Chapter 2: Aimlessly

Erik Ironhand

They sailed past the colossal waterfall, its thunderous roar echoing in their ears, for several days but couldn't find its end. They could have returned home by now, but the navigator said home lay beyond the waterfall. However, they couldn't get through its treacherous currents and towering walls of water.

The crew grew increasingly despondent. Nobody could no longer be Odin's warriors; the end of the world had come, a dishonorable death awaited them, and they couldn't even return home. After the storm, only 24 of the 38 crew members remained. More than half of them were lost in the two massive waves. They were adrift, not just on the sea, but their sense of purpose in life was shattered.

They had once played a pivotal role in the siege of Paris, a moment of great triumph. Their ship was laden with treasures, and their sagas were filled with tales of glory waiting to be lived. The crew couldn't help but envy Sigurd, who had met an honorable death in the siege. His luck was the topic of every whispered conversation, a reminder of their loss.

They had enough food and water, and the sea would have provided abundant fish. However, only Futhark and Erik still had the will to live. The others were all broken by what had happened. It seemed like the end of the road for the crew, but Erik refused to accept that. He saw potential in their resources and ability to adapt and survive. 'We are not defeated yet. We have the strength and the skills to overcome this. We will find a way, I promise.' he speaks for himself in his mind.

Erik, the only master blacksmith among the crew, a skill that had kept him busy after battles and storms, was a symbol of resilience. His work had taught him that no weapon he forged would remain unblemished or unbroken forever. Yet, he also knew that with regular maintenance, tools became far more durable.

For this reason, he wasn't in despair because his work had already toughened his spirit. Though Erik wasn't one for many words, his practical wisdom as a blacksmith was well-known among the crew. "What is chipped can be sharpened, broken can be reforged, and lost can be forged anew."

Still, no one was surprised when the taciturn Erik addressed the broken crew on the third day. When everyone had given up on returning home, on the desire for glory, and on the meaning of life. He ran his hand through his tightly braided beard and spoke to his despairing comrades, his voice filled with a mix of determination and hope:

"Do you really want to give up now, just when we've heard the signs of Ragnarok?! Our fate now depends solely on us, so why despair? I refuse to let this be the end of our story. We will find a way together."

Erik walked to the bow of the ship and stopped. He lifted his gaze to the seemingly endless waterfall, further infuriating Harald, who leaned to his right against the railing. Haakon, also hidden in the shadow of the bow, sat with crossed arms, murmuring the names of his lovers as he gazed at the tip of his foot.

The sun was setting, but the world of the crew was already darker than the depths of the sea at night. Harald, his face bruised and bloodied, couldn't contain himself and struck Erik's chest with his fist. Holding onto his ribs, Erik turned to face him. With experienced eyes, Ivar could see that the blow had broken at least two ribs. It wasn't surprising; the crew's chief warrior was the most dangerous figure on the deck, a true berserker. It was wise to avoid his boar-crested helmet in battles. "Didn't you see how we ended up here?" the berserker shouted at the blacksmith. "The gods have abandoned us! They didn't protect us! We'll never be worthy of entering the hall of Valhalla!"

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"The gods were never truly with us, Harald. Perhaps because they never deemed us worthy of the hall. But we've been through many adventures and battles TOGETHER. Remember when we faced the sea beast of Rán in the North or when we raided the stronghold of the wind sellers in the East? Yes, together."

"Of course," spat Leif. "You want to say that there's a bond stronger among us than with the gods. Look at us!" With this statement, he leaped up from the deck floor and pointed at the crew individually. He stopped at the young Sven and a few other recruits. "They've only just joined us! And we've only survived because HE was with them!" He pointed to Futhark, who stood beside Sven and studied his wooden shield's runes. He wasn't bothered by being mentioned; he calmly awaited the outcome. Erik's words had stirred something in the crew, a glimmer of hope amidst the despair.

"Erik, I hate to say this, but Leif is right," Helga stood under the ship's mast.

"Captain, when we faced that massive wave, it was I who saved you from falling overboard," Erik spoke from the front of the ship next to the captain. "It wasn't magic; it was me, your comrade. We are all comrades and brothers here and now. If we stick together, we might even survive Ragnarok." Erik's words resonated with a sense of unity and shared purpose, reminding the crew of the strength they derived from their camaraderie.

A mocking laughter came from the other end of the ship in response. It was Ingrid, the crew's seer. "I know every saga of Ragnarok, and I can safely say that they only speak of two surviving humans, and neither of them is among us!"

"Do the sagas mention anything about this waterfall?" Erik gestured behind him. In response, the seer shook her head, which lifted everyone's spirits. "If this waterfall isn't in the sagas, then there are things yet undetermined. We still have a chance to change the sagas! To discover new values in life!" Erik's words carried a glimmer of hope, urging the crew to embrace the unknown and find a new purpose in their journey.

"Values?" Sigrun asked painfully. "For Vikings, it's always about battle being THE only value! That's all I've seen from every Norseman in my life. You've all enjoyed the heat of battles! And I hate it! I hoped that one day you would change, but now that the opportunity is here, all you do is complain and mourn lost glory. Pathetic, I thought you were better than this." Her words cut deep into the hearts of the majority. Harald was already storming towards her with clenched fists, but Olaf stood in his way.

"Strength only responds to strength, Harald," the giant grumbled. "We'd better have a drink while the others sort this out. We're not going anywhere until this is over."

So, the two most combative crew members sat down and drank. They no longer paid attention to the conversation. Olaf liked Harald, not because they were equally strong, but because they could both set aside anything for a drink. When the two of them started drinking, nothing and no one could disturb them until they finished.

Erik pondered deeply. The wind gently stirred the ship's sail, catching Ingrid's attention as a portentous warning. "It's time for us to set sail," she said.

"But where to?" several shouted one after another.

"The land of the Picts is quite close, and it's not beyond the waterfall," Gunnar replied indifferently, lying on top of the mast. It seemed he had long made peace with the situation; Freyja wouldn't have expected anything less from him. The navigator's assistant, who knew Gunnar better than anyone, also found solace in this fact.

"Maybe we missed Ragnarok," Erik said slowly, "but we're still Vikings. We have the same warrior's heart that will never forsake our comrades. Even if the gods have abandoned us, let us not abandon each other."

With that, Erik walked over to Helga and placed his hand on her shoulder, whispering something only she heard. The fire flared up in the captain's eyes, and he renewed hope in everyone with a few words. Although everything had changed, they knew something new was beginning, which might be even more valuable than the lost glory.