#fargrimr

[hysterialevi]

HELLBLADE 2 - Screenshots (1/?)

[sheigarche]

I haven't seen anyone talking about this here so I decided to bring it up.

Have you guys noticed the possibility that the draugar in the game are actually the tribe of northmen who attacked Senua's village mentioned in the first Hellblade?

I mean, they're not undead from the underworld, Senua sees them that way because it's her interpretation of their despicable actions.

But when she sees the sacrifices in Freyslaug, one of the Furies makes a comparison saying that what happened to her people was happening again there. The same modus operandi so to speak.

And, from Thórgestr and Fargrimr's reaction to the massacre, we can see that this was not a common behavior for other tribes. That was a draugar thing.

So the draugar are actually a tribe whose ritualistic beliefs was so far gone that other tribes began to fear and fight them off.

I don't think Senua ever made the connection, since in the final fights the voices kept blaming the Björgs for killing Dillion and her village, even though the other narrators clarified that it wasn't them in that case.

Maybe if there's a Hellblade 3, she can uncover that side of the story as well.

[crisicsgames]

HELLBLADE 2 NELLA FORESTA PROVA 🛑🤯 MENTALI ♾️BORGARVIRKI 🎮 XBOX SERIES X 60fps

[focusandthefuries]

The Unspoken Journey of The Northman and The Mad Woman: Chapter 1

Senua felt a chill run down her arms as her knees sank deeper into the rocky shore. Her head bowed in front of what used to be the skull of a giant. What once was a monster, what once was a man, now nothing but stone. He had paid for his betrayal with his blood, and the village folk had paid with theirs for casting him out. She hoped that he would rest easy now. That they would all rest easy.

She had dragged him from the darkness as she had done for herself.

The wind danced across her skin and she could feel herself slipping into the deep exhaustion that settled into her bones. She wasn’t sure if she had the strength to do this for another time, but she knew she had to find it anyways. She would defeat these giants, save these people. Stop the wicked roots that turned the Northmen into slavers.

She had to. Maybe then the ones she had lost would stop calling to her. She could atone her failure to them once and for all. Instead of death, she could bring peace.

She felt alone there amongst the jagged rocks. As alone as she had always been.

She knew she had to get up, the voices in her head were sure to tell her that soon. The stench of blood, ash, and the sea burned her nostrils.

You weren’t alone with Dillion.

Did he count for nothing?

Why didn’t you save him like you saved them?

If you saved him, you wouldn’t be alone.

Before The Furies could utter another word, Senua was shaken from her thoughts by the sound of someone fast approaching. A calloused hand rested gently upon her shoulder, and another one wrapped around her arm. She felt herself being drawn upwards. A touch with such tenderness. A kind she hadn’t felt in years.

She looked up to meet the eyes of a man she nearly killed a mere fortnight or two ago. A slave master. A man who ravaged her lands. A man afflicted by darkness, just as she had been.

Darkness

Look at his arms. Where is the darkness?

It’s there don’t you see it.

Do you see the darkness, Senua?

Where is it? It's vanished.

“It weakens you. Each death.” He spoke, his voice a deep rumble tinged with what sounded like concern. The observation, while obvious, caused a swell of doubt within her. She felt shame at her weakness. One so consuming she had to break away from his gaze.

Senua blinked slowly. The Furies were right. Where was the darkness? She noticed glimpses of it still, peaking just above the leather that adorned his forearms, but where had the rest of it gone?

It was his next words that caught her off guard. “Does it hurt you?” she glanced back to his face, searching his once icy eyes for any hint that the concern she thought she heard was misplaced. She did not find one, and simply shook her head no, despite The Furies in her head reminding her that she was, in fact, in agony.

The more he spoke, the more The Furies became active in her mind. They always seemed to, around him. She was becoming transfixed by him. The thin lines of ink that traced the features of his face. The strand of hair that had fallen out of place from the wind.

“Can you keep going ?” Her attempt at deception did not go unnoticed, though he didn’t fault her for her pride. “Yes.” She finally muttered. No more, no less. She was trying to convince herself more than him at this point.

A strand?

He was just in battle.

Only a strand?

Had he fixed it before finding her?

“I believe in you.” The words carried such weight that Senua nearly collapsed under them. He believed in her. Her initial reaction was to doubt, but here he was. All alone with her, standing at the grave site of the giant. He was the only one standing here with her. Fargrimr and Ástríor both nowhere to be seen, though she was sure they were alive.

This is..

Different.

This is different.

He is different.

Senua had felt it too, of course. Ever since he threw the spear that pierced Illtauga’s body and picked her up off the ground. He’d saved her then, even haphazardly standing in front of her, blocking Illtauga’s gaze, screaming for her to go. Why had he done that? She did not know. Days before he was calling her a mad woman for marching into a settlement decimated by draugrs. Had hurled blades at her. Yet there he was. Protecting her.

She was not used to being protected.

The emotion was still swirling within as they wandered off in search of the other members of their party. She felt sparks flying through her when his hand once again came down against her back. It could easily be passed off as a friendly gesture, but Senua wasn’t so certain that was the touch’s intention.

Neither was Thórgestr.

The air was thick between them, but not unpleasant. It took some time before the pair were reunited with the others. Fargrimr was found first. He was catching his breath, leaning against the cool walls of the cliff side. Ástríor was more elusive. She was found back within the confines of her newly safe village. She had helped those injured back to their homes. To their waiting wives and children. She then began a fire. Her village did not have much, but she felt a feast of what they did have was in order. For morale and to make sure the injured began to heal.

Senua observed her with a smile. Ástríor appeared so jovial, drinking and dancing with her people. When Senua first met Ástríor, she did not know if she’d be able to gain her spirits back. Senua had never been so happy to be wrong.

Ástríor approached the trio, inviting them to join festivities. Her eyes lingered hesitantly on Thórgestr. She did not trust him as far as a child could throw a spear. However, he had undoubtedly assisted her in slowing down the giant before Senua had done whatever it was she had done. So for tonight, he may feast. Though one wrong move would end with a dagger in his throat.

Thórgestr could sense the tension. These people had many reasons to distrust him. He understood that and did not push to be included. Instead, once he got his portion of food, he hobbled over to a fallen log at the edge of the gathering’s perimeter. He winced as he sat, the injury to his leg acting up once again.

There was so much warmth here by the fire, unlike where they were going. He wanted the bloodshed to stop. He wanted the tyrant to die; however, he did not want Senua to see the fate of all the slaves he had aboard the ship had it not crashed. What her fate would have been. To be tied to a post, wasting away from the harsh weather, damned to be ripped apart and consumed by a giant. He felt the shame clawing it’s way through his insides. He suddenly felt sick.

He did not want to think of the way she would look at him when she saw it. The mad woman. The one who marched without fear into battles against draugrs and giants. The one who by all reason and logic should not have let him live after his humiliating defeat and ships wreckage.

Why had she let him live?

He hadn’t the faintest idea beyond some mad plan she had briefly mentioned. If he had been the victor of the fight, none of them would be where they were today. He was happy he lost.

He had taken her from her home and brought her to this cursed land. Perhaps this was fate. Perhaps her coming across his path had been a divine intervention. A gift from the gods to guide him away the path paved with darkness that would surely lead him to the depths of hel.

He hadn’t wanted to be a monster, but he did not want to be eaten by one either. He had done what he had to do, or at least that is what he told himself at night as the screams of those tied to the posts kept him awake. They haunted him. Each and every night. It was his burden to carry alone. His father wouldn’t understand. His father would find it weak, and weak was not something his father allowed him to be. The björg were a strong people. Their strength below only the gods and the giants; and now, he pondered, below Senua as well.

His father had to see that, did he not? He was lost in thought for a great while until Fargrimr sat beside him. Fargrimr was growing on him, though if asked, that was something he would never admit. Though Thórgestr thought his counterpart initially to be weak and nothing but a pawn in his father’s empire, he had realized that he was wrong. He was wrong about many things as he had come to realize.

“We shall stay the night here. Health and weather permitting, we leave tomorrow. Ástríor has been invited to accompany us.” Thórgestr felt his eye twitch at that. While he did not blame her for her hatred, he did not wish to continue being subjected to it either. Despite finding the news unpleasant, he simply nodded, biting his tongue to prevent uttering any words that should remain unspoken. His eyes drifted toward Senua. A small, almost imperceptible smile graced his lips as he watched her.

Fargrimr noticed that had become an increasingly common habit of Thórgestr’s. He found it intriguing. A short time ago, if asked, he would have told anyone that Thórgestr was just as heartless and brutal as his father. Now, as he observed his unlikely brother in battle, he knew with conviction that was false. Whether the true Thórgestr had been capable of such tenderness all along, or if this transformation was yet another impact of Senua, he did not know. He knew from the moment his prayers were answered and she saved him from the draugr, that Senua would bring a great change to everyone she encountered.

Fargrimr stood after awhile, being beckoned by Ástríor. “Come. Our quarters for the night have been prepared. Ástríor has provided us with two huts. She does not yet trust you to sleep alone.” Fargrimr offered his hand to Thórgestr, having witnessed his limping earlier in the night. He could see the fire of defiance rising for just a moment in Thórgestr’s eyes. However, Thórgestr once again held his tongue and accepted the assistance up. It would be a long walk to where they needed to go.

They followed a few paces behind Senua and Ástríor up the winding hilltop. The huts were small, but they appeared adequate enough. When he was sure the women were out of earshot, Fargrimr once again broke the just barely comfortable silence between the two men.

“You have the most experience with our next foe,” Thórgestr was not sure if this foe being mentioned was his father or the tyrant. “so I believe you should share the hut with Senua. That way, you may more easily prepare her for what is about to come.”

Thórgestr stopped dead in his tracks. A panic he could not identify began to bubble in his chest. He felt his cheeks warm as a teasing glint made it’s way into Fargrimr’s eyes.

“What? Have you not shared a hut with a woman before?” The insinuation was impossible to miss.

“Of course I have.” Thórgestr sputtered incredulously, feeling anger and embarrassment take ahold of him. He was only met with a smug smile. Fargrimr continued walking.

Senua had already entered the hut before they caught back up to Ástríor. “These are the huts.” She gave one last hard look in Thórgestr’s direction before she turned on her heel and walked away.

Thórgestr realized he was suddenly standing alone outside his hut’s door when Fargrimr quickly wished him a restful sleep and entered into his own dwelling before he had a chance to argue about the sleeping arrangements.

He shook his head, not enjoying the path his thoughts were taking. He took one more breath and smoothed back his hair before he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

He told himself he was not nervous, though he knew that was not true. He had no reason to be nervous. He was not a child afraid to be alone with a girl. He was a man and Senua was a woman. One he was sure would not want him even if he wanted her.

Did he want her?

[yes-zero-x-gaming-love]

Lets Play Full-Game: Hellblade 2 Senua's Saga "Play Through" part 3

After Escaping From The Draugar, Senua Gains A New Company, Fargrimr, Who Tells Senua What Has Happened To The Village!!! Senua Leans That The Slavers Where Going To Sacrifice Those Who Were Captured To The Giants, To Keep The Slavers Safe!!! The Earth Shakes And Cracks Open, Where Senua Encounters Illtauga, A Terrifying Giant!!! After Escaping  Illtauga, Senua Learns That Hidenfolk Might Have A Way To Kill The Giants, But Senua Must Take On The Trails of The Hidenfolks, That Leads Into Underwater Cave, Where More Trails Remains And The Dangers That Waits!!! Please Remember To Press That Subscribe Button. Thanks For Watching. No Commentary https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lY9YP4ZSmgc

[specialofficerlemons]

I just watched playthroughs of Hellblade 1 and 2 and

1. I want to redesign the main characters with period and cultural accurate costume

And 2. I see everyone shipping Senua and Thorgestr and y'all haven't taken it far enough. Senua x Thorgestr x Fargramr x Astrid. I just see everything through poly goggles naturally- though this one would be on some Homestuck quadrant vacillation type shit

[brynnmclean]

Fargrímr Narration for Rauðhólar (3/6)

Someone very helpfully posted a video on Youtube of comparisons between all the Narrators in Hellblade: Senua’s Saga. Last night, I finished writing down all the quotes for the Others / NPC Narrators, for reference. Hope it is interesting and useful to other people!

Spoilers for the game overall, but all the narration quotes for Chapter 3 Rauðhólar under the cut (this is a short one!):

She could see the thread that binds the world. She could feel its hidden pulse. I saw it, too, but not as fine as she did. It was not strange. The women of our world, it is often so. They know.

-

She saw the giants too, once we had infected her with fear. But saw within them, where we could not see. Where they sprang from, all the rage and fear. It’s where we come from too.

-

She was the only one who could help us, trapped in fear. The world we knew collapsed all around us. But that wasn’t the worst thing. The world we chose to build from the ashes— we made it Hel. Dog-eat-dog and each man for himself. People dying every day. And we couldn’t see the truth.

Full List: 1) Reykjanestá [Thórgestr] | 2) Freyslaug [Thórgestr] | 3) Rauðhólar [Fargrímr] | 4) Huldufólk [Fargrímr] | 5) Bárðarvik [Ástríðr] | 6) Borgarvirki [The Goði / Thórgestr]

[hysterialevi]

HELLBLADE 2 PORTRAITS

[sheigarche]

All right, Hellblade Actors AU when? 👀

[hysterialevi]

HELLBLADE 2 - Screenshots (2/?)

[crisicsgames]

FINALE HELLBLADE 2 SENUA VS GODHI L'ULTIMA MENZOGNA BORGARVIRKI THE END 🎮 XBOX SERIES X 60fps

[crisicsgames]

HELLBLADE 2 GODHI IL CUORE DI TENEBRA - BORGARVIRKI 🎮 XBOX SERIES X 60fps

[sheigarche]

Okay, after listening to the audio files of the characters from Hellblade 2, I discovered many new details about the game, but there is one that stands out the most of all:

A entire character was cut from the game.

Senua would be able to save one of the slaves who survived the shipwreck and he would become a companion along with the others.

His name is Finn, they first met on the boat and he feels like a teenager by the way Senua talks to him and scolds him for disobeying her at times.

Although Fargrimr, Astriðr and other NPCs dialogues alludes to "someone else" with them, the only one who speaks directly to Finn, besides Senua, is Thórgestr.

One of the audios suggests that he attacks Thórgestr at one point, but is easily defeated/immobilized and only lets him go after Senua demands it. Thórgestr says the Draugar will kill her and her friend anyway.

And Finn is supposed to be the one who finds Senua in the cave with Ingunn's baby and they decide to go talk to Fargrimr about it.

Unfortunately, Finn apparently dies somewhere between Illtagua and Savájarrisi boss fight.

Since there is a line of dialogue where Senua was clearly mourning him, blaming herself. And there are no conversations with him after that. Neither in the way to Járnviðr nor in Borgarvirki.

So my guess is that Finn should be the person who dies in the raid in Bárðarvik (instead of a random NPC) and that's the reason for Senua's breakdown in that scene.

[focusandthefuries]

The Unspoken Journey of The Northman and The Mad Woman: Chapter 3

The shame Thórgestr had felt earlier in the morning had not completely gone away, but it had morphed into something much more complicated. Anger at Fargrimr for putting him into the position were that could happen in the first place and confusion an Senua’s lack of anger. At her lack of reaction at all.

He expected her to be angry. To be disgusted. To yell at him for the way his body had reacted. She did no such thing. She stayed there, sitting next to him for several minutes before they had redressed and made their way to the town hall. Or, attempted to, at least.

His leg once again gave out, and when it did, that is when he finally saw the anger cross Senua’s face. She rushed to him once again and helped him to his feet. He could barely speak when she grasped both sides of his face. Her face was so close to his, close enough that if he had tipped his head just slightly forward, their noses could have been touching. He blinked slowly, distracted by the way her thumbs felt tracing over his cheeks. His eyes drifted to her lips. Pale pink and slightly chapped. He would make sure to remind her to drink mead or tea at breakfast.

“You are going to see the healer.” She said through gritted teeth. “I will not allow you to refuse.” Senua was angry. Angry at herself for being the cause of his pain. Angry at him for forcing her hand in battle. Angry at The Furies for stoking the flames of guilt within her.

Look at him Senua.

He can’t even talk.

You cannot lead him into battles like this.

He will die.

He will die because of you.

Hot tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down over her face. It was then that Thórgestr seemed to break whatever trance he had been stuck in. Hesitantly, his hand reached up and cupped her cheek in much the same way she was holding him. With as much tenderness as he was capable of, he wiped the tears away. “Senua,” he breathed, unsure of what else to say. He wasn’t even sure why she was crying. He felt powerless. He did not enjoy the suffering that so often masked her features.

The moment was broken much too quickly for Thórgestr when Fargrimr’s and Ástríor’s voices were heard fast approaching. Senua had jumped back like she had been scalded by boiling water. He could not suppress the hurt that caused him, Senua could see it in the way his typically proud posture deflated. That too, worsened her guilt.

“Ástríor,” Senua, called, making sure her words would be heard first, before whatever she or Fargrimr had to tell them. “Thórgestr requires the assistance of your people’s healer.”

“The Björg deserves nothing from us. We have already done him a great kindness by leaving his throat uncut.” Ástríor's eyes darted to Thórgestr. They held so much rage that he was tempted to reach for his ax, just in case he might need it. He fought the urge, just barely successfully.

“Senua, I already told you. I am alright.” He did not wish to fight with Ástríor and hoped that his refusal would pacify her enough so they may get on with it. The more time that passed between their initial plan to go after the tyrant and actually getting there the more he grew anxious of what would be waiting for him when he returned to his home.

“Nonsense. I know that he is not viewed favorably by you or your people, Ástríor, but we need him. He risked his life to kill your giant. To bring me here. He wishes to stop everything you hate him for, but he cannot do that if he is unable to guide us to this Tyrant or to his father. Do you understand? “ Ástríor let out a deep, unhappy sigh.

“Senua is right.” Fargrimr added, glancing at the frowning face of his male companion. He found it curious that Senua was making this request, and even more curious that Thórgestr was trying to convince everyone he was fine. What had happened to get the fire in her eyes to burn so strong?

“Fine,” Ástríor spat. She was unhappy at having to help Thórgestr, but she was indebted to Senua, and if it was something the seer requested, it was something she would get. “go eat. I shall bring the healer after she is done with the others she must see first.” She stomped away, not unlike a defiant adolescent, intentionally catching Thórgestr’s side with her shoulder. His eye twitched at that.

“Come. I am quite famished. I am sure you two are as well.” Fargrimr smiled at Thórgestr as he walked past, only getting a scowl in return. Fargrimr noticed Senua’s watchful eye on the Northman, flinching every time he took a step that was less steady than ideal. Curious.

When the trio was finally sat at a table, provided with cooked fish and bread, Thórgestr’s sour expression started to relax. The food was cooked well and the bread was still warm. A hot kettle of tea was placed for them in the center of the table. Thórgestr grabbed it, pouring Senua her cup first, followed by his own, and then reluctantly poured Fargrimr one as well. He was angry at the skinny man’s trickery the night before, but he was happy to have spent the night in a woman’s embrace.

“You need to drink.” He grumbled to Senua. The corner of her lips turned up just slightly at the way his r’s rolled gruffly off his tongue.

It is poisoned.

Don’t trust him.

Do not drink.

She hesitated at The Furies words, but took a small sip after he took one of his own.

“Well then, have you thought of a plan.” Fargrimr queried.

“We did not discuss one.” Thórgestr interjected quickly. He was not keen to discuss what had transpired the night before. Granted, it was nothing scandalous or improper, but it felt too intimate of an experience to discuss so openly. It did not feel like an interaction with an adversary, nor did it feel like an interaction with an ally. It felt most like a night shared among lovers, though he was not sure if he was seeing more than what was there. Feeling more than what was there.

Thórgestr noticed the amused smile Fargrimr was fighting to keep off his lips and shot him a murderous look.

“I see. Did you rest comfortably?”

He knows.

He saw her on top of The Northman.

What must he think happened?

You know what he think, Senua.

Senua choked on her tea. Her companions did not have much time to fret over her as Ástríor marched into view, an old woman hobbling behind her. She must be the healer, Senua presumed. While the venom with which Ástríor approached with was obvious, the healer greeted Thórgestr with much greater kindness. She smiled at him, her grin absent of many teeth. Her hair was grey and braided. She reached out and grabbed one of his hands, pulling it up to her lips. She kissed his markings like a peasant would kiss the ring of a king. Clearly, she had met a Björg much more demanding of her subservience before. Thórgestr felt his guilt might eat him alive.

“That is not necessary…” He trailed off, but, she merely smiled at him again.

“My son was around your age when Sjavarrisi took him from me. You remind me of him. You have the same eyes. You avenged my son, and for that I owe you my deepest gratitude.” Thórgestr tried to smile at her in response. His words were failing him and he was uncomfortable. He was not used to being spoken to by the people of these lands with anything but fear and anger in their voices.

“What is it that ails you, my son?”

“My leg.” He shifted in his seat, pulling the fabric up for her to see the wound. “It was struck by the blade of a formidable opponent.” He flashed Senua a smirk quickly before looking back to the healer.

He hates you.

No, he respects you.

Look at him.

He will live.

The old woman hummed as she removed the makeshift bandage. “I can help you, but first, you must wash the wound with this.” She removed a bottle from the pouch that was slung around her neck. “I will prepare the ointment you need while you are at the bath house. You will need to rest here another day. I will meet you back at your quarters when I am ready.”

Another night…

Alone with him.

Will you hold him again, Senua?

Like you held Dillion?

“Get up, Björg. I will show you to the bathhouse.” He nodded and stood to follow, wincing slightly as he did so. Senua got up as well, feeling compelled to follow Ástríor wherever she was going to lead The Northman.

She wants to kill him.

She will kill him.

Will you let her harm him?

What will you do if she tries?

“Do you wish to bathe as well, Senua?” Ástríor questioned, her tone warm and concerned. Senua thought for a moment. The rain had washed some of the blood and grime away, but there was that which still remained. “Yes.” She answered, no more, no less.

Inside the bathhouse, there seemed to be two rooms that split off from the main entrance. They were separated by a thin wall, but there was no door that closed. “You may take one room, he may take the other.” Ástríor lingered after Thórgestr chose his path, grabbing Senua by the arm. “Will you be safe with him like this.” Senua swallowed and then smiled. “I will be alright.” Ástríor nodded and then she was on her way once again.

Senua took a deep breath and ventured into the room opposite of Thórgestr. It was small, but warm. There was no basin or bucket. Instead, a pit paved with stone was dug into the floor. Senua jumped when she heard the clang of his clothing and his sword hit the stone. Her face flushed when her mind wandered to what he must look like right now. She tried to ignore her thoughts as she too shed her clothing and stepped into the water. It was both deeper and warmer than she had expected it to be.

“Thórgestr,” she called out, her voice thick with what sounded suspiciously like desire to him. There was a pause before he responded.

“Yes, Senua.” He tried to keep his tone even.

“I…”

Want him.

You want him.

“Your markings. Did they hurt?” She changed the subject. She stopped herself from asking something she felt she shouldn’t.

“Only briefly.” He answered truthfully, confused by her sudden interest. “Do they bother you?”

“No.” She let the water flow through her hair before asking her next question. “How far do they go?”

“The only ones I have are the ones you can see. That might change at some point, but I do not yet know if it will.” Thórgestr’s sighed, swirling the bottle in his hand. He had a feeling it would not be a pleasant sensation, but maybe imagining what she looked like beyond the wall that separated them would help distract him from the pain. He uncapped the bottle, and did what he must. It was worse than he imagined. It felt like there were flames consuming his leg and he let out a pained noise.

“Are you alright?” Senua called, pulling herself out of the water, ready to run to his aid if it was needed.

“Yes,” he croaked. He too took himself out of his bath.

You would run to him?

In this state?

Do you want him to see you bare?

Do you want to see him bare?

She dried and dressed quickly. Upset and embarrassed at what she had almost done. She felt an attachment to the man. One she was struggling to admit to herself. She simply just wanted to make sure he was safe, but how she could have helped, she did not know.

“I am nearly ready,” He called to her. Taking that as his word that he was decent, she entered into his room. She was only half right. His bottom half was clothed, but his top was not. He looked from where he was on the floor, tying his boots. He was wide eyed and frozen. He looked so different from the menacing man she fought in the rain. Her eyes dragged slowly over his body, taking note of the smooth muscle and rough scars that adorned his frame. She was surprised by his chest. She had expected it to be similar to Dillion’s, full of course hair. She was wrong. It was much more fine, much more sparse. She struggled to notice any at all.

Her eyes then flickered to the caps of his shoulders before they rested on his stomach. This gaze of hers, unlike everything else up until this point, he knew he was not imagining. He watched her cheeks turn pink and then red, but she did not avert her eyes. He stood slowly and stepped towards her until the tips of their boots were just barely touching. His breathing had gotten heavier, as did hers. He felt a pang of desire, like lightening coursing through the blood right below his waistband. It was an intoxicating thing to Thórgestr, to have a woman stare at you like she wanted to see every inch of you. To drag her eyes over your body, like you had done to hers.

The air felt thicker. It felt warmer. Her fingers reached up to the side of his neck, following the thin lines of ink downwards. He swallowed and his eyelids began to feel heavy. Senua’s hands were shaking slightly as her palm flattened over his chest. She felt his heart beating wildly under her touch. Slowly, she began to drag her hand lower, feeling the peaks and valleys of his muscle.

The darkness is nearly all gone, Senua.

It is only in his hands now.

The tips of his fingers.

It’s gone because of you. You saved him.

When her fingers hit his waistband, they dipped just barely inside, pulling him ever so slightly forward into her. A low grown escaped Thórgestr’s lips, and his head rolled back. A gasp left her mouth when she felt him against her like she had felt him this morning. She felt the knots and the heat begin to form in her own belly.

You can’t have him.

You’ll hurt him.

He’s a Northman, you can’t trust him.

He’ll hurt you.

Her eyes fell closed as he cupped her head with one hand, tilting it back slightly, while the other rested on her lower back. He pulled her strongly by her waist into his body, so she could feel what she was doing to him. To feel how badly he desired her. The sound she made nearly drove him insane. He leaned closer, desperate to feel her lips on his. Senua could feel the warmth of his lips just above hers. He was about to close the gap when an unexpected voice called out from the main hall, asking if they were ready to meet the healer.

“Fucking Fargrimr,” Thórgestr spat, knowing the moment was ruined.

[focusandthefuries]

The Unspoken Journey of The Northman and The Mad Woman: Chapter 4

The walk back was silent, except for The Furies screaming in Senua’s ears.

How could you?

You betrayed Dillion.

He is a Northman.

She stole a glance at Thórgestr then, frowning at the expression he held. He was upset, but she couldn’t be sure if it was from anger or sadness. Regret, possibly. Did he regret nearly kissing her?

The thought made her deeply unhappy.

The healer was already inside when they arrived. She directed Thórgestr to take a seat on the bed. He did as she said. Beside her were a few different items. The ointment, proper wraps for his wound, and what looked to be a collection of different dried herbs. There was also a kettle and a basin of water resting by the cold fireplace.

“I have made more than what I will use tonight so you may take it when you leave. The ointment will sting, but it’ll heal faster than without. You must also drink as much tea made from these as you can stomach. The taste is bitter, but not entirely unpleasant.” Senua approached carefully, like a hunter not wishing to startle its prey. She grabbed the herbs with a nod at the old woman.

“I will start brewing it.” She was met with a smile. Senua returned to the kettle, pouring water in it and setting it over the flame of the fire she had created. Fargrimr sprinkled some of the herbs in a cup to help.

His relationship with Thórgestr was complicated, to put it mildly. He was once close with Thórgestr’s father, and had known the younger man for most of his life. Over the years, he had grown a sort of familial attachment to Thórgestr, viewing him much like the nephew he never had. Things soured, of course, when his father decided to take the island over by fear. Fargrimr didn’t hold it against Thórgestr, not like others did. He was just a boy, after all, when this whole mess started. However, he was a man now, one that seemed to be realizing the error of his ways.

The hope he felt when he saw Thórgestr, waiting for Senua’s return was immense. He knew Senua was special, and he thought that if anyone could return Thórgestr to the kindhearted boy he once knew from the coldhearted enforcer he had become in years of late, it would be Senua. Women have a way of doing that. Repairing what had long sense been broken.

These glances, shared between the two of them. Fargrimr recognized them. It was the same way he used to look at his wife in the beginning of their relationship. Equal parts fear and longing. He knew there was once a different woman Thórgestr had intended to make his bride. He did not know the exact details of her fate, but he knew once she was gone, so was the last bit of humanity that Fargrimr saw in Thórgestr. Or it was, at least, until their journey with this woman. He wondered if she knew how her presence healed pains and horrors so deeply seeded that Fargrimr once believed only Ragnarök was capable of destroying them. Everywhere she went, she brought hope.

“This tea, Senua. It helps to heal the body and the mind, but it does not come without some consequence. It can cause hallucinations. Distressing ones.” Fargrimr spoke to her, but his eyes did not meet hers. “I can stay with him tonight if you would prefer. If that is not something you feel inclined to help him navigate.”

His words hit her strong and fast.

He doesn’t trust you to care for Thórgestr.

Of course he doesn’t.

You wanted to leave him to die in the beginning.

Don’t you remember?

“I am fine staying with him.” She responded, pouring the freshly boiled water into the cup.

“Alright then.” Fargrimr hesitated. “His mother was a healer. I wonder if that’s why he keeps smiling at her, despite the pain.”

Was?

Is she dead?

Dead like your mother?

“Was?” Senua asked, parroting the question that was being shouted in her ears. Fargrimr hummed in response.

“One of the best on the island. Before the goði decided to conquer, all of us lived in relative peace. His mother would travel from settlement to settlement, teaching other healers some of her tricks. We were all better for it.”

Senua felt a shiver run down her spine at his words as memories of her own mother were conjured in her mind.

“What happened to her?” Senua felt she already knew.

“For a time, the Goði brought peace to the lands. Protected his people from any harm. But one day, The Tyrant appeared in the settlement. I was there the day it happened. Thórgestr was just a boy. He had been reckless in climbing a tree. He’d hurt himself, and his mother was doing her best to mend him, but he was in and out of consciousness. The Tyrant found them. By some miracle, she was able to hide him under some fallen branches before he struck, but she was not so lucky. He plucked her up, and then she was gone. I don’t think he saw it, or if he did, he wasn’t able to comprehend it. He was unconscious when I found him. It was difficult for Thórgestr to accept her death. He spent a long time denying it.”

Senua breathed in deeply. Something about that story didn’t quite sit well with her. The giant appearing from nowhere to kill Thórgestr’s mother. The Goði’s wife. The first one dead?

“You have known him for a long time then?” She was met with a smile.

“In a sense. Things changed after his mother’s death. In him and within the island. That is when the Goði started taking. We became estranged. This is the most time I’ve spent with him in years.”

That’s why he wanted you to show mercy.

To spare the slavemaster.

To save the boy he knew.

Does that boy still exist?

Not long after, the healer and Fargrimr took their leave. Thórgestr was sprawled out on the bed, attempting to focus on anything but the pain in his leg. The burning in it made his whole body feel uncomfortably warm and his leather felt unpleasantly sticky to his chest. He smiled at her, attempting to appear stronger than he felt in that moment. She saw through it like he had seen through her on the beach just days prior.

She lifted her hand to his forehead. Warm and clammy, it was almost as if a fever had materialized out of nowhere. She set the tea carefully on the floor beside the bed. “Do you want out of your armor?” He nodded his head, failing to find the strength to verbalize his answer.

Her hands reached to help him loosen and remove his top. She set it down gently before picking the tea back up and handing it to him. Reluctantly, he took the cup and drank it as swiftly as he could.

“Can you handle another.” She asked, sweeping the damp strands of his hair back against his head.

“Yes.” He responded, leaning into her comforting touch. His eyes were closed as Senua padded back to the kettle that was currently steeping the rest of the tea. She hesitated, taking one more glance behind her before she changed into linens that were much more suitable for sleep.

She grabbed the kettle and poured him another cup as she settled into the bed besides him, their knees just barely touching. The silence stretched on as he drank. He felt weak in that moment. Vulnerable. He knew from way she was attending to him that she did not judge him, but he judged himself. His mind grew more hazy with every sip.

Shadows grew longer, he felt dizzy. He blinked once. Twice. Then, he was no longer in his bed. No longer gulping down cup after cup of disgustingly bitter tea. No longer savoring every second he felt Senua’s leg pressing into his.

He was alone and cold, wandering aimlessly in near total darkness. While there was some light from a source he could not identify, he couldn’t see anything but the fog swirling around him. That’s when he heard them. The whispers that seemed to grow louder in his ears.

Horrible whispers.

So many voices, some he recognized immediately. Others were not as clear. Altered in only the way an old memory could be.

His father was calling to him, but the tone caused him great trepidation. He followed the sound of his father’s voice confused by the words being spoken. “When we had not heard from you…” , “simpleton”, “Souvenir”. They echoed around over and over again. Still, he marched on. He would be safe with his own father, wouldn’t he?

He kept walking until he came face to face with his father, or, what he thought was his father. The image was distorted, like a reflection in a pond after a pebble is thrown in it. The air had grown so cold, Thórgestr could see his breath. He could see the sword in his father’s hand, too.

“My boy. Why did you have to turn your back on me?”

His blood ran icy and then he ran. As fast and as far as he could. He was in danger. He could feel it like he had when he first came across that slaughtered village with Senua. He did not stop until suddenly he was no longer in the darkness, but falling through branches right onto the forest floor the had appeared below him.

The air left his lungs painfully and he rolled to his back. He stared at the light, scattered by the leaves above him. This time a woman called out to him.

“Thórgestr! Oh, my baby.” She sounded frantic as she cradled his head in her lap, “are you alright? What hurts?” He could not answer her, no matter how hard he tried. He wanted to lift his hands up. To touch the face of the woman peering down at him. A face he hadn’t seen since boyhood. He tried to blink away the tears he had in his vision, wishing to see her clearly for the first time in a long time. He was always told he looked more like her than he did his father. As a child, he did not see it. The sentiment offended him, even. To be compared to a woman when he was a man. As an adult, he was thankful for it because he liked to imagine she was still there with him, peeking through his reflection.

His reunion was over sooner than he was prepared for. He heard twigs snapping. He heard his father yelling again. He heard the hysterical way his mother kept repeating “no”. Then he was being dragged away and hidden in the foliage like a baby deer. He could still see her clearly from where he was as she dashed away from him. She hadn’t gone more than 15 feet when his father came into view. She tried pushing him away when he grabbed her arm but she was not strong enough.

Thórgestr felt a terrible wind, heard it’s howl, and saw it conjure what he feared most.

The Tyrant.

Thórgestr watched as his father forced his mother to her knees and pointed his sword right at her back. “Here! I have your tribute.” He watched in horror as that sword was plunged right through his mother. He didn’t hear a scream. He only heard a thud as she hit the ground. Then, he heard a crunch after the giant took her body and threw it into his mouth.

He felt his vision fading in and out. He heard his mother’s voice once more in his ears. “My son, you have always known. Haven’t you?”

He was floundering now. Drowning in the sea, his eyes stinging as he watched slaves and his men sink beside him. They were reaching out to him. Trying to pull him down even further. He was thrashing now, trying to break free from their grasp.

“Thórgestr.” He heard his name through air bubbles in the water and he saw the face of the mad woman, unclear in the distance, stretching her arm to him. His hand reached out to her, and she grabbed it gently with both of hers. He caressed it before her fingers wrapped around his wrist and yanked him up.

He once again felt himself falling, but this time, when he looked up, he realized he was back lying on the rocky shore where he had first fought Senua. He felt her on top of his chest, her knees squeezing on either side of him. However, when he opened his eyes, she was not holding a rock above his head, ready to end his life.

She was stroking the sides of his face, speaking softly in contrast to the yelling he still could hear in his ears.

“Thórgestr. I am here. Come with me, out of the darkness. The whispers, the visions, I will not let them harm you.” She paused, a tremor making it’s way to her voice. “Come back to me. I know what it’s like, to be trapped in the darkness, seeing all manner of horrors. I shall guide you to the light.”

They were no longer on the beach, but back in the void, surrounded by the fog. Their hands were intertwined tightly and he never wanted to let her go. The more they walked, hand in hand, the brighter his vision became until he was lying down in the bed, safe with Senua within the hut.

He was shaking, his words lost for what felt like the one hundredth time that night. She let go of his hand and threw her arms around his shoulders. Senua pulled him close. He collapsed into her, his head resting on her chest, his arms around her waist as they slowly lied down. He felt the shame crawl up his throat when warm tears streamed down his face and into her linen clothes. She stroked his hair and his back, whishing desperately to bring him the comfort he had brought to her the previous night.

Hold him.

He chose you.

You saved him.

“I have you, Thórgestr. You are safe.”

[focusandthefuries]

The Unspoken Journey of The Northman and The Mad Woman: Chapter 2

What is he doing here?

Do not trust him.

You must be cautious, Senua.

You must!

Senua’s eyes grew wide as she peered up at the Northman, confused at his presence. She hesitantly lowered the iron she was using to stoke the fire she had built, but she did not drop it completely. “Thórgestr…” she trailed off, not quite knowing what to say.

He noticed her shock instantly, and felt guilty at the fright he had given her. Was he truly so terrifying that the mere sight of him was enough to take away her comfort? He took a step back.

“Fargrimr told me I was to stay here, so we may discuss what is to come. Did he not discuss that with you?” His voice too trailed off.

He is lying!

Do not trust him.

But what if he isn’t?

Why would he lie?

“I am sorry. I shall go.” Thórgestr turned to leave, not wishing to cause her any more discomfort and wishing greatly to show Fargrimr what his fist tasted like. However, the injury on his leg betrayed him and instead of outside, he found himself collapsed onto the floor of the hut. No words could escape his mouth, only a series of pained breaths.

There was a loud clang when the iron fell from Senua’s grasp. She had moved to him with an urgency she did not know she possessed. Her hand reached to cover his. She squeezed them before prying them away from his wound. “Let me see.” She spoke softly, though it was clear her words were a demand. Thórgestr hesitated before letting his arms relax and his palms rest onto the cool ground.

He winced as her nimble fingers traced over the wound. Though it was in a much better state than the day he first got it, it was not fully healed. The gash in his flesh was large and partially scabbed over. Some areas were bleeding again, having been ripped open in his most recent battle. Despite the blood, there was no sign of infection, which was a surprise to both Thórgestr and Senua alike.

“Stay here,” once again, a demand. Senua stood and quickly walked to the edge of the hut. Ástríor had made sure there were fresh linen underclothes and a few spare tunics were left in the hut for her, in addition to a salve from the town’s healer. She grabbed a tunic and cut it into strips before bringing them and the salve back to were Thórgestr was resting on the floor.

He watched her silently as she applied the medicine to his leg, a deep unhappiness taking ahold of her face.

This is all your fault.

You hurt him, Senua.

Why do you always hurt the men you care for?

Are you going to hurt him like you hurt Dillion?

Senua fought the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She began to wrap his leg, as gently as she could manage, taking note of how he tensed as she went. She ran her thumb across the improvised bandage one last time before she retracted her hands. She could not bear to meet his eyes. “Why did you not ask to see a healer.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Do you believe these people would heal me?”

No, she did not.

“I am strong,” he continued. The corner of her lip turned upwards at the harshness of his accent. So different from the melodic cadence of Dillion’s voice, but endearing in its own right. “The pain is only temporary.”

He hoped she could not see the heat he could feel radiating from his cheeks. Every touch left him with tingles running along his nerves. It had been a long while since a woman had touched him so gently. Even longer since he was cared for by a woman. Sure, he had lovers, but they all seemed much more interested in who his father was than who he was. He could feel their lack of sincerity, so they never earned a permanent position in his life. There was one who he thought was different, but she passed on long ago.

He had came back from a hunt, hoping to surprise her with some brightly colored wild flowers he had found growing in the forest. It was he who was surprised when he found her motionless in his bed, surrounded by blood, and what looked to be the beginnings of a baby. His baby. One he had not even known was growing. He cupped it in his hands and cried harder than he ever had looking at the features that were starting to become distinct. He cried harder than he did when he was a boy and The Tyrant took his mother. To him, he saw his whole future lying dead and cold in front of him.

That is how his father found him. He was beaten black and blue for showing such weakness, though, after much protest, Thórgestr was allowed to send off his beloved and their little one in a burning boat rather than a pyre. He had been with no women since. His lamenting was interrupted when Senua offered him her hand. He accepted, and she helped him to his feet. She wrapped one arm around his waist and slung his over her shoulders. She walked him over to the bed and helped him lie down slowly. The exhaustion he had long since been fighting crashed over him like rough waters on a boat.

His eyes scanned the hut once more and he realized there was no second bed. He attempted to sit back up, but was swiftly pushed back down by two small, but strong, hands on his chest.

“You must rest . You said yourself our journey is long.” She stared down him, her bright blue eyes mesmerizing him. He took note of her hair; it was different. Her head piece was removed, as was the tie that held all of the dreads of her hair together. The locks of her hair had made their way to rest at the front of her shoulders. To Thórgestr, they looked like vines creating a frame around her face.

She looked beautiful.

His heart is beating so fast.

Look what you’ve done to him.

Your hands, Senua, why haven’t you removed them?

She knows why.

She became acutely aware that The Furies were right, she had not removed her hands from his chest, when he brought one of his hands up to cover hers. It was her turn to blush, though she could blame the glow of the fire should he bring it up.

“Senua” His voice was but a low whisper, and her fingers flexed into his chest at the vibrations she felt when he spoke her name. “It is you that should have the bed. You need to be strong.”

“You are injured.” She protested.

He began to argue back, but the words died in his throat when her free hand came up to his face. Her fingers cupped his cheeks and her thumb traced over his lips. Senua could not explain why she had done that. She hadn’t even realized what she had done until the Furies were screaming at her once again.

What are you doing?

His lips…

They are soft.

Softer than Dillion’s.

Flesh is softer than bone.

Senua did her best to ignore them, but she did not immediately move her hands.

“If you are so concerned, you take one side and I shall take the other.” She whispered . She could not believe what she was saying, but she knew from their time together that they both were equally as stubborn and she did not wish to argue any farther. She wasn’t sure she could muster up the words.

“You shouldn’t sleep in your leather.” She finally spoke, changing the subject and withdrawing her hands into her lap. She stood suddenly, meekly walking over to the spare garments once again. She grabbed a larger one for Thórgestr and handed it to him. She wordlessly retreated to the fire once more, her back facing him to give him privacy. Thoughts of what he must look like clouded her mind, though she did not dare to look behind her. She wondered if his markings adorned his chest as well. She heard the thud and clang of his clothing hit the ground by the bed.

It was a few moments more before he cleared his throat. “Are you…. Shall I turn away for you.” She blinked once. Twice. She was a fool. She couldn’t chastise him for sleeping in leather and then sleep in her own.

“Yes.” She breathed. She kept her back to him as she undid the ties of her clothing and swapped them for the remaining under clothes and tunic. When she finally turned around, his head was firmly facing the opposite direction, and for that, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Her feet were cold as she wandered back to the bed. When she slipped under the woolen bedding, she did not leave as much space between them as she could have.

Thórgestr did not complain.

Sleep came for them both not long after, but, the sleep was not peaceful. Thórgestr was roused from his slumber by the thrashing and whimpering of the woman next to him. The fire had gone out by then, so he was unable to clearly see her face, but her distress was evident. Most nights Senua was plagued by terrible nightmares. Her father, Dillion, the blood eagle, the darkness consuming her. Most nights she was alone.

Thórgestr wished he could take his sword and slay whatever monsters corrupted her sleep, but he knew that was impossible. Instead, he moved closer to her and tenderly shook one of her shoulders. She shot up as quickly as lightning shot down from the sky. She was gasping for air like she had been drowning.

“Senua!” He spoke, grabbing her by both her arms when she began to struggle, confused by her surroundings. “Senua, it is alright. You are safe.” Recognition set in, and she gazed into his eyes. They were just barely glinting in the moonlight that shown through the gaps in the ceiling. She fell sobbing into his chest, her fingers digging into his taught skin through the thin fabric he wore. He slowly laid back down on the bed, pulling her so she rested comfortably upon him.

He gently stroked her hair and down the length of her back, thinking of anything to distract himself from how vividly he felt every curve of her body. He consoled her softly and promised her once again that she was safe with him.

Weeks ago he tried to kill you.

He tried to kill us.

But now he is holding you.

He is protecting you.

He keeps protecting you, not unlike Dillion.

Eventually, they found sleep once again. Senua did not wake again until she heard the hut door close quietly, and Fargrimr’s voice murmuring something about her still being asleep. As she blinked the sleep from her eyes, she realized she was still entangled with Thórgestr in the manner she fell back asleep in. She was laying partially on top of him. She smiled at the way the scattered rays of sunlight illuminated his angular features.

She moved to sit up, her leg sliding over his lap. She froze when she felt it, and her face burned hotter than the fire the draugrs spit when a soft groan slipped past his lips. Her gaze lowered slowly to confirm she truly was feeling what she thought she was. She’d felt only Dillion in this way, and it hadn’t been more than a handful of times.

What did you expect?

Do you desire him?

He desires you.

Of course she does.

She isn’t moving.

She was frozen in place, but her blood ran hot. She felt a familiar heat. A tightness in her belly. As if he could feel her gaze, Thórgestr slowly began to wake. His initial reaction was to smile when he saw her soft face above is. However, he noticed her flushed complexion and followed her line of sight.

He quickly sat up, pulling away from her and the bedding into his lap. He didn’t know what emotion he felt more strongly. Shame or embarrassment. There was a prolonged silence and neither could look the other in the eye. When he felt like he could not take it anymore, he began to mumble. “I am sorry. It is morning. These things,” he paused, closing his eyes tightly. “these things happen in the morning.” Senua simply nodded. She remained silent for another stretch.

“We should get ready to leave. The daylight is upon us and we still need to eat.” Senua nodded again and stepped slowly to her leather. Steeling herself for what would happen once she walked out the door.