presented with a large and delicious dinner, including cake, that he realised was in honour of his birthday. Bergljót felt badly that Hallbjörn had been so touched as to cry over the birthday dinner, and so went to his room to check on him later and he invited her in to talk; before meaning to leave she expressed hope things would go better with Nótt soon . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Exhaling heavily — suggesting a pessimistic tone — Hallbjörn shook his head before looking at Bergljót. “I have a feeling I’ll be stuck here for years trying to get through to him.”

“Oh surely not,” Bergljót said, surprised at his pessimism.

“I’ve never had to rehabilitate or tame a horse,” Hallbjörn said.

“But have you taught a horse how to be ridden?” Bergljót asked.

“Yes,” Hallbjörn replied. “My father’s the King’s Own Horse-Breeder, and although I’m not his firstborn son I’m the one who’s better with horses, thus I’m the one likely to inherit the estate and title.”

Bergljót startled. To be the King’s Own of anything was very important, and the son of such a man was sleeping in her older brother’s old bed, staying in her house, eating her food?

“You seem shocked,” Hallbjörn said.

“I would’ve only thought you to be an employee of a man of that importance, not his son,” Bergljót said.

“Well I am,” Hallbjörn replied. “And Nótt already knows how to be ridden, what’s the sense of going back and doing it all over again?”

“I don’t know,” Bergljót said.

Hallbjörn sighed, sounding quite defeated.

“I think you’re both too fixated on the shipwreck and the storm,” Bergljót said. “It’s the last time either of you saw each other until now really, and it’s such a terrifying thing it’s hard to forget. Maybe it would help to go back and do something you know how to do, both of you, as it will remind you of quieter times, happier times, safer times.”

“You really think so?” Hallbjörn asked.

“Anything’s worth a try, I’d think,” Bergljót replied. “After all, I can’t speak from experience, I’ve never seen a horse taught to be ridden before. But it’s something you both know, so it should be easier.”

Hallbjörn said nothing for a long time, Bergljót started to feel like her eyelids were heavy.

“Here you go again,” Hallbjörn said. “Coming up with ideas that just seriously might work.”

“We’ll have to see in the morning, though,” Bergljót said.

“Yes,” Hallbjörn said.

Bergljót got to her feet, feeling slightly uncomfortable as Hallbjörn’s hand caught her arm and slid down its length as she moved away.

His grip tightened when he got to her fingers. She turned around to protest, only to have him gently kiss her fingers just above the back of her hand. He released her hand, laid back down, and turned onto his side so that his back was facing her.

Slowly and somewhat warily Bergljót pulled her hand to herself, rubbing over her fingers where his lips had pressed. She had just been kissed by the son of the King’s Own Horse-Breeder. The only man who’d ever kissed her before was Papa.

Somewhat alarmed, Bergljót hurried out of the room and into her own, scrambling into her nightdress and under the covers as quickly as possible. Even if it had only been a gentlemanly gesture, Bergljót couldn’t help but feel shocked and unsettled by the encounter.

Troubled Waters: Day 9

Word Count: 54,047

Summary of Events:

Bergljót, feeling well enough, walked to the window to see if the men had caught Nótt and noticed Hallbjörn was bleeding, so she went outside and climbed the tree in which Hallbjörn was seated watching Nótt inside the barn and tended to the wound. A heavy rain — and need of a new shirt — kept Hallbjörn cooped up, and Bergljót's older sister was not pleased at his presence. Bergljót learned from Hallbjörn that his birthday was in four days, and so she decided they should do something for the occasion, seeing how fortunate he was to be alive, and how he was without his family. Once the weather cleared, Hallbjörn started work with Nótt, which, at this point, was sitting astride the barn wall throwing carrots . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

It didn’t get as close to Nótt as Hallbjörn had been hoping for, but it didn’t go unnoticed; in fact, Nótt jumped at the sight of it, all four of his legs going stiff and slightly spread out, his ears flicking around.

After a moment Nótt turned toward where the carrot had landed and carefully crept toward it.

When he figured out it was a carrot, he ate it eagerly; carrots were his favourite snack.

Once he’d finished it, Hallbjörn selected another carrot and tossed it down, a little ahead of Nótt, who didn’t startle quite as violently, and went for it sooner. Hallbjörn used a couple more carrots to draw Nótt over to the wall which he was straddling and then took the light cord he’d brought along and tied a carrot to it securely before gradually lowering the carrot.

This carrot sent Nótt into a panic. He fled from it and ran around the perimeter for some time before stopping to look at it again. Hallbjörn wiggled the cord and as soon as the carrot moved Nótt was off again.

Hallbjörn tried to keep the carrot as still as possible the next time around, but Nótt still wouldn’t approach it and ran around again.

It wasn’t until he’d looked at the unmoving — albeit floating — carrot almost a dozen times that Nótt actually approached it, but then he bumped it with his own nose, setting it moving again, and off he went.

By the time Nótt hazarded a bite at the carrot Hallbjörn’s backside was starting to feel numb from sitting on the stone. When Nótt realised it was a carrot he ate it readily, even pulling the cord into his mouth until he’d chewed the carrot out of it.

Hallbjörn then pulled the cord back up and tied another carrot to it, grimacing as he touched the horse-slobbered cord to untie it and retie it around the carrot, which was of a slightly different diameter.

Again he lowered the carrot and Nótt panicked upon seeing it coming, but Hallbjörn didn’t tease the cord at all, he just waited patiently for Nótt to settle down enough to realise that it was just another carrot and eat it again.

“Hello Nótt,” Hallbjörn said once the carrot was eaten.

Immediately Nótt panicked and tore around the track again. He ran wildly and for longer than he’d done with the carrot.

“Easy Nótt, please,” Hallbjörn said. “You know me, don’t you?”

He kept talking, but Nótt didn’t seem to be hearing him, he was just running around in a mad panic, so Hallbjörn stopped talking and sent another carrot down instead. It took a very long time before Nótt even noticed the carrot, and he was quite wary of coming to eat it.

Surely it would take years before he was able to get Nótt to be civil enough to ride again; and the islanders, he was sure, weren’t going to let him go anywhere until he got Nótt to behave like a civilised horse.

Troubled Waters: Day 8

Word Count: 48,019

Summary of Events:

After a day of fruitless pursuit in which even the sturdy ropes failed to hold Nótt, Hallbjörn was given a bed for the night by Bergljót's father. The next morning her father shared a plan for catching Nótt which he had come up with that might work better seeing as ropes weren't even successful; the plan involved men on horseback forming a tight perimeter around Nótt and driving him into Tryggvi's barn. Hallbjörn, although doubtful of the plan's success, participated in its enactment . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

The leader called for another man by name to join Hallbjörn in steering Nótt toward the door in the barn as the north and south flanks met in the west and the circle steadily closed in.

Nótt was not pleased at having two horses chasing him more concentratedly than the others and proved to be a challenge to steer in the right direction.

Hallbjörn called instructions to the other rider — whom he was grateful to note heeded them — such as calls to release the pressure on Nótt when he started heading east toward the door, but to put it back on when he started to turn away from the door.

As the circle closed in tighter, a second circle of abreast horses following close behind it — and the men who were to help shut and brace the door trailing behind on foot — Nótt was running out of places to run, but he seemed to be resisting the urge to escape into the barn, even though the release of pressure on him to move when he headed that way should’ve encouraged him to go in.

It was starting to be an uncomfortably small area for three horses to be in when Nótt reared and screamed before charging at Hallbjörn, who was ready for the blow.

Nótt slowed, but didn’t fully stop, and reached out his head, seizing his teeth about Hallbjörn’s forearm.

Tears of pain sprang to Hallbjörn’s eyes, but he resisted the urge to cry out and slap Nótt with the tail end of his reins.

Instead, he used his other hand and seized the leather cheekpiece of the halter on Nótt’s head.

Pushing the stallion away from himself while asking the gelding underneath him for a tight pivot, he turned himself away from the barn door to be alongside Nótt and then fought to push the stallion around to face the door.

All of the men around the edge hollered and bellowed, objects swinging to urge Nótt toward the doorway.

Hallbjörn switched to his left hand on the cheekpiece, taking the rein ends in his right hand. He drove his gelding forward with leg pressure while slapping the rein ends against Nótt’s powerful hindquarters until he’d ridden into the barn with Nótt.

Immediately he released Nótt and stopped slapping. Nótt charged away from him and Hallbjörn quickly reversed the gelding out of the barn.

The other men surged in close to the door to keep Nótt from getting out as the men on foot heaved the door into place, then they put the bracing into position as everyone slowly backed away and dispersed, not fully letting their guard down until all the bracing was solidly set.

Just as the last piece was set into place everyone was startled by a bang. Nótt had bucked at the door, but the door had held sway and there were no concerns. Finally Nótt was contained.

Troubled Waters: Day 7

Word Count: 42,031

Summary of Events:

Hallbjörn met with Bergljót's father, who showed him some sympathy for his own trauma from the shipwreck, but yet was not intent to let him off working with Nótt Höfðingi. Bergljót and her father talked about Hallbjörn while she ate supper, both of them feeling pity for him, seeing as he'd suffered in the shipwreck just as much as the stallion had. Hallbjörn was reluctantly helping search for the stallion when he was come upon by several men chasing Nótt Höfðingi, whom they caught by surrounding him against the edge of a cliff; unfortunately the rope he was still wearing broke, causing him to escape again. Bergljót had been carried outside to sit and watch her siblings as they finished preparing the garden for winter, although her thoughts quickly turned to the stallion . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

She looked to her right as far as she could, which gave her a little bit of a view of Haldabænum, where tacked up horses stood at the ready for any sighting of Nótt Höfðingi — even though reports from yesterday were that he’d headed for the east.

Several attempts had been made to catch the stallion that had very nearly been successful. Bergljót had even heard that he’d nearly been caught at the Cliffside Clearing, except that his lead clasp had given way under the repeated pulling and fighting, meaning that the stallion only bore his halter.

Thus, the rope makers were busy fashioning strong, stout cords that would be light and supple enough to throw over Nótt Höfðingi’s neck, but yet strong and stout enough to withstand hard resistance.

It was hoped, then, that they would be able to rope the stallion and haul him somewhere contained that way.

One thing that Bergljót wondered, though, was where exactly they meant to take the stallion. Yes they wanted him somewhere contained, but there wasn’t really anywhere on Virki that she could think of which would be a good place to keep him.

Many farmers had barns for their stock, but the barns were always full. There was no room for extra horses, and especially not traumatised horses like Nótt Höfðingi.

Furthermore, the only pens that existed were for containing much more controllable stallions or mothers who were due to give birth imminently — whether cow, sheep, goat, pig, or horse.

Because these pens were made for containing horses that weren’t panicking they weren’t made too tall, but more importantly than that, they were made only of wood rails that could be broken if a horse were to throw itself against them.

If Nótt Höfðingi wanted he could throw himself against the rails and be free again, necessitating another chase.

Additionally, although there was stone on Virki, there wasn’t a lot; most of it, in fact, was tied up in buildings: namely the half-dozen barns that had been built before King Ármann’s reign, when times had been good and goods had been inexpensive.

Aside from Tryggvi’s barn, all of these barns were in use and didn’t have the space to be spared.

Bergljót shifted her jaw and wished that she could get up and turn to look at the hollowed-out, roofless stone building that loomed in the distance behind her. She wondered if that was where they planned on putting Nótt Höfðingi, or if, honestly, anyone had actually thought that far.

It would probably be best to ask Papa if he knew where it was planned that Nótt Höfðingi would be taken once he was captured, or if anyone knew, and maybe even to tell him that as far as she knew Tryggvi’s barn was the only place he could be taken.

After all, part of her was rather suspicious that no one had actually thought about where Nótt Höfðingi would be put after he was caught, they’d just focused singularly on catching him.

Troubled Waters: Day 6

Word Count: 36,013

Summary of Events:

Bergljót discovered another string of sausage links missing and set a trap to see if it was a dog or something getting into the cellar before she went to visit the horses; a strange grey was among them and when she went to approach him he attacked her. A man brought word of the attack to Hallbjörn, who was goaded into heading back to Haldabænum with the man to track the horse — Nótt Höfðingi — down. Bergljót was on bed rest for a week because she might've fractured bones, and Hallbjörn was brought to meet her by her brother Brynjar's friend, who seemed displeased that Hallbjörn had no desire to seek after his stallion, even after Bergljót recounted the attack . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“And you stand there as unemotional as a post,” Brynjar’s friend spat. “You probably wouldn’t have stopped the stallion if you would’ve been there.”

Bergljót looked at Hallbjörn, his gaze was blankly fixed over her head. She didn’t know that he was really all that unemotional. It looked to her like he was trying to hide in plain sight, as if he wanted to be there, but didn’t want to at the same time.

“What will it take–”

“Stop,” Bergljót said, interrupting Brynjar’s friend. “Leave him alone.”

“His horse nearly killed you and you’re telling me to go easy on him?” Brynjar’s friend asked.

“My father’s horse,” Hallbjörn said, his gaze unmoving, and irritation strong in his voice.

Brynjar’s friend sighed. “My question still stands.”

“He survived the unsurvivable,” Bergljót said. “Alone.”

“And . . . ?” Brynjar’s friend asked.

“Do you know what relationship he had with those who died?” Bergljót asked. “And he lost horses. His father’s horses or not, he would’ve had contact with them; he would’ve known them from little colts. It can’t be easy to lose them.”

“You’re having pity on the man whose horse almost killed you,” Brynjar’s friend said, as if he couldn’t believe it.
“He needs someone to,” Bergljót said.

“You do realise he’s from Óðinnborg, don’t you?” Brynjar’s friend asked.

“So?” Bergljót asked. “He’s still from Ena, and even if he were from Ane or Nea it shouldn’t make a difference, they were all one kingdom once, and could easily be again someday.”

Brynjar’s friend sighed. “Women.”

Bergljót turned her gaze back toward Hallbjörn. He looked frozen in place, and yet she also felt like he’d softened somewhat. She wondered if he’d been afraid she was mad at him, and was now reassured that she wasn’t mad at him and feeling relief as a result.

“Let’s go start looking for him,” Brynjar’s friend said.

He turned and walked toward the door; Hallbjörn didn’t follow him right away, but he did start moving before he could be called to.

Bergljót watched him leave and sighed. She felt quite sorry for him. Being the sole survivor of a major tragedy like that had to be emotionally taxing, and being pressured by people to track down and deal with a horse that assuredly only reminded him of the traumatic storm couldn’t be easy either.

Yet, truly, it was his duty, and his duty alone, to track the stallion down; the stallion was his, after all. Besides, to be quite honest, Bergljót felt like Hallbjörn needed to do it, and Nótt Höfðingi needed him to do it, not anyone else.

Aside from the other horse, each was all the other had left. They needed to see each other, to work with each other, and to trust each other if they wanted to have any sort of peace or comfort regarding the tragedy whatsoever. Only they knew the suffering each other had endured, and only they could help each other come to grips with the trauma.

Troubled Waters: Day 5

Word Count: 30,029

Summary of Events:

Bergljót went to deliver water to the men working on clearing the roadways of falling trees and was charged by an aggressive ram, but the ram's owner butchered it on the spot to keep it from harming her — or any other unsuspecting people. Hallbjörn saw a horse for the first time since the shipwreck and actually felt motivated to move on his own instead of being helped around. Bergljót saw a messenger ride into town and wondered about what he might have come to report while she made supper; when her father and brothers arrived home she could tell her father knew what the messenger had said, but he waited to tell everyone . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

In spite of the anticipation on her brothers’ faces, Papa bowed his head and everyone repeated the blessing before they all looked to Papa, because they could all tell — in part by the fact that he’d not spoken aside from the blessing — that he had something to say.

“There was a messenger who came to town today,” Papa said.

“And?” Jónatan asked, obviously dying of suspense.

“It is not legend, but fact,” Papa replied. “A Ship-Wrecker can be survived.”

“Someone survived?” Ragnhildur asked.

“Yes,” Papa replied. “A young man who was supposed to have delivered a half dozen horses to the King of Deuschbren was towed ashore by one of them.”

“But everyone else on the ship died?” Bergljót asked.

“Yes,” Papa replied.

“How sad,” Bergljót said.

“But someone actually survived?” Gunnar asked.

“Yes,” Papa replied. “He and two horses.”

“Oh,” Helena cried. “Some of the horses died too?”

“Unfortunately yes,” Papa replied.

Bergljót looked sympathetically at her younger sister. She liked horses too, and it was sad to think some of the beautiful creatures had been drowned. Likely they’d been trapped in the hold and had no way to escape before they were overcome.

“Neither of the surviving horses are contained at this point in time,” Papa said. “So you’re to keep an eye out for strange horses.”

“Are they to be delivered to the King of Deuschbren then?” Bergljót asked.

“Well they at least have to be contained to keep people safe,” Papa replied. “It is suspected they may be traumatised by the storm and could cause people to get hurt.”

“Has the young man left?” Brynjar asked.

“No,” Papa replied. “From the sounds of things he’s recuperating in a coastal village near where he was found.”

“Even still after a month?” Jónatan asked.

“If a Ship-Wrecker has been unsurvivable for all these years,” Bergljót said. “Surely that means that to have survived it was no easy feat.”

“I guess,” Jónatan conceded. 

“They found him washed up on the shore?” Gunnar asked.

“As far as I know,” Papa replied. “I was only given a few details, not his whole life story.”

“Why is it special that he survived?” Svana asked.

“Not even the oldest man on Virki can remember someone having ever survived a storm that bad,” Papa replied.

“Oh, in the storm?” Svana asked. “The scary storm?”
“Yes, his boat crashed into the reef in that storm and broke up,” Papa replied. “And he was able to not be killed.”

“Oh,” Svana said. “That’s why it’s special?”

“Yes,” Papa replied.

“Will we meet him?” Tómas asked.

“I don’t know,” Papa said.

“You’d think, if the news is being spread across the island he’d almost have to do a tour of the island just so we can all see him and tell about him to the generations after us, until he passes into legend and we need to have another survivor come along to make the whole idea believable again,” Brynjar said.

“Very true,” Papa agreed.

Pronunciations:

Ragnhildur: rahg'nhilldur