We posted a week or two ago about the great scrolls found in a Canister in Norway by Robert Hamstrangler, Norway’s greatest anthropologist and hot water blower upper that told the story of Ginger Volk.
You can read Part 1 Here; Part 2 Here; Part 3 Here, Part 4 Here and Part 5 Here
Now ’tis time for Part 5……..
THE GINGER SCROLLS – THE DEPARTURE continued……
One of our number, Strik, bade us farewell and leapt to his death, honoured to be with his kin in after world favouring their affections to those of us still alive. His choice his Way.
Upon the prow of our ships, Narwhals guided us through the disdainful water, their tusks like beacons of light in the grey murk, guiding our navigators to sail with some knowledge of where our desolate future lay.
To each side of our vessels dolphins swam as outriders, to inform and protect the flame haired of any advancing danger or destitute Huplanders who dared to do battle still.
Great birds, sent by their brother Exeretheon the Night Flyer squalled above the vessels, eyeing the clouds, wind and future light and the greatest of them the size of a small motorway service station (this may be an error in translation), would defecate on Kerkhof the Pilot of the lead vessel, with messages of the course to be taken.
Man, woman and child, in lard hair boats were carried by desolate winds of despair and the surly tides of bondage. For 173 days we ventured south towards unknown worlds and peoples we had so studiously sought to avoid these previous eons.
We made our peace with the green eyed sea for safe passage. And still mother Sun refused to appear to help or woes lighten and our misery.
Silver gilded Gryphon’s spied upon our desperate journey and their spectral presence haunted even the youngest amongst us. Only Exeretheon’s brothers prevented attacks. For evil’s granite claw has dug its black heart into our people and is determined to make us suffer with every cruel twist of the fates.
From each vessel our volk peeled low murmurs to reason with our Gods for safe passage and sanctuary and to cry for the loss of homes, kith, kin and kilns. Oh Tragedy! Oh despair from whence we came, to where we go, we know not save for the lone Pilots of our own destiny, guiding the last of our volk to a future unwritten and unknown.
Sing for the dead
Sing for the living
Sing for the forgotten
Sing for the weary, the tired and the vanquished
Sing of mirth and good nature
Sing to life
Sing my song my love when I am far away
For I shall sing for you
Our incantations, as tradition dictated would continue for the time between day and night, when the winds turned against us. On we would sing, bitter salted tears stinging our eyes and grazing our sallow, dirtied cheeks, but we would not stop as the words gave us comfort and hope as if our past was with us in the present and so we could see a future.
Our flame coloured hair billowed like sparks of fire in the mocking sea breeze, assailing our features and licking our faces like tongues of spitting flame and the people of the lands we traveled past considered our vessels aflame. Even the tawdry gulls afeared, squawking their desultory announcements.
Where we venture from, our land cruelly taken from us by famine and the curse of the fear and famine forged into evil intent by Overath and his minions, was unknown to many who saw us float past them, nor could they fathom or dared ask as we sailed along the coast of Hupland.
Shoreliners, peasants and warriors alike, eager to see us on our way from their barren coastal lands forged a peace with each other in doing so. As we approached night would fall, the Sun abandoning these places also. Even mother Sun was abandoning us to our fate in near Southern lands. The Shoreliners and their protectors invoked the voices of their Gods for wrath to be visited upon our wretched band of kin to move us from their lands and allow precious light to restore its benevolence upon their lands. For famine too had wreaked great suffering along these lands.
As the Hup Chronicles say “There these carriers of doom, these harbingers of evil, and these soulless beasts moved along the coast murmuring and chanting to our gods for evil mercy to fall upon us for the passage of sin conducted by the drowned Overath and his blooduse minions. Had they been abandoned by our deities for foul deeds done foully or had they failed to pay homage to our Gods for protection?
Across the land the people begged for Valhalla’s curse to be lifted and mighty Odin to protect them from the reek of evil these red haired people came imbued with. Curse upon them and their kin we would cry and we would launch stones, rocks and leather leggings out to the cold, green swell in an attempt to ward the flame hairs from landing on our land. But the flame hairs never looked towards land. Instead they maintained a regal pose aboard their proud ships made of lard and hair and steadily floated toward the place the great sea creatures and sea birds were leading them to. For some of us it became a beautiful sight to behold – a broken people together in life and death.” (The Hup chronicles are available in hard back from any good bookshop).
Our tears do fall into the sea
Our hearts are broken wrenched as we are from home
Our hopes are battered upon the brooding swell
But we shall meet again of that I am sure my friend
In a land of peace and Sun
We trusted our senses and we paid fealty to our guides and no amount of leather leggings would dispel us from this aim.
On the vessels sailed, beyond the fear and callous overtures of the mortal Shoreliners – our phalanx of sea creature’s guiding us to our unknown destination. Our people’s thoughts finally turning to warmer kinder thoughts, of dance and merriment of love and laughter. Perhaps the great tragedy that lay in the recesses of the far North could be laid to rest.
Some swore they saw mother Sun beyond the horizon, at last revealing her to us after wait so long and tragic. Hope built once more.
But it was not to be.
To be continued………
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