FANTASY | FICTION | VIKINGS | STORMBORN
Return of the Champion
Stormborn — The Legend of the Storm Maiden, Chapter 4
Balder stood at his longship’s bow, taking in the magnificent view of the fjord as he led his fleet of ships to the harbour. With one foot up on a colossal chest and his back straight, he looked like he had jumped from an artist’s depiction of a model explorer.
“They are cheering for you, boy!” a grizzled warrior beside him said.
The jarl’s son smiled at the greying warrior and raised an eyebrow. Although Balder, undefeated in battle since reaching adulthood, towered over all the other warriors of Stolthavn, Stein had never come around to stop calling him boy. He slapped his hand on the older man’s shoulder, a friendly gesture that forced the grey-bearded warrior to take a sidestep to keep his balance.
“Not just for me,” he roared so the whole crew could hear him, “They are cheering for us!”
His words had an immediate effect. One by one, the warriors banged their weapons against their shields or drummed on the ship’s wood while shouting their leader’s name. Balder smiled proudly and stroked the long, roughly stitched cut along his left cheek.
“Bring me our guest!”
Two of Balder’s warriors dragged a limping young man with a bloodied beard onto the ship’s deck and threw the man at Balder’s feet.
“I said our guest,” Balder said calmly but angrily, “not dog.”
With a massive hand, the jarl’s son grabbed the prisoner by the chain fixed to his shackles and pulled him to his feet. The man struggled, but with his feet and hands chained, it was impossible to resist Balder’s overwhelming strength. Balder nudged the man to the spot at the bug where he had stood before so that everybody could see his prisoner.
As the pier got closer, the longboat crept slowly forward, giving the spectators ample time to realise who was presented to them. Balder watched the prisoner lower his head in resignation when the taunting started. He knew the real humiliation would begin once they disembarked, and it would feel like an eternity to his prisoner.
Balder was the first to set foot on the crowded dock, dragging his prisoner behind him. He was sure that almost all of Stolthavn’s citizens, old and young, had gathered to witness their victorious return. Many had brought gifts, food and mead to welcome Balder and his troops. A slender beauty approached and handed Balder a tankard with a seductive look. The colossal warrior drank it greedily before he flung his arm, holding his prisoner’s chains, around the woman, kissing her passionately.
The warriors started their chorus anew, and when the gathered people joined and shouted Balder’s name, the noise was deafening. Balder enjoyed bathing in the crowd, knowing the skalds would sing of his victorious return for ages. Somewhere in the back of the crowd, he saw a tall, red-bearded man approach.
Balder released the woman from his embrace and lifted a hand. Like an orchestra following the conductor’s lead, the crowd fell silent immediately and opened a path for Balder’s father, Jarl Eirik Gustavsson.
The jarl had replaced his usual stone-faced expression with a faint smile. It was an act, a smile for the crowd. Balder knew that his father’s smiles were so rare he wouldn’t manage one on his son’s day of victory. Nonetheless, he could see the true satisfaction in his father’s eyes. Balder couldn’t stop beaming proudly like a little boy finally winning his father’s approval — a good as rare as the mysterious metal extracted from Stolthavn’s mountains.
Balder jerked at the prisoner’s chain forcefully. Misjudging his strength, he flung the man to Jarl Eirik’s feet. The excitement of the moment drowned the tiny voice of regret in him. His earlier anger at his warriors was temporarily forgotten at the prospect of finally being accepted as an equal and heir to his father.
“Father, I bring you a present,” Balder roared for everyone to hear, “This is Thore Bendikson, son and heir of Jarl Bendik “The Bloody” Bendikson!”
“Thore Bendikson,” Jarl Eirik said softly, “What a pleasure to have you as a guest of honour at our feast.”
Stolthavn’s ruler looked down at the bruised and beaten man lying by his feet while the crowd laughed and cheered. Some people taunted the prisoner, and a dirty man in fisher’s garb spit on the heir of the jarl of Karlskoga. Seeing the humiliation in Thore’s eyes, Balder stepped forward and pushed the fisher into the harbour’s icy water. Shocked, the crowd fell silent, and Balder pulled the prisoner to his feet.
He saw a hint of disapproval on his father’s face before the jarl signalled two armoured men to escort the prisoner away. Jarl Eirik stepped next to his son while the crowd stared at them in silent anticipation. Then he took his son’s hand and held it high.
“Balder, Stolthavn’s greatest warrior and hero!”
The crowd cheered even more frantically than before, and the jarl waited patiently until the crowd calmed down.
“The Bear of the Icy Belt. Our protector!”
Then, he looked at Balder with a genuine smile and approval, forcing the great warrior’s heart into a wild and excited drum.
“Our champion. My victorious son!”
People streamed closer to Balder and Eirik. All wanted to show affection, slap the victorious warrior on the back, or shake hands. Father and son pushed through the crowd while the rest of Balder’s crew disembarked and reunited with their families.
Balder looked around, searching for someone. Although he towered over everyone, he couldn’t find who he was looking for in the crowd.
“Are you looking for that fair maiden, son? There are so many interested in you now,” the jarl punned.
“No, father,” Balder said, pushing his way through the crowd, “I am searching for Davynn.”
The jarl’s face hardened. Even a blind person couldn’t miss his naturally disappointed, sour-faced expression. He put a hand on his son’s shoulder.
“All sons that matter have gathered here today, Balder.”
Then, his father walked on. Balder searched for his brother with a last sad look before hurrying to catch up with his father. Davynn never saw the expression on his brother’s face, but standing in the crowd behind them, he had heard his father’s cutting words. He pressed his lips to a thin line and glared after the pair before disappearing into the crowd.
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