Valhalla Hott by Constantine de Bohon

Author:Constantine de Bohon [Bohon, Constantine de]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Erotica, Historical, Romantic Erotica
Amazon: B005NWIAB6
Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press LLC
Published: 2011-09-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Summer began and moved on as though a blur and life was filled with living. There were so many things to learn to aid in their daily survival. As the season began changing and growing colder, Valerie was fitting in comfortably with her new life. To her relief she became quickly fluent in Hott’s language, while instilling a few of her own words for the others to learn when the situation called for it.

The other villagers ignored her little idiosyncrasies and grew accustomed to her strange ways and subtle differences. They had no idea what life was like in Valhalla and so they made excuses for her. She had everyone in the village washing their hands often and brushing their teeth. She had designed and, with aid of other men, built three more outhouses. She had also talked the men into building a huge wooden cabin out of massive logs. When they finished they were surprised at how comfortable it was. Their meetings were held there, as were a number of community dinners.

There were three large hearths within the cabin. They stored their salted preserves in the high rafters and in a cold cellar dug deep within the ground. Valerie had insisted on a wood floor in the cabin covered over with many furs. She had wooden furniture built—couches and chairs that were made soft by stuffed leather cushions. She was learning to spin wool with a whorl spindle. The other women taught her how to make clothing for her and Hott and Ulfr with hemp. She accepted her Viking life with open arms. Some of her favorite times were sitting, cradled against Hott while others told fantastic stories. She learned of their Gods and the respect they held them in. She shivered when they spoke of giants as if they were real.

Valerie told them her own stories. Renditions of frightening bedtime tales, where people were swallowed by wheeled chariots and driven around at a frightening pace, faster and wilder than any runaway horse could charge. She called these horrid devils the dreaded taxis. Taxis devoured your coins and squealed away leaving you breathless and penniless. She kept them spellbound with tales of massive winged beasts that flew through the air high above the clouds, stealing people away like dragons to different lands, only these were called airplanes. Which, by the way, also stole your money and made you grateful to be standing on solid ground.

She introduced them to hamburgers and shish kabob and coleslaw—finding wild carrots in the forest that were white not orange. She tried her hand at homemade eggnog flavored with nutmeg and cinnamon, and in turn was treated to the freshest honey and honeycomb she had ever tasted. They partook of mutton and lamb, fresh fish, and seaweed. They roasted chestnuts over their fires. She even tried squirrel when Bera insisted it would cook well in her pot, and the skins were worked into soft inside slippers. Her surrounding area, in her eyes, had been transformed into a grocery and retail store, only it was free—if she worked hard enough.

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