Hi guys! I'm having some trouble finding time to write this story, but I promise I will work as hard as I can. Today, I have decided to share a song with you guys that means a lot to me. It is named "Frit Land" and is by the Danish band Ulige Numre. 'Ulige numre' means "uneven numbers (or songs)" and the song title means "free country." A lot of young Danes consider this song as a new kind of national anthem because it describes our country very well. I really wanted to share their music with you guys, even though it is only in Danish, because this band is probably my favorite Danish band right now :)

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the new chapter of Frida! It might be a bit confusing, and I am sorry for that. I just need this chapter done to carry on with the plot. Skål!

"Waving hills
field, meadow and forest.
Free country, free country, long live.
Your brothers are gone,
your sisters sleeping tight.
So you have to be brave and stand strong.

If your hand is shaking,
well, then it will all come crashing in.
Over the country's boarders,
into the living room, into my home.
We shall throw ourselves in the waves
crashing onto the shore.
Free country, free on our own.

I will try to see
the bright idea,
but the line has to be drawn in the sand.
Forgive my eyes,
they only see from my nose down.
How shall I be able to carry the entire world in my lap?
The pain of the entire world does not concern mine.
Free country, free country, my place.

The summer had passed
when I hurt myself on your thorn,
all of the most beautiful things hurt.
From mosquito bites by the lakes
to the threads in the waves,
burning her legs.
We shall throw ourselves in the waves
crashing onto the shore.
Free country, free country, my place.
Free country, free country, freedom."

...

The young man's eyes seemed hard and angry, as he stared at nothing in particular while shedding his newly caught deer from its fur. His hands worked fast and untroubled, and he did not even look at the dead animal in front of him as he loosened the skin from the muscles, only feeling his way forward, as he had done so many times before, only the gods would know the exact number.

The blonde man seemed lost in a different world, his thoughts lost somewhere between Asgård and Hel, his body working thoughtlessly.

Maybe this young man, whose beard had already starting to become thick and his shoulders broad, maybe he was wondering why Tyr chose to lay his hand into the great mouth of Fenrir, when the gods were to tie the beast down, well-knowing that he could lose his hand from it.

Which he eventually did, as the dwarves-made Gleipner was strong enough to hold the beast down.

Or, maybe this young man was not thinking about the gods at all, maybe his thoughts were circling over his coming marriage with the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his blue eyes upon, and how he was to handle not being an entirely free man but a husband of a woman that would bear him children and...

Maybe he feared that he would not make a good husband or father.

The young man's eyes suddenly came to life when someone stepped out of the doors to the long-hall, and his brows furrowed when his eyes roamed to the face of his father.

This was the person his mind had been struggling over, and the young man felt something hardening in his throat, causing him to gulp down hard and lower his eyes to the bucket of blood and intestines that he had placed below his newly caught deer. Bjørn felt his shoulders tensioning as he lifted his eyes to his father once more, who was walking slowly across the path leading to the marketplace.

He stared at him until his figure disappeared behind one of the cottages.

He had always admired his father.

Bjørn snorted before he continued to carve the skin off the deer. Maybe not always.

He had definitely not admired him in the way he had handled his marriage to his mother. However, he also knew that it was childish of him to miss the times when his mother and father was still living happily together, for he knew that that was a time of his life that was over.

It had already been written by the three nuns of Yggdrasil, and their needles were now sowing with a different color.

But sometimes, images of his old life, of his childhood, would flash for his eyes, reminding him of an easier time, a time of innocence and blissfulness. Ignorance.

He snorted.

He still missed Gyda sometimes. She seemed so far away now, he could not recall her smell anymore. There were times when he felt hatred for his father, for not remembering that time. For not remembering her and the special bond that Bjørn had felt so many times between his mother and father.

But he knew that his mother still felt it. He had seen it in her eyes during this summer's raid.

Bjørn had now shed the deer completely of its fur, and he carefully started scraping the inside of the deer's stomach, his knife almost totally silent against the backside of the deer's ribs, removing whatever was left in the core of the animal in front of him. The smell of animal's blood made his nose wrinkle only momentarily.

Ever since his return to Kattegat and to his father, Bjørn had known that the gods had great plans for him. Ragnar had been told by the Seer. But he had never known that he would be joining his father on a journey that was supposed to lead them to Northumbria, however, eventually, leading them to a land further South.

A small smile curled in the corner of his mouth when he thought back to when Floki and Frida had finally returned to Kattegat, and how surprised they both had been when they realized that not only had they themselves returned from a newly discovered island, Ísland, they also returned to find that Ragnar and the other Vikings too had discovered a land they had not known to this warm summer day, as one of Ragnar's ravens finally revealed that land was appearing nearby.

Bjørn remembered how curious his eyes had been when they had approached the oncoming landscape, how excited his heart had pumped inside his chest as they had reached the wide river that had led the many boats inside the land, the entire fleet silent as the earth.

"Is this Northumbria?" Ingeborg had asked him.

But Bjørn could not tell. Something in the air told him otherwise.

Bjørn remembered how his eyes had roamed to his father, and he felt his blood rushing when he saw him in deep conversation with Athelstan further up in the ship.*

His father's eyes were shining with a crazed light, and Bjørn heard blood rushing for his ears when he saw him smiling.

Athelstan had recognized the shapes of the river and the sounds of the trees. He had been in this land before.

Frankia, Bjørn soon discovered.

When they had laid camp further up on the river, Lagertha had soon stepped forward at the small meeting of men, including her, Ragnar, Eysteinn, Bjørn, Ingeborg, Athelstan and Rollo, as they had just discussed the new information that Athelstan had shared with Ragnar. Bjørn had raised his eyebrow at his mother, and he had felt something skip in his heart when he saw the light that was shining from her eyes as she looked around at the group of men gathered around her.

Her eyes had lingered on Ragnar before she let them hover around all of them, pride beaming from her chest as she spoke. "I think we should make a toast to hail our king, Ragnar Loðbrók, for leading our joined people to another land of the West that we did not know of before. Odin is truly keeping his eye on you, Ragnar, I am sure of it. Hail king Ragnar!"

"Hail!"

Bjørn opened his eyes and shook his head lightly. He did not remember closing them. The sound of a raven sounded from above, and Bjørn looked up into the grey and heavy clouds, not seeing anything but a foggy and grey explosion of untouchable fields up there, not even a single ray of sunshine breaking through them.

The wind was becoming louder, and Bjørn soon rose to his feet, already feeling the moist of the oncoming rain in the air, like warm damp on his skin, and he quickly untied the deer from the loft plank. He had to prepare the fur soon before the weather became too wet.

Bjørn spun around when he heard footsteps behind him on the stairs of the porch, but he quickly relaxed again when he saw her snow white hair, as she met him with her white pearl smile, a warm bleeding sensation releasing in his chest.

Ingeborg giggled as he sighed out at her, sending her a small smile before turning around to enter the cottage.

"Hi," he breathed before he entered the cottage to drop the deer on the slaughter table, returning outside shortly after. Ingeborg was still smiling at him as he approached her on the porch, her eyes soon dropping to the blood on his hands.

"Uh, hi," she smiled sweetly.

Bjørn leaned forward to place a short kiss on her cheek, keeping his hands at a safe distance, away from her beautiful light dress. When he looked her in the eyes, he noticed that something was on her mind, her eyes flickering nervously from his one eye to the other.

He took a small step closer to her.

She had been told to say something to him.

"What?" he pressed.

Ingeborg's eyes fell to their feet, and he saw her biting her lower lip. "Uh, it's… my father," she mumbled under her breath, finally lifting her eyes to face his.

Her eyes were so blue, they reminded him of the sky on a bright summer day.

"What about him?" He could feel that she was nervous, but he did not mind. He liked it when she showed her soft sides, which was not very often.

Ingeborg's eyes escaped his as she spoke. "He, uh. He wants you to come with us to Svealand, to Uppsala, when we leave Kattegat. As an invitation to come and see our home and lands, of which we are very proud, you know."

Bjørn smiled at her without speaking for a long moment, long enough to cause Ingeborg to sigh out nervously, and he shifted his weight on his feet, smiling smugly at her.

"You know," he breathed, "I have already been to Uppsala one time before in my life."

He thought back to when he had travelled with his mother, his father and his sister to the temple in Uppsala, and he felt his heart fill with both sorrow and happiness. He kissed Ingeborg's cheek once more.

"But I would be honored to go with you and your father back to see where we shall share a life together some day."

Ingeborg threw her arms around his throat and kissed him hard. Bjørn chuckled, trying to keep his bloody hands away from her, but as her kisses turned softer, it was not long before they both had blood on them.

His mind was peaceful yet again for a while.

* I'm actually a bit confused about what to call the Vikings' sea vessels. A boat? A ship? In Danish we call them 'vikinge skib' which corresponds to "viking ship" in English, but I recall them using 'boat' in the series. But they are named long ships too, right? Hm, I might prefer ship over boat.