Various crew members aboard Eivor's longship, the Sea-Chariot, told stories as they traveled.[11]
While sailing, Bragi began telling a story.
- Bragi: In the early days of the feud between Kjotve the Cruel and the Raven Clan, there was a mad berserkr called Kiarr Rawbone. Kiarr had pledged his battle-fury to no king or jarl, and would give his oath only once each winter for reasons nobody could fathom. One year, Kiarr's sister, Thora, was married to Kjotve's brother, Alrek, and soon Kiarr was often seen in the company of that clan. But soon after, word came to Kiarr that Alrek had abused his sister. When he asked Thora about this, she told him, "It is true." So Kiarr invited Alrek on a hunting expedition. And when they were away, Kiarr slew Alrek and pulled off one of his arms. When he returned to camp, Kjotve asked where his brother was. Kiarr shook his head and held out his hand, in which was an arm ring. "Your brother bid me give you this ring, Kjotve." Confused, Kjotve took the ring. And with it came the entire bloody arm. "Your brother pledged his oath to Hel herself," Kiarr laughed. Then he turned and departed. He was never seen in those parts again.
The longboat crew began murmuring amongst each other.
- Bragi: During my nineteenth winter, King Styrbjorn ordered the construction of a new longhouse, the splendid hall you now see at Fornburg. To build this longhouse, he employed the help of twenty men. I was among them, as was Frathi, the strongest and stoutest man I had ever seen. We set about felling trees and hewing wood for timber. Frathi was the fastest of us, dropping forty-one trees in only two days. On the third day, a spindly man called Nar was near upon felling his first tree. He had hacked it all the way around like some mad animal. When the tree fell, it did so in a direction he had not wished, straight down upon Frathi. Nar called out, but it was too late. Frathi had only enough time to turn and face the doom bearing down upon him. With that he raised his arms to embrace the timber-hammer. The force of the tree's falling drove Frathi deep into the snow bank, yet his arms never let go. He held that angry trunk as a lover. Like hounds, we scooped at the snow to reach him. We found Frathi ten feet down, alive but in pain, still bearing the tree upon his shoulder.
The longboat crew cheered.
- Bragi: There was a woman called Nal who came by ship to Fornburg unheralded, demanding to meet King Sigvaldi, Styrbjorn's father. Nal was from Gautland. She was tall and rugged and strong, and everyone who walked near her said she smelled of men's blood. When her message was sent to our King, Nal was made to wait a full day. Yet she did not complain. She watched the waves and sang songs. Night came and went and still Nal sat by the shore of the fjord, singing her songs. She skipped rocks with children and smiled. As the afternoon of the second day approached, King Sigvaldi's messenger reappeared. They spoke quietly together. At last the messenger stood back and waved to some men nearby. Three men bearing three chests of silver approached quickly. They set the chests of silver in Nal's ship and stood back. Then Nal stepped forward, swinging a large bloodied sack before her. Nal opened the sack and emptied it on the shore. Seven pair of hands tumbled to the ground. Nal then mounted her ship and sailed away.
The longboat crew began murmuring amongst each other.
- Bragi: Onarr the Ugly was an excellent sailor, who could pilot a longship entirely on his own, and this is why King Sigvaldi kept him around. In all other matters, Onarr was a cruel, anxious, and humorless man. He was one of the most unlikable people I have ever known. One year, I recall we had invited some karls from the Yngling clan to dine with us. As we were serving ale, we came to find that we had none left. It so happened that the ale had run out just before reaching Onarr's horn. This raised in him a word-storm and he accused Sigvaldi of treachery. Every man in the longhouse jeered at Onarr for raising such a fuss. This made Onarr angrier than before, and he stormed out. A short time later we heard him yelling through door of the hall, "I set this scorn pole upon the men of Yngling for their dishonor!" We looked outside and saw that Onarrhad severed one of the heads of the Yngling's horses and stuck it upon a hazel branch. When he saw us gathering at the door, the Yngling Karls among us, Onarr panicked and ran. He was not seen for many months.
The longboat crew began murmuring amongst each other.
- Bragi: I knew a crazed man about my age called Rokr, who we had taken to calling Rokr the Rodent for his habit of collecting axes. For twenty years he collected axes of all make and size. He had never seen a day of battle, but he swore to Thor that he would. In his thirty-first year, after drinking too much ale, Rokr seduced another man's wife. That man called a holmgang against Rokr. Rokr accepted the holmgang and on the agreed upon day, he laid out twelve of his axes, and asked, "Which of these will I use to slay you?" "Will it be Bone-Splitter?" he said, "My bearded blade inscribed with seiðr runes, affixed with a handle of English oak?" "Or Blood-Fountain," he continued, "My Dane axe, which swings through the air on two hands with the speed of an arrow's flight." "Or might it be Twin-Wolf-Wounder," Rokr growled, growing more bold, "A fierce pair of throwing axes..." At that moment, the man who had challenged Rokr brought a large stone upon his head. Rokr died instantly, and his axes were given away as gifts.
The longboat crew burst into laughter.
- Bragi: A story from my youth, this one has no lesson to be learned or message to be gleaned. Often my father like to take me on hunts in the forested lands east of Avaldsnes. I loved these solitary times with him. I never felled a beast myself, and my father saw that this upset me. I was only a boy, but I had dreams of being a man. So one winter, my father asked me to perform a bargaining ritual to the goddess Skaði, to improve his bow-skill and snow-sight. With glee warming my heart, I caught a hare and sacrificed it to the goddess, asking an exchange of skill and sight for my father. When the ritual was complete, my father and I set off into the forest. We hunted all day until night fell. And we slew no game. That night, around the fire, I was sullen. My sacrifice had not been heeded. Yet seeing my father only smiled. "Had you been hunting," he said, "You would have killed six fine deer. For Skaði hears only those who speak to her."
The longboat crew cheered.
- Bragi: When I was eleven winters old, I was the youngest of my favorite cousins, a wild and rowdy bunch of boys and girls. Together with our parents, we attended a feast at the home of Halfdan the Black, of the House of Ynling. To toughen our patience, our parents set us with the old woman who ordered us to bake flatbreads and serve it to the noble jarls. After an hour, the flatbreads piled so high into pillars you could have built a roof over it and called it a longhouse. When our work was done, an older boy, Guthrod, suggested we steal a keg of mead and drown in happiness for our good work. So Guthrod and Mikkel and Osa snuck into the storeroom and stole a barrel as I stood watch. But when we were spotted, I froze. Three of Harald's men stopped us. They struck Guthrod and Mikkel and pushed Osa to the ground. "Whose idea was this?" they asked. I stood and said, "The idea was mine, the mead is for me!" One of the men eyed me and said only, "That is not true." Then they moved on.
The longboat crew began murmuring amongst each other.
- Bragi: Some years ago I took to sea with a sword-dancer called Egil. A brooding warrior with a face of stone and oak-hard arms. One a raid in Courland, we shored up along the edge of a forest and explored until we came to peopled parts. A large farm. It was night and all were asleep so we set about plundering the place in the quiet of eve, taking sheep and goats as we pleased. It was then that Egil saw a farm-hand and pressed the boy for the family's hidden silver. The farm-hand squawked like a crow. Being hid beneath an anvil at the smith's forge, the silver was no trouble to lift. In secret, we took it and the boy back to the ship. It was then that Egil grew sad, for when the farmers woke with the crack of day, they would know they had been robbed, but not by whom. So Egil ordered three of us to follow him, back the sleep-hushed hamlet. As we burned the houses, Egil shouted his name... "I am Egil, son of Skallagrim! And I am the man who deprives you of everything but your life!" I never sailed with Egil again.
The longboat crew began murmuring amongst each other.
- Bragi: Here's a tale to tickle your sides. The winter before, I was drinking in Stavanger with some companions. With us in the meadhall were men of Bard Jarl's clan, one of which was a poet named Halli, called Sarcastic Halli by most. Seven ale-horns into his night, Halli stood upon his table and called across the room to another man, a skald named Thjodolf. "Thjodolf!" he yelled, "I can compose a more beautiful poem with my belching than you could with your tongue and fine words!" The room laughed, Thjodolf loudest of all. "I accept your challenge, Sarcastic Halli," he shouted. "Allow me to begin!" Thjoldolf then spoke his verse: "Sad Halli drowns in horns of hubris, squeaking like a stoat, yet proudly the pup calls it poetry!" The room laughed again, with Halli joining in. Then Halli tripped across the room and opened his mouth to speak his verse. From his throat erupted a jet of vomit, into Thjodolf's face... his only composition that night, of which he seemed most proud.
The longboat crew burst into laughter.
- Bragi: In my youth, I remember hearing the story of Kalda, a fierce young woman whose father forbade her from swordplay and raids. Kalda had skill to match or surpass any man in the clan. And so it was that her beloved Gapi asked her aboard his ship. Once again, Kalda's father forbade her to leave, calling her soft and weak and fragile. But Kalda ignored these insults and left. For a full spring, Kalda and Gapi sailed the coast of Francia, raiding and plundering and taking much silver and riches. Then, in the early weeks of summer, a passing ship gave Kalda news that her mother had died suddenly, Kalda was grief stricken. Kalda returned quickly home, only to find her mother there, alive and standing quietly beside her father. Kalda was confused. Kalda's father spoke in a sour voice: "I sent the tale of your mother's death, for you were insolent. But now you are home, where you must stay." Hearing those words, Kalda pulsed hot with rage. She slew her father and fled back to her ship, then set a swift sail for the horizon.
The longboat crew cheered.
While sailing, Dag Nithisson began telling a story.
- Dag: O, you have likely never heard the story of the time Odin and Freyja appeared before me on a dark winter's night! They call—
- Bragi: They called you their orphaned child, yes, Dag. We have heard the tale as often as the sun has risen and set.
The longboat crew burst into laughter.
- Dag: Have you heard me tell the tale of the six Christian missionaries I lured away from their faith, into the worship of almighty Thor?
- Bragi: You showed them how to turn their crosses into hammers, simply by flipping them over. And they fainted with joy. That tale?
- Dag: Ah, yes. Yes indeed.
The longboat crew burst into laughter.
- Dag: You may not know this, but Ragnar Lothbrok once asked me to lead his early assault on England myself. This would have been eight, maybe ten years back. It is hard to say. The winters blow into one another like a great white fog. But I remember, as if it were yesterday. Ragnar appeared at my home, unannounced. Naturally, I welcomed him. He had traveled a great distance, only to see me. So I poured him ale and fed him bread and listened as he talked. He was feeling anxious about his journey. Leading so many men into such a great war, it was a burden he could not handle. It was then, with tears wetting his lids, that he said, "Dag, teach me the art of war. Lead us to England and to victory!" But I shook my head. "Ragnar," I told him, "I have two weddings I must attend soon. Were it not for these, surely I would help you." Ragnar bowed his head. "Thank you, Dag," he said. "Though you will not be on my ship, you will be present in spirit. And that is enough."
The longboat crew burst into laughter.
- Dag: Did I ever tell you the story of how I killed an entire clan single-handedly with the broken hilt of a sword?
- Bragi: Too often, Dag. More times than any man can count.
The longboat crew burst into laughter.
- Dag: Not long after leaving for England, I made a solitary trek into the mountains east of Fornburg. I was looking for elk, or deer, or other game to bring home. But my luck was poor, and I could find nothing worth my arrows. Coming up over a rise, I saw a rounded mountain ahead of me, with a strange narrow slit in the earth running left to right. There appeared to be fresh water in this crevasse, which was strange, for it was on its side. As I approached, the ground rumbled and the crevasse shuddered. Then it opened, as wide as a lake, and ringed with color. Stepping back to take in the view, I realized with a shock what I was seeing. The eye of Jörmungandr, the world serpent! Yes! He sleeps near old Fornburg, blessing us with his dreams. O, if we could return there now I would show you the place. One day, maybe. One day I will show you the place.
The longboat crew began whispering among themselves.
- Dag: Some time ago, I met a wandering skald in search of a jarl or king to serve. He had not composed a verse in years and was fearful of losing his skill. I said I knew many such great men. A few jarls, a handful of kings by name. But to my knowledge, all of them had skalds of their own. This poor skald was disappointed and thanked me for my time, asking my name as he departed. "Dag Nithisson," I told him. The skald's eyes went wide. "Dag Nithisson!" he exclaimed. "Of Fornburg?" I nodded and said, "The very man, I am." The poor skald sung to the skies with joy. "You are a legend among legends," he said. "Let me compose a verse for you." Imagine my surprise at hearing such praise, but I agreed. So he began, for two days, composing a most lovely verse on my behalf. Yes, a most lovely verse. Unforgettable, yes. And I will... yes, I will recite it for you, one day... when we have time.
The longboat crew chuckled.
- Dag: Have I ever told you the story about—
- Eivor: I'm fairly certain you have. Anyone else with a tale to share before Dag starts talking again?
The longboat crew burst into laughter.
- Dag: You might not be aware, but I am a man with considerable shipbuilding craft. In my youth, just thirteen winters old, I designed an improvement to our dragon-boats. One that gave them extra strength. It is so common now that none remember my genius design. But at the time, I was praised from the top to bottom of Norway. I had been sailing with my father, when we hit a rough patch of ocean. Our boat trembled like a frozen skeleton. We nearly broke to pieces, but I was not afraid. I was transfixed by the ship itself, watching it bulge and heave. As men screamed around me, I devised my improvements to keep the hull solid and shapely. When we returned to port, the young men vomiting and weeping around me, I shared my ideas with my jarl. He thanked me well. In time, all our ships used my new design. And soon all of Norway, So you may thank me, not the gods, for our smooth passage here.
The longboat crew chuckled.
- Dag: Here is a tale I do not often tell! There was a clan, little known in the south, composed entirely of women! And I wh—
- Bragi: And why you did not stay with them when they asked you to be their king, Dag, I will never understand.
The longboat crew burst into laughter.
- Dag: Here is a story I have not told a man, for it happened only last month! I was sharing a mead horn with a beautiful woman, when—
- Bragi: She, her sisters, and her mother, all begged for your hand in marriage. Is that how this tale ends?
- Dag: Ah... yes. Were you... were you there?
The longboat crew burst into laughter.
- Dag: We all remember when Eivor gave orders to attack Kjotve's clan in Avaldsnes. I knew even then, our chance at victory was slim. It was a fool's errand. But Eivor demanded we strike, and I am not one to disobey my superior. Such is the mark of an honorable man. You all know what followed. We set upon Kjotve's men, and were overwhelmed. You lot were captured and fit to be butchered. And Eivor here, carried off to be sold into slavery, a fate worse than a fine death. But there is one fact you do not know! In the initial fight, I came upon Kjotve, cowering in an empty house. He did not see me, and I came within two arms length of him. I could have slain him! A fast stroke of my axe, ending our troubles. But I held back! Why? Because I remembered my oath to Eivor! Yes, years ago, Eivor had staked a claim on Kjotve's life. So I left the bacraut (asshole) alone. Yes.
- Eivor: A pity, Dag, there is no one living who can verify this incredible tale.
The longboat crew burst into laughter.
While sailing, Birna began telling a story.
- Birna: A good shag story should liven our spirits! Now all your shag stories are surely dumb and swift. I joke, you are surely the greatest lovers, everyone of you. However, my stories of shagging are greater than most sagas. I once shagged in battle, inside a monastery with a kindred warrior. We finished on the alter, forgetting all gods and all spirits. You rise higher than spirits when you plow with hugr and abandon. I once shagged in the crook of a tree's branches, like the legs of a Jotun wrapped around us. We finished and fell to earth. A good shag is a great escape. That is my meaning in this story. If you find another, that is yours to keep. Okay, back to these swan-roads...
Soma of Grantebridge. For a time, all the ealdormen of England wanted her dead. A bounty on her head the size of Yggdrasil. So she met with the leader of the South Gyrwans and told their King Roffe, "Say that you killed me. Proclaim it to all of the lands." Roffe answered, "No one will believe me." And Soma shook her head. "Invite them. Here. You will burn me on a pyre for all to see." So they came, the nobles of East Anglia, north and south, of Mercia, of Wessex. They wished to see Guthrum's Valkyrie die. Before all, King Roffe pronounced her guilty of murder and sentenced her to death. Then they put her on a boat and set it afire. Yet Soma had constructed a trap beneath the pyre. She released herself into the murky waters and swam to a bramble. Muddled and wet, she waited in the thorns for night to fall. She then returned to Cambridge as a shadow-walker. She entered the city and stole into the king's chamber, and took the head of Roffe, shouting, "Traitors of Soma wear no heads!" The Saxons though Soma a ghost! A spirit who kills! A curse invincible to fire and death! What a leader, my Soma.
While sailing, Finnr began telling a story.
- Finnr: You lot have not fought a full campaign under Halfdan's banner, I would wager. Let me tell you what it was like. Rarely was there a song-of-swords when Halfdan set forth. Smart Saxons submitted and the brave were butchered. Soon, his reputation reached the hinterlands well before the man himself arrived. And Saxons awaited him with riches, not steel. Halfdan's march through England was unstoppable. But everyone bows to a king until his back is turned. Even glorious kings who have not known treasons will do so in time. Halfdan had to ensure that what was his would remain so. One by one I saw him entrust a city or a village to his older, loyal followers. Until it came to me... until East Anglia. I accepted my charge. There are those who bemoan not being able to fight and die on the field. But Halfdan needed us alive. He knew the better, younger fighters should remain at his side, while his wizened drengir served as his eyes across these lands.
- Finnr: Hmm, there was a tale of the man I was to crown king before Oswald. Æthelred, he was called. It was just before you came, Eivor. Rued's men had made a spectacle of the poor man, a Christian priest. And a drunken one at that, his veins ran with mead. But he had guts. Bolstered by his Bible in one hand, ale horn in the other. If Oswald bound the people with faith in each other, Æthelred bound them with the love of God. His piety verged on fanaticism. In time I learned that Æthelred had a following. Reverent men who feared nothing, and embraced death in the service of their God. More and more joined him as East Anglia plunged deeper into despair. Emboldened, he sought to purge the lands of Rued's clan. I counseled him as best I could, but his faith in God emboldened him. His courage rivaled Rued's, but it was all he had. No combat experience, no trained warriors. Just sacks of meat falling apart. Æthelred was butchered, along with his men.
- Finnr: When I came to England with the Sons of Ragnar, I believed it would be a brief raid. A swift adventure out on the open sea. I loved that first crossing. Sliding over the blue expanse, sea spray wetting my face. Hungry for new lands and adventures. Memories of home always drew me back, distracted me. For it is there where all the worst parts of my life occurred. It took too long to look ahead. But I do now. Halfdan's ambition gave rise to my own. He gave me an excuse to leave, to fight! To die an honorable and glorious death so that we can live in the halls of our fathers. One cannot look back, you understand? You cannot go home again. The seers know this. Our paths are set. My life is here now. As is my death. Norway is a chapter past.
While sailing, Bjorn Bloodtooth began telling a story.
While sailing, Rollo began telling a story.
- Rollo: In quiet moments like these, I often think on my life and how it will come to pass. The Nornir weave our fates. Everything we do has already been decided, even the day of our death. But these thoughts trouble me. For if the Nornir already know I am to be great, then I will be great, no matter what I do. If I cast myself overboard to drown, would fate send a dolphin to save me? Or was I always meant to a watery end? What is the point of valor? Of glory? If I slay a hundred men, am I a hero? After all, the dice were loaded. Should I do nothing at all? Why make an effort, when I could stand here and let my fate come to me? Or does heroism lie in not knowing one's fate? Facing your end whatever the whims of the gods. Perhaps the true measure of a man, the full span of his worth, is how little he gives a shit.
- Rollo: It was a man called Kjotve the Cruel that brought me to these rain-soaked shores. You all know the name, of that I am certain. He and my father, Rognvald, had some disagreements. But my father was never one to bow his head and keep silent. Kjotve's men came for him when I was out hunting. I was not there to defend him. And then when my brother Gurim also fell... I, like a coward, fled to England. I swore that in time I would return to avenge my father's death. But I waited too long. Upon my return from Francia, I heard the news. Kjotve the Cruel is long dead. Slain by the hand of Eivor, the Wolf-Kissed one. I am glad my father's killer is dead. But gods, I wish I had been there to swing the axe myself.
- Rollo: I often think on Estrid and my time in Essexe. I was almost a year younger and more foolhardy then. Once, the sight of her filled me with tempest. But those stories have calmed now. She did not giggle nor swoon like many girls I know. Wit was her weapon. She could unman you with one swipe of her tongue. But such grace. Such light. Freyja herself would not step with such elegance. Her gaze blinded me. Her words cut me down, raised me up. Made me a wolf, a lamb, a babe, a sage. Wiser men than me have been made fools by love, but not all of them take the lesson from it that I have. When I marry, I will take an equal. No more, no less. A woman worthy of me, as I will be of her.
- Rollo: I had an odd friend when I was a boy. His name was Nori. And by the gods, that boy could lie! Told us his father traded with the elves. Told us he had kissed sweet Hannah. Said he had seen a giant in the woods. Well, one day we decided we would see about him. So we dared him to take us to the place he saw the giant. He twisted and turned, but at least he agreed. The thing is, I had been out there already. I had taken up a big rock and made footprints in the soft earth. Heels and toes. Giant's feet. When he saw those prints, he went white as a virgin's britches. Everyone made out they were scared. And then... "WHO'S THAT WALKING THROUGH MY WOOD?" I howled from the trees, and I trashed the branches all around. Nori screamed like a maiden and took to his heels. By the smell of it, he emptied his arse on the way. He told us, afterwards, he knew it was a trick, but he never did go near those woods again.
- Rollo: Death follows in my wake. I do not seek it out, but it is always there, nipping at my heels like a faithful hound. Gilli was my first kill. He was twelve, I was six. He beat me every day, to my eternal shame. One day, I'd had enough. I decided to play a trick on him. I stole his mother's torc and tied it to the tail of the jarl's horse. Then I let him chase me into the stables, where I hid. He saw the torc and went for it. And when he did, I took my stick and whipped that stallion right in the balls! The stallion bucked, kicked Gilli right in the face. He never bullied me again after that. You know... because he was dead. That was the end of Gilli's saga.
- Rollo: I came to England too late, that is the problem. The Sons of Ragnar have shorn her of all possible glories. Everywhere I go, I find the footprints of men and women who were there before me. In my first weeks, I gathered many men and took them reaving. I lost my heart to an ealdorman's wife, kidnapped her away. But even that was not enough to raise the name of Rollo above the clamor. Other names but mine ring on the tongues of the skalds. Halfdan, Ubba, Guthrum. And Eivor the Wolf-Kissed. Like the trees of a great forest, they shade those beneath, and nothing more can grow there. This land is full. Its glories are spent. I need to look to other shores, where I will write my saga into history.
- Rollo: "Hrolfr, you are destined for greatness," my father said. I did not really believe him, not until Odin showed himself to me. Yes, Odin. The night was heavy and the moon was full. I had a bladder full of mead, so I went outside to relieve myself. My piss puddled in the soil, as piss does. In the moonlight, I saw my own reflection there. My own, and another. Standing at my shoulder, taller than any had a right to be, was a bearded man in a broad hat, a raven on each shoulder. His single eye fixed on me, bore into my skull. Can you believe it? This, the All-Father himself? He nodded once, and I knew, I knew. The raven-tester had chosen me. For what, I did not know. But I will soon. I hear your laughter. Yes, I saw Odin in a puddle of piss. Yet how many of you have seen the Hanged God, eh? That's right. Odin has shown me my path forward. One day, I will carve my name into history.
- Rollo: I have seen the shores of Francia now. Only a glimpse, but a glimpse was enough. I will paint it in your minds, my friends. How the wind stirs the trees, the birds cut the sky, and the lands are emerald green. The swell of those rolling hills. The way the sunlight dapples the forest floor. The maidens toiling in the fields, the sweat on their breasts glistening. O yes! How their firm buttocks tighten as they bend to pick sweet flowers. And the way they speak! Even an insult sounds like an invite. What else might they do with such elegant tongues? O, don't say you weren't thinking the same! One day, I will make that land my home. And those maidens will be mine!
- Rollo: Did I tell you about the time I pretended to be a goat? I am no stranger to the company of other's wives. But there was one beautiful wren, married to an Auld Blind Alwin. I could not resist her. So when he fell asleep, ale-addled by the fire, she let me visit her most private chambers. She was a chirruping songbird, but I was the braying buck. Rousing the dead in my ecstasy. At the moment of glory, the old man burst in on us waving his crop. He struck me on the arse and I gave a yelp! "Who's there?" he cried! But my girl was quick of wit, and knew her husband well. She convinced Auld Blind Alwin it was not a man in her room, but his prize goat, escaped from its pen. He dragged me by the hair, down on all fours to the barn, where he bolted it fast. I spent the night lying in straw and shit. Still the best night of my life.
While sailing Vili Hemmingson began telling a story.
- Vili: The last ship I spent any good time on was my father's. Quite a lot happened on that ship. Quite a lot. My sea legs are returning to me, but there is a shadow yet in the waves that stifles my joy. On our voyage from Norway, Thor's temper flared. The rain was relentless, and his fury struck the mast. Hard and fast, the waves roiled and tossed the ship. Trygve hollered above the wind, trying to reel in the hysteria. Father on the other hand, I had never seen him so calm. I grabbed on to him for an order, but he just looked at me and said... "If our fate is death, there is no worry, just accept it. If our fate is to live, then there is no worry, stay the course." I thought him mad at the time. But he was right. Those meant to survive, did. There was no fighting fate.
- Vili: How about the tale of the return of a jarl? Father was not always this cheerful. Not when he held his spear. We are different instruments of war. Him a spear, deft blows between armor, and me a heavy blade of steel, singing through it. Isbjorn, the bear of frost. My father lived and died by that spear. Wielding it for his people and land. But few saw what it did to him. It changed him, slowly but surely. A great man nonetheless, but one further away. Isolated. It was a strange relief when he lost it on that fateful hunt. Robbed of his powerful relic... he took it as a sign to slow down. And he returned to being a warm, affable man. The one you remember best. The spear... it is too rigid, too unfeeling, too fragile. And when the keen edge is lost, it's just a stick. The axe, on the other hand, blunted and chipped, you always feel its weight, its capacity for bloodletting, its burden.
- Vili: Have you seen the size of the sturgeons in these waters, any of you? Dwarves, most of them. But these vast, cold waters hide a monster the likes I'd never seen. When I was fishing with Trygve once, I dared to believe we had hooked a giant creature, a monster worthy of song. It must have been hours into the fight. The creature would not give, it would not budge. Untiring, immovable. But I would not yield to a fish! I pressed on, and slowly a silhouette emerged from the depths, thrice as big as our boat. Then a flash of armor, plated silver on the water's surface! A sturgeon surely! It thrashed violently and then it was gone. I fell off the boat. Trygve, too. Cold was the water, but nothing rivaled the smart of shame having been thwarted by our dinner.
The longboat crew burst into laughter.
- Vili: Do you remember Ingrid the chicken? The one that the wretched old hermit woman used to keep? I stole her, you know. We had a connection, that bird and I. I would come by and feed it seed and worms I had picked up on the way to see her. But one day, she decided to hop into my arms. A sign, I thought! She had chosen me as her master! I vowed to look after her. My young heart sang. I had always wanted a pet of sorts. So I stashed her in a corner of the house when father wasn't looking. Ingrid settled in nicely into her makeshift nest I made. But morning came and I couldn't find her! Father called me over to the table more eagerly than usual. And there she was. Poor Ingrid, boiled and butchered on a plate. "It's not every day the gods bless us with an easy meal," Father boomed. "But this one wandering right into the house! Now eat!" I sat and ate my meal in silence. Ingrid was delicious.
The longboat crew burst into laughter.
- Vili: The tale of Skolla should interest you. I looked for her before I left Norway. I wanted to take her with me. But you know her. She would have no master, no shackle. It had been months since I saw her last, and I was worried. Holding up hope, I set myself and an elk carcass down in her house. For hours she did not show, and I eventually fell asleep. Then suddenly, it was hard to breathe, and I gasped for air, waking only to find myself pinned down. And there she was, freshly sated with elk, sound asleep, her head on my chest. Nails ruffling my beard. I put my arm around her and we stole a nap like we used to. Then I woke again, and she was gone. As quietly as she came. Ah, she was a good dog...
The longboat crew cheered.
- Vili: Remember the girl Astrid, Eivor? I asked her to come with me when we left Norway. But she was to wed another. A deal her father had arranged. What are children if not pawns to their father's ambitions? He made a peace-pledge to avoid the fates we ended up with. Banished. I often wonder how things would have been. Where we might have lived, what livestock we would have raised. A simple life, I hope. Out of the shadows of our heritage. I even pondered the names of our children. Me, the free-spirit, the war-seeker! I was a stranger even to myself, thinking of her. But there was a stony look in her eyes when she told me she was going to go through with her father's wishes. She had a strong heart, that girl. She always knew what was the right thing to do. And I was not it.
The longboat crew cheered.
- Vili: When we arrived here, we thought the fighting was the hard part. But we were wrong. Getting the Saxons to accept their conquerors, that was the challenge. We pillaged and burned. Did what we do best. Soon their resistance waned and they surrendered to Father. In his wisdom, Father sought not to rule by fear. He bid the locals show us their way of life, he accepted them and theirs. Their ways, their culture, their god. Not all our people saw eye to eye with father and some made their displeasure known. Challenged their jarl. Often times, Father quelled the unrest with reason, but sometimes the square was drawn and the blood of kinsman was spilled. I once asked him why he would kill his own over the lives of these Saxons. He would only say, "There are no Norse or Saxons here, Son, not anymore. Not if we want to survive the ages to come."
The longboat crew cheered.
- Vili: My scars tell good tales. Take this one... a hole through my chest and out my back. Just missed my heart. The elk up north are abundant, so I led a bunch of men into the woods, and we found two big males, jousting. I had never seen anything like it, horn on horn, bone on bone at that speed, with that power. Over and over and over again. Until only a single elk stood standing. Bloodied, triumphant. Facing me, we were two giants giubg at it for food, land, sex. My blood was pumping. I told the men to lower their bows as I approached it. I cast my spear aside, dug my boots into the snow. This was my land now and I had to prove it. We ran towards each other, and crash! I woke up a camp with my screaming. The men killed the elk for food and nursed me back to health. It was the first lesson England taught me. "Don't fuck with the elk".
The longboat crew burst into laughter.
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