Friday Fiction…

…the last one!
NaNoWriMo comes to an end tomorrow, and I’ve reached the 50,000 word total at long last. *Much cheering and rejoicing*. I reached that goal on Wednesday afternoon and spent yesterday reading through from the start in order to begin editing. I’m about halfway through and, fingers crossed, Ragnar will be ready for sending to the printers in a week.
This is, therefore, your last sneak peek. Lovely Boyfriend gets the first copy and then I’ll make it available for public consumption in the New Year (possibly after further editing…I’ll see which bits Lovely Boyfriend groans at the most).

Ragnar and the Horde have just arrived in Orkney after inventing Up Helly Aa in Lerwick:

‘I want to make one thing absolutely clear,’ Dave announced. ‘Absolutely, DEFINITELY no brewing or distilling of alcohol is permitted here. Thee art not even allowed to let thine urine ferment nor apples fall from their trees and rot. Dost I make mineself clear?’
Ragnar and Donald hung their heads and mumbled something.
‘I could not hear thee!’ Dave bellowed.
‘Yes,’ the sulky pair chorused.
‘Yes what?’ Dave was refusing to let up.
‘Yes, thee make thineself clear. No we shallt not make any alcohol upon the shores of this island,’ Ragnar parroted. Dave had drilled him most fiercely with his lines.
‘Whaur are we anyboots?’ Donald asked. ‘It’s guy foggy.’
‘This is an spit of land known as Borg byrgisey,’ Dave explained. ‘The J.O.O. have been kind enough to allocate us this region as an base from which to raid Pictland. ‘Tis an safe place in which to store immense hoards, reachable on foot only by an treacherous causeway from the Mainland of Orkenjar. Approach by boat is also most difficult due to the great cliffs. I have, however, been given the clearest of guidance as to how to reach an small harbour. An Mister TomTom SatNaverson from the esteemed company of Halfordson and Halfordson (Thee place to visit for thine Voyaging Needs) haft provided me with an map and instructions.’
There was a crash as A Life on the Ocean, Dave hit bottom and stuck fast. Dave shouted most angrily as the Horde gathered their belongings and began to trudge through waist height waters. ‘I want my gold back,’ he protested. ‘He said I had yet another five boatlengths before the causeway exit!’

Enjoy your weekend.

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