“What’s to tell?” I spoke casually, internally scrambling to remember and rewrite the details of how I stole the letters from the sendlína.

Erik looked deflated after Njord’s evasive response, but continued under the norn blood’s prompting stare: “The lines are often out in the open air. You’d sway in the wind, too.”

“Not all of them. Some pass near brush no one is willing to cut away, what with the curse of the tree. And the wind’s not so bad there—” Njord didn’t look satisfied, “—but sometimes I tied a weight to the rope.”

Njord looked… well, not satisfied. Slightly less angry?

“Just whatever heavy debris was nearby was good enough. Drop my own line with the weight, it barely sways at all. Then I climbed down, adjusted a little, and started nabbing letters—particularly those intended for jarls”

“But the sender rings the bell to let us know a letter is coming.” Erik tried to reason his way out of reality. “If no letter showed up, we’d know something was wrong, and ring four times back to the sender.”

The bell he mentioned was at the end of another long string next to the sendlína, with all sorts of codes you could send by ringing long and short.

“I wrote my own letters and put them on.” I made sure to sound exasperated with a heaving sigh, just so they could hear how exasperated I was explaining every little thing.

“You can write?”

“Can’t you? You can read.”

“Well… I can. Not well enough to impersonate a jarl, though!”

“Impersonate a jarl? Why bother? There’s no way to know who is sending them. And it’s easy to trick them since sendlínhúsur are always run by eldhúsfífl.” I gave a sidelong glance to Erik as I said the last part. Annoyingly, but unsurprising, he merely laughed like an eldhúsfífl. “And the missives are easy to forge! I wrote a bunch for someone sending an important inquiry to the ‘financial advantage’ of the jarl concerned; asking that a servant of his be present to receive it.

Njord stroked his blood-red beard. “And no one was the wiser?”

“How could they be? The hálfviti manning the post rings his little bell to say, ‘missive received, the servant is here’.” I had caught Njord’s skepticism… but also his interest.

“So, the lackey sends the letter up none the wiser; right into my waiting claws. I tie on the fake message about a yard before the real one gets on, then untie or cut the real one loose. When I was done with it, I’d often send up the real missive and the real letter.”

Erik made me immediately regret admitting that last part. “Oh, that’s not so bad then!” He beamed at me, as if we were ‘friends again’.

Njord persisted. “And how much did you get from this?”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Sometimes silver pennies… sometimes terrible advice on investments.” And some things far too valuable to tell these brutes. “I did have ideas to kidnap a bragningsdóttur while on her way to marry a jarl.… but alas, I lack the connections for such a scheme.”

Birger chortled. “Or you lack the courage.” Said the Loki-thrall, protective runes scribbled all over his body.

“Oh, I have the courage… but I’m too handsome to die for nothing. To pull off such a task, I would need a norn with hair as red as the blood of my enemies, and a trickster covered head to toe in graffiti, and only the gods would know why Erik would be involved at all.”

I triumphed in the silence that followed.

“This bragningsdóttur, this princess… ” Njord was the first fish to bite, fittingly. “When were you thinking of abducting her?”

“By the letters I got, and what I heard from the servants… late summer is a good time to send your daughters off with a rich heiman fylgia.”

Birger whistled. “Good thing you didn’t throw him off the twig, Njord!” He snickered a money-loving snicker.

Erik looked dumbstruck (more than usual). “Stealing a princess, before her wedding…? Áfram! I’m eager to go on this adventure with you!” Erik was a simple fellow… I needn’t worry about him.

Birger was as smug as a mangy ca. “Not going to complain about poor mistreated princesses?”

“We don’t have to mistreat her… we’re just kidnapping her.” Erik explained.

Birger made a sound like a hyena, nodding in agreement. “Yes, just a kidnapping—will put some excitement in her life.”

“What does she look like?” Njord had been hesitating a while, before he asked.

What do you want her to look like?

“I heard this and that while investigating… and I got a glimpse of her.” I didn’t hurry to tell them, while they were so rapt with interest. “She had long, curly, red hair. Light green eyes like new leaves. Lips as red as rowan, and a laugh like the song of birds.”

“You heard her laugh?” Birger asked with unreasonable suspicion.

I retorted quickly. “Women are always laughing! They’re as bad as Erik!” Birger, and Erik of course, found this hilarious.

“She’s beautiful, then?” Njord was definitely hooked.

“Her face was like the moon, gleaming white. And her shape… well you can easily tell she’s a woman, even from a distance.” I wove the spell, Njord transfixed.

“In fact…” I continued, dangerously, trying to stop myself but unable to resist: “She looks just like your sister!”

Njord awoke from his torpor, glaring at me. I tried to smile in a friendly-manner instead of mockingly… then realized he probably can’t tell the difference.

“That so…?” He grumbled the words, half a threat, half curiosity. His scowl faded, though, and he resumed the mooning gaze thinking of the princess.

Maybe I just sweetened the deal?

“So I take it we’re all interested in this other venture?” It was time to swoop down for the kill. “Perhaps you’d be willing to invest your shares for a wealthier return?”

Birger drew his knife. “I’ll bleed with you under the bark of Yggdrasill again, if I have to.”

I chortled encouragingly, recalling the details of the blood-brother ritual.

“You’ll have my axe as well.” Erik nearly jumped up and down for attention. I nodded to him, and he practically glowed with satisfaction.

“We’ll talk about it more later.” Njord dismissed the matter… but promised to reopen it.

Good, that should keep him docile.