Lögberg-Heimskringla - 16.12.1994, Page 14

14 • Lögberg-Heimskringla • Föstudagur 16. desember 1994

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Wcleomc Thorri
An Unpublished Manuscript by Peter Eyvindson
Based on the Bakkabræður Story from lcelandic Folk Tales
rom the day Bjarni and Gudrun
built a house next door, the
Bakkabraedurs began to won-
der about their neighbours.
They wondered when Bjarni began
cutting the hay in the meadow.
“Why is he doing that?” Gisli won-
dered.
“Doesn’t he know it will just grow
back again?” asked Helgi.
“Very strange indeed,” said Erikur.
And a few days later when Gudrun
marched out of her house armed with a
pitch fork the Bakkabraedurs, again,
openly discussed this strange activity.
“What is she looking for?” asked Erikur
as he watched Gudrun carefully turn over
the hay. “Has she lost something pre-
cious?”
“Maybe she has lost Bjarni!” exclaimed
Helgi.
Of course, Gudrun hadn’t lost Bjarni. .
She was just making certain that the hay
would dry.
Because the Bakkabraedurs had only
one brain between the three of them,
they didn’t know the first thing about
haying.
Later, they saw Bjarni collect the straw
and pile it up in a huge stack beside the
barn.
“What!” exclaimed Gisli. “Is he going
to try to build a house out of straw?”
“Doesn’t he know that a house needs
doors and windows?” asked Helgi.
“Windows?” asked Erikur. “A house
doesn’t need windows. Windows only let
in the wind.”
“If we had a window,” said Helgi,
“then we could keep our eye on these
strange new neighbours of ours. Don’t
you agree, Gisli?”
“I agree,” said Gisli.
With their new window in place, the
Bakkabraedurs watched every move
Gudrun and Bjarni made.
When Bjarni and Gudrun marched
down the road and back again on a
Sunday morning, they watched.
ij-
"
mm&
Gudrun, dressed in black, looked grim
while Bjarni tagging along behind looked
red-faced and angry as he tugged away
at the starched collar on his white shirt.
“I wonder where they go on Sundays
that makes them so grim and angry?”
Gisli asked.
But it wasn’t where they went that
made Gudrun grim. If you listened very
carefully, you could hear her complain to
Bjarni: “Look at those three! Always, they
have their noses glued to that window. A
person can’t even hang out a wash with-
out having the three of them staring.”
It was true. On wash mornings the
Bakkabraedurs watched as Gudrun made
Bjarni carry bucket after bucket of water
inside. And later, they watched while
Gudrun pinned all of Bjarni’s wet and
soggy clothing on a line outside the

house.
"^LjujXZ' HM, {J44J/G! ” exclaimed
Gisli. “How can Bjarni stand having that
woman do such terrible things to his
clothes?”
When winter came and the nights
grew long, the Bakkabraedurs still kept
their noses glued to the window.
And even though Gudrun and Bjarni
seldom left the house anymore, the
Bakkabraedurs didn’t mind. They watched
and watched and watched.
Gudrun minded. Gudrun minded a
great deal!
It was the first morning of Thorri, the
fourth month of winter when Gudrun
asked “Why?”
“Why do they spend al! their time star-
ing at us?” she asked as she pulled open
the curtain to stare at the Bakkabraedurs.
Bjarni had pulled on his shirt after
climbing out of bed and he was just
pulling on one leg of his underwear when
he said something he ought not to have
said:
“Gudrun, my dear, you’re no different
than the Bakkabraedurs with your nose
glued to the window like thatl’’
Ijiya, mi, utij/z!
Gudrun was not happy! How the
sparks did fly!
Before he knew it, poor Bjarni found
himself outside his house wearing noth-
ing but a shirt and his underwear half on
and half off. Barefooted he started to hop
around in the ice-cold snow. Three times
he hopped completely around the house
but Gudrun would not let him in.
Bjarni saw the three brothers staring at
him through their one small window,
and, since it was so very cold, he hopped
over to their house.
“Let me in!” Bjarni yelled. “Let me in!”
Normal folk might wonder about
opening the door to a man dressed in
just his shirt and underwear. But not the
Bakkabraedurs.
“Welcome!” yelled Gisli as he threw
open the door.
“It is so good to see you!” exclaimed
Erikur.
“I’ve never seen you looking better,”
said Helgi. “Even when you are dressed!”
Bjarni had to think quickly.
“It is a custom,” he stammered. “In...
in my part of the country, a.. the menfolk
wear nothing more than a shirt and half
their underwear. And they, er... Well,
they rise early on the first day of the
fourth month of winter and they dance
around their house barefooted.”
“Ah, I see!” exclaimed Gisli. “To wel-
come Thorri!”
‘Of course,” said Bjarni.
'IjtiýG,
MM' exclaimed
Erikur. “A strange custom, indeed. But if
it is a custom, then it must be done.