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.