“A plow? No. I’ve—”
She pinched his arm between thin fingers and grimaced. “Didn’t figure from the look o’ ya. It ain’t so hard and you seem a smart one. Stick it in the ground and push it straight. You menfolk ought to understand that well enough.” She cackled, pushing past him to come out into the street. She closed the door and pointed absently toward the fence. “Plow’s it. It’s all you’ll need. Do all you can before sundown and we’ll call it a day’s work.”
With that she started northward toward Kvernes, leaving Erik standing in the middle of the street. He looked at the closed door and figured he was expected to just hop the fence, so he did. The house was a part of the fencing itself, with a side door letting out to the main area. He doubted the man inside would welcome his presence. He hadn’t even gotten the wife’s name so explaining why he was there would be difficult at best.
The ground in the field wasn’t nearly as soft as what he’d walked on near the well. He spotted a wood-handled device with a wheel on the front and a maybe foot-wide claw behind it. It was held in place with a large bolt and there was a more spade shaped piece of iron on the ground with roughly the same look. Erik could sort of remember seeing much larger versions of similar tools attached to cows at the old longhouses he’d had to visit. He hadn’t been interested enough to watch them do the work, but he could assume the order of them easily enough. One tilled up the dirt, the other made rows for planting.
He groaned as he pulled the plow up, looking at the size of it compared to the field around him. It seemed so much larger now than it had. As he got to the edge of the field, Erik pushed the edge of the tiller into the dirt, thankful that at least the handles were smooth. He started pushing, surprised that the dirt gave way fairly easily. He had no idea how harsh the winters were, but no one seemed to mention it. Maybe they were mild enough to keep the dirt pliable come the spring. It was a bit of luck he hadn’t expected, but it was welcome enough. Even with the weather as pleasant as it was, the work was hard and so he pulled his shirt off, tossing it on the ground beside the plow. In the span of a few hours, he’d managed to till almost half of the field. Wanting a change of pace, and to keep his mind off the lack of ready access to water, he switched the tiller for the plow and curious if it would save time, walked to an untilled bit of dirt. He plunged the plow in and it stuck, not wanting to move. He strained, trying to push it forward, making slow progress.
“Erik!”
He looked to the side and saw a short girl with dirty, light-blonde hair staring at him. She had an annoying grin on her face.
“What?”
“You’re meant to till it first.”
He rolled his eyes and pulled the plow from the dirt, deciding to ignore her. He walked to the area he’d tilled to start practicing with the plow.
“Erik! Oy!”
He ignored her, starting down the line with the plow hoping she’d go away.
“Why would you pretend not to hear me? I offer good advice and this is how I’m treated?”
He did his best to move down the tilled soil in a straight line, but it was much harder than he’d expected and the row veered a foot out in places. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the girl climbing the fence.
“Hey! You can’t be in here.”
She ignored him, landing on the dirt at the edge of the field and started walking toward him.
“You can’t be in here!”
“Why not?”
He didn’t have a good reason. “It’s not your land.”
“Not yours either,” she said, looking around at the tilled soil.
“I was asked to help.”
“I’ve heard the rumors about you. And I followed all morning. Are they true?” She was grinning by the time she’d finished the sentence.
“I have no idea what rumors there are about me. And that was you?”
She pushed his arm playfully, ignoring his annoyance at having been followed. “Don’t play the fool. You know. Valkyries.”
A small panic rose inside of him, not sure what it meant. The girl’s demeanor didn’t suggest anything dangerous, but how could he know?
“Oh! Is it a secret?” She snickered. “Horribly kept secret, if it is. I just want to know about them. You’re an einherjar, aren’t you? One of Odin’s chosen?”
He let the plow settle in the earth. “I guess.”
“So you’ve met a valkyrie.”
He scoffed. “Met, yeah. Real majestic.”
“Are they? I’ve heard they’re fearsome. Horrifying, some say. But it’s all stories, I bet.” She was almost giddy talking about them. “Why are you here? Why aren’t you in Valhalla?”
He shook his head and decided to go back to pushing the plow. “No idea. I woke up next to a well and now I’m here.”
“Hm, that’s pretty normal. There’s wells all over. Spit people from Midgard out. Are you sure you’re not just making it up?” She kept a slow stride beside him as he practiced pushing the dirt into straight rows.
He laughed, somewhat indignant at the accusation. “Why would I make it up?”
She shrugged. “Maybe you want that people should think you’re a great warrior. Some folk are that way.”
“And that’s why I’m pushing a plow in a potato field.”
“Carrot.”
He reached the end of the row and looked back down the other way. “Look it doesn’t matter, I’m not lying.”
“Then have you met Odin?” She seemed as
