The day before Thorfinn’s great voyage was due to begin, Percy arrived with a message tied to his leg. The message was from Oswald, the wise man of the village. It said: Come and see me immediately, you young fool!
Oswald was Thorfinn’s best friend in the world. He had a beard that stretched right down to his belly, and he was about eighty years old. He also had an incredibly loud, whiny voice, and he liked nothing more than to shout insults at people. He knew he could get away with it, because he was old.
Oswald had taught Thorfinn everything he knew. He’d taught him to read and write. He’d taught him mathematics and astronomy and navigation. He’d taught him how to speak languages. But what Thorfinn liked most about Oswald was his fantastic storytelling.
Night after night, groups of Vikings would huddle round the fire in the great hall where they had their meetings and feasts, and listen to the old wise man Oswald telling ancient Viking legends.
As soon as Thorfinn received Oswald’s message, he set off to see him, whistling happily to himself as he walked through the forest and up the hill.
Oswald lived in a hut in the woods above a waterfall. Thorfinn climbed up and found him tending his garden outside. The old man greeted the boy with a whinny.
“I hear you are coming on our voyage, young Thorfinn,” he said. “Well, I can safely say that you have lost your head!”
“But what do you mean, old friend?” replied Thorfinn.
Oswald took him inside and sat him down beside the hearth. He’d made pancakes especially for Thorfinn’s visit.
“Thorfinn, if anyone has the knowledge and the bravery to be a good Viking, it is you,” said the old man. “Unfortunately, the ruthless bit is missing.”
“I can’t help being polite,” said Thorfinn. “It’s just the way I am.”
Oswald got out a jar of Thorfinn’s favourite jam, made from arctic berries. Together they ate the pancakes. To top it all off they shared pinecone tea, which Thorfinn drank with his pinkie raised in the air.
“Yummy,” said Thorfinn, dabbing the edges of his mouth politely with a cloth.
“Voyages are very important to Vikings,” said Oswald, leaning forward. As he did so, his long beard dipped into the pot of jam. “When a Viking goes on his first voyage, he comes of age. He performs heroic feats, brave deeds. That’s how legends come about. It is every Viking’s aim to have legends told about them after they are gone.”
It was difficult talking to a man whose beard was dangling in a pot of jam. Thorfinn didn’t want to embarrass his friend. He tried several times to lift the beard and move the jam away without the old man noticing, but Oswald kept moving it back.
“Oi! I’m not finished with that,” Oswald said.
“Do you think they’ll tell stories about me one day?” Thorfinn asked.
Oswald laughed. It sounded like a horse having a sneezing fit, and left Thorfinn covered in partly chewed pancake and jam.
“Perhaps,” the old man said, composing himself. “Though maybe not the kind of legend you’re thinking of. You see, my dear Thorfinn, you are unlike any Viking who has ever lived. The other Vikings do not understand you. They even laugh at you. But, if you remain true to yourself no matter what, then one day – just maybe – they will understand. And then, who knows, perhaps they will be telling stories about your adventures.”
Oswald stood up. “Now where’s that other pancake of mine gone?”
As he turned round Thorfinn spotted it. It was stuck to Oswald’s bottom.
