Exton

I lean back against the armrest of the old worn couch and wait till Star gets her head adjusted against my shoulder - and then I begin to talk.

I am no skald, to move men to tears with my songs, nor to stir their hearts to battle; but tonight Bragi has touched my mouth and the words flow, becoming the saga of one man - I, Erik.

I speak of battles fought and wounds given and received; of wenching and carousing; of men I counted as brothers and men whom Wyrd decreed to be forever my enemies. I speak of the heat and the stink of battle, of the cries of the wounded and the dying, of the fierce exultation of surviving one more time. I speak of - I know not what, and in the middle of it I see that my sweet Star has nodded off. I grin ruefully - wonder how long I've been talking to myself? - then I lean my face against the back of the couch and fall into a dreamless sleep.