There was no strong center to the town, but he heard the noise of people as he came close to a small cluster of buildings that looked more like they were for business than for people to live in. He passed a small stable and an open stall holding a forge and anvil before entering into a small square, where the buildings all faced the center. There was some stone paving, but no fountains or trees or stalls or anything he might have expected. One building was well-lit from the inside and had shutters opened to the square. Inside were maybe two dozen men and women, drinking and enjoying themselves. Erik stood in the square, watching them, not sure if he should enter or what their reaction would be. They wore loose woolen clothing nothing like what he had on. A large man with a deep brown beard came from behind the bar and served drinks in large clay mugs to people near the open window. His eyes crossed the square and stopped on Erik.
Erik took a step back and the man leaned his head out the window.
“Hey! You there!”
Erik started to turn, fully intending to run.
“Stop! Hey! You’ve only just come, haven’t you? May as well have some drink!” The man was gone from the window in the next instant and the door opened, spilling light across the square. He turned behind to the patrons who were all suddenly deeply interested and waved a hand at them. “Don’t all make a fuss, you’ll terrify the boy.”
Erik walked hesitantly toward the open door. “I, uh, this will sound a bit odd, but I don’t know where this is.”
The man came out of the building to meet him, offering a hand. “Not strange at all. I’m called Gerhard and this is my alehouse in the town of Kvernes in Helheim.”
Erik extended his hand and Gerhard clapped his own around Erik’s forearm. The grip was strong and as much as he might’ve wanted to match its firmness, he knew he’d just embarrass himself.
“Erik.”
“A good name.” Gerhard nodded, smiling wide under thick bristles. “Come. Let’s get you out of those odd clothes and feed you.”
As much gut as he had, there was muscle under it all. Erik found himself entirely thankful that Gerhard seemed to be a kind man. Although, maybe when he was in the alehouse, they’d kill and eat him. Erik was troubled that he couldn’t bring himself to entirely dismiss the thought.
“Go on! Stop starin’!”
Gerhard waved his hands, prompting the gathered onlookers at the door to head back to their seats. The building was warm inside and there was the smell of food and thick drinks. There was conversation about him that no one made any particular effort to keep secret. Most of the chatter was about his clothes. It was definitely not the thin wool that they wore and they seemed to have never seen its like. The denim was especially curious to them. Gerhard pointed at a place at one of the long benches between a pair of women who looked to be in their 50s.
Erik sat down and hands were immediately on his body, pinching at various places and squeezing others. They rubbed the fabric between their fingers.
“So soft! Oh, it’s been ages since we’ve had someone new.”
He smiled politely, not sure what to say. The women were hardly talking to him, and more to each other and the people around.
Across the table questions began to come at him.
“So what were you, boy. A farmer?” one man asked.
Another spoke up, “Nah, look at his arms. Scrawny. He’s a jarl’s son for sure.”
They didn’t wait for answers and quickly devolved into spirited debate about what he was and where he’d come from.
“Shut up, the lot of you!” A younger looking woman in the corner shouted. “Ask him, not yourselves!” The room quieted and she looked at Erik. “Where’ve you come from? What’s your name? No sense in only Gerhard knowing!”
“My name’s Erik. I lived in America.”
Everyone looked at him without a hint of understanding on their faces. The mumbling began.
“Some new country?” “Things change so much back in Midgard.”
They forgot about him for a moment, long enough for Gerhard to come back through the door to the kitchen area holding a mug and a dish that was somewhere between a plate and a bowl. He placed them both down in front of Erik along with a wood-handled knife and a metal spoon that flattened at the end something like a shovel. The bowl was filled with simple food, boiled turnips and carrots and a fatty cut of boiled lamb that looked as though it had at least some herbs on it from the liquid it was cooked in. Gerhard ran off two of the men sitting opposite Erik at the table and sat in their place.
“This is for me?”
Gerhard laughed as did a few others. “Of course. Can’t expect you to arrive in such a place with a full stomach.”
“I can’t pay.”
Gerhard nodded. “No need for that yet, boy.”
Erik started eating, stopping after the first bite. “Thank you. I should have said it before. For the food. I’m grateful. It’s delicious.”
It wasn’t, really. It was fairly bland, but he was hungry enough that his stomach seemed not to care.
“Fulla prepared it.” Gerhard turned his shoulders, pointing to a woman behind them. She looked young and blushed to be pointed out. “She’s got skill in cooking.”
Erik smiled at her and Fulla hid her face to the amusement of the entire alehouse.
“You’ve not been here long, is that true?” The room went quiet as Gerhard spoke.
Erik shook his head between bites. “No. I just… I woke up near a well.”
There were murmurs of knowing agreement with the statement.
“And you walked here?”
“Yeah.
