Across Yonder Horizon: Not Your Average Viking Tale
By Errnge
“Slip to the void,
To the dark, to the fall,
Crawl to the life you should have known.
You should never come this way,
To test the hands of fate.
You don’t belong here.
Peel back the skin,
Close your eyes, hell is born,
To the abyss, but be warned.
You fear what you’ve become.
By God, what have you done?
You don’t belong here.
But it’s all in the way,
You touch and you obey.
Denial…
But it’s all in the way,
You touch and you obey.
Denial…
Sever the ties,
Trip the wire, dig your hole.
There is a lie, and you know,
You were once led to believe;
You were young and so naïve,
But now no longer.
But it’s all in the way,
You turn your back today.”
“Slip To The Void”
By Alter Bridge
Chapter One: The Land of Wine
Gunnarr Gudrunnson yawned, and seawater splashed into his mouth. He spat it out, his eyes suddenly not feeling as heavy as they had moments before. The ship rocked back and forth on the waves, but she was steady, still. The cold northern wind had kept him shivering all night, despite his woolen cloak, and he knew that there were rats on the ship scurrying between his legs, past his feet, by his head.
So much for sleep.
Next to him, sleeping like the dead, was his brother Thorvaldr, or Tomas as he insisted upon being called ever since he abandoned the old gods. “They no longer rule these lands,” he would say sometimes, “The God of the Christians has come. He rules us now.”
Gunnarr was not so sure; he was not so easily persuaded by the parlor tricks of holy men from far off lands who spoke strange tongues and wore stranger clothes and shaved their beards and talked about devils and dunk people under water and looked funny and… and… Gunnarr was so tired…
Honor, glory, and prestige hardly seemed worth the trip. Gunnarr had been on ships before, he had even led a raid on a distant island monastery once, but the waters had been particularly unruly on this journey across the horizon, to this Vinland, as it was being called. The leader of this “adventure”, Thorfinn Karlsefni, a man from Noregr who had been convinced into this by the whimsy of his wife, had not made the sailing any easier. The man barked like a wild dog during the day, and snored like a bear during the night.
But there was no going back, now, Gunnarr knew. He could only hope things would be better tomorrow, and hope beyond hope that sleep would finally creep over him before the sun rose in the east.
He could still taste the salt in his beard.
Damned trip.
---
The next day was slightly more pleasant than the night before it. The Sun shone high and bright with a soft breeze from the north. Gunnarr, like most of the men on the ship, was manning an oar, while his brother, Tomas, perched on a keg of beer, chewed on a piece of dried herring. Looking at the two, you wouldn’t have thought they were brothers. Gunnarr, the younger brother, had black hair, eyes that were blue like the sea, and a strong jaw. His brother, on the other hand, had long hair the color of the sun, eyes like the earth, and a hooked nose. The two looked completely different, but when you saw how they spoke to each other, the way they acted and laughed, it was obvious that they could be nothing other than brothers.
“That’s a lie, Thorvalr, and you know it,” Gunnarr grunted as he rowed.
“I told you not to call me that!” Tomas said, glairing. “I have a Christian name now.”
“The name of a man, if I remember right,” Gunnarr said, “Who your priest said doubted that your so called savior had risen from the dead. The name hardly seems fitting since you are so adamant about his godliness.”
“He was courageous, too,” Tomas defended. “He alone said that the Disciples should follow the Lord to Jerusalem and die with him there. He was willing to meet death without fear!”
“If that’s all it takes for you to take someone else’s name, I can think of a great many men who have done that.”
“For the wrong reasons.”
“Says you.”
“And God says so, too.”
“I don’t recall Odin ever saying so, nor Tyr, nor Thor,” Gunnarr smirked. “Honor and glory with the blood of your enemies bathing the blade in your hands, that’s what they say.”
“Those gods don’t rule these lands anymore.”
A woman walked by at that moment, between them. She smiled sweetly, and, with a short look towards Gunnarr, passed between them. Her name was Asdis. Gunnarr betrayed himself with a smile, and his brother was fast to reprimand him:
“She’s married, Gunnarr,” he whispered. “It would be wise of you not to sniff around a woman already claimed by another man, let alone one married to a renowned warrior like Hjortur.”
Hjortur Fonnarson: He was a warrior of the bear-skin and a devout follower of Odin, too. Tomas’ advice was indeed wise, but Gunnar’s nethers weren’t so keen on listening.
“Oh, I’ve done more than sniff around that woman.”
“Gunnarr! You fool!”
“Ya, ya, give me leave.”
“I’m warning you, Gunnarr—“
Tomas stood up, but was promptly pushed back down by a squealing pig rushing by.
“Somebody grab that swine!” Someone yelled.
The pig scurried around, its broken tethers dangling from its neck. The hounds, tied up near the stern of the ship, barked wildly. All of the free hands on deck sought to catch the pig. One man was bowled over; another lost a finger to the bastard. Finally, a tall man with billowing red hair strode sternly up, took his axe, and brought it down. The squealing stopped. It was the captain, Thorfinn Karlsefni.
“You,” he pointed at Tomas. “Cut the swine into pieces. If we don’t make landfall by the time the Sun falls, use the meat for bait.”
Tomas nodded, and took out his knife.
“Have fun.”
“You laugh,” Tomas said, “but the pig’s blood won’t be the last spilled today. Whoever tethered the animals is not safe.”
Gunnarr nodded solemnly.
Time was both gruelingly slow and mesmerizingly swift when Gunnarr had nothing left to do but row. His arms grew weary, and the Sun was turning his skin red. It was then that he heard a commotion near the bow of the ship. As Tomas predicted, Thorfinn stood, sword drawn, over a man knelt down before him. It was impossible not to have met everyone on the ship by now, so obviously Gunnarr knew him. His name was Ludvik, a farmer who had hoped to start a new life of glory and honor in some unknown land across the ocean. It was a story not so different than many of the others who were on this journey. Gunnarr couldn’t help but slow his rowing as he watched. Ludvik’s wife, Johanna, a Christian, was gripping at Thorfinn’s sleeve, begging to spare her husband. Ludvik was silent and solemn, his long hair falling over his bearded face. Finally, Thorfinn sheathed his sword.
He spoke loudly, so everyone could hear:
“Your wife has moved me, Ludvik Bjornison. I will spare your life, for I am a merciful man. Go, and make certain that none of the other beasts have been as neglected as the swine now being butchered for fish-bate because of your foolishness.”
Gunnarr sighed. No one wanted to see an execution today. He turned his attention elsewhere, not bothering to watch Ludvik grovel and praise Thorfinn for his benevolence, but instead to watch the gulls squawking overhead. A rush ran through his blood.
Gulls meant land was near.
His muscles, and surely the muscles of every man felt a new vigor with the sight of the white and black birds flying over them. And if not from that, surely they felt it when Thorfinn bellowed like a whale:
“There! Land! Land! I see Vinland ahead!”