Eirik was very cold and alone at night. He looked at the empty spot on his bed and longed to have a wife once more. His own daughter Abbigayle slept in her cot and even in her sleep, she seemed to yearn for a mother's touch. This would be no easy task as there were no maidens of age in his village and there was an abundance of virile young viking men.

The elders in the village decided it was time for a maiden acquisition venture. The isles to the south and west had proven to be fruitful when it came to young females, so it was decided to depart for this land of fair ladies.

Eirik had never had to go on a maiden hunting expedition before and the older men were very aware of this. There may not be enough to go around and Eirik had taken a wife before. This set him up as fodder for the other Vikings.

Their sea voyage seemed to be going quite well. Eirik thought their batch of mead was exceptionally fine on this voyage. His good natured Viking brethren were being even more generous with it than usual. Eirik was just beginning to wonder why he was so intoxicated when he felt himself falling. His head seemed to bounce a little when it struck the plank floor. Oddly enough it didn't hurt. Everything was spinning like a water spout when the lights finally went out.

The sea was a very large cradle that seemed to sing a lullaby. It took a very long time for Eirik to awaken from his lulled hibernation. The pain was like his head had been struck by the mighty hammer of Thor himself. Something else was out of place on the Viking vessel. The quiet was deafening. He could not recall ever being on such a quiet ship. As he righted himself, he realized that he was alone. He could see smoke coming from the village and everyone had gone ashore.

Eirik lumbered into the village feeling horribly. It was difficult to hear anything else above the pounding in his skull. As he scanned the small village he noted the abundance of clutter. It was more common for their to be carnage and rubble after a raid, not clutter. He continued his search of the village until he discovered his band. They explained to him that the village was void of adult men, save a few aged ones. There were only two females of age in the town and they had been bound and gagged and their marriages had already been consumated in the Viking tradition. Eirik had missed the entire forray and was going to go home without a wife! This could not be! Eirik pleaded with his brethren that surely there had to be a maiden left in the village.

One of his Viking brothers strode forth from the back of the group. He declared to Eirik that there was one, but she was more woman than he could handle. Eirik inquired about the large purple lump on the young Viking's forehead. He explained that there was one young woman who protected a small child in her thatched dwelling and that she wielded some manner of iron skillet. She was quite formidable in size and tenacity and after she had thumped the Viking's skull like a tuning fork, no one had dared step foot in her abode.

Now Eirik wasn't exactly a small man, but he was no giant either. He was quite average as Viking's go and he carefully contemplated his brethren's story. Exactly how imposing was she? She was probably no longer a maiden since she was protecting the child, but she was definitely a woman and there was warmth in that thought. Eirik thought that there would be no harm in gazing upon her.

The small thatched dwelling was certainly tall, but not very large in girth. Eirik noted as he approached that the home was slightly more dilapidated than the others. As he neared he could hear a rapid stirring from the inside. He tugged on the door and deduced that the door was locked by some crude device from the interior. Eirik slide his short sword between the door and frame and hacked in an upward motion. The door gave in and a muffled shriek was heard from the shadows of the home. As the light peered inside, Eirik could see the basic components of the dwelling. The table was the most obvious thing that was out of place. It was pushed back to the rear of the home and was on it's side. Behind it, he could see little except the hand holding the iron skillet that was braced against the side of the table. This was definetly the right place. He thought he could even see a little bit of viscous red liquid glistening in the sunlight on one of the edges of the pan.

Eirik spoke as calmly as he could asking the woman to show herself. His words hung like the dust in the air, as if nothing had been said at all. Eirik spoke again and hacked at the floor with his sword. It made a rough thud on the dirt floor. Another small shriek came from behind the table and slowly something began to move. A woman stood up from behind the makeshift shield. It appeared that her head never ceased to rise. She was the tallest woman that Eirik had ever met. She stared eye to eye at Eirik from across the room and yelled at him in some foreign tongue. Eirik did not understand a word of this speech but it was a fairly long proclamation that brought color to her cheeks. She kept pointing that iron pan as she spoke and Eirik certainly understood the language of the pan. He could have certainly overpowered her, but at what cost? Would he have to injure her with his sword and acquire one of those unattractive purple contusions on his forehead? What honor would there be in besting a woman protecting her child? Eirik contemplated a moment and then he slowly leaned forward and placed his sword on the dusty ground. The woman cocked the pan backward and was prepared to strike when Eirik stepped back. He then crossed his legs and sat down on the floor. She was quite suprised by his actions and stood there motionless.

This lended quite an opportunity for Eirik to take in this woman. She was even taller from this angle and her legs seemed to never cease. Her dark auburn tresses framed the most beautiful blue-green eyes that he had ever seen. Her skin was a milky white that yearned to be touched. Her bosom was concealed, but it was difficult to hide such bountifulness. Eirik had no words on his lips.

Something else moved from behind the table. The woman shifted and seemed to be grabbing at something from behind the table. Slowly a little blonde head appeared and then a set of blue eyes. They seemed to be quite curious about this man that her mother had not thumped as of yet. Eirik examined the little peanut sized girl. She was a little dissheveled and had a small patch of dirt on her nose. She didn't seem to resemble her mother though she was adorable all the same. Her mother suddenly grabbed at empty air as the little half-pint raced around the table. Before her mother could even gasp the little blonde top was looking eye to eye at Eirik. The little one said something in her native tongue and stared at Eirik. She sat down in his lap and put her arms around him. She began to hum some foreign melody as Eirik placed his arms around her. She was very cold and her coolness felt good to him. Eirik glanced at the mother who had closed the distance between them in one stride. The pan was slowing being uncocked as she approached. The look in her eyes was a compilation of feelings. She had a fire in her eyes that made Eirik worry about the frying pan. She also had a look of reality that made Eirik believe that she knew why he was here. She was aware of the men outside and knew that there were probably some out there who smelled worse and were much shorter. Eirik did not understand the soft spoken words she said but he did understand when she placed the pan on the floor next to his sword. Eirik slowly stood up and placed the child between them. He moved his arms forward and apart to offer himself to the woman and child. She slowly stepped forward and embraced Eirik with the small one between them. The blonde top wriggled free and ran to a cot in the shadows. She produced a small wooden and cloth figure that obviously meant a great deal to her. Her mother spoke a few words to her and they both approached the cot. The mother retrieved a sack made of a very coarse cloth and she placed some belongings in the sack. They both returned to the center of the cottage and held hands awaiting some instruction from the Viking. Eirik understood and was relieved that he had found his wife and would not have to harm her. She was much too beautiful to have to injure.

Eirik took a step toward the door and suddenly stopped. How would he explain how they had come to an understanding? They didn't speak his language nor he theirs. Would they believe that she simply yielded? Would he be mercilessly ridiculed for not vanquishing her? He slowly turned and noticed his sword and the infamous pan on the ground. There eyes met as he picked up the pan. He placed the pan in her curious hand and cocked her arm for her. Eirik slowly rotated his chin downward and motioned her hand forward. She jerked back in protest. Eirik met her eyes and nodded while tugging on her hand again. This time she understood. The room became suddenly bright as the pan struck Eirik's ripe melon like head. He staggered and went down on one knee as he felt the warm liquid run down the side of his face. He used his sleeve to wipe his cheek as he stood up. The woman was an even whiter shade of white and her eyes were gaping with fear. Eirik slowly touched her cheek with the back of his hand and then touched his fingers to her lips. Eirik nodded his approval and embraced her. He then placed his hand on the top of the cloth that concealed her bosom. She had a look of fear in her eyes as he again placed his reassuring fingers to her lips. She closed her eyes and seemed to understand his intentions. He wrenched at the fragile cloth and it tore easily. The creamy white skin of her breast was exposed and the ampleness of it became apparent. Eirik reached down to her skirt and untucked some of the garments. He then took the dagger out from his belt and placed it against her arm. She bit her lip as she awaited the pain of the cold steel. Eirik quickly cut through the cloth with his blade and blood became apparent through the dark cloth.

Finally Erik picked up the table in the corner of the room. Swiftly he flung the table into some shelves that held crockery and such. The shelves came tumbling down with a huge commotion. The little girl shrieked and then Eirik added the final touch. He slammed his heavy boot down on the women's foot. Fortunately, the scream slowed her down enough for Eirik to catch the frying pan in time. He did not want to be bludgeoned by that weapon again!

Eirik and his new family emerged from the small cottage. A crowd had gathered near the dwelling to see the results of the melee. Eirik emerged victiorious, leading the woman by his belt. A slip knot had been fashioned with it and slid over her hands as he lead her by the excess length. Their daughter followed closely behind with a sack in one hand and her doll in the other. The cheers of his Viking brethren echoed throughout the village. The Vikings with wives in tow, returned to their ship to begin their ocean voyage home.

Thus endeth the saga of the newly named Gwynnyth the Captured and Eirik the Wife Stealer. In case you were wondering, at Eirik's insistence the pan remained in Ireland!