Lyanna and the Palace of the Moon Elves

Lyanna and the Palace of the Moon Elves

A fairy tale to be read out loud

by Adam Manning

Many hundreds of years ago in a far away land there lived a girl called Lyanna. She worked for the Sultan who ruled that land. He was very rich but had a temper as bad as a troll with a splinter stuck in its eye. Lyanna was a good girl and a friend to all. One day a man that had the body of a giant scorpion came to the tower's door, asking if they had any soup to spare. The guard at the gate was ready to slice off the poor beast's tail with his scimitar but instead Lyanna befriended him and gave him not only soup but bread as well. This was the first time that Lyanna liked someone everyone else thought of as an enemy.

        As Lyanna grew into a young woman, she showed this affection for others who were looked on as strange by less kindly folk. Although she stayed in the confines of the tower, her spirit often felt as though it soared into the air like a hawk or spread out across the land like blossom from an apple tree. She was kept there by the lazy Sultan because he had seen Lyanna's growing beauty and wanted to marry her soon. Though Lyanna was like a prisoner, she still felt free.

        This feeling shone from Lyanna as if she were one of those glowing crystals that you can find in caves. So great was it that others could feel it too: not the people living in her own land (who were a mean lot in those days) but some magical people living far away. These were the moon elves. They lived far above the air in a place no-one knew about, because it was hidden by a fold in the sky. They lived on the Moon, which we can see now at night or sometimes in the day but couldn't be seen at all then. They also had seen her being friendly to everyone, including the goat men who had travelled a long way to meet her, and they wondered if she might be their friend too. As no-one from the world had ever been to the Moon, they had to help her.

        So they sent a flying carriage to collect her. It landed at night-time beside the tower when only Lyanna was still awake, working hard as usual, scrubbing the ramp that lead to the gate. When she saw the carriage she was scared. It was pulled by a team of five giant snails, each with two heads. The carriage itself was like a huge silver egg, encrusted with rubies. Then the driver came over to Lyanna. He had a pumpkin where normal people have a head and black, shiny fur where normal people have skin. Lyanna stood trembling as the pumpkin-man reached behind himself to get something.

        Right beside Lyanna was the alarm bell she could have rung to fetch the guard. They would have captured the driver for sure and put him in jail but instead Lyanna decided to trust him. Eventually he produced a silver box and opened it. Inside was a red, mushy lump. The driver told Liana to eat some and she did. It was sweet and very good.

        Then the driver beckoned Lyanna to get into the carriage, whose door he had just opened. This was the first time anyone had been kind to Lyanna and she agreed. With that the driver commanded the snails to fly off and they did so, spreading wings that looked like those of a dragon. They soared into the air and soon left the tower far below.

        As they flew up they first passed some thin children with spears in their hands and fairy wings on their back. These children warned them not to go any further. At this, Lyanna was frightened again. The driver ignored them and they flew up even higher. Soon the Winds blew up and flew alongside the carriage. One of them laughed threateningly at Lyanna and the others rocked the carriage from side to side until the driver fell off and plummeted to the earth. No-one saw him again. Now Lyanna was both scared and angry, for she had quite liked the pumpkin-man.

        Eventually the Winds got bored with playing with the carriage and just let it fly on aimlessly, pulled by the giant snails. They kept near it though and now Lyanna could see how they played amongst themselves. They were very rough, hitting each other and wrestling all the time. Often they hurt one another and although some of the time they had quite a lot of fun, they also just made themselves angry a lot of the other time. Lyanna did not like this and decided to teach them a new game. This was the game of "It" where someone is it and has to catch all the others. The Winds thought this was the best game they had ever played and enjoyed it a lot. Now they didn't have to hurt each other to have fun. One of them, the North Wind, even let Lyanna climb on his back for a while and when they were together they were always the winners; the fastest and most cunning. The North Wind now laughed for fun and not so as to scare people.

        When they had finished playing, the Winds started to feel sorry for having tipped the driver off of the carriage. They wanted to help her and asked Lyanna where she was going. She said she did not know. The East Wind (the wisest) knew that only the moon elves used dragon-snails to pull carriages and said Lyanna must be going to the  Moon. Then the South Wind (the bravest) said they should take her there. The North Wind agreed and they all pushed the carriage upwards. After a while they reached the fold in the sky. The West Wind (the strongest) realized the fold was actually part of a huge, ancient net. He blew right up to it and, using all of his muscles, tore a hole straight through it.

Through this they could see the Moon and the Winds landed the carriage on it. The Winds told Lyanna that they weren't really allowed to be there and had to go. She thanked them for their help and promised to always teach them new games and tricks, a promise she keeps to this day. After they had gone, Lyanna was alone until a monster with a man's body and an octopus for a head approached her. He bent down and Lyanna patted him on the head. Then he gave her a piggy-back across the valleys and mountains of the Moon. He carried her like this all the way to the palace of the moon elves.

        This was no ordinary palace. It's walls were black and shiny, reflecting the light of the stars. It's roof was made of silver and would have covered all of her city with room to spare. As she watched, she saw that the palace moved slowly across the plain of red dust. It was as if it slithered along as a slug does. The octopus-headed man deposited her at the gate and she had to run to keep up with the door as the palace moved on. She managed to fling it open and jumped inside.

        All was darkness and gloom until she came to the innermost chamber, where the Council of Moon Elves were. They were each short and thin, with crimson skin. Their eyes were large, round and stared lifelessly at her as she walked in. She did not like this place: the air seemed to hum with weird magical energy. Though they did not stop her from wandering where she would within the palace, the moon elves placed invisible barriers on the doors, preventing her from leaving. Eventually she returned to the chamber where the elder moon elves had remained, waiting expectantly.

She felt the emptiness within them and in the palace. It seemed as if nothing had changed there since the start of time. And although the moon elves had given her nothing but indifference, had offered her no meal but silence and had made her nothing but lonely, she sought to return to them all that she could. With that she reached inside herself and released all the beauty within her in a long, melodious song. It was as if she turned herself inside out, revealing her true nature. Shortly, several of the moon elves started blinking. Then one hummed uncertainly, then another whistled and finally two burst into song as well; a chirping accompaniment to Lyanna. Soon all within the chamber were doing something, whether it was merely twitching their pointed ears in time to the music, stamping their feet or laughing and cheering. Some even conjured bizarre instruments to play with out of the air, such as long, twisted horns and fiddles with only one string yet three bows. Where gloom had reigned before, now glee filled every nook, crevice and crack in the chamber as it was flooded with Lyanna's song.

She did not stop there. As the moon elves played and sang, she began to dance. Sometimes her dancing was slow and gentle, like a mother rocking her child to sleep. Other times it was fast and wild as if she was possessed by a banshee. Always it suggested the circle of life and death with twists and falls. Another miracle happened then: the chamber lit up with a brilliant light and along all the walls and ceilings of the palace, works of art grew from the red rock. On some walls, a painting of a beautiful creature appeared. In the middle of the chamber, an enormous statue of an antelope standing triumphantly on a mountain-top grew out of the ground. The whole palace changed in this way as if it were a living thing as Lyanna danced around it, followed by the beaming moon elves.

After all this was done, the moon elves gave her a meal of the same red mushy stuff the pumpkin-man had given her before. They realized she wanted to go back to her world, but they now loved her too much to be able to let her go. Once again Lyanna was almost like a prisoner but again she always felt her spirit reach beyond the confines of her pleasant prison.

For many years Lyanna was kept like this and she became a full-grown woman. Over that time she had begun to love her new home, with its groves of crystal- flowers and zoos of quartz animals. Her years there had also changed her; her hair had changed from being blonde to a sparkling ruby red. Her eyes now shone redly too. In a way she now felt as if she were of two worlds, but her longing to see the earth never quite left her. She was sad some of the time.

Those on the earth wanted to see her too. The strangers she had befriended all missed her and wanted her back so she could cast her friendship magic on them again. They had told their friends about her and they had told their friends, and so on until her legend had spread throughout the whole of the land. As she was no longer there to teach them about peace and love, many wars had started and much hate and anger was abroad in the land. Even the Sultan missed her, not only because he wanted to marry her but also because he had been used to her happy smiles and hard work around his tower. With all this sadness, finally even the earth herself wanted Lyanna back. So the earth looked up and found the direction Lyanna had sent her spirit when it had soared up through the air and beyond the sky. The earth collected up all the spirits of those who wanted to see Lyanna again into a long rope and threw it up until it tied onto the net that was the fold in the sky behind which the Moon hid.

Then something amazing happened. The earth, using the rope as a guide, threw part of herself up into the air, making a bridge. Upwards the earth thrust her bridge until it got to the net that is the fold in the sky. Where the rope had tied itself onto the net, the bridge smashed straight through, tearing the net to pieces. With the fold in the sky gone, the Moon was now visible to everyone on the world below for the first time. Then the earth-bridge crashed into the palace of the moon elves, right near Lyanna's bedroom. She came out to see what had happened and was astonished to see the huge bridge spanning the great gap between the Moon and the earth below. It was lined on either side by all her friends: goat men, pumpkin-men, octopus-heads, humans, green elves, dwarves and many others. The moon elves said they were sorry they had not been strong enough to overcome their love for her to let her go as she had wanted. Lyanna forgave them and then set off down the bridge to the earth.

On the way down, some Winds from a tribe different from the one Lyanna had met sought to destroy the bridge. But the North Wind and his tribe blew in to protect her and fought these other Winds. Their fierce battle merely added to the spectacle of her descent.

Once on the earth again, it seemed as if she were young once more: for every seven years that had passed on the Moon, only one had passed on the earth. The powers she had gained on the Moon were still strong though and her friendship magic spread throughout all the countries of the world. Where the earth-bridge had been torn from the ground, there was now a huge crater. On it's rim Lyanna created a great city with walls as tall as mountains and inside  you can find anything you desire. That city is the city we live in today. Lyanna became a wise Queen and all who loved her knew true happiness.

The Moral of the Story: Always return Hate with Love, for one day an enemy may become a friend.

The Golden Peacock of Cheldari

 The Golden Peacock of Cheldari

A fairy tale to be read out loud

by Adam Manning 

 

Lyanna and her cat Ribbles had, at long last, escaped from the townhouse that belonged to her uncle, the notoriously mean cobbler, Master Firebeard.  Her bad uncle was always thinking of things for Lyanna to do round the house, such as sweep up the cobwebs in his workshop, or sort out big sacks of shoes into matching pairs. She was never allowed to play with the other children, but today her uncle had decided he had been too hard on her in the past and let her go out into the town on the condition that she promised to be back by sunset.

The cobbled streets of the town were wide and long and soon the pair got totally lost, though Ribbles was not worried.  “Never mind”, he said. “If we keep going, we are always where we are, wherever we go”, he said, for he was a wise as well as brave ginger cat and had read many ancient scrolls on philosophy.  They had lots of fun looking round about and soon came to the part of the town where the temples to the ten thousand gods were. They passed many strange priests, wizards and nuns.  Some were clad in purple sheets from head to toe, looking as if they were in bed asleep even while they walked up and down. Others wore tall caps that made their heads look as if they scratched the sky and tickled the clouds.

On the next street corner, they found a statute of a gold peacock which caught the eye. It was about half as tall as a man. Ribbles, in particular, liked it for it was almost (though not quite) the same colour as his fur and he went up and rubbed it with his face. At once a fat genie popped into existence and floated over to them with a beaming grin on his face. “Hello!” he enthused. “My name is Cheldari. I am the genie of the golden peacock”. His fat fingers fidgeted as he spoke. “I am able to grant three wishes to whoever should call on me.”

Lyanna thought at first that Ribbles should have the wishes. It was he after all who had made the genie appear. But it soon became clear that there was nothing that Ribbles wished for and so Lyanna quickly decided to make a wish instead.  “I wish for, umm, a beautiful red silk jacket.”

“Ah ha”, the genie chuckled, “that is easy.” And with that a gorgeous scarlet jacket appeared around Lyanna, replacing the previous dull brown coat she had worn.  “And the next wish?”, the genie asked, bobbing up and down in the air.  Lyanna looked at her beloved ginger cat.

            “I wish for a black velvet collar studded with diamonds for Ribbles.” With a wave of his chubby hand, the genie made a collar studded with diamonds for her cat.  Although Ribbles had said he didn’t want anything, he couldn’t quite contain his pleasure in receiving this present and looked as though he was the smartest cat in town.

            “And now your last wish?” the genie asked.  This time Lyanna thought long and hard. She wanted it to be a really good wish as it was going to be her last. Finally she looked at the golden peacock.

            “I wish that the golden peacock could carry me and Ribbles on its back and fly off into the sky.” The genie looked a little dismayed and Lyanna wondered if she had wished for something that was a little too hard.  But the genie waved his arms, said some magical words and the peacock began to grow in size.  It soon became as tall as a house and stooped down for Lyanna and Ribbles to climb on its back. Then it shook its wings and swooped up into the air just as some soldiers with swords drawn ran up to see what was going on.  The peacock took off and was soon soaring along at about the height of two trees above the town.

Lyanna was enthralled and sat at the base of the peacock’s neck, lounging on its golden feathers. Even Ribbles was mildly impressed and he walked casually down to the head and sat on top, looking out. It seemed as though he was guiding its flight. Soon they had left the town far behind and flew over mile upon mile of countryside.  They soared over the seashore where a fishing village stood and saw a gigantic lobster bigger than the village trying to eat the villagers! Two men, one with a giant axe and the other with a sword, were trying to see it off. They swept on and came to a jungle. Three large tigers stood in a clearing and as they flew over, Ribbles spat angrily at them safe in the knowledge that they couldn’t get him.

On and on they flew for many hours. Soon the world became a cold, snowy place and Lyanna wondered when it was going to land. She was hungry and wanted to go home. She even missed her uncle.  She beseeched the golden peacock to go down and stop, implored it go back and shouted at it too listen to her.  But it carried on regardless. Ribbles rubbed the golden peacock again as he had before in the street and again the genie appeared.  “What is it now?” the genie asked, somewhat less amiable than it had been.

            “Make it stop”, Lyanna pleaded.

            “That wasn’t part of your wish”, answered the genie smartly.  “You asked me to make it fly and make it carry you. There was nothing said about making it stop”.

            “You must be able to do something”, Lyanna begged, tears in her eyes.

            “No, I’m sorry. I’m bound by the promise that I made to you to grant your wishes. Goodbye.” And with that he disappeared with a popping sound. The golden peacock flew on and it had already become night.  Lyanna was very cold and wrapped the red jacket around her more tightly to keep warm.

            In the town, Bad Uncle Master Firebeard wondered where his niece had got to. Despite all his meanness, he loved Lyanna and was very worried about her. Lyanna wasn’t to know, but her uncle was secretly a feared sorcerer, one of the most powerful magicians in the country who only pretended to be a cobbler.  He looked into his magical shoe-chest that always answered his questions. “Where is my niece?” he asked and the chest showed him. He was amazed by what he saw. But he still knew what to do. He cast a spell and magically tied a thousand shoe-laces together to make a long lasso. Climbing out onto his roof in the middle of the night when everyone else was tucked up in bed, he twirled the lasso round his head.  Longer and longer the shoe-laces became until up in the sky it whirled round half of all the world. It finally caught the golden peacock around its neck.

Bad Uncle Master Firebeard pulled and pulled and with a mighty tug, which loosened one or two of the tiles on his roof, he pulled the golden peacock in. Finally it landed on top of his roof, loosening more roof tiles. Lyanna and Ribbles hopped off the golden peacock. Lyanna was overjoyed to be home and hugged her uncle. Her uncle was happy to see her as well and even gave her a little smile and a pat on the head. Ribbles ran into the house to see if anybody had left him anything to eat in his bowl.

            “That genie was the genie of big promises”, her uncle explained, “and I think there is a lesson for you in that.” They went in and everyone was much the wiser for what had happened, apart of course from Ribbles. The golden peacock took off and can be seen to this day flying about. He became their friend and still lays them a golden egg the size of a pig every night there is a full moon.

Milleniums of Jorth - Chapter Three ...

A story set a thousand years ago, in which Viking explorers discover North America (or Vinland) and in doing so, find Bifrost, the legendary bridge to Asgard!  Read Chapter 2 first! 

Milleniums of Jorth

by Adam Manning

 Chapter 2

Bridge of Death

The three Kristians, Kalf, Ivar and Gunnar, turned away from their Captain, their features screwed up with dismay. “You cannot worship the old gods, Captain. They are sent by the Devil himself”, Kalf begged his old friend.

            “No. For the first time I see with eyes that shine like the full moon on a cloudless night”, Leif retorted, growing angry at their continual questioning. Kalf turned, hands on his enormous hips, to look back down the hillock to the forest floor below.

            “Brothers, come, let’s go back to the boat. Let’s not hear anymore of this madness”, he muttered to the two nearest him.

            “If any leave they will not be part of whatever adventures we have”, Leif sneered at him.  “Go now, and you will not be any part of our tales”.  He poked the ground emphatically with the point of his sword as he spoke.

            With only the odd backward glance, the three Kristians left their fellows and were soon outside the illumination provided by the Rainbow Bridge.  Apart from Leif and Bragi, the others looked on, unsure whether to follow or stay.  Leif caught their mood and sought to purge them of their doubts.

            “You others, know my thoughts. It is Odin who tests us. It is as the old legends. Heimdall there guards Bifrosts, loyally blocking those who are unworthy from setting foot on the bridge to Asgard. But I know that Odin is with us for I have seen him.”  At this Leif looked to the trees. He caught a glimpse of the large black bird he had seen before, but as he turned to look closer it suddenly took flight.

            “If we are to reach Asgard we must placate Heimdall in some way, or steer round him as if he were a cliff that split the sea between our ship and the home port.” Above, the clouds had thickened to become a blanket of grey. The day had grown darker as evening approached.

            “I have heard that giving the life of some beast is one way to please the gods”, Bragi noted brightly. “Perhaps the goat on the ship will do”.  Some of the crew grumbled about this as they had precious few provisions left after their sea trek.

            “A good start”, Leif grinned.  While the others waited, some of their numbers went back to the vessel and snatched the goat from the hands of the Kristians resting there. It began to rain and those that remained on the hillock watched as the dark-skinned old man raised his hands towards heaven, seeming to beckon the drops to the waiting earth below.  Where the rain seemed to fall through the Rainbow Bridge, a sparkling silver radiance reflected on their surroundings. The native priest’s face shown with this glow, giving him a shining, almost divine glow.

            The goat, which had been with them since they left Greenland, was slaughtered noisily.  The weather cleared and by midnight, those parts of the goat that were to be eaten had been cooked over a small open fire and then eaten by the men, glad to have some nourishment.  The stranger had been given some too by leaving it near him. This he had eagerly taken once the Norsemen had retreated.  After greedily gobbling it down, he beamed back at the newcomers with a grateful grin.

            “Heimdall is pleased with our gift”, Leif said, “but let us see what wisdom Odin has to offer.”

            “Captain, it is late. Even the gods are known to sleep”, protested one of the sailors.

            “Svein, we’re on the verge of glory and you talk of sleep?” scathed Bragi.

            “Let the weak take to their beds”, Leif said, “whilst those who feel touched by greatness search on.”

            With little further comment, two of the half a dozen warriors on the hillock wrapped themselves in their cloaks and were soon snoring where they lay. The others held council on what to do next. Gunnar reached for a pouch he kept tied to his belt.

            “Here Captain, this maybe what you need.” He held out the pouch and undid the leather strap. When opened it gave off a musty smell. Gunnar came from a clan that had, in pagan times, boasted of many berserkers and warriors. “It is a potion for making woad.”

            “That might be the very key to unlock the gates of heaven”, Leif said with a smile, snatching the pouch and its contents away.

            For the rest of the night, the men brewed the woad.  Just before dawn, Bragi, weary for lack of rest, lay on the hillock to sleep a while. As the sun began its morning climb, the strange chemical was ready and the three warriors still awake daubed themselves in it. Leif was first and covered himself in it. Bjorn and Thorfinn had only enough for their faces, arms and legs. When this was completed, Gunnar held the residue of the goats innards above his head in a clay bowl. The others slowly recanted old chants they had heard their grandfathers use. The spirits of the old gods moved amongst them and, slowly at first, their faces took on new, weird looks. Long dead invocations were heard again and Leif paced around Gunnar expectantly, appearing to wish that Odin himself would step forth and make his biding known to them.

            The mystic ringing tone heard earlier had long since abated and the chanting woke Bragi. He stretched, rubbed his eyes and regarded his brother with incredulous eyes.  Fear shot through him.  Up to that point, he had thought of these events as another manly adventure for him and his brother to share. He could grow in stature in the eyes of his much older brother, who was the leader of their family. But this new guise was disturbing in its strangeness and intensity.  He said nothing though despite his scepticism.

            Bragi thought their ritual was to call on the gods to reveal the future.  The goat’s guts were thrown down so that signs and omens could foretell their fate.  Fresh doubts gnawed at Bragi over these proceedings.  These practices were just old-fashioned superstition.  A younger man, Bragi had not had the same taste of the pagan faith the others had in years gone by.  The invocations became louder until they neared the moment when Gunnar would cast the entrails on the ground.

            Leif suddenly stopped the curious stepping and hopping dance that had seemed to control him as if possessed. Taken aback, Bjorn stopped too and Gunnar looked down from gazing up at the bowl. Leif jumped towards Gunnar and snatched the bowl from him. “I alone must seek this from Odin”, he screamed hoarsely at the others on the hillock and jumped down to the forest floor, disappearing from sight in the still dark dawn.  The others gazed in disbelief after their Captain, unsure of his motives and unable to guess what might happen next.

Milleniums of Jorth - Chapter Two ...

A story set a thousand years ago, in which Viking explorers discover North America (or Vinland) and in doing so, find Bifrost, the legendary bridge to Asgard!  Read Chapter 1 first!

Milleniums of Jorth

by Adam Manning

 Chapter 2

The Rainbow's Watcher

The life had left Bragi’s legs. His chest tightened painfully with every gasp of breath and finally he stopped, unable to run any further. His pursuer was only a few dozen yards behind and seemingly as fresh as when they had both begun their flight through the thick vegetation of this island, so far from their home in Greenland.  The young man turned, terrified yet resigned, to face his brother.

            Leif was a naked creature of the forest. His skin, daubed in the blue dye that was normally applied by berserkers before combat, had been dirtied by his journey through the trees, giving him the appearance of some wild devil.  Fearing for his life, Bragi saw a strange, animal quality had even influenced the way his brother moved. Leif squatted on a fallen tree trunk on all fours like a hunting lynx, then leap to the ground and run up to Bragi. They stood facing one another and Bragi could hear Leif softly growing to himself. How quick had been the transformation, Bragi thought, like a spell or bewitchment cast upon the man. Only a few days before Leif, had like the others aboard the Surfrider, talked of his joy in finding the new faith. Yet now here he was, slavering and drooling as if his soul had been possessed by that of a rabid wolf.

            They stood silently for long second, Bragi at last speaking in a low sob.

“Don’t kill me brother, I am with you. Please, don’t kill me”. Leif opened his crossed arms.

            “It is not I who does this, Bragi Ericcson. It is the bidding of Odin so that I may cross the Rainbow Bridge that leads to the realm of the immortals. And none may defy the All-father.” He stepped forward, arms out-stretched.

            “No, please”, Bragi implored. It was already too late. He felt the pressure of the fingertips around his throat. A terrible scream tore the air, sending flights of colourful birds soaring up beyond the green canopy and soon life flowed through only one of the brothers.

 * * *

Bifrost, the Rainbow Bridge of the gods, had been easy to find in the darkness of the army of trees that populated the island.  At the bottom of the hillock where they had observed the white glow, Bragi and Leif had looked up, having to shade their eyes due to the dazzling brightness of the light’s source.

            “Can you seen around the base of the light, those tall stones in an arc?”, Leif asked his brother.

            “Yes. The light is so painful though”, answered Bragi. The other norsemen began to join them at the bottom fo the rise.

            “Only by going up are we ever going to know what sort of miracle we have found here”, Leif shouted.  A curious ringing noise, like two blades striking each other in battle, had slowly grown in strength until it was almost unbearable, like the light shining from the Rainbow Bridge.  Leif put one booted foot in front of the other but a large hand on his arm stayed his progress.

            Leif turned and saw that it was Kalf who was trying to slow him down. “Wait, Captain. We are mortal men and this, this is the working of the gods.  How can we know what is the right thing to do? The old tales say one false turn can lead to a man’s doom.”

            With restraint, Leif answered him. “Your words betray you, Kalf Kristainsson.  Your devotion to the Krist is well known among us. Calling on the Aesir, the gods, as you have has all the truth of a bow made from a bundle of reeds. Odin the All-father now calls me to seek Bifrost. I will heed his call.”

            Kalf retorted quickly. “Your piety brought none to question you either Captain Ericcson until this very day. But now you expect us to believe this miracle is a gift from those old gods that have long been thrown down by their followers? Even this morning you yourself sang the Lord’s praises!” He looked at the others to see if any supported his probing of their Captain’s true intentions.

            “Be quiet Kristiansson, lest I forget your obedient labour at the rudder and the kindness your father showed mine in years gone by. No more of this talk. I want to look fully upon Bifrost for myself. We shall make of what gods we meet when they show themselves. Onward Bragi!”

            They half strode, half clambered up the hillock’s side. With every step the light grew brighter. With every handhold on a rock to steady themselves, the ringing grew louder. With a dozen such steps, the flat top of the hillock was but a hand’s grasp away.

            Leif reached out impatient fingers to sink greedily into the hillock’s top and pulled his head up to view what lay beyond. His eyes had grown somewhat accustomed to the brilliance but he still had to squint to make anything out. The centre of his view was dominated by the source of the Rainbow Bridge. Where it struck the ground, it was the source of this blinding light. Unspeaking, the brothers pulled themselves up and over onto the hillock’s level top.  With a deep breath Leif stood, blinking in the harsh brightness, drinking in the knowledge that he had now reached his goal. In al it seemed a dozen or so rough man-sized stones guarded the source of the Rainbow and with eyes narrowed to mere slits he could discern a larger, horizontal stone lying at the juncture of light and earth.  The two fingers quietly stepped forward, though little thought guided their feet, and as they did so the other crewmen joined them.

            Leif, followed by Bragi, knelt in front of this vision. “Surely at long last All-father you show yourself to us in all your glory. No longer can we cast you aside. We throw ourselves on your mercy and ask you to show us how to serve you.” Of the others, almost all copied their actions bar Kalf and Ivar. Some began chanting pagan praises to the old gods that they had heard during their childhoods.

            Their ears had grown used to the ringing but still did not detect the footfalls as someone approached them across the rise.  Transfixed like the others, Bjorn stood at the back of the group in mute awe of their discovery. Fingers pressed down on his right shoulder and he cried out, his shock all the more due to the overwhelming hold the sight of the Rainbow Bridge had over him.  He took a step forward and then turned, at the same time unsheathing his sword from its scabbard.

            “Demon of Hell”, he shouted, with a tremour. Now he looked closer, he saw a man in some bizarre costume. The first thing he saw was a large headdress made from long white feathers, the ends of which were either red or black. His face was wrinkled and weather-beaten. An old man then, who had lived a life exposed to the elements. His skin was darker than a Norseman’s and his eyes too brown. His clothing looked to be of leather, as was much of theirs, but it was bleached in some way and Bifrost’s glow made in shine like a white metal.  In one hand he held a crude spear with feathers decorating the shaft. In the other he held a sizeable conch shell. A look of fear creased his already pleated features.

            With a strangulated cry, the old man spoke in some unknown and entirely alien tongue.  He repeated his words several times and paced around Bjorn till he was in between the men and the Bridge.  At the end of each repetition, he jutted the spear at them accusingly.

            He cried out more words, higher and more strident, raising his spear aloft triumphantly. 

            “Who are you, old one?” Leif asked.  Behind him, Svein too drew his sword and muttered something about dark elves that cursed any who crossed them.

            Leif asked him again. This time the old man put the pointed end of his shell to his ear and turned the open end to the Norsemen. Once more Leif questioned him but thought it seemed the stranger heard him this time, he gave no reply they could understand.  Instead, he turned and approached the Bridge, holding his arms aloft as if in worship to his god.

            Leif turned to address his men.  As the old man approached the Rainbow, the ringing noise grew less intense. The men crowded around their commander.

            “It’s clear to me this old one is the guardian of the Rainbow Bridge. He protects its end here in Midgard. If we’re going to get over it, we have to deal with him.” 

            “So Leif”, Ivar answered, “you expect us to believe that this native is the bright god Heimdall. Is that it? The skins he wears, you think that is the snow-white armour the watchman of the gods?”

            “Silence, cur, for that is Heimdall. Look, he bears the Giallar-horn, the trumpet with which he sounds the passage of the gods from earth to heaven”, Leif angrily replied.

            “But what about the sword he’s supposed to have. That spear is just a whittled branch.”

            “Do not belittle the guardian of the Rainbow. That is the horn that will signal the beginning of Ragnarok, the battle at the end of the world. Look at Bifrost. What colours do you see? The first are the red of fire, the blue of air and the green of the sea, just as legend says. Does anyone doubt this is the work of the gods?” Leif looked around at his men as he asked.

            “I stand with my brother”, Kalf stated. Kalf and Ivar were not related and his mention of kinship referred to their faith.

            “Then so be it”, Leif said. He turned back to scan the activities of the stranger.

            “This Heimdall has the same look and features as the people we found living in Greenland when we first arrived in our longships”, Kalf continued.  This brought nods and murmurs of assent from some of the crew.

            “These are the doubts of lesser minds, of men with narrow souls who cannot grasp the truth when it shown to them”, Leif stated.  “I am the Captain here and we must seek the answers. I will question Heimdall once more. Bragi, with me.” The two strode inside the circle of standing stones and made their way to the old man. The light was blinding and they covered their eyes, looking through the cracks between their fingers.

            As they walked forward, the white-garbed stranger stood, turned and then hobbled towards them as fast as his old legs would still move.  Some three yards or so in front of them and held his spear out horizontally, as if to bar their further progress. The look on his face confirmed this intent.

            “Heimdall, Guardian of Bifrost and Lord of Himinbiorg, your palace, we wish to travel across this Rainbow Bridge to Asgard. Tell us what service you require for us to earn this, the greatest of honours. We know no mortal man has made this journey before but we swear to you our loyalty and obedience.” Leif would have made a good preacher, Bragi found himself thinking despite the enormity of what was going on around him.  Almost as soon as Leif had started to speak, the old man had put the shell to his ear once more, with a quizzical look on his face.

            The man creaked out more in his babbling tongue but stood firm. As he talked, Leif’s eye caught some movement in a tree off to the left in the forest below. Straining his eyesight, he made out a large black-feathered bird sat on a branch, pointedly looking up at him.  The All-father, Odin, had often disguised himself as a raven. What should he make of all this, he wondered, his thoughts spinning. When the old man had finished, they both bowed reverentially and returned to the others.

            “The Watchman has confirmed himself to me, for as it is said in the legends of old, Heimdall would never let mortal men traverse the Rainbow Bridge”, he explained. Bragi looked down, unsure of how to react.

            “It is just some old heathen priest”, Kalf shouted from the back, “and this place is some strange natural thing, maybe like a waterfall but made of sunlight.”

            Leif drew his sword and advanced menacingly at the fat sailor. “I have had enough of your crowing. Speak out of turn again and I shall cut your belly open as if it were a wine-skin.” He turned to address all of them. “Now. We must placate good Heimdall if we are to cross the Bridge. And Odin has granted me his wisdom as I know how it must be done!”

Now go onto read Chapter Three! 
 

Milleniums of Jorth - Chapter one..

A story set a thousand years ago, in which Viking explorers discover North America (or Vinland) and in doing so, find Bifrost, the legendary bridge to Asgard!

Milleniums of Jorth

by Adam Manning

 Chapter 1

The End

Bragi felt the breath of death on his back. His legs stumbled on the irregular forest floor, so tired and numb now. Already his evil-soaked follower had taken the lives of all their comrades until only Bragi was left. The death that chased him was too strong and too sly for any normal man to lose even in the unexplored, dark tree world in which they ran. With every laugh from his pursuer’s feral throat, Bragi knew that he was lost too. Once or twice he glanced back to see what distance there remained between them only to note the gains the other made with every stride. The naked sky-coloured figure, arms held aloft momentarily, howled in victory and then leapt after him again. Bragi knew death was on his heel. And this death was his older brother and Captain, Leif Ericsson.

Why could he not turn and plead with him to spare his life, that of his only brother? Surely Leif would listen. That was suicidal folly though; Leif had plunged into an abyss bereft of reason these past few days. Perhaps the woad, the light blue skin paint of the warrior, which he had daubed all over him gave Leif the magical strength to keep running when others would have long since come to a halt. Leif had boasted the previous night that he had gained the favour of the gods, that Odin himself now dwelled within his body. If this was so, should he not stop and let the gods mete out their own justice upon him?  To do otherwise would be to question the gods themselves. His mind a reeling confusion, Bragi did not notice as his legs began to falter even more.

The gods. How different had Leif’s teaching on such matters been before they had come to this island. Like a gull returning to a long lost nest, his thoughts flew to a safe time just three days ago. On the canvass of his memory a picture appeared, that of their ship sailing bravely along an uncharted coast. How long ago that all seemed now.

* * * 

“The gods are dead. Long live God!” Leif proclaimed happily to his first mate Thorfinn.  Despite his gleeful exterior, he felt some nagging memory gnawing at him. He tried to summon it forth so that he might deal with it and put it aside but everytime it twisted out of his grasp. Their ship, the Surfrider, was making good progress. It was a large merchant ship, or knorr. Their voyage was only the latest in his family’s history of exploration. These had begun some twenty years ago after the rulers of Iceland decided to banish his father, Eric the Red, as punishment for an outrageous act of homicide. Sailing out into the Western Ocean, Eric discovered a large island to the north-west and called it Greenland. After returning to Iceland for colonists, Eric and his followers settled in Greenland at a place they called Brattahild. There, Leif had grown up amongst the pagan farmer folk of that land, learning the tales about the gods such as Thor and Odin. He also talked with many of the traders and merchantmen who, though it was quite rarely, sailed to their far shores.

Only one year ago, Leif decided to journey back to Norway, their ancestral home. His family had become as prosperous as a family could hope to be living in such a harsh land and he used two ship, one for him and one for trading cargo, on the journey. Once there, he had been taught about the ways of the Krist by the priests. He had been told that the old gods had been thrown down and now the Lord was the ruler of men’s hearts. So joyous was the teaching the priests gave him, how he could hope to live on eternally after his body had died and how God’s love could give him a shield far stronger than any made from wood or metal, that he eagerly took on this new spiritual raiment. He was a special guest of King Olaf’s clergy, coming as he did from a far-off outpost, and they kindly requested that he share his freshly minted coins of truth with the Greenlanders when he returned. This request Leif had eagerly accepted.

On the journey back though Leif’s imagination had become enflamed by a hitherto unsuspected spark of ambition.  Just as his father had discovered and then settled a new land, so Leif now wished to sight domains previously unseen.  These new regions he would claim for Krist, whose banner Leif now fervently carried in his heart.  A sailor by the name of Bjarne Herjultsson had once told Leif how some fifteen years ago he had sailed far to the west and had glimpsed a green arc of land on the horizon that suggested a lush and it was to this place Leif had turned his ships, in this, the one thousandth year since the birth of Krist.

Indeed they had spotted land to the west and had beached their ships three times already. The first place they called Helluland, the next Markland and the last (where they had made their settlement) was called Vinland, named after the plentiful vines they imagined such a sweet place should grow.  At no time had they seen any native peoples. This was unexpected as a strange race of men had been found on Greenland and it seemed only natural more would be found in these warmer climes.

But Leif had wanted to press on even then and see more of this new country. After the rough houses were constructed, Leif took one of the ships and crewed it with his most skilled sailors. He told those that were to remain that they were off to seek even more pleasant surroundings in which to live but he knew secretly that this was not the real reason for the continuation of their journey. Something small, vague yet persistent, folded deep down in his soul was unravelling and it was this that made him push on, made him unable to rest just yet. Perhaps this was his destiny then, to never find a harbour in which to put in for good and to always have to go on. But these doctrines, of destiny, of fate or (as it was called by his kinsmen) of the wyrd, were a relic of his people’s pagan past that should have been thrown out like yesterday’s night-soil. He quickly dismissed such thoughts.

They had followed the coast, putting in to shore every night. What improvements the new faith had brought them, Leif thought on one of these evenings round the fire. No longer were they tied to the gods or their bizarre rituals, no more did they fear for the end of the world at the great battle of Ragnarok but instead knew that there would be a resurrection of the dead. Where once his countrymen were feared as killers and slayers, now they traded and farmed.  The Krist had indeed soothed even the Viking soul.

These musings came back to Leif has he trod the deck of the Surfrider.  He remembered that shortly afterwards their supplies had begun to run low and crewmen mumbled about starving.  Hunting in the areas just off shore was not yielding enough game to keep them happy and Leif had just decided that they ought to turn back for Vinland when a curious wind filled their sail. It blew from the north-east, in direct contrast to the normal winds of the region which originated from the south-west. Intrigued, Leif had to use all his bellowing rage to keep his men from sailing back to the settlement as they wished.  Instead he now ordered them to go in the direction that this unnatural wind wanted to take them.  With this weird breeze on his back, Leif found it difficult not to turn over the old heathen tales of his ancestors in his mind again despite the teachings of the priests.

To starboard, where the coast lay, the shore came to an end. The ship was blown on and they looked to see a huge bay. A hard day’s sailing took them to the other side of the opening of the bay and there they had landed for the night.  Here the terrain and weather were both the mildest yet and they found enough food, both plant and animal, to keep them somewhat satiated.  As they set sail the next morning, Leif had wondered to himself whether the wind could guide men’s destinies.  Yet, he reasoned, all things serve the will of God and that included the wind.  This conclusion was enough to save him from further worry.

That had been this morning and it now some hours later. The look out declared, “land ahoy!” and they were soon sailing for a green line on the horizon, obviously earth abundant with leaf and bush. As he stared out beyond the Surfrider’s prow, a dark gloom settled on Leif’s heart.  Though the clear sky was ruled by a dazzling sun, a rumbling thundercloud blackened his mood but he could not understand why.  Around him, his crew seemed untroubled and were eagerly going about their business.  An oarsman, Finn, caught him by the arm saying, “maybe this place will be good enough for you then, Captain?”. His friends chuckled at this playful mocking of their leader.  Leif snatched his arm back. 

“We’ll see”, he muttered. The others were started at this switch to a surly demeanour.  “Get back to your duties.  Attend me not, it is just some useless worry that has taken hold of me for the moment”, he told them. “I wish to land on that shore before noon”. The odd wind had now become less than a playful breeze.

The ship drew closer, cutting through the gentle swells. It seemed to the Surfrider’s  crew that the land they neared was either and island or a large peninsula as it jutted out into the sea.  Only a short distance had they traversed when the look out in the prow gave another shout.

            “Yon land greets us with a bright rainbow, Captain!”  Leif merely grunted sullenly at this news.  It appeared that the area of the island (as they presumed it to be) to which they were no sailing was not fit for the purposes of landing the ship and he barked the necessary orders to change their vessel’s heading. He paid the subject of his look out’s call no attention as inside a whirling sensation had taken hold of him, as if the fabric of his mind was unravelling. So afflicted by this was he that he took hold of the gunwhale in order to steady himself, lest he fall to the deck as if drunk.

As the ship came about gently and slid off westerly of their previous direction, the look out cried out again.  A touch of incredulity now coloured his speech.  “Captain, in the name of Heaven, look sir! That rainbow’s not like any I’ve seen before. Look!”

            “What boy? Have these days at sea addled your wits?” Leif snapped.  He turned to where the dark-haired lad jabbed at with his index finger and gasped. The Surfrider had now drawn up to within two hundred yards of the island.  They could see a narrow, rocky shore that was quickly overtaken by a dense wall of trees behind it.  But towering over these like a shimmering arc of silver was a rainbow, or at least a rainbow of sorts. For though one end of it must have had its origins within the forest in a region not far from shore, the other end could not be determined.  Instead the rainbow curved straight up into the sky and disappeared beyond the clouds, which it illumined with a soft, colourful glow.  In shape, it looked like the bottom half of the back of a bow, instead of the full semi-circle as was expected of rainbows.  As he studied it, his fingers rubbing his bearded chin  thoughtfully, Leif noted that from their vantage point the rainbow arced away from them to starboard. Thorfinn and the others gazed up in awe and puzzlement too.

The Surfrider glided over the waves.  As the crew worked to alter its direction so that its could run parallel with the coast of the island, they conferred about what exactly it was they were seeing.

            “It is written in the Book, that God’s covenant with Man was made after the Flood and that the sign of His covenant is the rainbows”, Kalf explained, his hands resting on the black belt that looked like the only thing that restrained his enormous girth.  Like many of Leif’s crew, he too had been converted to the new way.  “We should look upon this rainbow as a sign that we are favoured by the All-Father in his journey.” They now sought to bring the sail in and put the oars out to bring the ship in as near as possible to the shore.  The All-Father was a title that had been used to honour Odin, the heathen chief of the gods, but was now used in a similar fashion to venerate the Lord.

            “See how a glittering rain falls from the bow like a gentle waterfall in summer?” Ivar said, the oldest of them and also a Kristian.  He was tall and gaunt and moved in an animated fashion. Having sailed nearer the apparent source of the weird curve of colour, all could now see that indeed a thin veil of droplets fell from along its length like a curtain of jewels.  “This must surely be God’s sign, which He made after He rid the world of the evil ones that lived before his righteous Flood.”  Leif had taken no part in this discourse and had instead stared out at the strange phenomenon.  Though he stood as if he had been carved in wood, all could feel something inside him churning or winding, as if some demon thrashed at his soul.  A number of his crew now gazed at him, pondering why their Captain was standing so still and uttering all the words of a statue.  Finally he spoke.

            “Bifrost”, he stated defiantly, a brush of his arm indicating he meant the rainbow.  Those listening took a step back.  Leif himself was as surprised as his shipmates at his announcement.

            “No, Captain. It cannot be, those are the old legends taught in pagan days when our lands had not heard the good teachings of the Krist. Surely you must see?” Ivar pleaded.

            “Bifrost”, again Leif proclaimed, turning to his men at last. “It is the Rainbow Bridge, that connection between the world of men and the world of the gods.” Some shuddered at this blasphemy, others muttered their agreement.  “I mean to cross that archway to Asgard.” Leif’s thoughts had grown focussed again, his inner turmoil resolved with a startling, cold clarity.

            “Aye, it would seem to be the image of that span which bridges Midgard to the home of the immortals, my brother”, Bragi Ericsson agreed. Leif knew he could always expect his closest kinsman’s allegiance. The majority of the crew, Kristians by inclination, were not so quick to reach this conclusion. Ivar muttered contemptuously under his breath but was heard by his Captain. Leif grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

            “Do none of you see?” he asked them all, turning to address them. “We must sail this rocky shore to a safer spot and look for a beach to land the ship upon. Then we must make for this rainbow, this Bifrost, and then we shall to which god it belongs.”

The others were not overly convinced.  But eventually Leif persuaded them, promising them gifts of honour, beer and a little (in some cases very little) gold upon their return to Greenland if they would do this for him. The Surfrider’s crew brought her round the rocky outcrop of the island and luckily a short distance up the coast was a fine beach. Whilst Leif and the others were busily engaged in this work, whether it be at the rudder or at the oar, the look out gazed fixedly at the apparition.  As they approached the beach, he gave another excited cry.

            “Look now Captain! That rainbow has grown sir!” Like all the crew, the youthful look out had seen plenty of them before, but this one was unique. They all looked up once more and indeed, the rainbow had grown. Or rather, it was as if they had drawn closer to it. This was again very different from all the rainbows they had seen before: none could remember having actually ever gotten close to a rainbow. Instead, as Ivar explained, they always seemed to keep the same distance between themselves and the observer.

            “Perhaps if you should find the pot at the end there Captain, we may be getting our gold a little earlier than you thought!” Finn mused, his long blonde hair shaking softly as he chuckled.  As the ship had turned round the headland, they had watched the view of the rainbow change. Whereas before they had been looking at it from an angle and saw the great curve sweeping upward, they now saw it almost directly head on. From this new direction the rainbow seemed to go straight up, a bright spear of green, blue and all the other hues, piercing the clouds. This too, in even the most salty seamen’s knowledge, was unprecedented.

Now they headed for the shore.  The Surfrider, some two dozen yards long, was rowed in close to the shore and the anchor dropped just short of the point where it would been in danger of running aground.  Some of the crew, Gunnar, Svein and Bjorn, leaped over the gunwhale to land chest deep in the tide. They helped as a long ramp was latched onto the ship’s side and then lowered down.  This provided access to the beach and meant (as long as the wind did not blow too strongly) none had to get too wet going ashore.

From the beach, the thick trees that dominated the landscape beyond the beach meant they could no longer see the lowest portion of the rainbow where it climbed up from the forest.  But they had reckoned before that if the rainbow met the ground, that spot must lie some half a dozen miles inland of where they had weighed anchor.  After only the shortest pauses for food and the setting up of a rudimentary camp on the beach, Leif led sixteen of his score of men into the woods.  They hacked and slashed their way through the dense foliage, sometimes stopping as the roar or grunt of some unknown beast surprised them.  But they were unmolested bar the usual swarms of gnats and flies they had come to expect in these warm lands.

Many hours passed in this fashion.  Some began to ask if they ought to turn back to the ship lest they have to spend a fitful night sleeping on the forest floor, waking at every cough from whatever monsters lived thereabouts.  Leif pressed on at the party’s front, his axe head greatly dulled from the labour it had been put too.

            “We must be near Bifrost, my brave lads. See, the trees have more reach for their branches here?” The others grunted their acquiescence. The thinning of the forest made their passage easier and this was coupled in all of them with a curiosity to see the rainbow’s source. It occurred to Leif that perhaps this episode was awakening the Viking lust for exploration in all of them. At his side strode Bragi.

Shortly it grew quite dark and the hoots and cries from the forest’s animal denizens grew bolder. Across the forest floor, at the furthest point that could be seen between the trees, a diffuse light glowed.  Cringing, Svein recounted a family tale concerning malignant elves inhabiting such woods as these, pointing to this latest strange sight.  Leif silenced him with a glare.  He stepped boldly towards it and Bragi and he soon discerned the lower reaches of a hillock from whose height the gentle illumination shone. The trees stopped an unnatural distance away from the base of this singular ascension from the ground as if a barrier prevented them from growing nearer to it.  The Surfrider’s crew paid no attention to this, transfixed as they were by the luminescence from above.

Leif and Bragi jogged to the bottom of the hillock, holding the hilts of their scabbarded swords.  The others followed less impatiently, full of trepidation.

Now read chapter two here...