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Norway was outside tending to his garden when he noticed that the sky was filling with darkening clouds. He frowned and looked towards the harbor and the village that accompanied it at the tip of the fjord in the valley below. The fishermen had evidently noticed the worrisome sky as well and were coming back in. The wind kicked up in a great gust, whipping the leaves on the trees, making them show their silver undersides. The sheets that Norway had hung to dry after being laundered snapped and bounced on their line, threatening to fly away. Norway was forced to run and take them down for fear of them dirtying again.
A storm was coming.
With the basket full of laundry in one arm and the other hoisting a basket of vegetables in the other, Norway hurriedly dashed back to the house. As he leaned against the great wooden door to shut it, Iceland looked up from what he was drawing. Norway looked just as windswept as the trees outside and after he put his loads down he set to fixing his hair.
“Pretty windy, huh?” Iceland observed, leaning back in his chair.
“Mm,” Norway nodded and busied himself with folding the sheets, though his eyes kept flicking to the windows to look outside. The clouds were continuing to build and were growing blacker by the minute.
By the time dinner was finished a steady rain was falling. It streaked down the glass window panes, warping the image outside far more than the glass already did. As the evening continued it picked up into a downpour that pounded against the roof.
Norway glanced up towards the ceiling, listening, but wasn’t too concerned. He picked Iceland up and supported him with his hip as he took him to his room for bed. As he pulled the nightshirt over Iceland’s head, he was surprised to see the little boy looked worried.
“Nor, is the rain going to drown us?” He asked as Norway tied up the ribbon that held his shirt’s collar shut.
Norway blinked at him before chuckling and shaking his head. “No, it’s not going to drown us. Even if it did flood, we’re up on the mountain. The waters won’t reach us up here.”
Iceland scrutinized Norway and pursed his lips, not quite believing his older brother. “You promise?”
“Promise. Now into bed.” Norway helped Iceland crawl under the sheets and drew them up around his face. “Sleep well. Have nothing but good dreams.” He blew the candle out as he left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Norway was reading when the storm decided to break overhead. He could hear the wind whipping at the trees and the house outside, the rain lashing against the windows. He was momentarily blinded as lightning cut across the sky. He blinked and saw spots before his eyes before rolling them to the ceiling.
“One… two… thre-“ A loud crack of thunder drowned his voice out.
“Noooor!” And there it was. Iceland began to wail from his bedroom, crying like he was being murdered. “Stóri bróðir!“
With a sigh, Norway snapped his book shut and stood, fetching his candle. He let himself into Iceland‘s room and set the candle down on the little table by his bedside. “Shhh, there there.” He hoisted himself up onto Iceland’s bed and reached over to gather the trembling little boy into his arms. “You’re okay. Shhhh…” He began to rub comforting circles on his back.
“Norway, I’m scared…” Iceland croaked, his voice thick with tears, as he buried his face into Norway’s side. Another bolt of lightning streaked across the sky and was closely followed by another loud clap of thunder. Iceland jumped and whimpered slightly. “I don’t like storms…”
“Why should you be scared of storms?” Norway asked, pulling Iceland back some so he could look into his face. “You do know what storms are, don’t you?” Iceland glanced away, sniffled, and shrugged his shoulders some. Norway turned Iceland to look out the window as the clouds glowed with the lightning that danced within. “That’s Thor,” he pointed out to the stormy night beyond the window. “The thunder is the sound of him pounding on his anvil and the lightning is the sparks.”
“Is Thor mad at us…?” Iceland quietly asked.
“Thor has no reason to be angry with us. He is keeping us safe. He draws the lightning and thunder to frighten away those who would hurt us.”
“He’s doing a pretty good job of it…” Iceland grumbled. “Too good of a job.”
Norway laughed at that. “Maybe… but he won’t hurt you. Thor won’t let his lightning or thunder hurt us. He’s just going to be loud for a while.”
A particularly loud crash of thunder made Iceland yelp and cower against his brother. “I’m still scared, Nor… Will you stay with me? Please?” He looked up and gave Norway the full weight of his teary, purple eyes. “Please, stóri bróðir...?“
Norway felt his heart melt at that face and those words. Iceland always did know how to pull his strings to get him to do what he wanted. “All right, all right.” He helped Iceland get back under the blankets and tucked him back in. The candle was blown out, submerging the two into darkness that was only split by the flash of lightning. “But try to go to sleep.”
“Will you sing me a song to help me sleep?” Iceland’s voice was muffled; he must have snuggled further under the covers.
“Which song?”
“One I haven’t heard yet.”
Norway wracked his brain for any lullaby that Iceland hadn’t heard before. He abandoned cradle songs and moved further up his mental song list. He opened his eyes and looked down at Iceland, who was looking up at him expectantly. He knew just the song to sing now.
“Alle de duggvaate blomster har sennt
Solen det sisste Godnat.
Sanktehansormen sin lykte har tænnt,”
Norway’s voice wafted dreamily through the air, light and airy. Despite being quiet, his voice was strong and carried well over the booms of thunder. He ran his fingers through Iceland’s hair and hoped the motion would help the little country fall asleep.
“Sitter og lyser i krat,
Sommerfugl tat sine duggsokker paa,
Lagt sig til hvile i klokken, den blaa,
Drømmer saa deilig om solen,
Drømmer om duft av fiolen.”
Iceland could feel his eyes beginning to grow heavy. The repetitive feeling of Norway’s hand moving over and through his hair accompanied by his soft song was beginning to lull him off to sleep. The thunder seemed more distant now and with the renewed quiet, Norway’s voice could be heard even better.
“Sommerfugl tat sine duggsokker paa,
Lagt sig til hvile i klokken, den blaa,
Drømmer saa deilig om solen,
Drømmer, drømmer, om duft av fiolen…”
Norway looked down into Iceland’s face, which had gone slack with sleep. His eyes were closed and his chest slowly rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep. He smiled and leaned down to press a gentle kiss against Iceland’s forehead. “God natt, Island…” Carefully, Norway began to get up only to find that Iceland had a hold of the bottom of his shirt.
“Stay with me, bróðir…” Iceland slurred sleepily, having opened his eyes ever so slightly to gaze blearily over at his brother.
“All right…” Norway settled himself back down on the bed and wrapped an arm around the child. He began to stroke Iceland’s hair again and began to hum tunelessly. He could feel his own eyes growing heavy with sleep and himself begin to nod off as well. Within the hour the both of them were sound asleep.
Outside the storm had cleared the fjord and was moving out to sea. The sounds of the creatures of the night began to stir and fill the air again with their chitters and chatters. Overheard the clouds began to break apart, letting the moon shine through and the stars sparkle above.