In the end bringing all of the Warriors Three (plus the lovely Lady Sif, who brightened every adventure with her sunny personality) had won them the fight even before it had started.
Hogun had voiced concerns about the villages at the border of Vanaheimr. Fandral had not listened entirely but he remembers that the original problem had been information (or goods, as mentioned before he had been preoccupied) that had been regular before not arriving for eight days.
He had not had proper sleep in weeks, and the last time he got to ride out and use his swords have been blurred memories - so he had volunteered to find out what had gone wrong with the Vanirs messenger. That had pleased Hogun enough that Fandral thinks he might be forgiven the Ale accident.
Skeiðbrimir lives up to his name and snorts at one of the men that had been slowly falling back towards him and is now close enough he could have poked him with the tip of his sword if it were drawn.
He loosens his still safely hilted sword from his belt and pushes the vandal forward once more without having to move too much, back into the formation Sif had insisted upon. They had been scared enough just to surrender - Fandral doubts they’d be any threat.
The village had been partly burned and still smoking when they had arrived. These men had either tried to take from the already weakened or were the original vandals come back now that the men had been gone hunting. They have refused to say a word and the frightened women could not say for sure who had set fire to their homes.
At least the cattle had not been burned. He thinks that might have been what they are trading to Asgard. There had been a lot of those fluffy animals grassing on the open fields.
He is still so deep in thoughts he doesn’t realize the man has swiftly turned around to grab the end of his sword that had been pushed into his shoulder blades, holds fast onto it and pushes it back towards him.
The hilt of his own sword knocks into his face with enough force to rock him nearly off his horseback.
Sif had been more than happy to help out her dear friend, and of course it wouldn’t feel right having them go off to battle without her. She had spent far too long at the palace dividing her time between training the warriors and working on strategy with Odin and some other advisers. She was bored to tears and was thankful for a chance to shed some blood. The look on Hogun’s face when she happily accepted was all too familiar. She knew that she must have had a wicked grin on her face at the time. He and her other friends knew how badly she needed a break.
Arriving at Vanaheimr had been such a disappointment. There had barely been a fight, and most had dropped their weapons at the mere sight of them. Sif glared angrily at the hostages as if daring one of them to step out of line – to challenge her in some way. She had come for blood, but alas, it seemed as though she would have none today. She sighed as she sheathed her sword and helped restrain and line up the prisoners. She kept reminding herself that she did this for Hogun, not herself, and that hopefully this would end the problems for this village and the ones nearby.
She turned around suddenly when she heard a commotion. When she saw Fandral being struck in the face with his own sword she groaned and started to run towards him. “Odin’s bloody eye socket,” she grumbled as she withdrew her own sword. She punched the man holding Fandral’s sword with her sword hand, knocking him to the ground. She then grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him up towards her, as she pointed her blade at his chest. “Give me one good reason why I should not run you through where you sit.” She raised an eyebrow. “My sword begs for blood this day – I see no reason why it should not be yours.” She glared down at him, her sword gleaming in the fading light. The man mumbled something under his breath. Sif pulled him closer. “WHAT DID YOU SAY?” His eyes flickered from her to the sword and back again, a steely resolve forming in them. He spit in her face. Sif threw him in the dirt and pushed him down forcefully with her boot, her sword pointing at his neck. She calmly wiped the spit off her face. “Od’s eye Fandral, you bring me the nicest things.” She smiled sarcastically at him before turning her attention back to the man trapped beneath her foot.
“As much as I would love to rip out your heart or have your head set on a pike I have a feeling that I would be remiss if I didn’t question you further.” She smiled at him. “It seems that you are a much bigger problem than just a lone vandal.” She tipped his head back with the end of her sword, before speaking in a honeyed tone. “But I cannot let your insult go without any retribution now can I?” She brought her sword around and over her head before bringing in down swiftly where his left arm met his shoulder. He cried out in pain. She bent down and put her fingers under his chin, forcing him to look at her through the tears. “Be thankful I didn’t take more…..for now.”
Sif looked up at Fandral. “Just what the Hel were you thinking any way? Do you think yourself invincible?” She glared at him. “Now help clean up the mess you created.” She motioned to the wailing one armed man. “I will not stand for any Aesir bashing on my watch and I fear he is not alone. Perhaps this was just meant to get our attention and bring us here.” She scowled. “Though hopefully he is alone.” She grinned. “In either case at some point I can lop his head off soon.” She marched towards the others to explain the situation.
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