milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

athelstan,
autor

(no subject)

Athelstan steps into the bar today with a bulging pouch slung over his shoulder, heads for a table and starts unpacking it.

He quickly has an odd assortment of items spread on the table, from tree bark to scraps of rough-tanned pale leather, all covered with small cramped writing - mostly done in the best ink he could make, meaning soot mixed with animal fat, with a goose feather pen. There's even a few pieces of wood with the writing scratched directly into them.

He's soon absorbed in sorting them into a logical order, but would be quite willing to be interrupted.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The smile vanishes.

"The attitude to life. There was something Bjorn said as the girl was being sacrificed. I found it hard to watch, and he said 'What's the matter with you? It's only death.' The boy is twelve years old."

"Good heavens, that's awful," Autor says, his eyes widening. "It seems odd to me that they can prize their children, and yet be so dismissive towards life in that manner."

"Perhaps it comes of the way they live. They seem to count death as meaning little, if the man - or woman, I suppose, women must be able to earn Valhalla - has died in a way they consider good."

"Well, that's one way to take fear away from the concept," Autor says, adjusting his glasses. "What are good ways to die, according to them?"

"In battle, for one. It's the best way they know for a man to die, to the point there seems to be some shame in reaching old age. And some of the women choose that path, but for those who don't, I'm told dying in childbed or as a sacrifice guarantees entry to Valhalla."

"Hm! Similar to the Spartans," Autor says, furrowing his brow. "To willingly sacrifice oneself--I can't even imagine it. To whom or what do they sacrifice?"

"To their gods. Thor, Odin, Freyr... they are many. Each person seems to favour one or more, and the sacrifices - not always a person, more often an animal - may be offered to one or to all."

In that case, Autor would be amused to know Thor actually comes here.

"So clearly religion is a large part of their lives, and will be covered, I suspect, in your book," Autor says. "What is their educational system like? Do they have formal schooling, or is everyone taught at home?"

"The parents teach the children what they need to know. Their runes, and to fight for boys and those girls who wish it, and the crafts of the home."

"Runes?" Autor says, tilting his head. "Does everyone learn the crafts of the home? That's a good thing, if so."

"Those they have an inclination to learn", he says with a nod. "It's good for a boy to know how to repair clothes, should he be alone and far from home when they need repair."

"And to cook his own food, lest he not know how to feed himself," Autor supplies. "How are runes important? With language?"

"It's the only written language they have. They use it in their religious rites, but also just to communicate. A stone may be carved with runes and left for whoever comes there next, for example."

"Ah, I see," Autor says, nodding. "I had thought it was something like that, but I couldn't be sure. Do you understand the language now?"

"I learned to speak it before I ever came there, and I'm beginning to read it now."

"Wonderful," Autor says, smiling a little. "Mayhap a primer on their language will be your next book."

Athelstan laughs. "Perhaps it will. But I must finish this one first."

"Yes, of course, and best of luck with the writing of the first one," Autor says cheerfully. "Do know that I'm supporting you in your efforts, and offer my services as far as reading and editing."

"I'll gladly take you up on that, when it's a little further along", he says sincerely. "And I thank you for it. If you can read my scribble, here, feel free."

He only has perfectly legible handwriting when he's trying.

Thankfully, Autor is an expert at deciphering cramped scribble. He reads silently, adjusting his glasses every so often. "I should probably only offer editing commentary when I have the entire manuscript," he starts, "but so far the story of the slave girl is a gripping one."

"My perspective was probably far different from theirs", he says quietly. "She was very young."

"It is truly a tragedy," Autor says, just as quietly. "And you do well to immortalize her."

"It's the least she deserves. I wonder, you see... if she really loved her master so much, or if it was fear, or despair... when I saw her first, they'd given her ale and she was singing, but I saw her face as she went to her death."

"Oh, good heavens," Autor says, shaking his head. "The only one to truly know is her, unfortunately. But you can certainly write those thoughts down in your book."

He nods. "And other people can think on her, too. I may never forget her."