Gwynnyth and Eirik had decided to join one of the trading expeditions. While it was unusual for a woman to accompany the men on such a journey, Gwynnyth was stout of heart and mind, and was rather difficult to sway when she had a mind set. This was how they found themselves on the high seas.

The squall seemed to come from nowhere. One moment the Viking ship was under full sail and in the next moment the ship was floundering. It was all they could do to keep the ship from sinking. An extraordinarily large set of tremendous swells swept over the vessel. Three of the Vikings were swept over board.

The icy water stung at their skin. It was as if small needles were pricking their entire bodies. They flailed at the water in an attempt to remain afloat. Their comrade had managed to find a large barrel that had gone overboard with them. Eirik and Gwynnyth struggled to get a hold of another barrel that had remained near by. As they threw their bodies over the barrel they could hardly see the fellow Viking in the distance. Gwynnyth screamed to him and he seemed to understand. With all of their might Eirik and Gwynnyth managed to maneuver their barrel next to the other. They immediately recognized one of their Viking elders. Known as Graybeard, Eirik had served under this noble warrior. Again they struggled for their lives, yet this time it was not on the battlefield. Using their belts, they managed to lash the two barrels together. The two barrels allowed the three Vikings to remove themselves almost completely from the water. It was freezing cold, but it was bearable.

The trio of Vikings looked as far as the eye could see. The swells were still very high, but even at the crest of the waves; there was no ship to be seen. The seas were so high and treacherous that they didn't even know if they had been missed. They would have to survive on their own.

Many hours passed and finally the seas subsided and the sun began to shine. To their relief they could see land and it was not very distant. They dropped their bodies into the water and they began to kick their barrels to shore. Fortunately, the tide seemed to be with them. As they got closer to shore, they could see that the tide had brought some of the ships contents that had gone over board. They hoped that maybe a skin of water or other foodstuff had washed ashore and was still palatable. Completely exhausted, the Vikings had finally abandoned their barrels and waded through the heavy surf to shore.

Eirik awoke to the sound of voices. The sand was scratching his face and making it hard to breathe. As he rolled his face over he could see the men standing nearby. They quickly told the Viking that they meant him no harm and that they were to offer aid. Eirik arose and saw his lady Gwynnyth beginning to stir as well. She staggered to her feet and went to her husband. Eirik and one of the strangers helped the Gray one to his feet. Graybeard was in very bad shape. He could walk but not without the help of the two men. The men stated that their village was nearby and that all of the group should return there to rest and to tell the entire village the tale of how they found themselves on the beach.

The Vikings almost drained the skin of water that the strangers offered them. They had charred meat that they carried with them that was strongly spiced and tasted very good. They also had a very sweet liquid with them that was very potent. It was a pale green color and it did not seem to be fermented. This brief meal seemed to rejuvenate Eirik & Gwynnyth but the Gray one's ailments were more than the even the strange liquid could cure. As the group plodded to the village, Eirik hoped that it wasn't far.

Eirik examined the two men that were aiding them. They both were dressed in the same manner. They wore almost entirely black. Their tunics were trimmed in silver. The device, which they carried on their shields, was that of two large stone castles with a crescent moon. They also carried short swords at their belts and the shadows on their faces were painted black. This painting gave them a rather ferocious look although their actions did not provide any clue to their ferocity. The taller of the two men had a cord around his shoulder. He appeared to have a role superior to the other man. He also wore a small gold band over his forehead. The corded man also wore an ornament that Eirik recognized. It was a decorative metal cord, somewhat like a horseshoe. Eirik had seen the Varangian guard return from Byzantine with such decorations. Certainly a man with such an adornment would be an ally instead of a foe.

As they entered the village, the taller of the two men in black called inside a nearby dwelling and a woman strode out from inside. She asked them to come inside and the Vikings gladly obliged. Her garb and stature gave her away as a Viking woman. Her adornment was certainly Viking and her stature was typical of the Norse. She was tall and beautiful, much like the lady Gwynnyth. She smiled a familiar smile at the trio and offered the Vikings cots and blankets. In no time the trio was sound asleep as the sun set over this strange land.

Eirik awoke with the pain of hunger gnawing at his gut. His mouth still had the taste of salt and his skin was gritty. The village was alive with activity as Eirik strode out of the home. The corded one was nearby. Eirik inquired about a location to bathe and he was told of the stream that ran behind the village. He was given a clean tunic to wear. It was a wool type cloth in a light gray with black trim. Eirik pondered the abundance of black. Most of the clothing he had seen had been almost entirely black with only a touch of occasional gray or silver. He was glad to bath and the warmth of the dark clean tunic felt soothing on his skin. The woolen cloth was certainly a good choice for this frigid climate.

Eirik found the corded one again near a large fire in the center of the village. As he approached, he could see that all of the warriors of the village were gathered there. The corded one gestured Eirik to take one of the wooden plank chairs. He also put his hand over his mouth in a gesture that requested his silence. Eirik sat and listened.

A very stern looking warrior had stood up and began addressing the group. He was adorned in a similar manner to the corded one though he did not appear to rank as high. He also wore a cloth from the islands across the sea. Eirik had seen this multi-colored cloth before. Gwynnyth had spoken of these men of the highlands when she told stories about her homeland. These men were great warriors though Eirik thought the odd pants design resembled a skirt far too much. The warrior also wore the Byzantine neck decor, though his was much larger than the one that the corded one possessed. The warrior spoke with great conviction as he proclaimed that the time was upon them for action. Diplomacy had failed and that this encroachment could not be tolerated. A response should be mandated and that justice should fall in a swift and sure manner. There was great applause as the warrior took his chair.

The applause died quickly as a new warrior rose. It was obvious that this warrior was their leader. He was adorned with a gold crown that slid neatly over his head, though his presence would have given his position away regardless of the crown. He thanked his people for their debate and stated that he had come to a decision. They would meet the invaders from the north the next morning. The shouts echoed through the village. The warriors would have their day on the battlefield. As the outburst died down, Gwynnyth and the Gray one approached the fire. They had stirred from the commotion and had wondered what event was transpiring. The honored lord gestured for them to join the circle and sit. The lord asked that Eirik tell his story.

Eirik told the tale of their Viking ship and how they had intended to make the small trade journey to greaten their wealth. He spoke of the horrific seas and how they wear lucky to escape with their lives. They were even more fortunate to have encountered the two men in black. Eirik expressed his gratitude for the hospitality that they had encountered. It was incredible to Eirik that these strangers would offer them so much. The least that Eirik could do was to offer his modest warrior skills to the honored Lord. The honored Lord graciously accepted his offer and instructed the corded one to equip Eirik for battle.

For the rest of the day the village was full of excitement. Weapons abounded throughout the camp as many a grinding stone was in use. Eirik noted that there were women fitting armor and inspecting their swords. The village was an assortment of warriors. Many were tall, such as the one they called the Stout of stature and heart. Some were lesser in stature, such as the wife of the highlander. She bore a long weapon with very a wicked looking hooked blade. But none of the blades looked as ominous as the one that the lord bore. It was a two handed great weapon that prevented the lord from bearing a shield. Though the manner in which the lord wielded the weapon seemed to prove that a shield would not be necessary.

The Evening approached and the feasting began. They all ate roasted meat and drank a very potent fermented pale yellow beverage. The meat filled their bellies and the liquid filled their heads. The evening of excess seemed to be a last opportunity for rejoicing as the foreboding thoughts of the battle began to approach.

The camp was still very dark as Eirik and the Gray one were stirred from their cots. The gray one hardly reacted as Eirik prodded him. It was quite apparent that the Gray one's ill health and his portion of the fermented liquid had taken their toll. He was certainly in no shape for the battlefield. Gwynnyth wrapped her arms around Eirik and spoke to him in the tongue of her homeland. Though Eirik did not speak this dialect he had learned to recognize the sounds of I love you and come back to me. She was not of the warring kind, but yet she understood the need that Eirik possessed. These men were kindred spirits and Eirik would share in their cause.

The battlefield was bleak, as it became quite apparent that the horde from the north was not surprised by this visit. There were no messages sent between the two sides and none were required. It was vivid to all that there would be bloodshed today.

The Lord stood aside as he examined his foe. His concern was focused on the group of archers that he spied hiding behind the large shields that began to form a front line. He quickly ordered his formation of the dark men to advance. His men formed a tight unit and advanced at an alarming rate. Eirik struggled to keep up, as these heavily armored men appeared oblivious to their encumbrances. The horde was surprised by the directness of this scheme. Their archers had not been prepared to fire at such close range as the black wall seemingly closed the distance as if the wall was somehow mounted on a great draft stallion. The advancing sea of black did not falter at impact and the men slammed this dark fist into the center of the horde. The horde's line faltered as the mighty shields protected the long weapons of the rear flank. Through the chaos Eirik could see the highlander and another warrior separate from the pack. The highlander blasted into opponents like the feared Berserker of Eirik's homeland. His partner stood by his side like a cat waiting to pounce on its prey. Their techniques were a startling contrast, yet the wounded and dead began to accumulate in their wake.

Eirik struggled to protect himself and the long weapons behind him. The Stout hearted one was at his side struggling along side Eirik to hold their line. Eirik felt the pain from a blow that struck at his helm. He had been fortunate that the blow had been partially slowed by the large shield that he had been given. Through the dust and clatter, he could see the Lord and his second wading through the fight. The corded one fought valiantly and helped to protect the Lord's posterior. The mighty great weapon of the Lord struck with the swift and sure justice that the highlander had beseeched. This was the last scene in Eirik's head as the blow came from seemingly nowhere. The smell of the dewy grass filled Eirik's head, as the light grew dim and the sounds of the battle faded into the distance.

It was the sound of the lady Gwynnyth's voice that roused Eirik. He struggled to focus on the warmth of those familiar tones over the tremendous ringing in his head. Eirik opened his eyes to see that his head was cradled in her lap. She was dabbing at his face with a bloodied wet cloth. The severely damaged helm that Eirik had worn was lying next to him. This helm was the only thing that had kept Eirik from the gates of Valhalla. The lady Gwynnyth helped Eirik to his feet as they began the march back to the village.

The battle had gone well. Though they had been outnumbered the Lord's quick thinking had saved the day. The horde was apparently not used to such tenacity and daring. Those that had not retreated suffered greatly at the hands of the Men in black. Though many of the dark ones were injured, their had been no deaths and no all limbs were intact.

When they returned to the village, the injured were mended and the stories began to abound. The pictures in Eirik's head were relived around the campfire as the heroics of the day were retold. Stories and ballads began to unfold as the acts of the Berserker highlander and the stealthy cat were reenacted. The saga of the corded one and the lord were revealed as well. Even mention of the Stout one and of Eirik were spoken at the fire. Though Eirik's role was modest he still smiled with pride and contentment as he heard his name mentioned. The acknowledgement seemed to make him forget about the purple and red knot on the side of head. The pale yellow fermented liquid seemed to contribute to the grin as well.

It came to pass in the days ahead that word had been brought to the village of a great ship on the nearby shore. The gray one rushed to investigate and reported that the ship was approaching the beach and that he recognized the sails of their kinsman. The trio of Vikings gathered the belongings and hastily thanked the clan from the land of the black. They were giving a heartfelt goodbye from these generous people. Eirik felt somewhat odd as he left his newly found kindred spirits. The Lord shouted his farewell as they left the camp. He declared that they were always welcome in the land of the men in black.

It was fortunate for the trio that the Captain of the Viking vessel was a seasoned Captain indeed. They had been horribly off course but he had successfully returned his ship to the region. The learned Captain knew of this dark land and had known that any survivors would be well taken care of by this clan. The gray one told the saga of the deeds that had transpired. It was agreed that the gods did surely not bless this voyage and that they should return to their homeland.

Life began to slowly return to normal in Eirik's home. Their stories were quickly forgotten in the eventful time of his Viking brethren. The lady Gwynnyth tended to their home and Eirik focused his attention on their ill-kept fields. Eirik was restless with the resumption of this routine. He found himself thinking of his kindred spirits. He pondered on the Lord and the corded one. He recalled the Berserker, the cat, and the stout one. As he saw his lady Gwynnyth, Eirik wondered if the small statured wife of the Berserker could teach the lady Gwynnyth the ways of the long pole. It was clear to Eirik what he must do.

Eirik left the fields and found his lady. The look on Eirik's face spoke to his lady without words. As always, she had heard his thoughts. It was a common occurrence between these two. They had understood each other without the benefit of a common dialect before, and they needed no shared tongue to understand this. They both missed the dark land. They had stumbled upon their true home in what seemed like a random act. Maybe this was no random act. The seas and sky had turned dark that day in what had seemed like seconds. Could this be the gods telling Eirik and Gwynnyth of a destiny that had previously been undisclosed?

Their belongings were simple and could easily be carted behind their faithful old gelding. Even the aging steed seemed to be excited with the anticipation of going to their true home. Eirik noted how natural it seemed to all of his family to make this voyage. It was as if this had been planned for them from the day that Eirik and Gwynnyth had met.

The journey was long but uneventful. What had taken days by ship, took weeks by foot. The weeks seemed short for Eirik with his lady by his side. She was always inspiring and uplifting. Eirik could not help but smile as he saw her precious smile and soothing eyes. She rubbed his back at night and tended to his blistered feet. The familiar sight of the village was a welcomed long sought after sight.

The camp was buzzing as word of their arrival spread. The mighty Lord himself greeted them as they approached the fire circle. He acknowledged them heartily and asked of their intent. Eirik proclaimed that he had found his kindred spirits in this land and that he and his family wished to dwell in the land of the men in black. The lord cautioned Eirik that this deed should not be taken lightly but that he was welcome if he chose to stay. Eirik spoke of their long journey and pointed to his daughters on the cart. He said that he had brought his entire family and that he understood the meaning of this decision. In his heart Eirik knew that he was home. The Lord declared that Eirik and his family were now part of this land and the stout one came forward. He placed a black tunic over Eirik's head and the wife of the Berserker did the same for the fair lady Gwynnyth. Eirik's smile was ear to ear as his expression seemed to mirror that of his wife. Eirik and Gwynnyth both noted each of them looked quite well in black. Their long journey had ended and they were finally home. Thus endeth the saga of how Eirik and his family came to dwell in the land of the Men in Black.