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.