Thorolf

by Vanessa Brooks

  “Again!” he cried, following up with further encouragement from the switch.

  “It was not my fault my beautiful wild wolf was killed!” she cried.

  “And again!”

  “It wasn’t my fault that Shadow died! It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t my fault. Sweet Jesu, it wasn’t my fault, but oh, ye Gods, I wish I’d been there to save him!” Ailsa sobbed, finally collapsing against the tree.

  Strong arms surrounded her, and she turned instinctively to burrow into his warmth. He smoothed her damp hair away from her tear-drenched face and gently placed a palm to the side of her head, melding her to him.

  “There, ’tis over, sweet cat.”

  She wept into his chest.

  “Hush now, it is done. We shall return home and begin afresh. I shall guide you over our threshold, and you will honour me all of my days with your obedient submission. Turnabout and grasp the tree. Push out your arse. ”

  10

  Gratified that his wife had done as he’d asked without question, he moved behind her and ran his hands down either side of her flanks, allowing his thumbs to graze the cleft of her womanhood. To feel how wet she was thrilled him beyond measure, a testimony to her desire to be mastered, and by Thor, he did intend to master her.

  Gathering her slick juices with his hand, he ran them up her furrow, over her private hole. He pressed his thumb against the ring of resistance and watched as it bridged her defences, slipping inside, gripped hard by the heat of her dark channel. She moaned and shifted uncomfortably, yet made no attempt to stall him.

  “To whom do you belong?” he asked, growling in her ear. This was her final lesson in submitting to him as her lord and husband.

  “Y-you, and you alone, my lord,” she sounded breathless.

  “Gud, elskan,” he praised as he removed his thumb. “You can face me now.” She turned. “Drop to your knees,” he commanded.

  Once she was in position, he offered her his engorged shaft. He gave his brave little cat credit—she opened wide and sucked his erection deep into her mouth with astonishing skill. He found the sight of her rosy lips parted ready to receive his cock incredibly erotic. Slowly, he moved his hips forward, pumping his thickened organ between her lips. Twisting his hand in her beautiful whorl of knotted hair, he thrust vigorously into the warm ingress of her mouth, just as his greedy manhood demanded.

  Close to release, he stopped her ministrations and pulled her to her feet, hefting her into his arms; he backed her up against the tree. Her legs parted about his waist as he lowered her onto his aching staff, penetrating her body deeply. She shuddered and wrapped her arms about his neck. He claimed her with powerful thrusts. Thorolf left Ailsa with no uncertainty that she belonged to him. He felt satisfaction at her lusty cries; they must have surely startled many beasts in the forest with their volume.

  The delicious tightening of his sac heralded his release. He grunted with satisfaction as he flooded her, knowing that he marked her afresh as his and his alone.

  Her sweet nature became more apparent with each passing day. His little cat settled into her role, seeming happy as his wife and partner. He had not understood how much Ailsa was troubled by the knowledge that her first husband might still be living. Now that Irb was gone, it was as though a dark cloud had been lifted from her. Alarik had been right. Thorolf had not been strong enough with her. He resolved to thank the man for his sound advice when next they spoke, but he would not apologise for his Viking pride.

  Smiling, he watched his wife strew newly cut rushes over the freshly swept floor of their home. She sang while she worked her voice sweet and lilting. Thorolf caught her to him and pressed a demanding kiss to her lips. He lifted his palm and smacked her rounded arse, chuckling delightedly at her squeal of protest. Releasing her, he reminded her to stay safely within the boundaries of Achnaryrie.

  “I shall return before nightfall. Thor willing, we shall kill a large boar. Be good, and do not leave the settlement without company and on no account…”

  “I know, I know, do not enter the forest!” she sang, impudently finishing his sentence.

  Chuckling, he smacked her bottom again.

  “Wicked vif, interrupting me. It is clear I have not disciplined you oft enough,” he spoke with mock severity, spinning her about to kiss her while he added another hearty welt to her backside.

  Her squeals and giggles brought a grin to his face. There had been genuine heat in her embrace. His cock reared up hopefully, but with regret, Thorolf had to disappoint his greedy hordund; after all, it had received plenty of exercise during the night!

  The men stalked a large boar. Finally surrounding it, Alarik killed the creature. The strength and ease with which he took down the mighty beast brought him much praise from his comrades. Thorolf drew the short straw, tasked with leaving no evidence that they had been there. The men did not want any enemies discovering their hunting ground.

  After he had covered the blood with debris and swept the disturbed ground with shrubbery, he tarried awhile, content to listen to the soothing sounds of the forest. Birds sang, their chirrups a reassurance that there was no immediate threat or danger nearby, while small rustlings on and around the forest floor spoke of rodents going about their daily task of survival.

  The hollow wail of a wolf in pain rent the air… What on earth?

  Instantly alert, he listened. There it was again, the distinctive cry of an animal suffering. He made his way toward the sound, eventually coming to an area of thick, thorny undergrowth, the kind of place a wounded wolf might choose to hide. Thorolf dropped to the ground and crawled into the mass of prickly bushes, cursing silently as his face and hands bore the brunt of scratches. Finally, parting dense branches, he came across a hidden bower wherein laid a wolf. A wolf he knew well. Mani.

  She turned a sorrowful gaze upon him as he drew himself inside. She seemed too weak to do more than stare at him as he shuffled on his knees to reach her. Thorolf ran his hands over her emaciated form. The wolf had not fared well alone, that much was plain to see. Detaching his skin of water, he slowly dribbled liquid onto her tongue. She lapped up the water, her thirst obvious. While she drank, he cast an anxious gaze over her, immediately he saw her problem. Mani was in labour. Two tiny whelps curled at her stomach, feeding from her teats. A bulge protruded under her tail, and he realised the next pup was stuck in the birth canal. Mani was too weak to turn and tug it out for herself. Thorolf wondered how long she’d lain here in this predicament.

  Gently, he worked to ease the large cub free from her body. It was a difficult task, one he took his time over. With his overlarge hands he fumbled, cursing as the female whimpered with pain. The last thing he wanted was to cause her more distress. At last the cub came loose, and Mani whined. Thorolf took a moment to turn and caress her head, offering reassurance. With mumbled endearments spoken in Norse, he calmed her. Once the tiny wolf lay in his hand, he knew that it was dead. Glancing down he saw there was another that had been held behind the larger cub.

  Easing the little pup from the birth canal, Thorolf took it between his palms and yanked open the sac that enclosed it, rubbing the tiny body briskly in an attempt to revive the animal, but it must have suffocated. There was no way to bring it back to life. He shuffled up to Mani’s nose and placed the dead cubs where she could sniff her young, but she turned her head away, disinterested. Thorolf moved them aside in order to bring her surviving pair for her to check. This time, she licked each of her squirming pups.

  Once she was done, he placed both whelps back onto her teats where they continued to suckle. Rummaging in his pack, he extracted some dried venison which he attempted to feed her. She took a portion into her mouth but seemed unable to chew. Thorolf tried her with some more water, but she made no effort to drink either.

  With bowed head, he muttered a prayer to Thor. Mani whimpered, attracting his attention. He shifted her head gently onto his lap and cradled her between his thighs. He stroked between her ears, all the while mutte
ring tender words of affection. Although she could not understand, his husky voice seemed to soothe and comfort her. Feebly, she licked his hand.

  Thorolf pondered his choices. A sudden hoarse cry alerted him to the fact the she-wolf lay in death’s thrall. Helplessly, he watched Mani shudder and spasm, giving up her fight to live. The poor beast died in his arms.

  His eyes misted over. With his hand resting on her pale matted pelt, he called to the gods to take her spirit, entreating them to send her to where Shadow ran alongside the gods, asking them to allow her to run with her mate, free together forever, safe in Valhalla. He wept, not attempting to stave off his tears. Brave Mani deserved the honour of his grief; besides, there was no one there to judge.

  Finally, he removed his fur cape and wrapped the two surviving pups warmly inside. He placed them out of harm’s way before he began the task of burying the proud she-wolf and her deceased young.

  His wife had obviously had one of her insightful moments, because as he drew near their dwelling, Ailsa appeared, her body tense. Approaching her, he noticed she chewed nervously upon her bottom lip.

  “I have grave tidings,” he began.

  “Oh no…I felt something… Has someone been hurt?” she interrupted anxiously.

  “Neinn. Come inside, and I will explain.”

  Inside, he held out his hands, palms up, each one containing a tiny mewling scrap of fur. Instead of the joy he’d expected to see filling her eyes, there was distress writ across her lovely features.

  “Oh no, where did you get those from?” she asked, almost fearfully.

  He frowned. “I did not take them, if that is your meaning. I came across poor Mani, she was dying. An overlarge pup had blocked her birth canal; both that cub and another were stillborn. I have no idea how long Mani had been there. She was so weak and died after I helped her. I buried her and brought these two back for you.”

  Ailsa stepped back, hands fluttering up as if in self defence.

  “I cannot! They must not trust mankind. ‘Twould be better they’d died along with their mother.”

  “What nonsense is this?” he asked, glowering. “At least they will enjoy a life if you and I raise them. There is no rule that decrees they have to return to the wild. We cannot second-guess the future, my love; that is for the gods to determine and for us to discover. No, I am certain Thor sent these two youngsters for us to rear. I intend to accept his blessing and raise them with or without your help.”

  He drew the pups back into the warmth of his chest and watched as she struggled to process his words. Finally, she nodded, coming forward to peek at the tiny grey scraps. She extended a finger. One of them latched on to it, suckling madly. Her lips curved into a smile of delight.

  “They are hungry. I have goat’s milk. Shadow thrived on that, although he was older than these two tiny babes.”

  Pleased by her agreement, he suggested that she fetch the milk while he settled himself beside the fire to cradle his mewling pups.

  “Sjaldan er ein baran stok,” he said.

  Ailsa frowned thoughtfully. “There is seldom a single wave,” she translated.

  “Correct!” He nodded, delighted by her understanding. Explaining that he had once thought the saying pertained only to battle, but now saw that it also applied to life in general.

  She tilted her head thoughtfully. They were silent for a while, and then he asked what they should name the cubs.

  “Shadow and Mani?” she suggested.

  He shook his head. “No, they are each entitled to their own names.” Turning each small whelp over in order to sex them, he informed her, “I suspect we have two males but I cannot be certain at this age, it is impossible to tell.”

  She came and took one from him. Using the twisted end of a rag, she dipped it into a bowl of milk, offering it to the cub to suck. It took patience, but she persevered, and soon the pup had the way of it, suckling from the scrap of cloth.

  “Very soon they will learn to lap and it will become easier on us,” she explained.

  They swapped cubs, and she taught the second pup how to use the milk drenched cloth.

  “What about Olaf and Olle? Both names mean descendant. Rather appropriate, don’t you think?” she suggested, watching the darker cub curl up on his lap.

  “You are Olaf,” he decreed.

  Thorolf smiled as Ailsa lifted the other cub to her lips and kissed its tiny head.

  “Hello, Olle,” she whispered.

  They were both surprised at how quickly the youngsters grew. One or either of them found themselves trailed by a pup wherever they went. Thorolf was proud of his Viking comrades, for they welcomed the wolf cubs into their midst. The Norsemen’s easy acceptance of the wolves helped to dispel the rest of the tribe’s suspicions of these beautiful, intelligent creatures.

  As they grew, Thorolf built them a sturdy, waterproof kennel outside their home, and unless the weather was inclement, they slept out there.

  One night, he was happily ploughing his wife when he noticed her wince as he suckled her nipple. Afterwards, he asked if all was well; Ailsa confessed she thought she might be with child. Thorolf was overjoyed when it proved to be the case. As her stomach swelled, so did his pride in her.

  The jarl had made a good decision accepting Eithne’s offer on the beach those many months ago. The gods had directed them well to this place. They were blessed. He was blessed—and with a woman he loved beyond all expectation.

  His wife, his little cat…Ailsa, his soulmate.

  Epilogue

  Ailsa was beyond grateful her husband had returned to her unscathed after the battle. Yet, her heart ached for Alarik and his family who did not yet know that he was gone. Thorolf assured her the funeral would be a celebration of the fact that Alarik had died as he would have wished, a warrior’s death and a hero in battle.

  Apparently he would be welcomed into the halls of Valhalla by Odin. Even now, he would be drinking with the bravest and the best of warriors who resided there.

  It was a nice thought and one she decided to focus on. He’d died giving his life to protect them all, and she for one would be forever grateful to the large Viking with his kind and brave heart. It still amazed her that Alarik had been their only casualty. Ailsa recognised the hours of practice these Vikings spent training and how it helped them triumph over their less-skilled foes.

  With the enemies vanquished, their village was secure. She felt light-headed with relief. Their child could now be raised in safety.

  “Come, it is time.” Thorolf stuck his head inside the door and proffered his hand.

  They stepped outside into the half light of the gloaming. He turned and studied her.

  “You look beautiful, Cat,” he told her.

  Ailsa’s heart swelled with pride. She had taken great care over her appearance in order to honour Alarik, and to please Thorolf.

  “You look very handsome, my husband.”

  He did appear quite magnificent. His dark-blond hair had been braided with small stones, three smaller plaits woven into his long beard were decorated with quartz and his cloak had been made from the finest wool. Pinned to his shoulder was a gold disc, a cloak pin, carved with the powerful symbol of the triquetra.

  He held out a small package of folded cloth. “A gift for my esteemed wife.”

  Taking the package from him eagerly, she unfolded the material and gasped with delight. A circular, golden brooch, the centre carved into the intricate design of a tree with roots, lay in her palm.

  “It is beautiful. Thank you, husband.”

  She reached up to kiss him, and as she did, he leant down to meet her lips. Breaking the kiss, he took the brooch from her hand and pinned it onto her dress at her shoulder.

  “It is Yggdrasil, the tree of life. This is an important element of my faith. Yggdrasil is the great tree that connects the nine realms of the universe, Asgard, Midgard, Muspelheim, Jotunheim, Vanaheim, Niflheim, Alfheim, Svartalfheim, and Helheim. I give this token of protection
as a mark of love for you, my sweet cat.”

  He brushed her lips with his again and guided her forward to join the throng of people making their way down to the shoreline.

  Younger men lit the path to the beach with flaming torches, their yellow glow casting golden shadows across their features. Reaching the water’s edge, Ailsa spotted her sister standing next to her husband, Garth. They moved to greet them. Ailsa was pleased to see the love shining from Garth’s eyes as he looked down into Ytha’s upturned face. All talk of setting her aside long past. Their relationship was now as solid as hers was with Thorolf.

  Ytha broke off her conversation with her husband when they approached. She hugged Ailsa who returned her affection with a gentle squeeze, placing her hand on her sister’s swelling belly. Ytha’s time drew nearer while Ailsa hardly showed that she was with child. Worried for them both, Ailsa knew childbirth was risky.

  “Come, Thorolf, it is time,” Garth said.

  Both men moved away from them, joining the other Vikings moving down to where a smaller longboat was tethered upon the shore. Inside the boat was Alarik. He had been dressed in his warrior clothing, a newly made shield, and sword placed upon his chest with his hand resting on the hilt, for no Viking could enter the hallowed halls of Valhalla without a sword in his hand. His actual sword would be returned to his family, for his son. All day the elder women of the village had spent time preparing him, washing him and brushing out his long beard, then braiding his hair.

  Ytha and Ailsa huddled together and watched their men divide into two lines of four and stand on either side of the boat. Silence fell, and Brandr began the intonation. Ailsa recognised the same words that Thorolf had spoken over Shadow.

  Life ebbs, the spirit moves on, let the Valkyrie come.

  The might was his, blade and shining sword,

  Courage to the earth they felled.