Kalaey Part 1: Trading Blows
A fine misty rain ran along the island of Kalaey on the western coast of Norway. The tips of the mountains were like spears pointing up into the sky. But one thing was clear that night. Men would be found at the drinking hall. It always started out well, they sat exchanging stories, debating and reciting the old poems and sagas. The drinking hall was a place where men could forget their daily troubles. Once the ale started flowing some folk saw things in a different light. A small band of traders had moored into the harbour earlier that day, and naturally made their way to the drinking hall. There were eight of them, all middle aged except two older men around fifty. It was not long before the ale was flowing and their mood turned bawdy. They were loud and singing songs as men do. The local men gave them scowling looks and mumbled amongst themselves, but did nothing about it.
It is now that I come to a man who could always been found in the drinking hall. His name is Skari Thorvaldsson. He was 40 years of age, of average height and stocky build. He had long flowing golden hair, small slitty blue eyes, a small round nose and a broad chin. A fiery Viking in his past, the locals of Kalaey kept a wide berth when he was drinking. Skari was drinking with his close friend Grimsi. Grimsi was also of average height but of a chubby build. He had curly brown hair and a brown beard. He was of a calm nature and had big blue kind eyes. A wise man as he got older. They too were annoyed at the newcomers, but carried on drinking and joking amongst themselves. Skari took a swig of his ale when he saw one of the traders grab a young servant girl, causing her to trip and fall over. They all began laughing.
“Scoundrels!” He said to himself looking over to the band of traders. Grimsi looked into his eyes and there was nothing there, no feeling or emotion. Grimsi had been in this situation many times before.
“Skari my broth..” Grimsi was too late.
Skari stood up and tripped over the leg of his stool causing his ale bowl to be thrown to the ground. The other men in the hall looked at each other knowing what was about to happen but dared not stop it. He walked over to the group of ragged looking traders.
“I am Skari Thorvaldsson and I offer an Einvigi to the toughest man of you turds”. In that moment, surprisingly, the smallest of the traders stepped forward.
“Then thou must mean me”. He was stocky like Skari. He had dark brown hair and eyes with a short beard that was plaited. He seemed to be a man of some wealth as he had a golden cloak broach on his dark blue cloak and several arm rings on each arm. The opponents were squaring up to each other, getting right up into each other’s face and trading insults. One of the older traders who had a weather beaten face shouted “Kill that swine head Ulfr!”
The room was deadly silent as men just watched with anticipation and excitement of what would happen next. A voice from the back of the hall shouted “Come now men! Let us not fight each other as it robs us of our greatest folk!”
The trader, Ulfr, shouted back “Hold thine mouth, dugga!*”
At that moment Skari grabbed Ulfr and began landing blows to his head. He caught Ulfr unaware. Ulfr stepped to the side slightly and gave Skari an uppercut. But it was to no avail as it was Skari who struck first and had the momentum; he landed a sweet punch on the temple. Ulfr fell down like a tree in a storm.
The other traders were shocked that their leader in arms had fallen so easily. The older man who had shouted earlier came forward to hit Skari but he was too weak. They locked hands in a small scuffle before Skari threw him down to the side. Ulfr was on his knees, not knowing what had happened, with battle sweat pouring from his nose. The tallest man of the traders then stepped forward to confront Skari but at this point many stepped in to stop the fight turning into a brawl. Skari stared at the tall man, then at the group of traders and shouted “I am the feeder of ravens! Remember this Níðingar!*” Grimsi then pulled Skari away. They supped up their ale and started walking out of the hall. Skari looked back to the tall trader. They held their stare with each other both knowing it would not be the last time they would meet.
Dugga – Useless or worthless person. Could also mean coward.
Níðingr – The worst insult one could say to someone, coward, a vile despicable person.
Capital Ð, small ð – Pronounced “eth” and said like the “th” in English words such as “With” and “Bath”.
