The Plan

In the aftermath of the fervent clash, the Icelandic landscape bore witness to the triumphant moment when Olaf's fists rose against the challenges that echoed in the heart of his village. The sun, casting long shadows across the pastoral scenes, marked the culmination of a youthful saga intertwined with the age-old spirit of Vikings.

As Orin's punch, propelled by the youthful vigor of a headstrong challenger, surged forward, Olaf's composure held steady. Swift as the wind, Olaf's footwork danced on the edge of finesse, dodging the impending blow. Olin's fist grazed Olaf's left cheek, a fleeting caress of the wind's touch.

Undeterred, Olaf's counterattack unfolded in a choreography of Viking finesse. A slip and a step forward, a left hook delivered with precision, and finally, a ten percent right uppercut that found its mark on Orin's left cheek. The big-headed challenger staggered backward, disoriented, akin to a man inebriated by a Nordic spirit.

In the backdrop of Iceland's pristine beauty, Olaf's actions defied the influence of medieval chivalry. Unlike the knights of the Middle Ages with their refined duels and genteel gestures, the Icelanders adhered to a raw and unbridled form of combat. There were no handkerchiefs, no concessions to a gentleman's spirit. Olaf epitomized this essence, seizing the moment when Orin faltered.

Orin, reeling from the force of Olaf's blows, found himself helpless as Olaf surged forward. Two punches, a relentless barrage, forced Orin into a defensive parry. The result was evident – Olin's once formidable countenance transformed into a swollen and battered visage, a vivid testament to Olaf's skill.

As Orin lay defeated on the ground, Olaf, though victorious, acknowledged the limitations of his youth. Panting heavily, he retreated a step, bending over with both knees in his hands. The exertion of the spirited bout had overdrafted his stamina. A few seconds more, and victory might have eluded him.

Olin's big head, once a symbol of youthful bravado, now lay prone. Red-haired Tom and the other five teenagers, emboldened by Olaf's victory, rushed towards Orin's two younger brothers, fists clenched in solidarity. The swaggering retreat of Olin's group underscored the shift in power dynamics within the village.

Amidst the post-duel commotion, Olaf, embodying a maturity beyond his years, approached the fallen Orin. In a low voice, he inquired about Orin's well-being, bridging the gap between adversaries with an unexpected touch of camaraderie.

Orin, his eyes opening to the realization of defeat, voiced his frustration in a muffled and annoyed tone. The acknowledgment of Olaf's prowess came tinged with a touch of bewilderment, questioning if there was another Herut in Olaf's family – a testament to the Hadar family's formidable reputation.

In response, Olaf extended a hand, a gesture of magnanimity that reflected the seasoned poise of an adult. As Orin grasped Olaf's hand and rose to his feet, the big-headed challenger couldn't help but be momentarily lost in the brightness of Olaf's smile and the glow of his blond hair.

The camaraderie between the erstwhile adversaries was palpable. Orin, patting Olaf's shoulder with genuine happiness, acknowledged Olaf's strength, admitting that the fight had taken a toll on him. Olaf, on the brink of speaking, was interrupted by the distant tolling of the church bells in the far north.

The rhythmic chimes, striking three times, followed by another set of three, signified the passing of three hours – a reminder that it was now three o'clock in the afternoon. In the summer nights of Iceland, where darkness was a fleeting visitor, the villagers concluded their toil at the third hour.

The urgency in Orin's demeanor became apparent as he expressed concern about facing the consequences at home. A father, holding a position of authority as the mayor and tax officer of Weir Village, awaited Olin's return. The prospect of facing a reprimand for neglecting his studies prompted Olin to propose a hasty departure, promising Olaf a rematch in the future.

Olaf, embodying the camaraderie forged in the crucible of combat, shook hands with Orin in a parting gesture. As Olin, accompanied by his younger brothers, vanished along the path, the landscape absorbed the echoes of the spirited duel, transitioning to a serene calm.

Left amidst the aftermath, Olaf's friends, Redhead Tom, Sollac, and others, extended an invitation to the riverside for further revelry. Yet, Olaf, still nursing the weight of the family's predicament, declined the invitation. A wave of his hands signaled his reluctance to partake in the festivities.

In a sudden recollection, Olaf remembered Sollac's association with a church elder, Elder Amiye of the Dagangnan District Church. Sollac, having recognized Amiye as his teacher, had expressed a desire to visit the elder during the weekend choir studies. With a smile, Olaf proposed an early return, suggesting a visit to Elder Amiye's abode.

The camaraderie among the group resonated with Olaf's loyalty, evoking surprise and hugs from his friends. The seven companions set out for the river to engage in the simpler joys of catching fish, their laughter echoing against the backdrop of Iceland's timeless beauty.

As the day unfolded, Olaf's thoughts transitioned from the echoes of the wrestling match to a deeper contemplation of his family's predicament. The specter of Siegfus's death and the looming threat from the governor cast shadows over the Hadar family's future.

In the intricate chessboard of Icelandic history, Olaf recognized the need for strategic moves. Moving his family overseas and seeking support from other leaders became imperative countermeasures. Solrak's godfather, a potential guide in navigating the treacherous political landscape, beckoned as a source of wisdom.

The absence of formal schools and recorded history in Iceland compelled Olaf to explore unconventional avenues. The rich tapestry of Icelandic literature, with its heroic biographies in the form of Sakya and Edda, became Olaf's muse. These narratives, passed down through generations, held the collective spirit of Icelanders.

Olaf's contemplation led him to a novel approach – leveraging Sakya, the narrative prose of Icelandic lore, as a tool for shaping public opinion. The proposed Sakya would chronicle the Hadar family's noble efforts to compensate Siegfors and underscore the integrity and sincerity woven into the fabric of their existence.

The challenge lay in disseminating this narrative swiftly through a society devoid of newspapers and media. Olaf envisioned enlisting the help of Solrak's teacher, Elder Amiye, to craft a Sakya that would echo across the Icelandic plains, influencing hearts and minds.

The intricate dance of words, the choice of plot nuances, and the artful balance between exaggeration and understatement became the focal points of Olaf's mus

Note: Ring the bell: Before the pendulum clock was developed, the more accurate time was judged by the sundial. Ordinary people knew the time by the sound of the church bell. The church bell was struck eight times a day, with an interval of three hours each time, so from around 7 o'clock in the morning. From the first bell to the eighth bell at four o'clock in the morning is eight hours a day.

Handshake: The social etiquette is customary in Northern Europe. In the south of France, it is still customary to use face-to-face and kiss-to-mouth etiquette, and handshake has not been promoted.