Gunnar and Kolskegg sailed straight to Norway, which was under new management. Harald, and more importantly Gunnhild, were dead, and Earl Hakon, a distant cousin through the female line, was the de facto king.*
“Hëre we åre!” announced Hallvard brightly. “Norway! Wänt tø work før the Eårl?”
“Wait, this is Norway?” gasped Gunnar. “I was extremely ambivalent about Norway. Oh, well. Do you have a longship around here somewhere? One of the ones with the cool dragon heads?”
“Twø,” grinned Hallvard. “Såiling is løveli this time of yër-”
“I want to go raiding,” said Gunnar. “Let’s find some eager young men.”
Hallverd led the brothers to the dockyard, and all the Norwegians oohed and aahed at Gunnar’s luscious blond locks.
“Where are we going?” asked the new celebrity, ignoring them.
“Mi cöusin’s plåce.”
“Wait, we’re raiding your cousin? I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that-”
Hallvard rolled his eyes. “He hås a løt øf düdes.”
“Oh, all right then.”
Olvir was just as moonstruck by Gunnar as everyone else, and immediately asked what his plans were for that night, that weekend, and life in general.
“He wånts tø get rich by stëaling,” butted in Hallvard.
“Hmm,” frowned Olvir. “You’re going to need a bigger boat, and probably a bigger army.”
“I’m nøt støpping you frøm gïving him øne.” Hallvard pouted.
“Drop the stupid accent,” snapped Olvir. “Maybe I’m related to you, but Gunnar is clearly a better person in every measurable aspect.”
“You just met him,” protested Hallvard, but Olvir was already lost in Gunnar’s blue eyes. “How about I give you two more ships? Will a forty-seater and a sixty-seater do?”
“We don’t even have the men for that,” protested Hallvard. Gunnar sat in awkward silence, looking back and forth between the cousins.
“I can get enough for the big one, and we can find out-of-work farmers for the other one. But, I probably should have mentioned it earlier – there are pirates blocking the river.”
“Again?” sighed Hallvard.
“Yup. Swedish guys – one’s Karl and the other’s Vandil, which seems appropriate. Their dad is Snaeulf the Old Fart**.”
Gunnar and Hallvard were fairly certain they could take on a couple of small-time pirates, so after rounding up some warriors and stout farm lads, they paddled down towards the sea, keeping a sharp eye out for any Jolly Rogers.
* To put years of dramatic political intrigue and bloody warfare in a sentence. But who wants to read all that?
** Poor Snaeulf had worked long and hard to outgrow the nickname “Sneezy.” Eventually, it took a combination of aging out, ferocious piracy, and sheer windpower.
Saxo Dramaticus 