Gunnar’s company swept through the Thingvellir amid clattering jaws. Heads turned, and people fell through windows gawking at him, not even noticing their predicament till after the procession had passed.
Every one of the men was dangerously well dressed. Gold gleamed from their arms, their clothes were dyed in costly* patterns, and anything leather was glossy and oiled to supple perfection. Gunnar himself was in his element – people. He had a smile that competed with his outfit, and the combination dazzled everyone. Those few who didn’t care about money were won over by his tales of pirate battles and kingly visits.
One day Gunnar headed away from Law Rock, finishing up his popcorn from the court case that morning. As he passed a cluster of booths – he didn’t recognize them as Hoskuld’s – a group of gorgeous women approached him shyly.
Well, shyly except for their leader, a remarkably tall blonde, who waved cheerily. “Heya, Gunnar!”
Gunnar stopped. “How do you know my name?”
“Everyone knows your name,” said the beauty. “I’m Hallgerd, Hoskuld’s daughter. Don’t you have a bunch of cool travel photos you want to show me?”
“I’m not saying no,” said Gunnar, and the two sat down at a nearby picnic table.
Hallgerd wore a poofy red ballgown with a hooded scarlet cloak over it – her sole concession to villainy, and even that was lace-trimmed. Gunnar, for his part, was wearing Harald Bluetooth’s robes and Earl Hakon’s friendship bracelet. The two of them looked stunning** together, a fact they both noticed.
“So, are you single?” asked Gunnar, within five minutes.
Hallgard laughed. “Currently, yes. You’re a brave man to ask.”
“Why, are you evil?” Gunnar winked. “I don’t see anything scary about you.”
She chuckled. “Let’s just say… I’m very demanding when it comes to my men.”
Gunnar immediately got down on one knee. “Will you marry me?”
“That was fast,” said Hallgard, genuinely taken aback. “Is this a prank?”
“No, I’m serious, I swear!”
“Okay…” said Hallgerd. “How about you talk to my dad, then?”
Gunnar strode into Hoskuld’s booth and plonked himself down between Hoskuld and Hrut. “Hey, guys!”
“Nice to see you, Gunnar,” said Hrut, and Hoskuld nodded. “Looks like you got richer, all of a sudden.”
“That’s what pirates are for,” nodded Gunnar, busting out his album of travel photos once more. “Wait, never mind, I actually came here for a reason. If I, just for example, hypothetically, as a thought experiment, asked to marry Hallgerd, what would you say?”
“Yeah, sure. I don’t see why not,” shrugged Hoskuld.
Gunnar stared at him. “I mean, thanks, but are you seriously planning to pretend all the drama between us never happened?”
Hoskuld looked at Hrut, who gave a deep sigh. “You don’t deserve her, Gunnar.”
“What!?”
“I know we had our differences,” continued Hrut, “but I still respect you. You’re a great guy, and Hallgerd… isn’t.”
“She’s a girl,” nodded Gunnar.
Hrut rubbed his eyes. “I’m trying to be honest with you here, Gunnar. This is hard to say about my own niece, but I’ve been practicing since she was a preteen. You really, really don’t need her in your life.”
“Wow.” Gunnar shook his head. “If you’re still mad about the Fiddle Mord thing, you can just say that, instead of trash-talking your own niece.”
“It’s not that!” protested Hrut. “I’m just telling you as a friend!”
Hoskuld yawned, getting up for a snack. The other men kept arguing.
“I already proposed to her, and she was super into me,” said Gunnar.
“She was super into her second husband too, and look how that turned out!” Hrut spread his arms wide.
“How did it turn out?”
“Her foster-father murdered him.”
“I don’t see how that’s Hallgerd’s fault,” said Gunnar stoutly.
“He murdered the husband because the husband punched her,” explained Hrut. “So it is her fault.”
Gunnar knit his brows together. “Bro, I get that it’s the tenth century, but that’s still really pushing the definition of ‘fault.’”
“Her first husband, same thing.”
“Did he punch her, too?”
“Yep.”
“Well, there you go,” said Gunnar. “I don’t hit girls. I’ll be fine.”
“She also spends too much money,” warned Hrut.
“So do I.” Gunnar gestured at his entire person.
“She eats fish and chips all the time.”
“I love fish and chips.”
Hoskuld wandered back with a burger and some beer. “So… have you guys worked everything out?”
“Yes,” said Gunnar. “I’m marrying Hallgerd. Can you call her?”
Soon the happy couple was swearing their betrothal oaths and filling out the runestonework. A wedding day was set, and Gunnar rode home overjoyed.
“Njal! Njal!” he cried, bursting in the door. “I’m getting married!”
Njal dropped a plate. “Oh no.”
“I’m marrying Hallgerd Longstocking!”
Njal picked up the plate in order to drop it again. “Oh no.”
“Njal,” said Gunnar, exasperated, “Can you be happy for me for just five seconds?”
“She’ll bring doom with her,” said Njal heavily.
Gunnar paused. The gears of his brain turned very slowly, but they were just about due for a click.
“Are you jealous?”
“No! Absolutely not!”
“I won’t let her come between us,” promised Gunnar.
“No,” said Njal meditatively, “but it’ll be a close call. You’ll make up for her, though.”
“Well, anyway,” said Gunnar, handing over an envelope, from which a decorated runepebble tumbled, “I came to deliver the wedding invite. Are you coming?”
“Of course I’m coming,” sighed Njal. “Anything to support my best friend.”
“Great,” said Gunnar. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have about a hundred more of these to deliver.” He popped out the door and disappeared down the road, Njal staring mournfully after him.
* They had both monetary and non-monetary costs. Dyes were expensive, of course, but so were the healer bills and sick time of anyone with the slightest inclination towards migraines.
** In a much more literal sense than most couples so described.
Saxo Dramaticus 