Fiction February #2 - Brandr eða leita lofa

The second entry for "Fiction February" is a piece crafted for creative writing about a year ago. Having read the Grœnlendinga Saga, I was inspired to write a piece of historical fiction using it as a background. I had a twenty page epic in mind and ended up writing only seven pages when the demands of vague historical accuracy became difficult to maintain. Mrs. Pyke also thought it absurd that 10th century Danes would speak Shakespearean English. So while it ends rather abruptly, it was certainly fun to write. Also, Mrs. Pyke said that the bard in the story "is certainly some ancestor of mine, for he shares my verbose style." As for the theme, it seemed humorous to send a Viking on a quest not for some random object, but for love instead. That quickly became a problem, as you can see...

Brandr eða leita lofa

(Brandr and the Quest for Love)

The smell of alcoholic beverages filled the air of the crowded, poorly lit mead hall. Arnfastr the Dane leaned over a kettle of mead, half-drunken and bored. He and his men had spent the entire day patching holes in their longboats preparing for the long voyage to England, and they were ready for entertainment. None was presenting itself, and they were about to start stabbing each other when the door to the mead house slowly slid open.

Cold air and ice flew in from the frigid Danish night, and a frost covered stranger wearing a feathered hat crept in. All eyes in the building glided onto him.

“Prithee, gentle Northman, might I seek refuge from the winter night within thy mead hall?” the man asked, an earnest look in his face.

Arnfastr merely looked puzzled, and stared at the feather in the stranger’s hat. The rest of the men began to murmur quietly.

“I am Jørge, of Dublin. I have just returned from faraway Ireland to bring a most fascinating thing to the land of Denmark. I am a bard, and I sing tales of extraordinary heroes, to help while away these cold winter nights” said the man, hoping to catch their attention.

“Sing us a tale, and if we like it, thou may stay.” replied Arnfastr, as his men began to applaud their good fortune.

The bard removed his hat and coat, pulled up a glass of mead, and began to sing:

In the days of King Forkbeard, 1000 AD

When men sailed through

The land where dragons be

A young man, Brandr the True

Embarked on a journey…

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He knew this day would come, yet he had been dreading it. Ever since his eighteenth birthday, when he refused to join a raiding party destined for England, he had been unpopular amongst the clan. He knew they would ask again, and a second refusal would have dire consequences.

Brandr watched the Jarl approach, high atop a steed. The Jarl was clad in leather, with green designs painted on large shoulder pads. He had a long, blonde beard which was rather unkempt. Two Huskarls followed closely behind, their swords brandished. Brandr ran outside his house to meet them.

“Brandr, son of Magnus, I hear thou hast been courting mine daughter, Ingridr. I wouldst have none of it. Thou art not fit to be the son in law of a Jarl.” roared the Jarl through his beard.

“I wouldst be loyal and provide her every need!” answered Brandr.

“Fool! Thy name means “sword”, yet ye refuse to join our war parties. I offer one final chance to thee. Join our ranks, and I will give ye Ingridr’s hand in marriage.”

Brandr was an odd boy. He had no desire to help the King conquer England, he had heard reports that a new, uninhabited land, Green Land, had been discovered. Why did they need to conquer somebody else’s land? However, he did wish to marry Ingridr.

“My name means firewood, not sword.” replied Brandr. “But I will join thy ranks.”

And join, he did. He was given the armaments of a Viking Warrior, and set sail immediately towards England. There was a long sea journey, followed by a long campaign of pillaging and village razing. Brandr was an unorthodox Viking, and spared many victims.

The entire time, his thoughts were on Ingridr. He couldn’t wait to return home, to marry her. At last, his tour concluded and he returned to his village, to find that in his absence, Ingridr had married another.

Brandr was a now broken man. He could no longer live happily in that village, so he packed supplies, stole the Jarl’s horse, and fled north. He continued to flee north until forest turned to sea, and then he fled west until reaching a port. He considered fleeing back east again, but then a better idea came to him.

“Green Land,” he thought to himself. “I may flee to Green Land, verily.” Yes, Green Land, a land so Green, so temperate, that the man who discovered named it Green Land. It wasn’t like Denmark, land of frigid winters and colder women. Green Land was a fresh start, a new opportunity. He could find a lady, settle down, and live a life of seclusion there, far away from the cares of the world.

But first, he needed to find passage. He sold the horse to some Swedes who had just arrived in the country, for enough gold to purchase his passage to Green Land. He had to wait four months for the boat to be readied, but the time passed quickly as he dreamed of the pretty girls of Green Land. He often wondered why people laughed at him when he told them where he was going.

It was a long sea voyage from Denmark to Green Land, especially in a longboat. Brandr passed his time by growing an impressive beard.

At last, the Green Land coast appeared on the horizon. It was mid summer at the time, and Green Land was indeed Green. Brandr exited the boat, and began his quest for love.

It proved to be a very pathetic quest, as it quickly occurred to him that there were no single women in Green Land. Colonization had barely begun a decade prior, and single women could not afford nor did they desire to go to a land like Green Land. There was only one, an elderly woman who had no teeth…

“Thy song bores me, Bard. Perhaps thou mayest liven it up, or perhaps my men shall make ye eat thy feather!” yelled Arnfastr. The rest of the men in the mead hall began to look restless.

“I beg thy apologies” replied Jørge, a little nervous. “I was just reaching the exciting part.”

The old woman was actually a witch in disguise, and when Brandr refused to marry her, she called upon the powers of the pagan goddess Hel, who summoned a mighty dragon to attack Green Land. It was the Nidhogg, the most feared creature of all Norse mythology. Brandr was caught unarmed, and was forced to fist-fight it. The battle lasted for two months and six days, but at the end he was victorious.

When it was over, he was very tired and slept for a month. When he awoke, he found that Green Land had changed. It was now winter, and it was very cold. He realized that not only were there no girls in Greenland, there was also very little green.

Distraught, he began to inquire as to why a land that was arctic for most of the year would be called Green Land. He was sent to see a man named Leifr, who told him of how his father, Eiríkr, had discovered a giant block of ice floating in the ocean. Eiríkr claimed it in the name of the Vikings, and in order to attract settlers he had named it “Green Land.”

Leifr was very apologetic about the whole thing, having recently converted to a strange religion called Christianity. He didn’t think that his god would approve of such false advertising, and wanted to make up for his father’s deception. Leifr was an explorer himself, and offered Brandr a chance to join in his expedition. He accepted, and within six hard, cold months, Brandr was back at sea, headed west.

What was west of Greenland? Nobody knew. A man named Bjarni had told Leifr that a large, forested land possibly existed there, but he had no proof.

Brandr was becoming an excellent rower, and his beard was easily the most impressive out the whole crew. He was still an unhappy man, though. He didn’t care what was west of Greenland, as long there were ladies there.

Soon, they encountered many long, barren, rocky islands. Leifr was excited about this, as it seemed to confirm the rumors of a new land further west. He called the place “Land of The Flat Stones,” and pushed the crew on.

A week later, a strange, wooded coast appeared on the horizon. The men sailed along the enormous shore line, following it. There were many, many trees there, and Leifr, who always knew an apt name when he saw one, called it “Wood Land.”

As they sailed along the shore, Brandr realized that he had been away from Ingridr and his homeland for more than a year. Everyone was excited to find this new, bountiful place, but the social opportunities seemed very scarce here. He wondered if people lived here at all.

Finally, Leifr ordered the boat ashore. It was the middle of October now, and the men had no desire to continue sailing into the winter months. They decided to spend the winter there, in the unknown land.

The men spent the first month ashore exploring. It was a temperate region, full of open fields, forests, and meadows. Leifr named it “Meadow Land,” and soon they were constructing wooden shacks to live in.

There were ample resources to be found here, abundant salmon, wild fruit, and green grass even through the winter. It was a far better place than Green Land.

But Brandr still could not be happy. The life of an explorer was empty to him. Many of the men had wives back home, waiting for them. Brandr had no one.

Still, Brandr was stuck in Meadow Land until the rest of the men decided to leave. Finally, spring rolled around, and the crew began to get homesick. Leifr decided to sail back to Green Land, to tell of this new discovery. The men repaired the boat, and soon Brandr was at sea again.

Brandr hated the water. He liked forests. He wondered if his quest would ever end. He wondered if he should return to Denmark.

“But the night turns to day, fellow Norseman, and I grow weary of the song.” said the Bard, yawning a little. Some of the men were asleep, some were too drunk to care, but some were seated in anticipation.

“Did he slay another dragon?” asked one, who obviously had enjoyed that part of the story.

“Prithee, tell me, did he ever find what he was looking for?” asked Arnfastr.

“That is a song for another night. I thank ye all, kind Norsemen, for the shelter of thy mead hall. I will go shortly, but I, Jørge Brandrsen, vow to return to finish my tale, verily.” answered the bard, who then fell asleep.