Stay and listen for now it's told,
of times imperiled by the damned,
their legion horde and ye enslaved
to those who yearned to catch the sun,
to devour God's great candle,
embrace the gloom that was their lot.
To the shores of Winter and Frost
came the Einherjar on their ships.
From whence they sailed it is not known,
but came they here with linden targs,
blades of Iron forged in fire,
tempered with the blood of their foes.
Fearless in war, impure at heart,
to bend thy neck with iron will
a fist of stone to rule thy hearth.
On they came, gnashing teeth and bone,
and arose as one we met them.
On the shores of Winter and Frost.
The hosts of Narvik gathered
at the slackening of the tide.
Arrayed before the Einherjar,
we brandished our swords and spears.
On they came from the sea in waves,
with shouting and gnashing of teeth.
Across the ground they came yelling
and beating their targs with their spears.
The sun shone weakly in the sky
it would not set for two more weeks.
The hosts of Narvik stood alone.
Stood they against the Einherjar.
The great protector would not come.
They prayed for the darkness to fall,
to blot out the cursed sunlight.
Only with the night did he wake
and ride forth to claim his tribute.
Their clamouring fell on deaf ears.
They set their backs and formed the walls
of targs and bristling iron heads.
The Host and the Einherjar stood
across a silent space of land
soon to be flooded by the sea
The tide had begun to return.
They charged and battle ensued.
Axes and blades smashed the targs.
Living flesh was rent with great pain.
Hewn and severed fell their limbs.
The Host of Narvik, would not flee,
stood nose to nose and toe to toe.
The sea turned red with all the blood
that spilled from friend and foe alike.
The battle turned with the sea.
The Host of Narvik sent them home.
The Invaders stood out to sea.
The sun would not set for two weeks.
Last edited by Gunnar on Mon Nov 29, 2004 5:19 am; edited 3 times in total
((Yeah, it's coming, writing in Laisic Verse is a bitch. Dunno why I am doing it this way other than the challenge of writing octosyllabic verses. I see I messed up the 2nd chapter. Was supposed to be 3 stanzas of 6. I only gots two. Woopsie)).
((Righto... I fixed it Now we can continue in the lovely 666 motif. Supposedly the bards of old fell into a scheme similar to poem's meter wherein each section would have the same number of lines throughout the piece. I sorta came upon 666 by accident, smirked slightly, then continued on with it. I doubt this story will all be done in this fashion, for although I suppose it would interesting to come up with, it would boring as hell to read.))
Joined: 10 Jul 2003
Location: Seattle, Washington, USA
Well, being a pattern-type of person, I did take a brief note of the off-meter but just ignored it in favor of relishing the imagery.
As to this type of "story", it DOES lend itself to a highly select audience. Of course, I was one of those who enjoyed listening to (and reading) Shakespearean plays and laughing at the most risque and uproarious spots!! Naturally, all my classmates thought I was nuts! But that's their loss and my enjoyment.
I wouldn't recommend a full saga but a bit of it (like this one here) is an extremely delightful change of pace from the norm and let's others know that creativity is something that lives outside the box.
SO, on with a few more stanza's and, for Valhalla's sake!, don't leave us dangling in the foam at the water's edge!! hehehehhe
_________________ You come to me for a mere assassination? Foolish creature, there is more to be gained from my skills then that!. Before I am finished, death will be welcomed as a release.
The mead hall resounded with shouts,
triumph rang as never before.
Songs of ages and glories past,
together with the day's events,
raised of spirit and great joy,
tankard and belly fit to burst!
Woe were the days of dependence.
Gone were the twilights of despair.
Voices raised in great fervor.
Anew we cried as one man!
No more would we submit to Him!
No more would we yield the blood tax!
Alone we had stood on the shores,
no protection from our Dark Lord.
Defeated were the Einherjar!
We fought with nought but blood and steel
Repulsed were the chosen few.
We proclaimed the Victory.
Quiet descended on Narvik
Silence crept, like fog, from the sea.
All was still on the dark waters.
Nought did move on land or in air;
nought but fear and uncertainty
Gods and Devils could read men's hearts.
Divided were the Host of man,
they faltered on what to do.
Dreams and visions of destruction
gnashing of teeth and biting cold.
Heralds of ill wind filled the gloom.
Swordblade and targ bent like plowshares.
Huddled as one were the men,
fires lit to ward off the night
Great stories of arms and glory
tales to impress and give courage
to boast of great deeds in battle.
Words washed down with beer and ale
Often in times of martial strife
the indominatable spirit
sallies forth to defend the hearth.
Against all odds the spirit stands,
knowing that great joy follows death.
Valhalla will welcome the brave.
Lo do the valorous arise
to face the gathering of the night.
Muscle and blood, iron and leather,
with courage will yet claim the day.
The darkness will come as before
and will try to swallow the sun.
We brave few, the Fyrd of Narvik
who stood against the Einherjar,
with the Sea rising around us,
who drew forth the might of iron,
at the Forge of Volund will beat
a blade tempered in undead blood.
The sun had finally set over the cold waters of the Norwegian Sea. With it came the knowledge that the Dark Overlord would rise. Perhaps not that very day, but some time soon. The warriors of Narvik met in the great mead hall and argued long into the night as to what to do. The Overlord had ruled for as long as anyone could remember. Long into the memory of their father's father's for that matter. There were quiet tales of those who stood against him and subdued him, but those were as reliable as any such tale of boasting. There were of course the very real tales of those who stood up to him and been ripped asunder like children's play things.
The warriors knew where his hall was. They had each been their often enough as part of their required servitude. They knew that he slumbered in their someplace, but they did not know where. They each, to a man, proclaimed that they wished to overthrow their Overlord, yet nobody stepped forward to be the leader. That was what they needed, a leader who would take the first step to making a stand.
Early in the evening, a group of warriors assembled at the Great Hall. These were the flower of Narvik's heros. They strapped on their armour, buckled their baldrics, and slung their shields from their backs. They began to walk down the path leading to the Overlord. All told there were 150 men carrying heavy iron headed axes, great swords, a smattering of bows, and awesome warhammers.
They shouted with loud voices as their torches lit the way through the primeval forests of Norway, up the fjord, through living rock and to the top of the great hill to the east of Narvik. Upon this hill stood the grim keep of the Overlord. A few dim lights shone from the windows in the hall. No movement was seen on the battlements. The great wooden door was shut. The men gathered at the side of the wall shouting and banging swords on shields. Several men went into the woods and the sound of axes could be heard followed several minutes later by the creak, crash, and thud of a large tree being felled.
Several men came back out carrying a battering ram. The lot of them proceeded to bash upon the great gate of the keep. Great meaty thuds echoed down the fjord as the ram smashed into the gate which held fast. They backed up and ran full force at the gate, only to come to a jolting stop. Shouting and frothing at the mouth, the men backed up again and then ran full force at the gate. This went on for nearly twenty minutes. The gate was hardly dented. Then it opened, seemingly of its own accord.
With a groan and a screech of metal grinding on metal the gate slowly opened. The men grew silent. From behind them in the woods came the howling of wolves. A mist began to seep up from the ground and rolled rather quicky out from the trees. The shouting stopped as the warriors became unnerved.
They looked about them, eyes wide with fear. From high above them came the sound of a tired but annoyed voice.
"Why have you disturbed me this night my minions?"
A high pitched screeching sound pierced the night air. Many of the warriors clutched their heads in pain and shouted in fear. Cries of "ODIN!!!!!" resonated throughout the gloom. The mists that had been creeping in from the forest engulfed the once brave warriors. The warriors were possessed of an all consuming fear. It was as if all hope had vanished from their thoughts. There was not a shred of defiance in them. Warriors looked left and right. They saw shapes flash between them, they heard blood spattering as flesh was torn, and limbs were ripped from bodies. Blood curtling screams came from dying men. The warriors scattered, each fleeing for his own life.
As the dawn broke over the citadel above Narvik, the flower of Norwegian bravery lay shattered on the ground. Few of them survived. Even fewer mustered the courage to return to the scene of the massacre to search for survivors. None who did not flee the slaughter survived.
Later that afternoon, the remaining warriors met in the great hall of Narvik to discuss what to do. Most felt that they should send an emissary up to the Overlord to beg his forgiveness. They argued the merits of this. At times the arguing was quite heated. Oaths were shouted, yet none could deny, that the bravest among them had scattered like young children from a snarling dog.
"A ship is come," came a cry from the door. The men went outside and saw a Knorr with a great black sail was riding in with the tide. As night fell, the ship docked and a tall blond man with great corded muscles climed the steps up form the dock to the great hall. He had a commanding presence about him and piercing blue eyes that seemed to gaze into one's very soul.
"Greetings, men of Narvik," said the warrior in a deep guttural voice. "I am Ignar of Bergen, I have come to free you."
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