Date: Sun, 23 Nov 2003 06:22:17 -0500
From: Tom Cup <tom_cup@hotmail.com>
Subject: Raptors by Richard Dean - Chapter 4 GM - Y/F- A/Y - Historical

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The Raptors
By Richard Dean
Chapter 4
The Journey Continues
richard@tomcup.com

Day after day they sailed or rowed onward in shifts decided by the burning
of oil set in a rounded out stone vessels.  They could keep time by the
length of time it took to burn out whichever quantity of oil was deposited
therein.  The Vikings had a good sense of time, not only by the position of
the sun or moon, but by the use of this form of clock, when weather
precluded their line of sight or vision.

When it became necessary to bespeak of the Mothership, a flag was hoisted to
notify the Commander of the flotilla their request to come alongside.  Only
when they received the necessary flag reply would they be allowed to break
formation and carefully maneuver their craft alongside of the Mothership.
Resupply of food stores, change of crew if some became ill and could no
longer endure their assigned chores, and also the Captain would exchange and
gain further information from the Commander.  This could only happen in good
weather and when the seas were calm enough to preclude damage to the smaller
Longships.  Once resupplied they would break away from the Mother, and hold
back long enough to resume their previous position in the flotilla.  The
times of resupply seemed to give all of the crew members new vigor and
charge them with the joking and information exchange with the crew members
of the Mothership.  It was a form of a reunion with community members.

Arne and Torson, in the meanwhile, not only withstood their normal shifts as
directed by their Captain, Ragnar, but could sit with him, as all of them
enjoyed their off moments in chat and discussion.  When Ragnar decided he
needed to rest, eat or sleep, Arne would take his place at helm and
leadership, Torson would step in to assume Arne's responsibilities.  And so
it was, day after day.  Each day was a learning experience for these
gallant, proud young men.  They seldom heard complaints or mutterings of
discontent from their fellow crewmembers, other than the usual complaints
of; "my back is killing me, my aching ass, you smell like cattle dung Lars"
or "how could you father those children with that little twig Knute?"  A
convivial bond was established within the entire crew, as Ragnar, Arne, or
Torson, depending upon whom was master at the helm, would visit, talk, joke
with the other members of the crew.  On the whole, Ragnar was pleased with
his selections.

During those periods of off time, Arne and Torson would talk lowly amongst
themselves, thus, not being accused of disturbing another of the crew's
sleep or rest.  They talked of their home life, parents, and dreams.  A bond
of a different sort was in development.  This became evident in their
thoughts about each other, the comfort they felt when they were in close
proximity.  If either had closed their eyes, they believed they could inhale
deeply and identify the other by the smells, odors that emanated from their
bodies.

They had no idea, nor concept, of pheromones; chemicals that emit scent
signals to others that trigger a chemical response of sexual attraction.
Detected through an organ three inches inside the nose, called the
Vomeronasal Organ (VNO).  When the VNO detects the pheromone it sends a
sexual response signal to the brain, which lead to structures that regulate
sexual hormones.  Because of the lack of daily bathing restrictions,
pheromones are not cleansed away and assault another's VNO much like animals
are attracted to those "in heat".

When females detect pheromones from males, their sexual attraction is
enhanced.  Males detecting pheromones from another male may or may not be
sexually attracted since social conditioning cautions wariness, as evidenced
by one male dog sniffing another male dog.  The human brain is the bodies'
most important sexual organ.  Without pheromones to attract the resources of
the brain, little attention is paid to another male.  When specific odors
strike the VNO, the brain goes into a natural responsive alert.

Confusion and bewilderment assailed the thoughts of Arne and Torson.  They
had become naturally dependent on their friendship and alliance, but doubts,
fear and social class distinctions came into their reasoning, too.  Thoughts
and visions of a sexual communion came to the fore.  Their internal mental
fighting caused such consternation that sleep seemed difficult unless they
were so consumed by lack of energy they fell into a deep, dull, sleep.  On
awakening they betook the vision of their friend lying next to the other,
with warmth and gratification.  Bewailed of thinking further on solutions
and explanations they tried to exclude such thoughts as they lived their
daily lives.  They became tense and guarded mentally, while outwardly they
seemed as if nothing were benign of their personal questions.  Their eyes
scanned and searched each other's bodies trying to map their identities.
Both wanted to reach out and touch the other; to caress, to enfold, to hold,
capture the essence to become one entity.  How could they?  Is it shameful?
What would the other think?  What would the other members think?  Ragnar?
What would he think?  The community within their villages, what would they
think?  This seems more than friendship, they thought.  Both were consumed
in self-doubt, shame, and inner-conflict.

During their day-to-day chores and tasks, they often came into bodily
contact, whether unknowingly accidental or even, at times, duplicitously
predestined.  Each touch or jostle emitted a sense of warmth and
satisfaction.  Penile erections among any group of men are not cause for
alarm.  They knew and saw each of them display morning erections caused by
filled bladders.  This they could accept, as did other members of the crew.
It was a natural phenomenon.  How could they explain to themselves the
reasons for their erections during the days and nights when they need only
look at the other, or touch him or bump into him?  They could openly talk
and plan on any topic, but this enigma caused them to hesitate, to stuff
those thoughts into the deepest recesses of their minds.  This had become a
dilemma of enormous proportions within their internal struggle.

One evening, after eating, they ambled aft to sit beside Ragnar, who started
to relate some of his adventures.  He told them of several raids in which he
participated.  He talked of his sojourn to Iceland on a resupply mission.

"We had to get the supplies to them, before the winter storms set in.  My
uncle, Kjelle, was in the second group of settlers to establish their base
and lay out a homestead.  A curious thing, though.  He and a friend of his
went off by themselves and worked up a claim of land.  He built his sodded
home, and they lived there farming and sheep herding.  He never married.
Rumours went that the two of them had become "married".  It took me four
hard days to finally reach his farm.  Damn, he was a tall one, though.  Tall
and brawny, maybe two heads taller than me.  His friend, Olaf, was about my
height, but with the reddest head of hair, I've ever seen."

"Did you ask your uncle about the rumour, Ragnar?" inquired Torson.

"Of course not!  Torson, some things you must accept when it's nothing of
your business.  I would never question your father and mother about their
conduct in the marriage bed.  Why would I ask my uncle Kjelle?"

"To dispel the rumours, Ragnar." Arne interjected.

Turning to look at Arne, Ragnar placed his hand on Arne's shoulder and with
a tight grip said in a cold clear tone, "Rumours are not based on fact.
Else why would someone bother to spread them?  They're caused by little
people with little minds that like nothing better to cause trouble and
discomfort for others.  They shit through the wrong hole.  Hear me well on
this lads, rumours are like a runaway disease.  Nothing will cure them.  As
long as men cause harm to no one, it should be of no concern to you or
others."

"If that's the case, then why are they sneered at; become the laughing
stock?" argued Torson, as he looked directly into the eyes of Arne.  Arne
recognized the concern of Torson's question as if it were personally
directed to him, rather than to Ragnar.  A sense of dread came over him, as
he stared deeply into Torson's eyes while waiting for Ragnar's response.

Ragnar gave some moments of thought before replying to Torson's enquiry.  "I
don't care if a man wants to fuck a tree.  I'll not lose a moment's sleep
about that.  What I care about is how a man conducts himself in the
community or on the field of battle.  Many people think of these things as
unnatural and will shun certain men such as these.  I can't answer your
question fully, Torson, as I don't understand it myself.  I've known some
men, who came to conclude that they wanted to live within that lifestyle by
their own volition.  Others, I've heard were taken as children and grew to
accept themselves as committed to those kind of acts.  I truly don't know or
wouldn't want to venture a guess.  I only know that I don't give a damn one
way or other.  Because my woman and I've never had children does that make
me one of them?  Of course not, but if it did and I still had my woman, I
wouldn't care what anyone else thought about me.  I know when I'm
confronted, I'll take my stand and fight if need be.  I don't care if my
uncle Kjelle is one of them or not.  He's a good man.  His friend is a good
man.  They both work hard and honestly.  What more can I say on that?
Accept a man on terms of who he is.  Not on terms of what he is--unless he's
an enemy or someone who stands in our way."  Ragnar guffawed his loud and
boisterous laughter, which captured the attention of the rest of the crew to
look up in startled amusement at Ragnar's display.

"Take the helm, Arne.  I'm going to piss and then go to sleep." Awaiting
Arne to take over his duty, Ragnar stood, and stretched himself before
walking away to the tented sleeping area.

Torson whispered, "Have you ever seen or met any of those men, Arne?"

"Not that I know, Torson.  How would I know?  Ragnar says it should be none
of our business.  I think I'll take his advice.  Have you met or seen any of
those men, Torson?"

"I don't think so," he whispered back.  "If I did, I think I'd have lots of
questions to ask."

An embarrassed silence seemed to permeate their surroundings.  They both
thought in silence noting the slap of water against the hull of the ship,
the lines heard stretching, the slap of sail as it adjusted to the strength
of the gusts of wind, the murmur of those still awake, the coughing,
snorting and snoring sounds of those in deep sleep.

Arne broke the reverie with a whispered, "What kind of questions?"

Stunned and embarrassed, Torson finally replied, "I'd ask them, `How did you
know?  When did you know?'" hesitating with a pained look on his face,
Torson continued:  "You may hate me for this, Arne.  "Umh, ah, er, have you
thought about this?  I have, for too many nights since I've met you."

Arne snapped his attention to Torson's pained look of anguish and saw
sadness and desire within his befuddled look.  His mind wanted him to
release the helm and enfold Torson within the clasp of his embrace.  He had
to attend to the safety of the direction and safety of the ship.  I want to
hold him, kiss him, and declare my love for him.  This is neither the time
nor place.  Do Torson's questions apply to me as well?  Yes!  Yes!  Yes they
do.  I don't know what to do or say to him about this.  I'm damned if I do
and damned if I don't.  I look at his pain and suffering and see a brave
man.  Certainly more brave than myself.  I see several tears in his eyes.
He looks so defeated as if it took all the strength within himself to make a
declaration like that.  He's opened himself wide for me to look into.  Dare
I admit to him my true feelings for him?  Dear God, Odin, what do I do?
Give me a sign.  I suffer as Torson suffers.  Please Odin, protect us.  Show
us the way.

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