Oath Bound: Day 6

Word Count: 36,005

Summary of Events:

Friðljót was taken before her mother to be condemned for her behaviour and told she had one week to start getting dressed and leaving her bedroom or she was going to suffer. Aðalbjörn took the finished holder for the stone, attached to a cord, and gave it to his niece, who was quite pleased with the stone, which she found mesmerising. Friðljót, having not done as her mother demanded during the week, was brought again before her and screamed at by her mother for her behaviour . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

A strange and frightful croaking sound startled Friðljót and she watched tremblingly as her father’s long-bearded jaw moved consistent with the croaking noises. She couldn’t make them out as words, they just sounded like a parched, dried-out frog or some other sort of sick and dying creature trying to call for help.

“Yes, you are right my lord,” her mother said. “Try though she may, Friðljót will not be able to get out of the agreement we have made.”

Friðljót lifted her jaw defiantly.

“When comes the fifth waxing of the moon from this day, that is when you shall marry Snerrigeírr of Uppodlingland,” her mother said, her tone and gaze as cold as the winter winds off the sea.

“I would rather be dead,” Friðljót snapped boldly.

Her mother’s eyebrows jumped and her whole posture took on a look of intrigue, but she said nothing for a long moment, although the intrigue remained etched on her face.

“You would rather be dead?” she asked finally.

“Yes,” Friðljót replied firmly, although a knot of dread was starting to form within her.

“So be it,” her mother replied briskly.

The chill of her mother’s tone, the unnerving calm of her expression as she said the words, caused the knot and all else in Friðljót to freeze.

“Because of your violation of the agreement made with Snerrigeírr of Uppodlingland, the sacrifice shall be to Vár,” her mother said calmly — as if talking about what was going to be had for the evening meal. “And in hopes that we will be victorious when he comes in war against us for the violation of said agreement, it shall also be to Valfreyja.”

Friðljót felt a great fear and wondered just what she had done.

“Lest the goddesses reject the sacrifice, they shall have it when the moon is fully waned,” her mother added. “Take her, and let her be prepared accordingly.”

Immediately Friðljót was turned and hauled out of the hall and back before the crowd, who cheered initially, but yet she was sure they could tell that she was not returning out to them with the same stubborn confidence she’d shown before.

She couldn’t. Once again her mother had done something she hadn’t begun to expect and she was left wondering how she was going to get out of it.

Now she had been sentenced to death, to be sacrificed to the goddess of pledges and the goddess of war, and there were assuredly no ways to escape this end than she’d already considered as options for escaping her betrothal. If anything, there were less.

Bitterly she wondered now why she hadn’t kept her mouth shut, but yet the face of Snerrigeírr repulsed her, and surely the death would be swift and not lingering; she would rather be a sacrifice than be a prisoner, because at least once she was dead as a sacrifice she wouldn’t feel anything.

Pronunciations:

Vár: vaur

Valfreyja: vahlfreeyah