Post by Sir Nichtmar on Sept 7, 2011 9:09:22 GMT -5
I was considering a character change, but i decided to stick with the ogre. But if for some reason down the road the ogre dies. This man is out there somewhere. This is a fictional scene in an actual historical event. Look up Haakon Haakonson some time.
Carry a King
My name is Nikmar Rolandsson and my story begins with a child, no not me, but probably the most important child in Norway, Haakon Haakonson, heir to the throne of Norway, but he was in Bagler territory. For the past 70 years me, my father, and his have known nothing but war. The civil war between Bagler and Birkebeiner began with the death of King Sigurd. Kings chose this side or that. My clan served Birkebeiner, and we were losing. This 2 year old child I hold is said to unite Norway. I wait as the others decide what to do. A crying mother, Inga I believe, claims this child is son of Haakon Sverresson, the now dead king of the Beirkebeiner. I can see the worry on the face of my captain, Torstein Skevla. We are to head for Nidaros and get the kid to King Inge II. There the child will be safe, but there’s no road we can follow, forest and mountain is our path. No place to be carrying a child.
The forest was the easy part it was the mountain that we all dreaded. Hard enough for a man to travel, but a child… We had to stop often to keep a supply of food for Haakon. This meant one or two of us would have to go into a village and hopefully not be recognized. The Bagler were hunting the boy. We ran into them once and lost them in the forest, but it cost the lives of two of our men.
One night around the fire…
“What kind of a name is Nikmar?!” The others roared in laughter around the fire.
I smiled, “I know… I know… Shutup and I’ll tell!”
“My father Roland told me this story. Thousand years ago, long when Vikings traveled the sea and took what they wanted…”
“Ha, what’s different now,” Skyervald shouted! The men laughed.
“…a fleet landed in Albania, which we all know the ones who stayed became Normans. One Viking took a wife from the village Nikmaras and had a boy. To respect the father they named him Nikmar. They came back to Bergen and the name has been passed down. So… here I am Nikmar Rolandson.”
“That story stinks! Where’s the blood and battle and…”
“…and the women!”
The roar of laughter was silenced in an instant when Torstein walked up to us.
“Shut up! You want everyone to know we’re here!?”
He stood taller than the rest of us, the child tucked behind his shield, wrapped in wool. His axe rarely left his hand. He always seemed to carry the burden of the mission for all of us.
Snow, hunger, and the mountain pained us all, but we were close now. We waited for the others to come back from the village. Then, “Bagler!” Grim yelled as he ran towards us. Halfdan wasn’t with him. Then we saw behind him, nearly twenty men. Arrows flew passed him.
“Run,” Tor commanded. We did not delay. Snow scattered as we ran. Arrows flew. I turned, took a breath and shot my bow. Hit my target in the gut. I ran again, knocking another arrow. The wind was starting to pick up making them hard to see, but that also made us hard to see.
“House ahead,” Tor roared. It was set on near a ledge.
I turned again searching for a target. “Damn this snow.” I heard a spear hit flesh. “Peter!” “Go!” he raged. Peter yanked out the spear and charged. I tried to follow with my bow. He took the arm of one of them, another gutted him. I took advantage and put an arrow in his throat. I ran again. Tor and Skyervald were at the house. A blizzard was throwing snow everywhere. We burst into the house. Arrows crashed through the window.
“Skis,” Skyervald said.
“How many,” Tor asked?
“Two sets.”
“Go! Save the boy!” I heard myself say. “The rest of us will delay them. Save the king!”
Torstein grinned at me, grabbed the skis and headed out back. The rest of us charged out the front. Snow swirled around us. I gripped my sword searching for prey. One came at me with a spear, I side stepped shouldering the man back and opened his chest. He fell and disappeared into the storm. I heard the rage of my brothers, the ringing of steel, and the tearing of flesh. Another with a shield came for me. My sword stuck in his shield. He edged me in the face, putting me on my ass. He reared his axe. I rolled away from swing, searching for my sword. He came again, but I found my blade to parry the blow. I head butted him and hacked off a leg. His scream was silenced when I pierced his chest. I searched for my next fight, but the storm had grown so loud, the other men sounded so far away now. Strange I felt warmth of the sun. The snow slowed and dropped and I was in the middle of a forest, summer by the smell of it. Then the exhaustion and hunger caught up. The strangeness set aside searching for food or help. My stomach wrenched, my eyes so heavy, and then I heard the sound of boards creaking beneath me. They snapped and I fell into darkness.
Carry a King
My name is Nikmar Rolandsson and my story begins with a child, no not me, but probably the most important child in Norway, Haakon Haakonson, heir to the throne of Norway, but he was in Bagler territory. For the past 70 years me, my father, and his have known nothing but war. The civil war between Bagler and Birkebeiner began with the death of King Sigurd. Kings chose this side or that. My clan served Birkebeiner, and we were losing. This 2 year old child I hold is said to unite Norway. I wait as the others decide what to do. A crying mother, Inga I believe, claims this child is son of Haakon Sverresson, the now dead king of the Beirkebeiner. I can see the worry on the face of my captain, Torstein Skevla. We are to head for Nidaros and get the kid to King Inge II. There the child will be safe, but there’s no road we can follow, forest and mountain is our path. No place to be carrying a child.
The forest was the easy part it was the mountain that we all dreaded. Hard enough for a man to travel, but a child… We had to stop often to keep a supply of food for Haakon. This meant one or two of us would have to go into a village and hopefully not be recognized. The Bagler were hunting the boy. We ran into them once and lost them in the forest, but it cost the lives of two of our men.
One night around the fire…
“What kind of a name is Nikmar?!” The others roared in laughter around the fire.
I smiled, “I know… I know… Shutup and I’ll tell!”
“My father Roland told me this story. Thousand years ago, long when Vikings traveled the sea and took what they wanted…”
“Ha, what’s different now,” Skyervald shouted! The men laughed.
“…a fleet landed in Albania, which we all know the ones who stayed became Normans. One Viking took a wife from the village Nikmaras and had a boy. To respect the father they named him Nikmar. They came back to Bergen and the name has been passed down. So… here I am Nikmar Rolandson.”
“That story stinks! Where’s the blood and battle and…”
“…and the women!”
The roar of laughter was silenced in an instant when Torstein walked up to us.
“Shut up! You want everyone to know we’re here!?”
He stood taller than the rest of us, the child tucked behind his shield, wrapped in wool. His axe rarely left his hand. He always seemed to carry the burden of the mission for all of us.
Snow, hunger, and the mountain pained us all, but we were close now. We waited for the others to come back from the village. Then, “Bagler!” Grim yelled as he ran towards us. Halfdan wasn’t with him. Then we saw behind him, nearly twenty men. Arrows flew passed him.
“Run,” Tor commanded. We did not delay. Snow scattered as we ran. Arrows flew. I turned, took a breath and shot my bow. Hit my target in the gut. I ran again, knocking another arrow. The wind was starting to pick up making them hard to see, but that also made us hard to see.
“House ahead,” Tor roared. It was set on near a ledge.
I turned again searching for a target. “Damn this snow.” I heard a spear hit flesh. “Peter!” “Go!” he raged. Peter yanked out the spear and charged. I tried to follow with my bow. He took the arm of one of them, another gutted him. I took advantage and put an arrow in his throat. I ran again. Tor and Skyervald were at the house. A blizzard was throwing snow everywhere. We burst into the house. Arrows crashed through the window.
“Skis,” Skyervald said.
“How many,” Tor asked?
“Two sets.”
“Go! Save the boy!” I heard myself say. “The rest of us will delay them. Save the king!”
Torstein grinned at me, grabbed the skis and headed out back. The rest of us charged out the front. Snow swirled around us. I gripped my sword searching for prey. One came at me with a spear, I side stepped shouldering the man back and opened his chest. He fell and disappeared into the storm. I heard the rage of my brothers, the ringing of steel, and the tearing of flesh. Another with a shield came for me. My sword stuck in his shield. He edged me in the face, putting me on my ass. He reared his axe. I rolled away from swing, searching for my sword. He came again, but I found my blade to parry the blow. I head butted him and hacked off a leg. His scream was silenced when I pierced his chest. I searched for my next fight, but the storm had grown so loud, the other men sounded so far away now. Strange I felt warmth of the sun. The snow slowed and dropped and I was in the middle of a forest, summer by the smell of it. Then the exhaustion and hunger caught up. The strangeness set aside searching for food or help. My stomach wrenched, my eyes so heavy, and then I heard the sound of boards creaking beneath me. They snapped and I fell into darkness.