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... Let delve into this book in order to

gain wisdom and fun.

We must not forget these stories, or

call them lies.

Snorri Sturluson, "language poetry"




Two brothers and hiding Face

Autumn sea with a roar shook the granite rocks. Wind

He would pick up the spray and carried inland, over the gorge

fjords, over the stone passes, past the snow caps

vertices. Even eagles nest on inaccessible cliffs, with

hardly could see far into the sea small fishing

boat.

The storm broke a long-mast, sail and tore dragged somewhere

in low clouds. Two sailors at first tried rowing but

heavy waves snatched from the hands of the oars, and ran out of power

quickly - in fact the oldest of the rowers barely passed ten winters, and

younger and even less - eight. It was Agnar and Geyrrёd,

Hraudunga sons, one of the most famous leaders

Nordic. The storm carried off their boat from the native shore

away. Brothers barely had time to bail cold water

lashed across the board.

- Hold on, Geyrrёd! - I shouted the elder brother younger. -

We're the Vikings! Smoky pockets and warm bed - it's not for

Men!
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