Blót in the back

[hellomajortom]

The goats in the hotel had nearly sent Tom into a downward spiral. Especially, when Vars informed him, they were going to slaughter them in a bathtub and start a bonfire on one of the balconies. It had taken time for the ex-astronaut to discover what was going on. Apparently, the twins were somehow at fault for this by putting the idea of a full Blót into Aarne’s mind at some point. He wasn’t particularly surprised by that part though he was surprised that they thought they could get away with this without him finding out. Aarne’s innocent look when questioned about starting a fire had the Fin glancing at Viktor and Tom shaking his head. Of course, the Brit singer would be the one to start the fire.

Tom had eventually given up and decided the best course of action was to direct, rather than try to deter, the Scandinavians from the task they were set on. He put a hold on the whole outer patio, thankfully fenced in with a high privacy fence, with the hotel to be theirs, undisturbed for two days. The musicians knowing, they would have to clean the place and return it to the state it was when they rented it. It was the only way Tom could imagine keeping this in some kind of control. Controlled and directed chaos was what the Brit did best these days. He watched them clear out all the furniture and tables. Things were getting strange, at least to Tom. He kept hearing chanting and saw more knives than he knew the musicians were traveling with. He did know about the traditional instruments and was less surprised to see those.

Music was forgotten which was an odd thing on the tour, to the point Ziggy postponed two tour dates to later in the month. Everyone threw themselves into some part of it, at least all the Scandinavians, and they dragged along their non-Nordic partners. There was cooking and prepping. The three goats housed out in the patio were tended to like royalty, fed apples and groomed all day. Tom wasn’t sure what to make of all of this though he did set out to ensure there was a proper iron firepit. Maybe not proper to the Nordic traditions but one to keep the fire from spreading across the patio. All he needed was Viktor to throw something flammable in it and set the whole side of the hotel alite. He had seen Rik teaching some how to sing and then watched as Ollie and Torden took turns slowly hand carving a large wooden bowl. Tom had no idea what any of this was for, but his sweet tooth told him the food smelled amazing. Omenakakku and Æblekage, Finnish and Danish respectively, were the sweets he kept smelling that made his stomach rumble. Tom loved apple pie and just how this was described to him sounded even better.

He was fascinated and worried in equal measures. Worried the hotel was about to be set on fire. Not to mention having to pull a tight noose to keep unwanted press out of the way. Damien ended up on paparazzi patrol. It was well into the night when he saw Aarne in full face paint and some antlered headpiece. Tom knew that things were happening. He was curious, it outweighed all of his reservations. Tom had once been a very devout Christian, funny how nearly dying in space had changed that. His wife had changed his perspective even further. That spiritual void only fueled the curiosity.

He wasn’t sure what to expect when he stepped out on that patio, but it felt like he had walked on to a movie set or stepped into the past. Most of the Scandinavians had at least partial traditional gear on or something that blended the two like Var’s long punk leather jacket with the fur collar and studs, the huge wolf painted on the back obviously Fenrir. Even Tom knew that now when he saw the broken chain hanging off the shoulders. It was nice to see Rik on the harp again. The music was soothing but noticing the pile of axes and the wooden target Tom knew this would get rowdy as the night went on. There was a table laid out with sweets and vegetables, but the selection of knives caught his attention. He wondered if Rekker was around and wondered if someone should watch the Brit. Maybe the situation would keep his hands off the blades. The variety of apples was incomprehensible but he had heard talk of some goddess of youth and apples. At least the apples made sense and the whispers that Mikkel would lead this Blót. The youngest for a celebration of youth wasn’t a hard connection to make even if he didn’t have much understanding of the intricacies of the religions or this event.

He wasn’t expecting to see Dee all painted up with her hair in braids, apparently in charge of sharpening the knives. After some thought he remembered that she was some sort of pagan, Wiccan he thought or one of the modern branches. He noticed Aarne and Mikkel with the goats, singing to them. Why that seemed the strangest in this whole landscape of new situations, Tom couldn’t pinpoint, though he wasn’t surprised at all to see Thomas in the background wide eyed and watching. Thomas was obsessed with human culture, and this was a chance to see it firsthand. The Anthean would never pass that up.

The patio went silent all the sudden, in unison, and it startled Tom, as an outsider with no true understanding of what the night would entail. Tom looked around for what was happening but noticed that every eye was on the two with the goats. Mikkel was singing in Danish that Tom couldn’t understand. He had a good handle on Swedish but hadn’t even started Danish yet. However, he didn’t miss the knife being passed around nor the bowl of water out of which everyone was washing their face. He hesitated and glanced at Raev beside him, who was offering him the two items.

“Witness the sharpness and cleanse your face.” He instructed quietly. It wasn’t appropriate to talk, or that was what Tom gathered from the situation. He felt like a child where everyone else knew what they were doing, and he didn’t. Being the oldest in the group, aside from the Antheans, the role reversal put him ill at ease. The ex-astronaut was rarely in a place where he was completely clueless.

Tom took the knife and wondered what to do, he ran his thumb on the cutting edge just like he would test a kitchen knife. He had no idea if that was the right thing to do but no one said anything. He then splashed the water on his face and handed both things off to the next person. Tom was counting musicians and noticed everyone was around, including Ziggy and he swore he saw the twins in the hotel earlier. Isamu better be here if he was the one that started this trajectory.

The knife made its way to Aarne who spoke in Finnish to Mikkel, a language Tom knew even less about. Mikkel responded in Danish and then took the knife while Aarne picked up that wooden bowl that he had seen the Vestergaard brothers making the day before. The way he held it out and Mikkel squatted with the goat Tom knew what was coming. The knife cut like butter through the neck and the blood came flooding out, Aarne catching it in that bowl. The animal barely struggled or made a sound. The kill must have been clean, precise. All three goats were slaughtered in turn before Aarne stood and held the bowl of blood overhead. It sloshed and Tom watched it rain down on the white clothing Aarne and Mikkel wore.

Tom was staring and couldn’t blink. There were words coming in more than one language he didn’t understand. Viktor, Harald, and Vars being splashed with blood before Mikkel offered them the dead goats. A thought ran through his head about the young, feminine boy offering the sacrificed animals to the older, masculine, warriors of the group. He wondered about all the cultural meaning he was missing. Like a midnight mass, the movements were practiced and mechanical so they must have all meant something even if he was clueless. Tom felt like a play by play would have been helpful but he would have to make due with remembering and asking later. The goats were taken to a table beside the fire pit which was blazing hot enough he could feel the heat. Someone had to have stoked it up while he was transfixed on the goats. Tom watched with awe as Devon also joined the three with Dee and the animals were quickly cleaned and beheaded. He’d seen animals butchered before, but this was something else, parts separated out into piles for reasons he didn’t know. Tom only came around when something wet touched his face. He looked over to see the Dane and the Fin standing there. Mikkel’s red hand slipping from his face, and he could feel the cool wetness left behind.

Mikkel spoke in Danish and then Aarne repeated, or Tom thought he did anyway, the words in English. “Will you join us?”

For a moment he could only imagine he was about to be treated like some village elder. In this village of a tour, he was the elder and the leader even if everyone went their own ways on a personal level. Tom was stunned, not by the invitation but the drips of blood rolling over the white paint on Aarne’s cheek and the mess of red in Mikkel’s bleach white hair. The details felt overwhelming, but he found himself nodding and then jumped as blood was splattered on his face. It was still warm and caused him to step back. Glancing around he noticed he was the first to be anointed, was that even right but it did remind him of holy water in that midnight mass on his mind. The thought of being treated like a village elder came around again. His focus had been so driven down to one thing that he missed the fact that the Danes were singing. Rik on the harp and Ansgar on some war drum while Ollie and Raev sang. What they were singing was lost on the Brit who didn’t know the language though he did pick up a couple of god names, all Norse. It didn’t even sound like Danish. Maybe it was something else? Vars spoke Old Norse and Tom wondered if there was an Old Danish or some equivalent. Truth was he was well outside his area of expertise or experience. This coming from a man who had lived with aliens. Tom cracked a smile with that thought, interrupted by Aarne kissing his cheek before they went off to find others. He noticed the elder feeling had some merit when Hexed and Robert were the next approached. The oldest of the group.

Tom glanced at the spitted goats and realized that the intent of this was to go on until food was ready to share. Tom took a breath and decided he was going to need a drink to survive this. No mule though. He had seen enough people huddled in the bathroom from the Danish liquor. Maybe Hunter had some wine, surely he wouldn’t be caught at a party without it. Tom didn’t move from where he stood near the middle of the patio. His eyes were trying desperately to take this all in but there was simply too much. Tonight wasn’t going to be like any other experience. Another notch on his belt of strange things he’d lived through in his life.

Comments

[oprorsk_sode]

Mikkel grinned at the tall Viking. He gave Harald a bloody handprint on the chest as he leaned in to kiss the Norwegian's cheek.

"Mead?" Mikkel asked as he stared at Harald. It wasn't exactly sexual but Harald was incredibly attractive, in part because he made Mikkel feel safe.

[dodsmetall_kriger]

Looking down at the bloody handprint now pressed onto his chest Harald smiled and then gave Mikkel a one armed hug. Drinking mead with his young Dane friend sounded good about now. Where was his other friend that energetic Swede with big hair? Also, his dirty daddy boyfriend? Harald didn't know.

"Mead is good. We get flagons and drinking horns. Drink."

It had been a while since Harald had drank from a real horn since they were few and far between in LA. Almost impossible to find since American bars here didn't have drinking horns or even flagons as such.

[oprorsk_sode]

Mikkel leaned into the hug and wrapped both arms around Harald's broad chest.

"Vars has them." He had seen a few horns about and knew that Vars, or even Aarne, would let something this traditional go without having traditional vessels.

[dodsmetall_kriger]

"Vars have horns? This is good. Need horns for mead. We drink."

Harald nodded and did wonder which of the others would bring such a vessel along with them on the tour. Aarne or Vars, either one of those were bound to have horns. Perhaps even some of the Danes or Swedes too maybe.

"Ever drunk from horn before?"

The Viking was curious and wanted to learn more about his young friend.

[oprorsk_sode]

Mikkel took Harald's hand and started leading him to the table with the food and drink. The question got a chuckle out of the Dane.

"Of course." He bumped his shoulder into Harald. "I'm a child of Idunn and Heimdall. We're all in our Viking roots." He meant himself and the other Danes. They all followed the old traditions and part of that had been rebellion early on but also a need to latch on to something that could give them strength when everything around them was so dark and falling apart.

"You should try the cakes Aarne made for this." He would definitely eat and drink with Harald.

[dodsmetall_kriger]

"Idunn and Heimdall. Yes, this is good. Soeren boy honourable and with the gods and goddess. You are Viking like me. Strong and with good heart."

Harald pressed his large palm over Mikkel's heart, nodding and then giving the boy a gentle fist bump to his shoulder. It pleased the guitarist to know that Mikkel was at one with the gods just as he was and all the others who followed them. Aarne was a good man too with his Brit boy.

"Cakes make by Aarne? Not each much sweet food but try."

The Viking could eat like a horse just as much as Rik, Mikkel, Ziggy and some of the other more ravenous eaters.

[oprorsk_sode]

"There are a lot of Vikings here." Mikkel leaned into the larger Norwegian and grinned. Harald was like a giant teddy bear and the Dane adored it.

"It's mostly fruit." He was happy that Harald would at least try it with him. The table though with all the food and drink was overwhelming. Mikkel was suddenly hungry and wanting to eat one of everything.