379: Norse Sagas: Forsaken (part 2 of 2)

Quick disclaimer, we're in the Icelandic sagas, so there's some stronger-than-usual violence this week.

Please check out the post on mythpodcast.com for more info.

This week, on Myths and Legends, we're finishing up the stories of Bard and Guest from the Icelandic Sagas, and we'll see that all it takes to liven up your Christmas party is a little blood sport, and how the best way to protect your valuables is 300 zombie guards.

The creature this time is Sega, a bird who's had quite enough of human nonsense.

This is Myths and Legends, episode 379, Forsaken, part two of two.

This is a podcast where we tell stories from mythology and folklore.

Some are incredibly popular stories you might think you know with surprising origins, and others are tales that might be new to you, but are definitely worth a listen.

Last week on the podcast, Bard, a rich Icelander, lost his daughter and essentially became medieval Icelandic Batman, protecting those in need so nothing bad happened whenever they called upon him.

Turned out he actually just lost his daughter, as in she was drifting around for a while before coming to rest on Greenland, where, falling in love with a man named Skegi, she went to Norway.

Bard rescued Helga, his daughter, with some light kidnapping and brought her home and, as a way of taking his revenge on Skeggy, became familiar with Skeggy's daughter when he was traveling under the pseudonym G-E-S-T-Guest.

She found she was pregnant after Bard slash Guest left and declared that she would name her son Guest.

I have come to foster the boy, Helga said, looking on her half-brother, Guest, for the first time.

Skeggy, the baby's grandfather, was shaking.

It was the first time he had seen her since Norway.

There was so much he wanted to say, but it was too late.

Helga, in her 20s now, and he in his,

let's say, 40s,

too much time had passed.

He had returned here, to Iceland with his family and farm.

She was now a roving mountain woman.

It would never work.

They'd always have the snowy, troll-infested wastes of northern Scandinavia.

For now, though, the mother and son, Thordis and Guest, were sleeping.

Soon, only mother was sleeping as, wiggling the baby from her arms, Skeggy handed him off to Helga.

With a nod, Helga turned and left.

The forest trees darkened the child's face before Guest cried out for his mother.

Goodbye.

Helga, Skeggy whispered, a tear coming to his eye.

His wife looked at him and then the forest and then back to him.

Hey, why is he crying and who's Helga?

Wait, how did you know her name?

Twelve years later, Thordis knew the moment the youth appeared on the edge of the trees.

Her wooden bowl clanged to the floor as she ran out, knowing that if this day ever came and she was ever blessed by the gods enough to see her son again, she would hug him and never let him go.

Guest, who had been raised in an epic hero training camp by his half-sister, visited occasionally by his father if he could find them, had, at 12, already battled trolls, ogres, and witches.

But that hug, that was almost backbreaking.

The years Thordis spent in anguish, not being able to forgive her father for that day, it all melted away when she held her son.

Thorndyce's life was quiet after Bard left.

That winter had been eye opening and, having guest, her son, she felt like a new person, her own person.

Then, when guest was taken, as high as she had risen, she fell.

Her brother was this new, important person.

Her parents would hardly speak to her.

And guest, m both of them, were gone.

She was alone, adrift.

A part of her remained missing all those years, even though the old wounds scarred over.

She married the following spring, not quite the match she would have made, but also one that wouldn't ask too many questions.

He was kind, though.

And her life went on.

But for 12 years, there wasn't a day she didn't think about guest.

Her boy.

And now he was back.

Thoris's husband didn't ask because he didn't need to.

A powerful secret lurked under the waters of his wife's serene nature, and he knew it would surface when she was ready.

And as far as the husband was concerned, Guest was part of the family too.

Guest stayed for a year, helping out on Thoris' farm.

There she learned how his childhood had been, how he had fought trolls at age five and loved it.

He took after his father's side of the family, being nothing like her two gentle children she had with her husband.

At the end of the year, when Bard arrived for the now 13-year-old, they could all see that Guest's path lay with his father, and the grand, dangerous adventures with gods and monsters, and not building the quiet, peaceful life that the former made possible.

So Guest embraced Thordis and said goodbye to her husband and his half-siblings.

A figure stood at the trees, and Thordis smiled, remembering the time they spent together all those years ago, her first love with whom she had such a wonderful boy.

Bard smiled back, and when guest reached him, they turned into the shadows of the trees.

Thoris sighed and went inside.

Her husband stood there stunned that his wife's ex was Bard, god of the snowfell, um,

what?

Five years later, Guest was 18 and, waking up at Snowfell Glacier, to his father dragging a deer in before tossing it to his son, they had breakfast.

Eighteen years since the last episode, the cave was quieter now.

Bard's daughters had moved on, some to Norway, some to Greenland, others to villages on the booming Iceland.

It was now just Guest, Bard, and occasionally Thorkel, who, though forgiving Bard for shattering his leg, never let his older brother forget the ache in his bones when the weather was cold.

And on a snow-capped glacier mountain it was always cold, that, well, the ache was Bard's fault.

So this morning, on the morning of Yule, it was just Guest and Bard, and Guest sat up when his father reminded him that it was Yule.

Wait, Bag's party?

Did that mean they got to go to Bag's party?

Bard snorted.

It was Yule, wasn't it?

Well, Bag was, well, she was a troll woman.

A powerful one.

But she wasn't unreasonable.

You see, we touched on one aspect of Bard's career last time, the helping people in need.

But we should really address the other side of the coin, the hurting people in greed.

And I know that only barely makes sense, but it rhymes, so can I have it?

It's not as clearly detailed in the texts, but it's clear that the trolls in Iceland are terrified of Bard, and over the years, they stopped their fun pastimes of wanton murder and curses.

And part of that piece was, well, kind of a Christmas party.

Now I should be super clear that even though Yule is associated with Christmas now, it was definitely not a Christmas party.

And even though there were inklings of that type of talk in the East, Bard wasn't a Christian.

In fact, it wouldn't be until years later that Yule would be essentially rescheduled to match the Christmas celebrations to help that particular pill go down a little easier for the people.

For now, though, it was Yule.

And it was party time.

This was Bard's work.

Trolls, ogres, and humans getting together to celebrate Yule, with Bard the snowfell god himself in the high seat of honor.

And when I say they liked the party, one translation says, quote, the drinking there was completely out of control so that everyone got drunk.

Keep in mind, too, that this was a saga writer saying that things got out of control, and the sagas are no strangers to drinking.

To me, though, a celebration with your enemies, even though it's a celebration, should still maybe be tempered with even the smallest amount of temperance.

Still, this was Bard the Snowfell God, who may be old, but could take anyone in this room, unarmed, and apparently, half in the bag.

As we all know from like movies and college parties and stuff, When people get really hammered, there's only one thing they really want to do.

Play Four Square.

They called it the skin-throwing game, which sounds a little gross until you think about an old football, soccer ball, or really any type of leather ball.

And then all games are kind of skin-throwing games.

Their ball wasn't inflated or anything, it was a rolled-up bear cloak.

Additionally, it wasn't purely Foursquare, but something closer to Foursquare meets Monkey in the Middle meets rugby, because the game was that people stood in four corners and tossed the ball to one another.

There was a fifth who was out and tried to get the ball, and if they got it, they were back in.

The sheer terribleness of this idea, a bunch of drunk, naturally vicious trolls playing a violent contact sport with people they hate, well, the bad idea speaks to the respect the trolls had for Bard and their hostess, Bag.

I think Guest and Bard had talked about it ahead of time, though, because Guest stayed back on the benches while Bard played in the game.

And when it was Colbjorn, the ogre's turn to be out, well, he didn't think playing the game fairly was fair at all.

And he was going to do something about it.

With a club to the head, namely his his club, to Bard's head.

Luckily, he happened to trip on the way over to Bard.

That he tripped on the exact spot where Guest's foot was outstretched is probably coincidence, just like his nasty nosebleed that came after, which was, once again, completely unrelated to Guest's hand that moved so closely it seemed to guide his head as it careened toward the rocks in the floor of the cave, smashing not just his nose, but much of his face.

Colbjorn shrieked and fingers scraped rocks looking for his club, but when he found it, rose and wiped the blood from his eyes, Bag, the hostess, was filling his vision.

He wasn't going to do anything questionable, was he?

Colbjorn asked what gave her that idea.

She pointed to the club, the club he thought was appropriate to bring to a game of Foursquare.

This had been called together in friendship, and it was a Yule party, and everyone was a little bit extremely drunk.

Let's just chalk it up to a party foul, a phrase which, even in the 900s AD, was already a bit dated, and Colbjorn agreed to a peace because he literally had no other choice.

It should show the respect disparity that Colbjorn had to sit down and time out, even though half of his face was shattered, and Bard was given an apology, and his son a puppy.

And I'm not joking, for his trouble of having to smash a troll's face in, Guest got a dog.

Sources conflict on whether the dog's name was Snotty or Snuffler.

I like Snuffler because it gives this Viking dire wolf-sized troll dog that was, quote, better in battle than four men, a Sesame Street-style name.

Anyway, Bard and Guest stumbled on down the mountain home, and absolutely nothing bad came of this at all.

Unrelated, some sheep were turned invisible by trolls and stolen.

Really, it was unrelated for Bard and Guest, that is.

I'm several years out now from my undergraduate psychology minor, so I can't remember the name of the thing where someone is mad at their boss, but because they can't yell at said boss, they take it out on their family or kick the dog or something.

I thought it was transference or projection, but that's way more complex.

Anyway, it was kind of like that.

Colbjorn felt small, so he wanted to take it out on the people who couldn't smash his face in.

So he took it out on Thord's family.

An entire herd of sheep, when essentially a herd of sheep was your bank account, was a a big deal and Thorbjorn, if there aren't enough Thors and Bjorns already in this story, consulted with the other farmers in his region, including our lecherous old friend Skeggy, and they determined without evidence that yes, indeed, it was trolls that turned the sheep invisible and then led them away.

Not sure how they arrived at that conclusion, other than that it must have happened so frequently that it just made sense.

Medieval Iceland sounds kind of miserable, but not for the reasons that you'd think.

Skegi was right on the money, though, when he deduced the reason for the sheepnapping.

It was directed at Thorbjorn, which, I mean, sounds kind of obvious, but that also presented problems of its own.

Mainly, that Thorbjorn needed to take the bait.

He refused, though.

Destitution was acceptable, and no matter how many sheep they took, they weren't worth his sons' lives.

He was a good dad.

His sons, though, were good Icelandic sons and resolved to get the sheep back, even if it meant doing exactly what the trolls wanted and falling into their power.

Thord might have thought twice about this when a troll with a nose that had been broken in three places, his iron staff thudding the snow, emerged from the mist.

He wasn't the first being to emerge in the valley, though.

Throughout Thord's walk, he saw something of a mirage.

A beautiful woman mirage, which feels sireny, but that's a different mythos, so maybe he figured it was safe.

He was also a teenage boy, so yeah, he followed the beautiful woman deeper into the unknown.

But each time she disappeared, asking, hey, did you turn my family's life savings invisible and then steal it?

Is a pretty brazen charge to level at a person.

Or a troll.

Equally brazen is that troll saying, yes.

Yes, he did.

He has a lot of hate in his heart, and this is how he's choosing to deal with it.

But he has a deal.

That beautiful woman Thord's been seen in the mist, that was his daughter.

Now, either Thord could leave and lose his father's complete herd, never seeing them again because they'd be invisible and dead instead of just invisible, or he could have the sheep back and marry Colbjorn's very attractive daughter.

The choice was, well, it was pretty stacked on one side.

It was an obvious trap.

And Thord didn't walk, but ran right in.

Colbjorn heaped on the implausible compliments using his very salesy language that I'm barely altering when he said stuff like, Act now, this offer isn't available to everyone.

And he wasn't planning on partying with his daughter just yet, but he couldn't deny her such a good match of a vigorous young man.

Thor left with two things: the herd of sheep and an address for his soon-to-be father-in-law's cave.

His wedding was in a fortnight.

We'll see why it's a bad idea to do all of those things, but that will be right after this.

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His brother knew that he was going to his death, but would attend his wedding anyway, if that's what he wanted.

Thord said that that was what he wanted.

Thord literally told his father he had no misgivings about this course of action.

He was still apparently thinking about that woman he saw in the mist.

So the time came and the two brothers trudged up to the Hrutofjor valley until they found the cave in Bratigil.

Going inside, they found it to be foul-smelling and freezing cold.

They also found someone waiting for them.

A boy and his dog.

Hey, hi, are you the very intelligent teenager who's going to marry a troll?

I have no misgivings about Thord started to say the line he had been blurting out to pretty much everyone the past two weeks about this course of action, yes.

Guest finished the sentence.

Guest was on board.

No judgment.

He heard Soul Rome was beautiful.

Could he join in the wedding party?

Get nice and close to the troll who still had unfinished business with his family.

Thor said he was unfamiliar with any sort of long-standing feuds or drunken Yule facebreakings in the region, so yeah, that sounded good to him.

Excellent.

All right, let's go meet your bride, guest clapped.

On the way, Thord might have been wondering, was the whole couple seeing each other before the wedding thing a superstition in this time?

Did it apply when a woman was traded for sheep?

This was all very confusing.

But questions that apparently can't be answered by a quick Google had to go unanswered because, just off the main vein of the cave, a woman was bound to a pillar of stone, Solrun, the troll's daughter.

She was bound so close to a heaping, fresh pile of food that she could smell it, but she could reach no more than could keep her alive, and then only barely.

The story calls her skin-draped over a skeleton.

Thord untied her, and, after she ate her fill, panting, she said, hi, she was his betrothed?

She knew that Kolbjorn had been tricking guys with that?

Kolbjorn went to go invite monsters to the wedding, kind of waiting until the last minute.

There wasn't going to be a wedding, though.

They were going to torture and murder the two brothers, and she would be left here to her punishment.

I have no misgivings about this course of act.

Thord began and then thought, no, no, he did now.

All those things are bad.

Why would her dad do that to her?

She laughed.

Her father?

No, no, no.

She was kidnapped from Greenland.

She was bait.

Like very obvious bait.

It was amazing anyone should fall for this.

I have no misgivings about- Sorry, sorry, force of habit at this point.

Thor shook his head and turned into the mysterious, burly 19-year-old and thanked Guest for showing him all this.

Would Guest be able to help him when the time came?

It's literally why I showed you any

Yes.

Guest nodded.

There was talking and thumping and laughing and then, when Colbjorn and his group of ogres and trolls, the ones who apparently didn't have plans on that Saturday, saw them, Colbjorn shushed all of them.

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

There he is.

I can't believe he came.

Okay, okay, this is going to be awesome, Colbjorn said to Snickers.

And then his smile faded.

Wait, what was he doing here?

Colbjorn pointed.

I'm part of the wedding party, Guest said, not breaking eye contact with the troll dad who said he couldn't be here.

Then make me leave, Guest smiled.

That's what he thought.

Let's eat.

The list of troll names is...

just fun, and they have all the names you'd think trolls would have.

And they're not cool, token-sounding ones like how he raided the Edda for character names.

No.

We have Tub, Gaper, and Glint.

There's Gulf Spear, and Freight from Thombartle, and my personal favorite, Colbjorn's mother, who is not in attendance, but in her room, she's named Prickles, which I mean, that's, that's a horse name, right?

Come on.

Speaking of horses, they were on the menu, specifically horse meat and human meat.

Yes, the trolls brought in big roasted horse steaks and human legs.

Think chicken legs, but well, you get it.

Thing is, they didn't try to pull a schwanzong on them and trick them into eating human.

They had a special menu for humans in attendance because yes, obvious tricks to murder whole families are okay, but not respecting their dietary restrictions?

They might be monsters, but they weren't monsters.

After the meal, with all the trolls quite drunk on their very strong ale, Colbjorn staggered up the Thord.

What game did Thord want to play?

We'll play whatever game you like, Colbjorn, Guest replied.

Colbjorn looked like he just bit down on a lemon with any word from Guest.

But permission to play the games he wanted was all he was after.

He grinned.

As they wished.

Now, I thought Bearskin Keepaway Foursquare was a bad idea drunk in an enclosed space with players who actually wanted to kill each other.

Turned out, there was a worse idea.

We've had a number of scholars listen into this podcast over the years and write in helping me out with things.

So forgive me if this is an actual game, but Taking turns throwing a large bone at someone as hard as you can doesn't feel like an actual game to me.

And that was it.

That was the game.

You take the bone and you throw it at someone.

If that person catches it, they get to throw it.

If they don't, well, I guess that's why we have multiple ribs.

We have a few to spare.

Guest caught the first bone headed for Thord.

I guess that's fair too.

And said with Thord's permission, he'd like to take the turn.

And he took it.

Glint was not so good at this game.

He did catch the bone, with his face.

Guest hit him so hard that his eye popped out and dangled there on his cheek.

Tubb, his sworn brother, saw the cartoonishly violent eye dangling off the optic nerve thing and decided on vengeance.

He let the bone fly at Thorvald, Thord's brother, and Thord caught it and sent it back, smashing Tub's cheekbone so hard that his jaw broke.

Adding a new dimension to the phrase food fight, One of the trolls picked up a horse leg bone from the dinner table and let it fly, but Guest caught it, sending it back with so much force that both Fright's arm and thigh were shattered.

At that, they decided to end the game.

And I don't know how you wind down from that, but apparently, drinking helps.

The story tells us that they began drinking a second time.

Tubb probably found that challenging without a jaw, and maybe Glint's eye kept dipping in his ale as he tried to take a sip, but they were all moderately cool.

Everyone began nodding off the table.

All in all, successful bachelor party.

You know, I will admit I have some misgivings about this, Thord said when he woke up two hours later, just before sunrise with a pounding head.

Shh, shh, Guest said, huddled on the floor.

Thord winced.

Oh, he was sorry.

That was a little loud.

Oh, that wasn't for you, Guest said at full volume, wiping his sword.

That was the last of them.

Well, almost.

Thord looked around the party to

all the headless corpses.

Everyone but Guest, his brother, and Snuffler.

They were all dead, beheaded by Guest.

They were going to do the same to us, but worse.

Guest sheathed his sword.

Well, it's over then, Thord said.

Grossed out, but happy that this whole episode had a nice little bow on it.

Not yet.

He is still alive.

Guest pointed his sword toward the back of the cave.

to the quarters where Colbjorn had holed up because, despite his questionable choices up to this point, he was smarter than to get drunk and fall asleep next to the people he intended to kill.

He retired to his chamber with his personal guard.

Also, his sorceress' mom was still in her own room.

So we fight.

Thord drew his own sword.

Nope.

The commotion of us trying to open their doors would wake them, and we would be instantly killed since they would have the upper hand and were in their troll lair, Guest said, gathering his pack and waking up Thorvald by the stony door.

So we run.

Thord Thor cheathed this sword.

He would go get Solrun.

They weren't halfway home before the forest started darkening around them.

Everything darkened around them.

They saw only two glowing eyes floating in the void.

I knew this would happen.

We'll all be killed.

Nothing can withstand them.

Sol Run staggered back.

Despite the single meal she had earlier, she could still barely stand after the run through the valley.

Now,

Prickles had arrived.

Wait, Prickles?

Her name is Prickles, the witch that pulled us into her endless void?

Yes, Prickles, Guest said.

Weird name.

Super dangerous woman.

From the darkness, Colbjorn, Gulf Spear, and Gaper emerged.

When prickles took form and floated down to touch the ground, they were back to the cave, just outside, the wind whipping the morning air as the sun began to light the sky behind them.

Guest pointed.

Thor had gotten them into this, so he would take Colbjorn.

Thorvald would take Gaper and Guest, Gulfspear.

Who will take the witch?

Solron asked, and Guest told her that he would take care of the witch.

The saga is very specifically violent about the way the fight went down, in a way that only the Norse sagas really are.

Guest, knowing it was a hard fight, chose the easiest opponent for himself.

And, mere moments after the group peeled off after their own adversaries, Guest had Gulf Spear above his head, holding him by the neck of his shirt and his hip, and brought him down on the rocks of the cave so hard that his head, quote, smashed into smithereens, according to one translation.

It then said he died shortly after, which is a little impressive.

Guest chose Golf Spear, though, so he could help out with the assist on, well, everyone else.

Thorvald was at the point of falling until Guest appeared behind Gaper, and then towered over Gaper when he cut Gaper off at the knees.

The pair left him to bleed out alone in the snow.

Kolbjorn could have definitely taken Thor, but not immediately.

Thor put up enough of a fight for Guest and Thorvald to come over, though.

And that was that.

Long after Colbjorn tried to kill Guest's father at a Yule party, Guest had his revenge when, leaping at Kolbjorn, he put both knees into his back so hard that it instantly snapped Kolbjorn's neck.

They heard a cackling.

They turned as the sky began to darken, and Prickles the witch seemed to grow in stature.

Just then, the bodies of the fallen began to twitch, their mouths open and they gasped for breath.

Their wounds began to heal.

Laughing, the witch said as long as she lived, the trolls could die over and over again, but the humans only once.

How many times did they think they could win this fight?

Because

then a boulder dropped on her and she died.

The bodies of the trolls went limp, and they looked the same as when they fell.

The humans all looked up to Snuffler, the dog, who had spent the whole fight wedging the boulder free.

He really was worth four men.

Guest smiled.

Good boy.

He turned his soul run.

She was free from the troll's evil and, well, he wanted to introduce himself and reveal the real reason why he was here.

He was also a child of Bard.

He was her brother.

We'll see what's going on with all that, but that will, once again, be read after this.

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I knew he could handle it, Bard said, in as happy and approving a tone as his gravelly voice would allow, referring to Sol Run's rescue after she had recently been abducted from Greenland.

Decades on, Bard was giving off Dark Knight Returns vibes, and he was more sedentary now.

Not long ago, he would have been the one to avenge his daughter's kidnapping, but now he sent his son.

By way of apology, he told Solrun she could have or do anything she wanted, and he would support it.

She said there was only one thing she wanted, Norway.

Bard cocked an eyebrow.

Norway, but

why?

Solrun wanted to see the land where her grandfather was a king, and she wanted to meet Olaf Tryggvason, the king in Norway.

Now, the unification of Norway, which happened in the 880s, was the catalyst for 19-year-old Bard heading west to Iceland.

King Olaf didn't take power until 995, which would put Bard's age at at least 134.

He's really only supposed to be in his 60s or 70s at this point in the story.

Bard looked to guest.

Well, looked like Guest was going to Norway too.

Hey, I'm her husband.

What makes you think I can't keep her safe?

Thord cried.

The rest of the cave looked at him.

Yeah, okay, guest can come too.

I don't like King Olaf, Guest said.

You don't know King Olaf.

Solrung crossed her arms.

They were in the hall, waiting for an audience with King Olaf.

I know of him.

He's a control freak.

He wants to control everything, even what his subjects believe.

He converted to that new religion.

Okay, I bet you he brings it up in the first three sentences.

I'll take that bet, Thord, his brother-in-law said.

You know our dad met a guy who met Thor?

Guest remarked as the doors to the throne room opened.

It's 10th century Iceland.

Everyone's met someone who met Thor, Sulrun hissed as they approached the king.

King Olaf was still young.

He maybe could have been as old as 35 here, but he was into that new religion after a seer told him he would almost die in battle at sea, and then he almost died in a battle at sea.

Not the highest of bars for a Nordic leader, but it was enough for him.

In 995, he had just finished building the first church in Norway and founded the city of Trondheim.

He would die just five years from now, but not before subjecting his country to a forced conversion to Christianity, forced conversions being the worst type of conversions.

Dear king, before we head north, may we winter in your city?

Guest asked with a bow.

Will you accept baptism?

The king replied.

Guest looked sideways to Thord with a smirk, and then back to the king.

Yeah, sure.

He had heard about that.

Some water on the head?

Why not?

Certainly no symbolism or cosmic consequences for him.

As you can probably guess, King Olaf was a bit much for Guest's tastes.

And about halfway through the winter, Guest took to sleeping on the ship just to get away from the proselytizing.

He really should have read the fine print when it came to the baptism thing, because it turned out he was actually accepting Christianity, which apparently meant he couldn't worship Thor and Odin, which was kind of a deal-breaker for him.

He and Olaf ironed things out when it became very, very clear that Olaf needed to respect Guest's faith being different from his own, and that forced conversions could hardly be considered conversions at all.

Also, no one could force guests to do anything at all, and Olaf would lose a lot of men if he ever tried to force guest to convert.

So, so guest was allowed to keep his faith and, by virtue of being so scary, then rose quickly in King Olaf's ranks.

At a Christmas celebration, which conveniently happened to fall at that year's Yule time celebration, everyone was drinking and feasting and having a good time.

Okay, what?

Did does anyone smell that?

Everyone instinctively stepped away from the smell to see an armored man in a helmet and mail standing right next to the king's high seat wearing a gold chain and a golden ring on his arm he announced that they were all so

rude he hadn't been addressed or offered anything by the king but he was going to address them he would make them an offer Anyone who wanted this golden necklace or these golden arm rings that weren't bangles but looked kind of like bangles.

Anyone who wanted these things could come and claim them if they dared to take them from him.

He turned with a sneer and then strode from the hall, leaving only a foul smell behind him, which the first time I read that, I was like, okay, he absolutely farted and just left it there.

Olaf, once he recovered enough to yell, stood.

His men were the bravest in the land.

They wouldn't shrink from a fight because

they were sleeping?

Why were they unconscious?

Really, all but guest and a few priests at the edge of the room.

And all the watchdogs were dead, save Snuffler.

The party never recovered.

But the war council slash story time session that followed in its wake went well into the night.

The king, the visitor, according to people familiar with the old tales, was King Rachnar, with a K, not a G.

When he died, he was buried with 800 of his men in a ship in a burial mound in Slabland.

He was a bad man in life, having murdered his own parents in order to take power, as soon as he realized how much he wanted power.

Olaf turned to Guest.

Guest's quest, if he chose to accept it, was to go to Slabland, defeat King Rachnar, and bring back those treasures.

Guest was one of the few people the king could ask such a thing and not command it.

And Guest, though thinking it sounded more like a death sentence, agreed, should Olaf give him everything he asked for.

The first, 40 iron shoes.

The second, two magicians.

They were named Hook and Crook, which sounds like something out of a Final Fantasy game.

The third, three seasons of provisions, and the ships to take them north.

Olaf also threw in a priest for free, which wasn't something Guest really thought he would need, but the man was skinny and didn't look like he would eat much, so Jorstein would come along to preserve the peace between Olaf and Guest.

Olaf then went full Galadriel, giving some magical items.

A sword that would bite when the need arose, which, I mean, isn't that really all the times you use a sword?

You never swing a sword and you're like, oh, I hope this doesn't cut anything.

A towel he could wrap around himself because it's just about the most massively useful thing an international monster hunter could carry, and a candle that would burn by itself when held aloft.

But if it went out, Guest had to leave wherever he was.

Guest set sail the following spring, saying goodbye to Thord and Solrun and then heading north.

Who are you?

Guest said to the man who just rode aboard.

The one-eyed stranger grinned.

Him?

Well, his name was Red Mustache.

Actually from the sagas.

A mysterious traveler, a wanderer who's spreading the word about how fun and good it is to sacrifice stuff to Odin.

The men of the ship closed in on the traveler.

Odin?

Who was this Odin he spoke of?

Red Mustache said only the best and greatest god who ever lived.

He could see the future and one day he would fight a giant wolf who would eat the sun.

He regularly fought giants and his son controlled thunder and battled a giant sea serpent.

That sounded kind of awesome, the men agreed.

Oh, he is awesome friends, Red Mustache said.

He can help out with battles and sea voyages and

we're on a sea voyage to a battle one man piped up well then it looks like you could use odin's help most of all red mustache clapped how can we get his help the men were worried guest was completely starstruck red mustache said it was so easy everyone could get odin's blessing all it took was a simple sacrifice Animals were the most common, but he could see they didn't bring much livestock.

No matter, there was some evidence to suggest that human sacrifice took place.

And Odin desired human life most of all.

In fact, Red Mustache, sitting on the edge of the ship, pointed to the priest.

That guy looked expendable.

The crew laughed.

He really was.

Sneering, priest reached into his bag and, closing the gap between himself and Red Mustache faster than anyone could have anticipated, took out a crucifix and cracked Red Mustache on the forehead.

Red Mustache dropped unconscious in the water and sank like a stone.

Is he dead?

The people asked.

No, he's not dead.

He was Odin, Guest said with a sneer, side-eyeing the priest.

He inspected the water for a little bit longer and then, when there was no movement, told everyone to get back to work.

Having Odin against them now, the priest turned out to be more helpful than not in an admittedly heavy-handed 14th-century century saga likely written by Christians.

Smacking stuff with that crucifix, he took down a bull that appeared in the night and threatened their camp.

And he outlasted Hook and Crook, who were swallowed up by the ground, trying to retrieve iron bars that were obviously bait.

Guest even let the priest ride on his back when, crossing the lava fields with their iron shoes on, they made the final approach to King Raknar's mound.

It took all day to break the roof of Raknar's burial mound, and not wanting to enter at night, the group decided to wait until morning to enter.

Well, when morning came, the mound was as before, completely sealed.

They went to work breaking it again, sleeping, waking, and again found it closed.

Breaking it a third time, the priest, Jostein, said he had this.

They could sleep.

Guest could see the determination in the man's eyes and agreed.

Fine.

Okay.

The

Secret love that the priest had back in town, a woman his age who made him feel things he shouldn't and who he longed to be with but couldn't because of his vocation, there was even guest

commanding him to get up and go back to the ship.

They were leaving, and if he didn't follow, he would be left behind.

But the spirits of the mound couldn't touch him, and he sat unwavering in his watch.

In the morning, when the sun rose, so did the priest upon guest's approach.

The mound was open.

It was done.

It was fifty fathoms down, so about ninety-one meters or three hundred feet before guests' boots touched the ground.

He held the candle aloft, and before him, in its light, the ship, named Slowdon.

It could be maneuvered by no fewer than three hundred men.

He climbed up its dusty boards until he stood atop the deck, and there, off in the darkness, there was a shuffling and rousing.

Something else was down there.

Three hundred somethings, actually.

Drauger, the vengeful dead, rushed at him from the darkness.

But froze.

It was the candle.

Because of the candle, they could only snort and roll their eyes.

Guest drew Olaf's sword with his other hand, and the promised bite cut through their necks, quote, like water.

You know, that famously cuttable thing.

Arriving at King Raknar at the end of the ship, Guest could see the man draped in cobwebs, little more than a skeleton with bits of long decayed flesh still clinging to his bones.

Foul and cold, Guest bowed to Raknar, and Raknar dipped his head in response, his eyes seeming to crackle to life.

I've come a long way to see you, Guest declared, his voice echoing in the void.

Provide me with your promised reward.

Ragnar knelt and presented the helmet.

The scraps of hair that clung to the draughter's head fluttered and fell away with the flesh.

He took the necklace and the rings and then, finally, Guest asked for the sword.

Raknar gave it to him when he stabbed Guest in the stomach.

Guest looked down, but couldn't see for long.

The candle in his left hand went out.

The eyes of the hundreds of draughter whose heads he hadn't removed illuminated the darkness as they began to close in.

He rose and drew his sword, but it was a normal sword again.

He took another slice to the shoulder, a mace to the helmet, an axe to the back.

He would die here alone, in the darkness.

Then a wild and mad thought.

Bard, Bard, God of the snowfell, guardian spirit.

Before he knew what was happening, he was crying out in the darkness for Bard, for his father.

But, whether because he was overwhelmed by the darkness or not physically on that continent, Bard didn't fight back the hordes.

As more Drauger shuddered to life and crawled up from the depths, Guest thought of the candle still in his hand.

Olaf.

King Olaf.

With that thought, a light shined in the darkness, descending.

It was like the candle, but brighter and more dangerous to the Draugr.

They burst into ash when they got close, and soon they were fleeing into the foul and lonely places deep in the earth, the home of the restless dead.

But Rachnar wouldn't flee.

He couldn't.

He stood and defied the light.

Guest vowed that moment to take the faith that King Olaf proclaimed, and when he did, he found himself brimming with new life.

He took his sword in hand, leapt atop Ragnar's shoulders, and hewed his head from his neck.

The body collapsed, and Guest, yes, jammed his face into his buttocks, as was the custom to keep Draugr from coming back to life again.

With his last bit of strength, Guest tugged the rope at his waist three times, and he felt himself ascend.

Guest finally awoke back in Trondheim, the city of King Olaf.

The ship had been back for days, and Guest's fever had finally broken.

He learned that they had pulled him from the mound, bleeding and raving, gripping the treasures, and nearly as soon as they did, a storm cracked the sky.

They dragged him to the ship where, the sea churning with supernatural fury, the priest took command to get him out of there.

Guest called for Snuffler, but Thord and Solrun sighed.

See, on the ship, Guest was still barking out orders.

The only one to listen to his orders was Snuffler.

Orders like they were getting close to the reef.

Dive in and check if the reef was still there.

The dog listened and obeyed his final mistaken order from his master.

It died cut up on the reef.

On the ship, Guest collapsed.

Guest told his sister Solrun and his brother-in-law Thord that he didn't want to see them again.

They should return to Iceland.

This...

this wasn't their home.

They tried to talk him out of it, but like most things, Guest couldn't be moved once he had made up his mind.

When they finally left, in tears, Guest learned that he had another visitor, King Olaf.

Guest presented him with the treasures, treasures that had cost him far more than he could have ever imagined.

They cost him his best friend, his faith, and soon his life.

But he would make good on his promise to Olaf in the burial mound.

He would be baptized.

For real this time.

Olaf had no context for whatever it was Guest was going on about, but he was ecstatic Guest wanted to be baptized for real this time.

And so, Guest was baptized.

For real this time.

It was a celebration for the kingdom.

This was a big get, conversion-wise.

But Guest was somber.

He retired to his room early.

He knew what awaited him.

Disappointment.

Anger.

His father appeared to him in his dreams.

Guest asked what he was supposed to do.

Die, die fighting monsters, die valiantly in battle.

Bard wouldn't do him the honor of looking him in the eye.

What, instead Guest renounced the faith of his forefathers for trinkets and a few more days of life?

Guest swallowed hard.

He...

he understood.

The palace awoke to Guest crying out in agony.

When the doctors rushed into his room, they found him feeling around in the darkness.

They were able to get him into bed, but the infection had taken his eyes in the night and his fever was spiking.

Olaf was by his side when, according to the sagas, his eyes burst and blood dribbled down in his baptismal clothes.

An infection that they must have missed took him that day, and so Guest, son of Bard,

died.

So, yeah, that was a bit of a letdown ending.

And a mismatch of Norse mythology and Christian-ish elements, but this one, more than most, makes a plot point of the tensions between the old gods and the new.

I mean, was the story hard on Guest?

Absolutely.

Probably more than he deserved.

I'm not sure what sorts of tensions were going on at the time, but this story was put down to paper about 400 years after Iceland decided to convert.

And to me, it seems like they're on one hand trying to enjoy and celebrate their heroes while also showing that they might have made the wrong choice, faith-wise.

But also didn't?

When it comes to Guest at least.

I mean, his eyes exploded because he chose to convert.

It feels like it was a complex and complicated time, with either the writer being policed in what they could and couldn't say in reference to their cultural past, or maybe they themselves were wrestling with it.

Next week, we're back in British folklore.

But that's all I'll say about that because this episode is our longest in a while, and I'm tired.

The creature this time is Sega from Samoan tradition.

Some places describe it as a parakeet.

It's also a man-eater.

That might seem strange for a bird that's not six inches tall and frankly beautiful.

And it is.

But this bird is also the grandson of a god.

When Sunenafoa, a princess, gave birth to a blood clot that turned into a bird, she honestly took it in stride.

That bird, the Sega, became part of the family.

It couldn't talk.

It was in every way a bird, but even when Sinoafua gave birth to a human girl, the bird was still treated like the girl's older brother, except everyone didn't see it that way.

When the sister, Sinalea, was married to the king of Fiji, he wanted that bird.

The family said no, he couldn't have that bird, it was his brother-in-law, he laughed and stole the bird.

It wasn't revealed until they were on their way home, surrounded by the king of Fiji's warriors, so the bird was his.

Unfortunately, he had to visit his in-laws, and kidnapping your brother-in-law, even if he is a bird, makes for an awkward family reunion, so, cage in hand a few years later, the couple sailed for Samoa.

Except, well, that other king has some nice stuff.

The king of Fiji liked nice stuff.

Him?

Well...

He just had this bird and yeah, he traded the bird for the nice stuff.

From Lu Uafato.

Lu Uafato loved the Sega and it stayed with him for years as his pet until, on his deathbed, he declared that when he died, he wanted the bird to be buried with him.

The Sega, after a life of being traded and captured and now would be buried alive with a guy he hated, finally had enough.

In the watch before the man must be buried, The Sega released all of his pent-up anger at being pent up and consumed his oppressor, eating Luofuato.

Having been thoroughly wronged by the world of the humans, the Sega broke bad in a big way and, to this day, supplies victims to a demon for his cannibalistic feasts.

So yeah, if you're getting the feeling your pet bird wants to murder you, maybe let it fly free so you don't end up as bird food.

That's it for this time.

Myths and Legends is by Jason and Carissa Wiser.

Our theme song is is by Broke for Free, and the Creature of the Week music is by Steve Combs.

There are links to even more of the music we used in the show notes.

Thank you so much for listening, and we'll see you next time.

This is Jana Kramer from Windown with Jana Kramer.

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