Nancy - The Islands of the Blessed

“By Asgard, you’re a sight for these old eyes!” cried Rune when he saw the Bard. “I thought the fishes had eaten you after we set you adrift. No hard feelings, I hope.”

“None whatsoever,” the Bard replied. “It was Frith’s doing.” The Northmen gathered around, for all knew Dragon Tongue except Schlaup. He hung back shyly until the Bard beckoned him forward. “Schlaup Olaf’s Son! Tell me, has the Mountain Queen forgiven me for melting a hole through her wall?”

“Not yet,” said the giant, shuffling his feet.

Meanwhile, Jack was having a complicated time keeping the Tanners from fleeing. The only thing that helped was that they were unwilling to let go of their belongings. “It doesn’t matter who sails the ship,” Jack said desperately. “You don’t need to talk to them. We’ll be in Bebba’s Town in no time.”

“Those are Northmen,” hissed Mrs. Tanner. “You’ve sold us into slavery! Dear God, what’s that?” Schlaup had turned around at the sound of her voice. He grinned, showing jumbled teeth.

“It’s a troll!” shrieked Ythla.

“Half-troll, actually,” Jack said.

“He’s going to eat us! Help! Help! Let me go!” cried Mrs. Tanner, trying to wrench herself away.

Skakki was watching with amusement, but when the Tanners looked as though they might actually escape, he turned to Schlaup. “Bring them,” he ordered.

The giant lurched forward like an eager hound, swept up all the Tanners and their bags, and waded out to the ship. “Don’t drop us!” wailed Ymma. “We can’t swim!”

“Drop us!” begged Mrs. Tanner. “It’s better to drown than be eaten.”

But Schlaup did neither. He plopped them onto the deck and sat down next to them. He lifted the tip of Mrs. Tanner’s untidy braid between his fingers and sniffed it.

Soon the long, graceful ship was loaded and slid from the inlet onto a bright, sunlit ocean. The waves settled into a regular pattern, and the red-and-cream-striped sail bellied out above. Thorgil sat in the stern to manage the rudder.

Once they were away from land, Sven the Vengeful climbed onto the prow and reattached the wonderful dragon’s head, carved from real life by Olaf. Again the craft became a noble karfi, the streamlined battleship that Jack remembered. The Northmen began to sing:

In the distance a small speck marked out the position of Egil Long-Spear’s craft. The fat knorr was ideal for carrying trade goods, but it was also easy to overtake and plunder. Thus Egil depended on Skakki’s protection, while at the same time he provided cover for the berserkers.

One thing Jack had forgotten was the smell of the ship. The Northmen’s boots stank like carrion and their clothes reeked of sweat. Bilge sloshed beneath their feet and the very timbers of the craft were soaked with ancient fish blood and worse. The breeze carried away some, but not all of it. The Tanners were draped over the side, throwing up, and Jack, to his shame, soon joined them.

They passed small islands inhabited only by gulls, eiders, and puffins. To the left the mainland was a green smear, and to the right endless waves came out of the east and rocked the ship. It was a calm sea, although the Tanners complained loudly and feared they would be sent to the bottom at any moment.

“Wait till they see a real storm,” said Thorgil, who was watching the distant shoreline with Jack.

“Let’s hope we get to Bebba’s Town before anything happens,” Jack said. They were moving slowly to keep pace with Egil. The Bard and Rune had settled in the stern, and from time to time one of them would take up his harp and sing.

Then crew members would gather around and the rear of the ship would sink perilously low while the prow lifted.

That evening they camped on a bluff overhanging the sea. The two ships bobbed side by side, for there was no good place to draw up on land. Egil’s sheep bleated plaintively as they eyed the shore, and tenderhearted Schlaup waded out to them with armloads of grass. Egil’s men built a bonfire. The Bard told the story of how he spent a week on an ice floe with a bear. Rune recounted the saga of Olaf One-Brow rescuing Ivar the Boneless from trolls, but not before Ivar had married Frith Half-Troll.

“What a huge mistake that was,” said Sven the Vengeful.

“You can’t really blame Ivar,” Eric Long-Spear argued. “She was very beautiful when she was in a good mood.”

“You know what happens when half-trolls lose their tempers—” Sven began.

“Careful!” Eric glanced toward Schlaup, but Schlaup wasn’t paying attention. He was sniffing Mrs. Tanner’s braid, and she was smiling girlishly.

Jack was astounded. The giant couldn’t possibly—it wasn’t thinkable that—“Does he like her?” Jack whispered to Thorgil.

Thorgil laughed. “Why not? Mrs. Tanner is sturdy. That’s important to a troll. She’s already proven she can have children. And she orders him around.”

Which was true, thought Jack. Once Ymma and Ythla’s mother had realized that Schlaup could be bullied, she gave him a constant stream of orders. The giant was sent hunting for snacks, furs to rest on, bags of cider. He stood obediently in the sun to provide her with shade. It was what louts were used to from their females.

“What can she possibly see in him?” said Jack.

“I’m surprised you can even ask that question about my brother,” replied Thorgil indignantly. “He’s big, he’s strong, and he’s clearly a good provider. She needs someone to take care of her and the children.”

It made sense, Jack conceded, but he still wasn’t convinced. It suited Mrs. Tanner to have a willing slave for as long as the voyage lasted. He doubted whether she wanted a half-troll trailing after her when they reached land. Thorgil might not be able to see Schlaup’s defects, but any normal person would. “By the way, where are Ymma and Ythla?” he asked.

Thorgil looked around. “On the ship, I suppose. They can’t swim and they refused to let Schlaup carry them ashore.” Then the Bard called for Thorgil to recite poetry, and she rose gladly to perform.

Seafarer, who had been sitting at her feet, rose too and gave a loud scream that everyone had learned was a victory cry. His irritability and willingness to fight had charmed the Northmen from the very beginning. Seafarer, for his part, considered the crew to be part of his flock. I am great; I am powerful; I am terrifying, he screamed.

Be still. Pecks-from-Afar speaks, said Jack. For a while he had wondered how to say Thorgil’s name in Bird, but the albatross had renamed her after watching the shield maiden throw a spear. Seafarer settled down with a grunt of satisfaction.

Thorgil gave one of her usual bloodthirsty sagas in which everyone died messily. Jack listened with only half an ear. He wondered what Ymma and Ythla were up to on the ship.

But the next days passed peacefully—or as peacefully as time ever passed on a Northman ship. Rune told Eric Pretty-Face to shut up because he was making him go deaf, and Eric punched Sven the Vengeful to sooth his feelings. Sven the Vengeful threatened to rip his head off, and Skakki said, “Calm them,” to Schlaup, after which Eric and Sven woke up at opposite ends of the ship without quite remembering how they got there.