Jump to new as of April 10, 2002
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single Viking in possession of a good knarr must be in search of a wife. This is the tale of two such Vikings, Darcalf and Bingil.
However, our story opens in the small sea-side English town of Nethermore, in the large and prosperous cottage of a very successful farmer.
"Oh, Mr. Beeeeennnnnneeettttttttt!!!!!"
"Mrs. Bennet, your screeching is extremely likely to terrify all the livestock. If you must screech so, kindly do it near the crows, so that it will be lost in their cawing."
"But I have just learnt from Hill (who was in charge of overseeing their hired hands) that Vikings have invaded our village! You must take up your pitchfork and defend us from them!"
"I most certainly will not. As far as I am concerned they can capture as many of my daughters as they want, provided they leave me the eldest two."
"Mr. Bennet! Sometimes I think that you do not care for your family at all!"
"Do not fear, Mrs. Bennet. Should I see any Vikings carrying you off, I assure you that I mourn his fate for many weeks." Mrs. Bennet was stunned into silence, and in this silence Mr. Bennet grabbed his pitchfork, and went to fight off the attack.
From off the knarr ran Bingil and Darcalf, two Vikings. One extremely cheerful and energetic and with curly blond hair and beard, the other dark haired and bearded and brooding. In between parrying the attacks of the farmers, they talk.
"So, Darcalf! There seems to be a vast array of beautiful women in this town. What do you think of that one, over there with the pitchfork?"
"I do not think her worth the effort of capturing."
The woman in question glared at him, and threw her pitchfork at his head like a spear.
He ducked. (and we all know who she is, don't we?)
"Oh! But that one over there...."
"Bingil! Don't run off in the middle of battle! Bingil!"
"Stop! I beg you! I am a maiden of honour!" cried Jane, as Bingil chased after her.
"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry!" cried Bingil, immediately stopping.
"Er... What?" asked Jane, turning around and gazing at him in utter confusion.
"I said I'm awfully sorry. I didn't mean to cause you distress. I was simply awed by your beauty."
"Really?"
"Why, of course!"
"Why... I'm flattered! What's your name then?"
"Bingil. And yours?"
"It's Jane."
Soon it comes time for the Vikings to return with their plunder to the ship. They do not burn down the village, as these are nice Vikings who are supposed to become romantic heroes, and, although many farmers have lumps on their heads, none have been killed. Jane hops into Bingil's arms, and hurries to the ship.
"Bingil! Who is this woman?"
"This is Jane! I'm in love with her! But do you think I should tear her away from her family in this way?"
"Oh, yes, certainly. There is an obvious return of affection."
(I should here point out that Darcy encouraging the coming together of Jane and Bingil will probably be more upsetting to Elizabeth than his keeping them apart, do you not think?)
"Wonderful! Let us return to Norway then!"
Author's note: In the last installment, Jane was kidnapped by the Viking Bingil. Well, I say kidnapped, but it was really more that she ran off with him. Meanwhile, the Viking Darcalf has managed to offend our Lizzy. What will the citizens of Nethermore do?
"Mr. Bennet! Your daughter has been kidnapped by Vikings! Why aren't you doing something?!"
"My dear, there is very little I can actually do, unless you have hidden a large ship full of warriors somewhere and haven't told me about it."
"But Jane -"
"If you have some plan, I will gladly put it into operation. Otherwise -"
Mrs. Bennet pounced on this statement, and would not let it go.
Meanwhile, Lizzy, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia discussed the loss of their sister.
"So Jane found some handsome, well-muscled Viking and ran off with him. And why couldn't he have kidnapped me?" said Lydia.
"Lydia!" exclaimed Lizzy, "Your sister faces who knows what depravities at the hands of immoral Scandinavians, and you talk so lightly of it."
"Many would worship other gods, and think these gods the equal of our Lord and master. However, Thor, Odin, and the like are gods of evil and violence. Worshippers of these devils are outside of the light of the Lord, and stumble around blindly in darkness. It is our mission to convert them," said Mary.
There were a few moments of silence.
"Well, it's true! I read it in the Venerable Bede's Sermons." said Mary, petulantly, and sat down on a treestump.
"Did you see her kidnapper?" asked Kitty.
"I saw him both before and after he kidnapped Jane. He was a tall, rather large fellow, covered with curly blond hair. And he was with some horrible black-bearded fellow, who not only insulted me whilst I tried to protect our village, but also seemed to be encouraging that other Viking in his kidnapping! And as well, that blond brute must have knocked Jane out, because he was carrying her without struggle, and we know that your sister is a very sweet girl, and not the type to give in to such rough men as these!"
Lydia, meanwhile, was trying to plot a way to get a Viking of her own to kidnap her.
Lady Catherine, the feudal landlord of most of the town of Nethermore ever since her husband's death (though her power did not extend to the Bennet's property, which was controlled by the liberal Lord Knightley) , upon hearing of the attack immediately came down to the town to give advice upon the proper way to defend against Viking attacks, bringing her daughter, Anne. The priest of the town's church came out to greet them.
"Greetings, my noble Lady Catherine, and to your fine and most noble daughter as well. I thank you for condescending to come and advise us on how to prevent another attack on our fair town, which I assure you we know to be a great honour, and I pledge to do everything I may to help further your plans."
"Your greeting pleases me. Now, it's time for all you peasants to get to work! I think what we will need are underground tunnels big enough for all the town and livestock to run into. I thereby command each family to dig such a structure. I trust you will not fail me!"
The citizens, save Mr. Bennet, tugged their forelocks and went off to do her bidding.
"And why do you fail to obey me?"
"I'm under Lord Knightley's protection, my dear."
"Knightley. I can see why that would make you have a lack of respect for authority, and I shall this once forgive it."
"However, you do realise that your plan will never work. Farewell, my dear! I shall see you later!"
"Rash impertinence! I send no blessings to your family. Your good health is not wished for! I shall have you jailed!"
"Actually, I'm one of Knightley's relations. And I do believe that he has a bigger army than yours?"
Lady Catherine was taken aback, but glared scathingly at him and said, "You may be his relation, and I may not be able to send you to the prison in which you belong, but you will pay for rousing the wrath of Lady Catherine de Bourgh!" she cried, 'ere storming off.
Mr. Bennet walked quietly away, grinning at the fact that she had absolutely no idea who he was, so that it would be very hard for her wrath to materialise, and continued to ay, grinning at the fact that she had absolutely no idea who he was, so that it would be very hard for her wrath to materialise, and continued to search for Lizzy.
Mrs. Bennet's plan had the glory of simplicity, and a strong likelihood it would never work. Simply put, Mr. Bennet would go to their third cousins, Lord and Lady Gardiner's, and attempt to raise a small navy to go and search Scandinavia for Jane. As Mrs. Bennet could not be convinced as to the extreme size of Scandinavia, Mr. Bennet was soon convinced to flee the house, to visit his relatives, and, more importantly, to get away from his wife. Lizzy was sent with him, as even in times of family crisis Mrs. Bennet sought to marry off her daughters to eligible suitors.
(Meanwhile, over in Scandinavia, Jane and Bingil had been married at an altar dedicated to Baldur the Beautiful, and were immensely happy. Jane missed her family, it is true, but in her optimism, shared by Bingil, she was quite convinced that they could visit her parents in a few months. It was a good thing that Lizzy had seen her being carried off, and the smile she had thrown at her... The rest could be explained later.)
On their way to Lord and Lady Gardiner's, they stopped by Lord and Lady Knighley's (their second cousins) for the night.
"Thomas!" said Lord Knightley, for that is Mr. Bennet's name, "How good to see you and your daughter again! Have you reconsidered about accepting that Baronetcy I offered you?"
"Not yet, dear George!" replied Mr. Bennet, his eyes twinkling, "I am afraid that I quite enjoy the life of a simple farmer still. Anyway, the happiness that it would provide Mrs. Bennet could easily become enough to kill her in her ecstasies. I dare not."
"And how is Mrs. Bennet?"
"Much as she always is. Loud, annoying, but still, I love her. Ah, well!"
"Father! You haven't mentioned Jane!" exclaimed Elizabeth.
"Oh, yes. She was kidnapped by Vikings."
"What?" said Lord Knightley.
"Carried off during a recent attack on our town. But it's not so bad. Did you know that Vikings wash five times more often as the locals here?"
"Actually, that's not so difficult to do, Thomas."
"Well, yes. In any case, I suspect that with Jane's sweet temper she can be happy no matter where she goes."
"Father! How do you know she is not in agony at this very minute! We must do something!" said Lizzy.
"And so we shall! But why worry about it until we can?"
At this point Lady Knightley entered.
"Greetings, Lady Knightley!" exclaimed Mr. Bennet.
"Mr. Bennet! And Lizzy! I'm so glad you came! I found the perfect husband for you -"
"Emma!" cried Lord Knightley in frustration.
"Oh, George! I promise you this one is a most appropriate match. He's the priest over in their home town of Nethermore!"
"Mr. Collins!!!!" exclaimed Mr. Bennet and Lizzy in horror.
"Does that mean you don't like him?"
Leaving Lord and Lady Knightley, the two continued to Lord and Lady Gardiner, who were even more powerful than the Knightleys, though their good nature never caused anyone to suspect it.
"Oh, Thomas!" cried Lady Madeline Gardiner. "How good to have you with us! Can I offer you anything? Food, drink, a title?"
"Some food might be nice. However, I must decline the title."
"Would you at least accept a Baronetcy or a Knighthood? It's the least we can do," said Lord Gardiner.
"No, no thank you. I'll be fine. I'm quite happy as I am now."
"Well, as long as you are happy!" said Lady Madeline. "So, what brings you here?"
"I fear that Jane has been kidnapped by Vikings. My dear wife has proposed that you might be able to help us?"
"Poor Jane! We shall certainly do all we can!" cried Lord Gardiner.
"Thank you," stated Mr. Bennet, bowing gracefully.
"However, it would help if you would take temporary control of our soldiers, as you know best what those particular Vikings looked like. If you would but kneel for a moment?"
"Has my wife been writing you again?"
"Er... yes."
"I thought so. Much as I love my wife, I fear that idleness and power would not be good for our family, and so I still must decline. However, I know you only do what you think best for me."
"Oh, very well. I just wanted to see you get some of the respect you deserve. But I must ask you to come with us when we sail. However, it will be several weeks before we can raise the army and navy we will need. Why do you not explore the charming seaside town but three miles from here to take your mind off things for the rest of today?"
"Thank you, that sounds most enjoyable."
The seaside town was indeed charming. The colourful houses, the golden beaches, the blue sea, the fishing vessels, and the incomprehensible accents combined into a delightfully quaint beauty, much more so than the drab houses of the oppressive Lady Catherine's demense. (Although canny readers might realise that its most important attribute is its seaside location) However, her father eventually began to grow weary, long before Lizzy, and so, after happily ensconcing him in a pub, she continued with her search, smiling softly as her father's voice began to join in the singing.
"Tonoight we will merry merry be...."
She proceeded down to the beach just in time for the Vikings' arrival.
Back in Nethermore, Lady Catherine had troops patrolling the town, lest the Vikings would return. This was, of course, incredibly stupid of her, as they had only just left from pillaging, but it gave her an excellent excuse to meddle in the townspeople's affairs. One of the troops, as the canny reader might suspect, was a fellow by the name of George Wickham...
However, oddly enough, he found himself greatly out of favour with many of the young ladies. He could not figure why. Did not the dashing and romantic soldier, the adventurous rogue appeal anymore?
Then he remembered the Vikings. "Damn!" thought he. Who would have guessed that being even a greater rogue could appeal even more? Of course, he missed most of the point. This is Wickham, remember.
The Viking knarr pulled up, and Lizzy fled - not from fear, of course, she merely wanted to get a weapon. Suddenly, to her right she saw an axe, stuck into a treestump, next to a pile of firewood. She turned, grabbed it, spun round, and brandished it at the Vik-
She then grumbled, rolled her eyes, and went in search of an appropriate Viking to brandish it at. Her honour may have been annoyingly safe, but the town was not.
In the distance, she saw Darcalf, and remembered him. She ran towards him, calling out warcries: Warcries not in the manner of, for instance, Princess Xena, but more in the manner of Bingil's sister upon learning Bingil had married Jane.
Darcalf watched her masterful handling of the axe, and immediately fell to his knees. "I have long dreamed of finding a woman of strength and purpose. I had thought that she would be a Norseman, like myself, as we are, as you know, usually far superior to the English in that respect. But it would seem that you far surpass all of them - I should have known from the moment you hurled that pitchfork at my head with perfect accuracy."
"Yes, just like you have just thrown that axe," continued Darcalf, "Though I would appreciate more warning in future. - Despite your being but a peasant's daughter, you have won my heart. Please, come away with me to Norway."
"In such circumstances as these, it is conventional for the man to take off his helmet."
"Oh, yes, how forgetful of me! I do beg your -" Lizzy at this point clubbed him with the bit of fallen branch she had been eyeing, knocking him out.
Vikheim, seeing his brother fall, ran over. (Yes, his brother, my dear readers! You shall just have to wait, won't you?) "Er... Hallo!"
"And who might you be?" said Lizzy, glaring.
"I am being Darcalf's brother. I vas vondering if I could just take him back to the ship. I am not vanting him to be left behind, ja?"
"Oh, so you're his brother then? Well! You can pass a message on to him, then, and please, do not lose any of the spite and gall when you do so. If you will, you may return him to the ship."
"Ja, I vill do that!" said the obliging Vikheim.
Bingil, meanwhile, had discovered the pub, in which Mr. Bennet had been esconced. The cheery songs encouraged him, as they always did, to join in. Pulling out a large sack he kept just for such a circumstance, he stuffed his axe and all his armour into it, and, wearing the innocuous outfit of a grey wool shirt and leather trousers, walked inside, sat down next to Mr. Bennet, coincidentally, and ordered a pint. Which was promptly given to him. Feeling in an especially good mood (which, considering this is Bingil we are speaking of, is most especial indeed!) he offered to buy his new friends a round. The bartender asked for three shillings, Bingil gave him four gold coins worth a great deal more than that, and told him to keep the change. The bartender was flabbergasted, and protested that it was too much. Bingil shrugged and told him to just keep serving rounds until his conscience was assuaged, but asked if he could please tell him when three-quarters of an hour had passed, so he wouldn't miss his appointment? The bartender naturally agreed.
Bingil beamed good-naturedly at all, and soon had caught the attention of Mr. Bennet. Especially after one fellows' recitation of "Soot-blackened smiths smattered with smoke/ Drive me to death by the din of their dintings..."* was responded by him in kind with Frithiof's Saga.
"So, you would appear to be an expert on the Norse, then?" said Mr. Bennet.
Bingil smiled. "Well, yes, I suppose I could be called that."
"I can't say I have much personal experience, save from fighting off a few raids, but judging from what appears to be a horned helmet poking through a hole in your sack, it would appear you have a much more personal knowledge of it."
Bingil blushed. "Er, well, yes, I suppose you could say that."
"Fear not, I won't expose you. You seem a very nice person, for a Viking. Unlike the one that kidnapped my daughter. Indeed, I rather wish you had gotten her instead. I think you two would be well-suited to each other."
"I shall do my best to rescue her and return her to you, if I get the chance." replied Bingil in his amiable way.
"Oh, come, my good sir! Although I wish to know she is safe, I do have five daughters. If you can manage to win her love -"
"I'm married!"
"Ah, well! In any case, I thank you for your help. I'm Thomas Bennet, by the way. I live up in Nethermore."
Bingil grew a bit pale at that statement, but managed to conceal it. Mostly. Well, except for the beer that sprayed out of his mouth onto the bartender..
"Er, I'm most dreadfully sorry! Allow me to help -"
The bartender, in an excellent mood, waved him off, smiling.
Mr. Bennet grinned. "I'm sorry that my name causes you such shock. But then, Bennet is an extremely common name."
"Yes, yes it is. Don't worry, I'm sure I can find Jane and make sure she is safe."
"I haven't mentioned her name. Congratulations! She suits you! It's just a pity that there is no way that I'm going to be able to convince my wives or daughters of that fact. Somehow I doubt that saying, 'Oh, yes, I met Jane's husband when he was diguised as a peasant so that he could visit a pub I happened to be in, whilst the rest of the horde pillaged the town slightly, and I can assure you that we need have no more fears about Jane,' will meet with general approval. However, if you're in the area, feel free to stop by. I'm sure Jane can tell you how to get there."
Bingil just sat in stunned silence, as his new-found father-in-law slapped him on the back, and began to lead the singing of "What do you do with a drunken Viking?"
It was a regional variant. Or so he claimed.
*This is part of my own translation of part of an anonymous bit of Middle English comic verse, called "Soot-blackened Smiths" (although in Middle English)
"What happened?" asked Darcalf.
"You vere hit on the head by a young woman," replied Vikheim.
"Oh, what a wonderful woman! How shall I ever make her my own?"
"Er... She gave me a message for you."
"A message? Please, I must know her feelings!"
At this moment Bingil walked in. "Ah, Darcalf! You're up! I am so very happy! I met my dear Jane's father, and he thoroughly supports the marriage!"
"You... you met her father? But... we were on a raid!"
"Oh, well I slipped into the pub."
"You slipped into the pub!" cried Darcalf, flabbergasted.
"Well, the singing coming from in there was so cheery I couldn't resist. You'd like him. Although he does have a bad habit of causing one to nearly have a heart attack every other sentence. Other than that, he's quite charming. He invited me to visit him sometime."
"But... but... your armour and axe!"
"Oh, I shoved them into a sack. Speaking of which, it has a hole in it. Do you have a spare needle and catgut?"
Darcalf became suspicious. "Do you do this a lot?"
"Oh, yes, all the time."
"That explains a great deal."
A pause ensued.
"Darcalf, do you think Jane can come on the next voyage?"
"No, most certainly -" began Darcalf, but upon seeing the face of his friend fall into despair, continued, "Oh, all right. But she stays on the ship."
Bingil beamed.
"Er, Darcalf?" asked Vikheim.
"Yes, brother?"
"Vhat about that message?"
"Oh, yes! Bingil, I've found the most wonderful woman, and she's from your wife Jane's town. I've never seen a woman that could handle a weapon like she does! And now she's sent a message for me!"
"Er, Darcalf? You're drooling everywhere," commented Bingil.
"Sorry!"
"Um.. I don't think you're going to like this..." said Vikheim.
"Oh?" asked Darcalf.
"Vell... Elizabeth vas asking me to tell you that... vun moment, I have notes." Vikheim pulled out a piece of paper covered in runes. "Right. Let's see... spite and gall... Um... You are the last person I vould ever marry, and your encouragement of that horrible blond Viking fellow who kidnapped my sister vould be enough to put me off you - Are you being all right Bingil?"
"Does... does she mean me?"
"Is your vife her sister?"
"Vhat's her last name?"
"Benny, I think... I have it written down here somevhere..."
"Bennet?"
"Ja! That is being it!"
Bingil whimpered. Vikheim tried to comfort him. Darcalf groaned.
"Brother?"
"Go on, Vikheim, I must know it all."
"Um, right... she continues, 'And though I may be but a peasant's daughter, at least I am not an immoral, horrible, violent, murdering, thieving Viking!"
"But... we aren't any of those things!" cried Bingil.
"Er, ve do thieve a bit, actually," said Vikheim.
"Well, only from people who look rich enough not to miss it. And we try to leave some of it in any houses that seem especially poor. So, Darcalf - er, Darcalf?"
"I vill go and get some vater to vake him up vith," said Vikheim."
The Vikings having left, Elizabeth's thoughts turned to her father, and she ran back to the pub. The cheerful singing continued to flow forth.
"And Oi means to get jolly well drunk, Oi do,
Oi means to get jolly well drunk, Oi do,
As long as Oi'm here, Oi'll stick to moi beer,
Oi means to get jolly well drunk, Oi do!"*
Lizzy smiled. Nothing dangerous here, at least! She fetched her father, who drunk down his pint, bid farewell to his new friends, and the two returned to Lord and Lady Gardiner's.
George Wickham may not have been liked by the younger Bennet children, but he was liked by Mrs. Bennet, who thought he would be a good match for her younger children. She invited him to dinner.
"You invited that horrible person to dinner?" cried Lydia.
"Yes! And I want you three to be very nice to him. He's worth one hundred a year!"
"One hundred???" exclaimed Kitty. "Perhaps if he were handsome, that might be enough. But that horrible red coat! And he's so insinuating!"
"Kitty! Go to your room! Have you no pity on my poor nerves? I will not have you ruining our chances for a good match!"
Kitty pouted unconvincingly, turned round, smirked at Lydia, raced upstairs, locked the door, climbed down the ivy and ran off to visit her friends, stopping by the orchard for a few apples on the way.
"Now, as for you two, I expect you to be on your best behaviour!"
In a small hut on the beach, the farmers of Nethermore met to discuss their situation.
"Oi dunt loike thaat Lady Caartherine. Oi spent the laarst week diggin' holes, and if the Voikings did come baack, Oi wouldn't dare hoide in them. No way ter escape."
"Oi caan't argue with yer, Martin, but how caan we staap her?" asked Stephen.
"Well, Oi dunt know, roightly," replied Martin, scratching his head.
"Oh, Wickham! I'm so glad you could come! These are my daughters, Mary and Lydia."
Mary frowned slightly. Lydia frowned a lot more.
"Charming, I'm sure," said Wickham.
"So, Thomas! You wanted to speak to me. What about?" said Lord Gardiner.
"Oh, I just wanted to get your opinion on someone I met in town, who appears to have a great interest in one of my daughters."
"Elizabeth has a suitor already?"
"Well, not that she's told me yet," Mr. Bennet noticed Lord Gardiner was reaching for his glass of wine, so he paused.
"Go on," said Lord Gardiner, and began drinking the wine.
"It's about Jane."
Wine sprayed everywhere.
And at this point, the cliffhangers reached a critical mass, and this section was forced to end. I am quite cruel, really.
*All music used is traditional.
"She hates me!" cried Darcalf, sobbing.
"She is hating vhat she thinks you are being," replied Vikheim.
"Yes, I agree with Vikheim," said Bingil. "If you can convince her of your true nature..."
"But how? I cannot guarantee I will ever find her again!"
"So vhy are you not sending her a letter? Ve could pull up a bit down the coast and slip ashore, then pay somevun to deliver it." asked Vikheim.
"But I don't know where she's staying! Or even what the name of that town was!"
Bingil grinned. "But I do!"
Meanwhile, back in the village of Nethermore, things started to go downhill when Mr. Wickham decided to regale them with tales of his life as a soldier.
"...and so, we took that peasant, frogmarched him at sword's point up to Lady Catherine, and threw him in the jail!"
"I do not approve," said Mary. "He who lives by the sword dies by the sword, and one should not judge lest he be judged. Your behaviour was therefore abominable."
"Mary!" screeched Mrs. Bennet. "Mr. Wickham's profession may force him to do things he does not like -"
"Like jailing a person for being unable to pay his taxes? How long has he been in there?" asked Lydia, quite disillusioned about Wickham.
"Oh, about a month. But I assure you, it is the right and proper thing to do. After all, if people are poor, it is merely because they lack effort or cunning, and if they lack both of those, what use are they?"
"More use than you!" cried Lydia.
"Lydia! Have you no respect for my nerves? How can you behave in this way to our guest?"
"Because he is the most horrible person I have ever met!" cried Lydia.
Mr. Wickham, sensing some hostility quickly stood up and cried, "Well! I must be off! Thank you for the lovely evening!" then bowed and left.
Mrs. Bennet's cries for Hill began the moment the door slammed.
"Jane????" sputtered Mr. Gardiner.
"Oh, yes. I met her husband in, of all places, the pub. Amiable chap."
"Thomas! This is no joking matter!"
"My dear Lord Gardiner, as you know, I may be quite sarcastic, but I am not a liar when I joke. By a bizarre combination of circumstances, I actually did meet him in the pub."
"Thomas," replied Lord Gardiner, knowing that argument was futile when Mr. Bennet was in one of his moods, "Please, go away. I can't handle your humour today."
"Well, at least I tried," said Mr. Bennet, then walked off, smiling. Lord Gardiner began to attempt to get all the wine stains off of all his vellum scrolls, cursing under his breath.
However, unfortunately, all was not going to be so nice and tied up. For as soon as Mr. Bennet left Lord Gardiner's room, Elizabeth found him.
"Father! I have been pondering it over, and I must tell you. I was nearly kidnapped by Vikings!"
Mr. Bennet raised his eyebrows. The Viking he had met seemed like a nice enough fellow... "Kidnapped?"
"Whilst you were in the pub, the Vikings arrived! I knew I must fight for my honour, so I ran until I spotted an axe and quickly grabbed it!"
"But Lizzy, as good a fighter as you are, wasn't it dangerous to fight them alone?" asked Mr. Bennet, with real concern for both his daughter and his dear friend Bingil.
"Well, it might have been, if one of them had chased me," muttered Elizabeth under her breath.
Mr. Bennet overheard her and grinned inwardly.
"So," continued Elizabeth, "I decided I must protect the town. I took my axe in had and wandered through it, and found that horrible black-bearded fellow who helped kidnap Jane!"
"And he tried to kidnap you?!"
"Well, no, he tried to convince me to run off with him."
"I take it from the fact you are still here that you turned him down most forcefully!" grinned her father.
"Most forcefully indeed. I hit him over the head with a fallen branch."
Mr. Bennet chuckled. " But why a fallen branch?"
"Well, I had already thrown my axe at him when he had the nerve to propose."
Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes. "Lizzy! Be careful! You could have either killed him or left yourself defenseless."
Lizzy pouted a bit, then saw her father's point. As horrible as he was, she would have felt immensely guilty had she actually killed him. "You are right. I shall be more careful when fighting them off in future."
"I take it he was captured?" asked Mr. Bennet, trying to come up with a plan for freeing his daughter's misguided suitor.
"Oh, no. His brother came over and asked me quite politely whether he could take him back to the ship. I gave him a message to pass on to his brother, and let him go."
"And why," asked Mr. Bennet, finding great amusement in the situation, "did you not fight off his brother as well?"
"Father!"
"It's a valid question," replied her father, his eyes twinkling with merriment.
"Well, I don't know. I just didn't think he was really a threat!" said Elizabeth, confused and angry.
"And so how do you know his brother was?"
"Because he helped kidnap Jane!"
"Well, it would seem that you have an interesting definition of kidnapping, as regards yourself at least..." replied her father, who then grinned, turned quickly out of the corridor they were walking down into the library, and closed the door.
Lizzy was left to her thoughts, which she was not inclined to change.
The Vikings went quietly ashore that night, Darcalf feeling rather uncomfortable without his armour, and sought out a farmhouse. Darcalf had, with Vikheim and Bingil's help written a letter explaining all that had occurred, and had sealed it with some wax and a signet ring he had found on one of his raids, to keep it from prying eyes. Bingil cheerily lead them to the pub of before, the singing having stopped just an hour before as the farmers returned reluctantly to their homes. He knocked on the door. The publican, dressed in a nightgown came to it, grumbling, but smiled upon seeing Bingil.
"Ah! My friend from earlier today! Is there any way I can help you? Here - before you answer that, let me get you all a pint, on the house. Everyone enjoyed that story you told us, it was very well done."
"Who is it, Edwin?" cried a woman from somewhere inside.
"It's that nice chap I was telling you about earlier!" replied the publican.
"Mr. Bennet? But I thought he was staying up with the Lord and Lady?"
"No, not Mr. Bennet, the other nice chap!"
"Oh, yes! Bingley was it?"
"Er, Bingil," replied Bingil.
"So, what brings you here?" asked Edwin's wife, Claire, as she handed around the pints.
"Er, ve vere vondering vhether you vould deliver a letter for us?"
"But of course, presuming it's not too far off?"
"It's to a Miss Elizabeth Bennet, daughter of the Mr. Bennet who was in here earlier?" said Darcalf, who's eyes filled with happiness as he said his love's name.
"Ah, up at the castle! A love letter, is it?"
"Ja!" cried Vikheim. "That is vhat it is being!"
"Ah! Of course!" said Edwin smiling. "By the way, I can't quite place your accent. Where is it from?"
"Norvay," said Vikheim before the other two could stop him. Both paled.
And with that excellent cliffhanger, I bid you, my dear readers, adieu for this chapter! Put the book down now, the revelations must wait until the morrow, until you are thoroughly worried. Mwahaha!
Edwin peered at the three. Vikheim smiled, Darcalf and Bingil looked at him pleadingly. Claire looked on them in fear.
"Right. Norway. Vikings?"
"Ja!" said Vikheim, smiling.
Edwin peered at the three some more.
"Um..." began Darcalf.
"How dare you come here!" cried Edwin.
Bingil's face fell, and he fought back the tears. Darcalf sighed dejectedly. Vikheim, hurt and confused asked, "Vhat did ve do?"
"What did you do????" roared Edwin, "Well, you only go around k-" Edwin noticed at this point that Bingil was very close to breaking down into sobs, and that Darcalf and Vikheim had turned a very pale shade of white. "k...reating havoc? Er... you are Vikings, right?"
"Ja." replied Vikheim, in confusion.
"But...?" Edwin grimaced. "Er...?" He paused, looked at Claire, who looked back at him. "What the bugger were you doing in my pub? And how do three people as obviously non-violent as you manage as Vikings?"
It was an extremely long explanation.
Some of you may already be hearing Wedding Bells between Darcalf and Lizzy, along with Darcalf himself. Unfortunately, it's just tinnitus caused when he was clubbed over the head. For, after the Vikings had left the pub (after Claire and Edwin made them promise to visit again) and had sailed away, Edwin wrote Elizabeth's name on the envelope and took it up to the castle, handing it to one of the friendly guards, who promised to pass it on. He stuck it in his trouser pocket, and forgot about it until that night when he took the trousers off. He then found it, and, pulling the trousers back on, went over to his captain's quarters and gave it to him, explaining he had forgotten to pass it on. The Captain nodded, took the letter, dismissed the soldier, and placed it on his desk to deal with after he had finished some paperwork. A servant came in to see if all was well, and he passed the letter on to him. The servant went to deliver it, but heard gentle snores from inside the room, and so he, in some embarrassment, turned and left. On the way back, he passed one of the maids, who agreed to pass it on to Elizabeth's maid. However, she was asleep, so she instead passed it on to the housekeeper. The housekeeper decided that nothing could be done with it until the morning, and placed it on her bedside table before going to sleep. In the morning, when the staff congregated in the parlour to get their tasks for the day, she saw Elizabeth's maid and remembered the letter, so she asked the young girl if she would go and get it before going in to Lizzy. She agreed, and did indeed quite faithfully deliver it to the lady. Sadly, it was written entirely in runes.
Lizzy, already disposed to think ill of Vikings, was convinced that the letter was a ransom note, threat, or similar. Lord Gardiner agreed with her, but could not figure how it had gotten to her, and began to make some enquiries.
As you might imagine, they were quite unsuccessful.
Back in Nethermore, the plotting farmers were still bickering about their planned revolt.
"Oi dunt think thaat yer Trojan sheep oidea is all thaat good."
"Well, Oi dunt hear yer coming up with anything!"
"Oi still says we should just storm the carstle."
"And Oi say that the soldiers would slaughter us."
They won't have anything clever to say for a while, so let us leave them again.
Over in Norway, the Vikings have just arrived home. However, there are approximately four hours of a variety of activities which a couple, such as Bingil and Jane, who are deeply in love would only be expected to undergo after a two week absence, from those which I can describe (like the dinner over which they said very little but gazed into each other's eyes a great deal) to those which I probably should not describe (which occurred in their bedroom). Darcalf found it rather depressing, considering his own uncertain state.
Finally, wearing even larger smiles than they normally wear, Jane and Bingil returned to the company of the other two.
"Ah, Darcalf, have I told you how extremely happy I am?" asked Bingil.
"Many, many times," replied Darcalf.
"Oh, sorry! Anyway, I haven't told Jane what happened yet -."
"So vhat vere you doing all that time?" asked Vikheim.
Bingil and Jane smiled at each other, and proceeded to become locked into each other's gaze....
Darcalf groaned.
In Sheepside Castle, Lord Gardiner was trying to push forward his plans to rescue Jane. There was a slight problem in that no-one had yet come up with any reasonable way to make the plan work, but he hoped, despite the nagging voice very much at the forefront of his mind, that it could be figured out soon. Especially considering that he had just encouraged four hundred and thirty-seven fishermen, farmers, and miscellaneous peasants to join his navy with the promise of rather good wages that he had already paid two months advance on.
If it were not for his deep love of Jane, he would never have embarked upon such a ill-conceived plan, especially not one designed by Mrs. Bennet.
Elizabeth was determined to do all she could for Jane, including learning to read runes. She secluded herself in the Gardiners' well-stocked library, and began to search out a suitable book. Unfortunately, it was a well-stocked but extremely disorganised library. The Gardiners were avid readers, and were constantly removing books from the shelves, then putting them back in wherever a gap might be. Thus Elizabeth had no way of knowing even whether the book she needed existed in the library until she checked every shelf in turn. She began searching...
"Let's see... Gregory of Monmouth's History of England... no; The Complete Works of King Alfred the Great... no; Beowulf... What is he doing with a tale that glorifies those horrible Vikings?; Auccasin and Nicolette.. no; The Penitent Pilgrim's Guide to Northanger Abbey.. no; Widsith... no; The Dream of the Rood... no; Pride and Prejudice: A lecture on morality by the Venerable Bede... no..."
This will take a long time. Let's return to Norway whilst we wait.
Vikheim and Darcalf waited patiently and exasperatedly (respectfully) for Jane and Bingil to return to reality. Reality, unfortunately, was thrust upon them by Darcalf and Vikheim's berserker cousin, Frej-Valdemar, dashing in, waving his arms wildly. Darcalf calmly picked up a frying pan, and calmly began to try and get behind his cousin when he was noticed and his cousin calmed down.
"That, my dear cousin, will not be necessary. I am, in fact, out of fly agaric mushrooms so I couldn't go into a beserker rage if I wanted. However, Bingil's sisters are on their way here, and I thought it my duty to warn you before I ran off myself!"
Darcalf groaned loudly. Bingil looked embarrassed. Jane kept her eyes directly on her husband, seeing that, as a berserker, Frej-Valdemar tended to go around wearing very few clothes. Vikheim grimaced.
Karin and Lova, Bingil's sisters, were not really the most likable people. It may be admitted that Karin was indeed an accomplished swordswoman, and Darcalf did indeed admire her, until he had gotten over his fascination with her prowess and got to know her. She, however, despite his best attempts to ward her off, continued to believe that Darcalf needed only a little bit more persuasion - for instance, a sword at his throat - to finally propose marriage. Darcalf went to fetch his axe, and get his armour on. Frej-Valdemar, with a promise to come back in two hours after the battle had finished, fled: He had noticed Karin admiring him a few times of late, with a look of hunger in her eyes, and worried that if he was not careful, she might turn to him next.
Bingil had been avoiding his sisters ever since Karin had rushed towards him with an axe after he introduced his wife-to-be, shouting that he was to marry Bjørginhilda, Darcalf's sister. She had tripped over Lova's husband, Hursk, who had drunk a bit too much mead, and fell on her face, but, still, he was convinced that she could use a little bit more time to get used to things before he attempted a reconciliation. He also got a promise from Frej-Valdemar to protect his wife whilst he was away. He didn't think his sister would actually do anything, and told himself that it was just her temper flaring at the surprise, but best to be safe.
With Darcalf's permission, therefore, Bingil and Jane hurried into the private quarters of the house, to seek out Bjørginhilda, Darcalf and Vikheim's sister. She was easily traced by her beautiful singing of a tragic and very bloodthirsty ballad, in which a wife cruelly treated waits for a feast to which all the people who conspired with him to make her marry him, then kills her husband, serves him as the roast, and then slips out and burns the house down. As soon as they knocked on the door, the singing abruptly stopped, and she shyly opened the door a crack to see who it was before opening it to let her friends in.
"...Persuasion: A guide to converting heathens by the Venerable Bede... no; The Fight at Finnesburg... no..."
"Whaat if we all disgoise ourselves as sheep, except one of us who could herd us inter the castle's kitchen -"
"Where we would all be slaughtered by the cook and served for dinner."
"Oh. Didn't think of thaat."
Well! It's becoming quite obvious that not much more is going to happen until Bingil's sisters arrive, but that's the main event in the next chapter. Looks like I have no choice but to end this chapter and leave you to your nicely cliff-hangered misery.
As all of the more cannibalistic of my readers will know, roast farmer is considered quite a delicacy. However, as we saw in the last chapter, the farmers seem oddly unwilling to serve their ladyship in this way. For which we must view them with extreme displeasure, I am sure you will agree. In any case, I believe they have finally settled on a clever plan.
"So, arfter we dig the tunnel inter the carstle, we slip in there by noight, take out the haandkerchiefs and sticks and begin morris dancing. When the soldiers come, we tell them thaat we waant ter perform fer Lady Cartherine. We wait fer her to come, then bash her head with the sticks."
"Dunt yer think they'll arsk whaat we're doing there?"
"We'd be morris dancin'."
"Arfter dark without Lady Cartherine's permission. Oi dunt loike daark rat-infested cells."
However, I could be wrong.
The meadhall was filled with a tense silence as Darcalf grimly awaited the battle to come. This was shattered by Vikheim, who began to ask Darcalf when he thought they'd be sailing again. Darcalf glared at him, and he fell silent. Then, from nearby, they heard Karin's warcry...
"Right, Darcy! You've concealed your feelings long enough! You will marry me!"
The doors crashed open, and Karin leapt in, did a somersault in the air, and hit her head on a beam. She fell to the ground, stunned. Hursk followed after, and ran to the mead table, and began happily eating and drinking... Darcalf's grim face allowed himself a smile - then Lova entered, rushing at him with a warhammer, and Karin recovered and stood to her feet, and the battle commenced!
Darcalf grabbed a halberd, and attempted to keep her at a distance, as one would with Karin. Then he saw something off to the side - Lova! He swung his halberd quickly around, and the long pole of the halberd collided into Vikheim's stomach as he had been running to block Lova. He fell to the ground, winded. The force of Vikheim's running and Darcalf's swing caused the halberd to break, and the head went flying off at Lova's head. She fell to the ground, and it embedded itself in the table next to Hursk (who found it very convenient for slicing his food throughout the rest of the battle).
Karin ran up to Darcalf, attempting to sieze the oppurtunity. He dropped the pole, and quickly drew his axe, and blocked the blows of her sword. Lova leapt from the ground and ran towards him to assit her sister, but fell over Vikheim. Darcalf fought Karin back, with many a swing, and many a slice, and many a leap over her sword. Lova got up to help, but Vikheim grabbed her leg and pulled her back down. Darcalf managed to pin Karin against the doorway, and would soon have had her - had the door not burst open as Hvitserk, priest of Thor, dashed in.
"Right, then! Where's this wedding I'm presiding over?" asked the intellegent and clean-shaven priest. (He wasn't really a very good priest of Thor. He was very non-violent and good-natured as well)
"Hvitserk!" cried Caroline, gritting her teeth, "I told you to come later. I haven't defeated him yet!" She then parried three swings of Darcalf's axe and her sword clanged against his shield on the return strike.
"Oh, right. I'll just wait over here, then, shall I?" Hvitserk wandered over, dodged around the grappling Lova and Vikheim, and quietly sipped some mead next to Hursk, who was quaffing it quite loudly. Lova clawed at Vikheims eyes, but he successfully pushed her away, and leapt to his feet. She grabbed her dagger and stabbed at him, he dodged, and she sprang to her feet and the two reentered combat.
Darcalf dodged away, and grabbed a spear from the wall, and threw it at her. She rolled out of the way, and it clanged into Lova's helmet, knocking her out, and causing her to fall into Vikheim, who hit his head on the ground and was similarly knocked out. Caroline turned to look, and he swept the sword out of her hands. She fell back to near the mead table, drew out a crossbow and aimed it at his heart. "I said that it's time you marry me! Hvitserk, I'm ready!"
The sweat began to pour down Darcalf's brow.
"The Fenian Cycle... no; Mr. Woodhouse's Guide to Gourmet Cookery... no; The Mabinogion... no; The Complete Guide to Runes... no... Wait! Yes!"
Elizabeth took down the book, and opened it up. "Oh. Volume II... Right...." - She here let out a small sigh - "Farmer Giles' Guide to Good Farming... no..."
Sometimes, as an author, one must be kind on their readers, and let them know that everything will be alright. This is not one of those times. Please put down the book and wait in horrible, agonising suspense for at least three hours. Thank you.
Now that you, my dear reader, have learned Darcalf's (and, of course, Vikheim's) surname, you can see why it has carefully been avoided hitherto. However, whilst we are on the subject, perhaps I should mention the other three surnames. For one: Bingil Baldursson, named because the gentle temper of most of his family seemed to merit a comparison to the most gentle and beloved of gods. (This is usually corrupted to Bastardsson when referring to Karin.). We also have Hursk and Lova Meadslaughterer, named for obvious reasons - although it should be pointed out that Hursk also owns one of the largest mead-breweries in all Norway, explaining the existance of a Lova Meadslaughrerer. Finally, we have Frej-Valdemar Metlisson, after his famous father, Metlik the Red. Our dear priest, Hvitserk Sheepsson (the son of a local shepherd) we may ignore.
Oh, yes, there was some sort of cliffhanger, wasn't there? Yes! Yes indeed! Let us quickly move to resolve it! For surely by now the farmers will have some sensible plan....
"Well, Oi reckons we could just use them daft tunnels ter undermine the walls."
"Oi reckon that'd work! But how would we make sure they dunt collarpse on us?"
"Er... whaat about that plan with the sheep?"
Well, they're getting there, anyway... Oh, the other cliffhanger? Right, sorry.
"The Best of Geoffrey of Monmouth... no; Sir Gawain and the Green Knight... I always wanted to read that. Well, perhaps a short break is in order...."
"No!!!" shouted the readers, but, sadly, were not in the same room.
Oh, that cliffhanger. Right.
Hvitserk Sheepsson stood up, moved over by the door, and began to intone. "Defeated beloved, we are gathered here today to join Darcalf Hairybritches and Karin Bastardsson -"
"Karin Baldursson!"
"Oh, terribly sorry. Karin... Baldur?"
"It's named after my brother, who knows not the noble ways of Thor. Go on, let's get this over with before he awakes."
"Right. ...Karin Baldursson in holy matrimony. Marriage is a state not to be entered into lightly, but with either great love, or a sword at your throat...." Hvitserk paused a moment, thinking. "I suppose that a crossbow aimed at one's heart is sufficient, though I rather expected more of you. - The usual duties of the man in the latter case - which seems more appropriate, so I shall skip the alternative - are these: To be at sea at least six months of any year in order to escape your wife, to hate and despise her, to fight with her constantly, and to drink yourself into oblivion. If anyone here knows of any reason why these two should not be wed, rescue him now, or be hacked to pieces by him later." At this point, the mead got to be too much for Hursk, and he collapsed backwards, fell into Caroline, and her crossbow fired as she fell, burying her shot deeply into the wall. "Very well. There's now a one month period before you may try again. Take care!" And with that he collected up his things and wandered off. Caroline fumed, kicked Hursk soundly in the ribs, and stormed off, vowing that next time, he would stay at home. Lova soon regained consciousness, Darcalf explained what happened with great relish, she grumbled and helped her husband stagger off, cursing at him endearingly.
About ten minutes later, Vikheim awoke, saw Darcalf smiling, smiled back, and promptly lost consciousness again. However, Bingil was soon fetched, and he and Darcalf were just barely able to lift Vikheim's large and rotund form and get him to a bed.
Of course, it was not long after that that Frej-Valdemar arrived. He tiptoed through the chaos of the mead-hall, looking around nervously for any signs of Bingil's sisters. He heard Darcalf's cheery voice come from the back rooms, and he headed there, relaxing.
"So! You've managed to escape her, eh old chap?"
"Yes. Although it came extremely close at one point. But Hursk saved me."
"Hursk! That old drunk? How could he..." asked Bingil, chortling.
"Let's just say that it was completely unintentional. He fell backwards into her."
Bingil and Frej-Valdemar laughed. Jane (for could one doubt that she would not have come to join her husband?) smiled broadly.
"Oh, very well. Let's just sail over there and hope we get lucky," cried Lord Gardiner after another futile day of planning with his military advisors (who had never engaged in a military campaign before now, and had a suspicious smell of manure rising from them). They nodded, as it was the best plan hitherto (the Nethermore farmers are not the only ones who have been planning futilely) and plans were made to prepare to sail next week. They would be met with surprising levels of success.
Few people realise that Thor is not just god of battles and thunder, but also of peasants. Indeed, in Habard's Song, one of Odin's jibes against poor Thor is that, whilst Odin deals with nobles, Thor has only peasants. It then continues with implications that Thor is gay (which annoy him greatly, as you might imagine) followed by saying (unfairly) that his wife is unfaithful. Isn't it good to know that even in the 8th century intelligent debate often degenerated into crudity?.
In most of his adventures, Thor is joined by Thialfi, son of Egil. (Egil Skalla-Grimsson is a famous poet who often proved his skill in battle as well. For instance, when he was seven a boy named Grim poked fun at him. So he killed him with an axe. This was considered completely normal. However, Thialfi's father was not a great poet who went around killing people, but was just your average peasant.) Thialfi, despite disobeying the direct orders of several gods - who were sleeping in the other room at the time - in order to become enthralled to Thor, is reasonably intellegent, and often comes up with a cunning plan to help Thor in battle.
Something that our peasants, who appear to be taking more after Thor himself, have yet to do.
"Large wooden sheep?"
"Thaat's thaat daft Trojan sheep oidea again. She'd praabably haave it chopped up fer firewood, with us in it, because it wouldn't be graand enough fer Rosings carstle."
"Oi reckons yer roight.... Whaat about a Trojan chimney-piece?"
"Whaat's a chimney piece?"
"Arsk Collins. He's always jabberin' about them."
"Yer reckon we could fit insoide one?"
"Depends on the soize. But... probably naat."
"Bugger!"
Well, it's a start....
Lizzy put down Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, having enjoyed it immensely, and continued her search. "Pearl... no; Lady Susan's Guide to Respectable Romance... no; The Complete Guide to Runes Volume I. Ah! Here we go!
"Chapter One: The Runic Alphabet...." Lizzy sighed, and set to work.
A week of time and squabbling peasants has now passed, although, of course, the peasants have spent some time at home during that time, and tending their livestock, and so on. Lizzy is very slowly grasping the basics of runes, although, sadly, she is discovering that learning a language is not as easy as she hoped, and has just reached Chapter Two: Declining Nouns, in which she was informed that in Norse, the last syllable of a noun determines its meaning in the sentence, and a lot f other things that will only confuse you as much as they confused her. Of course, as these Vikings obviously speak fluent English, she probably could have stopped after she learned the alphabet. But she doesn't know that.
Runes were created by Odin, Thor's father, at great sacrifice. He hung from Yggdrasil for nine nights, wounded by his own spear, pondering deeply until they came to him. I believe Lizzy would by far prefer that option at this point, but as a cruel author I will keep her to the task at hand. Of course, for some people, with appropriate tutors, learning is not such a chore....
Bingil beamed at his wife. "Well done! That's the third and final ætt memorised! Let's see... how many kisses do I owe you now? Well... we'll figure it out later. That way you just might have to pay me some back!" Bingil grinned a bit wider. Jane looked at him. A few subtle glances passed between them, then Bingil grinned even more broadly, swept her into his (rather hairy) arms and hurried over to the bedroom.
In Norway, Thor is ranked higher than Odin in precedence, and as this tale is partially set in Norway, we must also give him precedence here. Perhaps a brief physical description is in order: A flame-like red beard sticks out from his face in all directions, in an especially fluffy manner. His muscles are large, and covered with red fur, and he is usually found wearing only breeches and boots. Which is also a very good description of Frej-Valdemar, our berserker...
"Er Darcalf..." said the fellow in question. "Would it be alright if I came on the next raid - Since I'm not needed to protect Jane, and, well... now that you're unavailable, I suspect Karin's going to try for me..." He nervously shuffled his rather large boots.
Darcalf shuddered "If I may protect you from such a fate, you are most welcome to come. Although I must attempt to win someone's love whilst we're there..."
"Well, that will just make it all the more entertaining!"
Darcalf glowered at him.
There are many ways to build ships. Toenails of the dead is one of the more unusual ones, yet Hel, goddess of the underworld, is currently in the process of building one from that material - although, provided the families of the dead clip the dead's toenails before burying them, sending them off to sea in a flaming longship, or the other method of choice, this should take a very long time. At Ragnarok, it shall be launched, with Loki and the fire giants of Muspellheim to sail on Asgard. At which time Thor shall battle Jørmungandr, the Midgaard-serpent, and although he shall defeat him, he himself shall succumb to the poison of the foul beast.
This wouldn't have been a problem if it weren't for the actions of Hymir many years before, during Thor's first battle with the beast. The gods of Asgard had been invited to Hlesey, the palace of Ægir, god of the sea, but upon quizzing him learned that his brewing kettle was rather small. As you can imagine, this horrified the gods, and Thor and his brother Tyr set out to fix this, by acquiring that of the frost giant Hymir.
By one of those coincidences so common in these sorts of tales, Tyr's mother happened to now be Hymir's wife. His 900-headed grandmother lived with them as well. Quite. Anyway, after the two women had hid the gods under a comparatively small cauldron, Hymir returned home. His glare when told he had guests was fully capable of killing, indeed, had killed many people in the past, although, as they were concealed, it merely broke a rafter and sent eight cauldrons clanging to the ground, seven of which broke; after which, the gods revealed themselves, and Hymir grudgingly invited them to dinner. Thor, as is his wont, ate up nearly all the food, horrifying Hymir. He stated they would go fishing the next day, and told Thor to get his own bait.
Thor indeed did get his own bait. The head of Hymir's best ox. Hymir grumbled quite loudly over that, but still sailed out into the deep sea, in an attempt to catch some whales. Thor pushed the boat out even father, poor Hymir became a bit nervous, but showed it by grumbling, and cast his line in. Thor cast his line in. Thor pulled up the Jørmungandr, who had temporarily stopped eating its own tail to eat the tasty ox-head. Thor looked at the beast. The beast looked at him, and bared it's teeth. Thor raised Mjølnir for a killer blow. Hymir cut the line. Thor fumed and threw him overboard, and by the time he swam back, Thor had taken his last large cauldron. It can only be hoped that Hymir's wife, who was exceedingly beautiful and kind, managed to calm him somewhat.
However, not all fishing expeditions require such large ones that got away to be noteworthy. For instance, a large fleet of fishing vessels is currently under sail towards Norway...
Well, actually, perhaps large is a bit of an overstatement. After all, four hundred and thirty-seven people do not truly make a huge army, and Mr. Gardiner, after telling them the plan, and describing the very likely hazards of large, axe-wielding Vikings, offered them the opportunity to leave the navy. And had already paid them up to that day. There are now three ships, with approximately ten people in each, one lead by Mr. Bennet, one lead by Lord Gardiner, and one lead by Phillip Codswallop, a rather grizzled old fisherman. It had been decided to stop off at one rather small village, ask around, try to arrange to ransom Jane, and if any force was used, surrender, tell them where Sheepside was and use the large ransom fund Lady Gardiner was in charge of to secure your release, or, if all went well, to return home.
Of course this is an exceedingly daft plan. But well worthy of a Viking Saga, should it miraculously succeed....