Two men are working in the river, both ragged bedraggled, the taller blonder one, reasonably clean, the other the smaller wiry brown haired man as filthy as one can be while working waist deep in a river.

As Bill and Yamina floated closer, the larger man Begins to speak.

A voice loud and clear like a trumpet came across the water to us.“Hey Yiiminy, why is dat tinee gurl, riding that corpse like a boot ov’r dere”.

A deep grating gravelly kind of voice, like two rocks having angry sex with each other, ground out in response through vocal cords clearly damaged many times in the past, The cigarettes and whisky voice to end all whisky voices. Tthe voice the most pissed off movie Combat vet ever continued, “Waall, I don’t rightly know, I wonder if it’s got any gold in it’s pockets Thorbjorn?” said the one who must be called Jimni,

Thorbjorn, The one with the trumpet voice, , replied slowly, “Now Yimminiy, yuuu no I don’t stand Bye nuu roobun, nouwr steelin neider, besides, dat tinee gurly she luuuks sahd, I wouldnah’ steal her boot. Dat u’d be kruwle don’ ja know. A gurls boot is a sacred ting, even if it’s yust a corpse.”

Yamina: In Common Patois:

“Would either of you mind puling my fried here up on that sandbar?, you don’t have to pull him out, just over there where he’ll get stuck. He’s alive but I don’t want him to drown. he needs to sleep and heal, even with the river blessings upon him”

My head came around as I rotated and I saw them, again. Two men in grey rags, one huge, blond of beard and hair, and hunched over, like the weight of the world was on his back, crouched obviously doing something in the water. The other looks as if an angry weasel had sex with the most wicked person on earth, and it spawned him. This skinny weasel of a man too, looked like he’d been crushed many times by life, but refused to quit out of sheer stubborn cursedness and spite.”

The Big ones’ eyebrows perked up at the word blessing, and he looked at the little one, who said clearly exasperated in the angry rocks having sex voice, making him Jimni, “It ain’t gonna be me I tell you, I can see from here, Dat he ain’t got no pockets, he’s just in those blue underwear things. No Pockets, no gold. Dat stands to reason. Not me prollem!”

Mighty hunched Throbjorn looked at his friend sadly, then trudged through the water heavily, waded over to Bill, and drug him into the shallow water by the edge of the river, half in half out, Bill’s Shoulders on the shore.

“Dat do for you girly? Or you need sommat else? Or can I go back to pannin for the gelt?”

Yamina flew over to Thorbjorn to speak, he clearly being the nicer of the two.

Yamina smiled sadly and spoke in Perfect Lower, Hibernian, “I thank you kindly, good warrior, Your forefathers and the River Goddess look kindly upon your good heart, I am Yamina Danudottir, and bid you thanks.”

Jimni Spat, ”What da hell she’s sayin’ now, I can’t get a bit, speak nachurul like gurly”.

Thorbjorn Lowered his head politely, and said back with the fluency of his native tongue, “Long will your mother and your mother’s mother’s talk of the stories you have walked too little sister. How do you know the tongue of the Civilized People, here among the barbarians? Your name to is of our people though clearly you are not. Are you a priest of the new goddess, of this River Danu? Who blesses bathers, and curser shitters, as is only right a proper for a river goddess to do? Or is she among your mothers, mothers people?”

Bowing her head politely in return Yamina said “Legends tell she is of my mothers mothers mothers people, but while legends teach wisdom, they seldom teach truth, and so I am too a lesser servant of her people. Less than a priest, more than a fool. May her eyes gaze upon my deeds always.”

Inclining his head even more deeply, “Deep in power runs the blood, of your mothers, mothers mothers people, and may it’s blood run deep in you, and may the eyes in your blood see your deeds and carry them to your Goddess and perhaps ancestor. Would you grant this fallen warrior the blessing of your blood kin? For in this foreign land, my Gods have abandoned me and left me to rot upon the shore. The empty place in my heart where their eyes used to watch remains hollow since the day I came here and they have forsaken me. Like driftwood on a distant beach, my deeds lay dry and forgotten upon these shores, unwatched and unremembered. Any god whose people speak my tongue, can tell of my deeds to my gods, and if they are worthy, in their place judge them. I would keep her secrets safe, and stand before her enemies my shovel in my hands, if needed, for I no longer have and axe or sword, so low have I fallen”.

[“Momma, what do think, I would like to, he’s very nice.”] sent Yamina in Deity Chat.

[“He is also very polite; I think I like him. let’s see if we can do better than just a blessing. Ask if he would serve me as he once served his Gods, Shovel or Axe.”]

“My Goddess listens to your words, watches your deeds, and her lips speak into my heart. would you speak to her the oaths as you once did before your old gods, and swear your heart to open to her. Swear that If she were to put both her eyes and her mouth into your heart you would teach her words and fight her battles, Shovel or Axe, until she closes her eyes and shut her mouth, or until you die. Would you swear to her as you once swore to the gods who have forsaken you? As to they who forsook you in this this hot distant land? Would listen to her words, and teach them, even to barbarians, if she so bids you, Axe, Shovel or Plow? Heeding always the lips whispering words in your heart as you once did before oh fallen Battle Skald? Would you take up the work once more and serve Axe, Shovel or Plow?”

Thorbjorn’s eyes grew large and round in surprise, then squeezed shut wetly, and he bowed even deeper his nose practically touching the water in a way that gave you the feeling that if he’d been on land he’d have fallen to his knees, and the only reason he didn’t now was to avoid the bubbling noises when he talked.

“I would in this Sacred River swear it, my heart always open to her eyes to watch my deeds, and my ears open for her lips to whisper her ways to me Axe, Shovel or Plow. If she would listen to my words, please tell her, that I’d prefer the Axe, all things being equal.”

“Then Rise Thorbjorn, Battle-Skald, and take upon you the name of her people, and may your words bear forever the name Thorbjorn Danuson, Battleskald until your last breath. She charges you to plunge your hands and heart deeply into the river bottom kiss the mud so she knows your heart and rise again, with a Goddess and Kin once more.”

And he did, plunging his tall, lean and heavily muscled body into the water, as only a man born to the sea can, going to the deepest part of the river, plunging his hands and head deep into the bottom of the river, deep into the mud, kicking deeper still, lost in the clouds of muddy water, and eventually rising walking from the river smiling hugely, his face transformed as if he were altogether a different man, His back straight and proud, carrying a huge muddy rock in his hands, laughing with joy, his face and hair covered in dark brown mud.

JImni spat, sourly in common patois “If dat’s gold, goddess or not goddess, River or not river, shit or mud, half is mine, as we both promised Thorbjorn!”

Thorbjorn dove again, rose again, cleaner, the bundle in his hands less muddy by half. He held it up high, and said, “It is better than gold my brother, it is an AXE!”

He held up, what was clearly the muddy head of a large Dane axe. Wiping it with his hands to show no pitting, no holes, the shape as pure as the day it came off the forge, but covered in rust and muck.

[“You’re a cheater momma, a dirty, dirty cheater”] said Yamina.

[“Of course, darling, what fun would it be if I wasn’t.”] replied her mother with a bubble of laughter on her lips.

It was then that Bill spoke, his voice crusty but strong in Lower Hibernian “I know what a skald is, but what the hell is a battle-skald” pushing himself up to lean against a tree close to the river. “Are you going to poet me to death in the name of the river?”

Jimni complained, “By da dark gods, not you too, don’t nobody here speak proper, boing boing boing, is Dat all you people say”.

“These are now our people, brother, we are among family, they are blood of our Goddess!” said Thorbjorn to Jimni, and in an aside to Yamina, “His ways are hard, and his words, ugly, but his heart is good, if his fingers too naughty for his own benefit, with their love of other people purses.”

“Well If dey are family asks them for me to loan us some gold so we can go buy me a beer,” Muttered Jimni.

Bill chuckling held his hand out over the river and cast concentrate, summoning two nuggets of gold glistening wetly, out of the water, both as big as his thumb. Then saying in common “This gold should keep you in beer, brother Jimni”

“Not at dese prices, but dat’s there’s de kind of god dammed goddess magic I can get behind, Come on Thorbjorn, Lets go buy me a beer or three and drink a toast to your watery she god..” snatching up the two gold nuggets grumpily and stalking off.

“When your brothers beer belly is full, come find me again and I’ll haft that axe for your properly, I should be walking by them, and Axe without a haft, is like a warrior with just a shovel” Bill said to Thorbjorn.

“I will brother, May the Goddesses eyes always be open in your heart and see your deeds. Would you gift me the knowing of your name?”

“I’m Bill and you met Yamina of there already. May her lips always whisper in your heart Thorbjorn” he said as the big blond man, posture erect for the first time in years, walked after Jimni, his rusty axe head held lovingly in his hands, and his head held high, dripping the goddesses water with every step.

“I told you Diplomacy would pay off Bill, Didn’t I” said Yamina.

“Yes you did Yamina, and it was a good job.”

Bill pulled a fist full of the branches from the blessed oak out of his inventory and began slowly to smooth them together into one long piece of wood. Talking to Yamina, “Quest reward or no quest reward, that was bullshit, you tell your mom that for me. He gets an axe, and all I get, is you? I’ve been Cheated! Cheated I tell you! Tell her to magic me up some goddamned pants.’ Said Bill , with too much joy in his voice to be even half serious.

“You got free information too, don’t forget that” Yamina said too brightly.

“Oh yeah, said Bill, and he pulled out his letters, the new one in one hand the two old ones in the other. He laid the new one on top and smoothed the pile together on his lap.”

The paper said” Thorbjorn is a nice, polite boy, not a sour puss like you, Goddess 6, Bill 3.”

“Yeah, yeah, said Bill, If you can use one of my three to put a blessing on that axe when it’s all together, it’s fine by me, But I still got gypped, gypped I tell you.”

Now it read simply “Goddess 5, Bill 2.”

“OOOO, big spender,” said Bill.