Special Thanks goes to
for editing this script and for providing a lot of feedback for it.This is my final post for this year’s Dragon-Month.
Hamundr
INT. CRASHING WAVES STRIKE SHORE AND LONG-SHIPS – MORNING BEFORE DAWN
The long-ships draw near to the British coasts in the dark of night, with church bells ringing in the background. We see the Vikings grinning to themselves, as they let go of the oars.
Reaching for their weapons, one of them pulls over his war-helm, looking rather frazzled and wide-eyed. Lief turns his head to look at the nervous younger Norseman, and being the captain of the ship, he take it upon himself to check in on him.
Lief
Calm down. There is nothing to fear, they are weak. Honestly, you had more to fear from the sea than this.
(In a whisper)
I promised my sister that I would bring you home whole. Just do as I do, and stay by my side.
The younger Viking nods his head several times, sucking in a breath and when the ship hits the beach, he sucks in another nervous breath and on his sword, unsheathes it.
Hámundr
(Whispering to himself)
For Father.
Shadows swirl, and war-cries around, as the men charge up the cliff, slashing and hacking at helpless monks, as they are making their way up the hill towards the monastery. From within the walls, a group of Anglo-Saxon warriors, who surge forth and begin to clash with the Norse invaders.
The camera is cast down, so we can see the hill, charging forth from the rear, comes our hero, with Lief charging right behind him.
The music begins to heat up in tempo as the monks within the church are filled with panic; the abbot is trying to direct a group of children.
Abbot
Behind the altar! Behind the saint!
(He turns to some of the other monks)
Close those doors! We must keep them out.
But it is too late as the young clean shaven Norseman from earlier slams against the closing doors and rolling his way inside, only to rise to his feet, as the abbot rolls backwards along with the monks, even as the abbot glances behind himself, over his shoulder.
After our hero bursts inside, a number of warriors follow, the Norsemen move towards the plates and the golden altar, and all of its rich contents, while the monks flee and pull back, our hero does not focus on the altar, hearing a whimper, he turns his head to the shadow, he steps forward and seeing the abbot, he raises up his sword to strike him down, only to hear the whimpering of children.
He freezes wide-eyed, staring at the abbot who keeps trying to pull the children behind him, using himself as a shield, the children looking at the warrior fearfully. Shock climbs its way to his face as he gapes at them, to be replaced with horror, and then guilt, as he looks from them to his own sword, with dawning realization.
Dropping his weapon, he turns and bolts out the door, and past the hill and forest from whence he came. Behind him rings the cries of anger and accusations of “coward”, stopping near the shore, panting and breathing heavily, he wretches as Lief’s cries echo behind him, our hero is filled with visible shame as the realization that he gave way to fear and cowardice. He is distracted by the cawing of a nearby raven, as it stares down at him pointedly.
Horror and shame wash over his face, just before a cry of pure horror, pain and rage erupts from his throat.
We cut to black as the title slams on the screen from the darkness.
SUPERIMPOSED OVER DISEMBARKING SHIP CREW… “OCTOBER 9, 975 – NORWAY”
Large village heavily covered in snow. Largest house is three times the size of the other houses, and is the destination of the newly returned ship crew. Next to the estate is a small forge.
Village is surrounded by thick wooden palisade and is overcast with barely any moonlight, due to early hours. Mariners make their way through the village, as it greets the newly returned mariners, some are greeted by their wives and children but they mostly head towards to the large estate with the head of the newly returned heroes stopping by forge.
Forge is well lit and the sound of a hammer meeting metal- this is the home of Hámundr Vragisson. The inside of the forge is clean, as if one can eat off of any surface. The tools are kept clean and in VERY particular order. The figure hammering at the bit of metal is tall, with long red hair, and a thick beard. His hair is tied tightly, and firmly behind his head. He is currently dirty, as he has been hammering away for hours.
To one side, sits Hámundr’s sits his large dog, Tyr asleep, paws in the air. From outside the cries of the welcoming town and the deep set singing of the crew can be heard. Hámundr is paying no mind to the sounds from outside. He is focused intently on his work, continuing to hammer away.
Feet crunches in the snow, and the thin smithy door creaks as someone is by the door. This figure is dark haired, and also muscular. Tyr immediately rolls to attention, tongue lolling, looking at the newcomer. This is Leif Hallrsson, he is the Jarl’s son.
Leif
(yelling futilely)
Hámundr!
(Waits 10 seconds) Hámundr!
Hámundr does not hear Leif arriving, and continues to hammer away at his current project, much to Leif’s irritation. Leif rolls his eyes and grits his teeth.
Leif goes to approach; Tyr goes to greet Leif, hopeful for attention, nearly tripping Leif. Leif presses his hand against Hámundr back to get his attention, without potential injury.
Startled, Hámundr turns swinging, and misses as Leif jumps back in time.
Hámundr
(With green eyes flashing with anger)
By the All-Father! You nearly lost your head!
Leif
Evenly. Pay more attention in the future.
Hámundr
(With a gusty sigh)
When did you return?
Leif has a large, silver chalice that he was holding the entire time.
Leif
Not long.
(Waves the chalice) Make it in Freyja’s likeness, for my sister.
Hámundr
Which one?
Leif
(Sardonically, with a teasing grin)
The pretty one.
Leif hands Hámundr the chalice. On his way out he drops several coins, minted in the Carolingians Empire on the table.
Leif
For your troubles.
As Leif steps out, he pats Tyr on the head.
Cut to Hámundr face, as he stares after Leif, then turns to look at the coins. He picks one up, between his forefinger and thumb, studying it. He puts it back down, and rubs at his temple wearily. He then glances at the silver chalice, with the light scintillating by the fire in the forge.
Leif
(Poking his head back in)
Have it ready for the day after the Morrow. There will be a feast in our honour, lummox.
Hámundr
(Scarred face breaks into a small grin)
Away with you!
Door slams close as Leif runs off with a snicker and Hámundr moves towards the forge with the chalice.
2.
We are introduced to Hámundr’s house. It is tidy and organized, if tiny. Against a wall leans his father’s sword. Hámundr is startled awake by the crow of the rooster.
He rises from his bed, and he proceeds to the barrel, and breaks the ice that covers the barrel with his hand. He then plunges his head in the cold water, then to pull his head out, only to shake his head like a dog.
Hámundr gathers together some tools including a shovel and a sickle. On his way out, he finally notices Tyr is still on the bed with his head in the location where Hámundr was sleeping, snoring softly. With a sharp whistle, he awakens the dog, who barks lightly after his master.
The village is still dark, as it is the next morning before sunrise. Hámundr morosely makes his way through the village. Tyr is following close by. Hámundr stops only when he stands before a door with a dim light behind it. Inside a man and a woman’s voice can be heard bickering.
Hámundr shifts from foot to foot, anxiously. He hesitates looking around him. Tyr whines, and presses his master’s hand with his cold nose. In response, Hámundr pets Tyr’s head. He has a small smile and a fond look in his eyes.
The door bursts open from within, as a balding bearded with a face that only a mother could love. His name is Ari.
Ari
(Yelling over his shoulder at his wife Githa)
You want me to go after her? Fine! I’ll go after her!
Gytha
(Yelling)
Oh, for the love of Freya, Ari! Don’t you use your daughter to run away from this discussion!
Ari
(Yelling back)
If that doesn’t work, can I use your ugly mug you inherited from your old father!
(Finally notices Hámundr)
WHAT?
Hámundr
(Uncomfortably, and quietly)
About my coin...
Ari
(With an ugly scowl)
What was that, Chicken-heart?
Gytha
(yelling)
What was that, you mother…
Ari
(Yelling at Githa)
Not You! The Chicken-Heart at the door!
(He turns back to Hámundr)
Hámundr
You owe me three coins. It costs five, you gave me two, you owe me three.
Ari
I paid you!
Hámundr
You gave me two, promised me the other three tomorrow, which was last week, I want the other three.
Ari
Are you going to bother me now?
Hámundr
(Slightly irritated)
I just want what is owed!
Gytha
He paid you! Get out of here, coward! We have children to think of!
Hámundr
(Jabbing the air with a finger angrily at Gytha)
NOBODY ASKED YOU! I JUST WANT MY THREE COINS!
ARI
(Shouting)
You do not talk to my wife that way!
(Ari and Hámundr struggle for the door, as Tyr whines and a dark look enters Ari’s eyes, as he looks at the cringing dog)
What are you whining about mutt? Nothing more than a coward like, your master.
(His head motions at Hámundr)
Hámundr
(Enraged at Ari moving forward to slap Tyr)
LEAVE HIM ALONE!
(he throws Ari back, and Gytha catches him. He also threatens Ari)
I WILL BE BACK LATER, FOR MY THREE COINS!
Ari
(Yelling)
You aren’t getting anything!
Gytha
(Yelling)
You are not man enough to make us pay! Coward!
The door closes, as Hámundr stomps off in a rage, with Tyr following after him with a whine. Hámundr stomps his way out the gates of the village into the winter landscape, Tyr on his heel.
Hámundr
(Yelling)
They have no right! They needed their horses shoed, and I did! They got no right!
(Tyr whines and nuzzles his hand. Hámundr kneels down and scruffs the dog’s neck)
Pay them no mind, Tyr. You are no coward. You are a war hound.
Tyr licks Hámundr hand, and Hámundr smiles softly, getting up to continue on his way, continuing his way out of the village. He takes a single step forward with his hound at his side, when he hears the flapping of wings and hears the cawing of a raven.
It caws at him softly, before falling quiet to study him intently, with Hámundr more than a little daunted. He stares momentarily at it, confused as it looks like that from years ago, before he bows his head nervous about the creature’s presence there before him. Hurrying out of the village, with the raven staring after him before it takes off in the same direction as the shaken blacksmith.
The camera pans out, to see the panoramic view of the region.
3.
It is now the middle of the day, with a group of 13 kids, ranging from ages 6 to 15 years old; they are 6 girls and 7 boys. The eldest child is a well-dressed young girl with dark hair. The eldest boy is 14, clear-eyed and sandy blonde hair, he has a slender build. The children are competing, who can climb the highest of Mount Draco. It is a fairly tall mountain. The wind howls as the girl overtakes one of the younger boys. Hjaldis is wearing a dress, and is laughing triumphantly over her victory.
Hjaldis
(Taunting one of the boys)
Hah! I win! Chew on that Freygils!
The sandy haired boy is named Volsung, and he overtakes her with a great cry. Hjaldis looks irritated by his victory over her.
Volsung
No, I have won!
Off in the distance, crossing the frozen lake, is Hámundr, along with Tyr at his side. Tyr barks to greet the cheerful children, eager to join in their games. Hámundr was looking elsewhere, in his own thoughts, he is startled by Tyr’s barking, then he looks in the direction the dog dashes forward, and he sees the children, and his face pales, then his features go from panic, to anger.
Hámundr
(Shouting)
OI! STOP THAT!
(He hurries up towards them)
Get down here. NOW!
(Most of the children squeal, as they run off towards the village, afraid of a scolding. Volsung runs in a different direction. Tyr barks as Hámundr throws down the deerskin pack he was carrying, and then dashes after the children. He catches Hjaldis, and then notices Volsung, and shouts after him. Hjaldis is resisting, pleading to let go. Hámundr shouts)
COME BACK HITHER! VOLSUNG!
(Hámundr shouts louder now)
COME BACK, OR I’LL TELL YOUR FATHER!
Volsung freezes, as Tyr races up to him surprising the boy by tackling him into the snow. Volsung gets the dog off of him, and tries to get back up, only for Tyr to start wrestling with the boy.
Volsung
(Cursing at Tyr)
Dammit, Tyr! Filthy cur! Not now!
Hjaldis
Let me go, Hámundr! You cannot manhandle me, as if I was my brother! I am a lady!
Hámundr
(Through gritted teeth)
WHAT IN NJORD’S NAME DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING HERE, GIRL! THAT MOUNTAIN IS DANGEROUS! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU, OR ANY OF THE OTHER CHILDREN PLAYING THERE EVER AGAIN!
Hjaldis
(Struggling)
You are holding my arm too tight! Let me go!
Hámundr
You ever go near yon mountain again, and YOUR father will hear of this!
Hjaldis
(Pleading)
Oh, please no! We meant nothing by it! I will behave! Just please do not tell my Papa, or my sister!
Hámundr
Fine, but I do not want to ever see you there again. It is dangerous.
(Hámundr lets Hjaldis go, she takes off like a rabbit, a few steps towards the village, and turns around to curse at him)
Hjaldis
(Shouting)
Go run off a cliff Hámundr! And stay away from my sister!
Hámundr
(Shouts back)
I will do what I damn well want with your sister, now off with you!
Hjaldis runs off, as Hámundr picks up his effects, then walks towards Volsung and Tyr. The boy looks pale, as he sees Hámundr tower over him. Volsung pushes Tyr off of him, and gets back up.
Volsung
(Defiantly)
We did naught wrong, Hámundr.
Hámundr
(Grabs the boy roughly by the arm scolding the boy harshly)
Thor’s beard! What were you thinking!
Volsung
I’m not afraid of the haunted mountain.
(Volsung says the word “haunted” in an exaggerated tone)
Hámundr
(With a sneer)
Haunted? Is that why you think nobody goes near the mountain? More fool you. If that mountain is haunted, it is haunted by more than simple ghouls.
Volsung
(Struggles against the strong hand holding him)
Tell me you do not truly believe the stories Da is always spouting?
Hámundr takes Volsung by both hands, holding the boy’s arms and shakes him, roughly.
Hámundr
(Shouts)
They are more than mere stories, boy! Your father has never told a lie! That place is cursed! You hear me? Cursed!
Volsung
Let me go, you are not my brother! I do not have to listen to you!
(Hámundr looks hurt for a moment, before his eyes flash with steel)
Hámundr
Mayhaps this is not my concern, but we shall see how your father responds, once he hears of this?
(Volsung pales and stops struggling)
Volsung
Please do not tell him, I will do anything!
Hámundr
(Now calmer)
Promise me, you will never go near that mountain. Swear it to me, on the war god’s sword.
Volsung
(Looks at the dog, and in a joking tone)
On your dog’s sword?
Hámundr
(Hámundr gives Volsung a grim look in his eyes, unimpressed by the joke)
Swear it!
Volsung
(Looks at Hámundr in the eye, then looks away)
I swear on the war god’s sword, I will not go to the mountain again.
Hámundr lets Volsung go, and with a nod, he goes with the boy to the dwelling/apple farm seen in the distance. This is the home of Gothi Authun Club-foot. He limps with his right foot. The trio approaches the house, which is a decrepit looking small building.
First through the door is Volsung. Tyr is next through the door, barking followed by Hámundr.
Authun
(Sitting by the fire with his two younger children, his son Sigurdr, and his daughter Hildr)
Thus, it was that Sigmundr found his doom on that battlefield, when the All-Father shattered his blade, and thus is the fate of all men.
Hildr
But father, how do you know it was Othin who shattered Gram?
Authun
(Playfully)
Why, he only had one eye!
(Seriously)
And there is no one else, who can possibly shatter Gram.
(Interrupted by Volsung, he turns to the door)
Hámundr! It is good to see you.
Hámundr
Trying to scare them out of their wits, are you?
(Tyr goes to Authun, starting to lick his face)
Authun
Yes, yes, Tyr! It is good to see you too! Down!
(The children laugh. Authun finally gets Tyr off of him)
It is when children are youngest, that they most need to hear such tales, less they grow soft in the head, as our dear Jarl.
(Hámundr shares a smile with Authun, chuckling softly, as the latter gets up, leaning on his cane)
Sigurdr
(Teasingly)
And where were you off to, Volsung, you were gone for quite some long time. Were you seeing to a girl, perhaps? I bet you were making eyes to some strange girl, called Hjaldis.
Volsung
(His cheeks are burning red)
Shut up!
Hámundr
No! He was with me in the village… I mean, he was helping with a delivery or two…
Authun
(Eyes darkening with anger)
DO NOT LIE TO ME BOY! YOU WERE WITH THAT GIRL! SHE’s TROUBLE! YOU WILL NOT GO NEAR HER AGAIN!
Volsung
Nothing happened!
Authun
That lass is the Jarl’s second favourite daughter! He would sooner gut you like a fish, than to see you anywhere near her!
(He holds his cane menacingly)
You go near her again and I will beat you!
(All three children pale, and Tyr whimpers, hiding behind Sigurdr)
Hámundr
Uncle Authun, I do not think that…
Hildr
But father, Hámundr sees Edda all the time!
(It is now Hámundr’s turn to go a little red)
And Leif offered to show Sigurdr how to fight with the blade!
Authun
One his hardly tolerated and the other is a man grown. And thus, free to do as he likes.
Hámundr
(Noticing Authun’s renewed menacing look at Volsung, he sets down his pack on the table. He speaks up to bring attention to him, rather than Volsung)
I have brought you what you needed, what you require for the digging of the springtime planting.
Authun
(Turning his attention to the items on the table)
Thank you, Hámundr. I see, unlike someone
(He gives Volsung another dirty look)
You’ve been hard at work, here is your payment of course.
(He turns to Volsung)
Volsung, go fetch the spare venison, along with a basket of apples for our guest.
(Volsung hurriedly obeys. Hildr and Sigurdr are playing with Tyr)
Hámundr
No, no, you don’t have… Venison! How have you come across venison?
Authun
(Motions his index finger to Hámundr, as if to share a secret. with a cheeky grin)
From one of Aguntir’s bulls! It somehow broke free, crossed the river, and crept into our farm in the night. He had a feast with our apples, and crushed some of the sapling. So, I took out the old family spear, and with a single thrust… We had some venison! A vast improvement to simple apples.
(Authun laughs to himself)
Hámundr
(Worriedly)
But Aguntir is but a stewart of one of Hallr’s cattle farms! He has been mighty angry about losing a bull. He will not like this.
Authun
Hámundr, I had thought your name Hámundr, not Oafundr. He will not find out.
Hámundr
How’s that?
Authun
Could you really sell your father’s beloved brother by sacred oaf?
Hámundr
Nonono! I do not like lying!
Authun
(Waves his hand)
What is done, is done, boy.
(Volsung returns with his arms full of venison)
Hámundr
No, no… This is far too much…
Authun
(Speaking over Hámundr, who sighs and mumbles a prayer at Authun’s words)
You shall leave after we have supped.
THE SUN SETS. IT IS NOW AFTER SUPPER.
Hámundr is stepping outside, the venison in the large pack, carrying the basket of apples. Hámundr whistles to Tyr, who was being fed an extra piece of meat by Hildr, who then scampers to his master. He says his farewell to the family.
Authun
(Throws the door open, hobbles as fast as he can to the blacksmith)
Hámundr! Wait, wait!
(Hámundr stops, and turns to Authun)
Here. Take this. It is not much. But it should suffice.
(He puts some coins in Hámundr’s hand)
Hámundr
No, no! I cannot. You have already given me too much! I cannot take any more!
Authun
Nonsense. After all that you have done for us, it is the least I can do. And let us not forget that Vragi saved me many times. This is but a small pittance in comparison to what he did for me, in our youth.
(At the mention of his father, Hámundr’s face darkens with grief. The two share a quick embrace, before they part ways. Hámundr heads in the direction of the village)
As Hámundr heads to the village, the earth shakes, as deep within Mount Draca, unbeknownst to Hámundr, a slitted, snake-like eye cracks open after a couple of rocks fall on his head, dislodged by the children playing earlier. The mountain trembles with its fury.
Hámundr panics as the earth shakes, and breaks into a run to the village.
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