He plucked the string of the lyre, listening carefully for proper tuning. A clap of thunder seemed to shake the longhouse, like an earthquake, drowning out the musical note.
“Papa!” she cried out, leaping into her father’s arms, not out of fear, but from her excitement.
“You heard it, Papa! That mighty blow must have dropped a dozen trolls,” she said.
“Indeed, child,” he said, propping the lyre against the chair as he hugged his daughter close, “Thor is powerful, pitted in this battle. The sound you heard came from Mjolnir. It’s might staggers the very mountains. Surely no mere trolls can remain standing.”
She smiled brightly, the firelight dancing on her ruddy cheeks, and reflecting from her light blue eyes.
“How long will this battle last, Papa? Will the rains come?”
“It is not for us to know. Your grandfather read the runes and foresaw this great battle, but the Gods work on their own time.” He adjusted the girl to his right thigh and picked up the lyre, strumming it with his arm around her.
She recognized the tune immediately.
“The tranquility song!” she said, “may I sing it with you?”
“You must, if we are to have peaceful sleep, tonight.”
Another burst of thunder shook the house, and then the turf roof took a pelting from large drops. Erik continued to play the tune, though it was drowned out by the celestial battle. Erik sang the angry verse, representing the army of giants, trolls, and ogres, in a disordered march to meet the Aesir on the field of battle. He belted out the words, his deep bass voice booming and growling. The others in the longhouse began to gather for his song. Or more correctly, gathered to hear Svanhild.
She sang in her sweet, soothing voice. Taking the role of the mermaids, she mimed brushing her golden hair and distracted and attracted the monstrous horde to the beach, as she sat on the sandbar. She offered them food and drink and the love of her sisters, if only they laid down their clubs and axes and swords. And they did.
Then Erik slaughtered them with the fast paced charge of the Aesir. He quickened the pace of the music, and the song, as Odin led the charge on his mount Sleipnir, and his sons led the host against the dulled beasts. And Thor’s hammer struck again as the song ended. The last burst of the evening. Svanhild smile at her father as the family applauded the performance. And they all settled in for a peaceful night.
*** Viking stuff is pretty awesome. I've been in love with Norse mythology since my first issue of Walt Simonson's The Mighty Thor. Whenever I hear thunder, I think about Thor and Mjolnir doing battle with giants. I'm a little weird like that.
“Papa!” she cried out, leaping into her father’s arms, not out of fear, but from her excitement.
“You heard it, Papa! That mighty blow must have dropped a dozen trolls,” she said.
“Indeed, child,” he said, propping the lyre against the chair as he hugged his daughter close, “Thor is powerful, pitted in this battle. The sound you heard came from Mjolnir. It’s might staggers the very mountains. Surely no mere trolls can remain standing.”
She smiled brightly, the firelight dancing on her ruddy cheeks, and reflecting from her light blue eyes.
“How long will this battle last, Papa? Will the rains come?”
“It is not for us to know. Your grandfather read the runes and foresaw this great battle, but the Gods work on their own time.” He adjusted the girl to his right thigh and picked up the lyre, strumming it with his arm around her.
She recognized the tune immediately.
“The tranquility song!” she said, “may I sing it with you?”
“You must, if we are to have peaceful sleep, tonight.”
Another burst of thunder shook the house, and then the turf roof took a pelting from large drops. Erik continued to play the tune, though it was drowned out by the celestial battle. Erik sang the angry verse, representing the army of giants, trolls, and ogres, in a disordered march to meet the Aesir on the field of battle. He belted out the words, his deep bass voice booming and growling. The others in the longhouse began to gather for his song. Or more correctly, gathered to hear Svanhild.
She sang in her sweet, soothing voice. Taking the role of the mermaids, she mimed brushing her golden hair and distracted and attracted the monstrous horde to the beach, as she sat on the sandbar. She offered them food and drink and the love of her sisters, if only they laid down their clubs and axes and swords. And they did.
Then Erik slaughtered them with the fast paced charge of the Aesir. He quickened the pace of the music, and the song, as Odin led the charge on his mount Sleipnir, and his sons led the host against the dulled beasts. And Thor’s hammer struck again as the song ended. The last burst of the evening. Svanhild smile at her father as the family applauded the performance. And they all settled in for a peaceful night.
*** Viking stuff is pretty awesome. I've been in love with Norse mythology since my first issue of Walt Simonson's The Mighty Thor. Whenever I hear thunder, I think about Thor and Mjolnir doing battle with giants. I'm a little weird like that.