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 Discovering Iceland, ca. 890

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Fallegi lúserinn minn
Fallegi lúserinn minn

Join date : 2010-11-14
Location : Reykjavík, Iceland

Discovering Iceland, ca. 890 Empty
PostSubject: Discovering Iceland, ca. 890   Discovering Iceland, ca. 890 Icon_minitimeSun Jan 30, 2011 1:38 pm

Iceland-- or, the boy who had just learned that 'Iceland' was what he should call himself now-- spent his day much like he had been spending it. Watching the strange new people constructing a little village.

Most of his history had been extremely lonely before that. As long as he could remember, life was just a warm summer without night, and a bone-chillingly cold winter without day. It was just him and the seabirds. To Iceland, life was mostly just him the puffins. He was fond of the puffins; they were cute, homely sorts of birds. One of them had taken to following him around, and letting him snuggle into his nest in the worst of the winter weather. The same puffin was sitting with him at this very moment, enjoying the little breeze blowing over the bluff and into the trees, and accompanying Iceland in his people watching.

These people were not the first to come to his shores. First, there were monks from some foreign land. He barely remembered what they called the island. The Papar, they called themselves. Maybe they called him "Thule," or perhaps he had forgotten entirely what his first name was. He was surprised by the monks; they only came in the summer for a brief period, but before then, Iceland had almost thought of himself as another type of seabird. They came often enough to remind him that he wasn't.

Eventually, they stopped coming entirely, and more people came to the island and gave him more names. "Garðarshólmur," one called him, another "Snæland." They all sounded so different, but none stayed very long. Even the man who stayed behind with his slaves, he only stayed for one year. They all left. Except the men on his shore right now.

And here that man and his friends were still here, many winters and summers later. More winters and summers than Iceland could count on his dirt-caked fingers. He was wondering when they were going to leave, or why they, for some reason, didn't want to leave. He was curious, but a bit suspicious about this as well; they were different than the others, for better or worse. He crept further towards the settlement, though still staying on the little bluff amongst the trees. He had an odd feeling in his gut about these people.
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Discovering Iceland, ca. 890
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