We posted a week or two ago about the great scrolls found in a Canister in Norway by Robert Hamstrangler, Norway’s greatest anthropologist and hot water blower upper that told the story of Ginger Volk.
You can read Part 1 Here; Part 2 Here; Part 3 Here and Part 4 Here
Now ’tis time for Part 5……..
THE GINGER SCROLLS – THE DEPARTURE continued……
“The lard hair boats, be our saviour!” he cried. Many hand mocked his father’s insistence on lashing lard and spare hair together into vessels three sun cycles previously, a mad eyed Karibou they called him, but now his foresight was praised for we, the remnants of the Ghingar Empire could finally set about our future with renewed vim and vigour.
“For when we sail
To far off shores
What shall we see?
What will our children say?
What will be their final word on us?
That we fled our lands, their future home
That we banished them from their destiny?
That we stole their souls?
That we gave them life?
That we gave them destiny?
That we could in our darkest hours afford them hope?
What will they say?
I hope it is kind”
And so friend, we sailed with deep tears in our hearts to witness farewell to our time and our peace. Leaving the lee of the mighty river Sallopian, for so long our source of protection we floated into the gloating Northern seas.
As we set south, the God of Ice, Rijsbergen, sent forth his messengers to guard and guide us through these a dark desolate places populated only by the ghoulish memory of drowned adventurers from time immemorial, their frozen faces etched into the ice that gaoled them.
(Oh Archangel Galleofron where are you to protect your soul keepers? We need you more than ever. Not since the time of the arrival of the Shoelace People have we sought your protective cloak and twig of justice.)(Note; Twig may in fact be sword but the lettering is unclear)
We sail in peace to new found lands
To find our loves who have left before us
We hope that we shall meet again
But even if we do not
Know that you sail with us!
Our Ice Guardians, Neeskens and Jongbloed, great slabs of ice, hewn from their Kingdom’s lands at the earliest memory, their faces etched with age and shaped by the sear of the sun and the freeze of the cold, moved south with us and slowly saw our homeland diminished. A deep, still sadness fell upon us as the distance formed between us and our home of memories and kin.
One of our number, Strik, bade us farewell and leapt to his death, honoured to be with his kin in the after world favouring their affections to those of us still alive. His choice his Way.
Upon the prow of our ships, Narwhals guided us through the disdainful water, their tusks like beacons of light in the grey murk, guiding our navigators to sail with some knowledge of where our desolate future lay.
To each side of our vessels dolphins swam as outriders, to inform and protect the flame haired of any advancing danger or destitute Huplanders who dared to do battle still.
Of which there were many.
To be continued………
