Lögberg-Heimskringla - 17.11.1989, Qupperneq 6

6 • Lögbeig - Heimskringla • Föstudagur 17. nóvember 1989
lcelandic Content
on Page 8, a translated synopsis
A young Icelandic woman, Bryndís
Hrund Högnadóttir,wroteto thelcelandic
pjóðræknisfélag and expressed her wish
to come to Canada. Jón Ásgeirsson, the
President of the pjóðræknisfélag, for-
warded the letter to Lögberg-
Heimskringla.
Bryndís wishes to stay in Canada for
3-9 months. She is interested in the the-
atre (plans to become an actress), travel-
ling, sports, and “last but not least” in
people. If ourreaderscanassistthisyoung
woman in her quest, please write to
Lögberg-Heimskringla, 1015-806 Allegh-
eny Drive, Winnipeg, Manitoba, R3T 5L2.
On page eight we also report on the
Icelandic pjóðræknisfélag’s 50th birthday
celebration, which will take place on
December lst This celebration was re-
ported in our 34th issue, of October 13th.
Islenskt Heljarmenni
QcelandicTitan),
by Jóhann Magnús Bjamason
This story has appeared in the Ice-
landic section of DH in issues 37, 38 and
39, on page 8. Here is a short synopsis.
“I am going to tell you a little stoiy
from Nova Scotia,” begins Heljarmenni. It
is a story without “masterly description”
nor “poetic style”, yet the story is eloquent
in itself as it is about a hero like those of
Old Iceland, “truly called a giant.” He has
been dead for just a few years at the time
of this telling.
Hewascalled Hrómundurpórðarson,
a newly-arrived immigrant from Iceland,
and he brought with him his frail wife and
sbcdependentchildren. Hewasaboutfifty
when he settled on the East Coast of N ova
Scotia.
He was about sk feet tall, with not a lot
of hair; but when seen in a group of great
tall Scottish men who were taller than he,
one could tell that Hrómundur was much
stronger and more capable. He was also
favourably compared against the Irish; he
had the broadest back and the thickest
hands.Though he had a very strong neck,
this did nothing to take away its elegance.
His limbs were like rock. He was alto-
gethervery dense and strong. He had sky-
blue eyes, hard, cold and alert. He had
light hair and a great blond beard.
He wasn’t an “intellectual” - tfiat is to
say, not book-learned; but he was a man of
nimble mind and possessed of educated
MESSUBOÐ
Fyrsta Lúterska
Kirkja
Pastor Ingthor I. Isfeld
10:30 a.m. The Service follo\ved by
Sunday School & Coffee hour.
First Lutheran Church
580 Victor SL, Winnipeg, MB
R3G 1R2 Ph. 772-7444
senses. Of all the saga heroes, he is most
like Egill Skallagrímsson.
Hrómundur hadn’t settled with the
other IcelandersinNovaScotia, butrather
chose an island for himself called “Sailor’s
Woe”, an appropriately dangerous place.
It was in “Spry Bay”.
The people of Spry Bay were Scottish
and Irish settlers, only one of whom was
on a similar scale as Hrómundur, a certain
Donald Gaskell. Gaskelldidn’tcallallmen
“men”, but most of them “boys” or “poor
creatures”. But Donald Gaskell often said
of Hrómundur, “He is a man, this old
Icelander - he is a man, my boys, he is a
man!”
It was one day in 1882, when
Hrómundur’s wife took ill. She worsened
and worsened, just as the weather wors-
ened. There were white crests on the sea,
and it seemed to boil. Hrómundur knew
that nothing could save his wife except
the attention of a doctor, and fast. He had
to fetch Dr. Patrik from the mainland,
otherwise his wife would die that night.
He put out to sea three times, but it was so
rough that he had to tum back.
He thought of his hungry children,
unable to fare without him if he did man-
age to row to town - y et he knew that they
would be motherless if he did not fetch the
doctor by evening. So, he ventured out
onto the treacherous sea and rowed with
the power of two men. Miraculously, he
made it to Spry Bay.
The Irish and Scots, all of them brave
seamen, were looking out to sea that day.
They were amazed, and watched help-
lessly at his tenuous progress towards the
beach. They helped him ashore, and he
immediately called for Dr. Patrik. They
told him that Patrik was at home up the
hill. Why do you want him? Who’s sick?
Hrómundur pushed past them, and
sped to the young doctor’s office. “Hello,
Mister Doctor! My wife is sick - come
with me to the island, and ITl pay anything
you ask.”
“But the weather is terrible, and if the
sound is quite intraversable,” said Dr.
Patrik; “I can’tgo withyouuntiltheweather
calms down.”
Hrómundur pleaded with the doctor,
but Patrik said that it was open death to go
out to sea in this weather. Old Hrómundur
said nothing more. But his face was tor-
mented, and a tear fell down his cheek; but
not an ordinary tear: a viking’s tear: hard,
cold, freezing as death. He seemed to
debate with himself. He took a single step
towards the doctor and stopped. He tumed
suddenly and left. We went back to his
boat.
Donald Gaskell and all the other men
advised Hrómimdur not to go out again.
They told him to be careful. But Hrómun-
dur wouldn’t listen, even when Gaskell
told him that they could go out later in
O’Hara’s big boat, with Dr. Patrik - only a
big steamship could sail that water.
Hrómundur was silent, and he looked
out to sea. It seemed that he saw his wife
and his children, his dying wife and his
helpless children: he gazed like a man
who was about to jump over a hellishly
deep canyon, seeing how long it is, and
thinking twice about it.
All of a sudden he tumed and went
back to Dr. Patrik’s place. The doctor was
standing outside. Hrómundur picked him
up like a little child, and took him to the
boat! Dr. Patrik was a full grown man.
They went out to sea.
When the other men noticed them, it
was already too late to catch them. Even
with twelve men in a boat, it would be
meaningless to chase them and try to get
Dr. Patrik back.
On the boat, Dr. Patrik was of course
quite frantic. He had no hope of help from
land, even if he did throw himself from the
boat. But soon he realized that a great deal
of sea-water was filling the boat, and if he
and Hrómundur were to live, he would
have to start bailing! He took to it.
Patrik worked very hard and saw
Hrómundur “rowing between life and
death”; he was rowing so hard it seemed
the oars might break. Hrómundur said
not a word, but strained and sweated,
dripping. They finally approached the
island, and in this breakfrom the weather,
Patrik saw that blood had spmng from
every one of the other man’s nails.
The doctor found eveiyone to be still
alive, and he ministered to Hrómundur’s
wife. Hrómundur now had seven
children!
Dr. Patrik could not help but forgive
Hrómundur, of course, with all his heart.
They became great friends.
Hrómundur acquired more land, and
his children grew to be very healthy. And
one of his daughters married Dr. Patrik’s
eldest son.
Donald Gaskell would often tell the
story, afterwards, of a great foreigner,
who had picked up afiill-grown man in his
arms and stolen him from the best of
theScots and Irish in broad daylight.
“And that was a man, who did that, my
boys,” said Donald, “that was a man!’
In for the Chop
No mistaking that sheepish look:
Iceland’s ovine populatión is rapidly slip-
ping in thepopularity stakes. Despite hefty
cutbacks in sheep holdings, meat stocks
are still pilingup as consumers feel fleeced
by vertiginous prices, and the govem-
ment was forced this summer to stage a
bargain sale to reduce the mountain lamb
mountain.
Also gnawing at the sheep’s conscience
has been its role in erosion - this once-
prized tenant of the wild has been singled
out as a scap egoat by campaigners for new
drives in afforestation and reseeding of
nibbled-down land.
Courtesy oflceland Review
Last Chance to Purchase!
Komin Heim M Favouríte tcelandic Songs
Heather Sigurdson Ireland
Mezzo Soprano
Eríc Hominick, Piano
Slde 1 -Two songs to poetry of Guttoimur J. Guttormsson (grandfather of Heather Ireland).
Sandy Bar The poet describes a journey to the abandoned graveyard of the lcelandic settlers at Sandy
Bar. The pioneers suffered and died, but their dreams live on.
Góða Nótt Good Night
Sólskrikjan The beautiful song of the bird was of love and longing. If only we knew all that she knows.
Mótið Come my love and meet me tonight. I will keep you warm and whisper to you.
Ég elska pig I love you
Mammaætlarað sofna Sitherebesideme, sister. Wewillbestillandquietformotherwantsto sleep.
Kata Her kisses burned the hearts of many men until she herself was burned. Now she kisses no man!
Svanurinn minn syngur My swan sings all summer long. Alone she works, finding no joy.
Draumalandið 0 let me take you to my dreamland.
Side 2
Vorið er komið Spring is here.
Um sumardag On a summer day, it is fun to walk among the green mountains and valleys.
Sjáið hvar sólin nú hnigur See where the sun now sets. The evening brings us peace.
Kvöld i skógi One moonlit summer night, the elfin children busily gathered their gold in the forest.
Kvöldbæn Now I close my eyes. 0’ God, look after me tonight.
Vöggukvæði Sleep dear baby, Sigrun. God will give you a good night.
Grimudans The Masquerade. Come Pierro and dance with me. I will whisper of my love for you. %
Ljóðaljóð There is a song for singing. It sings of love and life and joy.
To order send cheque or money order to:
Heather Ireland,
940 Younette Drive,
West Vancouver, B.C. V7T 1S9
Cassette Tapes @ $10. each Name:
Plus $2. Postage and Handling
Total $_
Address:_______
Province/State:.
Postal/Zip Code: