In Search of Helgafjell

Chapter Two Farmers and Farmers Alike

I am answered almost instantly. A young man – not much more than a boy – stands at the door. I’d think he is around six years younger than me, at sixteen. Like me, he has blue eyes but his are deeper with a hint of green, rather like a shallow sea in autumn time. His hair is also darker; being not fair as mine is but a reddish brown. He is tall, evidently well fed in infancy, with a muscular build and though we both have pale skin, his shows the effects of a warmer climate as his face and forearms have a tinge of tan. Despite his height and obvious strength, there is friendliness about him I instantly take to. The warmth of his smile only adds to this.

This inviting smile is clearly an indication he wishes me to speak first. I clear my throat slightly before speaking.                                                                                                                                                                   “I am Foss son of Egil the farmer and a child of Iceland. I am lost on my travels and have no memory of where I am or how I came to be here. I am a horseman but no warrior and I worship the gods of Odin and Thor” At the last comment I un-tuck the pendant from beneath my clothes to show the man an emblem of a horse on a chord round my neck.

The man nods and replies.                                                                                                                                                    “I am Olaf son of Olaf and Rhona a daughter of Ireland, named for my father. I too worship the gods of Odin and Thor” He produces are pendant of Thor’s hammer covered in twisting decoration that my mind calls ‘Celtic’. “Come in a rest with us a while”

Olaf’s house is warm and smoky and full of life. The source of the first two being a fire, crackling happily in the hearth, a large pot suspended over it. Around this sit a collection of figures. A woman – very young but wearied – stirs the bubbling mixture and a youthful one-legged man is wrapped around her affectionately. Another boy, just younger than Olaf, lies on his side next to the woman, snapping twigs and throwing bits into the fire, absently. On his other side a girl, a beautiful girl, older than the rest, is knelt with a child on her knees. My eyes linger on her a little longer than the others...All are silent; listening intently to a woman, aged beyond her years, I guess is their mother. She sits on a log, facing them, deep in a story.

Every face turns to me as I’m led in. I catch the gaze of the girl and her sapphire eyes trace my features. A smile automatically appears on my lips. Olaf claps a hand on my back, waking me from my trance.  

“This is Foss. He is a farmer’s son from Iceland”

I merely shift awkwardly at the introduction. Olaf continues.

“Foss, this is my mother Rhona,” pointing to the story telling woman “My brothers, Laegh, the younger one, and Reilly” He indicates the small child and the boy on his side. “Here also is my sister Tululla with her betrothed, Rolf” These are the girl and the one-legged man.   “And finally...”

“I’m Lara” The girl cuts in. Lara passes Laegh to Reilly and gets up. “I’ll get you some food Foss. You must be hungry”

“Oh well...yes...err thank you...” Well that won’t impress her, Foss.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Olaf exchange grins with Tululla and Rolf. Lara hands me a bowl of broth.  I manage to force out a “Thank you”, going to accept the bowl with two hands when Lara pushes it into my right and takes my left. This catches me off guard and it must show in my face as Lara laughs at me.