"Big brother?" Norway hummed in answer and brought the axe down on the log, easily splitting it in two equal parts. He threw both of them in the growing pile of wooden logs. Another replaced the two pieces and Norway hefted the axe over his shoulder, before glancing at his little brother with an eyebrow raised.
"Can we go to the knattleikr tournament?" he asked, "Please?" Norway brought the axe down again with a resounding tchuck.
"And I assume you want me to compete?" he said, and hung the axe on a hook under the eaves of the roof, before turning to fully face the younger boy.
"Mhm," Iceland replied with a vigorous nod.
"Very well, then" Norway said, and stretched his arms up and behind him with a groan. "We better get going then.
"After a long, arduous journey, filled with awesome magic, the most fearsome monsters and princesses to be saved, our two brave heroes finally arrive at the field on which the battle soon will be fought!" Norway chanted in his most dramatic story-teller voice. Iceland giggled.
"Nu-uh, one hero, you're my pony!"
"Ugh, fine! Our brave hero and his proud steed, better now?"
"Uhuh."
"Good. We're here, you can get off of my back now."
"But I don't wanna!"
"I can't compete with you on my back."
"Yes, you can!"
"No."
"Yes!"
"No."
"YES!" Norway dumped the little one unceremoniously onto a tussock.
"Wait here," he said, and left. The night was still dark when he left. When he came back the sun created a light blue and yellow line across the eastern horizon. "See those men over there?" he asked and pointed. "That's the team I'll play on, the one with the yellow tunic is the captain."
Iceland looked at the strangers.
"They are really big," he said, making Norway laugh.
"They are," he nodded, "I'm pretty sure we're gonna win."
The match started at sunrise, both teams were lined up, facing each other, and all heads were turned eastwards. The judge stood between the lines, holding the little wooden ball out in front of himself. At the first glimpse of the sun he threw it into the air and dashed out of the matches borders. It wouldn't do to get caught in the middle.
Norway ignored the judge's scurrying, instead he tightened his grip on the bat and rushed to catch the ball. He was intercepted by a player from the other team, and took a hit to his side, but shook it off and set after the ball again. This time he ducked under the opponent's wild swing, and leapt up to smash his own bat into some guy's head, which sent the ball straight into the hands of his own teammates. The man fell heavily, and he smiled in satisfaction.
He was absorbed by the game, body driven by adrenaline and instinct as he dealt hard, fast blows to opponents and passed the ball on to his teammates. His ribs stung a bit, and he had blood running down his face, and blood stained his clothes, but he was grinning like a madman as he weaved his way through the chaos, hitting people at random and just having fun.
The tussocks cast long shadows when the judge called the match. Norway staggered off the muddied field and sunk down beside his little brother.
"Some match, eh," he whispered, still breathing heavy, and wincing as he came down from his adrenaline high. Knattleikr was fun, but the pain afterwards was, well, a pain.
"You won!" Iceland beamed, fidgeting as if he wanted to jump the older boy and hug him, but restraining himself because of the other's injuries. Norway rolled his eyes and opened his arms.
"Oh come here, you're too light to hurt me." The younger boy's smile grew impossibly large, and he jumped onto his brother and latched onto his neck as if his life depended on it. Norway grimaced in pain, happy that Iceland couldn't see it, then schooled his expression to the stony calm he was known for.
"I love you, little brother."
"Love you too, big brother," Iceland mumbled sleepily. Norway chuckled quietly and rocked him gently to sleep, humming a calm melody.
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Translations:
Leik og moro (nor) - Games and fun
Knattleikr (norse) - Ballgame
Notes:
Knattleikr was a violent ballgame popular in Iceland, and I think it was played in the rest of the Norse nations too. Not all the rules are known, but what we know seems simple. You can play anywhere, grass, stone, ice, water, it doesn't matter. You need to place the borders of the match, and you're not allowed to step outside of those during the match. You play with two teams, each team has a captain.
The object of the game is to pass a wooden ball from teammate to teammate, and keep it away from the other team. You use a bat, an axe or something similar to hit the ball, and, since this is a contact sport, you're also allowed to hit your opponents. People died during these matches, and the law prohibited relatives from avenging these deaths. A match would usually last the entire day.
Author's note:
Late, I know. Still this stupid Writer's Block, I don't think anyone has found a cure yet. Anyway, I'll update as soon as I have anything, okay? And if you've got any requests, ideas or one-liners I could build a story around, then it'd be much appreciated.
Ta,
-Shrizyne