Chapter 2

Tranum woke the next morning as gray dawn light filled up the real glass window in the chamber where he had slept in solitude for the first night of his life. He was not at all certain that he liked the arrangement of separate sleeping quarters. It was too silent and lonely. There was no fire-pit in his room either. It could be cold in the winter.

He looked cautiously over the edge of the high bed and was reassured to see that Leg-Biter was precisely where he had left it when he had collapsed on his pallet on the evening just past, and fallen into dreamless slumber.

His Valkyrie was proven correct in her words. A deep sleep had restored both his wits and his vigor. He was now prepared to rise and explore the wonders of Valhalla. Tranum threw back the strange, not woolen blankets from his even stranger bed and rolled onto his feet. The bedding smelled better than the hudfat animal-skin bag-- that doubled as a daytime storage sack-- he had shared with Olaf the night before this one.

Tranum frowned. Many things about the previous evening were confusing to him, but he did not think that his memory or understanding had been damaged by drowning. Valhalla was very different than he had expected it to be. For one thing, he had always envisioned there being snow in Asgard.

Tranum walked over to the unusual chair where his leggings were drying and stared down at the sodden, sandy mess. Linden would have a difficult time repairing them. It might be better if he just made new ones. He would go hunting that evening for stag or seal if she did not have any heavy wool.

Thinking of Linden brought to mind the obvious fact that she was not in this room. His Valkyrie had brought him to this chamber that belonged to her brother, Rolf Kirstensen, and then left him without assisting him to undress.

Tranum frowned, remembering. She had gently lowered him into the same Loki chair where his leggings were drying, and then grabbed him when it tried to tip over backwards and spill him onto the floor. Tranum had wanted to beat the chair but Linden had stilled his hands by murmuring soothing words and patting them softly. He had soon recalled that it was jarl Kirstensen's chair and that he should not damage it without permission.

After she had seen that he was wise to the chair's trickery and no longer enraged, she had released his arm and then gone into the tall wooden chest and taken out some light colored trews she had called pajamas.

At his puzzled question about their purpose, she had sighed impatiently and told him that he need not wear them if he did not want to.

Linden sighed a great deal. Tranum suspected that she was not one of Odin's more obedient servants. Her beauty probably saved her from the usual punishment for temperamental females and she had grown headstrong under her brother's careless affections.

Tranum turned and reached for the pajamas he had left on the foot of the bed and tried to decide which way the split seam went. He had not worn the trews the night before, preferring to keep any vermin that survived the ocean from burrowing into the painfully clean clothing that belonged to his Valkyrie's brother, but realizing his own extreme cleanliness, he deigned to put them on before leaving his sleeping chamber to seek out the food he could smell cooking on the cool morning air.

He found himself hesitating at donning Leg-Biter and was surprised at this indecision. It had never before occurred to him to leave off his weapon when in a strange place, but he had noticed the evening before that no one else carried weapons of any kind, and it seemed wrong to wear steel in his new home when there were no warriors to fight.

In the end habit prevailed. He decided to take his weapon with him. There was something very strange about this place. It was definitely not the Asgard his grandfather spoke of and it made Tranum somewhat suspicious of what else he might find waiting for him beyond the door. If no one else in the house dined with their weapons then he would return Leg-Biter to Rolf's room.

Tranum paused long enough at the amazing window to lift the sheer, silky material aside and look out at the misty world beyond the magic glass that had been created without any of the human imperfections that marred the panes in the Christian kirke in Svenborg.

He could see little of the beach where he had washed up the night before, just the path of burned out torches that led by some large stones decorated with vivid gold lichen and blackened seaweed. The boulders reminded him of some of the grand and wild stretches of Jutland's coastline.

Like Jutland, there were large, sharp rocks left on the rough shore where giants had thrown them ages ago, and as the softly rippling grasses of the sands showed, the prevailing wind here was also from the west; but that was where the similarities ended.

Jutland was a mass of crags and deeply grottoed cliffs constantly battered by hostile gales from a cold sea. Here the waters were calm and warm and the winds were mild.

All in all, he preferred the beach at Valhalla, he decided, turning away from the magic window and taking another deep breath of the fragrant air. He preferred the food, too.

It was easy to follow the delicious smells to the magically lighted but fireless kitchen where Linden and the short servant with red hair, who could not possibly be a Valkyrie, were preparing the morning meal. This room, like Rolf's, was painfully clean and shining. No dirt on the floor; no smoke in the air.

Linden looked up as he stepped into the kitchen and then clapped a hand to her forehead like she had received a blow. The little red hair looked up from her bread dough and then giggled at the sight of him. Her brown eyes were bold as they studied him.

"Tranum." Linden sighed and lowered her hand. She looked both exasperated and amused. Her curved lips were pretty but he did not care to be the object of her amusement.

He frowned at her. "I have worn the trews you gave me," he complained. "Why does she laugh?"

His Valkyrie reached for a cloth to wipe her hands and then came around from the heavy table where she was working. This morning she was dressed in very tight trews of a dark blue color and a short, red tunic. There were bulky, laced shoes on her feet.

"You have them on the wrong way around. Come on." She reached out a hand and took hold of his arm. She had done that the night before also. He had needed the guidance on the evening past, but he did not need it now.

"No," he said firmly and gently removed her hand.

His little Valkyrie blinked her eyes twice as though completely shocked by his refusal to move at her urging. This confirmed his suspicion that she was accustomed to having her own way.

If Linden had been given to him as his servant or even as his concubine, she would have to learn to be more accommodating to his will.

"Tranum," she seemed to hunt for words. She had obviously forgotten her Danish since coming to Valhalla, but he would be patient while she relearned her native tongue.

"How do you feel this morning?" she finally asked. The little red hair giggled again and his Valkyrie turned head and said something in an exasperated tone. The giggling stopped but not the smiles.

"Hungry. How else should I feel?"

Linden stared at him in consternation.

"I thought perhaps you were... ill and that was why you left the room without your clothes in order."

"I am not ill. And I have no clothes," he reminded her. The Valkyrie blushed. It was fascinating to watch the pink color travel through her golden skin. He did not understand what the blush was for. Was she angry, or embarrassed?

"Yes. I am sorry about your clothes. We'll get you some new ones later. There are some of Rolf's things in the bedroom. If you will come with me, I'll show you where they are." She gestured back down the hall but she did not try and touch him again.

Satisfied that he had made his point about who was the master in their relationship, Tranum said kindly: "You may touch me now, if you wish."

His Valkyrie did not touch him. She pretty face was wearing the same expression he had seen several times the night before. It was a mixture of worry, confusion and some annoyance.

"Rolf, you're a dead man."

She had said these words last night. They sounded like a curse.

"What are these words you say? Why are you speaking to Rolf?" he demanded suspiciously. He had no liking for magical conjuring.

Linden blinked up at him again, and this time there was no confusing her expression. She was definitely angry.

"I'm warning my bother that I am angered with him and that he should return home soon so that he can screw himse--"

"Linden!" The red hair gasped and then said something else in another tongue.

His Valkyrie closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Tranum, please come with me. I will give you some clothes and then feed you some breakfast. And then after that you can go and play on the beach with the other children."

"You will speak Danish to me. I do not understand the Englander tongue."

"Then you had better start learning." Linden marched past him and down the dark hall. "Hurry up, please. I have other guests that need their breakfast. And you can leave your Leg- Biter in the bedroom, okay?"

"Other guests?" Tranum followed quickly. Was Linden not to be his after all? He did not care for this new idea of sharing her with other men. He had been too tired and confused last night to give the matter much consideration-- and certainly too exhausted to have actually bedded her; but every warrior in Valhalla had a woman to care for him and to warm his pallet! Why would Linden have come to the beach and greeted him if she was not to be his?

But then there were several strange things about Valhalla that he did not understand. So far, he hadn't recognized a single person here, not even Selig. And where was Odin and all his warriors? Was this why he was to build a ship? So that he might continue on his journey to Odin? Was this Club Valhalla a resting place for warriors that had died far from home, a place where they built the necessary longboats to resume their journey to the true Asgard?

Tranum stepped into Rolf's sleeping chamber prepared to demand some answers from his haughty Valkyrie. And then he looked up and promptly forgot what he was going to ask. For the first time he noticed the many small sailing vessels that were displayed on the shelves above the bed where he had slept. Many were of strange designs but several of the ships were very familiar to him.

"Forbloffende!"

His Valkyrie looked up from the big chest where she was collecting clothes and then followed his pointing finger. Her tight lips relaxed into their usual gentle smile as she looked at the tiny boats.

"They are Rolf's models."

"Models?"

"Little ships." She came closer and held out some more strange clothing. "They are for practice before he makes a big one. That one on the top? That is the one that you are going to build."

"I am?" he accepted the offered clothing reluctantly. It felt soft and was made of many interesting colors of cloth, but it was still very strange to wear someone else's clothing. To be beholden. He hoped that he would get his own clothes soon.

"With Rolf," she assured him. "You will build it together. Tabby and Petr will help you."

"Rolf built all these ships for people? There are so many kinds!"

"Yes, he... thought of the shape... Um-- designed them. That's what he does."

"Where is Rolf? I wish to speak with him," Tranum demanded, more amazed than ever. It was time that he began to get some answers. Rolf must be making ships for people from every land in the world! Did warriors in other lands also go to Valhalla, too? "Why is he not here to greet me?"

"Rolf is in Humboldt. He's getting the wood for the ship. It is difficult to find a piece long enough for the... um..." She turned and pointed toward the keel. "For the bottom."

"And they have big trees in Humboldt?"

She nodded and smiled. "Very, very big trees. The tallest in the world. Redwoods."

"Redwoods."

"Yes. Rod, red. Skov, wood."

"Not oak or beech? A keel is always made of oak."

"They are not big enough. The trees we have left are too young."

"No oak for the ships? But the other wood is not hard enough," he objected.

"Tranum," she sighed. "I have already heard Rolf complain about this. There just isn't any oak that is long enough. The black oaks do not get that big. It has to be redwood or a laminate."

"Laminate?"

"Small pieces glued together," she explained.

"That is not good. In the water--"

"I know. That's why it has to be redwood."

"No oak in Valhalla?" he asked again in disbelief. This was shocking news. Could this truly be the place where Vikings were supposed to go? It seemed less and less likely. And now he was supposed to build a ship without the proper wood. He would say a prayer to Thor that this Rolf Kirstensen knew about building ocean going longboats.

"None. It all grows inland, far away." His Valkyrie started for the door. "Come to the dining room when you are dressed and I will see that you have some food."

"Wait, Linden Kirstensen!" he ordered. The matter of this red wood could wait until later, but they had not yet settled who it was that she served. If it was not Tranum who was to be her master, then he was willing to fight whoever was chosen in order to have her for his own. He would not share.

"Who is your master?" he demanded.

"Master? I do not know this word." She turned back at the door and stared at him intently. "I do not care for the... the sound that this word has."

"You do not know who is your master?" Tranum was astounded. "But who protects you?"

"My brother and I protect each other," she answered at last. "And I can protect myself."

His little Valkyrie marched away before he could answer her, and Tranum was again in the strange and unique position of being all alone in a room. He decided that he would get dressed in his borrowed clothes. At least now he knew that the opening in the trews faced front.

What on earth was she going to do with Rolf's guest? she wondered. Linden had hoped that a nights rest would restore the Dane to something approaching normal behavior but he still seemed-- Seemed what? Other-worldly? Alien?

Well, why not? He was an alien. Maybe he came from a really tiny and remote village that didn't have television and still lived under feudal law that had protectors for their females. Just because she's never heard of any place like that in Denmark didn't mean that one couldn't exist.

Linden pulled her hair back in a habitual gesture of agitation. She would like to think that this was all a joke that Tranum and her brother had cooked up between themselves, an elaborate plot to tease Rolf's serious sister; but the long-haired Dane with his over-sized mustache, looked entirely too sincere and realistic standing there in Rolf's pajama bottoms and his stained leather sword-harness criss- crossing that tanned and battered chest. That Leg-Biter and his amulet looked-- seemed-- He just felt real.

Linden sighed and then shoved thoughts of Tranum aside, and concentrated on getting breakfast to the long, communal table where the inn's guests dined family-style at breakfast.

They would all be leaving this morning and there wouldn't be anyone new arriving until next Friday, when a trio of Linguistic professors would descend on them for their last advertised Mead Feed. Rolf and Petr were planning on dressing up like a pair of skalds in rough woven capes of goat wool that Linden had made on the inn's warp weighted loom, and reciting some epic poetry in Danish for their distinguished guests.

After that, Rolf hoped to close down the inn and take a month off while the good weather held, and get the majority of the hard work done on the longboat as well as repair the crumbling jetty.

Tranum was supposed to supervise the construction and do the ornamental carving on the prow of the ship. Maybe that was why he was having fits about the redwood. Perhaps it didn't carve well.

They would need to close down, now that Tranum had arrived early. It wasn't fair to keep him waiting for weeks on end while they played around with being inn-keepers. Linden just hoped that finances would take being shut down for a month. Winter was a slow time anyway, and to give up a whole month of their early fall seemed so wasteful no matter how pleasant it would be to have a break from the routine.

It was especially wasteful now that they were going to have some extra expenses. In good conscience, they had to replace at least some of Tranum's wardrobe that had ended up in the sea. And if there were charges for a new passport or the cost of replacing his lost plans or his ticket or tools-- Tools! Surely he hadn't brought a lot of tools with him!

The smell of orange muffins tickled Linden's nose reminding her that part of the breakfast pastry was still in the oven and probably burning while she pulled another worrying over the fate of the universe stunt.

One crisis at a time; that was her new motto. She would get their guests fed and on the road. Petr would take the Wests in the van and get them to the airport for their ten o'clock flight home. Tabby would begin the breakfast clean-up while Linden took Tranum to the small out-let mall and got him some new clothes to wear. Changing the bed-linens could wait until tomorrow, if need be; finding clothes for Tranum would not. Rolf was leaner than the Dane and his clothes were close to indecent on that muscled frame, as Tabby had pointed out with such obvious admiration this morning.

That was it. She had a plan, she could stop worrying. Rolf would be home soon and then Tranum wouldn't be her problem any more.

At least, she hoped not. The nagging voice inside her head was warning her that it might not be that easy to foist off the visiting Dane onto her brother's less than responsible shoulders; for in his own way, Rolf was something of a moral idiot-savant. He might not understand that having brought the Dane here, it was his duty to act as guide for Tranum. Rolf could very well decide that his sister was the perfect person to provide their guest with off-hours entertainment while he pursued-- whatever it was he did on his computer.

This thought made Linden very uneasy.

Tranum again enjoyed his meal at Valhalla, even if the people at the table did not speak Danish and smelled a little strange. It was not a bad smell. He was prepared for it because his Valkyrie carried the same fruit and flower scent around her body, too, and on her it was most attractive.

He sat happily stuffing himself on the delicate breads and the smoky meats, and then finally remembered to compliment his Valkyrie's cooking by belching loudly at the end of his meal.

The other guests stared at him in sudden silence until the little girl had begun laughing. Then Tranum laughed, too, and that made the everyone smile and begin talking again. Nobody else belched.

The Americans, he concluded, had very bad manners. He wondered which of the strange ships Rolf was building for them and when they would leave.

His Valkyrie stayed close by him during the meal, either because of a desire for his company or out of her inexplicable, over-grown protectiveness. She did not stand over anyone else, so her actions were quite obvious to everyone at the table and made some of the women smile.

It was a foreign notion to contemplate, this idea that his Valkyrie might think that he was still so confused that he needed protection from the weak men that sat at the table. He would have been insulted by the suggestion, except he knew that sometimes women could not keep themselves from worrying and it made them do strange things.

He considered reprimanding her after the meal but there would be time enough to cure her of needless fussing if-- when he found out that she was his to command.

But for now it was pleasant to walk along the side of a wide road paved with a black tar in his borrowed but comfortable shoes, and listen to Linden tell him about the different plants and birds that lived in Valhalla as they walked to the market called outletmall.

They were not taking the car, which was some sort of sledge or wagon used for transportation, because it was a great day for a walk and because the man, Petr, was using it to take the Wests away. The Wests were not going home in one of Rolf's boats; Linden had told him this. None of the guests were being gifted with Rolf's boats.

This pleased Tranum. He had not thought that any of the people at the longhouse were traveling to Odin's hall.

They were strolling under some pungent trees that Linden called Eucalyptus. The towering giants crowded the amazingly smooth road on both sides. It was unfortunate that their wood was not good for ships, because they were long enough for any keel he could imagine.

Tranum took another breath of the strange air deep into his lungs, savoring the clean smell that rose from the tangle of fallen bark and leaves that reminded him of the forests near home. He had often walked among the beachwood and elm in late summer, watching the heat-haze drifting like thin smoke over the heaps of drying leaves that gathered at the banks of the springs that gushed from the small heathes and hummocks of grandfather's old wood... The wood that now belonged to Valdemar.

Tranum grunted and then pushed the unpleasant thought away. The wood was no longer his concern. It was better to enjoy the warm sun that had burned through the morning mist and to watch his pretty Valkyrie as she walked slightly ahead of him, sometimes chattering in her Danish-English and sometimes being silent as she studied the many strange birds along the road.

He did not approve of women wearing men's garb but it was enjoyable to watch her legs and bottom as she swayed back and forth along the road. Her hair was also beautiful. She did not bind it and the sunshine sparkled on it's long waves, and made it seem like it was spun of gold and bronze threads.

She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He wanted her very much now that he was rested, but he would wait until Rolf returned from Humboldt with the red wood for their boat. Linden's brother would be able to tell him if she was meant to be his and his alone.

Linden paused at a crossroads and reached out an absent hand to catch his wrist. "Careful. Watch for traffic."

Tranum stopped to look around for whatever traffic they might see. It was astonishing. He had been expecting some animal or bird, but rolling down the hill at them were two huge, enclosed wagons painted in bright colors; one shining red and one a glittering green. There were people riding inside of them, too, who waved at him and Linden as they rolled quickly past on their fat, black wheels. Clearly there was magic at work here in Valhalla.

"Er det...?"

"What?"

"That was a car?" he guessed.

"Oh, Tranum." A sigh. "Yes, that was a car. Two cars."

"They are loud and smelly."

His Valkyrie stared at him and then laughed a bit hysterically. She tugged on his hand like he was a recalcitrant child that refused to cross the road.

"Come on. We're almost there. You said that you did not like large cities. I am afraid that this town is a little bit large. But it will be a... an adventure." Linden selected some very odd words. He did not understand her unamused laughter either.

"An adventure? Then why did we not bring Leg-Biter?"

"Not a battle. An adventure." She sighed again and tried to pull her hand free of his grasp. He did not let go. "Don't you ever just relax and... play?"

"Like a child? Certainly not. I am a man. I do not play."

"What a shame. I rather like to play." She tugged again. "Tranum?"

"Yes?"

"You are holding my hand."

"Yes," he agreed.

"May I have it back now?" This was said with the over-done patience of a mother for a child. It might be time for another small lesson.

"No," he said.

No. He had said no. It was distinct. She had heard him plainly.

Linden opened her mouth to demand that he release her immediately, but then heard something else entirely rolling off her disobedient tongue. "Why not?"

"I am frightened like a lost baby. You wish to protect me, do you not? To hold my hand?"

Linden looked up at Tranum's pale eyes. He didn't look frightened. He didn't sound frightened either. Yet he had reacted so oddly to the automobiles that she had thought...

"Are you... teasing me?" she asked suspiciously as he started across the empty street, dragging her along.

"Yes. You are quite silly when you keep taking my hand and trying to save me from danger. I did not die a bad death yesterday. Now nothing can harm me."

She couldn't believe her ears! Of all the ridiculous things this man had said, this was the most... Nothing can harm him! A fat lot he knew. Just because he had survived flying-- And as for her being silly about trying to save him!

And yet, wasn't that just exactly what she had been doing? She had been treating this man like a child or a-- why was she having such a hard time finding the right words?-- like an innocent. A babe in the woods. If their positions were reversed and Tranum was playing watch-dog and warden, and she was in the role of child, she would-- did-- feel insulted, too.

"I'm sorry, Tranum." She stopped at the edge of the mall parking lot and turned to face her guest. She stopped pulling against her manacle. "I didn't mean to be-- too protective. It is just that last night you were exhausted from travel-- and in a strange land with a strange language. I don't like flying either and I know-- Tranum?"

Her Dane wasn't listening to her. He wasn't even looking at her any more. Linden turned around to see what had captured his attention.

It was just the mall parking lot. There were several cars and some people walking about, including an young woman with a poodle that had been dyed an interesting shade of mauve; but there was no fist-fight, no nude sun bathers, nothing that should be riveting her guest's pale eyes and causing his jaw to drop-- especially when she was offering something as rare as an apology.

"Tranum!" she said in exasperation. Eyes the color of new green returned to her face. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes, Linden, I hear you. Is that outletmall?" There was wonder in his voice.

"That is outletmall," she agreed abandoning her apology. There was no point in saying sorry if she was going to do the same thing over again. And she was going to; that was apparent. It didn't matter that he was strong as an ox; the man was floored by a small shopping mall, amazed by American automobiles, stunned by the sight of a mauve poodle. He needed a keeper-- She was duly appointed until Rolf got home.

Very well. Linden was not one to shirk her duty. She would take her brawny innocent into the first store that sold men's clothes, buy him some pants and a sweatshirt or two, maybe treat him to lunch at a McDonald's, get him some postcards to send to the folks back home, and then she would take the blond innocent back to the inn and lock him in Rolf's bedroom with some books about sailboats where he would be safe until dinner time.

And maybe, if she wasn't busy, she would stay there with him for a little while and let him hold her hand.

Club Valhalla

Copyrighted (c) 2002 Melanie Jackson

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