Leofric found himself reluctant to awake the following morning, his and Ola's warmth made the furs a bastion against the frosty chill of pre-dawn. Close by, he heard the rumbling snores of Halvard and his wife, and wondered why he had awakened so early. He listened, but could hear no strange sounds from outside--then it became clear--the night's storms had ended at last! He thought of rising and going about his usual ablutions, but the thought held no appeal just yet; the closeness and warmth of his norse friend's sturdy frame was much preferred to stepping out into the cold air beyond the heavy furs covering them both. Instead, he cast his thoughts over his plans--for that day, and for the near future.

His original plan upon leaving the minster--no, best to admit it now!--he had no plan--had been to get as far away from ruined Deira and the viking raiders as possible, as quickly as possible. And there was nothing wrong with that, but a more logical voice inside him scolded his fleeing without any sort of preparation at all. The vikings 'micel here' or great army had taken York in 866, two years before his birth, under the command of Halfdan and Ivar The Boneless, and subsequent raids by other parties had meant that Deira had known little peace since that time--and now that his brother Ermanric was in charge of the family's lands there was no place he wished to stay in Northumbria at all. Strathclyde was likewise out, it having suffered invasion by the irish norse at the time of York's fall. No, his best course was still south, though that led through the fringes of the Danelaw--he could but hope that he ran into no marauding bands of killers. And what if you did, the voice in his head replied, it's not as if you would fight, or could--and you certainly can't talk your way out of the situation!

He cursed himself for a fool! Here was a perfect opportunity if he could but convince his hosts of it's utility. He would teach them saxon, and could in turn learn the danish tongue from them--solving the problem of at least being able to talk to his captors if he should be taken by viking raiders! How long could learning a language take? After all, their two languages shared many words already--two weeks should be more than enough time! That decided, he settled back next to Ola and drifted off into sleep once more. It was a rude surprise to be awakened by cock-crow a short time later!

Difficulty arose when he tried communicating his idea to Halvard. How to go about it? He found that he had no words to explain, and gestures alone were not enough to get the idea of a contract across. Nevertheless, he resolved to start at once. Fritha had started boiling water for breakfast, and he walked over to her and pointed at the pot. She laughed, and said something which made her son and husband laugh too. His look at Ola made it clear to him...she thought he was hungry now, and couldn't wait for the porridge to cook! He smiled ruefully, and laughed too. Ola clapped him on the back, and motioned for him to follow him outside.

Leofric followed him out into the cold morning air, and noted the frost on the ground. It seemed as if ice coated everything, but he knew that this would burn off very soon as the day drew nigh. Around the end of the hill, he saw Ola enter a small opening, and followed him into a tiny room with a wooden seat over a deep pit. His face reddened when he saw Ola tugging at his shirt and taking a seat. He turned back when he heard Ola rinsing his hands in a bucket nearby. Leofric smiled and took his own turn; as he rinsed his own hands, Ola took a large scoop of earth and sprinkled it into the pit. Trying to come up with a way to talk Halvard into the deal he planned, Leofric could come up with nothing. Perhaps it was best to try with Ola first?

Outside again in the slowly brightening dawn, Leofric looked about him, Ola stopping at his side questioningly. Leofric pointed to himself and said his name, then pointed to Ola, and said the youngster's name also. At the norse boy's laugh, he pointed again to himself and said "Seaxa...man," emphasizing the latter word. He pointed to Ola, and said, "Danish...?" He was surprised when Ola shook his head rather violently, making a negative gesture into the bargain. Had he begun with too complex an idea? Ola's next words only partially allayed his fears.

"Dena...nei! Nord man!" He thumped his chest in emphasis. To further clarify his meaning, he spat on the ground, said "Dena!" loudly and spat again. He pointed at Leofric, saying "Seaxa man" and then to himself, saying "Nord man."

It took some moments before Leofric realized that his point had gotten across, but that Ola was not one of the danish invaders as he had assumed, but from a different land altogether! And he was trying to make it clear that he had no love of the raiders either! For some reason, Leofric felt suddenly at ease, losing a tenseness he had not realized he had. With some renewed vigor, he snatched up a stick lying on the ground, gave it the saxon name, and pointed to it, then to Ola with an inquiring look. Ola got the idea quickly, and said something which Leofric repeated. Taking the stick in his own hand, Ola said the saxon word, then his own, and threw the stick far away, giving Leofric the word for throw as he did so. When Leofric repeated the word, Ola nodded, and looked about for something else, his hands lighting on a small rock. He named it, took in Leofric's word for it, and threw it after the stick. Leofric noted he had quite a good arm for distance, and an excellent eye for aiming, as the rock landed within an inch of the stick.

By the time smells of cooking porridge reached them, and Fritha's call had summoned them, they had words for throw, walk, talk, and many objects in the small farm yard. At the sound of his mother's voice, Ola turned to Leofric and smiled hugely, making gestures which it took Leofric only a moment to decipher....

"Run!...Eat!"