Chapter Text
Larry got a new job as a night guard to the American Museum of National History in New York. He thought it'd be pretty easy (he had hoped because of his recent history of jobs), until he met the residents of the museum.
Every corner he turned, there was more trouble. Language barriers, chaotic dinosaurs and monkeys, angry residents; everything was alive and it seemed everyone was going crazy in their own little worlds.
He had just escaped some Huns before running into you.
You grinned down at him, excited to meet a new face. You stood tall in your shining armour that you took such good care of, one gloved hand holding a polearm, while the other rested near your hip. Your helmet covered most of your face except for your eyes and current smile, and some of your hair could be seen peeking past the confines of the metal. (imagine her with your hair length, I won't mention the length much after this.)
"Young Night Gaurd! Gaman at hitta þik." You gave a bow.
"I..what? Hello?" Larry paused, not looking so frantic now that confusion took over instead.
"Gaman at hitta þik! Ek, mm..." You searched for words that would make sense to him, other than Norse. Hm, you did read a lot of Shakespearean poems while in the last museum you resided! It had been a while since you both spoke and read it, since you never liked the past night guards and only ever talked to Jedediah, Octavious, and sometimes sir Teddy. You cleared your throat.
"Ek crave thy pardon, ek speak...the Norse tongue."
"Oh." He raised his eyebrows. "H-How are you speaking better English now?"
"From verse ek...I have gleaned wisdom, dear night guard." You explained, a smile spreading across your face again now that there was understanding.
"Didn't know there were poems in this museum too." He muttered, looking around, maybe to find them.
"I did procure these verses from the last museum wherein I did dwell."
"Oh, right. Well, sorry to leave so soon but I uh...I got some problems to fix." He said. He seemed awkward, you observed, but quite friendly, and at least he tried to communicate with you.
Larry began to rush past you, making you frown. You reached a hand out towards his direction. "But halt! Wouldst thou not have my safeguard?"
"Your what?" He turned back. "Oh, guard me? I'm alright, thanks though!" He nodded, before running off.
You sighed. "þat þykkir hann eigi vilja mína hjálp..." You muttered to yourself, before straightening and going back to your rounds through the museum halls. You were a knight, after all, it was your duty to protect.
- Translations:
Gaman at hitta þik - Nice to meet you.
Ek - I
þat þykkir hann eigi vilja mína hjálp - It seems he does not want my help