[~*~] The Humans [~*~]

For many a-year men have expanded their realms, most often taking but the most useful things with them. Family, items to survive in the wild, cattle, sheep and those who could afford the most noble of them creatures, brought the horse. However did they not know how to prevent their most needed servants from returning to where they belong, the wild. Some tried limited fencing whilst others hobbled, this tying the horses front legs together. Some horses roamed with their herd leader although many spent day and night trying to return to the wild. Some did, others didn't.

The survival of the fittest.

Yet the men did not give up all hope of eternally losing their best, but grabbed every chance Earth offered to search for those gone. Inhabitants of Iceland were in no way different. Nameless was among those, a desired stud for any land owner. Whenever one was seen during sheep herding, most were distracted. Such was his aura. Many hunts did he claim victor over his ridden kindred 'tho weary he grew. The fight was long and two lay lifeless till one swooped at his chest.. They said he cursed his slayer in his fall, a deadly poem of evile curses. Two seasons later he died in a fight against a "berserk", his chest slashed a deep gash.
Fate?

Yes, the horse is so much more than a mere price to man. Equaling gold good steeds were. Wild mayhap more than tame for men wished to catch teh spirit they lacked so much. Ah! The curse.. the endless curses.

When the viking came, a few monks walked the land that seemed so pure.. so fresh and full of spirit. Despite beliefs, the two cultured had a few things in common and merged somewhat. 'Tho religions kept distance further than needed. Vikigs rode, sacrificed, and made their horses fight whilst monks' religion kept them at peace with the horse. Monk life less giving in winter time.. viking life mayhap less plesant in it's ending.

~Å~ The Facts ~Å~

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