An odd visit at the harbor

[Tyrun the Norseman]

Oh! I almost forgot...

This still makes me laugh:


users.wolfcrews.com/toys/vikings/

[Dream Loxley]

(( ;D Thats so clever.....I already posted the lyrics! Good taste we have in music . The scene simply lends itself doesn't it ..and a super post as always. ))

[Sinold Bragasson]

Aaah sad, I cannot see the pic or whatever is on that page here from work. Will have to wait till I get back home! ;D

[Thorgrimm Halfdane]

......This entry has been removed as it didn't seem to fit properly into Tyrun's storyline...... I may repost it as a seperate thread .... T.

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(PS:I really enjoyed that little music clip and I will be passing it on the the members of the Vlachernai Garrison here in Melbourne. I reckon they will all get a kick out of it ) T.

[Tyrun the Norseman]

By now, the Lady Hana had departed from Windstorm Harbor, for her crew had important business at Port Thunder. Of course, to further aggravate the Franks, the pseudo-vikings aboard sang a loud Norse battle-song as they rowed out, their voices ringing out deep and strong across the waves.

((I do not know Old Norse, but an approximate translation of the verse is as follows: ))

We come from the land of the ice and snow,
From the midnight sun where the hot springs blow.
The hammer of the gods will drive our ships to new lands,
To fight the horde, singing and crying: Valhalla, I am coming!

On we sweep, with threshing oar,
Our only goal will be the western shore!

((Heh heh))

On her way outbound, The Lady Hana had stopped in at the cove, to be boarded by Tyrun for an inspection, and a thorough questioning of the crew regarding their short stay at the harbor. He took a few moments to stride about his old ship; his first baby (as it were); grinning fondly at every strake and rope, which were as familiar to him as his own hands.

...And now, the sky was reddening as the sun sank behind the horizon. Tyrun was in the cabin of The Zephyr, sitting huddled over the table next to the boy Dasid, whose skinny legs dangled from the edge of his sea-chair. The chamber was slightly musty (as dampness is unavoidable on a sea-vessel), yet clean and tidy. The stern-windows were open, letting in a refreshing evening breeze, and the last rays of the day cast a soothing glow about the cabin. The ledge beneath the windows was cluttered with the mementos of Tyrun's career...odd knick-knacks, foreign scupltures...among them, a liquor decanter fashioned like the globe of the Earth (he liked telling people he was a worldly drunk, when drinking whiskey from this bottle), and a small model of a dragonship (which Tyrun had taken to referring to as "Little Hana," much to the chagrin of the no-nonsense Harl Grimface).

Tyrun nudged Dasid, who was staring distractedly at these fascinating objects. "Pay attention! Like I was saying, These letters go together, and the sounds blend to form a word. C, A, T...cuh-ahhh-tuh. Cat. Here, you write it down now."

Dasid forced his attention back to the wooden tablet before him. It was covered with a layer of wax, which was to be inscribed with a wooden stylus, and could be smudged clear when the lesson was done. His own tablet already had the Latin alphabet painstakingly (if somewhat messily) etched upon it, as well as a few simple words Tyrun had shown him. He sighed and looked longingly out the window, before taking up his stylus again.

Tyrun had decided to spend at least two hours every evening teaching the boy both letters and numbers, assuring Dasid that he required such knowledge in order to become a famous sea-captain. The lad had insisted that not all captains could read and write. This might be true, Tyrun admitted, but if these illiterate captains were famous for anything, it was only for being monumentally stupid, and easy to swindle when conducting trade. This was not exactly true, but Tyrun remembered how his own mind worked when he was a little boy, and he knew this argument would persuade Dasid.

The young fellow was naturally bright, and tenacious as a bulldog when facing a challenge, and so the lessons went rather well. Of course, Dasid would much rather have been out running around the deck, or climbing up and down the rigging (for Tyrun had decreed that the boy's evenings were to be free of toil, and that he could have the run of the ship). The Norseman really did pity him in this, but he was bound and determined to instill patience and discipline in his young employee. He himself had a difficult time maintaining interest when doing book-work, and he didn't want Dasid to grow up with the same weakness.

His reverie was interrupted by a peevish question. "Why does "A" have two different sounds? Here, it makes an "ah"...in "cat." But here, it sounds like "ay"...in "plate!" Who invented this dumb alphabet, anyway?"

"Hell if I know," Tyrun shrugged. "Some Roman, I guess...and probably smarter than the both of us combined." He pointed a finger at his pupil. "So don't dismiss him too quick! Eh, tis just one of these things you'll hafta learn as you go. But you're far younger than I was when I learned, so I reckon you'll do fine." This seemed to encourage Dasid, and Tyrun continued. "Okay, now let's string some of these words together in a sentence..."The cat played with a ball..."

...And so it went, as the sky's red turned to violet, and the sun settled away.

[Dasid]

*He was dreaming, dreaming of flying from rope to rope and pulling the pants down on those mean old Franks. Ooooh he would show them.
Tyruns voice soon stirred him out of his day dream. Dasid!....that was enough for the boys attention to turn back to those horrible letters which some Roman had made long ago. A grumble ran by the boys lips*

Romans gots too much time if you ask me. If you ask me that Roman died of boredom with his aaaaaahhhhhs and ayyyyyyyyyyyyes....and ooooohs....

*Again Tyrun made him think of what it would be to be a Captain.*

Just likes you?

*those bigs eyes met Tyruns. It was plain to see the admiration this boy held for the Captain. He was his hero. The man he wanted to be like when he grew bigger!. He was already a man an when he got some length in him maybe others will call him a man.
Dasid puffed out his chest then sighed as he concentrated on those letters*

Paaaaaaaaah Ta

*he looked up to see if Tyrun was watching him, a grudgin smile appeared*

I suppose these letters are alright if you like them?

*keen eyes watched every reaction the man made*

Saaaaaaaaaah ta

*his eyes began to wander a little*

I could sneak up on the Franks and soften them up for ya Captain Tyrun

*his feet figited and he clenched his now rounded fists into two balls of bravado. *

I'd give them a left

* one fist went flying*

...and a right,

*then the other*

...and then duck between their legs and cover their eyes for ye ta punch.

*he knew that look, he could see that Tyrun was not wanton to encourage his thoughts*

awwwww...

*looking at his letters again he grumbled*

Betcha the Franks don't worry 'bout letters. But then I 'ears they got silky undie wear cos theys got bottoms as soft as fur. maybe theys gots furry bottoms

*he tried not to laugh at the thought but a boys imagination can be vivid and the idea of men with furry bottoms like fur made him stifle a laugh then laugh opening. That cheeky grin came as he whispered*

want me ta find out Captains. Its easy for me to sneak in camps, men don't notice men like me abouts da place. I can do it, really I can!

[Tyrun the Norseman]

((I must begin this post with an apology. I have been jumping around on the message board lately. I hope you will scan the following threads...

Our present thread ("An odd visit") is continued in this thread ("The Signal is Given")...

windstormcastle.proboards23.com/index.cgi?board=general&action=display&thread=1090478238

...for exactly one post, before moving on to this thread ("We Have Arrived")...

windstormcastle.proboards23.com/index.cgi?board=general&action=display&thread=1090646477

...Sorry for making this such a goose-chase.))

............................................................................

Tyrun had never attempted to be a role model to anybody before. Truth be told, he had no intention of allowing himself to be trapped into such a position. Too much hassle, he had figured. Nevertheless, the way Dasid hung on his every word was both flattering and amusing.

In any case, Tyrun had no intention of letting it get too far. No, he would urge Dasid to be his own man, and find his own strengths. Respect was fine, but hero-worship was altogether out of the question.

The captain patiently answered Dasid's questions as they worked. "Just like me? I foresee that you can be an even greater sea-captain than I." Tyrun nodded solemnly. "Just as long as you eat all the crap- errr...FOOD, that is, that Torla puts in front of you (actually, Mister Bloodaxe's cooking, while somewhat vile of flavor, was both filling and nourishing...a good diet on which a young boy could grow up tall and strong), learn to work hard, and pay attention when somebody's trying to drum some knowledge into that thick skull a' yours!" Tyrun smiled warmly as he tapped the boy's forehead. "If you stay outta trouble, then one day, I might be working for you!"

To make the lesson a little more interesting, Tyrun would etch a simple image, and tell Dasid to write out the name of the object. Then, he told the lad that he could draw any picture he liked, as long as he could spell out what it was. Dasid promptly drew a crude image of a human foot (with only four toes) attached to a lower leg. He gave the captain an ornery grin, before spelling out the word "ankle." Trying not to laugh, the Norseman gave him a light cuff on the back of the head, and told him to keep his mind out of the gutter. Then, to get even for that bit of sass, he etched an image of a thoroughly clownish fellow, complete with missing teeth, crossed eyes, and huge ears...next to which he spelled "Dasid." They both laughed, and the lesson continued...

"Hmm, yes," Tyrun spoke thoughtfully, in answer to yet another question. "These letters make a lot of difference. Trust me, a man's thinking can take on a whole new level, when he can jot his thoughts down on a parchment. As for numbers...how high can you count? With fingers and toes...twenty, although I can teach you to count to 99, with just your fingers. In any case, you'll need more than just counting, if you wanna become a big-shooter like me!" He nodded once, with meaning. "I deal in several thousands, by god! You think I'm so bloody wealthy, just because of my good looks?"

Dasid looked up at his captain's weatherbeaten face, with the gap between the two front teeth when he smiled...and decided to reserve comment on that particular topic.

Tyrun had the boy etch-out the alphabet one more time, before starting on a few of the tougher words. He explained the entire "I before E" rule, with a disclaimer that the English language must have been designed by lunatics, to explain all the odd rules and inconsistencies. Then, nodding, he said, "When you can recite the Latin alphabet forwards and back, I shall teach you the old runes. Those are the letters of the old vikings...that they inscribe on their rune-stones, and that the greatest heroic epics are written in. Tis the glyph of heroes. Not only that, but they is designed to be etched right into steel, and not just on some flimsy parchment!" This seemed to appease the lad, and so they continued...until Dasid mentioned that he could infiltrate the Franks' camp. At this, Tyrun pointed a finger right at the boy's face, and spoke in a firm tone.

"I don't want you goin' near them bastiches, you hear? If they capture you, they'll haul you off to Paris, and force you to learn dancing, poetry, and how to kiss girls! Then where will you be? Wearing frilly underwears, and talking like some damned ponce...that's where! Besides..I need you on The Zephyr. You're here to become a sailor, and if that ain't enough, then by god, you can give me your two months' notice, collect your last pay, and go find some spy or stealth-master to teach you." He scowled and shook his head. "Tis up to you...the most famous sailor in the world...or some renegade who's liable to wind up dead and forgotten."

Tyrun then looked out at the reddening sky. "Hmmm...lesson's over. Tommorow, we'll work on our numbers. Here..." Tyrun reached over and picked up a brass astrolabe that Dasid had been eyeing. "Fiddle with this, if you like." The captain hoped that the lad would become familiar with all the moving parts on the device, as he would likely be using one to navigate, some day. Then, he turned toward the cabin door as two figures emerged.

"Ah, look...Tis Harl Grimface and Mister Bloodaxe, come to join us! Sit in, Dasid, and you might hear some grand tales of life upon the ocean."

[Dasid]

dancin!
You could have knocked him with a feather*

KISSIN Girls! EWWWWWWWWWWW!

*he wrinkled his nose at this and pulled back till mightly did he clatter on the floor*

Ewwwwwwww!, they'll not get me Captain I's you cabin boy, not some furry bottomed Frank!....

*the idea of adventure sneaking about the camp ran from his mind and notions of a big Dasid beside Tyrun ran in his mind*

Yous the greatest Captain. I no want to go to dance with girls!

*wrinkling his nose again*

ewwwwww!, I stays with you Captain Tyrun..*that small chest filled out with youthful pride as he handled the Captains precious astrolabe(yes he learned the name, though he called it the astrolobe.). The young features concentrated on the rudimentary workings of the contraption. Small hands carefully pushed the lever back and forth.

He looked up when the Captain spoke and grinned happily as the Captain spoke of telling tales with the others. He loved the old stories though he was sure that they left a lot of it out as sometimes they would stop mid sentance, look to Dasid and laughingly say that thats a story for another time. How he longed for those times for now.

The runes too intrigued him, imagine all those scratches meant something. Then again he did not really care what those letters Captain Tyrun thaught him when he started out.
To be a Captain and to tweak those Franks noses three times a week. Now that would be a fine thing!*

(hey its all good, thought I would enliven the lad for a night *SS*)

[Tyrun the Norseman]

Tyrun was compelled to say two things, which he felt were extremely important...

When Dasid was spitting in disgust about kissing girls, Tyrun leaned in close and spoke in a solemn tone. "One day, you might want to kiss a girl...some of 'em are rather fetching, after all. But, you don't hafta embrace 'em, if you don't wanna...and, "at this he took Dasid's arm in a firm grip, to meet his gaze," If they don't wanna embrace YOU, then let 'em be. Some things ain't meant to be taken by force."

"And as for this "cabin-boy" nonsense. Nah...you ain't a "cabin-boy"...you're a crew-MAN!" Tyrun nodded. "This ain't any navy-ship, and you work harder than any BOY that they have!"

And then, he left Dasid to toy with the astrolobe, as he watched the young fellow, pondering his future...

((But...will Das stay onboard for the big battle? Huh? Will he?))

[Dasid]

*he wrinkled his nose at the thought and blessed himself as he had seen Lady Edfeil do when shes heard somethings that just wer'nt right*

you don'ts hafta worries Captain. I ain'ts no ankle chaser and I don't evers wants ta be. I'm a crew man!

*There was pride in his voice. Imagine missing out on all the important stuff cos a girls showing her ankles. He thought it would be foolish indeed. A smile gleaned the serious talk about womin and he used the astralabe. The child was with his toy and all talk of women and kissin' left his mind*

(can you imagine a young boy avoiding it?)