Chapter 9

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A couple of hours later, the meal—a plain, hearty stew of meat and vegetables that, wonder of wonders, Kelis hadn’t turned her nose up at—was long over, and we were relaxing around the fire as darkness fell, mugs in our hands. Tea for me, and mead for the lucky ones who didn’t have to drive back over to the mainland later. Ian and I had been sitting side by side the whole time, our shoulders brushing as we ate and drank. I felt ridiculously happy.

Balder and some of the others had been entertaining us with tales of events they’d been to in the past. I got the feeling they’d all heard these stories plenty of times before, but were content to hear them again. The oral tradition, still alive and well in this little enclave of old Norse enthusiasts.

As the laughter died down after the end of his latest saga, Balder looked over to Ian, who apart from the odd murmured comment to me had been pretty quiet until now.

“Hey, Ulf! Tell ‘em about the time you licked a monk!”