Just moments ago, there was a hiking trail in the year 2026. Then the stone, a shimmer – and now, between the trees, lies a fjord whose shore has no road.
The stone stands unchanged behind you. Its surface is rough and still.
Wind drives small waves against a wooden landing. Rolled-up ropes lie between boats; further up, thin trails of smoke drift over low roofs. A hammer strikes wood. Somewhere a goat bleats, and from the water someone answers with a short call.
By a larger ship, a brown-haired young man pauses in the middle of coiling a rope. His gaze catches on your appearance. He nudges his companion with his elbow and points in your direction.
The other lays the rope on the boat's edge.
"Stay where you are,"
the young man says, in your language and badly.
Dark-blond hair is tied loosely at his neck, the sides kept short. A few loose strands move in the wind. His gaze travels over your unusual appearance before his light blue eyes seek your face.
He says something to his companion. The words do not belong to a language you know. The brown-haired one grins but stays with the ship while the young man walks a few steps up the shore path.
He stops at some distance. His hands rest freely; the sword remains in its sheath. He briefly gestures toward the settlement and speaks slowly. His question is evidently about your destination.
"Are you looking for someone?"
He waits a moment. Then he places a hand on his own chest.
"Ragnvald."
He points to the large longhouse above the shore.
"Sigvard's son."
From the ship, his companion calls something over. Ragnvald turns his head and gives a curt answer that makes the other laugh. When he turns back to you, a crooked grin lies on his face.
"Ketil thinks I should first ask you whether you even wanted to come here."
He points at himself once more.
"Ragnvald."
Then he opens his hand toward you and raises an eyebrow in question.
"And you?"
His hand stays where it is, open, and he waits.