CAPTURED BY VIKINGS: MEMOIRS OF A PRISONER (M/M) *CHAPTERS 1-16*

[socjuc]

Hmmmmm Poor Jamis...going to be Sold? He will no doubt get stressed out as he likely won't know who will buy him...And he likely will get separated from his country men. But there has to be something good that comes of this!

Looking forward to hear what occurs in the next chapter

[GoBucks]

Yikes those are some awful conditions. For once, I can honestly say I am glad I am not in your sub's place! I don't do bugs, NOPE!

[chadmc90]

Good start to what seems to be a promising story! I do look forward to reading more about this milk drinkers new life as a Vikings Slave.

[KidnappedCowboy]

I'm enjoying this!

There's a tenderness to Hrongar!

[bondagefreak]

THANKS A TON FOR THE AWESOME COMMENTS, GUYS!

REALLY GLAD TO SEE SOME NEW FACES JOINING OUR LITTLE GROUP

HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER. ENJOY!

[mention]Bradstick[/mention] [mention]Guardianbound[/mention] [mention]Stormee[/mention] [mention]gag1195[/mention] [mention]ShadowHusky[/mention] [mention]GoBucks[/mention] [mention]Ossassin[/mention] [mention]KidnappedCowboy[/mention] [mention]DeeperThanRed[/mention] [mention]Socksbound[/mention] [mention]Subexplorer71[/mention] [mention]wataru14[/mention] [mention]socjuc[/mention] [mention]privateandrews[/mention] [mention]that1kid13[/mention] [mention]TayDay95[/mention] [mention]blackbound[/mention] [mention]TightropesEU[/mention] [mention]cstone5725@gmail.com[/mention] [mention]harveygasson[/mention] [mention]Ropelover98[/mention] [mention]chadmc90[/mention]

[bondagefreak]

DAY 5
Einmánuður 16th, A.D 841

CHAPTER 5 - SOLD INTO THRALLDOM

Given the Roman propensity for lavish slave auctions, I was expecting to be led up on a stage of some sort and paraded around a throng of potential buyers. What my fellow countrymen and I were met with, however, was something far less grandiose and more subdued than what I initially feared. There was no throng, there was no stage and there was no parading around in front of a rowdy audience.

Allen, Duncan, Shaemus and I were kept fettered and shackled during the brief inspection process; something which was carried out by a rather rotund scar-faced man that looked to be nearing his sixties. Our shivering bodies were visually examined before our eyes and mouths were carefully inspected, no doubt as a means of making sure we were relatively healthy and free of any contagious infections that could spread to the rest of the population.

The greasy-haired man said nothing as he eyed my more able-bodied counterparts with his one good eye. But when he finally set his milky gaze on my more diminutive form, a look of obvious incomprehension dawned across his heavily scarred features.

"Ir sá-si týna?" he asked, turning to look at one of the guards, almost as if asking whether or not my presence here was a mistake. The sword-bearing lout assigned to preventing our escape simply shrugged his shoulders before grumbling a few words and mentioning the name "Balgruuf."


I was briefly examined, much in the same manner as my colleagues, but even as stubby fingers pried my lips apart and forced my eyelids open, the portly slaver did little to conceal his continued puzzlement. Another brief exchange ensued between the thrall inspector and the guard. The foreign-sounding name was once again repeated, and then an annoyed huff left the grumpy chainmail-clad soldier's mouth as he departed from the room and embarked on a quest to find this "Balgruuf" fellow.

The somewhat irritated guard had barely left the brazier-lit room that a somewhat large contingent of visibly downtrodden women was slowly herded in. Even as their unfettered hands remained cupped around the nipular area of their sizeable breasts, the irrefutable beauty of their naked bodies remained on full display for all present to see.

Over a dozen unclothed women - many of them sobbing and quaking with fear - were coercibly funnelled into the room, with only one guard leading the procession and two more closing the rear.


Orders were barked, causing the visibly sorrowful women to form a line and stand with their backs against the stone wall opposite to ours. My own shaking hands nervously covered the shameful nakedness of my pubic region, just as Allan, Duncan and Shaemus' hands covered their own. Only when I tentatively raised my eyes up to look at the dispirited line of naked captives on the other side of the room did I recognise the seven Caledonian women who had survived the raid on our town. I knew most of them by name, but I dared not speak up or call out to them. None of us did.

The brown, copper and auburn hair tumbling down from the dome of their heads had been partially braided up, decorated with flowers and arranged in a fashion that was undoubtedly seen as more agreeable to our brutish nordic captors.

It didn't take long for the first customer - a somewhat lanky but presumptuous man dressed in colourful vestments - to arrive.
I kept my gaze partially averted, but it was obvious from the way he carried himself that he was an envoy for a local ruler of some sort. Much like the thrall inspector before him, this newest visitor made us privy to the fact that not all Norsemen were blessed with the handsome features and tremendous size of their seafaring frontiermen. Of godly stature and strength many of them may have been, but made of flesh and blood these fair-skinned people most certainly were.



Three of the most beautiful women were hastily selected before being taken away and escorted out of the precession. The lack of payment or currency exchange was in itself a confirmation of what I'd initially suspected. Whoever was in charge of this place got his first pick of the women. For what purpose they'd been selected, I had yet to find out.


Several more muscular and imposing men came in to inspect the women after the high-ranking envoy had left with his new bounty. Most of them seemed to be in their thirties and forties, but a few of them were noticeably more mature in age.

Allan, Duncan and Shaemus attracted a very different group of potential buyers. They were inspected by men and women alike, but most of those expressing some level of interest were married couples looking for labourers to help tend the crops. Duncan was the first to be purchased. A dark-haired man with massive hands and an attire similar to that of a blacksmith had selected him. Allen and Shaemus were purchased as a pair, most notably by a straw-haired woman with an unborn child in her womb. They would most likely be made to work on one of the sprawling farms that dotted the hilly landscape outside of town; a hard life for sure but a more tenable one than the fate imposed on some of the captive women who'd already been selected and purchased.



One by one my fellow prisoners were led out of the room...until finally, I was the only one that remained.

I gulped rather nervously as several men and women wearing drab-coloured overtunics and coats made of undyed wool examined my shivering body. One older woman even picked my chin up and inspected my wrists, upper arms and shoulders before finally concluding that I was too frail to provide the assistance that she needed. Much like the others before her, she sighed, gave the scar-faced seller a look of unmistakable disappointment and left.

When finally the last of the potential buyers had departed from the room, the stubby-fingered man in charge of the whole proceeding scratched his greying beard in unbridled indecisiveness. He was quite clearly about to tell me something when an impossibly towering, 7-foot-tall behemoth stepped in through the ornate doorframe and cast his gaze upon the rotund man who'd apparently summoned him.


"Ahh, Balgruuf!" the thrall seller joyously cheered, immediately alerting me to the fact that the outrageously hulking visitor was the man he'd asked one of the guards to fetch. The two of them spoke fondly for a bit, almost as if they'd known each other for decades even though their appearance could not be more different and an obvious generational gap separated them.

"The thralls sell well this year, old friend?" the mountainous warrior asked, the room filling up with the absolute deepest of masculine voices as the words flowed out of his mouth.

"Yes, mighty jǫru-fægir. The thralls sell well...but not this one." the chubby greying man finally answered, causing Balgruuf to turn around and take note of my still shivering, shackle-clad form.

"No one take this little bein mögr. Look at arms, Balgruuf. Look at hands! How you want me to sell this?!" the greasy-haired slaver unhappily complained, taking hold of my left arm and wrapping his stubby fingers around my bony wrist in an effort to prove his point.

I, of course, didn't immediately realise why Balgruuf's presence had been requested or what he had to do with my lack of desirability. It's only when the positively colossal, wolf pelt-clad leviathan slowly closed the distance between us and picked my chin up with his impossibly large hand that I allowed myself to look up into his eyes and immediately recognise him as being the hulking giant who'd spared my life back in Freswick.

This was the blue-eyed brute who'd heeded my pathetic pleas for mercy; the same towering giant who'd slung me over his shoulder and carried me out of the monastery not five moons ago! He was my saviour, and his name was Balgruuf.

INTERESTED IN THIS STORY? WANT A FOLLOW-UP CHAPTER?
LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS!

READER COMMENTS WILL BE USED TO GAUGE THE LEVEL OF AUDIENCE INTEREST IN THIS PROJECT.

[Stormee]

Huh? Not who I was expecting to purchase Milk-Drinker. For some reason, I like calling him that instead of Jamis. Just fits the tone of the story. Thought for sure Hrongar would purchase him since he treated him fairly on the journey back to the viking village. But Balgruuf is now a new person to know more on. Can't wait to see what the new life for our protagonist will be like. Can't wait [mention]bondagefreak[/mention].

[Bradstick]

That was quite the interesting chapter. I found the way they auction to be held was very different then I imagined. I was thinking like Roman auction with a stage and being paraded around.

This I feel like worked better for where this story is going. Don’t know how to put it into words but being taken as a slave, then have no one want you is a different kind of degradation. That some mental thing that sticks with you.

Then right before something bad possibly happens, your “savior” comes in. It’s the dark before the sunrise if that makes sense. Him associating him as a savior would in my mind make him more submissive.

Had Balgruff came in and bought Jamis right off the bat, he wouldn’t see him as a savior but rather as his captor. This story is shaping out really well and I’m so excited to see where it goes from here. Well done!

[gag1195]

Jamis himself said that he didn't think he'd be a desirable thrall, and sadly he was proven right. Now we'll just have to see if Balgruuf is truly his savior, or if one of the other warriors, like Hrongar, will step up at the last moment to try and claim Jamis!

[Guardianbound]

Seems like the slave inspector was correct to call Balgruuf back to collect what he brought in. The usual clients don't see any value in Jamis, but I have a feeling a few those vikings he's encountered along the way would.

[cstone5725@gmail.com]

Oh was not expecting this chapter so soon but wow already started to his new life maybe can't wait fir next one thanks

No one wants him yet so i think it's a life of slavery and bondage for our little prisoner

[TayDay95]

Feel so bad for all these people made into slaves. Perhaps Jamis can look forward to a comparatively better life than his fellow villagers, Balgruuf has already proven once he's capable of mercy despite being a vicious warrior so who knows what we're in for?

[wataru14]

I think Balgruuf will be able to find several uses for Jamis. And I don't feel terribly bad for Duncan, Seamus, and the others. The life of a thrall is very similar to the life of a peasant. It's not like they had a lot of social mobility in their old lives, anyway. If anything, their new owners will take better care of them than they would have received in their old villages. They have investments to protect, after all. But Jamis seems like a smart lad. He should be able to make whatever arrangement Balgruuf has in mind work for him.

[socjuc]

Well Jamis meets his original saviour.... Intrigued to see how Jamis's new world unfolds!

[Ropelover98]

Hehe nice new chapter Sir! Im happy that his savior will most likely become his owner

[ShadowHusky]

I'm only really privy to specific historical fiction. And the Viking era (Before the invasion of Christianity) is one of my absolute favourites. I'm thoroughly enjoying this story, the details you go into give such a feeling of unknown and we are really put in Jamis' shoes; we feel helpless and confused. I'm very interested whether he will be taken by Balgruff or Hrongar will step in.

[GoBucks]

Only seems appropriate that the beast who saved Jamis will have an opportunity to collect his property. I wonder if Hrongar will have a last minute appearance. Either way, I doubt milk-drinker will only be drinking one man's milk

[blackbound]

Now I'm waiting for the twist where it's actually just milk they're making him drink

[bondagefreak]

Also, excited to learn more from you or the comments about the history and geography of this setting. Someone will probably locate Bjornstad in relation to modern cities or if it's a fictional city tell us its likely inspiration.

Alright, so here's a bit of trivia for [mention]Guardianbound[/mention] and those of you interested in my inspiration for Björnstad and its geographical position. While there were undoubtedly many settlements carrying the same name, the town featured in Jamis' account - though bathed in reality - is one of pure fiction.

Some of you may find it interesting to know that I've intentionally peppered Jamis' narration with false (but very common) ideas and misconceptions about the climate in that part of Scandinavia. Norway and Sweden typically conjure up images of cold barren lands in the heads of most people. While the upper parts of Scandinavia are indeed somewhat inhospitable, the southern portion of those countries is FAR milder than what their latitudes would suggest.

As such, our Caledonian (Scottish) narrator spent a portion of his voyage conjuring up such mental misconceptions while imaging the harsh, cold, barren tundras that would surely await him.


I've prepared two screenshots for you guys. The first one gives you an idea of Björnstad's location relative to Freswick (the red dot) in uppermost Scotland. The arrow represents the direct trip from Freswick to Björnstad.

Climate and geography wise, I've positioned Björnstad just north of Bergen (Norway's second most populous city). As seen on the second screenshot, Norway's west coast and the surrounding areas are filled with lush mixte forests, rivers, islands and archipelagos. There is a lot of farmland in those areas today, just as there undoubtedly was back then as well.







The entire region is a direct beneficiary of the Gulf Stream's warmth, which traverses the Atlantic and provides the United Kingdom, Norway and Sweden with far milder climates than what their latitudes on the map would suggest. To give you an example, the coldest temperature ever recorded in Bergen, Norway is -16.3C (2.6F). The coldest recorded temperature in say Québec City, Québec is -52.4C (-62.3F).

The average nighttime temperature in January for Bergen is 0C (32F), while for Québec City it's -17.7C (0F). Québec City is hotter than Bergen in the summer but infinitely colder in the winter. The extreme range of said city's temperature variations makes it very hard on plant life, whereas the far more constant and clement climate found on Norway's west coast guarantees a longer growing season, not to mention the same abundance of rain that constantly drenches Ireland, Scotland and England.

In short, the area surrounding our narrator's current location is far more hospitable and fertile than what he currently thinks it to be. Just as it's far more hospitable than what most people generally think of it as even today.

[Bradstick]

[mention]bondagefreak[/mention] That was incredibly interesting! The map helped out a ton. In my mind I didn’t realize they were in the UK but more around the Netherlands/Belgium. I thought that there boats were following the coast till they not Norway. Going across the way they did is way more terrifying to me. That map helped put a ton!

As for the temperature, that was really interesting. While not from Canada but from Idaho, I’m pretty used to cold temperatures and was thinking they would be in the negatives (F). This trivia was super interesting! Really glad you took the time to explain that to us.

[socjuc]

@bondagefreak That was incredibly interesting! The map helped out a ton. In my mind I didn’t realize they were in the UK but more around the Netherlands/Belgium. I thought that there boats were following the coast till they not Norway. Going across the way they did is way more terrifying to me. That map helped put a ton!

As for the temperature, that was really interesting. While not from Canada but from Idaho, I’m pretty used to cold temperatures and was thinking they would be in the negatives (F). This trivia was super interesting! Really glad you took the time to explain that to us.

Quebec City too chilly! warmer locales in other parts of Quebec

[bondagefreak]

I thought that there boats were following the coast till they not Norway. Going across the way they did is way more terrifying to me. That map helped put a ton!

I'm glad you enjoyed that little snippet!

Most raiding routes would've indeed taken them along the coastlines, which would've been safer and presumably allowed them to raid multiple locations in a matter of days/weeks. I based their trip through the 500KM stretch of the North Sea on the assumption that they would have sometimes opted for a more direct route (with a possibility of stopping on one of the islands separating Scotland and Norway if the weather turned unfavourable) when transporting prisoners. If I'm not mistaken, such direct trips have in fact been documented. The Drakkars were relatively fast ships and definitely seaworthy.

While raiding trips would've normally taken several weeks, it would also be reasonable to assume that prisoners would only have been taken on the very final raid of each trip.

If my info is correct, the Norsemen would have most often raided and entered into conflict with Scotland and Ireland, while the Danes (the Vikings in Denmark) would more often have raided England, France, Belgium and the Baltic states like Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania.


[mention]socjuc[/mention] I guess it's a question of relativity, since the capital is still among the warmest and southernmost places in Québec. Those living in cities like Saguenay-Chicoutimi would scoff at the notion that Québec City is too cold. But yes, to [mention]Bradstick[/mention], yourself and I, western Norway would be considered quite mild.

[Guardianbound]

This certainly made a few things clearer. Jamis was expecting frozen wasteland but got the beautiful fjords of Norway instead. Still, cold enough for Jamis to find some comfort in a vikings arms or his wardrobe of fur pelts and thick clothing.

[bondagefreak]

THANKS A TON FOR THE AWESOME COMMENTS, GUYS!
HERE'S THE NEXT CHAPTER. ENJOY!

[mention]Bradstick[/mention] [mention]Guardianbound[/mention] [mention]Stormee[/mention] [mention]gag1195[/mention] [mention]ShadowHusky[/mention] [mention]GoBucks[/mention] [mention]Ossassin[/mention] [mention]KidnappedCowboy[/mention] [mention]DeeperThanRed[/mention] [mention]Socksbound[/mention] [mention]Subexplorer71[/mention] [mention]wataru14[/mention] [mention]socjuc[/mention] [mention]privateandrews[/mention] [mention]that1kid13[/mention] [mention]TayDay95[/mention] [mention]blackbound[/mention] [mention]TightropesEU[/mention] [mention]cstone5725@gmail.com[/mention] [mention]harveygasson[/mention] [mention]Ropelover98[/mention] [mention]chadmc90[/mention]

[bondagefreak]

DAY 5
Einmánuður 16th, A.D 841

CHAPTER 6 - BALGRUUF, THE MIGHTY

Never in my twenty-four years of living had I witnessed a man as indescribably intimidating as the one who now stood before me. To say that Balgruuf's head towered above my own would have been something of a major understatement. The man - if such a word was even appropriate to describe him - stood not one head above my own but two! The centre of my face stood flush with the lower half of his pectorals, and the full width of my shoulders was only about half as much as that of his own.

I felt impossibly dwarfed, even more so when my eyes caught sight of the disproportionately colossal arms hanging down from both sides of his immensely broad chest.

What struck me most, however, was his face. For even during the brief moment I allowed myself to cast an upward glance at it, I could only marvel at the indisputable handsomeness of his features. Eyes of the most striking blue sat beneath a protruding brow that seemed almost locked in a perpetual frown. His skin was fair, as was the case with all nordic folk, but retained a markedly sun-kissed quality from long hours of daily sun exposure. Most remarkable, however, was his hair, for unlike the wheat-coloured locks that seamed so prominent among northerners, Balgruuf's was deep brown; possibly hinting at a mixte ancestry of some sort.

The dense, earthy-coloured forest of hair sitting atop his head looked a bit shorter than my fingers, while that which grew on both sides of it was trimmed substantially shorter. The short hairs descending down his temples merged into the very full but similarly-trimmed beard that covered his very wide chin and fiercely powerful jawline; the result of which gave the hulking behemoth an almost bear-like appearance.

This Balgruuf fellow was no ordinary man. The sheer power exuded by his piercing blue gaze was unlike anything I'd ever seen before, and it was made all the more intimidating by the stern heaviness of his ever-frowning brow and the fact that he undoubtedly weighed thrice as much as I did.

Even though I knew not what this unbelievably hulking leviathan's harsh-sounding name meant in the language of brutish northerners, he definitely wore it well. The name did him justice.



"Mjólka-drykkyumaðr..." the terribly oversized beast-of-a-man muttered, all the while cupping my delicate chin in his unfathomably large, work-hardened fingers; the same ones that had been wrapped around my comparatively puny neck only a few days ago.

The severe expression on Balgruuf's frowning face did not dwindle even for a moment as his icy blue orbs scrutinised my visibly frightened form and pierced into the very depths of my soul. My time on the boat had allowed me to determine that he was a quiet man; a man of few words but one that wielded great authority and commanded tremendous respect among his fellow frontiersmen. The exact age of him was impossible to know for certain, but I knew just by looking at his face that he had seen over thirty winters.

Even as the potbellied slaver complained about my lack of desirability and went on and on about potential buyers not being interested in having another mouth to feed, Balgruuf never once took his eyes off me.


"This one speak our language." he huskily explained, more as a means of defending his reasons for having spared my life than to appease his greying friend's legitimate complaints.

The slaver seemed surprised a first, but when he tried speaking to me and I failed to make any sense of the words leaving his podgy lips, Balgruuf once again stepped in and intervened on my behalf.

"He speak few word, but understand a little. Never before I met outsider could speak our tongue. We teach. He learn. Make good thrall." the mountainous man curtly elaborated, his voice so disbelievably deep and rough that it sounded more like growling than actual speaking.


I had difficulty following much of the argument that ensued between the two mismatching Norsemen, but from what I was able to gather, the slave trader was neither overly impressed nor entirely receptive to the brown-haired warrior's plans for me.

"Balgruuf, you finish building new home in Vindr-hagi, yes?" the scar-faced plaintiff asked, to which the monumental behemoth whose fingers still held my chin growled affirmatively and nodded.

"Then I solve problem, mighty jǫru-fægir. You no have frūghæ to take care of home. You take pretty man-child as hūs-þræll. He serve you. He take care of home. No more problem." came the scraggly-bearded man's suggestion, something which alerted me to the fact that, unlike Hrongar, Balgruuf had no wife to contend with.

For a brief moment, my heart practically leapt out of its chest. The thought of serving as another man's personal house-thrall would have been virtually unthinkable less than a tenday ago. But now that my prospects had grown gloomier and that my future was more elusive, the idea of serving Balgruuf in a somewhat domestic capacity did not seem so bad.


I quaked, mostly in excitement but also in understandable fear as the hulking brown-haired leviathan eyed me up and furrowed his brow in a pensive manner. Alas, the words that left his pleasantly-maintained beard-framed lips did not put my mind at ease.

"No. Cannot take hūs-þræll." the positively towering, thick-necked goliath finally boomed, his deep husky voice carrying an air of unmistakable decisiveness. "I leave for raid in three moons. No return 'till Harpa-month." he gruffly explained, before letting go of my face and slowly stepping away.

For a while there, it looked as though the bear-sized man was about to leave the room without saying another word, but then he turned around, huffed, gave my almost crying self one final stern look and turned to his greying slaver friend.

"Send to Flåghaugen. He work kitchen and make food at Jarl longhouse." Balgruff ordered, causing the older man to compliantly nod his head in agreement. "Maybe I take when I get back." the hulking warrior then gruffly added, before finally turning around again and exiting through the ornate doorway.

INTERESTED IN THIS STORY? WANT A FOLLOW-UP CHAPTER?
LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS!

READER COMMENTS WILL BE USED TO GAUGE THE LEVEL OF AUDIENCE INTEREST IN THIS PROJECT.