Date: Mon, 24 Mar 2003 09:30:09 -0500 From: Tom Cup Subject: Raptors by Richard Dean - Chapter 2 GM - Y/F- A/Y - Historical Copyright 2000, 2001, 2002 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado Corporation. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive, Florissant, CO 80816 This is a fictional story involving alternative sexual relationships. If this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters, locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. ************************************************************************ The Paratwa Partnership, Inc. is a publication and marketing agency and is not responsible for the content of the Tom Cup Library, TomCup.com or its affiliate sites, or stories written by Mr. Cup or his associates. ************************************************************************ The Raptors Part I Chapter 2 -- Departure Day As Arne and his grandfather talked, others of the crew started to arrive, singly, in twos or threes greeting each other with the traditional hand, grasping the upper wrist to indicate there were no tricks up ones' sleeve. The air was filled with the camaraderie of backslapping and light conversation about the expectations of this venture upon which all were eager to embark, however much their nerves were on edge. Within an hour of the rise of dawn, 300 hundred plus; men, young boys, and slaves-- who volunteered to sign on in order to purchase their freedom from their masters--gathered on the shoreline awaiting to be assigned their position and duty aboard each of the bobbing Longships in anticipation to the commencement of their departure. Each attack Longship had a crew chief from which all orders emanated, he in turn selected and assigned the rowers/sail handlers and 2 of the youngest to dispense food, water and the slop bucket when called upon. They would also relieve each rower if they became cramped or disabled for one reason or other. There were usually two supply Longships which stored food stuff, goat skins of water, mead, extra weaponry and empty storage chests to contain the bounty which they would bring back if victory ensured their riches. Some could carry horses and farm animals, tools, building supplies which would be used for those traveling to join with or to establish new settlements thus ensuring continuity of the generations. The supply Longships would also have room for any captive slaves, women and children. Because of their size--length, width and depth--they were not as fleet nor as nimble or able to be beached on the shoreline as were the attack Longships. They were cumbersome, yet could keep up with the smaller faster ships, as their crews were larger which meant greater manpower versus those of the smaller sized Longships. Aboard one of the larger supply ships the Chief of the expedition would oversee all of the ships of his captaincy. From him orders were given and directed to all of the smaller ships or to an individual ship to alter course if schools of fish, dolphin, or whales were spotted. They in turn would cast out nets to gather in all they could, transfer their finds to the mother ship and rejoin their brother ships. Aboard the Mother ship, crews would clean, prepare and distribute the catch to each sistership or precluding that, salt the fish, extract the oils and throw the remains overboard to feed other fish or feeding creatures. Aboard the attack Longships the crew chief would assign a young boy at the bow to keep watch on position within the group, 12 rowers each on the starboard and port side facing the aft end staying alert to any command from the crew chief who also served as helmsman. During the day they sailed by the sun, at night by the stars. Uncannily the Vikings seldom missed their target points on arrival of a landmass. Such were the lessons learned from generation to generation. Ragnar Rasmussen, the crew chief of Longship #1, chose first and wisely. He had taken a year to watch and see how each of his mental selections would turn out. So impressed was he, with the young Arne, that he was his first choice among the many veterans of previous journeys. He had heard neither complaint nor vocalizations about his teacher, Vornni, who was a hard taskmaster yet fair in all of his assignments to the boy. [God, how I hated my teachers. I wanted to shove their ballocks down their throats until they gagged or worse. Nothing I was assigned to do seemed right or properly done....the bastards! Over and over the same damned shit. Wielding the adz, ax or sledge, my arms ached, burned constantly, my back felt like it had torn apart, sweat poring into my eyes, lips chapped, mouth dry and always in the background the yelling, prodding, "are you a dunce, a fool? Can't you do anything the way I tell you?" Damn them, I could have killed them or torn them apart with my bare hands. Somehow I got through it. Arne? He took to those things like a bird to wing and through it all, he was smiling as if it were a pleasure. This young man will be a leader of men amongst men. I can predict that. I would follow him, once he gets a couple of years under his belt. Hahaha, and what he has under his belt? He's got the hammer of Thor to strike fear in every woman and virgin he comes in contact. He'll have many fine sons from his loins, he will. He'll fight like his grandfather, gather wealth like his father, outpass his brothers in deed and daring. I'll not mess about with him. I'll teach him every trick I've learned. Never a son of my own, this damned prick of mine. Why, Odin, why? He'll be a son to me. Look at him, standing there proud and pleased with an easy grin that sways every woman, man and child to stand at his side. He's able, confidant, and smart as a whip. Look at old Vornni, pleased as a peacock, stuggling to strut the walk, accepting the claps of congratulations to his back at the success of Arne being first chosen. Even crippled with tired bones, he will soon have a bevy of youngsters plying him to be their teacher and advisor. Good for you, old man. Good for you.] Ragnar, middle-aged at 29, snapped out of his musings. "All right men, stop the chattering like women at their sewing. You, Torson, you are sailhandler, rower #2, next to Arne. If Arne falls, Odin forbid, you'll step into his place, and all of the other men will fill in from your space on back. The empty space will be filled with novice #1. Listen to me men, hear my words clearly. You, Berndt, stop the yapping. Now!" Ragnar waited until there was absolute quiet, eyes scanning the men from one to the other, itching to fall upon the man who would not listen, and pummel him to the ground for insolence. He was the chief, no one would disobey him. Or he would find out the reason why. "Should I fall for whatever reason, you will all push Arne to take the helm as Chief, if need be. He will ascend to my rank and authority. If any one of the lot of you cannot or will not accept that, then stand back and remain behind....a coward! Very well! Now are there any of you that feel I need to be convinced that I've made a bad decision, stand forward." In nervous confusion, Arne thought: [I am but 13, I haven't the experience or expertise that Ragnar has displayed. I know I've been well taught, but I've never been on a raid. What if I fail? Look at these men, most older, some with as much experience as Ragnar. Have I the will and power to command them? I could bring disgrace and dishonor on my fathers' name. Odin, give me a sign. Ahh, you bring Torson to stand by my side. Yes, we shall depend on or defend each other. ] "Stand against me if you dare. Fight me or fuck me. Your body or mine in death." Ragnar's eyes swept the collective group of men, who were muttering lowly to each other, turning to look to others within the group to see who would offer to refute Ragnar. Ragnar did hear snippets of mutterings: [I know Sven, but look at the successes of Ragnar and even Snorri over there, they were young, but took command and came home victorious with wealth and slaves. I'll not argue the point. Will you?] "Come now, is there not one of you who will challenge my authority? No? Very well, lets get on to the business of assignments." Ragnar walked through the group of men, assigning them positions and number. Torson and Arne stood away after being assigned position and number-standing, glanced along the beach and saw the groups of each of the Longships congregated similarly selecting positions and number of their respective members. Torson spoke to Arne, "I've never had but a few words with you before this, Arne Bjornsson, but I've seen you from afar when visiting this community and when you were racing my young brother, Artur. I've seen you at training and wondered in awe, how you were able to carry two heavy stones up that hill. Once you had them in a pile at the top, you would pick one up and carry it back down only to return up the hill again, until the pile below was once again complete. How you were able to do that without slipping, falling or stumbling leaves me in amazement. Congratulations on your selection as Number One. Ragnar Rasmussen, chose wisely." "Thank you, Torson Hemminge. I remember you well, especially when we met during the sailing race at Halvingtor Fjord. Only because I blocked the wind from Artur's sail was I able to barely win the race. A very lucky break for me." "Luck had nothing to do with it, Arne Bjornsson. Skill and observation won that race for you. Artur still remembers the lesson you taught him." "Please Torson, lets drop the formal tone here and now. We`ll be working and living side by side for a long time. Formality serves no purpose where we'll be going. Agreed?" "I agree, Arne," Torson replied while looking over the width and breadth of his associate. His eyes beheld a mature 13 year old, male, with a golden halo of wheat blonde hair, alert eyes the color of sea blue on a strongly sunlit day, an aquiline nose that accentuated the fully red lipped countenance of the smiling youth's white perfectly formed teeth. Arne would be tall with the lean lithe muscularity of a swimmer. His age of 13, his height and weight indicated he had not finished his ultimate growth spurt The long voyage and difficult chores encountered would soon erase all vestiges of baby fat, if any, that clung to his hormone laden body. Torson's visual sweep of Arne suggested a paean to the pantheon of ideals of maleness incarnate. His closeness to this vision of young manhood created confusing issues which he thought to confront at a later time. He felt warmth and comfort radiating throughout his inner being. [What is this? I feel warm and hot, yet I'm not sweating. I want to touch his face, embrace him, to pull him close to me. How can this be? Am I bewitched? I'm stirred within my vitals. Oh no!. I'm going to die of shame, if others see me in full arousal. What will Arne think of me? Please, please, I beg of you, Odin, sweep me away from here before I lose consciousness. I feel dizzy, my stomach flutters, my heart is beating so loud, I can hear it.] "....at least that's what grandfather told me. Torson? Torson! Are you well? Your face is flushed." "Wha uh what did you say?" [Ohhh, he's been talking to me and I couldn't hear a word he's been saying. What am I going to do?] "I was saying that whether in combat, fight, or a race, if you're able to make the opponent confused for a moment if necessary, you can gain the upper hand in most cases." "Oh yes, umm, yes. I was concentrating on the race between you and Artur and missed most of what you were saying. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to alarm you." [Thank you, Odin. You've given me a moment to gather my senses.] "Certainly. I understand. Would you like to see my weapons and protective leathers, Torson? My leathers are newly made, so over the winter I've been oiling them and polishing them regularly. My weapons are hand-me-downs from my grandfather and father, but still good as new, as I see it." "Good. I suspect we'll be seeing and using them frequently, once we join the advance party." [Odin, once again, you've saved me from his glances at me.] The young men walked from the periphery of the group of men who were talking of old conquests and stories of yore. They advanced upon a grouping of chests which would not only contain their personal items of clothing, small weapons and protective gear, but would serve as their seating within the Longship, while rowing during calms or when the winds were not cooperative to sailing. Sinking to their knees after they found their chests, they opened them and dug through in search of particular items of interest which they felt would be appropriate to share. Touching, feeling, enjoying the heft and strength and workmanship of swords, axes, small knives they became closer in a unifying friendship. Pulling out a rune stone from his chest, Arne said, "Let me share this prize with you. It was given to me by grandfather. Written in archaic Norse it reads in poetic rhyme: "Ranging the seas, oceans by sail, Vikings did come to prize entail, Weapons on high, continue the tale, Of bounty, riches, cloths so pale, Returning victorious, some did fail, Leaving behind widows who did wail, Now in celebration, Valhallas' hail." "Arne, that is truly a treasure. It's a good omen." Coming, Chapter 3, Trials at Sea ************************************************************************ To support this and other stories by the author, become a member at http://www.tomcup.com Send comments to: richard@tomcup.com ************************************************************************