My Viking lands are spread.
At the moment I live among mountains, in the most beautiful fjord landscape one can dream of. People who come here believe it to be Viking heaven, or Valhalla inside Midgard. Many stay far longer than intended, some settle for years or for life. Common to all who leave is that coming back is like coming home. As I arrived I was given a dream – to build a Viking sanctuary, a dwelling of a few chosen – to teach history to thousands. To pass on the dream. This has been my passion and my calling, for as long as it takes to grow from infant to a responsible parent. I came here as a stranger, grew into the wild mountainside and is now even known as the king of Njardarriket. And I am proud enough to say I earned it. Every year hundreds of reenactors travel here to fall in love, to be enchanted, to make babies and to trade their goods.
And they leave, forever lost into the dream.
As time went I travelled. To share my new passion. My journey went across the Norse sea to Norththumberland and to Jorvik, as my past time relatives before me. I went as far as The Bridge. Stamford Bridge in East Riding of Yorkshire. I walked with friends on what was called Battleflats, and I saw where the old bridge had been 950 years ago. And I wandered “Might I have been here before?” I believe I might. I got many friends there, companions for life. Even my skald I met there. Adrian the Skald have been my close poet ever since, and will be for as long as we walk this path together. And of course who can be a (even an imaginary) king without a Skald to tell his story!
As Vikings leave their heart between the mountains where I live, a part of my heart will always stay in the streets of Jorvik, and the beer will never taste as good as among friends in the old flooded pub Kings Arms by river Ouse. And in my dream, one winter morning in February some year, I will claim my Viking land of my past as we roll down our flags along the walls of Cliffords Tower.
Lets end this day with a poem from my skald:
…and I Recall Forever Who Is Our Chieftain
I recall the day
I was asked by Olafr Reydarsson to stand by him to be his Skald
I recall the day that the man Georg called to my audience
that he would like to have me by his side at all times
I recall the day he said he would like me to never leave this old land
I recall the day I heard my chief was ill
I recall the day I heard he had stood again
I recall the day I was announced by him, in York, as the Skald of Jorvik
I recall the day I first stepped among these many Viking people
I recall the day I first met Georg
I recall the day he smiled
I recall the day he smiled at my challenging ways
I recall the day he accepted my unusual thoughts
I recall the day he called us all to listen to my words
I recall the day he laughed
I recall the day I sat beside his great chair
I recall the day I was welcomed into his home
I recall the day he called me friend
I recall the day a whole host looked up to him
I recall the day the falls all turned to mist
I recall the day the ship had him at prow
I recall the day no single soul refused
I recall the day I knew I was only one of all
I recall the day he told me of his dreams
I recall the day I knew
I recall the day I pledged to walk by him all time
Recall the day