Thorfinn,
son of Solmund, couldn't really remember his mother as she'd died within hours
of his birth on 2nd Gormánuğur in the year 700AD in the port of Birka, Uppland,
now at the age of 27, life was as good as it could get.Thorfinn Vigavagn
Thorfinn,
son of Solmund, couldn't really remember his mother as she'd died within hours
of his birth on 2nd Gormánuğur in the year 700AD in the port of Birka, Uppland,
now at the age of 27, life was as good as it could get.
Thorfinn's father, Solmund Silken-tongue, was Rig-Jarl of Birka, kings man & kin to Ottar, son of Egil, the reigning King of Sweden. Soon his father, now a veteran of 64 winters, would stand aside & Thorfinn would, with Odin's grace, take up his wyrd as Jarl to the people of Birka.
Thorfinn's childhood had been relatively lonely, berift of his mother & without sibling kin, he had often waited long into the night for his father to return from the court of Egil & inturn Egil's son, Ottar.
To often were a child's tears shed alone in the hours of darkness, but as he grew he found many new friends who were keen to enjoy the friendship of the one day Jarl to be. Yet always something, some niggling doubt, kept him truly apart from accepting those who would offer loyal friendship.
His father's Godi, Vigfus Horseface, taught him well, teaching him honour, tenacity, generosity & the workings of the bygthir, the law of the people.Then there was the voice, well, at first he thought it had been a voice, then when he was about thirteen he'd figured out that it wasn't really a voice, that was just how he'd coped with the strange thoughts that occasionally came from, well, One-Eye knows where they came from. Over the years this voice had, on at least two occasions, saved Thorfinn from serious injury.
On his fifteenth birthday he'd been
waiting quietly for his father to return when one of the older carls, whose
loyalty had never been in doubt, had, in a drunken rage, raised his hand & struck
blindly at Thorfinn, a wooden staff in his hand. When questioned by his father
Thorfinn couldn't recall what occurred thereafter, he awoke up with a graze
on his forehead however the carl was dead, no cuts, no bruises just a look of
tortured horror frozen on his face. From that day forward
Thorfinn ignored the voice.
On the 19th Einmánuğur 727AD however events overtook Thorfinn leaving him desperate, alone & in need of someone he can truly call a friend.