Viking Tales Part 1

Never would you hear them come in sun or light weather, their ships bright and warm by golden rays.  No, these men came in with the weather, said to be as much a part of it as the rain and snow.  So too that day when they landed their boats outside town, cracking sails shedding ice and snow in the wind.  The sun would not peek through, even at noon, and stayed away in what I might say was fear of the men who road the sea in the bellies of what could only be described as their monster boats.

Each of the three was cut of wood as black as burning bone, each coated with shimmering ice and sticking frost.  Along the rails the shapes of hungry birds, wings outstretched to overlap, the masts wrapped round with serpents, and the figurehead on the front a terrible beast reaching out to rip the ocean itself asunder just as they had many unfortunate vessels that got in the way; one a bear, one a wolf, and one an unnamed beast with horns like an elk and fangs of a viper.  These too were carved in black and painted by the sky with dustings of white.

Of the inside and the deck itself, none but the sailors who sail it would see up upon it, so I know not of what fierce designs pull themselves from the woodwork there.  From these ships three came forth the fierce men who we shared mead with that night.  Each one upon his face a beard of white, either snow or age to color it, and each one also had upon his shoulders a cloak of deepest blue that frozen stiff would creak and crack as they moved along.

With shining coin and plundered sheep, they plied from our small tavern drink to fill the mugs of every man, grinning and laughing with smiles sharp enough to cut a man and laughter that would bury him.  I sat deep within the corner there as was my habit late in nights after long days fishing.  It was from there that I overheard their stories, and of these I shall relate to you with the detail I can with the ale flowing so switftly within me then.

The first tale that started was led by a small man with a rough eyepatch  under his helm of iron and a thick spear of the same that leaned up against his chair.  Strong was he to carry such with the ease he did, and when he spoke the sense of drama was even stronger that the jokes and laughs of the men 'round him hushed away and a small circle of silence took the table he sat at.

"Have I ever told you lads about the firs' sea serpent I wrestled?" he asked.  Heads turned his way.  Some smiles and a few nods, some shakes of the head and curious grins from the men around him.  "Well I'm gon ta tell it the proper way this time.  Less talk of the battle before, less of the honors after, for you all better know those at lest by now."

"Aye, we do, an we've heard the story of how you lost your eye mor'n this 'un." said one of the smilers across the table in the shadow.   He was large, well muscled, and knew how to carry his weight to impress.

"Tha' was the secon' sea serpent, aye.  At tha' time I was grown on by ten years an' more crafty, or so I thought then."  He raised his mug and drained it before going on.  "But the serpent a'in't the start o' my story. the great burning of the gold fleet is."

Round the table faces turn more solemn and slow nods draw their eyes deep into the oceans of their mead.  Even I knew the tale, being a man of the sea. "The golden fleet was set a'fire deep in winter, back at the last meetin' of the clans, back what goes a good sixty turns a the seasons.  I saw them ships, piled high with looted gold and treasures stole from every coast we know, saw 'em flare in the night, from ship to ship it spread until our captains cut the lines and set us three ships adrift."

With that he motioned with his empty mug over toward the youngest of the group at the table.  "And if I'm to start in on the heavy part I need more mead."  It took a moment before he got up, wordlessly, and longer before he was back with a full mug.  The rest of the group looked like they were brooding over it.  Men from the clans were said to have lost half their relatives that day.

"Now if it weren't enough tha' the fire spread, but there were the looters tha' came after.  Our little fleet ran into some and sank the bastards 'fore they got there, but we were sore and tired, afraid to see what dawn would show where burning wood would not.  I had watch tha' nigh', and with eyes either blinded by tears or the fires, I didn' notice the dark shape in the water.  This'd be the part where I tell you I got grabbed, drug under and stabbed it to death 'fore swimming back up on board.  I said it like tha' most times, and most times I ge' those looks of disbelief.  So I go' to thinkin', if I'm gonna talk and get disbelieved, migh' as well do i' with the real tale."  All the eyes of the table do have that look about them, but knowing what I know today, I'd say half of them really wanted to believe what he'd say next.

"First a all, I weren't grabbed, I was eaten."