Astas Horae

Hearken! Give ear, givers of rings! Silence for the spell of words! I am Bjorn, and the mead of poetry stirs within me. I sing not of kings, but of the Kin of Erik, in the days when the Dane-King Harald bit the gold of the south and the North-way ran red with strife.

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I. The Fire-Drake Awakes
On the slopes of Priory Hill, the timber houses slept. There dwelt Erik Red-Hand and his brood: Leif the stout, Magnus the sharp, and Gyda, whose hair was the gold-tribute of the sun. With them walked Asta, the foster-child, with eyes like a hawk.

Then came the Night-Walkers. From the Purple Peaks, the Painted-Celts crept—men with skin like frozen rivers, etched in blue spite. They brought the Roof-Bane—the fire. Torches drank the thatch. Erik's house became a Dragon of Flame, roaring in the dark.

Through the high-hole, Leif and Magnus lowered young Asta into the Earth-Sorrow (the dark), but the Iron-Clad Celts seized Gyda. They bore her away to the high crags, leaving only ash and the wind's weeping.

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II. The Path of the Fur and Feather

The gods do not sleep when the hearth-stone grows cold. Three remained: Leif, Magnus, and Asta. Yet they did not walk alone.

The Night-Flyers (owls) called the way. The High-Headers (deer) stepped softly beside them, their hooves finding the hidden root. Leather-Wings (bats) shrieked as the foe-men’s steel clattered nearby. Through the Thirst of the Thicket, the beasts led them to a hall of stone, guarded by the Sky-Princes (eagles).

For two suns, they whetted the Leavings of the Hammer (swords). On the third, the Silver-Seekers (salmon) flickered in the stream, guiding their hide-boat. River-Dogs (otters) showed the throat of the rapids. The Spear-Birds (gannets) screamed the path over the salt-surge, and the Wave-Vanners (dolphins) took the hemp-line in their teeth, pulling the wood-horse across the whale-road to the Western Isles.

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III. The Seax-Song and the Storm
They crept into the high hall of the Celt-Chief. Magnus spoke with the Corpse-Choose (ravens), learning the watchman’s stride.

At the owl’s cry—the Moon-Hoot—they struck. No hound gave tongue; the beasts held the night’s breath. Leif, shadow-footed, cut the hemp-shackles with a seax of Winter-Bite. Gyda was pulled from the wolf’s mouth.

They fled to the grey tide. There, the Deep-Blowers (whales) waited. With the strength of the Great Fins, the longship was towed through the foam-road, faster than any oar could bite. Behind them, the Celts bayed at the moon, but the forest had closed its jaws against them.

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IV. The Oath of the Winding River

Upon the salt-deck, the Great Eagle stooped. It sat upon the masthead, an amber eye judging the hearts of men.

Then stood Asta, Erik’s fosterling. She raised her hand to the High-One and the Thunderer. She swore an oath that shall outlast the stone:

"Between the Folk of the River and the Kindred of the Wild, there shall be peace, not as master and thrall, but as Sword-Brothers of the Earth."

The beasts heard. The whales sounded. The eagles soared.

The lay is sung. The mead is earned. Honour the brave and fear the wild, for the gods have many skins!

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Understanding the Skaldic Worldview

In this story, the connection between the humans and the animals is central. To a Norseman of AD 980, this wasn't "magic" in the modern sense—it was Fylgja.

The Fylgja (literally "follower") was a supernatural guardian spirit bound to a family line, often appearing in the shape of an animal that reflected the person's character (a bear for a warrior, a fox for a cunning man, an eagle for a leader). By having the owls, deer, and whales assist the children of Erik, the Skald is implying that the Family Spirits of the Red-Handed clan have risen to protect their bloodline.

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A Final Touch of Lore

I chose to name the swords "Leavings of the Hammer" because, in the Viking Age, a well-made blade was a family's most prized possession. To lose one’s sister and one’s home to fire was a "shame-wound" that only a daring rescue could heal.

 

 

 

Death Song" (Erfidrápa) on the fall of the Celtic Chieftain

Here is the fall of the Celtic Chieftain, the one who dared to steal the sunlight of Erik’s house. The Raven’s Breakfast. The Fall of the Mountain-Wolf.

The high-seat is broken. The Gold-Giver of the Crags (Chieftain) has met the Kiss of the Iron (Sword-point). He thought to cage the eagle’s kin, but the Norns (Fates) wove a grey thread for his throat this night.

He woke to the Moon-Hoot, not the song of his harpers. Leif’s blade, the Icicle of Battle, sought the warmth of the Chieftain's heart. No mail-shirt can turn the tide when the Beast-Wards walk the hall.

Now he lies upon the heather, a feast for the Dark-Flyers (Ravens). The Dew of Wounds (Blood) waters the moss, and the Wolf of the Woods comes to claim the scraps of a broken oath.

The Purple Peaks are silent. The Sky-Screamer (Eagle) watches from on high. Let the Celts remember the Winding River: where the hearth-fire died, A Storm of Steel was born.

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The Skald’s Notes

• Gold-Giver: A traditional term for a leader. In Viking culture, a good leader was "generous with rings" to his followers. Calling the enemy a "Gold-Giver" ironically acknowledges his power even as he is defeated.

• The Moon-Hoot: This refers back to the signal given by the tawny owls in your story. In Skaldic verse, repeating a motif (the owl) ties the beginning of the saga to the end.

• Dew of Wounds: A visceral kenning for blood. It paints the battlefield as a grim landscape where blood falls like morning mist.

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The rescue is complete, the vengeance is tasted, and now the Sun of the Hall (the hearth-fire) burns for the homecoming. A saga is only as strong as the feast that follows it!

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The Feast of the Wild-Kin

The Horn is Raised in Erik’s Hall

The rafters of the newly built hall ring! The Wood-Whale (the longship) rests in the sand, and the smell of roasting boar chases the chill of the Purple Mountains from our bones.

I. The Vat of Cheer

Erik Red-Handed stands. He holds the Sea-Stag’s Horn, brimming with the Honey-Tide (mead). He drinks to the gods, to the return of Gyda, and to the Silent-Walkers of the forest who guarded his blood.

The benches are crowded with the Oar-mighty (warriors) and the Hearth-Keepers. There is no room for sorrow tonight; the "Ale-Guest" (drunkenness) is a welcome guest.

II. The Ring-Breaker’s Reward

Then Erik calls for Asta, the foster-daughter. For her courage in the shadow of the peaks, he performs the duty of a Ring-Breaker, a generous lord.

From his own arm, he slides a heavy coil of twisted silver—the Wrist-Binder of Kings.

"Asta," he bellows, his voice like the grinding of sea-ice, "you walked where the brave fear to tread. You spoke the tongue of the Feather and the Fur. Wear this so all may know you are kin to the Red-Hand and oath-bound to the Wild."

III. The Gift to the Kindred

But the feast is not for men alone. Asta takes the first cut of the meat and the first pour of the mead. She walks to the threshold, where the torchlight fades into the trees.

There, she leaves the Steel-Bite's Share (the offering). A pair of yellow eyes glint in the brush; a stag’s antlers catch the flickering light. The beasts do not enter, but they are there, a wall of fur and tooth guarding the Winding River.

The skald strikes the harp-string one last time. The story is carved into the folk's memory. Peace has returned, bought with iron and blessed by the wing.

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The Skald’s Key Words

• Ring-Breaker: A high compliment for a Chieftain. It means he is so wealthy and generous that he literally breaks pieces of his gold and silver arm-rings to reward his followers.

• Honey-Tide: Mead is fermented honey; calling it a "tide" suggests there is enough to drown the hall in celebration.

 

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Contemporary Style

Flames shot up from the burning hamlet on Priory Hill. The clouds above glowed, creating a vision of chaos and hell.

Leif and Magnus grabbed my hands and lowered me out the window while tattooed raiders stormed up the stairs. As the world I was familiar with ended, the raiders captured Gyda, dragged her away, and set the wooden house on fire, burning the bodies inside.

These are the worst nightmares from my early life. I hope you never have to smell burning flesh or hear the cries of animals fleeing from burning barns.

We stumbled along a secret forest path, guided by night birds. Tawny owls scouted ahead, and bats used their screeches to help us avoid hazards. Their hoots led us as we fled. Silent roe deer walked beside us, steadying us when we stumbled.

To the northwest, Priory Hill still glowed with the red and yellow flames set by the raiders.

After escaping the raiders, the deer that had quietly guided us led our tired group to a hidden hunting lodge high in the foothills of the Tabletop Mountain.

Thick bushes, fast rivers, and small lakes protected our refuge. Only the strongest survived in this place. Eagles and other birds of prey circled above, watching for any sign of the kidnappers.

For two days, we hid, sleeping, talking, and planning how to escape our nightmare. It would have been easier to stay safe inside, but our desire to save Gyda pushed us to act.

Once more, the roe deer led us through the thickets until we found a small coracle by the riverbank. Salmon and otters swam beside us as we floated down the winding river. Birds like wrens, robins, and crows watched for danger. We passed rapids and deep pools, finally reaching the sandy estuary where the river met the bay. There, our deer and bird friends left us, and gannets, petrels, and gulls took over. Dolphins then towed our little boat across the sea toward the magical castle on the western island.

As the moon grew, the dolphins guided us safely into a hidden cove, away from the raiders’ sight.

While planning how to rescue Gyda from the island castle, Magnus started to form a clever plan with the Norsemen. Leif used his father’s connections to make new friends among the clans and families who shared his family’s history of exploring lands across the ocean.

Petrels and swallows kept bringing us news about the northern raiders. Gyda, drugged and tied up, was being taken north into the Purple Mountains, home of the Celt marauders.

Buzzards circled high above the hills, tracking the raiders and keeping us informed. Magnus worked hard, gathering information and creating a brave plan to save Gyda. During the rescue briefing, he assigned tasks to everyone. Whales and dolphins helped us cross the sea and reach the sandy estuary. Birds watched for danger, while deer and hares led us to the brigands’ camp.

At dawn's break, tawny owls hooted and scouted the way to the brigands’ den. Asta, Magnus, and Leif rode on deer, while otters slid through the stockade. They got their stun grenades and laser swords ready. Moving quietly through the sleeping enemy camp, Leif gently woke a shaking Gyda and led the group to safety in the forest.

The animal friends guided the rescuers without alerting the drunken Celts. At the estuary, whales pulled the long boat through calm waves, quickly bringing everyone to safety.

Gyda, both crying and laughing, told us about her ordeal. As she spoke, a golden eagle landed on the balcony and said the Celts were losing their fight against the forest animals and were being driven from their mountain homes.

As we celebrated, Asta declared peace and independence for the animals and the people of the magical land of the Winding River.

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