The Master's Voice
Author: Amleth Yngling - Date: Jul 3, 2004 - 04:28

To celebrate the season of Æfterralitha, the thegns gather around the raised stone platform in the Meadoheall, shouting "waes-hæil" and clanging horns of beor. Every man sings the praises of his fellow with poor meter and crude kennings. I am quite amused by their lack of skaldic wit, and I laugh to myself. Olga diligently refills my horn before I even empty it, and she does the same for several others.

Finally the laughter and loud banter settles, and the men take their places throughout the hall, getting comfortable. Some have female companions lying in their arms. Others have a cur or two at their feet. Young Hakon props open the doors and windows, for it is a warm evening. Perfect for sitting quietly and listening to nothing but the crickets and the Master's voice.

The light of a full moon is cast through a casement and upon the raised platform on which the legendary wand'ring skald Widsith takes his place. His eyes are directed to the spears and shield emblazoned with the Waetling arms, hanging over the door, though his thoughts are elsewhere. He dwells upon nights of legend and upon days yet to come. When the tale finds him, he speaks it:

Where gold in river runs ||| three swanmay sisters sing
Their lay of lust and love ||| while bathing 'neath the moon.
Then angry, anxious Alberich ||| whose eyes a leer doth bring
The Niflung nithing nears ||| to hear the sisters croon.

The maids spake, "Simple svartalf, ||| you 'halfwit hob' are hight!
Thy brains are base and boorish ||| and fiercely foul thy features!
And Fafnirsbane shall fight thee ||| and all Niflungs this night!
Tis truth we tell thee, truly ||| you cursed and cruel of creatures!"

And so the tale continues into the night...


Listening...
Author: Hildibrands Amaligg - Date: Jul 3, 2004 - 06:26

Hildibrands steps just inside the door, wrapped in his brown cloak. The weather is warm, but he wishes to keep his secrets to himself. He is a tall elderly man, with curly hair and beard, still blond, and deep, piercing blue eyes. He is not a poet nor a esteemer of poetry, but the tale is so enthralling, so skillfully and soulfully spoken, that Hildibrands stops beside the door, all his woes temporarily pushed to the deeper corners of his weary heart...


A newcomer
Author: Amleth Yngling - Date: Jul 3, 2004 - 16:20

In the midst of the Master's verses, an august gentleman of autumn years silently steps through the door, making great effort not to draw attention to himself. As Keeper of the Ford and servant of Heimdall, my responsibility is to make welcome all newcomers to the mead hall. And I shall make certain to do so upon the resolution of Widsith's lay.


Considering...
Author: Hildibrands Amaligg - Date: Jul 22, 2004 - 05:35

Hildibrands sits down on the nearest bench, careful not to make noise or draw undue attention. The voyage and the worries seem to have caught up even with his strong frame. And meanwhile he wonders about what to say, how to make his case. Not everybody may be a friend. He has to explain enough, but not everything. The House of Bern is not always welcomed.

He leans his head back against the wooden wall and closes his eyes. The tiredness he feels is more than fatigue. He has buried all his wives and all his sons. Maybe, after all, whatever the outcome, this will be his last adventure...


Into the night...
Author: Amleth Yngling - Date: Jul 29, 2004 - 11:40

...tales of men and monsters are recited, remembered and relished. Our enigmatic visitor takes a seat for himself upon a bench near the window, and is promptly served a horn of beor by Olga's son. The stranger smiles but is quick to conceal his shield within the wing of his cloak. But I still manage to catch its symbolic rendering: gules, with a castle argent and towers or - the arms of the Amelungs, the race of Bern!

I scan the faces of the crowd quickly to be sure Witege is not among the audience. My hot-headed cousin, during his quest for vengeance, had slain the sons of Etzel, allies of Thidrek of Bern. The Waetlings have since become enemies of the Amelungs. So who is this stranger? Thidrek's spy? Or merely an expatriate hoping to start anew? The world is changing swiftly, with races crossing their borders, looking for new beginnings. Do the Amelungs plan to make peace with the Waetlings and Nibelungs? Or is our strange visitor a harbinger of war?


A touch of warmth
Author: Hildibrands Amaligg - Date: Jul 30, 2004 - 19:43

The boy hands me the beor, and I catch a glimpse of a good-looking woman, his mother probably, looking at the heall from a curtained door. Ah, were I a score winters younger, I could court her. Where are last winter's snows, indeed.

A man has been looking at me for a moment too long. I think the moment of truth is at hand. And I still do not have a plausible explanation. Well. I always preferred action to words...


Men of actions
Author: Amleth Yngling - Date: Jul 31, 2004 - 02:53

He suspects I may know of his people, I can tell. I decide to approach the Amelung in peace, offering hospitality, as I've been instructed by Heimdall. I smile at the old gent, rise from my seat, and step toward him. In an instant he is on his feet and out the door of the hall, as though he had urgent business elsewhere. He thinks I mean to imprison him, or worse.

I follow swiftly out the door, into the night, but there is no one to be seen. The light of a halfmoon, a docked longboat and the misty fiord. Little else. I turn to enter the hall once again when I am thrown to the ground. My hand is upon the hilt of my sword - Weyland's Victory - the Mistilteinn. But before I can draw it, the stranger is standing before me with the point of his sword at my throat.


An exchange between gentlemen
Author: Hildibrands Amaligg - Date: Jul 31, 2004 - 05:08

I smile down at the man. "A precautionary measure," I say. "I feel safer out here. But I come in peace."

Despite this, my sword remains where it is. A cold salty wind comes up behind me. "Shall I expect the same from you?"


Break of day
Author: Amleth Yngling - Date: Aug 3, 2004 - 18:53

By night, the stranger from Bern appears to be a rogue on the run, of esoteric wisdom and an appetite for danger. But moonlight can be cruelly deceptive. Presently, dawn breaks across the water, and rays of morning penetrate the mist. By day, the stranger appears to be a tired, world-weary warhorse, a thane of countless tales, great compassion and kindly advice. I even see some of my own father in the sharp angles of the stranger's face. Whoever he is, I believe him.

"I trust that my brother, the Eorl, has nothing to fear of your presence in Ulfdael, stranger," I say as the Amelung offers his arm to me. About that time, I notice that the twin ravens, Hugin and Mugin, have perched upon the giant stone outside the hall. I look upwards, suspiciously. Woden's watching. The stranger notices the ravens, as well, but quickly ignores it. After pulling me to my feet, he introduces himself...


Honour and lies
Author: Hildibrands Amaligg - Date: Aug 7, 2004 - 17:16

As I sheathe Lagulf, I glance suspiciously at the ravens. The gods and I are barely on speaking terms - but this time what I ask is not for me, and I hope they will grant it.

The young man has a keen gaze. I believe he will see through my cover like an arrow through a waterfall. But I will carry on with my plan and decide what to do as I go along, while waiting for the sun to warm my bones.

"I do not think I know whose lands are these, lad," I say quite truthfully. "I have wandered long in the storm and lost my way. My name is Boltram. I am looking for my son, Sintram. He left home some days ago and never returned. This is the only reason why I am here, drinking your brother's beer, though in other circumstances I would be glad to be here just for the pleasure of your remarkable hospitality."


Introductions
Author: Amleth Yngling - Date: Aug 10, 2004 - 11:42

Boltram of Bern... I repeat in my head. The name sounds familiar, though I am unsure why. Though we're watched by Woden's ravens, I continue to speak in full voice.

"Welcome, Boltram, to my brother Wulder's eorldom at Ydalir. This village is Ulfdael, where refugees of many lands have gathered, paying fealty to Wulder for his protection. You are his guest while you are here. I am Amleth, eldest son of Earendel, son of Wate. Due to my frequent travels, I've left the eorldom to my brother. Unfortunately, I fear you have come at a dark hour, my lord. We are not in favor with the... Aesir, I believe you call them. But they have wronged the Waetlings sorely, so we think little of them, as well. As a result, the Waetlings have been little more than slaves to the Scyldings, Woden's pride, who until recently owned our lands. We fear they will call upon the Aesir very soon to take back Ydalir from the sons of Wate."

Suddenly aware of the gloom I've ushered into this bright new day, I come to a close, "Until that time comes, however, you are most welome to Ulfdael. Now tell me, where was your son's business prior to his disappearance?"


Treading carefully
Author: Hildibrands Amaligg - Date: Aug 12, 2004 - 17:21

I nod slowly. "I know this place, and the fame of your names has travelled far, noble scion of Wate. I had not realized I had wandered so much in the storm." I want to ask more about their business with the Aesir - it is remarkable to me how someone could be in such close terms with them, when I am so skeptic about them being able to grant me my wishes - but looking too interested could awaken his suspicions again, and this would not do.

"I thank you for your welcome, Amleth, and I wish I could help you," I say, sincerely. Do not get yourself too involved, now. You always like a good fight, but this could be too big for you. Remember, you are a warrior, not a thinker.

"My son, now, he could help you too. Though I find it unlikely that he could have travelled this far. What to say? He breeds horses..." This one I borrowed from that other crazy lad, Heyme. "If by chance you have seen him, he is a tall young man with blond hair, but there is a sure way of identifying him: he is always in the middle of mayhem."

There is a surer one, but it would be too dangerous to mention it.


A long distance
Author: Amleth Yngling - Date: Aug 18, 2004 - 11:11

"You are indeed a great distance from Niflungland, my lord," I answer, "And even farther from Amelungland. If we need to do some travelling, friend, I can be of some help to you." I go to a horsecart and remove a woolen tarp, uncovering a compact, sled-like machine. The sled is remarkably light, which always surprises me at first. The Amelung watches me as I wade out into the fiord and place the sled into the water. I pull a lever and wade back to shore, as the whirring gadget begins its fantastic transformation.

"Though we Waetlings aren't on the best of terms with the Aesir as a family, I have one or two friends among the Vanir who have proven to be valuable assets. Behold, Skidbladnir!"


Diffidence
Author: Hildibrands Amaligg - Date: Aug 19, 2004 - 12:11

I step back sharply, my hand on the pummel of my sword, staring wide-eyed at the mysterious contraption that the young man has unveiled. If only my horse had not collapsed with fatigue on the previous day, leaving me stranded! That is what I trust - horses, and my own feet. Poor faithful beast, by now the ravens will have picked him clean.

I do not quite draw Lagulf. I eye the young man warily, and with undeniable curiosity. "Is this magic?" I ask gruffly. "How does it work?"


Skidbladnir
Author: Amleth Yngling - Date: Aug 21, 2004 - 03:46

"A trick of the trade, my lord Boltram," I answer the cautious Amelung. "My father and his brother were once smiths by trade, and every object they fashioned was varnished with some eldritch property - the magicks of the Dark-Elves."

As I speak, the sled magically unfolds from its compact state. Wooden flats and iron bolts and rivets emerge, rotate and shift, fitting together like puzzle pieces, into an enormous, seaworthy longship, complete with mast and oars. From a compartment within the mast ejects a great billowing sail, afixed and ready for action upon the waves.

The Goth appears to be unaccustomed to sea travel, as I can already see the sick, lime hue in his complexion. And if he was one of Thidrek's that had long been in Hunnish and Burgundian territories, he may not have even seen the sea in decades.

I finally offer my thoughts: "Perhaps Sintram was taken to one of the other worlds. It may explain his not being found closer to home. I don't dare enter Asgard or beyond without Skidbladnir. Aboard this vessel, we may go where we please without the gods getting nosy. Shall we climb aboard and search by sea or leave the ship here for Frea, its owner?"


Composure!
Author: Hildibrands Amaligg - Date: Aug 21, 2004 - 09:02

I try to relax as the amazing transformation takes place before my stunned eyes. If I keep looking so shocked, Amleth might think that I am... afraid! This of course cannot happen, ever.

The young man looks smug, with just a glint of craziness in his eyes. But I am used to being surrounded with crazy young men, always ready to go off and fight giants or dragons or neighbouring kings if nothing else is available. This makes me actually feel a wave of fond trust towards him.

I clear my throat. "Wery well," I say. "Let me pay for my drinks at the inn, and then we can leave."

For where, I really do not know. My knowledge of geography is scarce, as my wanderings have made clear. In the past I have only needed to be pointed in the direction of the enemy. Other worlds? Asgard? I suppress a shiver. Surely Amleth is joking?


All aboard!
Author: Amleth Yngling - Date: Aug 24, 2004 - 13:01

In the misty vik that leads to the mead-hall's doorstep, Skidbladnir drifts proudly, like a dragon upon a cloud. The sunlight glistens upon her billowing sail and dances across her golden knotwork embellishments.

When Boltram disappears back into the inn to pay for his drink, I climb the rope ladder and board the marvellous vessel. With my arms folded in front of me, I stand at the prow and gaze beyond Ydalir toward the strange waters, mountains and valleys that await us.


Take a deep breath...
Author: Hildibrands Amaligg - Date: Aug 25, 2004 - 19:09

As I pay the lovely hostess and rumple her little son's hair, I feel like it is my farewell to solid land for a while. But let it never be said that Hildibrands, son of Herebrands, hesitates before a challenge! And I should be grateful that even in my old age new experiences keep coming my way.

I step out, walk to the shore and climb the rope ladder. The shield on my back, my helmet, my sword do not help, but finally it is done. I walk on the deck and see Amleth on the prow. I hide a smile. Definitely I recognize the style. It will not be a bad trip.

"So," I begin, "is this thing going to move by itself too?"


Our map
Author: Amleth Yngling - Date: Aug 30, 2004 - 15:08

From the fore of Skidbladnir, the worlds are magically revealed to our eyes and their great expanses can be observed in fantastic detail. In one direction loom the fiery mountains and chasms of Muspell. In another stand the rime-fringed halls of the frost giants. The spires of the kingdoms of Alfheim hold up yet another corner of the heavens, but the greatest, most glorious branch of Yggdrasil is the furthest yet - Asgard! And the fickle Bifrost is in view!

Boltram and I gaze across the horizon and into the firmament, taking in the splendor of the Nine Worlds. "It is no wonder Frea could navigate without a map!" I laugh aloud, drunk with awe.


Wondering...
Author: Hildibrands Amaligg - Date: Sep 1, 2004 - 09:11

After carefully negotiating the length of the deck, I find myself at last standing on the fore beside my young friend. There, it was not that bad. I take my helmet off and breathe in the sea air. Much better. And even for an old earthy warrior like me, the spectacle is enough to make me forget any discomfort. Confusedly, I am aware that what I am seeing goes much beyond my human experience.

I heave a sigh of worry. My "son" would go crazy for such a landscape. So many strange new places to pick a fight! I smile fondly. I am sure that where we are going we will find some traces of him...

"By the way," I ask Amleth, turning towards him, "where *are* we going?"

This story continues on The Sea.