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nordipalooza2015-05-24 08:51 am
nordipaloozamod) wrote in nordipalooza2015-05-24 08:51 am
Entry tags:
[Fanfic] Krummavísur (The Raven's Song)
Title: Krummavísur (The Raven's Song)
Author: kainoliero
Prompt: Norway, Iceland - Song - (1700s or 1500s)
Other characters: -
Rating: G
Content notes: based around an Icelandic folk song Krummavísur, The Raven's Song. You can find the song here: https://youtu.be/tq4seuBFxIM. The fic is set in early 1800's.
Summary: Ravens aren't evil, they're just ravens doing raven things. If you fall through the ice the raven thing is - obviously - to see if you'll soon become the next meal for them.
Translation of the song used:
A raven slept in a rock-rift
On a cold winter's night
Many are the things that can harm him.
Before the beautiful day set
he dragged his frozen nose
From underneath a large rock.
"Everything outside is frozen
There's nothing to find at the shore
I'm only filled with hunger.
Everything's covered in ice
Not a food table anywhere
Full-fledged birds can fly far.
Krunk krunk! Other ravens, come here!
Krunk krunk! For us is ready
A feast on cold ice!"
Krummavisur
Krummi svaf í klettagjá,
kaldri vetrarnóttu á,
verður margt að meini
verður margt að meini...
It felt as if only a moment had passed when he opened his eyes. The sun was so bright he could barely keep them open without squinting, which made no sense because it was the dead of winter and quite late in the day. He heard the sound of large birds, their feet and wings, drawing nearer to him somewhere above and nearby on the snowy bank and that managed to annoy him enough that he tried once more to pull himself up. He would not end up as raven food if he could still fight it. The sunlight was so wonderful though, so warm, so inviting... the sounds were beginning to fade away and Norway let go, slowly, closed his eyes and drifted along the stream, and the last thing he knew was a piece of ice knocking him softly to the side of his head.
...Fyrr en dagur fagur rann,
freðið nefið dregur hann
undan stórum steini,
undan stórum steini...
It felt as if only a moment had passed when he opened his eyes. For a while he had no idea where he was or why he was, possibly even who he was, and for some reason he fleetingly thought of ravens. The birds were pushed aside by another, nagging one, that said everything was not only fine but that he should really know more than he was thinking he did. He tried to have a look at the room he was now in in the dim light, but there was barely anything to see, just a solitary candle, worn down tools and a few pieces of furniture of the Icelandic variety -
Ah.
He tried to move but all of his limbs were ignoring his will. He couldn't even turn his head, and now he realized he was shaking of cold. This was strange because he was obviously lying down in a bed and not only covered by an unusually heavy pile of blankets but something else as well, sheep skins judging by the smell. His mind was still groggily trying to kick itself back into shape and now it alerted him to the sounds around him, a quick pattering of someone moving around in soft shoes. He thought of ravens again and mused that he must have mistaken this sound for their wings.
A shadow fluttered in front of the light for a while, humming quietly to itself:
"Allt er frosið úti gor, ekkert fæst við ströndu mor, svengd er metti mína..."
The room was so dark he hadn't realized this other person had been there the whole time, busying himself somewhere in the shadows, but, Norway thought, that mattered little because he already had a good idea who it might be. He tried to say something but his body was rebelling him still and all that came out was a half sigh, half grunt.
"Oh, you're alive?"
No doubt about it, Norway thought. He tried again and this time managed a feeble hello.
"I've warmed up some soup for you. If you can sit up you should drink some."
Norway stared quietly into the darkness above him, trying to push black-feathered wings out of his mind and feverishly hoping he could move. Warm soup sounded good, besides it didn't do to be so helpless. Somewhere at the end of the bed Iceland was looking at him expectantly and here he was, unable to do anything at all.
Iceland bent over him for a moment and placed something - by the sound of it one of those lidded, wooden bowls of his - on a shelf above the bed. He stepped out of his shoes and hastily took off his shirt. Pushing the blankets aside he lifted Norway up to a sitting position, sat behind him so that they both ended up halfway lying and sitting against the headboard of the bed. He still felt cold and lying on Iceland felt almost painful the same way hot water feels painful on frozen hands, but at the same time he welcomed the pain. It meant he was not dead yet.
Behind him Iceland reached over his head and grabbed the wooden bowl again. He propped it on the blankets and began to feed him, slowly and clumsily, not really judging the whereabouts of Norway's mouth that well. He also seemed to be trembling in a weird, suppressed manner. Norway tried to will his hands to move enough so he could at least take over (and if possible at all, knock the laughter out of Iceland) but alas, today nothing seemed to go the way he wished. He gave up and ate in morose silence until his eyelids began to feel heavy again.
"Sorry about the horse", Iceland was saying somewhere in the distance. "It was already dead when I found y-."
Öll er þakin ísi jörð,
ekki séð á holtabörð
fleygir fuglar geta,
fleygir fuglar geta...
It felt as if only a moment had passed when he opened his eyes. Now he could move, but something was holding him back and in a moment of panic he almost elbowed Iceland in the ribs.
"Shhh. It was just a dream. And it's just me here, sleep some more."
Norway let out a long breath and didn't even care that he leaned heavily on Iceland.
"Where's my clothes?"
"Drying."
"My horse?"
"Dead."
"Oh."
For a while they sat in silence. Iceland asked him a few times if he wasn't feeling sleepy but Norway couldn't even reply. That had been a good horse, he tried to rationalize his feelings. It had been with him for a while. Horses were valuable, anyone would feel saddened by the loss of one... he found himself thinking of not wanting to get a new one and shook his head a bit. That - that kind of thoughts were illogical, he thought and rubbed his eyes. He tried to keep his voice as steady as he could.
"Guess it's a feast time for the ravens tonight."
"You can thank them I found you in time and you didn't end up as the main course."
Iceland was quiet for a while before he continued.
"I was wondering what was making them gather by the river at that hour. That's why I went there and fished you out in the nick of time. Did you try to cross the river on ice?"
"No... but the bridge fell under the horse." Norway found his memories of the previous day were returning. "The whole downstream side of it fell down and I went with it. Shame about the horse, I had known it for years."
Norway sighed and went on.
"That song you were singing earlier... could you sing it again?"
"The raven song?" Now Iceland sounded like he was trying to select his words very carefully. "Are you sure? It's... it's about ravens trying to - trying to find food. In the winter."
"That's fine. Ravens are ravens, everything alive must eat."
Iceland cleared his throat and began to sing quietly in the darkness of the house. Norway was beginning to feel sleepy again.
Krunk, krunk, nafnar, komið hér,
krunk, krunk, því oss búin er
krás á köldu svelli, krás á köldu svelli.
Author: kainoliero
Prompt: Norway, Iceland - Song - (1700s or 1500s)
Other characters: -
Rating: G
Content notes: based around an Icelandic folk song Krummavísur, The Raven's Song. You can find the song here: https://youtu.be/tq4seuBFxIM. The fic is set in early 1800's.
Summary: Ravens aren't evil, they're just ravens doing raven things. If you fall through the ice the raven thing is - obviously - to see if you'll soon become the next meal for them.
Translation of the song used:
A raven slept in a rock-rift
On a cold winter's night
Many are the things that can harm him.
Before the beautiful day set
he dragged his frozen nose
From underneath a large rock.
"Everything outside is frozen
There's nothing to find at the shore
I'm only filled with hunger.
Everything's covered in ice
Not a food table anywhere
Full-fledged birds can fly far.
Krunk krunk! Other ravens, come here!
Krunk krunk! For us is ready
A feast on cold ice!"
Krummavisur
Krummi svaf í klettagjá,
kaldri vetrarnóttu á,
verður margt að meini
verður margt að meini...
It felt as if only a moment had passed when he opened his eyes. The sun was so bright he could barely keep them open without squinting, which made no sense because it was the dead of winter and quite late in the day. He heard the sound of large birds, their feet and wings, drawing nearer to him somewhere above and nearby on the snowy bank and that managed to annoy him enough that he tried once more to pull himself up. He would not end up as raven food if he could still fight it. The sunlight was so wonderful though, so warm, so inviting... the sounds were beginning to fade away and Norway let go, slowly, closed his eyes and drifted along the stream, and the last thing he knew was a piece of ice knocking him softly to the side of his head.
...Fyrr en dagur fagur rann,
freðið nefið dregur hann
undan stórum steini,
undan stórum steini...
It felt as if only a moment had passed when he opened his eyes. For a while he had no idea where he was or why he was, possibly even who he was, and for some reason he fleetingly thought of ravens. The birds were pushed aside by another, nagging one, that said everything was not only fine but that he should really know more than he was thinking he did. He tried to have a look at the room he was now in in the dim light, but there was barely anything to see, just a solitary candle, worn down tools and a few pieces of furniture of the Icelandic variety -
Ah.
He tried to move but all of his limbs were ignoring his will. He couldn't even turn his head, and now he realized he was shaking of cold. This was strange because he was obviously lying down in a bed and not only covered by an unusually heavy pile of blankets but something else as well, sheep skins judging by the smell. His mind was still groggily trying to kick itself back into shape and now it alerted him to the sounds around him, a quick pattering of someone moving around in soft shoes. He thought of ravens again and mused that he must have mistaken this sound for their wings.
A shadow fluttered in front of the light for a while, humming quietly to itself:
"Allt er frosið úti gor, ekkert fæst við ströndu mor, svengd er metti mína..."
The room was so dark he hadn't realized this other person had been there the whole time, busying himself somewhere in the shadows, but, Norway thought, that mattered little because he already had a good idea who it might be. He tried to say something but his body was rebelling him still and all that came out was a half sigh, half grunt.
"Oh, you're alive?"
No doubt about it, Norway thought. He tried again and this time managed a feeble hello.
"I've warmed up some soup for you. If you can sit up you should drink some."
Norway stared quietly into the darkness above him, trying to push black-feathered wings out of his mind and feverishly hoping he could move. Warm soup sounded good, besides it didn't do to be so helpless. Somewhere at the end of the bed Iceland was looking at him expectantly and here he was, unable to do anything at all.
Iceland bent over him for a moment and placed something - by the sound of it one of those lidded, wooden bowls of his - on a shelf above the bed. He stepped out of his shoes and hastily took off his shirt. Pushing the blankets aside he lifted Norway up to a sitting position, sat behind him so that they both ended up halfway lying and sitting against the headboard of the bed. He still felt cold and lying on Iceland felt almost painful the same way hot water feels painful on frozen hands, but at the same time he welcomed the pain. It meant he was not dead yet.
Behind him Iceland reached over his head and grabbed the wooden bowl again. He propped it on the blankets and began to feed him, slowly and clumsily, not really judging the whereabouts of Norway's mouth that well. He also seemed to be trembling in a weird, suppressed manner. Norway tried to will his hands to move enough so he could at least take over (and if possible at all, knock the laughter out of Iceland) but alas, today nothing seemed to go the way he wished. He gave up and ate in morose silence until his eyelids began to feel heavy again.
"Sorry about the horse", Iceland was saying somewhere in the distance. "It was already dead when I found y-."
Öll er þakin ísi jörð,
ekki séð á holtabörð
fleygir fuglar geta,
fleygir fuglar geta...
It felt as if only a moment had passed when he opened his eyes. Now he could move, but something was holding him back and in a moment of panic he almost elbowed Iceland in the ribs.
"Shhh. It was just a dream. And it's just me here, sleep some more."
Norway let out a long breath and didn't even care that he leaned heavily on Iceland.
"Where's my clothes?"
"Drying."
"My horse?"
"Dead."
"Oh."
For a while they sat in silence. Iceland asked him a few times if he wasn't feeling sleepy but Norway couldn't even reply. That had been a good horse, he tried to rationalize his feelings. It had been with him for a while. Horses were valuable, anyone would feel saddened by the loss of one... he found himself thinking of not wanting to get a new one and shook his head a bit. That - that kind of thoughts were illogical, he thought and rubbed his eyes. He tried to keep his voice as steady as he could.
"Guess it's a feast time for the ravens tonight."
"You can thank them I found you in time and you didn't end up as the main course."
Iceland was quiet for a while before he continued.
"I was wondering what was making them gather by the river at that hour. That's why I went there and fished you out in the nick of time. Did you try to cross the river on ice?"
"No... but the bridge fell under the horse." Norway found his memories of the previous day were returning. "The whole downstream side of it fell down and I went with it. Shame about the horse, I had known it for years."
Norway sighed and went on.
"That song you were singing earlier... could you sing it again?"
"The raven song?" Now Iceland sounded like he was trying to select his words very carefully. "Are you sure? It's... it's about ravens trying to - trying to find food. In the winter."
"That's fine. Ravens are ravens, everything alive must eat."
Iceland cleared his throat and began to sing quietly in the darkness of the house. Norway was beginning to feel sleepy again.
Krunk, krunk, nafnar, komið hér,
krunk, krunk, því oss búin er
krás á köldu svelli, krás á köldu svelli.