Memoirs of a Viking

I've had this idea for a few days now to write down a short viking related story, but from a females point of view. Mainly cause I'm Swedish myself and the viking ages is a part of our history, but also a bit out of curiosity to see how it would turn out. I've never written anything viking related before so I wanted to give it a go. Would be so kind of you would leave opinions! 

"The thick smoke almost seemed to poison the normally clear and healthy Scandinavian air, and rose higher and higher to a cloudless sky. The sun had slowly started to set over the still ocean and the cold began to sneak upon the gathered crowd, but the large bonfire definitely made up for it with the heat it distributed. Young Arnóra witnessed the sight before her with innocent eyes. The large longship had been dragged up on shore by a hundred men and decorated beautifully by the villages women. Everything headman Gormr might possibly need in his next life had been placed with him inside the ship. Even his wife and two slaves had been executed and laid to rest in the graveship with him before it had been set on fire. Arnóra stood motionless as she watched the flames devour the ship in front of the large crowd that had gathered to bid farewell to their great headman. She could not remember the last time the whole village had gathered like this. Perhaps never? At least not during her seventeen years on this earth. An arm suddenly appeared over her shoulder and made her flinch. "There's nothing to mourn. He's drinking mead in Valhalla with Odin at this very moment" exclaimed the man whose arm was resting over her shoulders. She had seen him before, she was sure about it. But could not place a name to his bearded face. She did not have a proper answer to the man either as she was not actually mourning, she had never had a close relationship to the deceased in any way, she had only showed up to show respect. "I know" she smiled back before she removed the man's arm off her as polite as she possibly could. Maybe it was time to go home anyway? She thought. The large farm would not look after itself when she was away. The pigs had to be fed and the floors in the large wooden halls needed to be scrubbed. She could not help that she often dreamt away, that she somehow could accompany the men on their adventures over the seas and experience foreign countries. Sometimes she would wish that she had been born a male instead. Now she was stuck here in Scandinavia, stuck at the farm with the keys of the home in her bare hands. She was stuck. She threw a last glance at the great bonfire. The flames seemed to nearly touch the sky and the outline of the ship was now impossible to make out anymore. She sighed deeply to herself. "You had at least the chance to discover the world," she whispered. It was more Arnóra ever would have."

Love, Kristina