Your name Haavi Ostri

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9,600 words.

 

 Ragnarok Glissade II

 by Haavi Ostri

 

Once Upon a Time Ancestor Tales Poems Songs and stories.Such were the matters her cultures children were brought up on. Children! Ah, such too is lifeBCE 25 to BCE 5 or so…

 

Island off coast

 

Setting Characters

Situation

Era

Dialogue

Drama

 

Introduction

25 BCE to 3AD DANES & Romans

 

 

The Year 3 AD

AD3 to AD 12….

AD10 to AD25 or so….

AD 20 to

 

The Viking age overlapped the Roman age by several centuries. We hear of the people of the two-prowed ships (the two horned helmets are an urban myth having no existence in the world of Viking archaeology)- from the writings of Tacitus. He reflects on the year AD3 on a report from one of the Roman Galleys exploring Jutland that year. Jutland being the North Sea coast of Western Denmark. It is to be the land of Hamlet, both he and Erik the Red.

The Roman crew sighted these most typical of Danish vessels; hove to and out of range of their capture.

 

 

In the years before the boosters the ambitious and the corrupted governance came upon the Norse Nordic Danish Scandinavian people there were centuries of innocence of outward bravery and inward steadiness. There was no need to promote oneself in the sagas or to employ the poets and the scales to raise one's name on high. Each man was the equal of any other and all did take part in the decisions. They called this taking part the Democratic jury system of the thing. Their parliament was the all thing the old thing: where all the people assemble freely and decided matters.

It could be, as in one famous occasion a matter of a Seer, covering himself with his cloak and lying prostrate upon the ground a scarlet heaven. Anonymously under his cloak seeking communion with the ancient one. Hours went by and yet one man under a cloak held them all spell by now bound as if by a massive mystical event. Which it was. Moving heaven and earth and the cause of his people. Like a prophet of old. Like one of the old one. It would lead to a far-reaching dynamic decision. Involving all the people and their destiny under the sky of freedom.

 

These seniors were rare. Great men of the spirit. Great mean of the spirit world of the Viking age: before Viking's launching out from Vik became the Vikings of renown. The Vikings of history before they became these famous men. Before the Runes of writing came. Before the Fame game became the sport of Danish king.

Men were anonymous and did it for everyone.

When all shared all they had booty or produce and glory and story. No man seeking his place above another. All living in a jury of existence. A random jury assemble now and again to judge amongst them in the governance. For the Viking world was the source of our modern jury justice. Completely democratic and completely demotic – understood by all. So that not only was justice done it was seen in plain eyes of men to be done. It was seen again and again in a regular pattern government. The eyes of the people are upon you. You would judge us. They seem to say. This is real justice in its purest form – uncorrupted and uncomplicated straight as a die, as a good meal, as a well planked two prowed ship, as a good harvest, and as a good word of truth.

 


 

CHAPTER ONE; CHILDREN

 

Who’s point of view POV?

 

The sun sparkled on the edge of two worlds.

 

The children playing oceanside. They are dipping their hands into the water. Like fingers of people building earthen huts. Playing delightedly with twigs and driftwood from wrecked galleys. Peopling harbours and landfalls to scale. Floating whole navies of fishing craft like bread upon waters. Ozone filled their lungs. Their high shouts of joy float upon the wet shining incandescence. In the sunny glare  of any sparkling pool they find by the rocks or tied a rooted dips in the stream's leading to the ocean: the seas that heave and seethe in the background:the dull booming sound of surf the sound of tumbling far off waters massed in an increasing crescendo.Their tide retreated naval battle noise distant yet poised for renewed assaults upon the new sun dried beach.

The pools are glistening and sparkling in the sunshine. The children squeal happily. The dull roar of the ocean blue in the background faint far far away from them. Roaring the children run to and fro. From the pile of driftwood not too far away. The driftwood has come down in the stream, the driftwood has come in from the sea, delivering all their wares to the children on the beach stop from the use they select the smallest and lightest tweaks the smallest pieces of fabric. Some they can pick away at holes in them and find beneath the little dry dust deposits of gritty sand, the treasure they seek the slight suggestion of bore-hole that they can enlarge and put a stick in. Thus they construct something! Themselves have created a Viking ship. Along ship of their very own a piece of wood that tweak sticking from its centre. This they endeavor to folk float in the little sparkling pools. The little rivulets that they divert from the stream to come the away small little runs of water that they can handle. In these they place the little boats summoned team sometimes just one slightly larger one: the big one. The one they have created themselves. They too are Norseman travelling far and wide for trade along the coast. They to venture out in this little dreaming boat's into the ocean of ships and join the others. In their imagination all things are possible they are lost in this world this little Viking world for the Viking children.

 

The tide is going out. Thus their hours along alone on the beach this little cluster of children. This little clerkship small humanity. This small group alone upon the ocean of the lost on the beach. It not far away are the home and dwelling and Hamlet's and hearts and little house fashioned by timbers reeking of the sea. Krupp a day to a child lasts forever stop so the lost and is as purely temporary, they will be found again. By their eldest sister or brother. He will come and look for them. She will find the stop they have no worry of any timekeeping or hazard or danger is the small scale of their little deities adventure. Building boats that blow upon the adhesion pool is, the water adhesion of pool tucking and restraining their little boat as they blow them the wind blows them along from one side of the river to another even sometimes upstream against the run of the water. Depending upon the breezing of the day the breezing as of the day today it is fairly calm. The ocean blue's quietly in the background. Like a vice of noise that is just there attached to their heads – so they can forget about, and they do, as always they do so familiar that are they with the sound of the sea. They hardly hear it is always there sounding in the distance. Sometimes coming close, as in a storm, the rising swell and a high time, and the Thai high Spring time fall stormy sudden water: drenching everything sometimes drowning the chickens but they kept in a shed or a small little tussock paddock out the back fenced in with some willing barricades and twine any ropes and other bushes and hedges sometimes a small stone wall but stones are rare in these parts the flatland of an island off the coast of the Frisian territory.

For that is where they live off the North sea coast slightly south the Jutland and with freezing is as neighbours

stop.

The children have various names some of the names that Norse name and Thule dish names from as far north in Lapland as you can get up the coast of Norway. Some of the others have Scandinavian names from northern fiord's and and southern Norway from the Vic from the region of the Vic outside of Oslo. Most of Danish names stop most have Danish names from Jutland. They are a mixed lot some with parents who are part Irish or part Frisian or part Saxon or part Frank or part Teutonic some even have the odd touch of Roman Gaul lushness about them. But all of them speak in their childish way – and are learning further from the folks – their older siblings around, and the cousins and uncles, and their parents and other adults and use an young people in the village, and even from the really ancient old elders. The ones who tell them stories. And teach them the culture and teach them the language through much conversation in low tone is as if imparting a secret, the secret stories of their people. From this they have fashioned in the tongue and little speech patterns the talk of children everywhere – and also the talk of their own nation, tongue and people's. The speech in the main settles on the dialect of the North Sea Jutland coast of Denmark – so they are Danes living as settlers and colonists on a Frisian island on a former Frisian island off the coast of for easier. On one side there are exposed to all this doom storms and winds and howling and witness and watering this in the tides and the waves of the North Sea the winds howled their back as they huddle in the of all their shacks the sheds their hamlets their long-houses this sort hearts and their sand covered buried wooden living quarters. That their parents have made in earlier time. For they have been there well over 100 years and live peaceably with the neighbours. It things are soon to change. They do not know if this nor do they care. Their little lives are measured in small steps than men and women do take. So they are at peace, and that he is, and live the lives of people who are so young it seems like they will live forever for dear as far away in the lives of innocent children.

 

Today they are busy at the beach playing. One says to the other some bright idea stolen from her own dream. The other agrees. The matter what it is. All is delight. Today they are Norse be in Norse. That is sufficient for them. Why think about? For after all they are Norse and they? Yes of course they all exclaimed together exclamations sign! There is then after all nothing to think about. The boats are enough. Mine is the biggest says one stop the others take no notice for they think there's is the biggest stop unless it is so blatantly and apparently so. Then they might say sullenly agree and hang the ends and get back to their own shipboard adventure in the sparkling little pot. The seawater is mixed a little with the fresh so much of it is brackish. Their little brackish boats in a little brackish ocean stop that is all it is to them – the whole wide world!

 

One of the boys called Hoder went away upstream and began to build a dam with sand. His efforts were quite manly for a boy so young. For he was only seven years of age. He scooped out great swathes of sand with his two arms and his two hands and his two sets of fingers and dragged it down to the stream or a side channel that he had found Andy began laboriously to build to build a blockage at jetty of sand across the water. It glistened and boil so alarmingly at him. It was so wet and clean and the sand was gritty and try and bit dirty and stuck to him. Nevertheless he dug in willingly even happily. He soon exhausted himself. And threw himself back on the same to rest briefly. Then he rose and stood to his feet calling out to them come over here come over here and help me. For his little jetty of sand was now beginning to wash away at the tip and if he carried on like this the water was too much he would not be able to am it up in the four for the four could streamed off on a level all of its own. It meandered away from the main stream of water rushing down the beach to the ocean and the sea.

His efforts were beginning to crumble and dissolve butter's determination hadn't he called out again come up here and help me he said loudly and then let out a huge howl and they all turned up to him and some came immediately running. One of the what is it you want do you want us to help you they set because some of them just wanted to mill around and walk but they soon carried little pockets of sand in the fingers and dropped the usually to be swept away in the ever strengthening slippage of water through the gap.

One of the older girls who was still quite young to 6 or seven seasons old slipped away into the dunes where there was a stash of driftwood for the fire for a fire for the adults. She came back with an arm full of twigs and kindling. And she said here use these. And she began thrusting these into the water like a palisade. Like a barricade to hold back the enemy army of water. Behind this fence the onrush of water abated and weakened as it struggled to swirled past the sticks. Many children now filled in the fence of sticks from the pile of tweaks and smaller branches that had weathered in the storm is far out to sea. Here the sticks were fighting back so arranged vertically as the strakes on the long ships were arranged side-by-side in their barricade built horizontal. The dam of sticks stood upright. Just as the planks of wood on the Viking long ships held back the sea and journeyed forth upon it. The ocean awaited those beheld the sticks.

The water began to pull fast before the barricade of stick reinforced sand. The wooden foundations of earth launched out upon the stream I could Viking shipbuilders work building a new conqueror of the sea. Would.

They together as children had launched a keel of sand upon the waters. And they had one, hurrah! All of the children had now carried barrow loads of sand. And the fork of the stream had been stopped in its tracks. Just as a Viking iron-steel composite sword stopped an enemy in his tracks. They had killed the ocean. In this neck of the beach and dunes and sand and stream anyway. They had beaten an enemy. They had won. Victory was theirs. They felt elated and flushed, proud of their triumph on this day.

Next they went hunting for big leaves and small tweaks to play a game they had played many times before. They all knew what to do. Dry but still green leaves, stiff and not too pliant and floppy. No, they didn't want their masts and sails to hang limply in the breeze as if on a ship becalmed. Each came back with something. One little boy Hanns. He had a big long tweak: these were to be try as bone. Dry. This he plunged into a big generous leaf from below. And threaded it through the other side. Forming a mast and a sale combined in one unit. Then they set about boring the whole with a piece of pumice and a scrap of scoria lava stone (long treasued)that one boy had in his pocket. It was good for roughly sanding the soft woods dried and bleached by salt water and many hours spent navigating distance on its former nautical terrain. This was sufficient to create a budding whole for the mast. Which was now to be buried in the middle of the wood standing upright. This was their boat and it was soon quickly launched. Joining all the others like a flotilla of leaves and twigs and driftwood upon the small ponded ocean that they had made their own little beachy inland sea. Oh how they had one over the enemy see as imagined today in the little thoughts: joyful little thoughts though they be. Of course the real ocean rumbled away as before darkening on the horizon – maybe a squall was brewing? And the hiss and the roar of the far distant waves at the fullest stretch of the tide outwards was like a blurry sound far far away, yet ever present with them.

Get off the beach at some point. [NOTE]

Scope forever – the boys particularly and all the children generally kept a weather eye out for the local conditions on the beach. Though there were knots and clusters of children far away from other hamlets and villages dotted along the coast. But this was the group. This was their village. Their hamlet had claimed this section of beach. This stream was theirs. It belonged to no one else. No nor to anyone else at all as far as the eye could see along the very flat horizon. This vast space of seascape and landscape beach scape all belong to them in their little ponding dam their own little ocean was the centre the very most topmost centre of the universe. The sky above in all its blueness and sunniness belonged to them and to them alone. Even though there was the occasional Viking adult strolling along the beach about their adult business. Either they were fishing or looking for children, or preparing rough nets, or cleaning boats and corals and skiffs for the Tidewater streams, or cleaning fish and gutting their contents upon the sand. There are few are sick bowels guts smelly – the gravity of death above which circled and Amada, the whole squadron, an entire air force of ravenous greedy and hungry birds – lusting for the blood and gore and guts of the dead fish. We all had to eat reasoned even the girls. Girls are sensible when it comes down to it. Boys are expected to know that something has to die in order for us to eat. Life comes from life. Don't you know they thought.

 

The seagulls didn't bother them: their squawking offered a thrilling contrast close-up, to the far distant booming and roaring of the seizing ocean. Far away of. Far away the fierce stench of fish full blown about by the fierce little gusts and breezes whistling of off the surf. The sharp tang of ozone and saltiness stung their noses faintly.

They were thrilled by the emptiness. Such clustering of their own close company of other children was like intimacy. The intimacy of the mothers and fathers. Sturdy and robust folk: direct and seldom speaking yet fair and warmly loving of all of the them. Phew there were that had bad parents. Though there were some stop. These were often attended to by the elders of the hamlet. And the wise ones who knew a thing or two by the hard way of experience.

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soon one of the adults came looking for them. This was is card the lonely Lookout keeper. His main duty was to look out along the vast sweep of coast to the north. On the other side of the island, for this was off the coast of freeze your and was held in Danish hands. There was another watcher on the shore. In their duty was to look for events coming from the landward side and report to the elders for the mustering of any of the villages and settlers and inhabitants that were needed to greet them or to challenge the. However on the landward side it was often not necessary as there were people frequently hanging about on the jetty and everyone was casually engaged in conveying that information anyway. Mostly just by going about their ordinary business. They would pick up all sorts of information about the events in freeze your itself along the Friesian coast. This was an outlying settlement. A colony as it were of the Jutland exploration of trade. And on that basis they were tolerated and accepted by the Friesian is on an island just off the coast. There was no marauding plunder going on. So the duties of the coast watchers were mild and merely precautionary rather than a response to the challenge of any real danger. More or less like a just in case option. Just in case there was any trouble. Just in case there was something new emanating from the Friesian people. The Lookout keeper on the ocean side was called Frika. He ambled over to them nothing to report it said? He was just kidding. He was not seriously inquiring that children would know anything of any potential alarm. His purpose to was precautionary, just to see what the children were doing. He never expected any alarming thing. These children were good, they obeyed their parents, and will always well behaved and polite to him, sometimes just for fun being a little cheeky. He was not worried. And he just sat down in the sand for a while and made as if to join with the children in the play. He appreciated volume Billy the things they'd been doing all that looks like a fine embankment he said of the dam that ponded up a fork of the stream you've got a great harbour there he said. The children barely stopped in their play. They were so serious about it stop they treated him as if he was part of their world they met him so often. Always just a quick visit. It was like he was one of them. He was so wild and slow that they could keep up with him easily and even outrun him stop when they had to return beyond the dunes to the fence and the marshes and the little hills and a looks of sandy soil where their homes were. The little hearts and shacks and sheds and little houses that they lived it. The little salt cottages. Built somewhat like bunkers but aboveground. Solid wooden structures covered with earthen wall with a sloped out of the ground as if they were little hill covered in greenery. The goats and sheep and sometimes the car would clamber up on the roofs of their houses eating the grasses and green leaves and mosses and such like things to be found there some tussock in nibbles for these bovine creatures. It was also wonderful. The days were long summer and there was a little teaching to attend to. Little learning to be done. Yet what was done is very useful. They had to learn the runic alphabet to count up to about 100. That was mostly sufficient for them and sometimes to cut things in half and cut things in quarters and maybe cut things into bigger portions meaning many small things out of one big thing. Other non-that their education was and how to build a house and how to build a ship or to weave a coral cook out of Willow sticks and flaxen how to cork small ship book Oracle with wax and/or hills and vegetable matter and sometimes glistening bog or ill from the swamps and the wetlands of the inner coast.

 

So Frika ambled off satisfied that he'd spent time with the children the minimum supervision he ever did. And they did cast a glance or two along the coastal horizon to see if there are any ships coming in. He was looking for fishing or trading vessels mainly. The children knew this and sometimes would point out these things appearing faintly on the horizon. For their eyesight was often better than this. But usually they paid it no mind. They were much more interested in play. Play however that emulated the adult world very closely as any could see. They played with boats and coral calls made of leaves they played with sticks to build Palisades Eric aids dam and even bridges and jetties. Some driftwood might pass for a small fishing skiff or a cargo ship or a longboat for warriors and explorers over the seas stop the compass of their world amenable to their hands, available to the scope and play was fairly small stop yet their dreams are a far bigger thing is in the adult world. These things they knew come to them later. For they had seen many grow up and mature before them. And they too would see younger ones in themselves being born and fed and nourished in the wonderful strong and robust ways of their culture. Were they not a proud people.? Needing no arrogance to express themselves – as they wore it naturally, warmly and freely as free people. They with a Freeman of the world the independent once. We are the Danes they said we are from Jutland and we know what to do that's what all the children said. When asked and who what they were.

 

 

 

=====================================

 

 

The children continued their play. Two fleets were formed and they began trading from one side of the pond to the other and fishing and the began loading the ships with little cargoes. There was much splashing about one boy tried to make out he was a sea captain and began watering the others about stop at army they said angler doesn't like it and you've hurtn she doesn't like it either please stop it so we quite down it was no longer a bother to them. He just went off and built himself his own duty sort of like a birth of sticks that he could tie has little piece of traffic to at the mast with a piece of linen that he had found a piece of linen's string made from flax strains.

 

His efforts were soon followed by others so before long they all had jetties including Sven and I would or junior and the other boys Michael Lynn Peart truck Tomas and Connor there are about a dozen of them and all even the boys some of them were infants and just splashed about moving random pieces of wood without masts they just imagine the masts that was a knife at them they just want to join with the others. The sunny day continued. The ozone is still assailed their nostrils. It was sharp and warm and familiar. They loved their lazy days in the sun and water. Long may they last they would occasionally declare oh they would say this is so good I am so happy I want to do this for ever they said meaning the ships in the water and jetties and the harbours and sales in the fishing and the trading and the keeping together of their own kiss and Ken children. They were all one together all united all people from the village and the Hamlet all of them Danish from Jutland to a boy to a girl. They knew who they were. They didn't have to think about. Oh it was such fun.

 

The long summer days continued. Most times they played they would not see Frika at all. The whole day's play would go by constructing dams building harbours and he wouldn't appear at all. The coast then remained under watched except with them. And it didn't really matter for nothing happened. Nothing ever happened on the island. There were only the storms in winter time to really watch out for. And these were the sunny days. The long and full days of the falls sons so summer.

 

When Frika sort of did join them he would sometimes fall asleep. And every so often just occasionally they would play a trick on him. He would fall asleep in the dunes a little away from them. They would sneak up on him. And giggle and tits and laugh. For it was strange to see an adult all on his own with his mouth open sleeping. Mostly that's all they did. Just sneak up on it and look at maybe to Callisto's with a loop and stem. Or a piece of tussock grass. He just snorted sneezed in his sleep and never woke up.

 

* Another time they had an oiled basket made of willow and it held water quite well and they carried this over to him and splashed it on his face and had to run away because he woke up completely with us are told yelp stop what are you rascals doing he said. He was most upset in Tele fully remembered where he was. Oh you naughty boys and girls he said I'll get you. But he never did. He just said. He was a mild mannered and even-tempered old man. Otherwise they wouldn't let wander off with the children which they knew he did. As is main duties was to attend to the fishing on the beach and the watching of the horizon. He wasn't like a sentry or anything. It was just a precaution. Not a serious business at all. For they were at peace with everyone. But you never know. And they had to tell him to do something so as not to hurt his feelings stop otherwise he had no other job to do. Toward the end of one long summer they crept up on him again and they laughed and giggled and tittered as before. However this time they crept away and they found not far away off from the dunes along the coast in the wetlands a type of tussock flax that had rooms on it long on the end of long stalks. So they gathered some of the and took them down to the upon seeming tea by the hundreds took the ages to do that. And they giggled and laughed no one said a thing as to what they were going to do. For they all knew that they were going to do all 12 four 1011 or 15 of them whatever the number was that day no one remembers. Oh it took them ages. It took them such a long time but they had such fun thinking of what they were going to do. It was a conspiracy of intimacy. Rascally intimacy. Sharing this confidence together. This naughty wicked thing there were going to do. What delight and full some fun. Oh the Mary choker at the prattle on freight and joy of such an naughty pad thing to do to the old man. Seemingly all is one one in each hand they picked up along from on the store with the plume. And dipped it into their pond sinking some of their own little boats as they did so. And to ranking it out the plumes were heavy with water stop they practice flicking the water and it showered like a dog shaking itself. They dipped it in again and then all in one body they went up the June. Over to where Frika was asleep. And they surrounded him from the dunes around on high. And they flickered Frika with the watery plume. Shaking themselves like a dog in the water emerging. And within a few moments he was totally drenched from head to foot. They expected a startled angry cry. In a fierce rising to his feet of the slow man. But he didn't do a thing they had trunk away from the edge of the dunes to run away but there was silence there was no response. Sony crept back and looked at the wheat and drenched in salt and figure down in the hollow of the dunes before them all. The sand all around was wet hot white dry glistening sand was now wet like a sullen tear in the hollow. What's he doing one small boy asked one of the larger girls went down and touched with her is wet from. He didn't move. A bigger boy raced up alongside her and poked him gently with this foot then a bit harder he didn't wake up at al.

 

Thank for a cast. Is if they had killed him. But no he had died peacefully in his warm sun basking sleep among them or at least not far from them. For they were his friends. And they were horrified this slightly mean thing there were going to do to him. But they merely added cold witness to his son warmed corpse. For he definitely was dead. He had died not quite alone. Not far from their happy voices.

 


They buried him there in the dunes. Not far from the children who loved him. High above the tide mark. They were all very sad. They would miss him a great deal. For he was the great companion in the watery explorations in the stream of life. From that time on the children at least called the stream Frika is stream. They felt no guilt or shame at what they had done on the day he died for they knew his time and come and he was one of their own play companions in the journey of life. His role had come to an end. He had long ago given up going out in the real long ships as he had done when he was a young man. It is never given them overweening unwonted advice about their own little coral calls and skiffs, and long ships and cargo ships that they dream would one day carry them along the coast and up the rivers and streams of more than this little island. For they were from Jutland were they not? They would Danes, heroes of the Norse – at least to themselves.

 

children taught skills alphabet runic alphabet.

Details of the runic alphabet- Photos of runes and draweings and Queen of Sheba alphabet

Paper boats and paper handling – down the seaside village in the hills amongst the trees in the workshops.

Whit Rune notices a girl there.

 

 

Chidren Youths Learning in the fields

Hero emerges

Who’s point of view POV?

 

After the burial of Frika it was decided to build a watchtower. It was to be placed ever so slightly inland. Away from the dunes and away from the wetlands yet on some high hard ground. Not in the sandhills but on a piece of land that had some real dirt and rock underneath it. The council who decided this was William, David, peer tears, and Clark,. They were the settlement elders. The leaders of the Isles. They sent a group of men headed by Sven Larson and Peter Tompkins and attended by Martha gripped who would attend them men's needs by way of food, vittles, and beverages. For it was hard work taking some of the books and the horses with them to select timber in the interior of the island. The best timber grew in a place of hills just above the wetlands and it was difficult to reign. They had to cut a path as well so another group of men were assigned to and any women who wanted to join them were assigned to cutting a path or a small road and selected to where it was going to be assembled at the watchtower site. The watchtower was to be like a turret it was to be made of wood and it was to be well protected and reinforced with crossbeams and braces at the top of the tower they would build a sandy pet there was plenty of sand nearby of course. And in this sandy pet they could set a fire and have it acted like a lighthouse in the distance and at night and install's to guide the trading ships home. For by now they had many trading ships beteen the Friesian islands their islands a land of freesia on the other side on the inland side and far-flung trading with Jutland itself and other Danish settlements on the coast for the Danes had stretch themselves out and little colonies all along the south Jutland coast toward stretching toward the land of freeze your. These colonies also boarded the lands of the Franks and of the Saxons and of the other nations round about them stop that Danish people were coming awake. Their agriculture was settled and very productive. They were accustomed to using the excesses of the dairy trade for instance in the manufacture of special Danish cheeses which were much favoured and sought after along all the parts where they had introduced them. And the people there wanted more of them. Pregnancy pregnancy was the frequent driver of the fecundity of the land. For it was the fecundity of their own people – the drive to feed their own children, that was the major factor in the extra excess they created. With this they could trade. Feed their own people and feed the world was there cry. As they set to work in the fields labouring for their loved ones. Their blessing had sprung forth out of love. The love of their own kind created within their own loin is. The wounds of the Danish were many. And their children and babies increased markedly. This was the source of their wealth. People are the ultimate source of all wealth.

 


The parties are men were assigned. The road crew was much larger and included such men as Henry, John, Hasselblad, Nokia, and Larson senior. This last man, though older, was very strong and fit, and he was very large as well. Not fat but full of muscle. He would do well in the work. Peterson was appointed overseer but really they looked to this last man, Larson senior as if he were the boss. For he knew what to do. A very capable man.

 

NOTES

 

(Account of how they fetch the wood – dressed timber on site – and drag it to the construction place – and what it is they construct and how they do it with pigs and nails and twine and rope and linen and flax and oil and wax and see which is staining is from the Marsh various such things – creosote? Or something like it)

 

They sent a man out along with some of his friends to scout out suitable trees. They went looking among the corpses in the small stands of trees just south of the wetlands and the swampy areas of the islands coast. There island was called AkoIsle. Some brief but high promontories rose not far from the southern end of the swamp wetlands. On the other side far from the village of the Promontory there was a thick rich stand of suitable trees. Skirting the stand were some fairly gnarled twisted and contorted trees. These warped bushes were blown about by the wind and twisted into shape. They were not suitable for straight runs of timber needed in the tower. So the men avoided those. And some two in the midst of the stand also suffered in this way from gaps in the foliage as protection from the wind. These other occasional but not so seldom ones also had to be avoided for straight runs of construction timbers.

 

Sometimes some twists of trees if they twisted exactly in the right way was suitable to be built into keel is as prows suitably cut for sculptural work and decoration at the fore and aft of the long ships. These types of timbers they were not looking for today. They may spend several days scouting out the best trees in the best timbers in the best long runs. And even short runs of straight timbers and lumber was suitable for the construction and the bracing they had in mind. The tower indeed was going to be the wonder of their little island. There colony would now have a new landmark. They were proud of what they were about to build on their Dane Land AkoIsle.

 

A few of the boys went along with the men. They especially attached themselves to the younger men who were more tolerant of the wayward behaviours. One or two went close enough along with the older men. They were intent on catching some of the longer lasting wisdom and teachings that came in a very understated way from the old Norse builders. They would give out small clues. They would say – the kind where looking for generally grows in the hollows. And things like – you will find these also on the shady side of the hills. Why you would ask? And they would murmur after a few minutes – these ones are straining for the sun on the other side of the hill. – They don't grow straight up or perpendicular to the horizon. – They follow the slope of the hill – per straight to the sun right enough. And once you account for the lean they are very straight timbers. But they're very hard to pick standing down here on the ground you have to climb up a ways and go along the slope. Then you can spot them, they said.

This was the wisdom some of the boys were looking for and which rune was among those boys. He was a different kind of lad there were few like him. And those few were his companions he had two best friends. Their names were a and B. One was a man of few words but very handy. Especially in turning mulberry bushes which were very rarely grown locally into usable paper. Mostly he he beat them and beat them and beat them again until the fibres of the wood mashed together in stiff sheets drying in the sun. This mulberry paper was very valuable. Once you found a bush to beat it out of. Sometimes you could find a whole tree of it. A rich stash for the parchment dealers shelves.

 

 

This burgeoning this life. That was their idea. To welcome the burgeoning. Burgeoning fourth was there cry. And many of his soul's son freely of the happiness of the full belly and the fall were combining together in the riches of the earth. From this they were much engaged in trade. They became known as a very busy people, busy in their work on the land, busy at their work on the sea and in trade. There was nothing now to hold them back. They could not leave the world alone. They loved it so. The wealth of the world was the wealth of their land. Trade became a watchword. And the lighthouse watchtower became the light that shone forth over the world. Their world welcoming ships and signalling a safe harbour. Signalling a welcome arrival.

 


Tests of Youth

Tests of Youth

Selecting garments

Equipments kit gear, tools bows, knives, flints firemaking hunting game, survival

First nights out hunting, sporting

Game of creep up on surprise!

 

Foreshadowing ice floe camp out 8-9year olds

Escapades  dangers found playful

 

Young Youth trips around island- to inland freisia etc 12-13

 

Teenagers Treeclimbing song of trees and wood, 13- 14

Serious childhood

Romeo and Juliet at 12- remember this is 500 primitive years before shakespeare.

Very emotional pure courtship

But they mature fast under conditions of plain death, disease child mortality and the need to labour directly and experience all of lifes doings.

 

cellulose, lignin caulting, cutting treating etc

Who’s point of view POV?

 

 

 

They sent a man out along with some of his friends to scout out suitable trees. They went looking among the corpses in the small stands of trees just south of the wetlands and the swampy areas of the islands coast. There island was called AkoIsle. Some brief but high promontories rose not far from the southern end of the swamp wetlands. On the other side far from the village of the Promontory there was a thick rich stand of suitable trees. Skirting the stand were some fairly gnarled twisted and contorted trees. These warped bushes were blown about by the wind and twisted into shape. They were not suitable for straight runs of timber needed in the tower. So the men avoided those. And some two in the midst of the stand also suffered in this way from gaps in the foliage as protection from the wind. These other occasional but not so seldom ones also had to be avoided for straight runs of construction timbers.

 

Sometimes some twists of trees if they twisted exactly in the right way was suitable to be built into keel is as prows suitably cut for sculptural work and decoration at the fore and aft of the long ships. These types of timbers they were not looking for today. They may spend several days scouting out the best trees in the best timbers in the best long runs. And even short runs of straight timbers and lumber was suitable for the construction and the bracing they had in mind. The tower indeed was going to be the wonder of their little island. There colony would now have a new landmark. They were proud of what they were about to build on their Dane Land AkoIsle.

 

A few of the boys went along with the men. They especially attached themselves to the younger men who were more tolerant of the wayward behaviours. One or two went close enough along with the older men. They were intent on catching some of the longer lasting wisdom and teachings that came in a very understated way from the old Norse builders. They would give out small clues. They would say – the kind where looking for generally grows in the hollows. And things like – you will find these also on the shady side of the hills. Why you would ask? And they would murmur after a few minutes – these ones are straining for the sun on the other side of the hill. – They don't grow straight up or perpendicular to the horizon. – They follow the slope of the hill – per straight to the sun right enough. And once you account for the lean they are very straight timbers. But they're very hard to pick standing down here on the ground you have to climb up a ways and go along the slope. Then you can spot them, they said.

This was the wisdom some of the boys were looking for and which rune was among those boys. He was a different kind of lad there were few like him. And those few were his companions he had two best friends. Their names were a and B. One was a man of few words but very handy. Especially in turning mulberry bushes which were very rarely grown locally into usable paper. Mostly he he beat them and beat them and beat them again until the fibres of the wood mashed together in stiff sheets drying in the sun. This mulberry paper was very valuable. Once you found a bush to beat it out of. Sometimes you could find a whole tree of it. A rich stash for the parchment dealers shelves.

 

 

 

 


YOUNG PEOPLE

 

Young Adults and elders together

Encounter romans inland from island flotilla in distance camp to from distances close up see fight training.

Who’s point of view POV?

 

 

Elder Wisdom

 

His POV

 

Who’s point of view POV?

 

CHARACTERISATION

 

Metaphysics lessons, vik, thule, origins?, Guigan of trondleheim, ; and so on oral traditions over recorded runes emphasis the living of life.

 

Reality over bards and skalds, though papermaking etc conflict.

Elder Wisdom

 

His POV

 

Which rune found the preliminary initiation ceremonies very taxing. They were very hard on him. The leaders and elders and strong warriors made it fairly obvious they were looking at him to excel them all. The pressure was on.

 

A series of tests had been set up. Some in the winter before this ring time of them men would. Manhood. Their manhood. The time went boys became men. It was somewhat similar for girls: it was conducted by the leading women.

And the girls found it hard to. But it was especially difficult for the boys. For wit rune to knew that the hamlet and the household, the village and the tribe of Dane people along the coast would look to him for future leadership. He had to gain their respect. He would do anything to earn it. He'd did not want it given to him as a courtesy. Because of his ancestors or because of his father or because of his family name. He was one of the alphabetise is: warrior scribes who sailed on the long ships for trade. These were the early days of Viking honour. It was from the quality of the work they earned their respect. The quality of the steel and iron they delivered. The quality of the paper, parchment's, and skins for writing: and cloth for wearing and lining their dwellings; this was the value they wished to burgeoning out into the world. This was worth the price.

 

 

 

Who’s point of view POV?

 

CHARACTERISATION

 

Metaphysics lessons, vik, thule, origins?, Guigan of trondleheim, ; and so on oral traditions over recorded runes emphasis the living of life.

 

Reality over bards and skalds, though papermaking etc conflict.

 

Her views POV

Weaving mens sails and clothing for all homecrafts, agriculture

Children

Teaching, growing, nurturing constant value as benchmark to measure variety

Nurture healing,  currency of community

 

Some work men CANNOT do ie have children… if women did mens work its value would be halved.

Then what would men do

 

Gender equation

Sex role assignment equation.

 

If girls did mens work and bossed us men would give up in disgust and despair… this way everyone has something to do…

 

 

 

Ice Floe?

 Love

 

 


 

ROMANS APPEAR

 

Jutland Denmark

 

Danes responses-wary acceptance removal of wealth.

 BEYOND 3AD 1

Outward calm

 

Tobogganing, skates, Ships turning on a dime, ice skating, skis, competitions games al la Bruegel etc

 

Are yachting races, board games lovemaking rare visit of an ice flow along the coast of Jutland he goes out in the dinghy with his girl and another dinghy in tow with a bundle of straw and he sets up the skiff sale you're and this dealt steak he ties up with a rope the skiff dinghy to the ice flow and spends the night out there by the light of the candle and in the morning the account by the village as man and wife like the taking of Gabriel by David.

 

The fun side of Viking life Danish Norse Scandinavian highly fulfilled lifestyle just like today.

 

Are there machinery alternative technology gently introduced in this long – preamble setting the scene and setting the are parameters of in the speech through I Telix the names of characters a gentle introduction to the beliefs but not very deep, like easy believers, easy field is fuelled

are fast food Christianity fast food Norse religion

Methods of navigation, lodestone, shadow stick sun orietation alphabet Runes why downstrokes, thin slats of wood for text; beliefs, social organization etc.

Scholars, seers, rotating kings without force of arms contests and sports etc,

Reflections on our own culture,

 

 

our love

DS

death

birth

marriage

six

our launch Jewry laws and legal system and governance

 Muni Solomon

ten commands

Jury

politics and kingship who are the leaders the concept of thing and all thing

 

Are the food

 

The the beer and the wine and the drinks the fishing and ironmongery

the industry and the agriculture

the manners and behaviour of the people

and this speech and the very various characters in various incidents small scale very small scale suit that you like them and get to know them are.

 

Accomodations Trade trips

 


DANGER

 

the Roman presents.

One day a room flotilla appeared of the island coast. Arrow Kyle island appeared to be under attack. The Roman fleet grounded itself at low tide on the very flat beach. A score of men heavily armed trudged over the wet sand. Phew from the village appeared out there on the wet sand is.

 

The armed men went as far as a small hillock. This was a sand hill in the midst the dunes. Rising slightly and fairly compact it barely stood above the dunes. On the slight rise the Romans stood and put their standard. A few of their men turned about with a large pole and attached various flags to it. Signalling to the Roman galleys out on the water becalmed and run aground waiting for the tide.

 

And shortly after more mean emerged from the galleys: plainly soldiers and centurions. Also fully armed with spears and swords and standards and armour. At their head Was a centurions. At this point he was in charge of just 50 men.

 

Gradually he approached the mean on the hillock. The Centurian Agrippa began barking commands. Some of the soldiers were to immediately go further into the dunes and beyond into the island interior. They were heading for the village. The Danish settlement. They were about to move the Vikings on. This was Imperial Friesian territory was to declare the new governor of Rome and freeze your. Thus he was claiming all of the islands for himself. Despite that Danish Vikings and their settlements having been there for many generations previously.

 

The Danish Vikings were not very happy at this.

 

What was to be their response?

 

How would they react?

 

What of the activities would cease and how soon?

 

Should they continue fishing in the meantime?

 

Would they be able to gather would and fashion buildings and build long ships in this colony of theirs?

 

The Romans to take it all? Just like a thief? Stealing all the good work?

 

What should they do about it?

 

Should they resist

 


Sven Bogha went once more to the boggy inlet. There he found his tautly strung and glutinous-coated, seepage-daubed, cattle-skin, strake-lathed Korak. A light built coracle he strengthened for the sea. Out of the flax bushes he dragged a pile of straw and bundled sticks with a roll of linen canvas wrapped in the leather twine strings attached to its corners. A wooden branch he shaped to fit his hand. As hefty as a mallet; he took this too, along with some pegs. Sharp edged and hardened by burning.

His nature mutant and morose. He was silent on all occasions. Yet somehow there was more life lived inside him than any other. At least it seemed so to the girl. She admired him; also in her quiet. His own silence was another matter that leaked all the time from him. He would lean forward to consult. If close by or launching himself from a distance. In anger he beat on logs with a stick. This too did the tongue wagging for him. He was not in that manner slow of speech. As he made the sticks skitter in dance with sound and extremely fast and rapid to the ear. So everyone knew exactly how we felt. As if he were angry at their hearing. At least he expected them to respond radically and behaved alike in accord.

He lived in the village on a small island shaped itself like a bar out to sea. And there was a bar at the northern end of the island leading the more safely into an inlet. He was a mute boy from some unknown trauma he had suffered as a lad. He walked on the ozone side of the island always on the beach. Angling his body for the electric clutter of ozone in his nostrils. He was drawn to it. The soft sand between his toe's. The Lupins in the tussock. The Frisian sky at his back. Teutonic swamp far off in South Easterly distance. The Western Romans had set up a forward camp a days journey away down the coast on the southern side. Past the cliffs and the point with its taunting rip-tide sweep and the whirlpool hidden in its shadows. The other side of the cliffs. That is away from the island and the village in the middle. This additionally also held a deep abyss -where the contents of the whirlpool, would be disgorged further inside a cavern. Visible only at the surface after a trek through some very thick bush. He was one of few from the village who'd dived into its waters. He swam like no other of his tribe. As an outcast to the seagoing peoples he had been thrown many times abruptly into the tide. He had been forced to encounter water. With its deadly liquid difficulties and its deep final embraces.

His disposition whatever the day was always tilted toward the ocean. He bent his mind and his understanding an his body and with his walk and desires and in his ears and nostrils- he smelled always the smack of the sea in them. Could not resist.

Above all though, he lived for is dance of danger amongst the growlers. This was frequent now for these with a decades of the cold ocean's. And the clothing had changed to suit this was no ordinary century. Lifetimes were like no other time. Double wrapped feet and arms, with a covered head, doubtless were no protection from thieving Romans and their coastal forays.

Coming back from one of his own adventures unknown and unseen by others. He had discovered for himself the strong power race which let out the inlet waters at the southern end.

Deceptively leading into the riptide on a one journey trip around the point. As beyond lay the circling water spiral. A geyser in reverse; sucking the unwary down into the vast subterreanian caves.

Many tribesman had been lost though very few women. Nor had any been recovered. They were forgotten. It was far too fearsome to think about. Otherwise their situation on the coast island was very amenable to them. They had a fishing, trading and transporting settlement colony.

When out on the ocean in midst of the fierce shrieking silence. He rode in the road of the ice growlers. As afflicted with terrifying fierce low cutting winds. He drove always forward with his specially cut wooden paddle. A stage platform built out one side of his slim skiff link, spinning, corake it had a cavity set for the tiller with its handle. Then a sail, or wind catching shelter erect against the howling siren. As a mast and canopy. All served to direct the ferocious howling wind. The paddle attachment which led neatly over the top and to step cut-out into it for his vigorous foot. Which mute could push down hard and release inner rotating motion swift and stopped in rapid moves yet still in succession. Pumping his forward motion like he was draining the seas. His intent heavy with human purpose and traction

A dancer on the deck of the floor in his ocean. his little platform twisted and writhed and he moved his feet and leaned out to add leverage to is thrusting plunges through the sodden waves.

He also had a smaller sail rigged to catch the wind against the tired like a flag of battle. This propelled them swift on towards his goal. For he wished to cross over the bar at the very exact time that the next sequential wave came over it. Crashing and sluicing amidst the ocean of swelling and heaving seas. More than ninety times he had done this. Sometimes with small colder icebergs, scraping the winters bottom heavily on the bar and the seething waters around.

He waited and watched in the darkness he moved from the horizon toward the coast out from the inlet. His determination was set on his face is whole-body trembled with the pleasure of it. A journey begun as born in its destination. He attended the horizon with piercing sight. Over and over each chop of wave the sharp dark smack of wave stop he could not stop could not rest. And there it was the rise. Beginning in the base of the ocean roiling up and over the bar. He headed for the swell . He again propelled and propelling. This foot is full outstretched. Leg bending. The other in unison with poleing and cutting full water. And his body sings together with his lungs. He conquers marine space by moving his violent convulsions to the icecaps. In time to the gleaming glissandi of ocean.

And across in the long drowning troughs of the seagoing brine.

The growlers were out there. He headed for them all.

And then you saw it. Almost straight away. A large one lying flat he raced toward. Hidden in its dark night shadow yet certain of its shape. It rode low and slow with the water. Not rocking so violently as the others: it was huge and big enough for this night's work. He clambered aboard. Staking a tough peg into its rough immensity. Is of wounding it forever. Tethering has crack aboard – that small craft of many speaking is and of many names. One could draw its very creation out of the raw shaping is of the brain stop

He listens well silent in speaking inside talks in his head. Speaking of her. Of the sea. Of the ocean far and wide. Beyond the beach bar barrier – a barricade to an inlet suitable for fishing craft. They are the Vikh: half a century late from the Dangeld and the further of all thing the jury althing.

With a sense of foreboding he heads out to sea again and again over the ensuing months looking for Roman's. Their blood more precious than hers until all are safe.

Village know of rubbish from stories of the past recent history. Men out to sea fishing ambushed. The sounds carry over the horizon. Mute boy guesses what has happened. Boy narrator viewer.

He is gazing out to sea looking at the growlers approaching he rushes back and swims across the inlet. Few of his tribe swim. He had to they threw in so often. Long the other side he drags is lightly built Oracle stop he fashioned on the Celtic sleeve model. Battles back across the inlet away from the bull rushes. Runs along bank – distracting them from village stop what does he see over the horizon like radar? A hunch, – is back to a small hunch in this – animallike?

An old man and his young concubine. She was a slave girl. The Headmans girl was a ravaged beauty having the sullen dignity of a Greek. Mother purchased as a slave by the Rus And brought North for breeding and companionship.

He sees the Roman ships appear three or four in the water in the mist the ocean at the turn of the tide around midnight. They are bold sailors. With this, the wind assisted swell, lumbering Roman fortresses rise over the bar, that is protecting the inlet at one end. There drogue scrapes some dull thud tumbling over the bar with them. He sees it from the swamp side of the inlet and running along the path is the observer to see that it all. Dull grey humpy shapes. The bodies of frozen tribesman.

The race, drum the beach, drum the Roman drum with their village song. Warn them. Warily. Yet with force. Force it is.

Bought is the Headman's concubine to keep them warm with lust. The girl was eager enough for the job she had. Opening her body against the groin of the old man to give them pleasure. When required. There was no love there or no ceasing respect either. She enjoyed what she had to do, and make no bones about it with his slow movements. He appreciated her that is all.

The men went to battle out to sea. They had gone there to drive away the Rhomish in every ship. Often their thin fishing craft took the beating. At their hands above the boating adzes and the kindling axes and bronze spears to weild wooden sticks. With an outer sheath of thinnest copper at the end. This was not enough green copper. Against an iron death that thrust back at them with tremendous military dread.

The Headman hung upside down strapped to a tree with a Roman sign. Tortured by slashes of iron fish-hooks tied in a cluster of leather bindings. Then they went out fishing with his blood. Crudely spearing crabs and lobster and small fish in the inlet. The first Romans he finds gone. Passed tide-race, beyond the cliffs point, beyond another inlet exit – to perish in the village trap of race, rip and spinning whirlpool.

And he heads towards the ozone heavy seas burning with plasma glory fires. To seek more vengeance.

The oceanic agony of the great depths. Striving to be free of their gravid wet and liquid drownings.

Launching a fresh sparkling day blue sky in flashes over vaster distances like miracles of vision.

Dark on this crackling horizon he heads out. Paddling twisted in shaped in deep warping deep – against the bending water, - his deep digging movement. He can breathe the ozone cracked by his own fast dipping. The crack is fast of beat: nimble on the watery surface under all conditions. Speeding dizzily towards its swaying and jagged distance. His arms a tireless sinew, which flashes and stretches throughout his hard body.

He yearns to be out there among them. As for the danger of crushing ice with his swamped our branch lath and cattle skin stitching boat. What of it? He laughed at it. In the year of the ice cold seas. He is soon among the growlers and he feels ecstatic with his perils. If life could not kill him what of death?

And he is gazing further out to sea watching the arctic growlers. Deeper, longer flashes of white blue: with green-grey at the blurred sight horizon.

Deep in the night.

Hugging the inner coast. Shrouded in mist stop between the growlers on the island. With the change of tide he headed for the southern end of the island - that with the rip out from the quagmire of sucking sinkhole. Around the cliff edged outcrop. A cistern over the void. A deadlier cascade it would be hard to find.

With the race of inland water still. Tempting. Easy of entry. Not so the exit.

He found a cleft in the aft end of the ice.

The trap was ready.

Seeking for the Roman metal. He saw ships hunkered down and covered over with the icy mist and rain. They rode with muffled oars as if attending a funeral in Genoa. Ice burdened their keel. A fatal mistake.

He sees them without any hesitation; unprepared, and he so ready. Hunting them with his eyes.

He unloaded. Throwing the straw wrapped in oil skin. Grease seepage drawn from the swamp. A pigskin full of it suitable for a fire stop and has flinty kept in a small pouch around his waist. He hauled his kayak carrack abort another name for it. Names that would passed through the centuries; in his day multi variant name. The beginning of the world name that every man spoke freely in his mind and could plant on its face for all to see. They did not need speeches in those days. . Many layers of dryness to keep from the wet. At a small tent he rigged up a small fire.

On the bowsprit rig he fashioned a hole with axes. To take the strain. Seating the angle tiller aft inside as with the mast. As he had done before- fixing them and placed with hot gushing urine streams. That stained the groaning berg with glistening clear yellow cement.

The Romishwere mustering in the seething ocean, muttering in their planning below decks. Before the beach across from the village. Ready for a second attack. He drove the growlers among them like cattle. he controlled the sea. And in the lee of its big existence drifted the smaller one for their clumsy destructive work. He was going to heard them into the Romans fleet. He set the straw in the sticks of his own bed alight. And through the bundles wrapped in sail intent. Onto the oil skin latinate covers. They flared into flames. Several vessels were burning. This sail wrapped or unfurled burst into fiery semaphore awakening the village.

The role most loud cries stirred everyone to warning. A threat was approaching! Beware, beware.

Vessels burned and burning several crashed into others. The Rhomish now confused. We are heir to mortality they cried. Distressed in fiery burning. The hot metal aiding them none. They sank in the waves.

Several older men in the village waded out and finish them off with loud grunts. The women gathered toward the Latin corpses. Plundering and dispatched by her mute lover. He thrusts are full blooded. His burnt sharpened stick is good to use; in the thrusting impulses of an enraged husband.

The villagers are waiting. She raises herself to shout, she cannot- a mute and beautiful joy overshoots her. Her eyes light with a golden sheen, reflected in the lanterns waiting for them on shore. She drinks this in. Golden lights of welcoming fires.

She turns from the light of the receiving villages her tribespeople. Yes, her people- she says to herself. All mine.

Toward him she now looks and looks. The two askance are one and his murmurs cry love inside. A union of her. She is like him, he like her. The mystery man as clear as day. He alone of all watching for them.

He drinks from her gaze. A sip at a time, a tired smile on his lips. He has spoken. They hear him. Love measured.

He stands there blue, cold and stiffened at the tiller post. Sprinkled with hoar frost crystals: chilly pallor; exhausted as death.  

 

 

Escape from Idyll

End...further story->

 

   
 
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