During the course of the morning while helping the family with their daily chores, Leofric became more confident in his lessons with Ola. His new friend was very quick, and soon became immersed in the lessons in saxon he was receiving. Leofric wished he could say the same for himself--he found some of the sounds of the norse tongue to be difficult. By dinner-time he could reply in simple sentences to statements made by Ola, while the other boy's saxon sounded almost native. If only he had gone to the minster with me! Leofric thought wistfully. He would have made an excellent student!

Over dinner, which was again the thin stew and dark bread, Leofric assayed a conversation with his hosts. He made sure that Ola sat beside him across the fire, both for reassurance and to fill in where words failed him. It was plain that Halvard was impressed with his progress in learning norse, but it was also obvious that he was trying hard not to laugh at certain points in the conversation. At one point, Fritha's face reddened, and Halvard could not suppress his mirth any longer. Leofric looked to Ola for explanation, and found his friend laughing so hard that tears were running down his cheeks. Leofric began to get angry, but Ola finally stopped laughing long enough to try to explain.

"That word-set...it is, it mean...man has much...liking....I not have words!" He held his hand out before Leofric, fingers relaxed, and gradually raised his index finger so that it stuck stiffly up from the others. The look of horror and embarrassment on Leofric's face caused the norse farm folk to collapse once more into gales of laughter. Halvard handed the saxon another cup of beer, and smiled reassuringly; he said something too swift for Leofric to get any of the man's meaning, so he looked to Ola for explanation. After a moment, the norse boy translated.

"At home, as boy Vati learn tongue of Svear-folk...he call old man 'father of she-goat' instead 'of great name.' It good that man was quick like Odin All-Father, and not be angry with. All make laugh on it!" With smiles all around him, Leofric relaxed, and finally pulled out his harp to sing a short song or two.

When Leofric felt his throat getting tired, he paused, but continued to play quietly to himself. It was some time before he realized that the tune he had been playing was now something he didn't recognize, but rather one that Halvard was humming with rather good pitch. He listened closely, memorizing the alien melody. "Has it words?" he asked the farmer quietly. Halvard nodded, and motioned for him to play again. In a slightly bass voice, he sang the text:

"Deyr fe, deyia fröndr, deyr sialfr it sama: en orðztirr, deyr aldregi, hveim er ser goðan getr. Kine die, kindred die, every man is mortal: but the good name, never dies, of one who has done well."

Leofric sat stunned at the effect the tune had on him...he did not understand all the words, but the sense of the lyric struck him nevertheless, and he resolved to add it to his repertoire just as it was. He was learning that these foreign settlers in his country were more than just violent invaders...some of them, perhaps--he could not yet bring himself to say most--were honest hard-working folk trying to get along without harm to others. That night, he settled in next to Ola with many thoughts running through his head, which finally ceased when the chill caused the norse boy's arms to encircle him with their warmth.

Over the next three days, Leofric found his norse improving slightly, and Halvard himself was beginning to pick up some of the saxon speech from his guest. It was also obvious that Fritha was starting to slow down a bit, her time seeming to be very close now. The plowing of the fields was done with Leofric's help, and in addition to his other chores, Ola now found himself helping his father and Leofric to sow the seed for the grain crop. The weather continued to be nice during the day, but the nights were still very chill. At night, Leofric continued to sing, but also to pick up bits of song from his hosts. He found that the verses Halvard sang were mostly from the Havamal, or 'Speech Of The High One' which seemed to be a sort of book of manners.

With the sowing completed, a small respite was allowed, and Leofric found himself wandering about the farm in the company of Ola, each of them carrying a bit of bread and cheese. In a far corner of the wide meadow, he found traces of an old furrow, and followed it as it led through trees to a small stream. Near the rocky bank of the swift-flowing brook, he found a stone covered with runes winding snakelike around a crude picture of a tree. Ola smiled and traced the pattern with his finger. "Markstad Farm, Halvard set me up, son of Rurik, son of Isleif of Fjell." They followed the water upstream for some distance as the trees thinned out into meadow once more. Looking west, he could just see the house of Halvard set into the hillside.

Ola led him onward into the deeper woods north of the house, and finally pointed out another stone, just like the first. Leofric saw that a trace of furrow led into the forest, back toward the road, thus forming a rough square with it and the stream. In a small clearing in the forest, they sat and ate lunch, savoring the quiet of birdsong, and laughing at the antics of a squirrel as it searched for nuts and scampered from branch to earth to branch again. Following the furrow toward the road, they encountered the fallen tree which must have been from his first night at the farm, and Leofric found himself leading the way through its tangled limbs. At one point a large limb made a snakish hump which was difficult to climb over, but too long to go around; Leofric stepped gingerly on it, feeling it give beneath him, and then hopped down from the other side, while Ola decided on a bolder course: he sprang atop the slippery branch, striking a heroic pose for just a moment before the limb shifted beneath his feet. He gave a cry as he began to topple forward...and found himself caught tightly in Leofric's out-thrust arms against the saxon's chest. It was some moments before his breathing slowed to something near normal, and he could feel Leofric's heart beating quickly as well beneath his own shirt. Ola looked the short distance into Leofric's green eyes, seeing the fear for him still there, and something else. Ola smiled tentatively, and was pleased when Leofric smiled in return.

The norse boy stepped back and took a thong from about his neck, placing it gently around that of Leofric, who held up the gift for inspection--it was a token in the shape of a small hammer, done in silver. "Dear friend...always." he said when Leofric looked at him again. Leofric knew this was a symbol of protection among the danish, and the heathen seaxa as well. Ola was only an inch shorter than he, with brownish long hair and grey eyes...eyes which looked on Leofric with intense emotion as he awaited the saxon boy's next move. From his belt pouch, Leofric took something he thought never to look on again, but which had once meant a lot to him--a celtic cross cut with knot-work patterns on the front, and his name in runes on the back. His father had given it to him when he left to study at the minster, and Leofric had not worn it since the minster had been destroyed. Now, he placed the silver chain about Ola's neck, pointing out his name to his friend with a shaking finger. "My dear...sweetest brother." he whispered. He found himself smiling as they made their way to the road, and the short walk back to the farmstead.

In the night, Leofric found himself wakened by a small cry, and sat up seeking the source of the sound. He saw Halvard bending over his wife, wiping her brow with a cloth, and holding her hand tightly with the other. Ola sat up next to him, leaning forward so that his head rested on Leofric's shoulder, the better to see what was happening. Seeing his mother in pain, he sprang up wearing only his breeches, and asked his father what he should do. Halvard spoke quietly and firmly to his panicked son. "Water...hot, and some clean cloths...and some broth for later." When Ola had gone about this task, Halvard looked at Leofric with some worry.

"Her time was hard with Ola..." he whispered. "Here there is no...wise woman to help...." He turned back as Fritha gave another small cry, followed by a faint smile for her husband. Leofric stood up, pulling on his shirt and tunic. He belted on his knife and drew his cloak about his shoulders. He smiled grimly at Ola as he stepped out into the night, and hugged him close for a moment.

"I'm going to get help--I'll be back soon."