Greenland

“We have plenty of time,” I say casually to my best friend Tulok as we make our way onto the beach. 

We were fifteen when the Invaders first came upon us on those “long kayaks” we called them. Tulok and I were tasked to maintain a lookout this year and we were beyond excited. It was the first time we’d been chosen for this. This beach was the edge of the world and no one wanted the job. We took it because we’d be that much farther from the village that we hated all our lives. We were supposed to stay here for almost a year with seasonal visits from the elders with supplies. We’ve not seen anyone from the village in a month.

The bay freezes just enough that you can step onto the ice and observe the poor sea life suspended in time. Time deferred down in that bitter, blue cold. Our fathers taught us to pick at the ice and get to it. But it wasn’t the same. We wanted the hunt, the exhilaration of the hunt. We wanted more than just an easy target. We always fought against picking at frozen fish on the ice. We wanted more commotion. More confusion or flurries. We were bored that day. Clear, calm mornings like this used to be reassuring. What could go wrong?

“Look!” Tulok screams suddenly. His eyes were gawking at the horizon, pointer finger dead straight. I first saw them standing on their long ships, barely making a difference from our perspective here on the beach. Large kayaks, enough to fill 20 men. Tulok runs down the beach and towards the rocks being slammed by the salteater to get a better look. He climbs onto the rocks and puts his hand on his forehead for shade. He needed a better look. I was still confused at that moment because I could barely tell what was happening but I ran feverishly to catch up. And as we stood there, gazing at the wonder of this new vision, we both felt something was terribly wrong. 

These men, white, bearded and tattooed in their own way, held axes on both hands and looked upon our land with determination and confidence as they lowered themselves onto even smaller boats and rowed their way to our beach. 

“Gods? An animal, you think?” I asked.

“A trick of the light?” he turns to me, eyes wide, filled with dread and uncertainty. 

Tulok screams “Devils! They’re here to take us to the underground!” Their movements were calculated, beards beaded and braided. Dark, piercing eyes, I could see them even this far out. Suddenly, snow falls on all of us. These men stopped in the water, waist deep still and laughed or grunted, I couldn’t tell, at the snow falling on them. They continued on laughing and grunting beneath those red beards and cold eyes.

Here on this beach, I wonder if this is fate or a test from the gods. While we wait for an answer, we brace ourselves and look to each other for comfort. We begin a tense, backwards walk away from the beach as these devils wade towards us. After a moment, one of the invaders, their Leader with the enormous blonde beard and braids, shining blue eyes, points to us and yells something in their devil language. “They’ve spotted us!” I hear Tulok scream. The terror in his voice was nothing I’ve ever heard before. This sent chills throughout my body as I looked on in helpless terror. Within seconds, our backwards retreat turns into a frantic run straight to the village. We ran so hard and with such ferocity that I collapsed before we could make it up the hill. We were not able to warn the others because Tulok had different plans. As he picked me up, he told me “We have to lead them away from the village. They will kill the others.” I could tell he was just as afraid, but if we wanted to save the others, we would need to be caught by these men and convince them we were alone.

---

Their Leader was tall and terrifying to look at. His long, yellow hair and deep, shiny blue eyes dug deep into my mind. He and his I’m comrades wore thick, brown leather armor which held those massive axes, ready for war. As the man stood on the rocks on our shore, he scanned the terrain and withdrew an ancient amulet from his leather belt. He grunts at another one and points towards us. It sounded as if they were ready for a fight. Some of his comrades were so rabid and vile that they slipped on the wet moss on the rocks. Angry about this, they pushed and even punched each other with a dreadful glee that I had never experienced before. These muscular and overwhelming beasts would eventually push and plow their way towards the village so we kept pointing the other way, hoping they’d listen. To our surprise and disdain, they did.

They demanded our clothes, our weapons, and our food. They did this by pointing to our thick jackets and their thin clothes. They hacked away at the seals on the ice but would often just take bites out of the animals and kick them away from them. They built crude tents and a large cabin right on the beach during those first nights after arriving. Singing songs and spells to summon whatever gods they worshipped. They would look tired and scared after so much work on the beach. Some of them died within weeks, others after just days. They left a trail of yellow-haired bodies up the trail we kept diverting them to. By the first month they had already tied Tulok and I with ropes and grunt and howl at us in their language, always pointing north. Luckily, the village was east. As soon as the water thawed and the air warmed, however, they became violent and asked for more of everything we had.

They harvested every plant and flower during that following spring. Tulok and I still gave no indication that our village was just over the hills and the mountains beyond. Their giant axes of industry chopped and hacked their way up the first hills and down into the valley leading into the mountains. They spoke in that devil language we did not understand but we could fathom what they wanted other than more food, more shelter, or more clothes. They’d point to a tree and knock it down. Point to a field of flowers and yank them out of the ground, killing the color of our beautiful valley within a season. This same valley was where Tulok and I would play as children with our families. I cried to myself every morning looking out into the barren valley, desolate and blighted.

These brutes adorned their clothes and blonde hair with our brightest flowers. They chopped their way deeper into the valley and sang in that unbearable language that made the old men in their caravan cry. The Leader made himself a crown of green and yellow flowers. It took him several days to get the right combination of color and flower but he would smile as he got the combination just right. His blonde, yellow beard along with those bright, blue eyes rendered that crown into a menacing mockery of everything I loved about this valley. He placed it upon his head with all of the solemnity of a king. On a particularly bright and sunny day I looked upon his face and saw the hat they would think of as a god. It was beautiful and it made me recoil all at once. His men even had a ceremony to mark the occasion with prayers, wood burnings, and chants deep into the night. I had never known so much destruction on our lands. They kept pushing us into the mountains up from the valley. We gave them what they wanted.

The Invaders became tired and weak by the end of summer. They’d pushed us further up the mountain but looked weaker the more we pressed on. Many of them fell ill and would die on the trails we lead them on. “They pressed on too greedily and too heavily,” whispered Tulok as we became aware of their diminishing numbers. One by one, they would infect each other with the cough. They were coughing blood and crying out in agony right there on the hills. They could not carry on for more than a few hours a day. 

After what felt like an eternal summer, there were only three of them left. Docile and harmless, Tulok and I whispered louder to each other and devised a plan to rid these men for good. Their Leader, still wearing the crown of flowers, would slap and kick the remaining two men who managed to stay alive. His crown, now just dry stems and black petals, kept pressing on every day even as he coughed up more blood. His skin was hanging off his bones! The crown was only now falling into his eyes but he would stubbornly keep putting it back up. 

By winter, we had successfully led them away from the others and towards the cliffs. Tulok and I had a glimmer of hope now. We were defiant now and would often ignore the men, complying only when they raised their axes at us. On a particularly bright and cold morning I woke to find the Leader with the flowery crown pointing his dull axe at me and grunted “The caves. Where are the caves?” I didn’t understand him in his tired, sweaty devil voice but I pointed to the path we were already on. Toward the cliffs I pointed with Tulok nodding knowingly at me and the Leader. They turn to each other and whisper something among them. After a moment, they turn around and begin their slow crawl to the cliffs. In all their greed, the invader never notices the one in front of them falling off the steep edge of a cliff once arriving there. They must have been so sick and disoriented, I wonder if they knew what was happening at the time. Could they know this was their end? Did they believe they would kill us all? I couldn’t know. All three of them fall to their deaths. “What did they say?” asks Tulok. “I don’t know,” I shrugged. I heard a scream that died with each passing moment, looking down at the men who took everything from us.

In this bittersweet moment, I look to my beat friend at and I cry. Deep, loud, uncontrollably passionate tears fall on my face. Joy and fear all at once. Tulok walked up to me and gave me the biggest hug I've ever felt. We must have cried there for an hour because we noticed the sun had fallen down. As we made our way down the mountain, I told Tulok we should keep this to ourselves. He stops in his tracks and looks me in the eye. “Of course. Let’s go home.”