Chapter Text
Near the port city of...uhh somewhere in Greece, 1019 A.D.
The midday sun hung low but hot above the stone-paved streets, making everything shimmer with a deceptive golden sheen. Greece was loud, colorful, and smelled like olive oil and roasted meat—nothing like Iceland. Which, to be fair, made it a hundred times better in Gudrid’s eyes. No offense to the homeland. I mean, Greenland had —what— 6 people and 3 sheep in total? At least that’s what she thought.
Everyone disembarked the ship, and Karli squealed the moment their feet hit the port's deck. The men got to work unloading the cargo while Gudrid held Karli in her arms. Hild left...somewhere. Karli, practically vibrating with excitement from months of sailing, reached eagerly toward a tree behind her, his eyes locked on the ripe oranges hanging from the branches.
Gudrid turned, her eyes widening as she spotted the fruits. "AH! LEIF! LOOK! THE ORANGES!" she exclaimed, practically lunging forward and grabbing a few, her excitement barely contained. She handed them to Karli, who, of course, was more interested in squishing them than holding them properly. Leif, who had been helping Bug-Eyes along, clearly not understanding the level of enthusiasm, blinked at her.
"I told you Greece was flooded with them, didn’t I?"
Thorfinn shifted the weight of a heavy sack over his shoulder. Inside, wrapped carefully in linen, were the glittering spoils of their latest northern haul: sleek, spiraling narwhal tusks. To any untrained southern eye? Unicorn horns. Magical. Rare. And most importantly expensive.
"Whew! That's the last one!" he said wiping his sweat, "Alright, did you unload the tents-"
Leif waved Thorfinn off with a smug grin, clearly having something up his sleeve. "Oh, don't worry about the tents. I've got it all sorted."
Thorfinn raised an eyebrow, confused. "What do you mean?"
Leif shrugged nonchalantly, like he’d just made the greatest discovery of the century. "You really think I came here unprepared? I've got connections, Thorfinn. Sailors come to Greece to trade all the time. I've got people who know exactly where we can stay." He started walking away, clearly convinced of his own brilliance. "Stay here, everyone. I'll be back with the goods."
* * *
He approached a humble but sturdy-looking stone building-inn nestled between many citrus, olive, fig trees and a lazy donkey. A painted wooden sign swung overhead, squeaking in protest. An old man stood by the doorway, watering a pot of thyme with all the concentration of a man performing surgery. His white tunic was spotted with olive oil, and he smelled faintly of wine and anchovies.
Leif raised a hand in greeting. “Hail, friend! You the innkeeper?”
The old man squinted up at him, shielding his eyes. “…"Εσύ… ξένος; Νορβικός;" (You...foreigner? Norse?)
“Ah.” Leif grinned, already rifling through his mental inventory of universal gestures and broken trade tongue. “Yes. Sai-lor. Trader.” He mimicked steering a boat and pointed to himself. “Leif. I am Leif.”
The old man’s face lit up. “Α, Λειφ! Εσύ είσαι ο Λειφ! Ο ναύτης! Έχω φίλο—Norway! Faroes! Ένας τρελός με κόκκινα μαλλιά και ένα μάτι! You know?” (Ah, Leif! You’re the Leif! The sailor! I have a friend—Norway! Faroes! A madman with red hair and one eye!)
Leif barked a laugh, clapping the man’s shoulder. “Red-haired madman with one eye? I’ve known three of those!”
They both laughed heartily, despite understanding only about 40% of what the other was saying. The innkeeper beamed, wiping his hands on his tunic then shaking Leif's with a big smile on, “Come! Έλα, έλα! Friends? Stay here. Good food. No rats. Maybe only little rats.”
Leif followed him inside, the smell of baked bread and dried herbs hitting him like a fond memory. “You’re a saint, friend. I’ve got a whole crew of strange northerners who will owe you their lives.”
Meanwhile…
The group just beyond the port, still lounging in the shade of the citrus tree while Leif handled “old man business”. Gudrid and Bug-Eyes sat on a crooked wooden bench, peeling oranges and watching people pass by with the sharp eyes of troublemakers on holiday.
“Oh God, look at that man’s walk,” Gudrid whispered, nearly choking on her laughter. “He’s walking like the wind slapped him mid-thigh.”
Bug-Eyes squinted. “No, no, he’s walking like he sat on a hedgehog and tried to play it cool.” They both exploded into laughter, Gudrid wheezing as she accidentally flicked an orange peel into Bug-Eyes’ eye.
“GAH—WOMAN!” he shrieked, dramatically falling backwards off the bench. “I’M BLINDED!” Gudrid leaned over him, clutching her stomach.
“Oh nooo, quick, someone get the unicorn horn! Maybe it heals wounds!”
Thorfinn, a few feet away, watched them with the deadpan calm of a man used to nonsense. Karli was curled in his arms, sucking at a slice of orange and gazing at the sky. Karli’s Mama trotted along behind them, sniffing at market stalls and occasionally barking at pigeons like she had a personal vendetta. Einar also looked at them, almost the same way Thorfinn did, only except he wasn’t used to it.
“My God, they’re awake again..” he sighed.
Thorfinn gave the smallest smile. “Keeps us alive at least.”
The sail to Greece had been a struggle, the heat, the anticipation of wanting to start trading, the wish of touching land again…it had become an annoyance to them, but it seemed that Gudrid’s and Bug-Eyes’ fun nature eased the situation in some way.
“Einar! If I perish in this foreign land, tell my story. Tell them I fell in battle….”
“…against a citrus,” Einar added with a smile
Gudrid leaned dramatically over her knees. “Don’t worry, I’ll commission a gravestone. It’ll say, ‘Here lies Bug-Eyes. Slain by orange.’” They chuckled at that one.
“Very noble.” said Einar with a slight bow
Karli babbled something unintelligible, which Thorfinn nodded solemnly at, as if it were a profound commentary on mortality.
“See?” Gudrid pointed. “Even Karli gets it.”
Meanwhile.....
Leif was negotiating with intense hand gestures and the occasional sketch drawn in the dirt with a stick. The innkeeper, now named Yannis (probably), nodded enthusiastically.
“Six people, one baby, one dog, and one… woman with a crossbow?” Yannis raised a brow.
Leif winced slightly. “Yes. That’s Hild. She’s… somewhere.” He made a vague circular motion in the air. “She comes and goes. Just try not to talk to her. Could kill us any moment.”
Yannis cackled. “Like my ex-wife!” They laughed out loud and slapped each other’s backs with a wheeze that shared understanding that crossed nations.
MEANWHILE......AGAIN
“Hey,” Gudrid said suddenly, nudging Thorfinn’s arm. He crouched, brows lifted.
She pointed at some dude who couldn't walk straight ahead probably from drinking too much. “That guy looks exactly like you if you forgot how to fight and became a drunk.”
Thorfinn looked at her in confusion, looked at the random man and turned at her again. “…You cannot be THIS bored.”
“C’mon! Have fun! He does, look! he even has a big butt!” she whispered in his ear
“Gudrid!”
Einar came over, lips twitching. “You sure you didn’t leave a drunk twin somewhere on the road?”
Thorfinn deadpanned, “That would be Bug-Eyes, Einar.”
Bug-Eyes gasped. “I have a big butt?" tears pricking in his eyes.
* * *
Somewhere, not far off, in the quiet stillness of the hills above the town, Hild crouched in the shade of an olive grove, her tools in her lap, her face a perfect mask of stone. She didn’t even need to be close to hear their laughter. It echoed up to her with that irritating, unmistakable tone.
How can one be this far off and still hear them so clearly? she thought, biting back a growl.
She scanned the area, her eyes narrowing. Did all those months on the ship with a bunch of shouting, bickering fools actually cause me hearing damage? she used her pinky to scratch her ear with an annoyed frown. The thought hung in the air for a moment, but then she sighed, realizing it was more likely the echoes of their obnoxious laughter that were now permanently engraved in her mind. Even out here, surrounded by olive trees, it was like they were right there. The echoes never stopped. Maybe she’d go deaf from it eventually.