Thorfinn and the Gruesome Games

by David MacPhail

  Then Velda prodded Thorfinn in the ribs. “How about that?”

  “Oooh stop it!” Thorfinn laughed.

  Then Velda yelled in his face. “RAAAARGH!”

  Thorfinn merely looked at her and smiled. “You’re funny.”

  Velda sat back and stroked her chin. “Hmmm. I’ll find a way to bring out your anger.”

  At this point Oswald leaned over and said as quietly as he could (he sounded like a horse with something stuck in its teeth), “Heed my warning. You’ll never change Thorfinn.”

  Velda might have listened to the old man’s wise words, except his eyesight was so terrible, he’d leaned over in the wrong direction and was talking to a pillar.

  CHAPTER 5

  They left at dawn the next morning. The whole village turned out on the pier to bid them goodbye.

  “Farewell!” cried Velda, waving with both hands. “We’ll bring you back the Great Hammer!”

  Erik the Ear-Masher, Harald’s second in command, sneered with laughter. “Little girl, we have never won the Great Hammer. I mean, just look at our team.”

  Standing guard over a barrel of oysters was Hagar the Thunder-Belly, their belching champion. He was large and round and rosy-cheeked, with lots of red-haired pigtails poking out from under his helmet. “No one’s to eat these, do you hear? They are for my training.”

  He delved his hand into the barrel and pulled out a clump of oyster shells, broke them open and started popping oysters into his mouth. Hagar stood with his legs apart. He took a couple of deep breaths and then erupted: “BLLLAAAAAARRRRRRPPP”

  It was the most colossal belch any of them had ever heard. It rattled their eardrums, and echoed off the mountains that rose up from either side of the fjord. It even seemed to billow the sails a bit. The whole crew applauded.

  Then there was Logrid the Limb-Splitter, the village axe-throwing champion. He was tall and skinny, with a thin, wispy beard and a wizened face.

  “He’s good, but he’s not quite good enough to win,” said Erik.

  “Rubbish!” said Velda, who thought Logrid was brilliant. “What do you know about axe throwing anyway, you great pudding?”

  Logrid was already practising with a target board. He raised his shiny axe to his lips and kissed the blade. “Now then, Helga, let’s see how the sea affects my aim.” Vikings liked to give their weapons names sometimes.

  With that, Logrid unleashed his axe, hitting the bull’s-eye almost dead centre.

  “He’s possibly my biggest hero in the world,” said Velda. Logrid bowed.

  “Why in the name of Thor are we taking this small girl anyway?” said Erik, picking Velda up like she was a bag of turnips. “Her father was a jinx. Every ship he ever sailed on got lost or sunk.” Erik dangled her over the side. “We should get rid of her.”

  Harald brought his fist crashing down on Erik’s helmet. The noise was like someone sounding a huge gong across the fjord. “Put her down, you villainous weasel!”

  “Arrr! Alright, I was only joking,” said Erik, dropping Velda back onto the deck.

  Then there was Floki the Sea-Urchin, their swimming champion. He was a tiny man with broad, powerful shoulders. He was staring into the distance from the prow of the ship, his face proud and serious. Floki pointed at the distant horizon straight ahead of them. “My destiny lies there, and my destiny is to win this competition.”

  Oswald jabbed him on the shoulder with his stick, then pointed in the other direction. “The island of Uraig lies that way, you imbecile.”

  As they neared the end of the fjord another ship appeared at their side.

  “It’s Magnus the Bone-Breaker!” someone cried.

  Harald growled and gripped his sword. He stepped up to the prow and glared across at the other boat.

  Sure enough, the neighbouring village chief was standing at the helm of his ship. His gigantic son, Osric the Brick-Swallower, stood beside him. Osric was so gigantic that Magnus was using him as a sunshade.

  Magnus yelled at his son, “Move to the left, the sun’s in my eyes!”

  “Oh, alright,” replied the youth, who looked miserable.

  Thorfinn waved at him. “Cheer up, my friend! We’re all going on holiday.”

  Magnus was wearing Harald’s shield and gloating, as he always did. He shouted over at them, “Hey, you lot! Fancy a race?”

  “A race?” Harald bristled.

  “Yes, just to the end of the fjord. First one to the open sea wins.”

  Harald glowered at the other chief. “Ha! We can beat you any day, you thieving swine!” He barked at the crew, “Okay, you pig-dogs, oars at the double!”

  When Harald’s ship was a few lengths ahead, Magnus cupped his hands and shouted over at them. “Hey, watch this.” He turned to his crew. “Men, double the oars and release the turbo sail!”

  A second set of oars thrust through portholes on the sides of the ship. A giant new topsail unfurled. Before they knew it Magnus’s boat was beginning to draw ahead. He waved at them from the back of his ship.

  “See you at Uraig Island, losers!”

  “Hmm… what an interesting character,” said Thorfinn.

  Harald was seething with rage. “Oh, I’ll get my shield back, you big cheat. Just you wait. I’ll get it back, oh yes!”

  CHAPTER 6

  They left the fjord and turned southwest. Thorfinn and Velda passed the time by watching the competitors train. Logrid practised his swing, and nearly lopped off several of the crew’s ears in the process. Floki did a lot of press-ups to keep his shoulder muscles toned. Meanwhile, Hagar’s belching was attracting seals, who seemed to think he was their new leader.

  “Right!” Velda said suddenly, rolling up her sleeves. “Time to get down to business.” She stood back against the rail and looked at Thorfinn.

  “Be a pal and pick up my axe for me, eh?” It was only lying a few feet away from her. “It’s just that my back is a bit sore.”

  Thorfinn smiled. “But of course. Anything for a friend.”

  As Thorfinn passed her, Velda stuck out her foot and tripped him up. Percy squawked and took flight as Thorfinn tumbled to the ground. The bird perched on the mast, glaring at Velda.

  “I do apologise,” said Thorfinn. “I seem to have stumbled. Let me just get that axe for you.”

  “APOLOGISE?!” Velda exploded. “What kind of a person says sorry to someone who trips them up?”

  “It doesn’t do to think the worst of people, especially such a good friend as you. I expect it was my fault for stumbling over your feet.”

  “Look, I’m telling you I tripped you up!” cried Velda.

  “You’re just trying to make me feel better, which is soooo like you,” replied Thorfinn.

  Velda flushed and smiled. “Yes, it is soooo like me, isn’t it?” She checked herself. “Wait! NO! Aren’t you angry?” But it was Velda who was getting angry. “I trip you up, and YOU apologise to ME?”

  Thorfinn started laughing, which made Velda even angrier. “And now you’re LAUGHING?! What’s so funny?”

  Harald was on his way past with his fishing rod. He poked Velda’s arm. “You’re supposed to be making Thorfinn angry, not the other way around!”

  Velda took a deep breath and calmed herself. “OK, lets try this another way. C’mere Thorfinn.”

  Thorfinn stepped towards her. Velda dodged to one side, grabbed Thorfinn, and then pushed him over the side. He tumbled silently into the water.

  “Ha! Howzat!” she cried. “I’ll bet you’re angry now. Thorfinn? Thorfinn??”

  Thorfinn disappeared under the water. Velda suddenly felt guilty. “What have I done?”

  She tugged off her boots and was about to dive in after him, when all of a sudden he resurfaced, leaping like a graceful porpoise out of the waves. He playfully spat a big stream of water out of his mouth.

  “What a terrific idea, old friend!” he cried. “The water is perfect for swimming. Come on in!” Then he began doing backstroke, while Percy had a bath b
eside him.

  “I don’t believe it!” said Velda.

  “That looks like a laugh!” said one of the other Vikings. “Let’s all jump in!”

  Before long, just about everybody was in the sea, splashing around and laughing. Velda shrugged and jumped in after them.

  “What a lark!” said Thorfinn.

  “You’re mad!” said Velda. “Why do you have to turn every bad thing into something nice?”

  “Oh, I believe in making great things out of whatever comes my way,” he replied.

  CHAPTER 7

  On the fourth morning of their long voyage, the Vikings woke to calm seas and warm summer sun. A low-lying island appeared on the horizon.

  “That’s Uraig,” said Oswald the wise man.

  Thorfinn and Velda climbed the mast to get a good look. The Scottish island was green and treeless. They entered a rocky cove filled with other longships, and tied up alongside Magnus’s ship.

  Oswald demanded to be carried off the boat.

  “Ach! You can walk!” cried the crew.

  “Don’t you realise how old I am?” whined Oswald. “Besides, my bunions are itchy.”

  One of the crew reluctantly agreed and hoisted the old man onto his shoulders.

  “Watch it, you great haddock!” cried Oswald, hitting the man with his stick.

  The pier was a hive of Viking activity. There were sword fighters and wrestlers and archers all eyeing each other up like vultures.

  “There must be a dozen different Viking tribes here,” said Velda.

  They were met by a tall, stern man with a bald head, who was wearing a long purple gown.

  “Greetings. My name is Sir Fergus and I am the steward of these games.”

  Thorfinn was about to take off his helmet and say, “Good day.” Velda leapt onto his back and clasped her hands over his mouth to stop him.

  “Sorry, Sir Fergus, but my friend here cannot speak his name, for if he did it would strike such terror into your heart you would surely DROP DEAD!” she said.

  Sir Fergus studied Thorfinn closely for a moment. Some of the other Vikings nearby overheard, and they too turned their heads to study the boy.

  “Phew! Good work,” whispered Harald to Velda.

  “Follow me. I will take you to your camp,” said Sir Fergus. He led them up some steps through a cleft in the cliff to a large field, which was bounded on three sides by sea cliffs and on one side by a stockade. There were lines and lines of large tents, with a section for each Viking tribe.

  Thorfinn and Velda burst into their tent, excited. Oswald fell through the door behind them.

  “I’m bagging the top bunk,” he cried.

  “That’s not fair,” cried Velda.

  “I called it first. If you aren’t fast you’re last,” replied the old man.

  “But you can hardly even walk, never mind climb up to the top bunk,” said Velda.

  “Well, I for one am happy to help, old friend,” said Thorfinn.

  Thorfinn and Velda tried as hard as they could, but they couldn’t push the old man up.

  “I’ll go and ask for help,” said Thorfinn.

  Thorfinn returned with three strong men, who sighed and raised their eyes to the sky.

  “You never told us it was this old windbag we were helping.”

  They all pushed together and when Oswald was finally up, he said, “I forgot, I need to go to the toilet!” And demanded to be taken down again.

  Outside, the cooks were setting up a fire and getting ready to make dinner.

  “Come with me,” said Oswald after he finally emerged from the toilet. Thorfinn and Velda followed him over to the wooden stockade. A staircase led up to a watchtower. “Up!” he cried, and they had to shove him up yet another staircase.

  At the top, the view opened out across the whole island. In the middle was a vast green plain. There were four other stockades at different ends of the island. “One for us,” said Oswald. “One for the Angles, one for the Britons, one for the Scots and one for the Picts. All the tribes of the west are here for the games.”

  “But why are we all fenced off?” asked Thorfinn.

  “These people are always at each other’s throats. It has been that way for hundreds of years. You never know when a battle is going to erupt.”

  In the centre of the island stood a great wooden fort on a rocky outcrop. To its left was a giant flat field surrounded by stripy tents. “That is the field where most of the competitions take place. And look there, in the middle.”

  In the very centre of this field was a raised bank, on which stood a giant gleaming hammer. “That is the prize we all seek: the Great Hammer itself.”

  CHAPTER 8

  That evening they ate around the campfire. Oswald paid a group of touring actors to perform a play for them.

  “I’m terribly excited,” said Thorfinn, as they all settled down around a makeshift stage. “I’ve never seen real actors before.”

  The other Vikings were excited too, but for different reasons. “Great! Will there be sword fighting in it?” They rubbed their hands with glee.

  “Yes, something with lots of battles and gory deaths!”

  The actors seemed to have other ideas though, as the play was a love story.

  “BOOOO! Rubbish! Gerroff!” cried the deeply disappointed Vikings.

  Thorfinn was the only one who enjoyed it. In fact, he clapped the whole way through, shouting, “Bravo!”

  The Vikings started throwing food at the stage. The actors were used to being pelted with fruit and eggs, but the Vikings threw a full salmon, a wheel of cheese and the entire roast hindquarters of an elk.

  “They’re an enthusiastic bunch,” said Thorfinn of his fellow Vikings.

  The play was wisely cut short when some of the audience members were spotted wheeling forward a military catapult and loading it with boiled reindeer heads.

  “What a pity,” said Thorfinn, as the actors fled the stage in terror. “Aren’t actors amazing? I’d love to be able to do that.”

  Velda thought about that, scratching her chin. “Hmmm. Very interesting indeed.”

  Magnus the Bone-Breaker appeared by the campfire, carrying Harald’s shiny gold shield, Sword-Blunter, on his back. His glum giant of a son, Osric the Brick-Swallower, hung at his shoulder.

  Harald crackled and spat like the fire they were standing round. “What do you want here, Bone-Breaker?”

  “Well, that’s nice, isn’t it?” replied Magnus. “I just wanted to wish you good luck, that’s all. Oh, and if you’re interested, to offer you the chance to win your shield back.”

  Harald’s eyes sparkled, but he was suspicious. “What do you mean?”

  “A simple wager. My village versus yours. Whoever gets the most points tomorrow wins.”

  “This had better not be another trick.”

  Magnus opened out his hands. “Honest, no tricks. You do want to win your shield back, don’t you?” Magnus stood the shield in front of him and rested his elbow on it.

  “What’s in it for you, Bone-Breaker?”

  “Oh, that’s the fun bit. If I win I get your sword, Whirlwind.”

  Erik the Ear-Masher, Harald’s second in command, interrupted: “No, you can’t do it!”

  “He’s right,” said Oswald. “The sword and shield are the symbols of your power as village chief. If he wins he’ll have both, and you know what that means.”

  “Magnus will be our chief, not you!” said Erik.

  “So that’s it,” said Harald. “You want to take over my village?”

  Magnus shrugged and rested his head on his hand. “That, and also it’s a matching set. I hate to break them up.”

  Harald’s eyes twitched. He stepped up close to Magnus. They were almost nose-to-nose. “I’ll take your wager,” he snarled.

  Magnus clapped his hands together. “Excellent! So tomorrow we will see!” He turned away, laughing.

  Erik stepped up to Harald’s side. “You idiot! Why did you accept?
It’s bound to be a trick.”

  “What does it matter?” replied Harald. “We have the Thunder-Belly, Logrid and Floki; they are more than a match for anyone in Magnus’s village. As long as we have them, we can win the bet.

  CHAPTER 9

  The following morning Velda woke to the sound of groaning coming from outside. It sounded like a walrus with its moustache caught in a crab’s nippers.

  “Ow … Ow … Ow … Ow.”

  She banged the roof of her bunk, waking Thorfinn, who was in the one above. “Did you hear that?”

  Thorfinn poked his head down over the edge, listening. “Why yes, old friend.”

  “Hear what?” cried Oswald from the top bunk. “I can’t hear anything for that awful moaning.”

  Thorfinn and Velda jumped down from their bunks and threw open the door.

  “Wait for me, you fools!” cried Oswald. His bottom was already sticking out of the bunk. One of his legs was dangling below, his toe seeking out the rung of the ladder. But they were already gone. “Eh … help! I’m stuck.”

  “Ow … Ow … Ow … Ow.”

  The noise was coming from the next hut.

  The two children burst in to find Hagar lying on the bottom bunk, clutching his stomach.

  “Whatever is the matter, Mr Thunder-Belly?” asked Thorfinn.

  Hagar grimaced and pointed to the barrel of oysters next to his bed.

  “Someone… someone’s poisoned my oysters. I can’t belch today,” said Hagar.

  “Oh dear!” said Thorfinn.

  The two children raced towards Harald’s hut. Their way was blocked by two men carrying a stretcher.