Ad Astra - 3rd Chapter: On Heavy Shoulders.
Title: On Heavy Shoulders.
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Iceland/Norway, Denmark, Finland and Sweden get a mention
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Summary: Let's go forward in time for a couple of days - we're returning to the girl shortly but before that, some decisions and plans for the future have to be made.
On Heavy Shoulders
The ships had returned for the night, laden with things they had managed to net on the lower layers. All the children and elderly had been moved to Iceland's ship that served as a Höfðingi for the others now. First of all the children had to be kept safe. Secondly, while the elders could really not be of much help at netting they could definitely look after the small ones. Naturally the injured were all here as well since the thin air down below could be tricky for anyone not in full health.
The rest of them, all of the working age and capable women and men, were heading to the lowest layers that their ships could sail every day now. The Höfðingi ship was laden as full as it could be with both people and rations and slowly, one by one, the netting ships also ceased their voyages as they filled up and became precariously heavy for cloud passing. After some quiet talks Iceland and Norway had decided that now everything that could be done was done and it was the time to return to the rest of the fleet. If their netting luck had been lesser than theirs they could fill up their ships and head back here for a new round while there was still something to net. Two, large worlds left behind a lot more than a single small one, so there was actually a good chance of that.
Everyone was at the height of their moods because of the good catch and no one seemed too concerned about what to do next. It was understandable. The people on board were not the ones who had to think up what to do next and could freely put their fates in other, hopefully skilled hands that knew what they were doing.
As for Iceland and Norway things went differently, but at least they had each other to lean upon. Iceland had, at a moment of quiet, brought up the topic of Sweden. Finland must have been feeling lonely and by now he should already be questioning what had become of his old - hm - friend. Norway remarked that by all reason he would by now know that Sweden was not among his fleet and would probably expect him to be on theirs. Telling him about it would be tricky though, since he would soon realize the state of the affairs upon their return, and he could not be allowed to find out about Sweden all alone or they were risking the loss of yet another scout.
Yes, Iceland agreed. And possibly he should be strapped down even so, before they told him, he added morosely. If only he was in better health, this would not make his recovery any speedier. If only there was a way of making him forget all about his - about Sweden. They sat a long time together in gloomy silence, neither wanting to say aloud the real word that would have better described Finland and Sweden's relationship. In the circumstances it would sound too awful to be heard on ship. On ships people were only expected to talk about things of little importance unless it had to do with the steering or the weather, and to leave the heavy topics on land.
For a while Iceland wondered whether there would ever be a moment when he could open his mouth without having to watch his words. What if all the worlds were now gone? By all they presently knew this was the case: as much as he had been scouting around the two sunken worlds he could not see more of them in any direction. He had tried to send an emergency signal but it had gone unanswered, which meant there really was no one within five days' travel to receive it and to reply to it.
Norway reached over to the side of the tent's opening. They were now in the scouts' tent, a richly embroidered, red little cabin at the end of the main sleeping tent with a heavy wall between it and the rest of the passengers. It was at the moment only inhabited by the two of them. On normal side voyages it held a full scout grew of five. Iceland drew a long breath, wondering who it had been who had stayed here long enough for her perfume to stick into the tent cloth around them. The scent was now but a faint trace but he breathed it in almost hungrily, thinking for a moment that the scout herself might come walking in to join them. The moment passed and she didn't. His thoughts had been but another mirage brought along by that scent from far, far back in time.
These tents were completely off limits for anyone but the scout crew and the Höfðingi of each ship. It was a place meant for private conversations about the route, the possible dangers on the way and the trouble that might arise on deck. This was the place where scouts decided on crew members' lives and, occasionally, deaths as well. Norway looked outside for a while before he pulled a cord, as decorated with gold thread as the rest of the tent was. Untying it he let the doorway blinds fall in and close them off from the rest of the ship. This was also a sign for the others on board to leave them undisturbed. Thinking that Norway had somehow, in that uncanny way of his, managed to read in him his hope of being able to talk more openly, Iceland fiddled with his buckles, not quite knowing where to begin. He glanced up and immediately regretted it.
Norway was sitting hunched up with a painful grimace on his face, his breath rapid and shallow. This was the face of a man losing the fight against his tears and it was so foreign on Norway's normally impassive face that Iceland felt horrified to look at him, as if the last stable thing of his world had been swept out from underneath his feet. Norway looked back at him now, blinking through the tears, searching for the right words with which to say what he needed to say.
“If it had been you - Iceland, you have no idea! Denmark's gone, and I saw Sweden go as it happened - Finland nearly died trying to save the last of his people, we carted him onto the ship at the last minute or - Denmark did -”
Iceland tried to swallow but his throat felt dry. “It's, it's not your f- I mean I'm glad you're around at least.”
Norway hiccuped, or perhaps he tried to laugh.
“I know it's not my fault. I know. Whole worlds begin to fall, how could that be anyone's fault?”
He stood up and tried to walk across the tent but stumbled and landed clumsily on the floor. Without a word he crawled the rest of the way to where he was sitting and buried his face into his lap, hugging his legs so tightly it hurt. Uncertain as to what to do, Iceland patted him carefully on the back, thinking how similar the situation now was to the one with the little girl some nights earlier. He decided to let Norway cry. The tears of one scout could hardly sink a ship meant to carry thousands of people but they could well drown one man if they were dammed up for too long.
Iceland ran his hands through his hair a couple of times before gently grabbing Norway's face on both sides, lifting it up and kissing him carefully as if not wanting to break him any further. “Don't worry”, he whispered, “we'll think of something. There's three of us and two can operate. If you want a break, just let me know and I'll tell everyone you're running a small fever out of flying too much.”
Norway pressed his head to his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“To think that it's you telling me that and not the other way around. Iceland, I'm a little bit disappointed with myself.”
This was Norway at his normal state and Iceland felt so relieved he thought he might float even more than what the low gravity allowed if he were to jump now. But instead of bouncing around he felt it more natural to brush his lips against Norway's head once more, a typical gesture of friendship in their world but now somehow a lot more intimate.
“It doesn't matter, Norway. We all fall sometime.”
4th Chapter: Conditions of Becoming a Scout.
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Iceland/Norway, Denmark, Finland and Sweden get a mention
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Summary: Let's go forward in time for a couple of days - we're returning to the girl shortly but before that, some decisions and plans for the future have to be made.
On Heavy Shoulders
The ships had returned for the night, laden with things they had managed to net on the lower layers. All the children and elderly had been moved to Iceland's ship that served as a Höfðingi for the others now. First of all the children had to be kept safe. Secondly, while the elders could really not be of much help at netting they could definitely look after the small ones. Naturally the injured were all here as well since the thin air down below could be tricky for anyone not in full health.
The rest of them, all of the working age and capable women and men, were heading to the lowest layers that their ships could sail every day now. The Höfðingi ship was laden as full as it could be with both people and rations and slowly, one by one, the netting ships also ceased their voyages as they filled up and became precariously heavy for cloud passing. After some quiet talks Iceland and Norway had decided that now everything that could be done was done and it was the time to return to the rest of the fleet. If their netting luck had been lesser than theirs they could fill up their ships and head back here for a new round while there was still something to net. Two, large worlds left behind a lot more than a single small one, so there was actually a good chance of that.
Everyone was at the height of their moods because of the good catch and no one seemed too concerned about what to do next. It was understandable. The people on board were not the ones who had to think up what to do next and could freely put their fates in other, hopefully skilled hands that knew what they were doing.
As for Iceland and Norway things went differently, but at least they had each other to lean upon. Iceland had, at a moment of quiet, brought up the topic of Sweden. Finland must have been feeling lonely and by now he should already be questioning what had become of his old - hm - friend. Norway remarked that by all reason he would by now know that Sweden was not among his fleet and would probably expect him to be on theirs. Telling him about it would be tricky though, since he would soon realize the state of the affairs upon their return, and he could not be allowed to find out about Sweden all alone or they were risking the loss of yet another scout.
Yes, Iceland agreed. And possibly he should be strapped down even so, before they told him, he added morosely. If only he was in better health, this would not make his recovery any speedier. If only there was a way of making him forget all about his - about Sweden. They sat a long time together in gloomy silence, neither wanting to say aloud the real word that would have better described Finland and Sweden's relationship. In the circumstances it would sound too awful to be heard on ship. On ships people were only expected to talk about things of little importance unless it had to do with the steering or the weather, and to leave the heavy topics on land.
For a while Iceland wondered whether there would ever be a moment when he could open his mouth without having to watch his words. What if all the worlds were now gone? By all they presently knew this was the case: as much as he had been scouting around the two sunken worlds he could not see more of them in any direction. He had tried to send an emergency signal but it had gone unanswered, which meant there really was no one within five days' travel to receive it and to reply to it.
Norway reached over to the side of the tent's opening. They were now in the scouts' tent, a richly embroidered, red little cabin at the end of the main sleeping tent with a heavy wall between it and the rest of the passengers. It was at the moment only inhabited by the two of them. On normal side voyages it held a full scout grew of five. Iceland drew a long breath, wondering who it had been who had stayed here long enough for her perfume to stick into the tent cloth around them. The scent was now but a faint trace but he breathed it in almost hungrily, thinking for a moment that the scout herself might come walking in to join them. The moment passed and she didn't. His thoughts had been but another mirage brought along by that scent from far, far back in time.
These tents were completely off limits for anyone but the scout crew and the Höfðingi of each ship. It was a place meant for private conversations about the route, the possible dangers on the way and the trouble that might arise on deck. This was the place where scouts decided on crew members' lives and, occasionally, deaths as well. Norway looked outside for a while before he pulled a cord, as decorated with gold thread as the rest of the tent was. Untying it he let the doorway blinds fall in and close them off from the rest of the ship. This was also a sign for the others on board to leave them undisturbed. Thinking that Norway had somehow, in that uncanny way of his, managed to read in him his hope of being able to talk more openly, Iceland fiddled with his buckles, not quite knowing where to begin. He glanced up and immediately regretted it.
Norway was sitting hunched up with a painful grimace on his face, his breath rapid and shallow. This was the face of a man losing the fight against his tears and it was so foreign on Norway's normally impassive face that Iceland felt horrified to look at him, as if the last stable thing of his world had been swept out from underneath his feet. Norway looked back at him now, blinking through the tears, searching for the right words with which to say what he needed to say.
“If it had been you - Iceland, you have no idea! Denmark's gone, and I saw Sweden go as it happened - Finland nearly died trying to save the last of his people, we carted him onto the ship at the last minute or - Denmark did -”
Iceland tried to swallow but his throat felt dry. “It's, it's not your f- I mean I'm glad you're around at least.”
Norway hiccuped, or perhaps he tried to laugh.
“I know it's not my fault. I know. Whole worlds begin to fall, how could that be anyone's fault?”
He stood up and tried to walk across the tent but stumbled and landed clumsily on the floor. Without a word he crawled the rest of the way to where he was sitting and buried his face into his lap, hugging his legs so tightly it hurt. Uncertain as to what to do, Iceland patted him carefully on the back, thinking how similar the situation now was to the one with the little girl some nights earlier. He decided to let Norway cry. The tears of one scout could hardly sink a ship meant to carry thousands of people but they could well drown one man if they were dammed up for too long.
Iceland ran his hands through his hair a couple of times before gently grabbing Norway's face on both sides, lifting it up and kissing him carefully as if not wanting to break him any further. “Don't worry”, he whispered, “we'll think of something. There's three of us and two can operate. If you want a break, just let me know and I'll tell everyone you're running a small fever out of flying too much.”
Norway pressed his head to his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“To think that it's you telling me that and not the other way around. Iceland, I'm a little bit disappointed with myself.”
This was Norway at his normal state and Iceland felt so relieved he thought he might float even more than what the low gravity allowed if he were to jump now. But instead of bouncing around he felt it more natural to brush his lips against Norway's head once more, a typical gesture of friendship in their world but now somehow a lot more intimate.
“It doesn't matter, Norway. We all fall sometime.”
4th Chapter: Conditions of Becoming a Scout.