Surtur's Island
6th June 1967
Iceland was strolling along the beach when he saw a small figure sitting in the sand. A lost child? He'd purposely come out as early in the morning as possible so to avoid tourists. Scanning the beach quickly, he couldn't see anyone else. It was as if the child had appeared from nowhere.
The kid looked up as the young man hurried over. Iceland was shocked about the similarities in their appearances. He – or was it a she? Iceland couldn't tell – had the same violet eyes and short, messy silver hair.
"Hello!" smiled the child, standing up and brushing the sand off his clothes. Iceland was surprised again, this time by what he was wearing: a long white nightshirt, with a grey ribbon around the neck. It seemed oddly familiar, but the nation couldn't place it… "How are you today?"
"You speak Icelandic?"
"Of course I speak Icelandic," replied the kid, rolling his eyes. "What did you expect me to speak? Chinese?"
This kid couldn't be more than four years old! He must be some sort of child genius.
"What's your name?" Iceland asked, confused. The boy frowned.
"I don't have one."
"What?" This was getting way too confusing. Iceland dimly wondered whether he was going crazy. Or if he'd accidently taken some type of hallucinogen.
"Well, I only stopped growing yesterday," said the boy, fiddling with his neck-bow. "And now I'm the southernmost point of Iceland, so I think it's your job to name me."
Wait. Southernmost point of Iceland?
"You're a nation?" gaped Iceland.
"Well, not on my own. But I'm a island," added the boy, smiling cutely. Iceland resisted the urge to facepalm. Now it all made sense! The clothes, the intelligence, everything! "I was made when a underwater volcano erupted!" he said proudly.
"You want me to name you?" was all Iceland could think to say.
"Yes please!" said the boy eagerly. The older nation racked his brains. He remembered something about an island formed in a volcanic eruption, which meant fire. A fiery name would be best, decided Iceland.
"What about Surtsey?" suggested Iceland finally. "It means 'Surtur's Island'."
"Who's Surtur?" asked the boy.
"A fire giant."
"I like the name Surtsey," smiled the boy – no, his name was Surtsey.
"I'm glad," replied Iceland. Surtsey craned his neck to look up at Iceland.
"Does this mean you're my big brother now?"
Iceland froze. He was a big brother? The idea was strange, but oddly… endearing. He crouched down and patted his back, gesturing for Surtsey to climb on, which he did. In this fashion they made their way up the beach.
"Yes, I'm your big brother now. You're my little brother."
Surtsey giggled loudly.
"What's so funny?"
"You think I'm a boy?" Surtsey cried, laughing loudly.
"Yes…?" Iceland was mystified.
"I'm a girl!"
"What?" Iceland said, aghast.
"I'm a girl," clarified Surtsey. "I'm your little sister!" She dissolved into helpless laughter.
Iceland blushed at mistaking Surtsey's gender, but also that he was being ridiculed by a small child.
"It's not that funny," he grumbled.
"It is too!" replied Surtsey, fisting one of her little hands in Iceland's hair.
The childish response made Iceland crack a smile.
And so they walked along the beach, big brother and little sister together.
I love fluff~
This was inspired by my trip to the Natural History museum, where there was a whole section about Surtsey. The volcanic eruption started on November 14th 1963, and ended on June 4th 1967. Surtsey has slowly been diminishing in size ever since.
Reviews are much appreciated!