Land of the Midnight Sun, The Northern road. Where stags ancient Eldritch call still rings through the stony air, where The Trolls make mischief in their craggy mountain halls. The place where the many colored fires of the north roll across the sky unencumbered. These are the lands of Iceland and Scandinavia.
Ancient tales told, whether by Elders in the fires dying light or Edda writ in most tumultuous time before completely forgot. These are the Gods, The Oz, the Men of the Lands beyond the Midnight Sun.
A place where the men reflect the land, harsh, yet gentle, stark, yet lush, cold, yet filled with an overwhelming heat. These are the things which would crush all but the most stoic of men. Brutal to the point of appearing cruel and uncaring, yet also forgiving and welcoming with a gentle hand to those truly in need. This is why despite what most have been told, despite what many claim to think. These are the worshipers of Giants not Gods as most think of them. The Jotun, the Troll. The Elf and Dwarf. The Tomte of their blood. These are who truly matter to these men of the far flung north.
See, their 'Gods' are actually Jotnar, whether it is Skadi whom they love so deeply they named their home for her calling it Scandinavia. Or Njor, Lord of the High Timbered Temple who guides them to safe fishing. Then there is Beyla from whom they receive drink and cheer and the joys of comradery safe within their drinking halls. Perhaps you might prefer Saga, She who keeps the histories and accounts. Gryla and her sons from Iceland, the Ogre Witch who comes during the darkest nights with her cat to collect the wicked from their beds eating them bones and all. Maybe you have heard of Surt and his sword, of the doom he brings in his wake, but did you know he creates the land upon which all Icelanders live? That it is he who bakes their bread and warms their water with his fiery heat? Yes, these are the children of the Jotnar!
A people who like the Giants these Gods of old, they are as inexplicable, and unpredictable as the land itself. Oblivious as their mountainous home and deep as the valleys below, boisterous as the wind blowing across the freezing seas, yet warm as the gentle hearths glow. Their temperament changing as the sea, and stalwart as the fjord. One with land and God and Spirit alike.
Their letters, the ancient runes with which they have engraved stones for millennia marking graves and wayside shrines in honor of their dead until recent memory, carving into them the names and loving messages to honor those past. Messages such as "Sandar raised the stone in memory of Joar, his kinsman. No one will bear a more able son. May Tor safeguard.”, which can still be seen today. A deep reverence for the past which leads to the people themselves restoring these 'Stones of Memory' despite pleas to the contrary from those who believe the past best forgot. These runes whose mystical properties allow but a glimpse into the past, witness to the joys and sorrows of those long dead, and the pride that comes with each.
Sagas, the stories and so history of the people of the "Northern Road' inspire the wonderous imagination of those who follow. Who ever would not be inspired by the accounting of when a man named Brhagi met with Einar outside of Uppsala 'Or High Land', who together set out to gather a hundred barrels of apples, a whole skif of fish, and enough wool to last two seasons, from a nearby coastal village. When on their journey encountered a huntsman who shared with them a meal of fresh venison in return for naught but a drink of mead?
Those who wrote in their most sacred runes such great poetry as "Never compliment your wife before she is dead.", or alternatively "Never praise the wine before you are drunk". Whose stories are often as funny as they are grand! After all, to a people who live in a land of such extremes, humor in the face of seriousness is naught but a survival skill.
Boisterous and Grim. Stoic and Silly. Loving and Brutal. Cunning but lacking Guile or true malevolence, harsh in their laughter and in their seriousness. They truly are a people after their tribesman and of their land.
Come with us as we look into the spirit, the heart of a people larger than life. Let us see what motivates such a heart and mind by looking to those most revered by these humble and serious minded. Those who are devoted to none more so than their austere ancestors, lest we forget the Giants, and Trolls, the Spirits of the deeps and of the mountain passes, let us look into their very ghosts and know their joy.