The Norway Stories Part 1: The Spear

Approaching the Peak by ThemeFinland

13 January 1028, Western Scandinavia

The Spear

It was with resignation Thorir Hund dressed up that night. The reindeer had come back into the paddock when the wind came up, but that was hours ago. His nephew, called he Leifr, was it strange, he wasn’t seen. He didn’t come to home with them, the reindeer herd he was enshepharding. Marry: something hap’d to him. In these times, things would hap to people when they were about. Some by gods be done, and some by Christian men.

Thorir’s farm house, common for the time, was raised up on a berm, for better drainage. The entryway, a little room at north was set apart, to better hold the heat within. The long, low peated dwellingplace had room for Thorir’s family and all their animals as well. To the southern side, across there from the entryway, two does and ere their buck were cloistered in three stalls. Down then to the east, the living quarters were. Along the southern side, there was a bench inset, upon which all the living chores were wrought. The firepit lay along the middle of the house, to warm each part of it enow. Along the eastern part were one partition off for all the family find it there, their Màni-temped[1] repose, on straw and woolen blankets down they placed.

The house were empty now, for were it only Thorir and his brother’s son, for Leifr’s ma had come succumbed to pox, in Wintertime, two years ago.

Thorir left his home and set a signal fire, clearly to be seen across the ridge to Arnthvir’s farm, a league away, next door. And trod Thorir, once seeing fire light, out to the old, low fence marked by the standing rocks, to meet his neighbor there, when chance he saw it too.

“Arnvithr, please come,” called Thorir Hund across the fence between their two low homes. Thorir Hund approached through the biting wind. He wore a parka with a hood made out of reindeer hide and fur, with mittens made alike. His legs were covered likewise, and wore he tassets made of reindeer too. His feet were covered up by seal and walrus hide, and lined again with fur, to keep the ice from stealing life out of his feet in this, the northern Wintertime.

Arnvithr then came, dressed the same. He carried him a little lantern; just a toy in face of jolly Skathi’s[2] graupel-games. That’s all they had.  They set out in direction of the grazing-lands, where reindeer found their nourishment for them, and even in this season well.

A league from there, the men came on the Christian sheriff of the land and some his men. His name was Asbjørn Selisbane, and he had quarreled regular with Leifr over grazing rights and boundaries. Christians, did they not respect the olden ways, nor olden boundaries. Asbjørn was without his spear, unusual: a mark of station and, may say, oppression of the heathen men.

“My lord,” called Thorir, “have you seen my brother’s boy? He did not turn return withacht his herd this afternoon.”

“Me seen? Yes, seen. He owes of me up a newly spear. He’s eaten up my last.”

Just then, the lantern first illuminated up the longspear, sticking down into the snow. Thorir ran up and saw his kin, his brother’s son, lying bloodied, with the spear stuck in his neck, through where the place his beard would someday grow, the most exposèd place for men who dress so thick in this indifferent place atop the World.

He was quite dead and frozen up.

“Your boy won’t took be grazing out upon the Christian lands no more, old man. Take this thing away. Or leave him. He shall keep. Ere, I’ll be back for my money for to buy me my new spear in a few days.”

Thorir Hund watched helplessly, for he was cowed by Christian numbers, and his reflex numbed by chill. Asbjørn Selisbane[3] turned to his men, and back the Christian settlement a league away, through cursèd forest risen to the East, they rode upon their dwarfin ponies.

The spear had broken near the tip, it’s true. Hund thought he could repair the blade. But naught would bring the boy back to contemporary breath.

He did decideth then: It would be war to wage.

It was the week that followed that, the deadliest of deadened Winter nights, when Sunna slept beneath the rim of mountaintops and made the way for Skathi to ply up ensorcelment across the lands, both day and night, when Thorir had repaired the spear and took up in the cursèd wood in search of blood and guile. Hunted he a bear of matting brown, of some proportion monstrous, and wounded it with Asbjørn Selisbane’s own spear. The bear pursued ere Thorir to the edge of Christian lands, where Asbjørn’s men were known to him to tarry when they on patrol were meant to be.

The Christian men, now zaggardly[4] with strong and brightened spirits, were no match for Thorir’s monumental bear; Once the men were wounded mortally, did Thorir take from each of them some of their furs and each their nubbing-cross,[5] as marks of victory. The last man did he strip was Asbjørn Selisbane himself.

He set off to the home of Hallbjörn, ere an ealdorman he knew.

***

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[1] Màni - Norse moon goddess.

[2] Skathi - Norse giant associated with Wintertime and Winter sports.

[3] Øø – Called an “O-Slash.” Most similar to the hard “oo” sound as in “double-u”

[4] Drunk.

[5] At the neck; a necklace.