Drink!

Tjorvi was merely a Viking himself. He was drawn towards the large tables, mostly due to the promise of mead and the scent of the food. He had never seen anything like this before, and he couldn’t help himself from finding himself a seat and just getting a bite of that large chicken. One cup of mead to wash it down turned to another, and before long he was completely participating in the festivities. The young farmer remembered singing out, cheering to the newly-weds, and just enjoying the feast. Like that, he didn’t even think about making an impression on the Vikings but at least he didn’t make a fool out of himself either. At least he didn’t do anything to fuck up his chances yet, and he made some connections. Shame he wouldn’t be able to remember who they were exactly, but he had announced his presence which wasn’t the worst thing either…

It was already early in the morning when a stumbling Tjorvi Eldgrim could be found passing out…