Warning: excessive use of patriotic songs and poems
Freedom and Unity
1778
Norway was walking through the streets of Copenhagen when he heard singing from a pub. Now, if he wanted to hear drunken singing he would just go home to Denmark, but there was something different about this… He felt drawn to the sound like a moth to a flame, hopefully he would not burn when he found the source.
He went to stand close to the door, and felt his eyes slide shut when he heard the words. The text was in danish, but though a bit slurred it was sung in a noticeable norwegian accent.
"...faae Blod paa Tand, ...taste blood on our teeth,
Vi sødt om Frihed drømme; We sweetly of liberty dream;
Dog vaagne vi vel op engang Though we will someday wake up
Og bryde Lænker, Baand og Tvang; And break chains, ties and force;
For Norge, Kjæmpers Fødeland, For Norway, birthplace of warriors,
Vi denne Skaal udtømme! We this toast will empty!
His eyes widened and he backed away from the place before turning and speed-walking away. That was dangerously close to treason. He should not - no! He did absolutely not like the song.
Later that evening he went back to the same pub, they were still singing the same song. This time he did not leave until it ended.
17 of May, 1814
The room was far too stuffy with formal men clad in their best sunday clothes. It was a glorious day and he nearly sighed in longing, he really wished he could be out there, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin and the gentle caress of the breeze in his hair. Someone spoke and he turned from the window to pay attention to the meeting. This was important.
He watched as his people, his and only his, wrote the document. A strange feeling came over him. One that he had almost forgotten, he had kept a shadow of it because he was too stubborn to let it go entirely, but this time it was real. It was pride. Pride and satisfaction. He was free. Finally free. Finally his own and no one else's.
Oh, he would have to fight for this privilege, he knew that. He was also starving. His people were dying of starvation and disease. He did not have weapons to arm his soldiers and he did not have any allies. He was preparing to fight a war he had no chance of winning. A sudden urge to grin overtook him, but he quickly fought it down. He hurt so much, and he looked forward to inflicting the same kind of pain onto the swede.
But in that moment, on that glorious day, he was shaking hands with his people listening to their excited chatter and ignoring his jutting ribs, sickly pallor and the weakness in his arms and legs. It was a day to celebrate.
1820
Sønner af Norges det ældgamle Rige, Sons of Norway kingdom old as fire,
Sjunger til Harpens den festlige Klang! Sings to the celebratory sound of harps!
Mandigt og høitidfuldt Tonen lad stige, Manly and solemnly the melody rise,
Fædrenelandet innvies vor Sang. Our song is to the fatherland dedicated.
Fædreneminder herligt oprinder, Ancestor's memories great are remembered,
Hvergang vi nævne vor Fædrenestavn. Each time we mention our ancestral home.
Svulmende Hjerter og glødende Kinder, Proud hearts and glowing cheeks,
Hylde det elskte, det hellige Navn. A tribute to the beloved, the sacred name.
Norway almost laugh. He does not, he would not know how, but he feels like laughing. It is written in Danish, sort of, but it is still so Norwegian he can feel it in his bones. The words bleeds patriotism, the paper itself seems to ooze nationalism. This is apparently his first national anthem, not officially, but it is more official than that drinking song…
1828
"What?" Norway asked, he had gone strangely still and his voice were a bit choked. Sweden sighed.
"You can't celebrate 17th of May." The smaller blonde did not meet his eyes, instead choosing to stare at the wall over his left shoulder.
"...Why?" What have I done wrong? That was the question he really asked, and the question Sweden heard.
"Karl Johan says it's a provocation towards me and him." This time Norway did look up. His eyes met Sweden's and the taller nation found himself slightly intimidated by the fire in his eyes.
Norway opened his mouth as if to speak, but changed his mind and closed it again. With a last glance at Sweden he turned and walked away with determined steps, back straight and head held high. He was the image of stubborn pride and haughty confidence, but that was not the reason why Sweden stood as if rooted to the ground beneath his feet. No, he had been frozen by the one last glance Norway had sent him. Disappointment. His neighbor was not raging, he was not crying. He was disappointed. Disappointed in Sweden. And somehow it made him feel like a little child who had been chastised for doing something he knew he shouldn't have done.
17 of May, 1828
Norway had been prepared to spend the day in the lonely darkness of his locked house, but the cruel world had decided that this was the day when he would find his lovely house completely empty of coffee. When he set out on his quest to gather the elixir of life he was approached by a mysterious stranger - oh, never mind, it was just his overactive imagination trying to distract him from… Anyways! A group of little children came running towards him and flocked around him filling the air with their excited chatter and innocent laughter. He looked at his future and felt calmer.
"Hey Uncle! Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!" they yelled dancing around him as if he was a christmas tree.
"What is it?" he asked in an exasperated tone, though he knelt down to tickle the neighbors son to show that he really didn't mind them.
"Uncle, Mamma told me to tell you that a ship is coming in today and she wants you to be there and we are getting everyone and we need to dress in our best Sunday clothes and she told us to bring flags because we are going to wave them and - HEY LARSEN!" and then the children were off to bother someone else.
Which meant he needed to get his best clothes and a flag before embarking on the walk down to the docks. Through the densely populated centre of Kristiania. Without coffee. The world was conspiring against him. Well, he better get on with it, fru Cecilia was not a woman you wanted to defy.
The crowd around him were all dressed up and clutching flags in their hands. His flag. His flag without the Herring Salad*. Excited chatter filled the air and the noise of the gathering made the air itself heavy, ad if he had to filter the words from the air to breath properly. He was annoyed, and warm and tired and he had still not gotten his coffee. Sighing he went to find somewhere to sit.
He looked up when to crowds cheers got to loud to ignore. A ship was on its way in and he was about to look away when he saw it. It was right there, painted in gold on both sides of the bow. 'Grunnloven' was the name of the ship and a smile tugged at his lips before it quickly disappeared. And his people, bless them, were cheering and yelling hurrahs. Norway stood up and waved his flag once, tentatively. Then he jumped down into the mass of people and joined them as they made a joined effort;
"Hurrah!
Hurrah!
Hurrah!
Hurrah for the Constitution!" For it was indeed 'the Constitution' that had returned to her homeport that 17th of May.
Sweden later lectured him and gave him house-arrest in Sweden's own mansion outside of Stockholm. In Norway an anti-demonstration law was soon passed. But the expression on Sweden's face when he had told him that it was in no way planned, and that he in reality had just welcomed home a ship, had been worth it all.
He still thought so when Sweden let him out two years later.
17 of May, 1841
The little boys marched in neat lines, and one of their fathers walked first with the flag. Their high voices sounded clear above the men's as they joined in the song.
"Vi ere en Nation vi med, We are a nation we too,
vi Smaa, en Alen lange: we small, an armlength long:
et Fædreland vi frydes ved; a fatherland we take joy in;
og Vi Vi ere mange. and we are many.
Vort Hjerte veed, vort Øje seer, Our hearts know, our eyes can see,
hvor godt og vakkert Norge er, how good and beautiful Norway is,
vor Tunge kan en Sang blandt fleer our tongue knows a song among many
af Norges Æressange. of song to Norway's honour."
1863
The food stood forgotten on the table, the door was left open. A chest was emptied and the owner was out. You wouldn't have to go far to find him, but it was a dangerous climb up onto the cliff where he sat. He did not do anything special, he just sat there. Staring, staring at the ocean. The waves crashing against the sheer cliffs hundreds of meters below him. He was clad in strange clothes. Old-fashioned, ancient even. A blue tunic over a pair of brown trousers, he had bare feet but a pair of leather boots were neatly placed an arm-length behind him. He was sitting with his legs criss-crossed at the very edge, and a sword rested in his lap. His eyes were glazed and he was lost in memories of times long passed.
Back in his house, on the table beside the cooling soup was a piece of paper with fine hand-writing.
'Millom Bakkar og Berg ut med Havet 'Between slopes and berg out by the ocean
heve Nordmannen fenget sin Heim, has the Norwegian secured his home,
der han sjølv hever Tufterna gravet there he dug the tufts himself
og sett sjølv sine Hus uppaa deim.' and built by himself his house on top of them.'
17 of May, 1864
Norway stood under the spring-green trees of Eidsvoll. It was the same day and the same place. Even the celebratory crowd seemed the same. 50 years. A long time for a human, nothing to him. It was a bitter-sweet celebration. He did not have the independent freedom he had wanted, it was better, but not yet enough. Still, it felt good to celebrate the day knowing that it probably would not lead to war.
A solemn hush fell over the crowd, and all took of their hats in an almost synchronized movement. He nearly blushed as they sung the first stanza, he always did.
"Ja, vi elsker dette landet Yes, we love this country
Som det stiger frem, as it rises forth,
furet , værbitt over vannet, rugged, weathered above the water,
Med de tusen hjem. With the thousand homes.
Elsker, elsker det og tenker Love, love it and think
På var far og mor, of our father and mother
Og den saganatt som senker and the night of legend that lowers
Drømme på vår jord. Dreams upon our earth."
It went on and on, all the eight verses. The crowd joined in and warmth blossomed in Norway's heart.
1878
It was the first thing he saw when he opened the paper. The headline:
"Gud signe Noregs land, God bless Norway's land."
He had to read it. Of course he did.
"Gud signe Noregs Land, God bless Norway's land,
kvar Heim, kvar Dal og Strand, each home, each valley and beach,
kvar Lund og Lid. each grove and slope.
Han lat' det aldri døy, He never let it die,
han verje Bygd og Øy, He guard village and island,
han verje Mann og Møy, He guard man and maiden,
til evig Tid. forever."
1924
"Det blånar av fjord; det kvitnar av foss; The blue of the fjord; the white waterfall;
Det glødar av sol i vårt flagg. The glowing sun in our flag.
Og det tonar så vent frå den blakrande And it tones so gently from the fluttering
kross cross
Over folket som stri'r i dag. Over the people who work hard today.
Kvart lukkeleg smil, kvar tåre som fell Each happy smile, each tear that fell
Det speglar mot himmelen av. It mirrors in the sky.
Det helsar vell møtt; det kviskrar farvel; It greets well met; it whispers fare well;
Det signar til sist vår grav. It blesses in the end our grave."
Norway looked at the lyrics again and picked up his violin.
1941
He was in Kongsberg at the time, that summer day, when someone had shoved a piece of paper into his pocket. He knew better than to take it out, and he continued on his merry way without looking around. Not until he sat down in the little room he had borrowed at an old widow's house did he take out the slip of paper.
It was white, a little flag was drawn in one corner. An illegal pamphlet. Curious finger smoothened the paper against the floor. 'Red, white and blue' the caption read.
"Hvorhen du går i li og fjell, Wherever you go in slope and mountain,
en vinterdag, en sommerkveld a winterday, a summernight
med fjord og fossevell, with fjord and waterfall,
fra eng og mo med furutrær from meadow and hill with pine trees
fra havets bryn med fiskevær from ocean's edge with fishing villages
og til de hvite skjær, and to the white reefs,
møter du landet i trefarvet drakt, meet you the land clad in tricolored robes,
svøpt i et gjenskinn av flaggets farveprakt. wrapped in the glare of the colors of the flag.
Se, en hvitstammet bjerk oppi heien, Look, a white-trunked birch in the moor,
rammer stripen med blåklokker inn frame the strip of bluebells in
mot den rødmalte stuen ved veien, against the red-painted cabin by the road,
det er flagget som vaier i vind. that's the flag waving in the wind.
Ja, så hvit som det hvite er sneen, Yes, the white is white as the snow,
og det røde har kveldssolen fått, and the red was given to the evening sun,
og det blå ga sin farve til breen, and the blue gave it's colour to the glacier,
det er Norge i rødt, hvitt og blått. That is Norway in red, white and blue."
It is decided then, he thought, I won't ever give up.
17 of May, 2015
It was a windy day. The sun was shining, children were laughing and people milled around with ice cream and flags in their hands. Smiles adorned all faces and congratulations were given and received. The crowd stilled a bit and disappeared from the road when the parade came.
"Her kommer vi unge i flokk, flokk, flokk! Here come we young in a herd, herd, herd!
Av mot og av sanger har vi nok, nok, nok! Of courage and of songs we've got enough
Vi våren vil prise og gamle Norge vise, Spring we'll praise and let old Norway see,
Her kommer vi unge i flokk, flokk, flokk!" Here come we young in a herd, herd, herd!
All is good that ends well, Norway thought as he watched some kindergarteners march past him. They held onto ropes to keep the lines a tiny flag clutched in the other, and each row of tiny little children was followed by a parent on each side. But this is not the end. Methinks that 'All is well when all is good' holds just as much truth.
He spent the rest of the day with his family, his brother-by-blood, his brothers-in-battle and … Finland would probably be his brother-in-law, minus the law-part as they were not married. They celebrated Norway's birthday until nine o'clock, when the flag was lowered and rolled. Then they went inside to eat a simple dinner and go to bed.
The next day they would wake to find coffee and a simple but delicious breakfast. It was Norway's way of thanking them for being his family.
17 of May, 2016
He woke at six o'clock. A fast shower later and he stood bare-feet in his kitchen, waiting for the coffee to be ready. In forty about minutes or so he would raise the flag. Then he would go for a walk, watch the city wake up and the Children's Parade when it started. Later the other Nordics would come, and they would celebrate his birthday together. Just like they did last year. And the year before that. And the one before that one. And the one before that. They had celebrated the 17th of May together since the midlle of the 70's, not always at the same location, but always in the same manner. Traditions, however new, comforted him. He did not want excitement, at least not all the time, sometimes he'd rather have the safety of familiarity.
But all that came later. Right now he would enjoy his coffee in the peace and quiet of his own home.
-:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:-
Author's Note
I finished two of my subjects this week, so I only have ⅔ of the schoolyear left. I'm optimistic. This also means that I have more time for writing, so lucky you (hopefully, no promises though).
Translations:
All are translated in the chapter.
I have translated everything myself, if you spot any errors, please inform me.
History lesson:
If you missed it, the 17th of May is Norway's Constitution Day.
There are several historical years here, but I think those are explained in the chapter… Oh, yes:
*Herring Salad- derogatory nickname for the Swedish-Norwegian Union flag. The name was used on both sides of the border. It was named for the popular dish 'Sildesalaten'. This dish was as colourful as the flag and was popular in both countries, it is also named the same in both languages.
And that's it.
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Gratulerer med Dagen,
Shrizyne