A man is coming down the road towards you. He is very tall, with dark blonde hair reaching down to at least his shoulders. You can hear him singing from far away.
When he notices you, his singing stops. He waves, and calls from the distance.
“Well met, fellow travelers, whoever you be!”
- You wave back.
- You wait and see.
“Olvir’s my name, what’s yours?!” he spreads his arms with an elaborate gesture and gives you a warm smile.
- You introduce yourselves.
- You look at him somewhat astounded.
He gives three short but sharp claps with his hands.
“Pleased, pleased! Let us utilize this beautiful spot of countryside together for a resting place…”
- “Let’s not, we’re in a hurry.”
- “Yes, great idea! We’re weary, too.”
“Whatever you wish, I do not care, but let me offer you a pleasant journey!”
“And the same to you,” you reply before marching on.
He claps his hands three times, short but sharp.
“It is of no importance what your names are! Let us utilize this beautiful spot of countryside together for a resting place…”
You sit down together by the wayside.
“I am wandering about the countryside to bring pleasure to the folk with song and joy with the music of my lute. What brings you here?”
- “We are on the road on the Hetman’s orders.”
- “We are following Hyggelik’s trail.”
- “We are just sightseeing.”
“On the Hetman’s orders, hey oh! I have composed a little ditty about the Hetman. Hold on…” he takes his lute and begins to play.
“You are students of history? Hmm… I could perform for you my saga of Hyggelik. Do you wish to hear it?” he takes his lute and waits for your answer.
“Then you surely will enjoy a wandering song. Hasgar’s long and winding road!” he takes his lute and begins to play.
- “Listen, my man…”
- You let him play on.
- “Let’s hear it!”
- “Why don’t you just tell us what you know.”
Olvir is no marvel of abbreviation. The song starts with Hyggelik’s birth, and half an hour later, the former Hetman has just reached his 12th birthday.
Another half hour later, Hyggelik is just gathering the crew for his legendary sea journey south. There is talk about one Trutzke, one Bryda Lingardsdotter…
A full hour later, Olvir has finally reached Charypso. Now he describes in detail, how Hyggelik’s crew conquered and pillaged the city.
Another full hour later, Hyggelik finally marches north into the Orcish Lands, and the song ends with the charming line: “No one knows what happened further…”
- You applaud.
- You nod.
He sets down his lute and looks at you with an angry expression on his face.
“You have no sense of the finer arts, have you?! I do not appreciate being disturbed in my performance!”
Then, he takes up his lute again and continues.
Olvir appears extremely annoyed. After your second rude interruption, he takes his lute and storms off without saying another word.
You are left at the roadside and continue on your way a while later.
“No, no. Why do you object against my playing the lute? Everything I know is formed to song!” he takes up his lute and starts to play.
The song takes a full hour just to reach Tronde’s coming of age.
After introducing Tronde’s entire family in a procession of side plots, Olvir returns to Tronde’s history one hour later.
Another half hour later, Tronde has finally become Hetman, and the song offers a bright future with the line: “Yes, onward to glory at the Hetman’s side we march”.
Guess, you’ll have to wait another half hour, while Olvir speculates about the future heroics of Hetman Tronde, quite obviously improvising the whole time.
“Hold it, hold it. It’s too early. You haven’t heard the end of it yet.” the bard resumes playing.
A joyful song, plastered with jokes, is offered for your enjoyment. Hasgar’s road begins in Prem, where his mother sees him off with the words “Walk right back”. One hour later, Hasgar — with a few detours — has reached Thorwal and gets a job aboard a ship.
Half an hour later, the crew of the “Wild Rover”, anchoring in Tuzak harbor, sings the lovely old song “I’d cross the wild ocean”, before setting sail.
Hasgar’s travels end another half hour later where they began. In his home town he joins old friends at the dragon house and joins in a rousing chorus of “Fire down below”, thus ending the ballad.
“I have heard about you. You are trying to find Hyggelik’s sword. I know something that might be of help to you.”
“Well then, I have kept you for far too long already. You must journey on so that your adventures shall provide me with new material for my songs.”
He gathers his belongings, gives you a friendly good bye, and walks away.
“Students of history? I could perform for you my saga of Hyggelik. Do you wish to hear it?” he takes his lute and waits for your answer.
“I have composed a little ditty about the hetman. Hold on…” he takes his lute and looks over to you.
“Then you surely will enjoy a wandering song. Hasgar’s long and winding road!” he takes his lute and looks over to you.
- “Let go of it, we are weary.”
Asgrimm Thurboldsson
A young lad with short brown hair is chopping wood in front of the house. When he sees you, he drops the hatchet and comes running over to greet you.
After knocking at the door a number of times, you are forced to admit there’s no one at home.
“Hello! Are you coming to see me? I’m Asgrimm Thurboldsson…”
- “Just the fellow we came to see.”
- “Yes, we come on the Hetman’s orders.”
“Really! How grand! I hardly ever get visitors. Please do come in.”
On your mentioning the Hetman, the lad’s eyes grow round.
“Tronde has sent you to me of all men? Now, if that isn’t some honor! Do come in.”
- “No, no, we just have a few questions.”
- “It’s bad form to dismiss an invitation.”
“Please…” he looks at you with a beseeching expression, almost like he’s begging. You feel forced to accept his invitation after all.
Asgrimm does his level best to prove he’s a good host. It is quite clear that Travia’s blessing is upon him. After offering you some stew, he gets some cups and a jug for a round of home brew and for the first time since you have entered the house, he finds time to sit down with you.
“You’re interested in my great-great-grandfather, aren’t you?”
- “Actually, we’re more interested in Hyggelik.”
- “Could be. That depends…”
“Aaaah, that’s more or less the same thing. You know, my ancestor was the only survivor of the expedition that Hyggelik led into the Orcish Lands.”
“You’ll be surprised. See, my ancestor was the only survivor of the expedition that Hyggelik led into the Orcish Lands.”
“Yes! They came up to Phexcaer and even beyond there, they did! And my great-great-grandfather was the only one who survived, even the old Hyggelik himself bought it that day…”
“No, no! I know what you’re going to say — but he was no coward! My great-great-grandfather was no coward! I can even prove it! No coward would risk his neck to bring back booty from the orcs…”
He disappears into another room and returns with a small decorated chest which he empties onto the table. There are a few ancient gold coins, a medallion and a strange wrought-iron thing, festooned with feathers, that looks vaguely like a coronet.
“An orc chieftain’s crown!” he proclaims proudly.
“Ol’ Asgrim himself knocked it off the head of the chief blackfur!”
- “A true hero, your great-great-grandfather!”
- “And Hyggelik?”
“I should say so!” Asgrimm sits up straighter, lifting his chin, as if it had been he himself who killed the orc chieftain.
“Old Hyggelik was killed before ol’ Asgrim could do anything to help. All the of others fell victim to the onslaught of orcs and in the end, ol’ Asgrimm was the only one left standing. Yes, that’s the way things were in the Orcish Lands!”
“Old Hyggelik met his end while standing right beside him. Before ol’ Asgrim could do anything, the entire army fell under the knives of the orcs. In the end, ol’ Asgrimm was the only one left standing. Yes, that’s the way things were in the Orcish Lands!”
- “And then?”
- “What else do you know about Hyggelik?”
“Ol’ Asgrimm fought his way home, all alone…”
“Hyggelik, everyone just keeps talking about Hyggelik all the time, and no one mentions ol’ Asgrimm — why don’t you ask Hjore Ahrensson in Ottarje, he’s a relative of his, not me! Or that Ragna Firunjasdotter, maybe you’ll believe the people in Vidsand. Fairy tales! All they can tell you are fairy tales!” Asgrimm begins working himself into a frenzy, obviously infuriated by the amount of attention typically focused on Hyggelik.
“Well, that’s the end of the story. Asgrimm settled down here in Breida, to enjoy the peace and quiet of his later years. After all, he wasn’t that sprightly anymore. A few years later he died, but then again, we all die, heroes or not…”
“I’m afraid we’ll have to leave…”
“What a pity! Ah well, it was nice having you — do come again if you are ever in the area,” Asgrimm says.
He accompanies you to the door, obviously concerned that you leave with a good impression.
He finally manages to get a grip on himself and looks over at you sheepishly.
“Please forgive me, I do tend to lose my temper sometimes,” he says so softly that it is hardly audible.
- “Ah bah, happens to the best of us!”
“Well, I’m glad you’re not holding it against me. Can I get you some more drink?”
- “Well, just the one…”
You have another cup of Asgrimm’s home brew, before you take your leave.
“Do come in,” Asgrimm says in a friendly voice.