Day 12, Happily ever after

Finally after months of waiting we were offered a ship out of Greenland, it was headed to Iceland but, after the amount of ice I had seen it didn't matter where the boat went. Again the travel was rough but we made it safely to the shores of Iceland. Life became simple again. I grew old with no need for my weapons, in a town where everyone kept to themselves. It was quiet and calm, and fears and worries about my early life had all but left my mind. I was to grow old and live my life fully and happily ever after.

Day 11, An ironic name

I had no reason for living. My happiness had been killed by unknown attackers and somehow I felt that it was connected to the concerned look that Asta gave me before we were attacked. There was only one way to know. I had heard that there was a woman of Peel who could tell the future. It was probably a rumor but anything to ease my pain would be a welcome gift. I traveled the long road to Peel and it went uneventfully. When I arrived I found a very small village that still had pagan pieces of art around and I realized that it was most likely the right place. I asked around and was pointed to the edge of the village. When I approached the house a diminuitive cloaked woman appeared. She leaned upon an iron rod and she spoke my name as I approached. This was proof enough that she was the witch, for I never told anyone my name. We sat on the ground around the fire, she chanted and spoke in tongues that were unrecognizable. Suddenly she broke from her trance and told me something that would haunt me the rest of my life. "Life will end by your own hand in the land of ice." I needed to leave, the memory of Asta haunted me in this place and I couldn't go to Iceland because it you be the end of my life. I had heard of a place called Greenland and it sounded to me like a place where I could avoid my memories and the forsight of icely death. Although it was hard to find a boat across an very infamous Viking, Erik the Red had boats traveling to Greenland. I was lucky enough to get a ride. I became distraught as the voyage continued for as we continued North more and more ice became apparent. After losing many of the boats we came ashore. Immediatley I wanted to leave, but to my dismay we were stuck there the ice and wouldnt be able to leave for quite some time.

Day 10, Short lived love

Headed north for the Isles near Sand Hills. Every moment spent with my Asta was perfect, in fact it was beyond perfection, it was like a dream. I gave her two brooches my mother had given me years earlier they were as gold as her hair and fit lovely with her garb. My happiness with Asta was to be short lived for once again my love started to look worried and before I asked what was wrong we were attacked by a group of unknown bandits. The fight we fervorent and swift. Four rushed in on horseback and they quickly caught up to us. Two rode towards me and two for Asta. Before either of my persuers had drawn swords they were on their backs with my throwing knives protruding from their foreheads right between thier now lifeless eyes. I turned to intercept the other two attackers both of which had already drawn swords. I unsheathed my prized sword and attacked my closest opponent with a rage I had never experienced. He was no match. I ducked under his first swing and brought my sword across he thigh. Red quickly poured from the wound, but the man swung again. I parried, forcing all of my wieght to his right throwing him off balance. I quickly changed directions and the man fell quickly to the ground. He scrambled for his sword but only met mine right through his back quickly ending any misery he had been feeling. I turned to my last opponent but he had fled leaving Asta wounded on the ground. She waas gone... I buried her in Sand Hills alonmg with the brooches I had given her, it was the saddest day I would ever experience.

Day 9, Asta concerned

I kept in touch with my fairest lady through messages though it was very unreliable. I learned her name, Asta. It stuck in my head and was one of the most beautiful names I had ever heard. I also learned of the death of her late husband, and as dismal as it sounded it excited me for now she was free to choose her partner. She spoke of moving to the British Isles to settle and make a life of her own. It sounded wonderful! I immediatley wrote back telling her to meet me there. After grueling months of waiting I finally recieved word. She would be waiting for me in Dublin. Dublin had become quite a bustling area for my kin of late and I had been interested in seeing it for my own eyes. As I had served my lord of Byzantium well, he granted me one last favor. A ship to Dublin. We left early on a warm morning and I had a feeling this would be my last sea voyage, but a joyous as the sun that shined upon us. As I had expected the journey went smoothly and I landed in Dublin without trouble. Asta was as beautiful as I remembered but she looked worried and it troubled me greatly. She wouldn't tell me of her concerned look and faked a smile. She seemed to rush out of the city and we headed Northwest by horse back to a town where her parents and gone the year before.

Day 8, Home away from home

After many days of vigorous Varangian Gaurd training I was sent on leave, told to go anywhere I pleased. A few other men from my company said they were headed north-west in search of Rus treasurey. I had no other place to go, so I followed. We rode horses many a day and night into the north traveling beneath the stars on solid ground. This was very different for me and a longing for the sea was never far from my mind. But I put it aside for I had found something new to take me away from the mundane life of a farmer. As we entered Kiev I realized that many of the villagers wore Swedish style tunics and jewlery. This place was the closest thing to home that I had seen in months. I cherished those three days we spent in Kiev and met a woman I could never forget.

Day 7, City of Gold

Our recent retreat from Anglesey left my need for action still salivating and hungering. So we sailed south along the coast towards warmer more temperate waters. I had heard rumors and stories of a great city of knowledge and wealth to the east of these southern waters. So we sailed east still following the coast not wanting to lose our way in the rough sea. After many days upon dark waters one of the men shouted that he spotted a city as bright as the sun to the east. It must be the place of legends and the anticipation grew inside me. We beached our longboat and headed inland towards a city made for Gods. Domes, pinnacles and walls as high as the heavens towered above us as approached the maingate. We were questioned by men doned in glorious metal-work, but we didnt understand anything that left there pursed lips. Our answer was obviously sufficient for they took us to someone who dressed much like ourselves. When the man spoke I was relieved to hear him speak in old norse "Welcome to Byzantium" he greeted and again the questioning continued. We were asked many questions, where we had come from, where we were headed and for what reasons. Each man answered differently for each mans needs were different. When our host confronted me, he seemed shocked by the simplicity of my answer. I was here for action, glory and wealth, the simplicites any man needs. He then took me aside and said he had a job for me if I was interested. I was intrigued so I met him later that day. When I entered the huge collesseum I wondered if I had mistaken the man's kind gesture for I was suddenly attacked without warning. Two men from the left wearing mere leather tunics charged recklessly towards me, while another group of men maybe ten-fold glared towards my back as I faced the headlong charge. Both struck towrds me simultaneously but a few quick backsteps and a roll to the right thrust me far from their strikes. Again they charged but this time I knew what to expect. I unsheathed my weapon and parried each strike rapidly pushing their swords out wards and off balance. Their swords came in again sweeping wildly, these men had little experience with a blade. I ended their poor attack suddenly ducking with a sweeping kick knocking both fools to the ground. Claps resounded behind me and as I turned the man who greeted us at the gate ran towards me congratulating me. I was then offered the position as gaurd to his majesty, king of Byzantium. I gladly accepted and now wore proudly the title Varangian Gaurd.

Day 6, Ingimund's March

Apparently our recent success over Dorestad and been heard afar, for a stout man named Ingimund had called upon us to persue glory in Odin's name. He planned to invade the island of Anglesey. No small feat, for it was very heavily defended. But I yearned for battle, for it had been many a seasons since last I had felt the surge and frenzy within my muscles. Myself and 14 other men volunteered our weapons in search of glory. We sailed a single longboat towards the isle where Ingimund had said to meet. Along the journey we met with seven other vessels each with more men than ours. But we would need many more to over power a place such as Anglesey. Over the next couple of days a few more boats pulled up on the shore. But we were still short. At dawn we gathered our forces and marched upon the fortress at Anglesy. As the viking forces approached the stone walls Ingjmund realized something grave for he called off the assault. We had all boarded our longboats before Ingimund spoke of his unsuspecting retreat. He explained that he noticed English flags flying at Anglesey. The English had been known to help the Welsh when it suited their own needs. But I owed my life to Ingimunds keen eye for if we had attacked we would have opposed both Welsh and English forces and would have been slaughtered. We sailed home thanking the Gods.

Day 5, Poor Dorestad

Dawn was bleak, for Thor shouted in the heavens. Lightening battered the sky leaving us as only mere shadows through the onslaught of rain. The gods must be smiling on us I thought. For the weather masked our approach upon Dorestad. With each flash from Thor's mighty hammer the Frisian coast grew and grew until the longboats scraped upon the muddy shores. Thirty men leaped from the side of the sodden boat and charged headlong into the unsuspecting trade center. The ground was a slick as ice but it did not seem to bother those rushing towards their wealth and glory. As the sopping mass of muscle approached the town our opposition appeared. Fifteen armor clad men formed a defensive position between us and poor Dorestad. For a split second everything stopped... *Smash!* The two parties collided with a sound that overpowered even the thunder above us. No longer did I act upon thought. Instinct took over and I plowed through the first man who stepped into my way. My sword rang out as I took on the next opponent, it flowed as if it had a mind of its own a mind thirsting for flesh and gore. He swung at me three successive times. *Ting* *ting* *whoosh* I parried twice and ducked under his desperate attempt at my neck. Now was my opportunity. He was off balance to his left and I took full advantage of it, sliding my sword into the seam between his shoulder and torso. His arm flew from his body and became a part of the mush beneath my feet. The man toppled in agony, but his screams didn't deter me from my frenzy. I rushed headlong into the next man putting my shoulder to his unprotected face, dazing him. He was easy prey for my shining appendage. Warm bloody flowed over my fist as a yanked my precious sword from his midsection. I peered around to see that not one of the defenders were left standing. We flew into the trade center like bandits, snatching anything that caught our eyes. And as quickly as we came we were gone, back towards home, safety and sanity.

Day 2, Mourned In Runes

Colors were laiden all around me. Both men and women wore there most decorated and colorful garments today. Dalla a respected elder and women from our village had passed away, and her burial ritual was just hours away. Bearing my gift I approached the family of the late Dalla. I had carved them a prayer for Dalla in runes around the edge of some woodwork. Often times runes were sloppy and mistakes were common. But my inscription was further from perfection than any I had seen. My embarrassment must have been apparent on my face for their response was more gracious than I expected.

Day 4, A Day of Trade

We sailed to Gotland today to acquire some ornaments and sell off some of my father's iron work. The waters were fairly calm today, though it still churned my stomach like the froth upon the waves. I threw the feeling from my mind and focused on the placement of the rudder. My father said I had been born of the sea and so I would grow to be a great boats-man. Apparently it was true because it wasn't very often someone as young as myself steered the ship. The waters stayed tranquil throughout the journey and we arrived without trouble. I had been to Gotland before, but never had I seen a horde people this large. It was as if a sea of persons covered the Earth. Our weapons would be of no use to us here, too many people and too many guards, today we traded fair. My father's work was well known here and although he brought just a few trinkets I came to realize that the silver wrapped about my arm was not going to be needed.

Day 3, Harald's gift

My father, Harald, taught me today in the arts of blacksmithing. We started with the easier metals, bronze and gold. My first project was a bronze anvil necklace matching the one my dad wears around his neck. The molten bronze sizzled as I poured it into the same clay mold my dad used to make his anvil necklace. The cooling process was nothing but anticipation. I waited for what seemed like a whole season for the metal to cool. The grooling anticipation was short lived, for there was one more honor my dad had in store for me. He picked a dull piece of iron which looked like the color of the darkest moors just outside Fyrkat. What could possobly come of something so drab and uninspiring? It was plunged into the furnace until it was glowing brighter than the sun. He then lied it upon the anvil clanging his hammer down hard upon the sun laden metal. Sparks gently danced from the iron celebrating with every strike from his hammer. *CLANG*.... *CLANG*.... *CLANG*.... the sound echoed with every swing creating a musical hum for the sparks to dance to. I was shocked at the beauty this once stodgy metal produced. After many long hours of aweinspiring work it was finished. It was hard to believe that the dark iron had become as brilliant as anything I had ever seen. The blade, though hiltless, stood as bold as the strongest men in Fyrkat, and it was to be mine.

Day 1, A farmers life...

Waking to the damp and wretched stench was a daily effort for me. Luckily a warm cup of goats milk was awaiting like a smiling sun to my awakening. And it was considering no light peered through the windowless longhouse that belonged to the family. The slaves were already up doing the daily work when I dawned my biege linen tunic. It was a mild day in Fyrkat, sun trying to peek through the cloudy blanket that covered the sky. Today was to be a day of fishing and hunting. But my mind rambled elswhere, for today, if time premitted, was my first day of runic studying.