Chapter 99: Times Have Changed, Sidlipha
The year is 6232 of the Sixth Age. Sidlipha is 11 years old.
She practiced chopping wood with an axe against a tree stump.
“Your arm and the axe handle should be in a straight line,” Old Wilder instructed, standing beside her. “Use the strength of your forearm, upper arm, and core. Strike with all your might! Imagine this wood is your enemy’s skull, and cleave it in two!”
Sidlipha paused, then said, “But Asker said it’s unwise to directly strike the head, because the weapon might get stuck in the skull.”
“Who is Asker?” Old Wilder asked, surprised.
“Asker?” Sidlipha froze.
The name felt familiar, evoking a sense of warmth and attachment, but she couldn’t place it.
“Focus!” Old Wilder snapped, bringing her back to the present. “Strike with all your might! Kill him before his axe hits you!”
Sidlipha raised the axe and swung it down forcefully.
The axe bit deep into the wood, splitting it cleanly in two.
“Not bad,” Old Wilder said approvingly. “You have the potential to be a pirate.”
“But Mom doesn’t want me to be a pirate,” Sidlipha said. “She wants me to marry a nobleman.”
“Hahaha, naive Lisa,” Old Wilder scoffed. “What nobleman would marry a nameless waif like you? They’d take you as a mistress, at best.”
“What’s a mistress?” Sidlipha asked innocently.
“A pathetic woman who trades her body and dignity for a comfortable life, or out of fear of a nobleman’s authority,” Old Wilder said with disgust. “Sidlipha, remember this:”
“Even before a king, hold your head high with pride.”
“A true Viking bows to no nobleman or emperor. As long as he has a weapon in his hand, he defies all authority.”
“But you said before,” Sidlipha countered, “that it doesn’t matter if you’re a Viking or not.”
“Sidlipha,” Old Wilder said seriously, “I’m not talking about bloodline, but spirit.”
“The spirit of never surrendering, of facing everything with a sharp blade.”
“We are descendants of Vikings, yearning to reclaim the glory of our ancestors. One day, the Valkyries will guide our souls to Valhalla, to feast with our ancestors. Only then will you truly become a Viking.”
Sidlipha nodded, only half understanding.
She continued practicing with the axe.
Time seemed to fly by, suns rising and setting, stars appearing and fading.
Old Wilder left the village, his destination unknown.
Her mother, Sally, cursed at her, telling her to stop chopping wood like a fool.
The other children in the village would sometimes come to the woods, mocking her, calling her a “bastard,” “fatherless,” “the spawn of a pirate and a whore.”
Sidlipha ignored them. Her mind was focused on swinging the axe, splitting the wood before her, and…
…becoming a true Viking.
Suddenly, Sidlipha stopped and looked up at the sky.
At dusk, the horizon where the sea met the sky was painted red by the setting sun, the fiery clouds blooming like blood roses.
Cries and firelight came from the village.
Sidlipha ran with all her might. From afar, she saw Norman warriors, wearing nasal helmets, mercilessly slaughtering the fleeing villagers, looting their homes, and then setting the houses ablaze.
She rushed into her house and saw a warrior strike her mother, Sally, to the ground. Sidlipha raised her axe and swung it down with all her might.
The axe hit his helmet. The warrior quickly turned around, a cruel grin on his face.
“No! Run!” Sally, from the pool of blood, with a sudden surge of strength, grabbed the Norman warrior’s legs. “Sidlipha, run!”
Sidlipha dropped her axe and ran.
The sounds of steel hitting flesh and Sally’s muffled cries came from behind her:
“Run! Sidlipha, don’t look back!”
“Run!”
She ran with all her might. The Norman warriors noticed her, their shouts echoing:
“There’s another little wildling!”
“Don’t let her escape!”
“The lord’s orders are to kill them all!”
Flying axes and arrows whizzed past her. She ran, her focus fixed on escape, all the way to the pier, then jumped into the icy seawater like a fish.
I can’t beat them.
I ran away.
Can I still be a Viking?
With a sense of despair, little Sidlipha sank into the sea, the shouts fading away.
…
The light from the surface rippled above.
Sidlipha opened her eyes in the seawater.
She swam upwards.
Emerging from the water was the head of a 17-year-old girl. She was beautiful, with a straight nose, milky white skin, and almost transparent azure blue eyes. Her long, shimmering, light golden hair fanned out around her in the water.
A large ship was anchored nearby. Sidlipha skillfully climbed up the anchor chain and quickly reached the deck.
The deck was crowded with Norman pirates, all freshly emerged from the sea, their bodies dripping wet.
“I declare the winner of this underwater breath-holding contest is our daughter, Sidlipha!” Old Wilder, the ship’s captain, announced loudly, raising a mug of beer.
“Our daughter, Sidlipha!” Although they had lost the breath-holding contest, the pirates showed no sign of disappointment, their faces beaming with paternal pride.
After the pirates dispersed, Sidlipha walked to the helm and said softly, “Village Elder.”
“What did you call me?” Old Wilder frowned.
“Father,” Sidlipha said after a moment of silence. “I want to learn to read and write.”
“What do you need that for?” Old Wilder chuckled. “Don’t tell me you still cling to that ridiculous notion of becoming a noble?”
“The Vikings of old conquered lands and became lords…” Sidlipha tried to argue.
“The past is the past, the present is the present,” Old Wilder said impatiently. “Are there any Vikings left? From Britannia to the coast of Normandy, it’s all castles and armies. Where is there undefended land for you to conquer?”
“Times have changed, Sidlipha.”
“I want to learn to read and write,” Sidlipha insisted stubbornly.
Old Wilder paused, then said:
“We’re resupplying in Helsingborg and selling our loot.”
“If you want to learn to read and write, you can go to the municipal library there and borrow some primers. Of course, you’ll have to pay for the books and the tutor yourself.”
“Okay,” Sidlipha said.
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