Wikipedia mentions that, during Viking times, Finns were believed to have powers over the weather, and as a result, were not allowed to go on sea raids.
I'd like one of the other Nordics to attempt to attempt to use these powers to his advantage, by trying to woo Finland. (Please no weepy moeblob) Perhaps some sort of kidnapping is involved, or he is taken prisoner after a raid, or something, and the other Nordic decides to try and get on his good side to give him an unexpected edge in battle. Cue seduction that doesn't quite go as expected.
Bonus: Badass!Finland totally knows what's happening and plays the situation to his own advantage
Re: Any Nordic/Finland - supernatural powers, vikings, kidnapping/seduction
Would OP mind it if it was some sort of viking AU, where Iceland, Norway, Sweden and Denmark were a group with Den as the leader, and he would have them all try it? Including himself?
I have this wild plotbunny jumping around and kicking stuff in my brain and I'm a crazy SuFin fangirl but can't see Sweden trying to seduce someone without being instantly hilarious and I need all the other Nordics too.
Only this part will be in comic form! The rest will be written, I promise! I just... ungh. I'm sorry. I had it all drawn before I knew what I was doing and then I didn't want to throw it away. The edit is really, really bad because I can't edit for shizz, but you can also read the real fill without reading the Prologue--it just repeats what the prompt is about, anyway. I would also like to apologize to a various number of things: Axes, chainmails, furs, clothing in general, puffins, people with hands, people with faces, and every single citizen of the nation of Finland.
Human names (I will use the canon names, but the fanon names for the other nordics are mostly post christian era so I can't use them, even though I love them. Hope that's okay!): Sweden- Berwald; Finland- Tino (yes, I know it's not Finnish, but it's canon); Norway- Leiknir; Iceland- Eirikr; Denmark- Magnus (not sure about that one... suggestions?) [Also, the faces look weird sometimes because they all had beards originally (except for Iceland) and I didn't ink them because I figured that not everyone loves beards as much as I do, but--vikings should have beards. Just saiyin'] Page 1 http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/PAGE1.jpg.html Page 2 http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/PAGE2.jpg.html Page 3 http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/PAGE3.jpg.html Page 4 http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/PAGE4.jpg.html Page 5 http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/PAGE5.jpg.html Page 6 http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/PAGE6.jpg.html Page 7 http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/PAGE7.jpg.html
...and that's it. I apologize profusely for the awfully cliché moment at the end, but I just, uh, had to finish somehow. Also, no, Finland is not a troll in this. I just made a really really really lame pun involving the beautiful band Finntroll and the internet phenomenon of a "troll" and the fact that he's believed to have magical powers. DON'T JUDGE ME.
Re: Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Prologue (COMIC)
omgosh anon, how much work you've put into this, this is incredible!!
I love the faces. :3 and I agree with you in re: beards personally. But! On the upside, not having beards means we get to see Denmark's cleft chin. CLEFT CHIN YES anon it just suits him so well!
idk, I think Magnus is a superb name for Denmark. It makes him even more like the derpy brother of Gaston from Beauty and the Beast in my mind and fits him really well. I can imagine him going around telling everybody and then quickly following up any self-introductions with 'it means great! because I'm great!' Leiknir is a lovely name for a pre-Christian Norway, excellent choice!
This is fabulous work, anon. Would love to see the rest of it :3c
Re: Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Prologue (COMIC)
Wait-what-really? The faces? I was actually unsure if anyone would like them. I have the strong feeling that they all look the same D: And OH GOD YOU NOTICED THE CHIN let me love you forever, dear anon, and thanks! I... I have no idea where that headcanon came from, but it's rooted so deeply I just can't avoid drawing him like that, so thank you.
And I am so using that. And I laughed my ass of at Gaston's derpy brother. Holy crap :D
You will see the rest! The it will be in written form because that is quicker and easier, but I will definitely post more illustrations.
Re: Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Prologue (COMIC)
Aw, why apologize to every single citizen of Finland? I don't see how you'd have offended us.
They should totally have beards! Though, okay, I get why not have them... But still. x) Vikings and beards just go together! But it's fine, I can suspend my disbelief. Oh and I'm glad you realized that it wouldn't make sense for them to have Christian names! I don't know if I'd have even thought of that but it would have been weird anyway.
About trolls: It actually kinda makes sense, considering that the word "troll" used to mean "witch"/"mage" in Old Norse.
I'm really glad to see a viking AU, too. Can't have too many of them. :3
Re: Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Prologue (COMIC)
Because I fear that I have sort of fucked each and every drawing of Finland up. Also, trying to keep him in character Hetalia-verse while unifying that with my headcanons of a totally badass Finn is very hard. (My idea of Finns is kind of like Finland from "Scandinavia and the World"-- silent drunks with a puukko. Although no one threatened me with a puukko when I was in Finland, and they were actually sorta talkative. Huh. One even laughed at me because I was wrapped in too many layers for his taste, but damn was it cold, that man was insane) Also, oh my god, a citizen of the nation of Finland. I need to say something cool, something... uh... I KNOW THE WORDS TO IEVAN'S POLKKA BY HEAD! I'm awesome! and and En puulu suomea! HA! I totally remember a lot of Finnish. (okay, no. But you write "Taxi" like "Taksi" and that cracks me up *This is totally relevant for this post*)
That bit of troll information is just what I needed right now. That totally made me confident in the title again, because now I can pretend that that was my intention. You're awesome, dear anon! :D
OP here, sorry I'm a couple days late (sometimes I forget to check around here...)
I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS it is so amazing! I wish I had your drawing skill, Anon, the faces were so expressive and that's something I can't do personally so I am in wonder. (and, eh, vikings should have beards, but the long hair makes up for it anyway and YES DENMARK'S CLEFT CHIN :D) (Also Magnus totally fits as a name for him. It's a little cheesy, but hell, he's a little cheesy, and it's quickly rising on my list of preferred fanon names) (And OMG Norway and Finland especially actually look manly and I love it)
Like, holy shit, I'm having a hard time reconciling how completely awesome this is - I'm trying not to burst out fangirling in the middle of class. (I started giggling out loud at "We aren't related." "I know.") I was only half-expecting this to be filled at all and I seriously wasn't expecting art.
I'm... I'm going to sit here for a little while and compose myself because I am SO DAMN EXCITED :D :D :D
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 1 [0/5-moar arts!]
Hey guys! Some words and arts before we start the fun:
Thank you for the comments. You are awesomesauce. I also pretty much answered them on the page before realizing that I'm not supposed to answer comments. I kinda suck at kink meme-ing. I didn't answer the OP for this reason, so, OP, lemme say, thanks for this request... and don't check yer phone in class! What if one day I decide to make this NSFW, huh? What then? ;D
Also, every commenter agreed with me on the beards, so... here ya go!
Tino (I am the founder of the Church of the Stubbly Finn, and the author of probably the only two other fills on this meme with bearded!Tino, so there, I just couldn't resist this hear that? It's my anon shattering into a million tiny pieces)
Magnus had been overly eager in sending Eirikr away to gather “Firewood, or, uh, water, or whatever!” so it was only natural for him to be weary. Their jarl (how Magnus insisted to call himself; he was actually no one’s jarl, but, even though Leiknir did not fail to remind him of this every day, the man wouldn’t listen) was not particularly clever, so it hadn’t been hard for Eirikr to see that he planned some sort of mischief, and that he would most likely play the principal part.
He trusted his brother in dissuading him, but that did not mean he would let it all in his hands. Leiknir had his weird moments, too—and when he decided to tease him, he could be even more obnoxious than Magnus—so Eirikr sat in the bushes and listened to their discussion.
His brother’s voice was what he first heard, although the conversation had been going on for a while.
“…making him do these things, and he’s not even a man yet!”
Eirikr hoped for Leiknir’s sake that he wasn’t referring to him. He had lived fifteen winters, and thus was old enough to take over a household, or would be if they had anything of the sort. And he was definitely more mature than Magnus, so this was insulting. He would have said something, but Magnus spoke first.
“Exactly! Who’d better play the part of a woman?”
And that was even more insulting, but the loud ‘SLAP’ that followed made him think that his brother had already taken care of that comment. “What if he—what if the Finn does touch him, huh? What then? He’ll notice that it’s just a trap, and your plan will fail.”
“Nah, listen, he won’t. Your brother’s a smart kid, okay? He’ll know when to block him! Just, you know… a hug here… a kiss there… a blowjob there…” SMACK. “Ouch, okay! A, a handjob?” PUNCH. “Argh! I get it! Then he’ll, uh, get him platonically or something—the important part is that he gets him involved enough to do things for us, anyway, and Eirikr can totally do that! And if you—akk—keep—pulling—on—my—owowow—collar—I’ll—choke—hhhh!”
There were more sounds of Magnus gasping for air, but Eirikr hardly cared. So, what he had made out was that Magnus apparently wanted to get him to try his ridiculous plan of seduction on the Finn, and that he planned on dressing him as a woman.
Yes. As if Eirikr would consent to that. He snarled, placing a hand on his (admittedly not all that impressive, especially when compared to Magnus’ axe) dagger. He was welcome to try.
Then, of course, Leiknir had to ruin it all by speaking. “Haven’t you considered that maybe this will be disadvantageous for his development as a man? He is still a child, and here you are, telling him he’s a woman—what if he takes it seriously and…?”
Eirikr, unable to stop himself, jumped out of the bushes and said “I’LL DO IT!”, face flushed in anger.
Oh. Well, maybe that hadn't been such a good idea. Maybe he had let himself get carried away too far by his brother’s remark of him being a child. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken it personally. Maybe he should have waited.
But now it was too late.
His brother let go of the jarl’s collar, and the man’s (purple) face flashed him a radiant grin.
“Ha! That’s my boy!” he exclaimed, in his annoying shriek of a voice, “well, woman. Whatever.”
This time, Leiknir barely had the time to punch him as Eirikr graced their jarl’s crotch with his shin.
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 1 [2/5]
As his brothers fought, Berwald contended himself to stare the Finn awake.
He was very, very good-looking.
He liked him a lot.
He thought he was cute.
His skin was perfect.
His hair was so soft.
He smelled so good.
His eyes were… oh, he’d woken up.
“Oh! You’re—right—there! Haha! G-good morning, Berwald!” he said, nervously.
Berwald tried to keep it casual; maybe he could put on an attractive kind of expression, or maybe friendly would be better in this kind of situation? Yes, a wide, kind smile would be the best idea, but wait, had he groomed his hair this morning? Oh no, what if he hadn’t, that would surely look terrible—ah, okay, he had. He remembered. What a relief. Still, he would have to do something about his expression. Frowning wasn’t a good idea, that would probably make Tino think that he didn’t like him, and it was quite the contrary, really, the Finn was so handsome and his voice was so nice and he could tell already that he was a good person, so he would have to get rid of his frown—wait, was he frowning right now? Bad, Berwald, bad, he needed to will it away, he had to smile, and, oh geez, he should probably answer him too, he had said ‘Good morning’ in that beautiful accent of his—and he must be so clever that he spoke their tongue so well, Berwald had never grasped a single word of Finnish—and one usually answered that sort of thing, right? He should put on an open, welcoming smile and say ‘Good morning, Tino, did you sleep well? I slept perfectly, because I dreamt of you’ and untie the ropes around his wrists so he could get started in the day.
Of the number of things he had listed in his head, he did an astonishing quantity of—none. He kept glaring at Tino with his brows furrowed, his mouth slightly open, concentrated on his thoughts.
Tino gulped.
After what felt like half an hour for Tino and half a second for Berwald, the Finn managed to speak.
“Berwald? I, um, I have to pee”
The sentence came so soon and so suddenly that Berwald gasped in surprise. His face returned to his usual frown a few seconds later, though, as he nodded and untied the Finn’s hands.
Tino didn’t wait a second to slam his head into the other’s nose and run.
He got tangled in the furs Berwald had brought him the night before—his mind barely registered that he felt a bit guilty—but the taller man was still clutching his bleeding nose when he tumbled forward, leaving a shoe behind in the mess, and he ran as fast as his legs would carry him.
He could see the forms of the other three, and the youngest one, the one with the bird, was pointing at him, and the one that looked just like him but older raised his hands and he could hear words and he slammed into something invisible, something that grunted, and he was lifted in the air by strong, enormous hands and then
Black.
***
He woke up to—surprise—Berwald’s staring eyes.
Well, at least he was getting used to it.
There was an ugly, purple swelling on the bridge of the man’s nose, but it didn’t seem broken. He looked oddly hurt.
Tino was about to greet him again, maybe tell him to go glare at goats instead or something, but a fair maiden stormed into the tent, pushed Berwald out of the way and sank to her knees beside him.
She was exactly Tino’s type: enormous violet eyes framed by jetty lashes, plump lips painted in the slightest shade of pink, fair skin that looked like it had never been greeted by the sun, a flowing dress that hugged her beautiful figure, a very ample chest within this dress, and long white hair that looked like pure silver when the light shone on it just so.
She was also obviously the boy with the bird, which was kind of a bummer.
“Oh, my sweet Finn! How are you?” he—she?—said, in a tone that would have passed as outraged or sad or scared hadn’t it been so plain that it was utterly bored, and a voice that was being pushed up a few octaves too many.
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 1 [3/5]
He silently thanked the thing that had stopped him before and its roughness, because he would have burst laughing if he hadn’t been so sore.
Berwald stared.
Tino swallowed the chuckles that were incessantly threatening to build up in his stomach and chest and tried to bring forth a dizzy yet pleased expression to say, “Better now that such a delicate flower is greeting my presence and healing my wounds with her gorgeous fragrance! Oh, who are you, sweet goddess of spring and beauty?”
That was the cheesiest thing he had ever said in his entire life.
It worked like a charm.
The boy looked between dumbfounded, confused, disgusted and flattered, and his eyes widened a bit. Berwald stared.
Oh, well, that would probably never change.
“Well--” he had forgotten to apply the falsetto to his voice, and it was deep and male before he coughed in an attempt to cover it up and continued, in that obnoxiously high pitch, “I mean, well—my name is Eirikr…i… na… hild. Uh. Eirikrinahild!”
Tino had to pinch himself in the arm painfully so as not to cackle maniacally.
“Oh, what a beautiful name, my little flower! I am Tino, and I am truly your slave” he said, as pompously as he could muster.
Was this their plan of seduction? Really? Their leader hadn’t looked like a genius, but that being this stupid was humanely possible had been unknown to Tino. Well. He could at least have fun.
The boy—or Eirikrinahild, as he seemed to want to be referred to—seemed to consider something for a moment (Tino could only speculate that it was whether it would be acceptable to ask for his favour already or if he should wait a bit more), then took his hand and, looking at Berwald with what had to be the most mortified expression in the world, said “Say, why don’t we move somewhere more… private?”
He was obviously expecting Berwald to get the hint.
Berwald stared. Yeah, not so much.
Tino scrambled to his elbows, finding that, even though his head was pounding, he could stand on slightly shaking legs. Running was probably not a possibility— and he was sure that the grunting something Eirikrinahild’s brother had summoned was still around—but at least he could walk, and maybe get away from Berwald’s eyes for a few seconds (holy Väinämöinen, what was wrong with this man?).
“At once, my tender lily of the valley” he whispered, and the giggle ‘she’ tried to make was actually a very unflattering snort.
***
They held hands all the way out of the tent. Magnus, at one moment where the Finn wasn’t looking, flashed him a grin and an approving gesture, and his brother, while hitting him in the face, had an expression that was very obviously amused. Only Eirikr could tell, of course, any other person would have seen him as emotionless as always, but it Eirikr knew what he was really thinking, and it made him want to throw a rock at his face or something.
This was humiliating enough.
The Finn rubbed gentle circles on his hand, which he touched like it was the most delicate of treasures.
It made him want to wretch in a ditch, but it was also kind of nice to be handled with such care.
“My name is Tino, my shy violet” he said, close to his ear. “But you can call me Ti-ti.”
Eirikr shuddered. He nearly forgot his falsetto again as he said, “What a charming name! And how could I shorten it, it seems almost sacrilegious!”
“Oh, no, I insist. You can call me whatever your beautiful heart desires, but Ti-ti I see most fit for your clever little tongue to say”
If Eirikr hadn’t known better, he would have thought that Tino was making fun of him. But no, his costume was too foolproof (he had made doubly sure of it, because the humiliation of being recognized was something he knew he couldn’t ever bear). If his left “breast” wouldn’t keep sliding down his chest, it would be perfect. But he was sure the Finn wouldn’t have picked that up.
They frolicked within fields and Tino picked him flowers (“small sisters of yours that pale towards your beauty!”).
Eirikr blushed.
Then, when the Finn looked somewhere else, he slapped his own face trying to make that go away.
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 1 [4/5]
“Pray tell, my frail wild rose” Tino said, after a while, as they lay side by side on the grass of the side of a hill, “those friends of yours… who are they?”
“Uh” Eirikr said. To his great annoyance he noticed that the falsetto came naturally now, and that he didn’t have to think about it, “well… the big, annoying one is our great jarl, Magnus. He masters the axe and the war hammer in a way no other mortal knows, but it is known amongst us that the price he paid to the Allfather for this gift was his intelligence. The silent one with the, um, habit to stare is Berwald. It may seem that Brokkr the Dwarf sewed his lips together like Loki’s, but that is just the way he is; on the other hand, he is as swift with his sword as he is with his mind. And the fairest-haired, the one with the stern expression, is Leiknir, my brother. He talks more than Berwald, but the most he converses is with the trolls and huldras and nisse, over whom he has a power not many gods can dream of. He is our mighty shaman.”
Tino seemed to have made a note of everything he said, and for a second, Leiknir was worried that he’d said too much. Then, the Finn put on that love struck expression again. “Oh, but wasn’t there another one?”
Eirikr gulped. The Finn went on, “Yes, when they caught me, there was this shaman you tell me of… and another one, a child, with a face quite similar to--“
“That was not a child!” he screeched, falsetto and all. Oh, fuck. “I-um-I mean, it was my other brother. He is… um… gone fishing. Now. He will probably be away for a few days.”
That raised eyebrow on the Finn’s face. How could it look so insulting, yet so… so… attractive?
Oh. Now it was gone.
Eirikr tried not to think about it. The lovey-dovey expression was still all over Tino’s face as he etched closer, and closer, and…
Oh. Was he going to…? Oh god, he could see his lips, they looked so… so kissable… and the way he smelled, it was virile and yet sweet, he was so close now—Eirikr closed his eyes—and any minute now he would feel those lips and—
There was a slight pressure on his head, and the Finn’s fingers ghosted over his hair. His cheerful voice announced, “I made you a crown of flowers, my radiant daisy!”. Then he was lying at his side again.
Eirikr opened his eyes and could barely hide his disappointment as he touched the chaplet. Then he mentally smacked himself.
They spent the entire day together, lying on the field, and with each thing the Finn whispered into his ear, Eirikr found it easier to blush and keep his fake female voice in control and to giggle at his cheesy jokes.
As the sun went down, Ti-ti and him stood on their hill and looked over the beautiful reddening mountains.
His voice was incredibly sad as he whispered, “I know you are not what you claim to be, my tiny forget-me-not.”
Ungh. Shit.
“Wh-what are you saying, Ti-ti?”
“You are not for me. I have known it since the very first second I gazed into those gemstones you have for eyes.”
“But my sweetling—“
“No, Eirikrinahild, cease the tingling of those melodious bells that are your voice. Allow me to explain. I know that you are a creature of the forest, an elf, as your tales tell. I know that you are not human.”
“Uh. What?” was all Eirikr managed. Tino turned around to look over the mountains.
“It is quite obvious. The way you came out of nowhere, replacing the boy you said was your brother. He is not gone fishing—you are a changeling, placed in his stead. Do not try to dissuade me, for I know. I know that you are fond of me, my tolling harebell, maybe as fond as I am of you… yet I know too that it is your forest folk that sends you to lure me, and that you do not wish to do so.”
“But… but my Slav-shooting love arrow, how can you say such things?”
Tino shook his head. “I know. The makeshift covers your people placed on you are fading as night falls, my dear. The coal on your eyelashes is disappearing. The red on your lips has faded. And” he raised a hand in which he clutched a bundle of cloth, “you dropped this”
YOU GUYS. I'm sorry for the delay. I'm moving right now. Like, 'I shouldn't even be writing this'-right now. This chapter will be posted in two parts because a) it' longer than Finland's dong and b) I don't know when I'll be able to keep uploading and I didn't want to keep you hanging for so long. (most of the rest is already written though, this won't be abandoned, I love it too much for that, I swear!)
I also made the mistake (lol)of researching a lot, which kind of rendered some of my ideas inaccurate. Norway isn't a shaman anymore, but a Seiðmaðr (and you'll have that explained, I swear) and to explain why I had to write a lot more historical stuff into this fic that I had originally intended (i.e.: men weren't allowed to be shamans *cue tragical background for Norway*). A Seiðmaðr and a shaman are sorta the same thing, though, so Fin will mentally refer to Leiknir as a shaman ('cause the Finns had no problem with that sort of thing).
Okay, that being said... Here are the arts! Please open them when it is indicated in the text like this->[Fig. X]. I suggest you open this comment in another tab and then switch between tabs. Or, you know, just check them whenever you want, or at the end xD. I used this method because I felt that putting a link in the middle of the narration kinda killed the flow.
Fig. 2 the runes are just 'Magnus'. http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/OFTaSV014.jpg.html?sort=3&o=1
Fig. 4 NSFW looking, but it isn't. It' just that it's speculated that the Seiðr was a very sexual sort of magic, so... yay, a naked Leiknir! :D http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/OFTaSV005.jpg.html?sort=3&o=5
He had strengths—mostly physical, if not only physical—, yet patience definitely wasn’t one of them. They had all failed many times because, for some reason none of them could really explain, they let him lead, and he hadn’t been able to chose a proper time to attack.
It was probably that (beside his obvious lack of brains, of course) what made them travel in a tiny group of four instead of really having a tribe.
Magnus also had a tendency not to listen, or, what annoyed Leiknir even more, to understand what he fancied rather than what was being said. If one said “no”, it meant “Maybe”. If one said “no, I will not have sex with you”, it meant “I am at a loss with my feelings and/or prudish, so you will just have to try harder”. And if one said “I will never fucking ever have sex with you”, it meant “Come on, you’re almost there, big boy”.
Ugh. Sex. Leiknir wasn’t interested in the stuff. He’d had it before, of course—willing girls were everywhere if you had the looks. Yeah. It just… wasn’t his thing. And while the idea of having it with Magnus was not entirely unappealing, he…
Wait. Wait, it was entirely unappealing. He would surely be impatient and quick and loud, and it would involve having sex, which was kind of disgusting on itself. They would have to get all sweaty and dirty. Besides, there were things one just didn’t do.
One of those things was Magnus.
But his inner monologue was escalating quite quickly; what he had been thinking about before sex (ugh, sex) had been Magnus’ impatience and inability to listen, and how remarkable it was of him that he was allowing Leiknir to delay his impending… ‘encounter’ with the Finn so much.
Already a week had passed since the jarl had given him his ‘mission’, and he kept saying that he wouldn’t do it yet. That he was planning something. That the Finn would become suspicious if he started something so soon after his brother’s failure.
The day before, he’d just shrugged and said that he didn’t feel like it at the time.
His excuses were getting less and sloppier, and Magnus, for all his impatience, was letting him get away with it. Had it been Berwald, they would already have had a massive fight that would have ended in Berwald’s sword an inch too deep in Magnus’ abdomen and Magnus’ axe an inch too deep in Berwald’s throat and both of them almost dying if Leiknir didn’t find them, cure them and beat them both up again for being complete idiots. [Fig. 1]
(The scars on both Magnus’ tummy and Berwald’s neck testified that this wasn’t just a worst case scenario.)
But it was Leiknir, and if anything came close to physical violence, it were just his own usual educational slaps.
Eventually he would have to do it, though.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t comfortable that he could do it. Oh, he knew he could. He could be sensual when he wanted, could pretend to think like everyone else who actually liked sex (and again: ugh, sex); but in the end, the problem was that he didn’t really want to have it. It just wasn’t one of his interests, as, say, carving wood wasn’t one of Magnus’ (who had once had a carving item slammed into his chest, courtesy of Berwald, who did enjoy carving and had found himself impeded by an obnoxious, drunk jarl trying to pick a fight, which he eventually got. It was hard to say who had ended up worse, though, because Leiknir still remembered applying an ointment to Berwald’s broken ribs and wincing in sympathy).
As much as he had secretly hoped the Finn would escape (while still doing everything in his power to stop him), the man had ‘only’ tried four times since the minor nasal fracture he had given Berwald.
One of those times he had even managed to snatch Magnus’ war hammer and lift the thing; the look on the jarl’s face was one of utter fear, which had been kind of hilarious, until the Finn couldn’t hold it anymore and almost dropped it on his brother’s foot, which was a bit too close. [Fig. 2]
At that point the fun was over; no one touched his brother. No one.
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2a [2/5]
After his last attempt (which involved untying fifteen different types of knots on his ankles), Berwald, showing a lot of commitment for the group (a commitment Leiknir, quite frankly, had not expected), decided to sleep with an eye on him. And, well, an arm.
Somehow, he didn’t think it was because in one of the attempts the Finn had tried to steal his sword.
The look of jealousy on his brother’s face at seeing Berwald practically snuggling the Finn annoyed him to no extent.
He sighed, deciding that he would start his advances on Saturday—the “laugardagr”, the day of the bath, would surely give him many opportunities to be sexual (and, albeit fearing repetition, there was still that echo in his brain of ugh, sex)—if nothing else, then to protect his brother’s honour.
It was currently Thor’s day. Two days were really not enough time to prepare, but he had been “preparing” for a week already. Oh well, it would have to do.
***
Berwald was rather happy when at Freyja’s day morning Tino didn’t startle upon seeing him looking at him as he woke. Instead, the Finn grunted and turned around, and if Berwald hadn’t been so happy at the fact that Tino was comfortable enough to willingly turn his back to him, he might have noticed him rolling his eyes. [Fig. 3]
But he didn’t, contended with that trust he thought the other placed in him.
Tino, on the other hand, had just about had enough. The night before he hadn’t found sleep thinking about ways to escape. Berwald’s eyes had been closed, but it seemed that each time he moved a bit too sharply, he would find them glaring at him intensely after so much as blinking; now he just didn’t care.
It was also a bit too warm and comfortable to think about scary things.
The press of the other’s body against his was a bit too much, though, and his eyes snapped open.
Last week, when the Viking had started to sleep close to him, he had wondered if this was their next attempt of seduction. He just knew that there were more coming: that Magnus did not seem like the type to easily accept defeat (or his own stupidity, for that matter), and thus he constantly expected one of them to approach him that way; yet Berwald’s actions were way too awkward to be even remotely interpreted as courting, so he had had to arrive to the conclusion that this wasn’t what he was doing, and thus, that he had absolutely no idea what exactly it even was that he was doing.
(He would maybe have been amused and puzzled at seeing that it was seduction what Berwald was trying on him, although it was for reasons unlinked to the rest of the group.)
The other’s breath was hot on the back of his neck. It was actually rather terrifying if he went with the theory that he wasn’t flirting.
Maybe Berwald was just misunderstood and in constant need of a hug. Oh, that seemed so plausible he almost started chuckling; but he couldn’t relax fully, and slowly pried the other’s arm off him to signal that he wanted to get up.
He had been on this duty when Eirikrinahild—no, wait, Eirikr now—popped his head in the tent and started to mumble something about getting the hell up already because there was a ship at the harbour and they wanted to sell them stuff. His face, though, darkened immediately at seeing their position, and Tino felt an unavoidable pang of guilt.
He had maybe taken things a bit too far with the boy’s feelings a week ago.
Tino hadn’t wanted to hurt him in any way; he had just seen an occasion to have fun, and no one in their sane mind would depreciate that, would they? But the boy had apparently become a bit too attached during the hours they’d spent together, and the consequence was a quite obviously broken heart.
Berwald let go of him and they both stood up and washed their heads and faces as was Viking custom. Tino found it to be an agreeable habit, and was quite curious what this ‘washing day’ they had been talking about would be like. He wondered if to them it meant something like the sauna to the Finns; spiritual cleaning as well as physical, a place of silence and rebirth.
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2a [3/5]
He doubted it. He couldn’t quite imagine these scandalous, ravaging madmen lying still in a steam-filled ditch, watching vapours rise towards the ever grey sky of winter and feeling themselves be cleansed.
(Oh. He missed his home.)
At the harbour was a small market. They hadn’t gathered much over the past week, but what they had, they were going to sell. It was mostly either hunted goods, things that Leiknir’s troll had found in the forest, or carved and manufactured crafts Berwald had made.
Tino was still amazed at how skilled Berwald’s immense hands could be. Even though the man quite obviously had to strain his view, which did not seem to be too accurate, he brought forth beautiful pieces of art.
Eirikr had Tino on a leash while the others sold their ware, being the only one not doing anything. Tino could maybe have overthrown him, but he felt a bit too sorry for that.
Immediately after joining the people at the harbour, Magnus had started flirting with the daughter of the captain of the newly arrived ship, to Leiknir’s great dismay; the shaman grunted and slapped the back of his head, but there was absolutely no way of denying that the girl did not seem displeased.
Tino mused.
He found it funny how, after spending a mere week with them, he new a lot about his captors, while they still seemed at a loss. Take, for example, their sexual customs; on account of constantly being suspicious, he had focused on that, and now thought to know what… floated their boats.
Magnus, as was rather obvious, swung both ways, just like the Finn himself. There was an air on him that just seemed to scream that when it came to sex, he liked both, um, ‘meat’ and ‘fish’, and damn him if he preferred either.
Eirikr, as sweet as he’d been dressed as a girl and as attached as he’d grown to Tino, seemed, possibly without even knowing it, to prefer the shy smiles of a girl to the rough companionship of another man. That is, if Tino hadn’t completely interrupted his development of a sexuality. The way he seemed to steal glances at the girls at the harbour made Tino certain that he hadn’t completely rattled his preferences, though, so maybe he did not have to feel so guilty. And, well, if Eirikr ended up being interested in both like his leader and his first love, he didn’t find anything wrong in that, either.
The creepy ones were harder, but he’d had a week to focus on them, after all.
Berwald, if he hadn’t completely lost his ability to judge people (and he was not entirely certain that this wasn’t the case, as Berwald pretty much turned everything he thought to know about the human psyche upside down with his illogical behaviour), preferred, if he was to continue with the food metaphor, ‘meat’. If he even ‘ate’ anything at all, that is. He was currently selling something to a fairly attractive girl, and his sentences were… complete, which was quite the accomplishment concerning this man, really—he didn’t once mumble like he usually did, and while the girl was not really subtle when brushing his hand with hers as he handled her his carved pieces, Berwald’s face didn’t seem interested at all.
He found this rather amusing. He knew the Vikings’ views respecting homosexuality (being the submissive partner was considered effeminate, thus weak, and punished). Then again, he could imagine Berwald glaring anyone who accused him of being effeminate to death. And, well, imagining Berwald as submissive was actually hard. (And interesting. Maybe.)
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2a [4/5]
The one he was at a loss with, though, was Leiknir. The man looked at the world with a bored gaze through empty eyes, as if he wasn’t interested in anything at all. Not even when he was talking to the air he considered inhabited by a mythological being did his eyes lose that uninterested shine; not food, not sleep, not walking or talking or even slapping Magnus (as appeared to be a common occurrence) ever accomplished to make him smile or show any kind of emotion at all. It was almost as unsettling as Berwald’s constant glare. And now, seeing him interact with both genders, he seemed truly unfazed by either.
Well, there had to be people who didn’t like ‘eating’ at all. It was impossible to starve this way, after all, wasn’t it?
He decided, as the others returned with purchased goods and money, that Leiknir was the one least likely to be next luring him.
***
“I could consider this humiliating, but everything you do is humiliating, so I guess I am used to it”, Leiknir said.
Magnus looked apologetic. His voice was a tad more careful than usual; whether this was because he feared another punch or not, Leiknir couldn’t quite tell. “Come on. You know I won’t think you any less of a man, don’t you? I’m having you around and doing your magic and you know I don’t think you’re weak, right? Or unmanly?”
He didn’t slap him, as Magnus seemed to be expecting.
This was because Leiknir was thankful. He’d been an outcast before: people knew that he was more than just a Runemaster, that he could talk to beings no one else saw and practice the Seiðr better than many women. [Fig. 4] Because of this he’d been accused of being argr—effeminate, unmanly, weak, to sum up: everything their society hated.
Of course he had challenged his accuser to a duel to settle the dispute and prove his virility, and of course he’d won; yet even then they all thought that he’d won because of supernatural help.
The only person able to testify this or not was dead now, but it didn’t matter.
Then Magnus had come, heard about the Seiðmaðr in town and sequestrated him and his brother, who’d been but a child of six winters back then. The rest was now.
But he would be ten times damned before he thanked the man. He already boosted enough as it was, and Leiknir wasn’t going to give him a reason to love himself even more.
Tentatively opening an eye after waiting for a hit without result, Magnus said, “I, um, just don’t think he likes beards. And, and you know they grow back! You’ll have that manly forest of manly wire and manliness growing manly out of your manly face again in no manly time, man!”
He kicked his shin for overusing the term he was at the same time so blatantly questioning, but picked up the razor Magnus had handed him and shaved before the piece of silver the man held up for him anyway.
The air was cold and strangely silky on his face afterwards, but it was oddly satisfying to see his own face again.
Magnus complimented him in ways that were awfully improper (particularly considering the fact that Leiknir didn’t want sex) and that didn’t make the fact that shaving someone’s beard usually was considered emasculating any better. When he felt the other’s hands on his ass he was too tired to punch him, so he lamely stepped on his boot.
Tomorrow was laugardagr.
***
Naked.
Vikings.
Naked Vikings.
Everywhere.
Tino wasn’t sure where to look and where not to look.
Berwald, on the other hand, seemed quite sure of what he wanted to be watching, and that was Tino. He wasn’t even hiding it—by Louhi, this man was weird. Maybe it was Viking custom to stare at each other without moving at all during laugardagr, except he didn’t see, say, Eirikr doing anything of the sort.
If Eirikr stared intensely, it was only at his own washcloth and under no circumstances anyone else, especially not Tino.
Magnus seemed interested in looking, yes, but more so in being looked at; he wandered around, occasionally stopping to stand at full height and full glory in the sunlight, letting it cast shadows on his skin where it was rippled with muscle, running his hand up and down his chest.
Tino wondered why, if they did this every Saturday.
MASSIVE MONSTER DELAY for which I'm sorry, as I am for the bad writing (Most of it is unproductive nonsense. Nothing worked as I wanted it D:) and the length of this thing. Also, more 'lengthy' things to come (see what I did there? NO I'M NOT SORRY FOR THAT)and--OP. You may want to stop checking from your phone. I know you are a rebel, an antichrist and anarchist, though, so you'll do what yer wild heart tells you, huh? xD Notes at the end, illustrations as links in the story. Enjoy!
Second Attempt: Laugardagr and a Man at a Loss II
Leiknir’s eyes wandered over his naked body in a way that could have seemed lascivious if Tino hadn’t been absolutely sure that they didn’t really care, but they fixed right at his face when he said, “I wanted to talk to you”.
The Finn sat down next to the naked wizard. “Then talk” he said.
Leiknir looked over the stream he’d been bathing in again, taking the washcloth and squeezing it over his chest. The water ran down in tiny rivulets, not unlike it had on Berwald a few minutes earlier; Leiknir wasn’t all that muscular, but his skin sure looked smooth. It was quite the sight, too.
“It is known amongst us that your folk possesses… powers. I know no stories of Finns that do not contain at least one powerful sorcerer, and I know of men who bought ropes tied to knots from your people because loosening these knots is sure to give good sailing winds.”
He stopped his words to glance at him again from half-lidded eyes, and in them was perhaps the slightest sparkle: Tino thought that maybe this subject truly interested him. Then Leiknir gracefully raised a long leg out of the water, stretching and flexing it once before briefly grazing it with the washcloth, still observing him.
He was good at this, but two could play this game… and Tino had no doubt that the one losing would eventually be Leiknir.
***
Berwald was a man of silence and few words and graceful, feline strength. If one were to compare him to an animal, the closest to him would be the great lion, an almost mythological beast only some Vikings knew of from travels far, far south.
While his eyes weren’t his strength, he had a mind sharper than ravenous teeth, unruly blond hair, a talent with the sword that compared to the longest of claws and a lean, muscular frame. He was silent as a stalking predator, breaking not a single twig and making not a single sound, reducing men with sharp senses to nothing but deaf and blind deer, wounded and crying and already within his jaws.
Currently, he was employing this talent of predatory soundlessness in spying on Leiknir and Tino from within the bushes.
He was frowning intensely, but that was hardly an unusual circumstance.
(If looks could kill, Leiknir would have quite possibly been feeling himself dissolve into a bubbling puddle of gore, and if looks could do other things, Tino would have quite possibly been feeling himself groped in inadequate places, but looks were just looks and the two of them were oblivious.)
Tino was, much to his dismay, smiling a little, seductive smile, and inched a bit closer to Leiknir.
Right above his head was a sharp intake of breath; he almost gasped, as well, noticing that Eirikr’s face had just surfaced above him with a quiet rustling of leaves.
“That little snake!” the boy hissed, inadvertently leaning his chin on Berwald’s head, but the latter was unsure who of them he was talking about.
“I was wondering if maybe you could…” Leiknir said, and to hear the next part they almost had to strain their ears, for it was said in a sensual whisper, “teach me”.
Even farther above his head there was suddenly another quick rustling of leaves and the weight on his head doubled, just as another, familiar and obnoxious voice exclaimed “Ha! That’s my Leiki, always so straightforward!”
Above him, Eirikr took on his brother’s job and tried to punch Magnus, who swiftly dodged under protests: sadly, no one was as effective as Leiknir with him. He eventually shut up on his own as the Finn’s eyes quickly darted in the direction of their bush.
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [2/6]
(Berwald thought he’d seen him roll his eyes, but figured he might have imagined it, as he said nothing.)
“Of course you could expect me to repay you” Leiknir continued whispering; then he stood up, exposing his wet, naked flesh in its entirety to them and the Finn (above him, Eirikr made some comment about killing Magnus if he felt something poking his hip) and positioned himself behind the latter, leaning down to gently rub his back.
Magnus whimpered softly, but Berwald didn’t think about whatever might have caused it and just focused on the way the Finn very obviously leaned into the contact. All sounds his obnoxious jarl may have made were silenced a few seconds later, anyway, when from within Tino’s throat came a sound so deeply obscene that Berwald was actually grateful the other two were behind him and had no way of noticing what came to say hello between his legs.
There was a moment of silence, and then, in an equally lascivious tone, “Harder”.
Eirikr moaned and Magnus huffed, but Berwald just crouched there, contemplating, trying to will his little Midgard-snake back to peaceful pants-slumber and failing greatly. Still, what upset him most wasn’t the uncoiling world serpent not even Thor himself could wrestle down, but the way the Finn let himself go so obviously.
Then, something happened.
Tino’s eyes quickly darted to the bushes and rested on Berwald’s for a second before turning away. The lust he was expressing so physically didn’t seem to have reached them.
He was at an absolute loss as of what this could mean.
***
Leiknir could hardly control his displeasure. Did the Finn have to make those sounds? Those bodily gestures? By the völva, this was too much. As if he was doing it on purpose.
But, well, at least Leiknir was obviously doing it right.
Very, very obviously. In one particularly violent moan, the Finn threw his head back and mouthed his name. Leiknir made a face that could have soured milk—only inwardly, of course—and tried to think about the advantages the Finn would bring them.
For a start, maybe he would shut Magnus up for a while.
He still had the suspicion that he had no magical powers whatsoever, which was a turn-off (not that he would have needed one, as the turning on in itself had never occurred in the first place) though, so he pressed further on his previous inquiry.
“Well? Will you be my… master?” he asked, pressing down hard on his shoulders to emphasize the word. He had the idea of submitting in such an obvious way from Magnus, who was into Leiknir acknowledging his authority so much that making him do it pretty much gave him an instantaneous boner (as he never had bothered hiding or just as much as not commenting with “Grrr, you make my Mjölnir spring into action…you know, just as Thor’s, it gets bigger if you rub it!”, to which Leiknir always responded by, indeed, ‘rubbing’ it—violently, with his boot, and just once).
…but he preferred not to think about Magnus right now, lest the Finn’s shoulders turn broader in his mind and his hair longer and his moans into his jarl’s grunts; it would make this even more humiliating to imagine Magnus in this position. Luckily, the Finn brought him back with a whisper that was very obviously not Magnus’.
“I would love to have you under me”. The tone was quite seductive. Ah, he was responding to his flirtations. He would have cringed if it wasn’t a dead give-away. Well, maybe, if he got him to reveal how to do the weather-trick, if he even knew such a thing, he could stop this nonsense before having to actually get down to the dirtier business…
Either way, Leiknir was going to kill Magnus when this was over. He was going to strangle him with the furs he wore, maybe press them down on his face to asphyxiate him—or, better, he would bare his throat and squeeze—like he squeezed the sides of the neck in front of him now—and then he would push him down—getting on his knees, like he was now—and then he would straddle him—close to his body, like he was to the one before him now—and lean in and whisper—
Wait, this wasn’t Magnus. Wait, what was he doing?
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [3/6]
Forgot this one after Tino's ridiculous moan http://s963.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/P4080005.jpg.html?sort=3&o=6
He jumped up, cursing himself. For the first time in the whole endeavour, he had the feeling that he could absolutely not put up with this any longer: it was awfully humiliating, and, really, he hated sex, and why did he have to do this stupid thing when he’d much rather be strangling his jarl naked—
And then there was the Finn, who had stood up after him and now asked him, “What is it, my underling?”, clearly enjoying himself.
Leiknir had always considered himself a master of controlling his facial expressions. Really, when it came to expressing emotions, he was so blank it was completely impossible to tell what he was thinking. This came from years of training himself to think that he already seemed effeminate enough—what with practicing the Seiðr and all—and that emotions would only enhance that misconception, thus mastering a complete lack of them whatsoever. In this, however, he had neglected that, while his face was a piece of stone, his body was very able to perform acts that might betray him.
Right now, for example, he was shoving the Finn against a tree with the intention of basking his head in.
Oh no. Shit. He controlled himself before launching the offending punch, instead camouflaging it as a straightforward caress to his cheek and down his neck and chest. Ah, crisis averted…
…or not, as the Finn apparently took it as a challenge to be rough in return; with a cocky smile, he grabbed him by the shoulders and swiftly switched their positions, pressing his back against the tree in his stead and pushing a leg between his.
Leiknir thought he heard some kind of protest from a bush nearby, but his mind couldn’t dwell on it right now, instead shaking it off as some animal in the undergrowth. The Finn leaned in to whisper “Eager, Leiknir?”, as if he knew that it would piss him off, as if he was doing this coldly and calculatingly to amuse himself.
The Finn’s face hovered close to his, a moment too long, and it seemed apparent that he would kiss him, and Leiknir tried not to avert his face.
He would definitely kill Magnus. He would hurt him first: he would even bite him. Maybe, if the Finn’s mouth came down on his, he would imagine Magnus doing the same and how it would be to bite his tongue and…
He closed his eyes and thought of his jarl.
Nothing came.
***
Tino was so, so sorry.
This was mostly self-defence: Leiknir could not expect him to let himself be so obviously pushed against a tree without retorting, after all. It was just fair that Tino teased him and cornered him.
At first it had been hilarious, because, although the man’s face did not let on a thing, his body language made it perfectly clear that the entire situation was making him uncomfortable; right now, though, something was bothering him a bit too much. Tino didn’t want to end up confusing him as much as he had Eirikr—causing him harm was far from anything he wanted. He decided to continue their dialogue.
“Ah, yes, um—magic!” he said, attempting a reassuring smile that Leiknir completely missed because of his closed eyes. “Um, well—they say that when a little man made of copper rose from the sea and the Ancient Bard Väinämöinen ordered him to cut down the immense oak that obscured the sun after he turned into a giant, the tree fell and each of its branches grants him who takes it magic powers. Maybe you should take me home so we can look for a branch of the magical oak?”
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [4/6]
Leiknir could have said many things then, after confusedly opening one eye to make sure there was no impending kiss. He could have said that there was no way he was going to fall for the taking him home thing, or he could have asked if that meant that he had no magical powers as of now; yet the world works in funny ways, and a man’s mind will never do as expected, and what Leiknir quite eloquently asked was no other thing than
“Uh. W-what?”
The Finn started chuckling. Okay, he would make Leiknir uncomfortable just once more, the last time—this one was just too good to pass up on.
“Oh, figures you don’t know—Väinämöinen! He was an Ancient Bard born from a super kinky threesome between the old virgin Luonnotar, who wanted to finally have sex, the Sea, and the Wind!”
He could practically see the way the sexual imagery spread involuntarily in Leiknir’s brain, and used the occasion to stop their nonsense right then and there.
“So… you see that I am useless outside of my land, yes? I need to, uh, take magic from there, so it would be best if you just took me back in order to show you, okay?”
But something in Leiknir seemed to have snapped. His face was, upon inspection, blank in a different way than before—as if, somehow, he had just suffered some kind of overdose…
“Hey! Man! I just said something super important that could pretty much end this stupid plot right here—I don’t have magic! Hey, are you listening to me? ...Leiknir?”
***
Berwald wanted to say something and didn’t, but he never said anything, anyway. He turned around to see if his jarl had finally gotten that this had been a stupid idea.
Looking at Eirikr and Magnus, they both were frowning, just as he was, and looked equally concentrated. Then, Eirikr said,
“A… a small man made of copper?”
Berwald stared at him, disbelieving; hadn't he listened to anything else? He had thought the kid to have some of Leiknir’s quick wits, what was this?
“WAIT!” Magnus then blurted out, so loud the Finn immediately looked at the bushes again, prompting Berwald to try and cover them—but well, at least he seemed to have realized what their captive’s last statement involved. “A girl can only get pregnant through one hole. Does that mean they took turns, or did they both fit in her, um, axe wound? And—and were the Sea and the Wind people, or did she get it on with water and air? Because once a girl told me that if you shove water into the toothless-dwarf-mouth it hurts like—hey!”
Eirikr tried to punch him again, which was, sadly, dodged.
“Didn’t ya notice anything else?” Berwald said, slowly.
Magnus looked at him, puzzled; then he frowned, and pouted, “Yeah. The Finn pretty much assaulted Leiki and he didn’t protest! I-I mean, Leiknir is supposed to do the seducing, so why would he tolerate something like that?”
Berwald would have loved to guide his palm to his face and hit it until he was as mentally numb as the other two, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned to continue watching, leaving Eirikr confusedly thinking about what copper had to do with the ocean, and Magnus grumbling and pouting by turns.
***
A whirlwind of naked, writhing bodies passed through his mind, voicing cries of ecstasy.
There were thing he could never unsee, he knew. Right now, there were just too much of those things: the Finn’s naked body, his hands on that body, that body pressing his own against a tree; and somewhere, a desire—somehow, naked wasn’t such a bad word anymore. Somehow, he had spent all his life thinking sex—ugh, sex?—was a stinking, sweaty activity, and he’d just observed it calculatingly and coldly and always from afar, and now he’d been thrown right into the water.
From within, it wasn’t that bad. Maybe he could get used to it.
Then the Finn’s body morphed into a bigger, broader one—a familiar one, a willing one—and he wished it taught him how to swim, and he didn’t think about it coldly anymore, but from within the waters.
In other less fancy and cryptic words: Leiknir ran away with an erection.
***
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [5/6]
Later, when Eirikr went after the Seiðmaðr and Magnus told him to watch the Finn while he had some things to think about, Berwald stepped out of the bushes and appeared next to the shocked Tino.
“Oh, hi. I’m afraid I don’t quite get your, um, culture.”
Berwald thought long and hard about how to put in words that he knew—that he was well aware that the Finn knew of Magnus’ plans (but of course he knew, he was so intelligent, and perceptive, and smart!), that he had just been playing with Leiknir and Eirikr as well (that’s why he’d been laughing—oh, how adorable he was, how playful!) and that he’d just told them through hints (he ran out of flattering terms related to his thoughts, so he trailed off to and he’s very, very hot). He thought, and thought, and, unsurprisingly, what finally managed to come out of his mouth was a non-committal sounding “Hm.”
They looked at nothing in particular in silence, until Tino said, “Say, Berwald—can I finish bathing?”
Berwald happily tagged along, not even trying not to look at the Finn’s naked butt.
***
Back to their tents, Leiknir put his clothes on, but he still felt naked—and he liked it. He even contemplated masturbating, something he had pretty much never thought about before. Oh, wow. He felt great.
His brother came to him and asked him what was up, and he barely suppressed a supremely cheesy “my dick is up, that’s what”. Ah, that was something Magnus would say.
Oooh, Magnus. Leiknir bit his lip. Where was he? His eyes could use some of that rippled chest and strong legs—what was this sudden urge to howl? It didn’t matter; when he saw the man, he was going to eat that meat—he was going to be the Freyja to his Óðr (or viceversa, and gods did that thought set his loins on fire), and he was going to care very little about being argr or whatever and—
“Brother? Are you well? N-not that I was spying or anything, I just, um, casually saw that you ran away from Titi—I mean, the Finn, and, uh, what is it?”
“Where’s Magnus?” Leiknir coughed. His cheeks were turning red, and he licked his lips. “I need to speak to him”, he added, however not continuing the sentence aloud with about having him bang me against a tree like Ragnarök is tomorrow.
“Um. I don’t know. Shall I go looking for him? Do you want to rest? I… I know you didn’t want to do this, Leiknir, it was hard for me, too—“
“Yes. Yes, look for him. And bring him here” so I can seduce him like Loki seduced Svaðilfari. Well, maybe with less bestialism, but to fuck all the same. Again, he did not finish the sentence.
Eirikr nodded and, after putting on his clothes again, ran off.
Magnus sat in the water and brooded. In a puddle nearby, Berwald and the Finn splashed each other like three-year-olds, but he felt no desire to join them at all. He was gloomily contemplating his reflection in the water, for once feeling not all that good. He didn’t even want to be naked, which was quite the rare occurrence, but he didn’t want to go back to the camp and bother Leiknir.
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Any Nordic/Finland - supernatural powers, vikings, kidnapping/seduction
(Anonymous) 2013-02-09 09:14 pm (UTC)(link)http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weather_modification#History
I'd like one of the other Nordics to attempt to attempt to use these powers to his advantage, by trying to woo Finland. (Please no weepy moeblob) Perhaps some sort of kidnapping is involved, or he is taken prisoner after a raid, or something, and the other Nordic decides to try and get on his good side to give him an unexpected edge in battle. Cue seduction that doesn't quite go as expected.
Bonus: Badass!Finland totally knows what's happening and plays the situation to his own advantage
Re: Any Nordic/Finland - supernatural powers, vikings, kidnapping/seduction
(Anonymous) 2013-02-10 09:06 am (UTC)(link)Re: Any Nordic/Finland - supernatural powers, vikings, kidnapping/seduction
(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 01:05 am (UTC)(link)I have this wild plotbunny jumping around and kicking stuff in my brain and I'm a crazy SuFin fangirl but can't see Sweden trying to seduce someone without being instantly hilarious and I need all the other Nordics too.
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-02-11 02:40 am (UTC)(link)Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Prologue (COMIC)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-17 12:18 am (UTC)(link)Human names (I will use the canon names, but the fanon names for the other nordics are mostly post christian era so I can't use them, even though I love them. Hope that's okay!):
Sweden- Berwald; Finland- Tino (yes, I know it's not Finnish, but it's canon); Norway- Leiknir; Iceland- Eirikr; Denmark- Magnus (not sure about that one... suggestions?)
[Also, the faces look weird sometimes because they all had beards originally (except for Iceland) and I didn't ink them because I figured that not everyone loves beards as much as I do, but--vikings should have beards. Just saiyin']
Page 1
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/PAGE1.jpg.html
Page 2
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/PAGE2.jpg.html
Page 3
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/PAGE3.jpg.html
Page 4
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/PAGE4.jpg.html
Page 5
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/PAGE5.jpg.html
Page 6
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/PAGE6.jpg.html
Page 7
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/PAGE7.jpg.html
...and that's it. I apologize profusely for the awfully cliché moment at the end, but I just, uh, had to finish somehow. Also, no, Finland is not a troll in this. I just made a really really really lame pun involving the beautiful band Finntroll and the internet phenomenon of a "troll" and the fact that he's believed to have magical powers. DON'T JUDGE ME.
Re: Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Prologue (COMIC)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-17 03:56 am (UTC)(link)I love the faces. :3 and I agree with you in re: beards personally. But! On the upside, not having beards means we get to see Denmark's cleft chin. CLEFT CHIN YES anon it just suits him so well!
idk, I think Magnus is a superb name for Denmark. It makes him even more like the derpy brother of Gaston from Beauty and the Beast in my mind and fits him really well. I can imagine him going around telling everybody and then quickly following up any self-introductions with 'it means great! because I'm great!' Leiknir is a lovely name for a pre-Christian Norway, excellent choice!
This is fabulous work, anon. Would love to see the rest of it :3c
Re: Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Prologue (COMIC)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-17 09:17 pm (UTC)(link)And I am so using that. And I laughed my ass of at Gaston's derpy brother. Holy crap :D
You will see the rest! The it will be in written form because that is quicker and easier, but I will definitely post more illustrations.
Re: Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Prologue (COMIC)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-17 02:00 pm (UTC)(link)They should totally have beards! Though, okay, I get why not have them... But still. x) Vikings and beards just go together! But it's fine, I can suspend my disbelief. Oh and I'm glad you realized that it wouldn't make sense for them to have Christian names! I don't know if I'd have even thought of that but it would have been weird anyway.
About trolls: It actually kinda makes sense, considering that the word "troll" used to mean "witch"/"mage" in Old Norse.
I'm really glad to see a viking AU, too. Can't have too many of them. :3
Re: Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Prologue (COMIC)
(Anonymous) 2013-02-17 09:12 pm (UTC)(link)That bit of troll information is just what I needed right now. That totally made me confident in the title again, because now I can pretend that that was my intention. You're awesome, dear anon! :D
OMFG
(Anonymous) 2013-02-21 01:48 am (UTC)(link)I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS it is so amazing! I wish I had your drawing skill, Anon, the faces were so expressive and that's something I can't do personally so I am in wonder. (and, eh, vikings should have beards, but the long hair makes up for it anyway and YES DENMARK'S CLEFT CHIN :D) (Also Magnus totally fits as a name for him. It's a little cheesy, but hell, he's a little cheesy, and it's quickly rising on my list of preferred fanon names) (And OMG Norway and Finland especially actually look manly and I love it)
Like, holy shit, I'm having a hard time reconciling how completely awesome this is - I'm trying not to burst out fangirling in the middle of class. (I started giggling out loud at "We aren't related." "I know.") I was only half-expecting this to be filled at all and I seriously wasn't expecting art.
I'm... I'm going to sit here for a little while and compose myself because I am SO DAMN EXCITED :D :D :D
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 1 [0/5-moar arts!]
(Anonymous) 2013-02-22 08:41 pm (UTC)(link)Thank you for the comments. You are awesomesauce. I also pretty much answered them on the page before realizing that I'm not supposed to answer comments. I kinda suck at kink meme-ing. I didn't answer the OP for this reason, so, OP, lemme say, thanks for this request... and don't check yer phone in class! What if one day I decide to make this NSFW, huh? What then? ;D
Also, every commenter agreed with me on the beards, so... here ya go!
Berwald
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/Berwsi.jpg.html?sort=3&o=2
Magnus (don't cry for his chin, it is still there!)
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/datMagnus.jpg.html?sort=3&o=3
Leiknir
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/Leiknir.jpg.html?sort=3&o=1
Tino (I am the founder of the Church of the Stubbly Finn, and the author of probably the only two other fills on this meme with bearded!Tino, so there, I just couldn't resist this
hear that? It's my anon shattering into a million tiny pieces)http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/Tino.jpg.html?sort=3&o=0
Awful sketch things of even worse quality due to having been drawn in a moving train in pen
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/Awfulsketchthingies.jpg.html?sort=3&o=5
...and there is one more, but it would be a spoiler to post it now, so hold on for the end of the story ;D
Now, enjoy the actual fill!
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 1 [1/5]
(Anonymous) 2013-02-22 08:45 pm (UTC)(link)First attempt: A Fair and Radiant ‘Maiden’
Magnus had been overly eager in sending Eirikr away to gather “Firewood, or, uh, water, or whatever!” so it was only natural for him to be weary. Their jarl (how Magnus insisted to call himself; he was actually no one’s jarl, but, even though Leiknir did not fail to remind him of this every day, the man wouldn’t listen) was not particularly clever, so it hadn’t been hard for Eirikr to see that he planned some sort of mischief, and that he would most likely play the principal part.
He trusted his brother in dissuading him, but that did not mean he would let it all in his hands. Leiknir had his weird moments, too—and when he decided to tease him, he could be even more obnoxious than Magnus—so Eirikr sat in the bushes and listened to their discussion.
His brother’s voice was what he first heard, although the conversation had been going on for a while.
“…making him do these things, and he’s not even a man yet!”
Eirikr hoped for Leiknir’s sake that he wasn’t referring to him. He had lived fifteen winters, and thus was old enough to take over a household, or would be if they had anything of the sort. And he was definitely more mature than Magnus, so this was insulting. He would have said something, but Magnus spoke first.
“Exactly! Who’d better play the part of a woman?”
And that was even more insulting, but the loud ‘SLAP’ that followed made him think that his brother had already taken care of that comment. “What if he—what if the Finn does touch him, huh? What then? He’ll notice that it’s just a trap, and your plan will fail.”
“Nah, listen, he won’t. Your brother’s a smart kid, okay? He’ll know when to block him! Just, you know… a hug here… a kiss there… a blowjob there…” SMACK. “Ouch, okay! A, a handjob?” PUNCH. “Argh! I get it! Then he’ll, uh, get him platonically or something—the important part is that he gets him involved enough to do things for us, anyway, and Eirikr can totally do that! And if you—akk—keep—pulling—on—my—owowow—collar—I’ll—choke—hhhh!”
There were more sounds of Magnus gasping for air, but Eirikr hardly cared. So, what he had made out was that Magnus apparently wanted to get him to try his ridiculous plan of seduction on the Finn, and that he planned on dressing him as a woman.
Yes. As if Eirikr would consent to that. He snarled, placing a hand on his (admittedly not all that impressive, especially when compared to Magnus’ axe) dagger. He was welcome to try.
Then, of course, Leiknir had to ruin it all by speaking. “Haven’t you considered that maybe this will be disadvantageous for his development as a man? He is still a child, and here you are, telling him he’s a woman—what if he takes it seriously and…?”
Eirikr, unable to stop himself, jumped out of the bushes and said “I’LL DO IT!”, face flushed in anger.
Oh. Well, maybe that hadn't been such a good idea. Maybe he had let himself get carried away too far by his brother’s remark of him being a child. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken it personally. Maybe he should have waited.
But now it was too late.
His brother let go of the jarl’s collar, and the man’s (purple) face flashed him a radiant grin.
“Ha! That’s my boy!” he exclaimed, in his annoying shriek of a voice, “well, woman. Whatever.”
This time, Leiknir barely had the time to punch him as Eirikr graced their jarl’s crotch with his shin.
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 1 [2/5]
(Anonymous) 2013-02-22 08:48 pm (UTC)(link)As his brothers fought, Berwald contended himself to stare the Finn awake.
He was very, very good-looking.
He liked him a lot.
He thought he was cute.
His skin was perfect.
His hair was so soft.
He smelled so good.
His eyes were… oh, he’d woken up.
“Oh! You’re—right—there! Haha! G-good morning, Berwald!” he said, nervously.
Berwald tried to keep it casual; maybe he could put on an attractive kind of expression, or maybe friendly would be better in this kind of situation? Yes, a wide, kind smile would be the best idea, but wait, had he groomed his hair this morning? Oh no, what if he hadn’t, that would surely look terrible—ah, okay, he had. He remembered. What a relief. Still, he would have to do something about his expression. Frowning wasn’t a good idea, that would probably make Tino think that he didn’t like him, and it was quite the contrary, really, the Finn was so handsome and his voice was so nice and he could tell already that he was a good person, so he would have to get rid of his frown—wait, was he frowning right now? Bad, Berwald, bad, he needed to will it away, he had to smile, and, oh geez, he should probably answer him too, he had said ‘Good morning’ in that beautiful accent of his—and he must be so clever that he spoke their tongue so well, Berwald had never grasped a single word of Finnish—and one usually answered that sort of thing, right? He should put on an open, welcoming smile and say ‘Good morning, Tino, did you sleep well? I slept perfectly, because I dreamt of you’ and untie the ropes around his wrists so he could get started in the day.
Of the number of things he had listed in his head, he did an astonishing quantity of—none. He kept glaring at Tino with his brows furrowed, his mouth slightly open, concentrated on his thoughts.
Tino gulped.
After what felt like half an hour for Tino and half a second for Berwald, the Finn managed to speak.
“Berwald? I, um, I have to pee”
The sentence came so soon and so suddenly that Berwald gasped in surprise. His face returned to his usual frown a few seconds later, though, as he nodded and untied the Finn’s hands.
Tino didn’t wait a second to slam his head into the other’s nose and run.
He got tangled in the furs Berwald had brought him the night before—his mind barely registered that he felt a bit guilty—but the taller man was still clutching his bleeding nose when he tumbled forward, leaving a shoe behind in the mess, and he ran as fast as his legs would carry him.
He could see the forms of the other three, and the youngest one, the one with the bird, was pointing at him, and the one that looked just like him but older raised his hands and he could hear words and he slammed into something invisible, something that grunted, and he was lifted in the air by strong, enormous hands and then
Black.
***
He woke up to—surprise—Berwald’s staring eyes.
Well, at least he was getting used to it.
There was an ugly, purple swelling on the bridge of the man’s nose, but it didn’t seem broken. He looked oddly hurt.
Tino was about to greet him again, maybe tell him to go glare at goats instead or something, but a fair maiden stormed into the tent, pushed Berwald out of the way and sank to her knees beside him.
She was exactly Tino’s type: enormous violet eyes framed by jetty lashes, plump lips painted in the slightest shade of pink, fair skin that looked like it had never been greeted by the sun, a flowing dress that hugged her beautiful figure, a very ample chest within this dress, and long white hair that looked like pure silver when the light shone on it just so.
She was also obviously the boy with the bird, which was kind of a bummer.
“Oh, my sweet Finn! How are you?” he—she?—said, in a tone that would have passed as outraged or sad or scared hadn’t it been so plain that it was utterly bored, and a voice that was being pushed up a few octaves too many.
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 1 [3/5]
(Anonymous) 2013-02-22 08:51 pm (UTC)(link)Berwald stared.
Tino swallowed the chuckles that were incessantly threatening to build up in his stomach and chest and tried to bring forth a dizzy yet pleased expression to say, “Better now that such a delicate flower is greeting my presence and healing my wounds with her gorgeous fragrance! Oh, who are you, sweet goddess of spring and beauty?”
That was the cheesiest thing he had ever said in his entire life.
It worked like a charm.
The boy looked between dumbfounded, confused, disgusted and flattered, and his eyes widened a bit. Berwald stared.
Oh, well, that would probably never change.
“Well--” he had forgotten to apply the falsetto to his voice, and it was deep and male before he coughed in an attempt to cover it up and continued, in that obnoxiously high pitch, “I mean, well—my name is Eirikr…i… na… hild. Uh. Eirikrinahild!”
Tino had to pinch himself in the arm painfully so as not to cackle maniacally.
“Oh, what a beautiful name, my little flower! I am Tino, and I am truly your slave” he said, as pompously as he could muster.
Was this their plan of seduction? Really? Their leader hadn’t looked like a genius, but that being this stupid was humanely possible had been unknown to Tino. Well. He could at least have fun.
The boy—or Eirikrinahild, as he seemed to want to be referred to—seemed to consider something for a moment (Tino could only speculate that it was whether it would be acceptable to ask for his favour already or if he should wait a bit more), then took his hand and, looking at Berwald with what had to be the most mortified expression in the world, said “Say, why don’t we move somewhere more… private?”
He was obviously expecting Berwald to get the hint.
Berwald stared. Yeah, not so much.
Tino scrambled to his elbows, finding that, even though his head was pounding, he could stand on slightly shaking legs. Running was probably not a possibility— and he was sure that the grunting something Eirikrinahild’s brother had summoned was still around—but at least he could walk, and maybe get away from Berwald’s eyes for a few seconds (holy Väinämöinen, what was wrong with this man?).
“At once, my tender lily of the valley” he whispered, and the giggle ‘she’ tried to make was actually a very unflattering snort.
***
They held hands all the way out of the tent. Magnus, at one moment where the Finn wasn’t looking, flashed him a grin and an approving gesture, and his brother, while hitting him in the face, had an expression that was very obviously amused. Only Eirikr could tell, of course, any other person would have seen him as emotionless as always, but it Eirikr knew what he was really thinking, and it made him want to throw a rock at his face or something.
This was humiliating enough.
The Finn rubbed gentle circles on his hand, which he touched like it was the most delicate of treasures.
It made him want to wretch in a ditch, but it was also kind of nice to be handled with such care.
“My name is Tino, my shy violet” he said, close to his ear. “But you can call me Ti-ti.”
Eirikr shuddered. He nearly forgot his falsetto again as he said, “What a charming name! And how could I shorten it, it seems almost sacrilegious!”
“Oh, no, I insist. You can call me whatever your beautiful heart desires, but Ti-ti I see most fit for your clever little tongue to say”
If Eirikr hadn’t known better, he would have thought that Tino was making fun of him. But no, his costume was too foolproof (he had made doubly sure of it, because the humiliation of being recognized was something he knew he couldn’t ever bear). If his left “breast” wouldn’t keep sliding down his chest, it would be perfect. But he was sure the Finn wouldn’t have picked that up.
They frolicked within fields and Tino picked him flowers (“small sisters of yours that pale towards your beauty!”).
Eirikr blushed.
Then, when the Finn looked somewhere else, he slapped his own face trying to make that go away.
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 1 [4/5]
(Anonymous) 2013-02-22 08:55 pm (UTC)(link)“Uh” Eirikr said. To his great annoyance he noticed that the falsetto came naturally now, and that he didn’t have to think about it, “well… the big, annoying one is our great jarl, Magnus. He masters the axe and the war hammer in a way no other mortal knows, but it is known amongst us that the price he paid to the Allfather for this gift was his intelligence. The silent one with the, um, habit to stare is Berwald. It may seem that Brokkr the Dwarf sewed his lips together like Loki’s, but that is just the way he is; on the other hand, he is as swift with his sword as he is with his mind. And the fairest-haired, the one with the stern expression, is Leiknir, my brother. He talks more than Berwald, but the most he converses is with the trolls and huldras and nisse, over whom he has a power not many gods can dream of. He is our mighty shaman.”
Tino seemed to have made a note of everything he said, and for a second, Leiknir was worried that he’d said too much. Then, the Finn put on that love struck expression again. “Oh, but wasn’t there another one?”
Eirikr gulped. The Finn went on, “Yes, when they caught me, there was this shaman you tell me of… and another one, a child, with a face quite similar to--“
“That was not a child!” he screeched, falsetto and all. Oh, fuck. “I-um-I mean, it was my other brother. He is… um… gone fishing. Now. He will probably be away for a few days.”
That raised eyebrow on the Finn’s face. How could it look so insulting, yet so… so… attractive?
Oh. Now it was gone.
Eirikr tried not to think about it. The lovey-dovey expression was still all over Tino’s face as he etched closer, and closer, and…
Oh. Was he going to…? Oh god, he could see his lips, they looked so… so kissable… and the way he smelled, it was virile and yet sweet, he was so close now—Eirikr closed his eyes—and any minute now he would feel those lips and—
There was a slight pressure on his head, and the Finn’s fingers ghosted over his hair. His cheerful voice announced, “I made you a crown of flowers, my radiant daisy!”. Then he was lying at his side again.
Eirikr opened his eyes and could barely hide his disappointment as he touched the chaplet. Then he mentally smacked himself.
They spent the entire day together, lying on the field, and with each thing the Finn whispered into his ear, Eirikr found it easier to blush and keep his fake female voice in control and to giggle at his cheesy jokes.
As the sun went down, Ti-ti and him stood on their hill and looked over the beautiful reddening mountains.
His voice was incredibly sad as he whispered, “I know you are not what you claim to be, my tiny forget-me-not.”
Ungh. Shit.
“Wh-what are you saying, Ti-ti?”
“You are not for me. I have known it since the very first second I gazed into those gemstones you have for eyes.”
“But my sweetling—“
“No, Eirikrinahild, cease the tingling of those melodious bells that are your voice. Allow me to explain. I know that you are a creature of the forest, an elf, as your tales tell. I know that you are not human.”
“Uh. What?” was all Eirikr managed. Tino turned around to look over the mountains.
“It is quite obvious. The way you came out of nowhere, replacing the boy you said was your brother. He is not gone fishing—you are a changeling, placed in his stead. Do not try to dissuade me, for I know. I know that you are fond of me, my tolling harebell, maybe as fond as I am of you… yet I know too that it is your forest folk that sends you to lure me, and that you do not wish to do so.”
“But… but my Slav-shooting love arrow, how can you say such things?”
Tino shook his head. “I know. The makeshift covers your people placed on you are fading as night falls, my dear. The coal on your eyelashes is disappearing. The red on your lips has faded. And” he raised a hand in which he clutched a bundle of cloth, “you dropped this”
Fuck. Eirikr recognized that damn left boob.
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 1 [5/5]
(Anonymous) - 2013-02-22 21:01 (UTC) - Expand:D :D :D
(Anonymous) - 2013-02-23 22:33 (UTC) - ExpandA!A
(Anonymous) - 2013-03-04 20:26 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 1 [5/5]
(Anonymous) - 2013-02-26 17:47 (UTC) - ExpandOf Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2a [0/5- dem arts!]
(Anonymous) 2013-03-04 08:55 pm (UTC)(link)I also made the mistake (lol)of researching a lot, which kind of rendered some of my ideas inaccurate. Norway isn't a shaman anymore, but a Seiðmaðr (and you'll have that explained, I swear) and to explain why I had to write a lot more historical stuff into this fic that I had originally intended (i.e.: men weren't allowed to be shamans *cue tragical background for Norway*). A Seiðmaðr and a shaman are sorta the same thing, though, so Fin will mentally refer to Leiknir as a shaman ('cause the Finns had no problem with that sort of thing).
Okay, that being said... Here are the arts! Please open them when it is indicated in the text like this->[Fig. X]. I suggest you open this comment in another tab and then switch between tabs. Or, you know, just check them whenever you want, or at the end xD. I used this method because I felt that putting a link in the middle of the narration kinda killed the flow.
Fig. 1
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/OFTaSV011.jpg.html?sort=3&o=2
Fig. 2 the runes are just 'Magnus'.
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/OFTaSV014.jpg.html?sort=3&o=1
Fig. 3
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/OFTaSV009.jpg.html?sort=3&o=3
Fig. 4 NSFW looking, but it isn't. It' just that it's speculated that the Seiðr was a very sexual sort of magic, so... yay, a naked Leiknir! :D
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/OFTaSV005.jpg.html?sort=3&o=5
Fig. 5
http://s963.beta.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/P3040001.jpg.html?sort=3&o=0
...sorry for the massive Author's note D: enjoy The first part of Chapter 2!
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2a [1/5]
(Anonymous) 2013-03-04 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)Magnus was not a very patient man.
He had strengths—mostly physical, if not only physical—, yet patience definitely wasn’t one of them. They had all failed many times because, for some reason none of them could really explain, they let him lead, and he hadn’t been able to chose a proper time to attack.
It was probably that (beside his obvious lack of brains, of course) what made them travel in a tiny group of four instead of really having a tribe.
Magnus also had a tendency not to listen, or, what annoyed Leiknir even more, to understand what he fancied rather than what was being said. If one said “no”, it meant “Maybe”. If one said “no, I will not have sex with you”, it meant “I am at a loss with my feelings and/or prudish, so you will just have to try harder”. And if one said “I will never fucking ever have sex with you”, it meant “Come on, you’re almost there, big boy”.
Ugh. Sex. Leiknir wasn’t interested in the stuff. He’d had it before, of course—willing girls were everywhere if you had the looks. Yeah. It just… wasn’t his thing. And while the idea of having it with Magnus was not entirely unappealing, he…
Wait. Wait, it was entirely unappealing. He would surely be impatient and quick and loud, and it would involve having sex, which was kind of disgusting on itself. They would have to get all sweaty and dirty. Besides, there were things one just didn’t do.
One of those things was Magnus.
But his inner monologue was escalating quite quickly; what he had been thinking about before sex (ugh, sex) had been Magnus’ impatience and inability to listen, and how remarkable it was of him that he was allowing Leiknir to delay his impending… ‘encounter’ with the Finn so much.
Already a week had passed since the jarl had given him his ‘mission’, and he kept saying that he wouldn’t do it yet. That he was planning something. That the Finn would become suspicious if he started something so soon after his brother’s failure.
The day before, he’d just shrugged and said that he didn’t feel like it at the time.
His excuses were getting less and sloppier, and Magnus, for all his impatience, was letting him get away with it. Had it been Berwald, they would already have had a massive fight that would have ended in Berwald’s sword an inch too deep in Magnus’ abdomen and Magnus’ axe an inch too deep in Berwald’s throat and both of them almost dying if Leiknir didn’t find them, cure them and beat them both up again for being complete idiots. [Fig. 1]
(The scars on both Magnus’ tummy and Berwald’s neck testified that this wasn’t just a worst case scenario.)
But it was Leiknir, and if anything came close to physical violence, it were just his own usual educational slaps.
Eventually he would have to do it, though.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t comfortable that he could do it. Oh, he knew he could. He could be sensual when he wanted, could pretend to think like everyone else who actually liked sex (and again: ugh, sex); but in the end, the problem was that he didn’t really want to have it. It just wasn’t one of his interests, as, say, carving wood wasn’t one of Magnus’ (who had once had a carving item slammed into his chest, courtesy of Berwald, who did enjoy carving and had found himself impeded by an obnoxious, drunk jarl trying to pick a fight, which he eventually got. It was hard to say who had ended up worse, though, because Leiknir still remembered applying an ointment to Berwald’s broken ribs and wincing in sympathy).
As much as he had secretly hoped the Finn would escape (while still doing everything in his power to stop him), the man had ‘only’ tried four times since the minor nasal fracture he had given Berwald.
One of those times he had even managed to snatch Magnus’ war hammer and lift the thing; the look on the jarl’s face was one of utter fear, which had been kind of hilarious, until the Finn couldn’t hold it anymore and almost dropped it on his brother’s foot, which was a bit too close. [Fig. 2]
At that point the fun was over; no one touched his brother. No one.
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2a [2/5]
(Anonymous) 2013-03-04 09:02 pm (UTC)(link)Somehow, he didn’t think it was because in one of the attempts the Finn had tried to steal his sword.
The look of jealousy on his brother’s face at seeing Berwald practically snuggling the Finn annoyed him to no extent.
He sighed, deciding that he would start his advances on Saturday—the “laugardagr”, the day of the bath, would surely give him many opportunities to be sexual (and, albeit fearing repetition, there was still that echo in his brain of ugh, sex)—if nothing else, then to protect his brother’s honour.
It was currently Thor’s day. Two days were really not enough time to prepare, but he had been “preparing” for a week already. Oh well, it would have to do.
***
Berwald was rather happy when at Freyja’s day morning Tino didn’t startle upon seeing him looking at him as he woke. Instead, the Finn grunted and turned around, and if Berwald hadn’t been so happy at the fact that Tino was comfortable enough to willingly turn his back to him, he might have noticed him rolling his eyes. [Fig. 3]
But he didn’t, contended with that trust he thought the other placed in him.
Tino, on the other hand, had just about had enough. The night before he hadn’t found sleep thinking about ways to escape. Berwald’s eyes had been closed, but it seemed that each time he moved a bit too sharply, he would find them glaring at him intensely after so much as blinking; now he just didn’t care.
It was also a bit too warm and comfortable to think about scary things.
The press of the other’s body against his was a bit too much, though, and his eyes snapped open.
Last week, when the Viking had started to sleep close to him, he had wondered if this was their next attempt of seduction. He just knew that there were more coming: that Magnus did not seem like the type to easily accept defeat (or his own stupidity, for that matter), and thus he constantly expected one of them to approach him that way; yet Berwald’s actions were way too awkward to be even remotely interpreted as courting, so he had had to arrive to the conclusion that this wasn’t what he was doing, and thus, that he had absolutely no idea what exactly it even was that he was doing.
(He would maybe have been amused and puzzled at seeing that it was seduction what Berwald was trying on him, although it was for reasons unlinked to the rest of the group.)
The other’s breath was hot on the back of his neck. It was actually rather terrifying if he went with the theory that he wasn’t flirting.
Maybe Berwald was just misunderstood and in constant need of a hug. Oh, that seemed so plausible he almost started chuckling; but he couldn’t relax fully, and slowly pried the other’s arm off him to signal that he wanted to get up.
He had been on this duty when Eirikrinahild—no, wait, Eirikr now—popped his head in the tent and started to mumble something about getting the hell up already because there was a ship at the harbour and they wanted to sell them stuff. His face, though, darkened immediately at seeing their position, and Tino felt an unavoidable pang of guilt.
He had maybe taken things a bit too far with the boy’s feelings a week ago.
Tino hadn’t wanted to hurt him in any way; he had just seen an occasion to have fun, and no one in their sane mind would depreciate that, would they? But the boy had apparently become a bit too attached during the hours they’d spent together, and the consequence was a quite obviously broken heart.
Berwald let go of him and they both stood up and washed their heads and faces as was Viking custom. Tino found it to be an agreeable habit, and was quite curious what this ‘washing day’ they had been talking about would be like. He wondered if to them it meant something like the sauna to the Finns; spiritual cleaning as well as physical, a place of silence and rebirth.
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2a [3/5]
(Anonymous) 2013-03-04 09:04 pm (UTC)(link)(Oh. He missed his home.)
At the harbour was a small market. They hadn’t gathered much over the past week, but what they had, they were going to sell. It was mostly either hunted goods, things that Leiknir’s troll had found in the forest, or carved and manufactured crafts Berwald had made.
Tino was still amazed at how skilled Berwald’s immense hands could be. Even though the man quite obviously had to strain his view, which did not seem to be too accurate, he brought forth beautiful pieces of art.
Eirikr had Tino on a leash while the others sold their ware, being the only one not doing anything. Tino could maybe have overthrown him, but he felt a bit too sorry for that.
Immediately after joining the people at the harbour, Magnus had started flirting with the daughter of the captain of the newly arrived ship, to Leiknir’s great dismay; the shaman grunted and slapped the back of his head, but there was absolutely no way of denying that the girl did not seem displeased.
Tino mused.
He found it funny how, after spending a mere week with them, he new a lot about his captors, while they still seemed at a loss. Take, for example, their sexual customs; on account of constantly being suspicious, he had focused on that, and now thought to know what… floated their boats.
Magnus, as was rather obvious, swung both ways, just like the Finn himself. There was an air on him that just seemed to scream that when it came to sex, he liked both, um, ‘meat’ and ‘fish’, and damn him if he preferred either.
Eirikr, as sweet as he’d been dressed as a girl and as attached as he’d grown to Tino, seemed, possibly without even knowing it, to prefer the shy smiles of a girl to the rough companionship of another man. That is, if Tino hadn’t completely interrupted his development of a sexuality. The way he seemed to steal glances at the girls at the harbour made Tino certain that he hadn’t completely rattled his preferences, though, so maybe he did not have to feel so guilty. And, well, if Eirikr ended up being interested in both like his leader and his first love, he didn’t find anything wrong in that, either.
The creepy ones were harder, but he’d had a week to focus on them, after all.
Berwald, if he hadn’t completely lost his ability to judge people (and he was not entirely certain that this wasn’t the case, as Berwald pretty much turned everything he thought to know about the human psyche upside down with his illogical behaviour), preferred, if he was to continue with the food metaphor, ‘meat’. If he even ‘ate’ anything at all, that is. He was currently selling something to a fairly attractive girl, and his sentences were… complete, which was quite the accomplishment concerning this man, really—he didn’t once mumble like he usually did, and while the girl was not really subtle when brushing his hand with hers as he handled her his carved pieces, Berwald’s face didn’t seem interested at all.
He found this rather amusing. He knew the Vikings’ views respecting homosexuality (being the submissive partner was considered effeminate, thus weak, and punished). Then again, he could imagine Berwald glaring anyone who accused him of being effeminate to death. And, well, imagining Berwald as submissive was actually hard. (And interesting. Maybe.)
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2a [4/5]
(Anonymous) 2013-03-04 09:10 pm (UTC)(link)Well, there had to be people who didn’t like ‘eating’ at all. It was impossible to starve this way, after all, wasn’t it?
He decided, as the others returned with purchased goods and money, that Leiknir was the one least likely to be next luring him.
***
“I could consider this humiliating, but everything you do is humiliating, so I guess I am used to it”, Leiknir said.
Magnus looked apologetic. His voice was a tad more careful than usual; whether this was because he feared another punch or not, Leiknir couldn’t quite tell. “Come on. You know I won’t think you any less of a man, don’t you? I’m having you around and doing your magic and you know I don’t think you’re weak, right? Or unmanly?”
He didn’t slap him, as Magnus seemed to be expecting.
This was because Leiknir was thankful. He’d been an outcast before: people knew that he was more than just a Runemaster, that he could talk to beings no one else saw and practice the Seiðr better than many women. [Fig. 4] Because of this he’d been accused of being argr—effeminate, unmanly, weak, to sum up: everything their society hated.
Of course he had challenged his accuser to a duel to settle the dispute and prove his virility, and of course he’d won; yet even then they all thought that he’d won because of supernatural help.
The only person able to testify this or not was dead now, but it didn’t matter.
Then Magnus had come, heard about the Seiðmaðr in town and sequestrated him and his brother, who’d been but a child of six winters back then. The rest was now.
But he would be ten times damned before he thanked the man. He already boosted enough as it was, and Leiknir wasn’t going to give him a reason to love himself even more.
Tentatively opening an eye after waiting for a hit without result, Magnus said, “I, um, just don’t think he likes beards. And, and you know they grow back! You’ll have that manly forest of manly wire and manliness growing manly out of your manly face again in no manly time, man!”
He kicked his shin for overusing the term he was at the same time so blatantly questioning, but picked up the razor Magnus had handed him and shaved before the piece of silver the man held up for him anyway.
The air was cold and strangely silky on his face afterwards, but it was oddly satisfying to see his own face again.
Magnus complimented him in ways that were awfully improper (particularly considering the fact that Leiknir didn’t want sex) and that didn’t make the fact that shaving someone’s beard usually was considered emasculating any better. When he felt the other’s hands on his ass he was too tired to punch him, so he lamely stepped on his boot.
Tomorrow was laugardagr.
***
Naked.
Vikings.
Naked Vikings.
Everywhere.
Tino wasn’t sure where to look and where not to look.
Berwald, on the other hand, seemed quite sure of what he wanted to be watching, and that was Tino. He wasn’t even hiding it—by Louhi, this man was weird. Maybe it was Viking custom to stare at each other without moving at all during laugardagr, except he didn’t see, say, Eirikr doing anything of the sort.
If Eirikr stared intensely, it was only at his own washcloth and under no circumstances anyone else, especially not Tino.
Magnus seemed interested in looking, yes, but more so in being looked at; he wandered around, occasionally stopping to stand at full height and full glory in the sunlight, letting it cast shadows on his skin where it was rippled with muscle, running his hand up and down his chest.
Tino wondered why, if they did this every Saturday.
Well, who was he to doubt Viking customs?
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2a [5/5]
(Anonymous) - 2013-03-04 21:14 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2a [5/5]
(Anonymous) - 2013-03-05 07:56 (UTC) - ExpandxD
(Anonymous) - 2013-03-07 01:37 (UTC) - ExpandOf Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [1/6]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-08 03:17 pm (UTC)(link)Second Attempt: Laugardagr and a Man at a Loss II
Leiknir’s eyes wandered over his naked body in a way that could have seemed lascivious if Tino hadn’t been absolutely sure that they didn’t really care, but they fixed right at his face when he said, “I wanted to talk to you”.
The Finn sat down next to the naked wizard. “Then talk” he said.
Leiknir looked over the stream he’d been bathing in again, taking the washcloth and squeezing it over his chest. The water ran down in tiny rivulets, not unlike it had on Berwald a few minutes earlier; Leiknir wasn’t all that muscular, but his skin sure looked smooth. It was quite the sight, too.
“It is known amongst us that your folk possesses… powers. I know no stories of Finns that do not contain at least one powerful sorcerer, and I know of men who bought ropes tied to knots from your people because loosening these knots is sure to give good sailing winds.”
He stopped his words to glance at him again from half-lidded eyes, and in them was perhaps the slightest sparkle: Tino thought that maybe this subject truly interested him. Then Leiknir gracefully raised a long leg out of the water, stretching and flexing it once before briefly grazing it with the washcloth, still observing him.
He was good at this, but two could play this game… and Tino had no doubt that the one losing would eventually be Leiknir.
***
Berwald was a man of silence and few words and graceful, feline strength. If one were to compare him to an animal, the closest to him would be the great lion, an almost mythological beast only some Vikings knew of from travels far, far south.
While his eyes weren’t his strength, he had a mind sharper than ravenous teeth, unruly blond hair, a talent with the sword that compared to the longest of claws and a lean, muscular frame. He was silent as a stalking predator, breaking not a single twig and making not a single sound, reducing men with sharp senses to nothing but deaf and blind deer, wounded and crying and already within his jaws.
Currently, he was employing this talent of predatory soundlessness in spying on Leiknir and Tino from within the bushes.
He was frowning intensely, but that was hardly an unusual circumstance.
(If looks could kill, Leiknir would have quite possibly been feeling himself dissolve into a bubbling puddle of gore, and if looks could do other things, Tino would have quite possibly been feeling himself groped in inadequate places, but looks were just looks and the two of them were oblivious.)
Tino was, much to his dismay, smiling a little, seductive smile, and inched a bit closer to Leiknir.
Right above his head was a sharp intake of breath; he almost gasped, as well, noticing that Eirikr’s face had just surfaced above him with a quiet rustling of leaves.
“That little snake!” the boy hissed, inadvertently leaning his chin on Berwald’s head, but the latter was unsure who of them he was talking about.
“I was wondering if maybe you could…” Leiknir said, and to hear the next part they almost had to strain their ears, for it was said in a sensual whisper, “teach me”.
Even farther above his head there was suddenly another quick rustling of leaves and the weight on his head doubled, just as another, familiar and obnoxious voice exclaimed “Ha! That’s my Leiki, always so straightforward!”
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Above him, Eirikr took on his brother’s job and tried to punch Magnus, who swiftly dodged under protests: sadly, no one was as effective as Leiknir with him. He eventually shut up on his own as the Finn’s eyes quickly darted in the direction of their bush.
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [2/6]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-08 03:19 pm (UTC)(link)“Of course you could expect me to repay you” Leiknir continued whispering; then he stood up, exposing his wet, naked flesh in its entirety to them and the Finn (above him, Eirikr made some comment about killing Magnus if he felt something poking his hip) and positioned himself behind the latter, leaning down to gently rub his back.
Magnus whimpered softly, but Berwald didn’t think about whatever might have caused it and just focused on the way the Finn very obviously leaned into the contact. All sounds his obnoxious jarl may have made were silenced a few seconds later, anyway, when from within Tino’s throat came a sound so deeply obscene that Berwald was actually grateful the other two were behind him and had no way of noticing what came to say hello between his legs.
There was a moment of silence, and then, in an equally lascivious tone, “Harder”.
Eirikr moaned and Magnus huffed, but Berwald just crouched there, contemplating, trying to will his little Midgard-snake back to peaceful pants-slumber and failing greatly. Still, what upset him most wasn’t the uncoiling world serpent not even Thor himself could wrestle down, but the way the Finn let himself go so obviously.
Then, something happened.
Tino’s eyes quickly darted to the bushes and rested on Berwald’s for a second before turning away. The lust he was expressing so physically didn’t seem to have reached them.
He was at an absolute loss as of what this could mean.
***
Leiknir could hardly control his displeasure. Did the Finn have to make those sounds? Those bodily gestures? By the völva, this was too much. As if he was doing it on purpose.
But, well, at least Leiknir was obviously doing it right.
Very, very obviously. In one particularly violent moan, the Finn threw his head back and mouthed his name. Leiknir made a face that could have soured milk—only inwardly, of course—and tried to think about the advantages the Finn would bring them.
For a start, maybe he would shut Magnus up for a while.
He still had the suspicion that he had no magical powers whatsoever, which was a turn-off (not that he would have needed one, as the turning on in itself had never occurred in the first place) though, so he pressed further on his previous inquiry.
“Well? Will you be my… master?” he asked, pressing down hard on his shoulders to emphasize the word. He had the idea of submitting in such an obvious way from Magnus, who was into Leiknir acknowledging his authority so much that making him do it pretty much gave him an instantaneous boner (as he never had bothered hiding or just as much as not commenting with “Grrr, you make my Mjölnir spring into action…you know, just as Thor’s, it gets bigger if you rub it!”, to which Leiknir always responded by, indeed, ‘rubbing’ it—violently, with his boot, and just once).
…but he preferred not to think about Magnus right now, lest the Finn’s shoulders turn broader in his mind and his hair longer and his moans into his jarl’s grunts; it would make this even more humiliating to imagine Magnus in this position. Luckily, the Finn brought him back with a whisper that was very obviously not Magnus’.
“I would love to have you under me”. The tone was quite seductive. Ah, he was responding to his flirtations. He would have cringed if it wasn’t a dead give-away. Well, maybe, if he got him to reveal how to do the weather-trick, if he even knew such a thing, he could stop this nonsense before having to actually get down to the dirtier business…
Either way, Leiknir was going to kill Magnus when this was over. He was going to strangle him with the furs he wore, maybe press them down on his face to asphyxiate him—or, better, he would bare his throat and squeeze—like he squeezed the sides of the neck in front of him now—and then he would push him down—getting on his knees, like he was now—and then he would straddle him—close to his body, like he was to the one before him now—and lean in and whisper—
Wait, this wasn’t Magnus. Wait, what was he doing?
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [3/6]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-08 03:36 pm (UTC)(link)http://s963.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/P4080005.jpg.html?sort=3&o=6
He jumped up, cursing himself. For the first time in the whole endeavour, he had the feeling that he could absolutely not put up with this any longer: it was awfully humiliating, and, really, he hated sex, and why did he have to do this stupid thing when he’d much rather be strangling his jarl naked—
Where had that ‘naked’ come from?!
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And then there was the Finn, who had stood up after him and now asked him, “What is it, my underling?”, clearly enjoying himself.
Leiknir had always considered himself a master of controlling his facial expressions. Really, when it came to expressing emotions, he was so blank it was completely impossible to tell what he was thinking. This came from years of training himself to think that he already seemed effeminate enough—what with practicing the Seiðr and all—and that emotions would only enhance that misconception, thus mastering a complete lack of them whatsoever. In this, however, he had neglected that, while his face was a piece of stone, his body was very able to perform acts that might betray him.
Right now, for example, he was shoving the Finn against a tree with the intention of basking his head in.
Oh no. Shit. He controlled himself before launching the offending punch, instead camouflaging it as a straightforward caress to his cheek and down his neck and chest. Ah, crisis averted…
…or not, as the Finn apparently took it as a challenge to be rough in return; with a cocky smile, he grabbed him by the shoulders and swiftly switched their positions, pressing his back against the tree in his stead and pushing a leg between his.
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Leiknir thought he heard some kind of protest from a bush nearby, but his mind couldn’t dwell on it right now, instead shaking it off as some animal in the undergrowth. The Finn leaned in to whisper “Eager, Leiknir?”, as if he knew that it would piss him off, as if he was doing this coldly and calculatingly to amuse himself.
The Finn’s face hovered close to his, a moment too long, and it seemed apparent that he would kiss him, and Leiknir tried not to avert his face.
He would definitely kill Magnus. He would hurt him first: he would even bite him. Maybe, if the Finn’s mouth came down on his, he would imagine Magnus doing the same and how it would be to bite his tongue and…
He closed his eyes and thought of his jarl.
Nothing came.
***
Tino was so, so sorry.
This was mostly self-defence: Leiknir could not expect him to let himself be so obviously pushed against a tree without retorting, after all. It was just fair that Tino teased him and cornered him.
At first it had been hilarious, because, although the man’s face did not let on a thing, his body language made it perfectly clear that the entire situation was making him uncomfortable; right now, though, something was bothering him a bit too much. Tino didn’t want to end up confusing him as much as he had Eirikr—causing him harm was far from anything he wanted. He decided to continue their dialogue.
“Ah, yes, um—magic!” he said, attempting a reassuring smile that Leiknir completely missed because of his closed eyes. “Um, well—they say that when a little man made of copper rose from the sea and the Ancient Bard Väinämöinen ordered him to cut down the immense oak that obscured the sun after he turned into a giant, the tree fell and each of its branches grants him who takes it magic powers. Maybe you should take me home so we can look for a branch of the magical oak?”
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [4/6]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-08 03:43 pm (UTC)(link)“Uh. W-what?”
The Finn started chuckling. Okay, he would make Leiknir uncomfortable just once more, the last time—this one was just too good to pass up on.
“Oh, figures you don’t know—Väinämöinen! He was an Ancient Bard born from a super kinky threesome between the old virgin Luonnotar, who wanted to finally have sex, the Sea, and the Wind!”
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He could practically see the way the sexual imagery spread involuntarily in Leiknir’s brain, and used the occasion to stop their nonsense right then and there.
“So… you see that I am useless outside of my land, yes? I need to, uh, take magic from there, so it would be best if you just took me back in order to show you, okay?”
But something in Leiknir seemed to have snapped. His face was, upon inspection, blank in a different way than before—as if, somehow, he had just suffered some kind of overdose…
“Hey! Man! I just said something super important that could pretty much end this stupid plot right here—I don’t have magic! Hey, are you listening to me? ...Leiknir?”
***
Berwald wanted to say something and didn’t, but he never said anything, anyway. He turned around to see if his jarl had finally gotten that this had been a stupid idea.
Looking at Eirikr and Magnus, they both were frowning, just as he was, and looked equally concentrated. Then, Eirikr said,
“A… a small man made of copper?”
Berwald stared at him, disbelieving; hadn't he listened to anything else? He had thought the kid to have some of Leiknir’s quick wits, what was this?
“WAIT!” Magnus then blurted out, so loud the Finn immediately looked at the bushes again, prompting Berwald to try and cover them—but well, at least he seemed to have realized what their captive’s last statement involved. “A girl can only get pregnant through one hole. Does that mean they took turns, or did they both fit in her, um, axe wound? And—and were the Sea and the Wind people, or did she get it on with water and air? Because once a girl told me that if you shove water into the toothless-dwarf-mouth it hurts like—hey!”
Eirikr tried to punch him again, which was, sadly, dodged.
“Didn’t ya notice anything else?” Berwald said, slowly.
Magnus looked at him, puzzled; then he frowned, and pouted, “Yeah. The Finn pretty much assaulted Leiki and he didn’t protest! I-I mean, Leiknir is supposed to do the seducing, so why would he tolerate something like that?”
Berwald would have loved to guide his palm to his face and hit it until he was as mentally numb as the other two, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned to continue watching, leaving Eirikr confusedly thinking about what copper had to do with the ocean, and Magnus grumbling and pouting by turns.
***
A whirlwind of naked, writhing bodies passed through his mind, voicing cries of ecstasy.
There were thing he could never unsee, he knew. Right now, there were just too much of those things: the Finn’s naked body, his hands on that body, that body pressing his own against a tree; and somewhere, a desire—somehow, naked wasn’t such a bad word anymore. Somehow, he had spent all his life thinking sex—ugh, sex?—was a stinking, sweaty activity, and he’d just observed it calculatingly and coldly and always from afar, and now he’d been thrown right into the water.
From within, it wasn’t that bad. Maybe he could get used to it.
Then the Finn’s body morphed into a bigger, broader one—a familiar one, a willing one—and he wished it taught him how to swim, and he didn’t think about it coldly anymore, but from within the waters.
In other less fancy and cryptic words: Leiknir ran away with an erection.
***
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [5/6]
(Anonymous) 2013-04-08 03:49 pm (UTC)(link)“Bu… but what… I…” he stammered.
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Berwald hesitantly touched his shoulder.
Tino blinked at him.
“Oh, hi. I’m afraid I don’t quite get your, um, culture.”
Berwald thought long and hard about how to put in words that he knew—that he was well aware that the Finn knew of Magnus’ plans (but of course he knew, he was so intelligent, and perceptive, and smart!), that he had just been playing with Leiknir and Eirikr as well (that’s why he’d been laughing—oh, how adorable he was, how playful!) and that he’d just told them through hints (he ran out of flattering terms related to his thoughts, so he trailed off to and he’s very, very hot). He thought, and thought, and, unsurprisingly, what finally managed to come out of his mouth was a non-committal sounding “Hm.”
They looked at nothing in particular in silence, until Tino said, “Say, Berwald—can I finish bathing?”
Berwald happily tagged along, not even trying not to look at the Finn’s naked butt.
***
Back to their tents, Leiknir put his clothes on, but he still felt naked—and he liked it. He even contemplated masturbating, something he had pretty much never thought about before. Oh, wow. He felt great.
His brother came to him and asked him what was up, and he barely suppressed a supremely cheesy “my dick is up, that’s what”. Ah, that was something Magnus would say.
Oooh, Magnus. Leiknir bit his lip. Where was he? His eyes could use some of that rippled chest and strong legs—what was this sudden urge to howl? It didn’t matter; when he saw the man, he was going to eat that meat—he was going to be the Freyja to his Óðr (or viceversa, and gods did that thought set his loins on fire), and he was going to care very little about being argr or whatever and—
“Brother? Are you well? N-not that I was spying or anything, I just, um, casually saw that you ran away from Titi—I mean, the Finn, and, uh, what is it?”
“Where’s Magnus?” Leiknir coughed. His cheeks were turning red, and he licked his lips. “I need to speak to him”, he added, however not continuing the sentence aloud with about having him bang me against a tree like Ragnarök is tomorrow.
“Um. I don’t know. Shall I go looking for him? Do you want to rest? I… I know you didn’t want to do this, Leiknir, it was hard for me, too—“
“Yes. Yes, look for him. And bring him here” so I can seduce him like Loki seduced Svaðilfari. Well, maybe with less bestialism, but to fuck all the same. Again, he did not finish the sentence.
Eirikr nodded and, after putting on his clothes again, ran off.
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***
Magnus sat in the water and brooded. In a puddle nearby, Berwald and the Finn splashed each other like three-year-olds, but he felt no desire to join them at all. He was gloomily contemplating his reflection in the water, for once feeling not all that good. He didn’t even want to be naked, which was quite the rare occurrence, but he didn’t want to go back to the camp and bother Leiknir.
http://s963.photobucket.com/user/spg107/media/Of%20Finnish%20Trolls%20and%20Seductive%20Vikings/P4080015.jpg.html?sort=3&o=1
Of Finnish Trolls and Seductive Vikings: Chapter 2b [6/6]
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