Chapter 2: Strangers in a Strange Land

As dawn's first light filtered through the waving fronds, Leif surveyed their new surroundings. Towering trees of emerald and umber stretched as far as the eye could see, their gnarled branches clawing at a sky laden with pewter clouds. Though nature's palette entered, an undercurrent of menace pervaded the verdant groves.

The storm appeared to have passed, yet unease lingered in every survivor's breast. Makeshift bandages bound many wounds taken from tempests and wrecks, including several of Leif's own gashes from harrowing battles with rogue waves.

Once satisfied all injuries had been seen, Leif dispatched scouting parties north and south along the fog-shrouded shore. "Return by midday with news of fresh water, prey, or any signs of nearby dwellings. Stay wary; we know not what awaits within this wood's shaded realm."

With tasks thus assigned, Leif set about assisting the healing efforts. All hoped the discovery of aid or passage home lay close, yet an air of uncertainty hovered as oppressively as the brooding firmament above. For now, they were adrift in a foreign domain beyond even fables or foretelling. Only time would tell what mysteries—or misfortunes—this strange new coast held in its verdant yet voracious embrace. As midday drew near, one scouting party returned in haste. Tales of encounters with roaming people spread among the survivors like wildfire.

Several woodsmen dressed in hides and carrying spears had crossed paths with Leif's men by a babbling brook. Warily, the groups appraised one another, yet no violence arose. Through gestures and mangled verses, Levi's men conveyed their plight and sought aid.

The strangers reciprocated in kind, indicating dwellings lay a league hence beside a silvery lake. With encouragement, Leif's party followed the forest folk back to their settlement just as shadows lengthened among the boles.

Upon an emerald dell nestled 'neath towering sentinels, a thriving village of wood and thatch burst into view. Strange yet soothing sounds of industry floated on the dying breeze—melodies and tongues like none heard in the Northlands. As Leif and his crew took their first steps into this alien domain, wonders and enigmas seemed destined to unfold beneath those ancient boughs. What mysteries or marvels would dawn reveal within Fortuna's verdant embrace? As dusk's cloak descended, Leif led his band into the forest village. Simple wooden lodgings rose amongst flower-dappled glades, their walls woven with clever arts unknown in northern climes.

Torchlight flickered within dwelling doorways, accompanied by melodic tunes and unfamiliar speech. Dark-robed folk appeared to appraise the visitors, meeting anxious eyes with calm regard. None drew weapons, yet curiosity burned richly on all sides.

A lone figure emerged, chanting in soprano tones while gesturing for the newcomers to follow. Through winding ways twixt shadow and flame, their guide led Leif's crew to the village heart. There, elders awaited upon moss-cushioned stones, serene despite late night's surprise.

As languages remained a barrier, intentions were conveyed through open palms and gracious mien. Through the goodness of these covert people lit only by fairy lights dancing on dark boughs, Leif's band received shelter, succor, and surcease from the trials of their journey thus far. Though mysteries lingered in leaf-filtrated moonbeams, hospitality's light offered first rays of hope in this odd Eden's embrace. As the moon climbed to her zenith, one robed figure motioned Leif closer. His voice was gentle, yet resilience shone in his gaze, a calming yet commanding presence. The abbot, it seemed, spoke now in the forest folk's tongue, translated by a young seminarian.

"Welcome, travelers from afar. I am Friar Tomas, a servant of peace in this land. We are the Brothers of Benevolence, upholding vows of nonviolence. Through tending gardens, scriptoriums, and infirmaries, we spread mercy's light. Our mission is reconciliation, not reprisal; forgiveness over feud."

Leif conveyed his crew's ordeals, and the friar inclined his head. "The storms reflect tumult in men's hearts, as do the apparitions haunting your journey. But here, may you find solace. Know that in this abbey, all folk are brothers, as are all gods—different names for nature's author. For now, take ease and let cares dissipate like mist at sunup. On the morrow, we shall converse more and see what aid our hands can offer."

With parting blessings, Friar Tomas withdrew to prayer, leaving Leif marveling at this strange haven's embrace. Though mysteries endured, here was refuge unlike any in these wanderers' ken. And in their healers' hands, perhaps clues to rebuilding what was rent asunder at sea... As evening deepened, Leif conversed beside the campfire. The monks' doctrine differed greatly from the teachings of Aesir and Vanir; honor in battle was replaced with forgiveness of enemies. Change stirred unease in his breast, yet their ethos' appeal grew.

Before dawn's light, the horns' long blasts rang out. Villagers stirred in alarm while monks maintained calm vigilance. Through forest paths, armed clansfolk marched, painted skins bared to the night air. Their eyes held ill-favored curiosity and flickers of wrath, focused on the newcomers offered refuge in this glade.

A burly chieftain demanded the abbey yield what was harbored by the ancient right of domain. But the abbot stood resolute, citing the higher laws of peaceable kingdoms. Tension mounted as woodsmen gripped hafts, awaiting one wrong move. Leif sensed darkening skies unless this standoff was wisely ended. With the fate of all in balance, solutions must be found lest shadows prevail where light had dwelled... The forest rang with challenges and threats as tempers sparked. Speartips leveled at the brows while arrack spewed from curled lips, ready inferno ignited.

Then Friar Tomas raised his hand. "Brothers, please! We are all made in the image of God, and violence will avail none of us here. Why come with wild mien when words will do?"

The chieftain sneered. "These scum trespass on my lands, and I'll see them gone! Stand aside, priest, lest you share their fate."

"Nay, for all find shelter under this roof," replied the abbot calmly. "Put aside your wrath and let calm counsel have its chance. Will you not sit and break bread with us so that friendship's sun might warm where shadows stray?"

Long moments paused on a knife's edge. Then the clan chieftain harrumphed, motioning his clansmen to stand down. "For you, I'll try this path, holy man. But watch your guests; their lives are in your hands."

With that, the danger has passed for now. Through their healers' patience, blood had stayed where it so easily could have watered the earth. Leif watched and wondered at this strange power as dawn's light lifted the shroud of night. With confrontation thus averted through calm means, the forest seemed to breathe more easily. Though suspicion lingered on some brows, darkness had yielded to dawn's first light.

Leif's thoughts churned no less boisterously than the late-night waves that brought them here. These foreign teachings exhorted mercy, and his people cried for vengeance, yet none bled where easily it could have flowed.

The abbot addressed all gathered: "Night's shadows have fled, but mysteries linger on restless wings overhead. Let any with aching frames or taxed spirits seek repose within our walls. And on the morrow, when the sun stands high, we shall convene once more to share each other's hopes and see what friendship and understanding may yet forge between shores so distant."

With parting blessings, Friar Tomas withdrew, brothers at his side, leaving strangers to ruminate alone or seek the shelter he had offered. For Leif, rest would not come swiftly or certain on a bed in this strange land. With slumber, his thoughts turned. Ever seeking clues to unraveling mysteries, this place continued unveiling layer by layer, like petals unbudding on a bough at dawn's first gleam. Only daylight would tell what new marvels—or vexations—awaited discovery on tomorrow's unwritten page.