Please join the canton of Chemin Noir for our first ever virtual event, on October 17, 2020. We’re going to Hel in a handbasket!
Featuring: A&S, Bardic, Archery, Hobby Horse races, and more!
Hosting Platforms: Zoom, Facebook
Facebook Group at https://www.facebook.com/groups/highwaytohel/
A little theme music…
Lady Daireann (Debi Thorson) Lord Laiodheach the Bear (Bobby Bates)
The Main Zoom will be open all day at: https://us02web.zoom.us/j/89197273825 Meeting ID: 891 9727 3825
10am- Opening Ceremonies- Pray attend so that you may know all the fun to be had this day! (Main Zoom)
11am- A&S uploads and 1st round of Bardic voting begins. The Sleipnir Shuffle and Archery Shoot begin. (Main Zoom)
12pm – Swords & Sammiches – Fighter Roundtable, bring a lunch! (Main Zoom)
1pm – Mímisbrunnr Mayhem – come join an original board game steeped in Norse lore (Main Zoom)
2pm – Final Round of Bardic begins, , Join the Zoom meeting at https://us02web.zoom.us/j/88373481871?pwd=aUl2a1FORTZjV0NwOTVuRlZZdXQ0Zz09 Meeting ID: 883 7348 1871 Passcode: Hwy2Hel
3pm – Populace voting for A&S & Bardic ends
5pm – Court (Main Zoom)
Bardic Format: Minimum of 3 pieces. One story, one poem, and one song. This competition will be decided by judges with bonus points for popular vote winner, submissions that follow the Norse theme, and documentation.
The first entry will be a video submitted via this entry form. Video entries will be eligible for the popular vote bonus! Entry form (with video) is due no later than 8:00 pm Friday 10/16/20. Video can be any of the formats (poem, story or song). They do not have to follow the Norse theme, but submissions that do will receive bonus points.
Subsequent rounds will be live via Zoom (link will be posted on the event day).
Documentation is not required, but there will also be bonus points given if the piece is documented. Documentation can be recorded in your video or stated on Zoom, or via email to email@example.com.
Vote for your favorite here! https://forms.gle/AVhweqPYXG7AzYRj6
A&S Competition Format: Static art presentation. Popular vote wins.
Please send a minimum of one picture of your A&S project to highwaytohel.event@gmail .com. Be sure to include your SCA name, project title, and project description.
Bonus points will be awarded for both documentation and submissions that follow the event theme!
Kumihimo Favors – Lady Elena Zekel Miklosne
Nålbinding – Lady Voislava Pevtsova
Nålbinding is an ancient precursor to knitting. It was used by many cultures around the world, including Norse cultures, to create durable, warm items like hats, mittens, socks, etc. All of these hats were created using either Oslo stitch or York stitch. I used a single bone needle, or nal, and wool yarn to make each one. I prefer to start nålbinding from the top of the hat and work in the round, increasing until the desired circumference, and then length, is reached. A single hat takes around 4 hours to make, depending on the size and stitch used.
A link on the history of nålbinding:
Viking age nålbinding documentation including descriptions of extant finds made with the two stitches I used to create my hats:
Vote here for your favorite: https://forms.gle/3tyW1ncVt74hYp2P6
Viking Bragging Strings – Her Excellency, Sheika Zubeydah Jamilla al-Badawiyyah
These are Scandanavian in general origin, although I have taken liberties with some modern materials and style choices. They are known as Viking bragging strands, treasure necklaces, etc. In many cases, the lampwork beads used were made by my own hand in this, the year of quarantine. Some cast metal elements were purchased from other artisans.
Vote for your favorite here: : https://forms.gle/3tyW1ncVt74hYp2P6
How to participate in the Sleipnir Shuffle!
- Create your best approximation of Sleipnir, Odin’s valiant, eight-legged steed, as a hobby horse, using whatever you find around your abode.
- Mark a distance of 10 feet for the course.
- Find someone to time and film you completing the Sleipnir Shuffle.
- “Race” from one end of the course (Asgard) to the other (Hel) representing Odin’s ride, bow, race from Hel to Asgard (with Odin), bow, race from Asgard to Hel (with Hermod), bow, and make the final race from Hel to Asgard (with Hermod). This is basically your old P.E. shuttle run, except with a hobby horse.
- Upload your video to the Facebook Group or email it to firstname.lastname@example.org
- Their Excellencies Northkeep will decide which entry was the most swift and stylish.
Grab your bow and some cans, we’re gonna have an archery shoot!
The shoot will consist of 6 cans (or similar items) set on a surface 2-3 feet high. Set the cans at least 6 inches apart. You will shoot 6 blunted (combat, etc.) arrows/bolts from 20 feet away, video your shoot and then post to the Event Group or email it to email@example.com.
If you are missing some equipment, join the Zoom meeting and we will work with you to construct stuff you can use for this activity out of things around your house. DIY bow and arrows will shoot from 10 feet away.
Riddles from the Baron! Send as many answers as you can to firstname.lastname@example.org.
A stern destroyer struck out my life,
Deprived me of power; he put me to soak,
Dipped me in water, dried me again,
And set me in the sun, where I straightway lost
The hairs that I had. Then the hard edge
Of the keen knife cut me and cleansed me of soil;
Then fingers folded me. The fleet quill of the bird
With speedy drops spread tracks often
Over the brown surface, swallowed the tree-dye,
A deal of the stream, stepped again on me,
Traveled a black track. With protecting boards
Then a crafty one covered me, enclosed me with hide,
Made me gorgeous with gold. Hence I am glad and rejoice
At the smith’s fair work with its wondrous adornments.
Now may these rich trappings, and the red dye’s tracings,
And all works of wisdom spread wide the fame
Of the Sovereign of nations! Read me not as a penance!
If the children of men will cherish and use me,
They shall be safer and sounder and surer of victory,
More heroic of heart and happier in spirit,
More unfailing in wisdom. More friends shall they have,
Dear and trusty, and true and good,
And faithful always, whose honors and riches
Shall increase with their love, and who cover their friends
With kindness and favors and clasp them fast
With loving arms. I ask how men call me
Who aid them in need. My name is far famed.
I am helpful to men, and am holy myself.
I stood on the strand to the sea-cliffs near,
Hard by the billows. To the home of my birth
Fast was I fixed. Few indeed are there
Of men who have ever at any time
Beheld my home in the hard waste-land.
In the brown embrace of the billows and waves
I was locked each dawn. Little I dreamed
That early or late I ever should
With men at the mead-feast mouthless speak forth
Words of wisdom. It is a wondrous thing,
And strange to the sight when one sees it first
That the edge of a knife and the active hand
And wit of the earl who wields the blade
Should bring it about that I bear unto thee
A secret message, meant for thee only,
Boldly announce it, so that no other man
May speak our secrets or spread them abroad.
A moth ate a word. To me that seemed
A curious happening when I heard of that wonder,
That a worm should swallow the word of a man,
A thief in the dark eat a thoughtful discourse
And the strong base it stood on. He stole, but he was not
A whit the wiser when the word had been swallowed.
In a corner I heard a curious weak thing
Swelling and sounding and stirring its cover.
On that boneless body a beautiful woman
Laid hold with her hands; the high-swelled thing
She covered with a cloth, the clever lord’s daughter.
My name is spelled AGOB with the order reversed.
I am marvelously fashioned and made for fighting.
When I am bent and my bosom sends forth
Its poisoned stings, I straightway prepare
My deadly darts to deal afar.
As soon as my master, who made me for torment,
Loosens my limbs, my length is increased
Till I vomit the venom with violent motions,
The swift-killing poison I swallowed before.
Not any man shall make his escape,
Not one that I spoke of shall speed from the fight,
If there falls on him first what flies from my belly.
He pays with his strength for the poisonous drink,
For the fatal cup which forfeits his life.
Except when fettered fast, I am useless.
Unbound I shall fail. Now find out my name.
My throat is like snow, and my sides and my head
Are a swarthy brown; I am swift in flight.
Battle-weapons I bear; on my back stand hairs,
And also on my cheeks. O’er my eyes on high
Two ears tower; with my toes I step
On the green grass. Grief comes upon me
If the slaughter-grim hunter shall see me in hiding,
Shall find me alone where I fashion my dwelling,
Bold with my brood. I abide in this place
With my strong young children till a stranger shall come
And bring dread to my door. Death then is certain.
Hence, trembling I carry my terrified children
Far from their home and flee unto safety.
If he crowds me close as he comes behind,
I bare my breast. In my burrow I dare not
Meet my furious foe (it were foolish to do so),
But, wildly rushing, I work a road
Through the high hill with my hands and feet.
I fail not in defending my family’s lives;
If I lead the little ones below to safety,
Through a secret hole inside the hill,
My beloved brood, no longer need I
Fear the offense of the fierce-battling dogs.
Whenever the hostile one hunts on my trail,
Follows me close, he will fail not of conflict,
Of a warm encounter, when he comes on my war-path,
If I reach, in my rage, through the roof of my hill
And deal my deadly darts of battle
On the foe I have feared and fled from long.
I was once an armed warrior. Now the worthy youth
Gorgeously gears me with gold and silver,
Curiously twisted. At times men kiss me.
Sometimes I sound and summon to battle
The stalwart company. A steed now carries me
Across the border. The courser of the sea
Now bears me o’er the billows, bright in my trappings.
Now a comely maiden covered with jewels
Fills my bosom with beer. On the board now I lie
Lidless and lonely and lacking my trappings.
Now fair in my fretwork at the feast I hang
In my place on the wall while warriors drink.
Now brightened for battle, on the back of a steed
A war-chief shall bear me. Then the wind I shall breathe,
Shall swell with sound from someone’s bosom.
At times with my voice I invite the heroes,
The warriors to wine; or I watch for my master,
And sound an alarm and save his goods,
Put the robber to flight. Now find out my name.
With my mouth I am master of many a language;
Cunningly I carol; I discourse full oft
In melodious lays; loud do I call,
Ever mindful of melody, undiminished in voice.
An old evening-scop, to earls I bring
Solace in cities; when, skillful in music,
My voice I raise, restful at home
They sit in silence. Say what is my name,
That call so clearly and cleverly imitate
The song of the scop, and sing unto men
Words full welcome with my wonderful voice
My robe is noiseless when I roam the earth,
Or stay in my home, or stir up the water.
At times I am lifted o’er the lodgings of men
By the aid of my trappings and the air above.
The strength of the clouds then carries me far,
Bears me on its bosom. My beautiful ornament,
My raiment rustles and raises a song,
Sings without tiring. I touch not the earth
But wander a stranger over stream and wood
A lonely warrior, I am wounded with iron,
Scarred with sword-points, sated with battle-play,
Weary of weapons. I have witnessed much fighting,
Much stubborn strife. From the strokes of war
I have no hope for help or release
Ere I pass from the world with the proud warrior band.
With brands and billies they beat upon me;
The hard edges hack me; the handwork of smiths
In crowds I encounter; with courage I endure
Ever bitterer battles. No balm may I find,
And no doctor to heal me in the whole field of battle,
To bind me with ointments and bring me to health,
But my grievous gashes grow ever sorer
Through death-dealing strokes by day and night.
What do you think it is?
I was abandoned by my mother and father.
I wasn’t yet breathing.
A kind woman covered me with clothes,
Kept me and looked after me,
Cuddled me as close as if I had been her own child.
Under that covering I grew and grew.
I was unkind to my adopted brothers and sisters.
This lovely woman fed me
Until I was big enough to set out on my own.
She had fewer of her own dear sons and daughters because she did so.
I am all on my own,
Wounded by iron weapons and scarred by swords.
I often see battle. I am tired of fighting.
I do not expect to be allowed to retire from warfare
Before I am completely done for.
At the wall of the city, I am knocked about
And bitten again and again.
Hard edged things made by the blacksmith’s hammer attack me.
Each time I wait for something worse.
I have never been able to find a doctor who could make me better
Or give me medicine made from herbs.
Instead the sword gashes all over me grow bigger day and night.
This is about a creature and its home. Can you guess what it is?
My home is not quiet but I am not loud.
The lord has meant us to journey together.
I am faster than he and sometimes stronger,
But he keeps on going for longer.
Sometimes I rest but he runs on.
For as long as I am alive I live in him.
If we part from one another
It is I who will die.
When I am alive I do not speak.
Anyone who wants to takes me captive and cuts off my head.
They bite my bare body
I do no harm to anyone unless they cut me first.
Then I soon make them cry.
Four stick standies
And a wig wag
A wonderful warrior exists on earth.
Two dumb creatures make him grow bright between them.
Enemies use him against one another.
His strength is fierce but a woman can tame him.
He will meekly serve both men and women
If they know the trick of looking after him
And feeding him properly.
He makes people happy.
He makes their lives better.
But if they let him grow proud This ungrateful friend soon turns against them.