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I awoke in a forest glade. I had not been wearing my armor in the mead hall, and Dragon-Man did not see fit to send it along.
I checked to see that no one else was around and then set out to the North. There were tall mountains that way, but the Dragon-Man had said to go North. It didn't seem wise to disobey. I was just guessing at my direction. It seemed to be evening, and the sun was on my left. I had to trust that, wherever I was, things were not so different.
Night came and two moons hung in the sky. I began to doubt my earlier assumptions, but I had no choice but to move on in the morning. It took three days to find a pass, fortunately rabbits were plentiful and easy to catch in this land. The pass was barred by a great gate in the middle, and the first men I had seen were patrolling it, in leather and chain. I was glad to see men, and not some fantastical creatures. Two moons aside, maybe this land was not so different after all.
I climbed over the wall in the night, we vikingrs are masters of stealth, after all. I was quite certain no one noticed me as I began descending from the height of the pass, until an arrow thudded into the tree trunk by my head and a voice bellowed something I could not understand. Well... the meaning was quite clear, since five armored men with bows drawn were advancing on me. I know when I can not win a fight, or run, we vikingrs are very wise, after all. I sat down and waited for them to come capture me.
I believe they tried to interrogate me. They certainly shouted at me a lot, and hit me often, but I could not understand their speech, or they mine. In the end, they beat me unconscious and I was glad for it, as the whole ordeal was becoming boring as well as painful.
I woke up in a wagon, without my sword or knife, with my hands bound, and a blond man in a different type of armor talking to me. He was also bound. So were the other two men with us, and the men and women in a wagon ahead of us. Many were wearing the same colors. Thanes of some Jarl I presumed, captured by the same people who had captured me.
I didn't understand anything being said by the two men across from me, except the name of the gagged man beside me: Jarl Ulfric. It was a rock to hold on to, a title and a name I could recognize! I knew nothing of this Ulfric, but I immediately felt a kinship to him, from his name alone.
We rode into a small walled town, and as we passed the gates, I saw them, speaking to a man in ornate armor, clearly the leader of this warband: alfar.
This must be Alfheim, I thought. But why are so many men here? Are they enslaved? Is the man in ornate armor reporting to his alfar master? Where am I? I tried to think. The Dragon-Man didn't call it Alfheim. He called it... Sky-rim... but maybe those are two names for the same place?
My thoughts were interrupted when the wagon stopped and we were prodded out into a courtyard with a headsman's block. My heart sank. This was to be my end? An execution in a strange land? No glorious death in battle? No chance for a Valkyrie to take me to Valhalla? Perhaps I could make a run for it, we vikingr are very fast on our feet, but the one called Lokir moved before me. He seemed quite speedy, but his lack of success was instructive.
The man beside the armored woman asked me questions, I think, but all I could do was give him my best glare. We vikingrs have fearsome glares. Neither he nor the woman seemed to be impressed. I began feeling that the mild winters in Vinland must have made me soft, and sapped my ferocity. I thought perhaps it was right that I would not go to Valhalla.
The first man selected to die did so with bravado and dignity. I resolved to be like him, striding boldly to the block, whomever he was. When they motioned me forward I puffed up my chest and took big steps. We vikingrs die well, whatever the circumstances, I decided.
I awaited my fate, giving the headsman my best glare when... it... appeared: a mighty wyrm! It roared and the sky began to rain fire, it roared again and everyone was knocked about, myself included.
I hit my head on the paving stones pretty hard. I don't remember much detail for a time after that. The blond man who was in the cart with me, Ralof the killers called him, wanted me to follow him into a nearby tower. I did so... we vikingrs are very pragmatic... and we found others of his comrades and the Jarl Ulfric there. But soon I was running with one of my captors through the town, until we encountered Ralof again and I had to decide who to follow. Not much of a choice there, I greatly prefer the company of people who don't try to cut off my head.
I stripped some armor and an axe off of a dead body and Ralof and I began trying to escape. I felt better already, just to have a weapon in my hand. Two moons, alfar, wyrms... a man can cope with anything, if he has a good weapon.
I gave it a few practice swings. I'm a sword man, myself, but an axe will do well enough for now.
Right. I was getting pretty tired of this world happening to me. Time to start happening to it!
We vikingrs are a dynamic bunch, after all.
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